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Dinner commenced with the joining of hands and Ted offering a prayer of thanksgiving to God for his family’s safe arrival. Heads nodded all around in agreement as he closed with a loud “Amen.”
Margaret scanned around to make sure everyone was getting what he or she needed. She jumped up several times to get drink refills and replenish the basket of dinner rolls. She was the consummate hostess. And relished every minute of it.
“So, Jon,” Parker began, making conversation, “how’s business?”
“Beautifully,” Paula answered for him, then realized it just as quickly. “Oh, sorry, dear. You tell them all about it.”
Smiling, Jon took his wife’s cue and began to fill the family in on his most recent enterprise, photographing vintage barns. Jonathan’s photography business, Ray of Hope, had taken off. Jon, who presented more like an accountant upon first meeting, truly had an artistic streak—but he used his outside the home, whereas Paula employed hers in creating a welcoming and celebratory atmosphere within their two-story colonial style residence.
The younger Johnstons lived on a hill overlooking Lake Michigan in the small town of Fish Creek, Wisconsin, just over three and a half hours from Ted and Margaret’s. Winter-time tended to be a bit slower for Jon’s business, so the couple tended to visit more frequently between December and February.
“Wow, I love vintage barns,” exclaimed Daisy, who had started her own cottage-style décor business.
Since Mary had moved out, her old upstairs room had become, in part, Daisy’s studio. A partition separated her wares from the rest of the room, which was still guest-ready. It was a priority to Margaret to have places for family to stay. “No motels for my kin,” she would always say. A second guestroom, where Mary and Parker would be sleeping, graced the downstairs floor.
“Well, if you’d like, I can certainly provide you with some artistically framed copies of my favorite barn photos—for your shop,” offered Jon.
“Oh, that would be lovely!” Daisy virtually clapped at the thought of a new addition to her stock.
“How are the yams?” Margaret wanted to know. Everyone had been conversing so eagerly, they’d forgotten the customary yam compliments. Quickly, they began to chime in, making up for lost time. “Oh, they’re absolutely delicious…best I’ve ever had…just perfect…so moist and savory.” Margaret smiled, pleased to have succeeded in her culinary ventures once again.
“What do you say, Mary?” Ted inquired, winking at his daughter mischievously. “Should we clear away these dishes and beat some people at pinochle?”
“Sounds like a great idea to me,” she smiled. It was a tradition for Mary and her father to play partners at a few games of pinochle during the holidays.
“I’ll help Mom with the dishes,” volunteered Paula, who wasn’t much for games but liked to keep busy all the same.
“Parker, you wanna partner up for this battle?” Jon proposed.
“Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?” At that, Mary and her father shared a knowing glance and a chuckle. They had a reputation of being impressively hard to beat.
“What about me?” Daisy fake pouted. Everyone knew she didn’t play pinochle but still liked to be in on the action.
“You can be in charge of recording bets,” suggested Parker. They all laughed.
A half-hour later, Mary and Ted had been victorious, and Parker and Jon were playing the part of the sore losers. “It’s because I didn’t get to cut the cards that one hand,” emphasized Jon.
“Yeah, we probably would’ve won if it weren’t for that,” agreed his partner.
“Ha!” scoffed Mary. “You guys were over eighty points behind us. Nice try.”
As the guys were taking their lumps and Ted shuffling for a second game, Margaret and Paula were distributing hot cocoas. Daisy had turned on some background Christmas music and was knitting a pair of slipper socks for her shop—they’d been selling like hotcakes. She had a good eye for the mixing of colors that gave them just the right blend of charm and pizzazz.
Laughter echoed as the next pinochle contest ensued, with Ted lamenting the “rotten deal” he’d gotten.
“Perhaps our luck is changing,” quipped Parker hopefully.
“Well, the weather certainly is,” announced the always observant Paula. Margaret looked up from her cooking magazine along with the rest of the group. There was a real blizzard forming outside.
“Margaret, turn on the news, will you?” Ted prompted. “Maybe we can get some idea how bad this thing’s gonna get.” When he said “bad,” it was with enthusiasm. Ted Johnston was an inclement weather fan, and this was just the kind of event he’d been hoping for.
“This could be the biggest blizzard in ten years,” the weatherman declared with regard. “So far it is stranding thousands of travelers at airports and on roadways. Madison could have up to ten inches by tomorrow afternoon if this intensity keeps up.”
Daisy visibly shuddered as a chill, whether actual or suggested, came over her. Ted arose from the table purposefully, setting down his hand for the time being. “I think it may be time to strike up a blaze in the ol’ fireplace.”
1 comment:
Did our photography business perhaps inspire you to add in that tidbit about Jon? Just curious :) If so, cool. If not, oh well...it's a great story! Can't wait to read the rest of the parts you've written!
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