Calamity Town

“Wright-Haight Nuptials Today”

Hermy planned the wedding like a general in his field tent surrounded by maps of the terrain and figures representing the accurate strength of the enemy’s forces.

While Nora and Pat were in New York shopping for Nora’s trousseau, Hermione held technical discussions with old Mr. Thomas, sexton of the First Methodist Church; horticultural conferences with Andy Birobatyan, the one-eyed Armenian florist in High Village; histrionic conversations with the Reverend Dr. Doolittle in re rehearsals and choirboy arrangements; talks with Mrs. Jones the caterer, with Mr. Graycee of the travel agency, and with John F. at the bank on intrafamiliar banking business.

But these were Quartermaster’s chores. The General Staff conversations were with the ladies of Wrightsville.

“It’s just like a movie, dear!” Hermy gushed over the telephone. ”It was nothing more than a lovers’ quarrel to begin with¯Oh, yes, darling, I know what people are saying!” said Hermy coldly. ”But my Nora doesn’t have to grab anybody. I don’t suppose you recall last year how that handsome young Social Registrite from Bar Harbor . . . Of course not! Why should we have a quiet wedding? My dear, they’ll be married in church and . . . Naturally as a bride . . . Yes, to South America for six weeks . . . Oh, John is taking Jim back into the bank . . . Oh, no, dear, an officer’s position . . . Of course, darling! Do you think I’d marry my Nora off and not have you at the wedding?”

On Saturday, August thirty-first, one week after Jim’s return to Wrightsville, Jim and Nora were married by Dr. Doolittle in the First Methodist Church. John F. gave the bride away, and Carter Bradford was Jim’s best man.

After the ceremony, there was a lawn reception on the Wright grounds. Twenty Negro waiters in mess jackets served; the rum punch was prepared from the recipe John F. had brought back with him from Bermuda in 1928. Emmeline DuPre, full-blown in an organdy creation and crowned with a real rosebud tiara, skittered from group to group remarking how “well” Hermione Wright had carried off a “delicate” situation, and didn’t Jim look interesting with those purple welts under his eyes? Do you suppose he’s been drinking these three years? How romantic! Clarice Martin said rather loudly that some people were born troublemakers.

During the lawn reception Jim and Nora escaped by the service door. Ed Hotchkiss drove the bride and groom over to Slocum Township in time to catch the express. Jim and Nora were to stay overnight in New York and sail on Tuesday for Rio.

Mr. Queen, who was prowling, spied the fleeing couple as they hurried into Ed’s cab. Wet diamonds in her eyes, Nora clung to her husband’s hand. Jim looked solemn and proud; he handed his wife into the cab gingerly, as if she might bruise under less careful manipulation.

Mr. Queen also saw Frank Lloyd. Lloyd, returning from his “hunting trip” the day before the wedding, had sent a note to Hermy “regretting” that he couldn’t attend the ceremony or reception as he had to go upstate that very evening to attend a newspaper publishers’ convention in the Capital. Gladys Hemmingworth, his Society reporter, would cover the wedding for the Record. ”Please extend to Nora my very best wishes for her happiness. Yours, F. Lloyd.”

But F. Lloyd, who should have been two hundred miles away, was skulking behind a weeping willow near the grass court behind the Wright house. Mr. Queen experienced trepidation. What had Patty once said? “Frank took the whole thing pretty badly.” And Frank Lloyd was a dangerous man . . . Ellery, behind a maple, actually picked up a rock as Jim and Nora ran out of the kitchen to get into the cab.

But the weeping willow wept quietly, and as soon as the taxi disappeared, F. Lloyd left his hiding place and stamped off into the woods behind the house.

Pat Wright trudged up onto Ellery’s porch the Tuesday night after the wedding and said with an artificial cheeriness: “Well, Jim and Nora are somewhere on the Atlantic.”

“Holding hands under the moon.”

Pat sighed. Ellery sat down beside her on the swing. They rocked together, shoulders touching.

“What happened to your bridge game tonight?” Ellery finally asked.

“Oh, Mother called it off. She’s exhausted¯been in bed practically since Sunday. And poor old Pop’s pottering around with his stamp albums, looking lost. I didn’t realize¯quite¯what it means to lose a daughter.”

“I noticed your sister Lola¯”

“Lola wouldn’t come. Mother drove down to Low Village to ask her. Let’s not talk about . . . Lola.”

“Then whom shall we talk about?”

Patty mumbled: “You.”

“Me?” Ellery was astonished. Then he chuckled. ”The answer is yes.”

“What?” cried Pat. ”Ellery, you’re ribbing me!”

“Not at all. Your dad has a problem. Nora’s just married. This house, under lease to me, was originally designed for her. He’s thinking¯”

“Oh, El, you’re such a darling! Pop hasn’t known what to do, the coward! So he asked me to talk to you. Jim and Nora do want to live in their . . . Well, I mean¯who’d have thought it would turn out this way? As soon as they get back from their honeymoon. But it’s not fair to you¯”

“All’s fair,” said Ellery. ”I’ll vacate at once.”

“Oh, no!” said Pat. ”You’ve a six-month lease, you’re writing your novel, we’ve really no right, Pop feels just awful¯”

“Nonsense,” smiled Ellery. ”That hair of yours drives me quite mad. It isn’t human. I mean it’s like raw silk with lightning bugs in it.”

Pat grew very still. And then she wiggled into the corner of the swing and pulled her skirt down over her knees.

“Yes?” said Pat in a queer voice.

Mr. Queen fumbled for a match. ”That’s all. It’s just¯extraordinary.”

“I see. My hair isn’t human, it’s just¯extraordinary,” Pat mocked him. ”Well, in that case I must dash. Cart’s waiting.”

Mr. Queen abruptly rose.

“Mustn’t offend Carter! Will Saturday be time enough? I imagine your mother will want to renovate the house, and I’ll be leaving Wrightsville, considering the housing shortage¯”

“How stupid of me,” said Pat. ”I almost forgot the most important thing.” She got off the swing and stretched lazily. ”Pop and Mother are inviting you to be our houseguest for as long as you like. Good niiiiiight!”

And she was gone, leaving Mr. Queen on the porch of Calamity House in a remarkably better humor.