night! Now there was a noisy nuisance! We had to call the police at least four times.â
âThat was my family.â Judith realized that her eyes had narrowed and her jaw had set. âI believe youâre referring tothe wedding reception for Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince in 1951.â
Enid glared at Judith. âDid they get married four times? What about your uncle? The one who put the cherry bomb in the barbecue on Independence Day? Every year, I cringe when July rolls around. His antics are completely unnerving.â
Judith had stopped wondering about sitting down. Now she only wanted to figure out how she could leave without harsh words. âThat was Uncle Cliff,â she said stiffly, recalling the puckishness of Renieâs father. âHeâs been dead for twenty years.â
Enid was obviously startled but quickly regained her aplomb. âI should think so!â
Judith sighed. âLook, I know you donât feel up to coming to our meeting tonight. Weâre going to discuss outdoor Christmas decorations. I thought it would be nice for all of us in the cul-de-sac to put up some lights or something this year. Would you like to join in?â
A contemptuous look crossed Enidâs face. âChristmas? What about the Steins? Theyâre Jewish. Mrs. Swanson is Japanese. Iâve never known the Ericsons to attend any church. And the Porters are Negroes! What does Christmas mean to any of those people?â
Having forgotten that Enid Goodrich was impossible, Judith surrendered. âOkay, forget it. I wonât impose any longer. Good-bye, Mrs. Goodrich.â Judith gave George an apologetic little smile. âSorry I bothered you.â
Georgeâs long face had fallen so far that it looked as if his chin could touch the top button on his worn cardigan. âYes, well, itâs no bother. Except thatâ¦â
âGeorge!â Enidâs sharp voice cut through the slightly stale air. âGet my pain medicine! Itâs after four! And put ice in the water this time. It was lukewarm at noon.â
âYes, dear.â George wore his air of resignation like an albatross. Back in the kitchen, he headed straight for the cupboard. Judith glimpsed a vast array of pharmaceutical bottles. âEnid suffers so from her arthritis,â George explained as he peered at the various labels. âHeadaches, too. And her stomach gives her fits. Itâs so hard to fix food that wonât upset her.â
âThatâs too bad,â Judith said, her usual sympathy at a low ebb. âThanks, George. Iâll see you later.â She reached for the doorknob.
âUhâ¦â George was running the tap water. âLast year youâ¦ahâ¦brought over some really wonderful little cookies. And candy. I wasâ¦umâ¦wondering ifâ¦well, Enid canât eat sweets as a rule, butâ¦erâ¦â
Taking in the pitiful old face, Judith smiled. âOf course. I usually make spritz cookies and fudge about two weeks before Christmas. My mother does her divinity and penuche about that time, too. Weâll be sure to see that you get some, okay?â
George returned the smile, his tired gray eyes lighting up behind the thick glasses. âThatâs very kind of you, Judith. And your mother, too. Thank you. At yearâs end, I still help with the meat packing companyâs books. They get so busy, you see. Itâs nice to have a little something to nibble on when youâre working into the wee hours. Itâs not just an indulgenceâitâs good for me, when my ulcers act up.â George glanced away, as if embarrassed by his frailty as well as his industriousness. He probably was unsettled, Judith thought, no doubt because Enid resented any attention being expended on anyone but her. âAndâ¦uhâ¦â he went on, nervously looking at Judith once more, âIâm sorry we couldnât be moreâ¦helpful.â
So