Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

I felt certain Natasha had planned to use fancy-schmancy china and was almost sure that was the reason I chose sage-green earthenware plates and soup bowls. I added inexpensive wine and water glasses that I had bought because I loved the iridescent amber glass of the goblets. I bunched berries in three-inch vases and arranged them in clusters down the center of the table, mixing in colorful ceramic candlesticks.

Stepping back, I appraised the table. Festive and not at all stuffy. Perfect.

Mom peeked in the doorway. “It looks lovely, dear, but you need to add one more place setting.”

I did the math again in my head. “No, it’s an even dozen.”

Mom gave me that look I knew from my childhood when she had a secret.

“Mom!” She didn’t know anyone up here besides my brother, and he and his family were out of town. “Who did you invite?”

The doorbell rang. Perfect timing for Mom to avoid my question.

My stomach flip-flopped. I’d been dreading the moment Natasha and Mars would arrive.

Mom flicked a piece of fuzz off my shoulder. “Couldn’t you have worn something that showed a little cleavage?”

What could she possibly be thinking? I didn’t have time to contemplate it. I sucked in a deep breath of air, pasted a smile on my face, and answered the door.

Complete chaos ensued. Dad returned with Daisy, who shot into the house. Mars arrived with Natasha at the same time that the colonel and MacArthur strode up the walk followed by Craig.

They paired off quickly. MacArthur, the bulldog, romped with his old buddy, Daisy. Dad and the colonel commandeered the den.

Natasha, wearing her smiling TV hostess face, handed me a wreath of sugar pumpkins. A votive candle rested in each hollowed-out pumpkin.

“You didn’t have to bring anything.” I examined it closely. She’d made little holes for the light to shine through. “When could you possibly have had the time to make this?”

“It didn’t take long. I borrowed a few things from the hotel maintenance department. Thanksgiving’s a slow time for them. They didn’t mind.” She held out her arms and cried, “Hannah!”

With barely restrained southern graciousness, she fussed over my sister. “I haven’t seen you in years. Just as pretty as ever. You know I always said if I could have a little sister, I’d want her to be just like you.”

Hannah introduced Natasha to Craig, which brought on a fresh torrent from Natasha. “Only seven months until the wedding? That’s not much time. You have to tell me everything you’re planning.”

Little did Natasha know that a recitation of the details could last right up to the wedding day.

Hannah wore a buff-colored sweater set and tiny pearl earrings, a major change from her usual hot-pink clothes and bold jewelry. More of Craig’s influence? Her blonde tresses bouncing from their hot curler treatment, Hannah ushered Natasha and Craig into the sunroom.

Mom suggested sending Mars and June into the living room for the private time June had wanted with her son but I stopped her and handed her the pumpkin wreath. “I’d like a word with Mars, if you don’t mind. Would you find room for this on the buffet?”

She raised an eyebrow at me but acquiesced, grinning. “I’ll help your dad serve cocktails.”

Mars tilted his head. “Natasha said you’d try something like this, but I insisted we were past that. Sophie, hon, seeing you yesterday rekindled some feelings, but I’m not ready to leave Nat.”

“You flatter yourself. I need to talk to you about June.”

“Oh, no, not you, too. Nat thinks it’s time for Mom to move to a home for the elderly.”

“I don’t want that, but I am worried.”

He followed me to the kitchen entry. I held out my hand to stop him from going in.

We could hear June saying, “That couldn’t be helped. But don’t you see, this is an opportunity to get Sophie and Mars back together again.”

Mars muttered, “Aw, Mom.” He walked into the kitchen and looked around. In a kind voice he asked, “Who are you talking to?”

She didn’t drop a stitch of her knitting when she said, “Your aunt Faye.”

Mars’s eyes couldn’t have opened wider if he had actually seen Faye’s ghost. He kneeled beside her. “Mom,” he said in the most gentle tone I’d ever heard him use, “Faye has been dead for several years.”

June kept knitting. “You didn’t think she’d leave this house, did you?”

“You think Aunt Faye’s ghost is haunting this house?” Mars gripped the edge of the chair, looked up at me, and winced as he waited for her answer.

“Haunt doesn’t seem right. That has spooky implications. I feel her spirit here.”

Relief flooded Mars’s face. “So you don’t really hear Faye talking.”

“Oh, no! I hear her very well. It’s lovely having a visit with her again.”

Mars bowed his head, no doubt to hide a worried expression. “Sophie and I don’t hear Faye.”

“Maybe you’re not listening.”

Mars rose and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.

“Mom, you need to face reality. Faye is dead and Sophie and I are divorced. I’m with Natasha now.”

“I know that. I’m not daft.”

I tried, too. “June, it’s lovely that you’d like to see us reunite but that’s not going to happen.”