The Wormy Chappaquas, a united front of grayness, offered cookies and shy smiles.
“Rats,” Ivan whispered to us. “The Advice Lady!”
Taking forever to waddle up with her pathetic dog, bringing nothing but advice, she called out, “I hope you’re not serving anything with mayonnaise in this heat.” She shuffled over to where Dimma, Madame de Haan, and Senhora sat.
The Goncharoffs arrived, Maria bearing a platter of what looked like hundreds of diminutive tacos arranged around a generous bowl of salsa. Katya and Alexander were for once in shorts (but no shirts), and Josef was wearing a gabardine shirt and an overly big smile. He said, “A fabulous fiesta, all right!” and went to speak to the ladies, who greeted him curtly. Brickie had his eyes on him, I noticed. Where was Elena? I looked at Ivan, and he said, “She’s not going to come over with him. She’s probably bringing the cake.”
Then came the Pond Lady, which really surprised us, but she had some kind of portable breathing thing. Josephine, so pretty in a turquoise lace dress, pushed her along in a wheelchair, and winked to acknowledge us. They settled in with the other ladies. Brickie played Duke Ellington’s “Take the A Train.”
Gellert and his family came up hesitantly, eyes darting about. We welcomed them heartily, wishing Elena was there to see how hospitable we were being, and reassured the family that Elena’d arrive soon. I pulled over two chairs for Gellert’s parents, and we directed them to the drinks and food.
The adults migrated to the punch and beer table, where Max was ladling our Special Tropical Punch into Dixie cups and Senhor Montebianco was topping off each one with a generous splash from his jug. Mr. Shreve handed out beers and made boisterous remarks. My grandmother looked doubtfully into her cup and said, “I hope the rum sterilizes whatever is in here.” She smiled flirtatiously at Senhor, who said, “Rum improves all things, moca charmosa.” They walked off together, leaving the rum jug behind. Max quickly emptied the entire jug into the punch bucket. We helped ourselves. The grown-ups were paying no attention. It seemed possible they might be enjoying themselves. Liz begged Brickie for “The Stroll,” and she lined up all the younger people, trying to teach us the very hip dance, but only she and Maari could do it.
Maria and Josephine fussed around the food tables and people began eating. The Good Humor truck came up the street, Tim clanging his bells as if it were Paris on VE day. He loped up the yard with a Thompson’s Dairy ice chest, looking younger in civilian clothes. “Where’s Elena?” he asked, handing out Popsicles. I said confidently, “She’ll be here,” although I wasn’t feeling confident at all and wondered if Ivan was. Tim grabbed a beer and joined the men around the record player. He snapped the bottle open with his belt buckle, impressing my grandfather and Mr. Shreve, who said, before pushing a mayonnaise-filled deviled egg into his face, “We could use a tricky boy with your skills down at HQ. Think of the intel you could gather from an ice cream truck!”
After two cups of punch, three eggs, and many tacos, I felt languid and lay down on the thick St. Augustine grass. Ivan, Max, and Beatriz joined me. We surveyed the scene. The little kids ran wild, followed by Gellert and Zariya, who were supposedly watching them. Beau and D.L. slunk around with food in their hands, looking for opportunities to swipe beers. The General sat talking to the Pond and Advice ladies. Tim and Maria, the Andersens, and Max’s mom and dad began rumba-ing, following the Montebiancos’ lead, to the music of what I thought I recognized as Brickie’s hero Laurindo Almeida. The other men stood together, drinking and discussing the records that lay all over the steps. People kept cheerfully helping themselves to beers or more Special Tropical Punch.
And then, finally, Elena made her appearance, looking gloriously Rosalind Russell in an off-the-shoulder white blouse, black capris, and a blue scarf, and carrying our cake. A large alligator bag hung from one shoulder. “My friends! You’ve made a wonderful party!” Setting down the cake on the table, she waved to the adults and made a beeline for Gellert’s mom and dad. Then she made the rounds, talking with people, hugging Gellert, and after a while she came over to our spot on the grass. “I’m so glad Gellert’s family came!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, my darlings!” She sat down with us, stretching out her long goddess legs. Max jumped up, wobbling a bit, and got Elena punch and cake, giving her the piece with my steel penny. Plucking it off and licking it clean, she handed it to me and said, “Keep it for me, will you, John?” Taking a sip of punch, she exclaimed, “Wow! I did need this!” and drained her cup. Max refilled it. “My face looks better, doesn’t it?” she asked, and we all agreed. Kees and Piet shyly joined us, sitting on the periphery of our little group. The Shreve boys sauntered up, and I could tell they wanted to sit with us, but they stood. Elena was like the sun and we were all planets in her orbit. Blue icing around all our mouths, we cracked jokes about our parents, or, in my case, grandparents. Kees and Piet were actually funny—Kees remarked that the General won the award for Biggest Beer Gut at the party, and it would be hard for him to get close enough to anyone to dance. D.L. said his mom was such a good dancer she’d make a great stripper, which made us laugh, though we knew it was over the line. “D.L.! That’s your mother!” Elena said, but she laughed, too. The Shreves moseyed off to steal more beer and chug it in the porte cochere.
Louis Jordan’s “Reet, Petite, and Gone” was playing, and several of the older grown-ups couldn’t help themselves and began jitterbugging to the irresistible tune. Brickie and Dimma were the best dancers, I noticed, although Mrs. Shreve really was good, and so was the Senhor. “We can dance if you want, Elena,” I said, though I didn’t know if I’d be able.
“Oh, I’m fine right here with you kids.” Ivan moved closer, laying his head on her thigh. I was seized again with intense longing.
Tim walked over, a beer in his hand, his nice shirt translucent with sweat. “You look great, as usual,” he said to Elena. “Where’s this date of yours?”
Elena smiled. “He’s picking me up in a little while.”
“Well, please put me on your dance card before then, Miss Fabulous Family Fiesta Queen.”
“Maybe when it cools off a little.” She fanned herself with her hand.
“I can wait.” Tim smiled and staggered off, pulling Liz, thrilled at his attention, into the circle of swinging bodies.
Beatriz said, “We should do the entertainment now that Elena’s here.” Although I had been excited about showing off for the guests, I felt too woozy and good to get up and do anything, let alone shoot arrows. I was afraid that now I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.
“C’mon, you guys, get up!” Beatriz ordered.
The three of us rose reluctantly and walked a little unsteadily behind Beatriz toward our front steps. Brickie stopped the record player.
Beatriz shouted, “Attention! Attention! Ladies and gentlemen, we proudly present our entertainment! We hope you enjoy it!” Everyone moved closer to the steps and got quieter, except for the Shreve boys, who yelled, “Oh, no! Circus acts!”
Mrs. Shreve hissed at them, “Hush, you wrayetches.”
We stood there stupidly, and Max whispered, “Who’s going first?”
Ivan and I shook our heads and Beatriz said, “I’m going last because I’m the main attraction.”
“Okay, you chickens,” Max said. “I guess I’ll just get this over with.” He picked up his glittery new Duncan Imperial and spun it out a couple times to warm up. He Walked the Dog, receiving some applause, then followed that with a Skin the Cat, a Sleeper, and an Around the World, all perfectly executed in quick succession. He bowed, and everyone applauded, and Tim gave an ear-splitting whistle.