Рита Браун: Pawing Through The Past

Harry laughed. "Crozet isn't exactly picturesque, but I think the painting the kids did on the railroad underpass is pretty nice." She leaned next to Market, shoulder to shoulder. "I guess we aren't much to look at but the land is beautiful. That's what counts. Buildings fall down and so do we. Can't be but so bad." She changed the subject abruptly, a habit of hers. "How do you get a name like Bitsy?"

"Probably the same way you get a name like Harry. You do something when you're little and it sticks. You picked up more injured animals than anyone I know. You were and remain dappled with an interesting assortment of animal sheddings."

"Which reminds me-give me a plastic bag so I can take that chicken home and boil it for them."

He fetched a beige plastic bag from the store. They both approached the two cats and Tucker, squatting before them, making them crazy.

"All right, girls, hand it over."

"Death to anyone who dares touch this chicken!" Pewter growled.

"Don't be melodramatic." The dog salivated.

Pewter lashed out, catching one of the corgi's long ears. Tucker yelped.

"Pewter, hateful thing." Harry knelt down. "Market, want your cat back?"

"Hell, no. She ate me out of my profit." He knelt down beside Harry. "Pewter, you're a bad cat."

"Put one over on you."

"Don't brag, Pewter, let's see if we can make a bargain." Mrs. Murphy swept her ears forward. "Harry, if you don't throw the chicken away, we'll come out."

"I'm going to cook the chicken."

"She understood!" Tucker was ecstatic.

The cats, equally amazed, released the chicken from their fangs and claws. Harry scooped it into the plastic bag.

"Come on."

They slunk out from under the bush just in case Market was going to take a swat at them.

Harry put the chicken on the seat, which meant three animals gladly scrambled into the truck. "Market, ask that Chris out. She'll say yes or she'll say no. And you've heard both before."

"I don't know."

"Hey, before I leave I forgot to ask you. Did you get a letter saying 'You'll never grow old'?"

"Yeah. In Crozet colors."

"I checked the envelopes. Each of our classmates living here got the same envelope, but that doesn't guarantee the same content. Thought I'd ask."

"No name." He stepped back from the driver's window. "I thought it was a joke because it's our twentieth reunion. Thirty-seven or thirty-eight, most of us, you know. I figured someone was panicking about turning forty."

"I didn't think of that. Susan thought it was a compliment. We look good. I guess." Harry smiled her beguiling smile.

"I'll take it." Market smacked the door of the truck like a horse's hindquarter and Harry drove off.

5

"Call to question." BoomBoom, sitting behind a long table, raised her voice.

"What are you talking about?" Harry, failing at hiding her irritation, snapped.

"Robert's Rules of Order. Otherwise we'll descend into chaos."

"BoomBoom, you're full of shit," Harry blurted out. "It's just us. Susan, Market, and Dennis."

Dennis Rablan, voted Best All-Round, volunteered to be in charge of the physical plant. That meant cleaning the gymnasium atCrozetHigh School , setting up the sound system for taped music, and working with the decorating committee. He'd gotten only one volunteer, Mike Zalaznik, to help him. Dennis was lazy as sin, so Mike would wind up doing most of the work.

Dennis had learned to ignore the whisperings behind his back about how he had squandered away the large nest egg his father had left him. He owned a photography studio in downtown Crozet. Weddings, anniversaries, high-school graduation, red-haired Dennis was always on hand toting two or three cameras. He was the one classmate who saw the other local classmates during the turning points of their lives.

The small group sat in a history classroom at Crozet High, the windows wide open to catch the cool breeze since that wondrous Canadian high still hung around.

"Harry, don't lose your temper," Susan admonished her best friend. "BoomBoom"-she turned to the chair sitting opposite them-"you don't need to be so formal about this meeting. I don't like it any more than Harry does. Let's discuss ideas without the hoopla."

"What do you think, Dennis?" BoomBoom smiled at Dennis, her big eyes imploring him.

"Well, I never learned Robert's Rules of Order, I doubt I could contribute much, but then I might not be able to contribute much anyway." He brushed a bright forelock back.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" Market folded his arms across his chest.

"You'll vote with Harry. You always do."

"Because she has good sense." Market laughed. "Look, you want to reshoot our senior superlative pictures and have them blown up life-size to place around the auditorium. I'm not opposed to the idea but how are you going to get the superlatives from out of town to duplicate the photograph?"

"Easy." BoomBoom loved showing up Harry, although she told all who would listen that she bore Harry no ill will. After all, she had cavorted with Harry's husband after they separated but were not yet divorced, so, morally Harry was in the right. BoomBoom thought that by recognizing this she'd be absolved of her misdeeds. But small-town memories were long.

"Well?" Susan leaned forward in her seat.

"We shoot the original locations, ask the away people to duplicate their pose in a studio, and we superimpose it on the location photograph. Dennis knows how to do it. Right, Dennis?"

"Right."

"For how much?" Harry asked.

"Seven hundred dollars." BoomBoom smiled broadly, as though she'd scored a coup.

"Mostly that's for gas, chemicals, paper. There's not much in there for me," Dennis quickly added.

"You'd better not take it out of my publicity budget," Harry warned.

"You don't have a publicity budget." BoomBoom dismissed the idea.

"Oh, yes, I do. I worked it out over the weekend and I've made copies for everyone. If you want a bang-up reunion then you've got to cast wide your net." She handed out budget copies as Mrs. Murphy walked into the room, sitting down under the blackboard. "And don't forget, the day after Labor Day weekend I have to send a mailing with details to each class member. That's in the budget, too."

The school, built in 1920 out of fine red brick with a pretty white four-columned main entrance, exuded a coziness that Mrs. Murphy liked. Pewter and Tucker peeped around the doorjamb.

"Are they finished yet?" Pewter had found nothing in the hallway to entice her.

"No," Murphy replied. The other animals came in and sat next to her, watching the humans as humans watch animals in a zoo.

"Harry, we can go over your budget later. We need to nail down this superlative idea first." BoomBoom barely glanced at the paper. BoomBoom herself had been voted Best Looking.

"I think it's a good idea. And I assume you will blow up the original senior superlative photograph and put it next to the new one." Susan nodded.