Free The Four Seasons by Mary Alice Monroe Page A

hands over the bags as though to forcibly keep the contents in. “But…” She swallowed hard. “I’ve already unpacked the china.”
    â€œRose, be sensible. We cannot use Mother’s dishes.”
    Jilly glanced at Hannah and saw her face set in fury, the same as her father’s, as they listened.
    â€œWhy not?” Rose wasn’t backing down.
    Birdie stopped unpacking and rested her hands on the counter. After an exaggerated pause she said, “For one thing, there isn’t enough of any one set of china to serve this size a crowd. For another, there are not enough salad forks or matching wineglasses. It would all be an embarrassing mishmash of patterns. And it’s much too late to call for rentals.”
    â€œWho the hell cares?” Dennis snapped, obviously fed up with his wife’s interference. “If she wants to use the damn dishes, let her.”
    â€œDennis,” Birdie said in controlled fury, furtively checking Jilly’s reaction to his outburst. “Would you go out and get the rest of the bags from the car, please?”
    Dennis tossed down his newspaper with an angry flip of the wrist, then rose abruptly from the table, pushing back his chair so hard it almost toppled over. He took pains to allow a wide berth between himself and Birdie.
    Jilly sensed the tension escalating in the room. Daggers flowed in the gazes between Dennis and Birdie, and again between Rose and Birdie. Jilly sipped her coffee, narrowing her eyes. She’d never seen this side of Birdie before. She’d always been bossy growing up, but now she was more of a bully. In contrast, Rose caved in, staring absently at some point across the room.
    â€œIf Rose has planned to use Mother’s dishes,” Jilly began cautiously, “then that’s what we should do. We don’t have time to argue over the point, so let’s just pitch in and do what she wants.” She put down her cup and lifted her chin. “It is , after all, her call.”
    No one missed the steel in Jilly’s voice. Birdie drew her shoulders back and met her gaze. “ Her call?” She took a breath, then said in a controlled voice that fooled no one, “Jilly, I know you just arrived. Perhaps you don’t appreciate all I’ve done to organize this funeral. Everything was set until Rose decided entirely on her own to change everything. Imagine, a luncheon here! You don’t have any idea….”
    â€œBut of course I do!” Jilly replied with a light laugh. “This isn’t a formal sit-down dinner, darling. It’s a petite soirée . You’re making entirely too big a fuss over it. I’ve thrown lunches bigger than this on a moment’s notice. It’s all in the attitude. I think it’s fabulous that Rose is finally going to use all this stuff. Mother hardly ever entertained.”
    â€œThat’s because she was a perfectionist,” Birdie said, drawingherself up. “It mattered to her that things were properly done, or not done at all.”
    â€œOh, come on, Birdie,” Jilly countered, waving her hand. “Mother was so intimidated by Emily Post and things like matching china, menus, which side to serve on and which side to take away, that she was simply overwhelmed by it all. The truth is she was afraid nothing was ever good enough.” Her eyes flashed. “She was always so damn worried about what other people thought. That’s why she never entertained.”
    Hannah watched her mother summarily silenced by this mysterious aunt and sat back in her chair. Birdie appeared to be holding on to her position, for the sole purpose of winning in the eyes of her daughter.
    â€œCome on, Birdie,” Jilly said, rising from the table. “Rose has done all the preparation, let’s have fun putting it together.”
    â€œJilly,” Birdie said, thoroughly frustrated at having to defend the only sensible position on the