Death of a Suitor #18

Chapter Six

A mere fifteen minutes later, the book club members started showing up. Tippy came in first, which she liked to do since she was club president. She was dressed elegantly in black and white and had her hair pulled up in a chignon. Tippy had recently become elected to local office and Myrtle was relieved to see that the town council had started behaving itself with Tippy in the meetings. She tended to have a calming effect on groups.

Tippy had a couple of tote bags and a smile for Myrtle.

"I brought along the punch bowl and all the paper and plastic utensils. I think it would be best if we didn't leave you anything to clean up, under the circumstances."

Myrtle figured "the circumstances" involved Myrtle's considerable age and the ineptitude of her housecleaner. She nodded. "I think that sounds perfect."

Tippy busied herself by setting up the punch and punchbowl as Blanche arrived behind her. Blanche was also dressed in fancy clothes, but hers looked a bit flashier. She grinned at Tippy and Myrtle. "I think we need to spike the punch, ladies, don't you?"

Tippy gave her a patient but restraining look. "I have the feeling that wouldn't be a good idea. That's happened before, as you might remember, and the outcome was fairly impactful."

The impact involved most of the ladies having to call for rides home from book club and Miles falling asleep in his chair.

Myrtle said, "I don't have anything appropriate for spiking punch, anyway. There's only sherry in my pantry."

Blanche made a face at the idea of spiking the fruit punch (which appeared to include ginger ale, frozen lemonade, and frozen orange juice) with sherry. "No thanks. I guess we'll try to keep on the straight and narrow this time. Although it's tough for some of us."

Myrtle winced as Erma Sherman barreled in. "Hi everyone!" she trilled out.

Blanche hastily muttered something about needing to get something out of her car and hurried out the door. Myrtle gave Erma a small wave before retreating to the kitchen. That left the ever-gracious Tippy to make conversation with Erma as she got the punch together. Myrtle glared suspiciously at the food that Erma brought with her. Somehow, no matter what kind of hors d'oeuvres Erma brought to an event, it always seemed to be accompanied by stale bread or crackers.

Minutes later, Myrtle's living room was full and buzzing with voices. Miles came in and sidled up to Myrtle. "This is quite a big turnout," he murmured to her.

"Indeed it is," said Myrtle. "I expect it's because everyone is eager to discuss Ethan Frome. As they should be."

Miles gave her a dubious look.

"I'm going to go ahead and call the meeting to order," she said.

Miles glanced at his watch. "Isn't it a little early to start? Everyone's still snacking and getting punch."

Myrtle waved her hand. "They'll be fine. There's likely to be a lot of good conversations about the book so I want to make sure we have as much time as possible."

Looking wary, Miles took his seat.

Myrtle clapped her hands and used her schoolteacher voice to call the room to order. That authoritative note still managed to deliver results and everyone quickly found a seat.

"I'm pleased to see so many of you here today," said Myrtle. She held up her copy of the book, which was tattered from time and lots of use in the classroom. "Ethan Frome is such an excellent novel and I'm looking forward to hearing what you all thought of it."

Erma looked stricken. "What? Are you mispronouncing the title, Myrtle?"

"I can assure you that I'm not," said Myrtle coolly.