Mary Daheim - Scots on the Rocks

Gertrude didn’t say anything. Sweetums yawned.

Judith lobbed the ball to Joe. He swung and missed. “Oh, come on,” she said with a smile, “you can do better. How do you expect to coach Joe-Joe and Mac when they start Little League?”

“That was too low,” Joe complained, picking up the ball and tossing it to his wife. “It was so far out of the strike zone that it practically grazed my ankles.”

Judith tried to put more oomph on the second throw. Joe connected. The ball sailed off to the left, narrowly missing the statue of Saint Francis of Assisi.

Gertrude leaned forward, watching the ball land under a rhododendron bush. “Way to go!” she cried as Judith held her breath. “Way to go,” she repeated. “Good swing…Biscuit Pants!”

Joe stared at Gertrude. “What did you just call me?”

“Biscuit Pants,” Gertrude repeated. “Lou Gehrig’s nickname.” She looked at Judith. “What are you staring at? Lunkhead’s foul ball?” The old lady tottered precariously as she turned to go back to the toolshed.

“Mother!” Judith shouted. “Wait!”

Joe raised his hands, making a Churchillian victory sign. “I win!”

Judith barely glanced at him as she hurried to steady Gertrude. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “You ruined everything!”

Gertrude took a couple of deep breaths and glared at her daughter. “I ruined you, that’s for sure!”

“That’s what I…how do you mean?”

With Judith’s help, Gertrude hobbled to her armchair. “By not raising you right,” Gertrude said in disgust. “For setting a bad example.”

Puzzled, Judith eased her mother into the chair. “I don’t understand.”

Gertrude let out a big sigh. “Didn’t I teach you never to cheat?”

“Ah…yes.” Judith grimaced.

Sadly, Gertrude shook her head. “But you cheated today. You pulled a shenanigan. No matter what I’ve done, I won’t have it.”

Still not sure what her mother was talking about, Judith sat down on the arm of the small sofa. “You didn’t do anything. I mean, you called Joe by the wrong name and then referred to him as—”

Gertrude waved a hand. “Hush! I…” She started to cry.

“Mother!” Judith got up and put an arm around the old lady’s shoulders. “You what? You haven’t been yourself lately. What is it?”

Tears slipped down Gertrude’s wrinkled cheeks. She took a handkerchief from her housecoat’s sleeve. “You better hear the worst.”

Judith hugged her mother gently. “Tell me.”

Clearing her throat, Gertrude made a swipe with the handkerchief. “Two weeks ago at SOTS bridge club.”

Judith recalled helping Gertrude get into Angie Mazzoni’s car for the card game with Our Lady, Star of the Sea—or SOTS, as the parishioners were more familiarly known. Afterwards, Gertrude had seemed glum even though she’d won the quarters.

“Go on,” Judith urged when her mother fell silent.

“You know what a blowhard Mary Clare O’Malley can be,” Gertrude finally said. “Bossy, too. On the last hand, she bid a small slam. I was pretty sure I could set her—if I knew if she was finessing on the second trick. She was bragging, and I hate showing off. Anyway…” Gertrude made a wretched face. “I peeked at her hand. She was finessing, so I played my high card and she went set, doubled and redoubled.”

“That’s it?” Judith said in obvious relief.

Gertrude scowled. “Isn’t that enough? I’ve never cheated in my life! Granted, she was waving her cards around along with her big mouth, but even so, I had to lean a little to see them all. I don’t know why I did it. I’ve been sick inside ever since. I’m probably going to hell.”

“Oh, Mother,” Judith said with a laugh and another hug, “don’t be so hard on yourself. Mary Clare is a pill.”

“That’s no excuse for what I did,” Gertrude insisted. “I feel like I should give back the quarters. They came to three dollars.”

Judith patted her mother and stood up. “You probably sensed she was finessing. I’ll bet you’d have played that high card regardless.”

“Don’t mention ‘bet’ to me,” Gertrude snapped. “And then you do the same thing—cheat. I couldn’t believe it, even if it meant you’d lose to Knucklehead. I couldn’t go along. What was that all about anyway?”

Judith sighed. “It was a silly wager about the names you call Joe.”

Gertrude stuffed the handkerchief back into her sleeve. “So? He should be used to it.”

“He is,” Judith said. “It’s not a big deal. The winner gets to pick where we go on vacation.”

Gertrude looked worried. “You’re going away? Where?”

“I don’t know yet,” Judith said. “Not too far. Joe wants to fish.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“We haven’t decided,” Judith replied. “A week or so.”

Gertrude grew thoughtful. “The Rankerses are coming back from California in a couple of days, right?”

Judith nodded. “I’m sure Carl and Arlene will take wonderful care of you. They always do.”

“You bet,” said Gertrude, and bit her lip. “Forget I said that. No more bets. Arlene and Carl are fun. They treat me right.”

“I know,” Judith said, grateful as ever for her next-door neighbors. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked as Sweetums seemed to appear from nowhere and jumped up onto the back of Gertrude’s chair.

“Well…maybe.” She smiled faintly at Judith. “I guess it’s true. Confession’s good for the soul.”

Judith had no intention of admitting to Joe that she’d attempted to sway the wagering odds in her favor. But her husband had seldom been fooled by liars and cheats during his career as a police detective.

“Nice try,” he remarked as Judith entered the garage.

“It was…sort of a…joke,” Judith said lamely. “Besides, Mother’s been down in the dumps lately. I thought it might cheer her up.”

Joe chuckled. “You’re a wonderful liar, but I’m not buying it. I’m going to call Bill after I finish this corner of the garage. We need to firm up our plans ASAP.”

“So where are we going?” Judith asked, wondering why they’d kept a rusty old lawn mower that must have belonged to Grandpa Grover.

“It’s a secret,” Joe replied. “We want to surprise you and Renie.”

“Can I have a hint?”

Joe wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag. “No.”

“Oh, come on!” Judith begged. “Renie and I have to know something about our destination or we can’t pack the right clothes.”

Joe thought for a moment. “You get three questions.”

“Is there a beach?”

Joe nodded.

“Good. Ocean view?”

He nodded again.

“Quaint shops and restaurants close by?”

A third nod confirmed Judith’s hopes. “Great!” she exclaimed, and kissed her husband’s cheek. “How soon do we leave?”

Joe frowned slightly. “I’m not sure. A week, maybe two.” He shook a finger at her. “No more questions.”

“That’s fine,” Judith agreed. “I’m going inside to make sure all the guests have left and to check on Phyliss. I’ll be right back.”

But the first thing Judith did was to call Renie. It was well after ten o’clock, and her antimorning cousin should be up and fairly alert.

“It’s not a sinus infection,” Renie shouted into the phone. “It’s my damned pollen allergies. Stop fussing, Mom. I’m naked.”

“I hope you’re inside the house,” Judith said calmly.

“Of course…Coz? Oh,” Renie said with relief, “I thought you were Mom calling me for the third time already this morning to make sure I don’t have a terminal sinus infection. She woke me up the first time at nine. I wanted to sleep in longer than usual because I went to the opera with Madge Navarre last night. It was Verdi’s Don Carlo —the uncut version. It was great, but I was really tired by the final curtain call.”