Christopher Nicole - Her Name Will Be Faith

When the Robsons had left, still anxious to talk about their new purchase — they were leaving for the Bahamas at the end of the month — Babs and Big Mike went up to change while Jo and Michael went home’s to fetch the ‘lasagna’. The older couple suspected nothing, despite the children’s conspiratorial glances — they had been sworn to secrecy.

Half an hour later, Babs squealed with delight as Marcia dashed into the house and hugged her parents. “Sweetie! Don’t you look lovely. What a beautiful dress. And Benny! Wow!” She did a double take. “Don’t you look smart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before. You guys going to a party?”

Benny was looking distinctly uncomfortable — but Marcia had insisted.

Jo, Michael, Owen Michael, Tamsin and Dale crowded the doorway behind Marcia and Benny, and Babs stared at them too. “You’re all dressed up as well. What is this?” She looked from face to face in suspicion.

Jo prodded the shy and nervous Benny in the back, prompting him to speak. “Er… well…” he coughed and looked pleadingly at his beloved, who didn’t attempt to help — but smiled encouragement. “Well, Marcia and I-have-decided-we-want-to-get-married, and we’ve brought my Mom too.” Words spilled out in a rush, and an equally shy, short, plump, middle-aged woman in an obviously new, smart, two-piece, was dragged into the room from the hallway.

Big Mike leapt up to join the whirl of excited hugs, kisses and handshakes, beaming from ear to ear, while Babs’ eyes filled and she kept repeating, “I’m so happy I could cry,” while her husband made a grab for the car keys, saying, “I’m shooting down to the store for some champagne.”

“Not necessary, Dad.” Michael produced a huge cool-box from behind him. “Here we are, all chilled and ready.”

No one noticed Jo slip upstairs to the phone, and five minutes later the excitement started all over again as Lawson and Belle walked in.

Benny was left in no doubt as to the popularity of his proposal. His natural reserve was swept away on the tide of Donnelly enthusiasm and soon, with the added help of champagne, he was chatting freely, arm round his mother, explaining her generosity and all they planned to do.

Jo was busy organizing food from the car to Babs’ oven, but she had time to join in every few minutes. She loved watching people — speculating on what made them tick. Big Mike, Babs and Michael all relieved that Marcia was at last ‘going legit’, becoming respectable; Benny’s mother, Annie as she liked to be called, swamped by the noisy and affectionate welcome, trying to keep her end up with Benny’s encouragement; Belle, who couldn’t give a damn about respectability, thrilled by her younger sister’s happiness, and Lawson…but Lawson seemed to hang on the periphery of the fun, obviously preoccupied.

Babs followed Jo into the kitchen. “If I’d only known you were all coming I’d have gotten food in and ready, but I guess we’ll have to send the boys out for some takeaway, to feed twelve of us… Your poor lasagna can’t…?” She realized that Jo was grinning, and stopped. “What have you been up to?” she sniffed. “That’s not lasagna… why, that’s one of your lovely baked hams… and what’s under there?” She pointed to a large tray concealed under a dish towel.

Jo whipped the cloth away to reveal twelve halves of grapefruit, cut and piled with brown sugar steeped in sherry. “Those just need to go under the grill for a few minutes, the vegetables on, and the sauce heated.

Babs hugged her. “Jo, you are a doll. You’ve got it all organized. Say, have I got time to go up and change? I feel awful in these old pants.”

Her daughter-in-law laughed. “Babs, you make old pants look divine — but if you want to put on your mother-of-the-bride outfit, you go ahead. Nothing’s going to spoil if you’re quick.”

Minutes later Big Mike came into the kitchen. “Where’s Babs?”

“Changing. You’ve time, if you want to,” Jo assured him.

It was not an assurance he wanted. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Jo looked at the ancient sweater and cords. “Not too much, I guess, providing you’re not embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Dammit, they’re clean…” He noticed a greasy mark over his stomach. “Well, nearly.”

“Where’s that beautiful jumper Marcia gave you for Christmas?”

“Not that purple and yellow monstrosity?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She’d love to see you wearing it. She’s been so worried that you didn’t like it,” Jo coaxed.

“She’s damn right… oh, okay.” He grumbled off towards the stairs.

The meal was a great success. The table wasn’t built for twelve people, but they made it, Owen Michael and Tamsin, in smart suit and party dress, being allowed to stay up for the important occasion. After they had all held hands while Big Mike said grace, there were innumerable toasts and gradually the noise level rose as the wine took effect and everyone’s voice grew louder in an effort to compete with the rest.

“I have an announcement to make too,” Jo said, when she could make herself heard. “You’ll never guess who’s vacationing with us at Dolphin Point next month.”

They looked at her, and Michael drank some more champagne. “My husband,” Jo said, smiling at him.

“Son of a gun,” Big Mike said. “I never thought we’d get you down there again.”

“Well…” Michael said.

“Won’t that be during the Bermuda Race?” Dale asked his brother. “Well…”

“I’m so glad you’re coming down.” Babs squeezed Michael’s hand.

“Yeah. Well…” Michael looked at his father, and then at Lawson. Big Mike understood the glance, as did Lawson. Big Mike nodded, motioning him to wait.

By 10.30 the children were virtually asleep in their chairs, and Jo took them up to bed. The others voted to clear away before taking coffee in the lounge; Benny and Dale collected glasses while the women dealt with dishes and leftovers.

“Cigar?” Big Mike asked Lawson.

“Love one.”

“Come and take your pick. They’re in my study.” Followed by Michael, he led Lawson across the hall into the small room lined with loaded bookshelves, to the comfortable armchairs arranged before his desk. “Sit down and help yourself.” He pushed a big silver box across the table, dropped into the swivel chair behind the desk, sat waiting as they all sucked vigorously for a few seconds. Then he said, “Well?”

“The ball’s in your court, Big Mike,” Lawson said. “Dolphin Point is officially on the market as of now. So… we’re going to have to make a decision.”

“Big interest?”

“Some, already.”

“Local?”

Lawson shook his head. “A million US is a bit steep for the average Bahamian.” He grinned. “They’d hardly get foreign exchange for such a purchase, and if they don’t apply, questions might be asked as to where they got the money — like do they maintain an illegal American account?”

“I thought everyone down there was as corrupt as hell,” Michael remarked.

“There’s a lot of corruption, sure. But you still can’t be too blatant about it. No, our main interest is coming from Florida. The realtors over there are looking for some alternatives to those millionaire ghettos they have up in Boca Raton and Palm Beach. Once they get in the act…”

“So what d’you want from me?” Big Mike asked. “I’m thinking about raising the money, but I need another few weeks. And I want to have another look at the property.”

“And you’re not coming down until mid-July? It’ll be gone by then. Can’t you make it sooner?”

“No way. We’re up to our ears trying to float a stock issue.”