Chapter 72

From the Journal of Honey Sutton Oct. 6, 1938

The beauty shop was buzzing with talk today. Max's announcement that he will not be running for mayor this December was overshadowed by Grace's scorching editorial. My customers could understand that Max would want some relief from the workload of being principal, teacher, and mayor at the same time. However, even those who shared Grace's contempt for Hitler refused to believe that the settlement of the Czechoslovakian crisis doesn't mean an end to the threat of war in Europe.

Maureen Doogan actually asked if Grace wanted her boys and mine to go to war. I answered that I didn't think she did. I still can't believe that she thinks a war over Czechoslovakia would have been the best choice, although I didn't say that to Maureen.

At lunch, I asked Grace how long it was likely to be before her "inevitable" war happens. The haunted look in her eyes made me wish I hadn't. Her reluctant but firm answer was within the next year or two, no longer. I was relieved when we moved on to other topics

…Starting next week Grace will no longer be working at CRNB. Mother Bailey will begin to search for a new executive secretary once a new vice president and future president of the Silverdome Mining Company is chosen. It is hard to believe, but Grace really is leaving New Bedford. The children especially will miss her. They adore their kind, softhearted aunt. I will miss her too, fierce jeremiads and all.

We have had our disagreements, but she has been a good friend to me and to my family. Van spoke to Grace on the phone last night. His fundraising tour is going well. He and his filmmaker friends will soon be able to send a respectable amount of medical supplies to Spain. Grace can hardly wait to meet Van in New York after the tour is finished. She is brimming with anticipation.

While she was in a good mood, I asked her if what Marjorie had told me was true. Did she actually visit Otto Graham at the bank two days ago? She had. I was more than a little surprised. I didn't think that they got along that well even if his daughter was dating her nephew.

Grace corrected me. They weren't the best of friends, but Mr. Graham is generally polite to her these days. He either feels no need to repeat himself about her being a bad example to girls or sees no point in saying anything with her about to leave New Bedford anyway. Grace admitted that Mr. Graham had arranged for her to meet with the loan officer of the Royal Dominion Bank branch in Blezard Valley on her way to Toronto and New York.

From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -

I should have known that Mrs. Cramp wouldn't let me finish my final day of work at CRNB without springing one last live remote on me. It was a generous and thoughtful parting gift, the chance to go out in a blaze of humiliation. Carrie Grange was a sweet and dear lady who trusted me absolutely and whom I was starting to consider a friend. Suggesting that she have the honor of covering the Presbyterian Church supper instead of me was a rotten thing for me to do to her and I blush to think of it even now. However, after my previous live remote, I had needed to wet my hair with warm water four times to get the plaster out.

I could hardly be blamed for not wanting to give unkind fate another chance at me. Nonetheless, Mrs. Cramp insisted. She did not hesitate to point out that some of my fellow Presbyterians might find it a little indelicate for the wife of the United Church minister to be asking questions at a Presbyterian church supper even in a friendly spirit. I knew the ones she meant. One or two still had hard feelings about the fracture caused thirteen years ago when two-thirds of the Presbyterian congregations in Canada joined with the Methodists and other denominations to form the United Church.

Jenny MacDowell threw a slice of cake at Miranda Shields, but, of course, she ducked. Naturally, I was standing behind her trying to decide who to interview next and ended up with a face full of crumbs and icing. Miranda was an insufferable witch who shouldn't have rubbed it in that she married the boy Jenny was crazy about in high school. Nor should she have added that it was too bad that Jenny never did marry, but she supposed that some people were just born to be old maids. Still, the word Jenny screamed at Miranda at that moment really didn't belong on radio.

After handing the mike to a surprised Toppy and telling the radio audience that she was going to say a few words about the fashions the guests were wearing, I slowly lifted a lemon cream pie from the dessert table. Miranda looked on smirking in anticipation. I must have had a dangerous look in my eye, because Jenny nervously backed up a step.

I raised the pie and sent it sailing through the air. All those summer afternoons of tossing a baseball with my brothers when we were children paid off. The short range didn't hurt either. Before she realized what was happening, Miranda Shields' face was dripping with pie crust and lemon cream. She sputtered, "What was that for?"

"I'm sure that Jenny asked the same question every time you did her dirt during the last twenty years," I answered sweetly. Miranda glared at me and snatched up another pie which the Reverend Hall deftly removed from her hand before she could throw it. Mother thanked him for keeping the picnic from turning into a Laurel and Hardy comedy.

The Reverend admonished Jenny, Miranda, and me for our behavior. We were grown women and should know better. After Jenny apologized to me and Miranda, I responded as contritely as I could. "I ask God's and Mrs. Shields' forgiveness for losing my temper …."

Miranda hmmphed and stalked away. The Reverend turned to speak to Jenny. It is a terrible thing to have to admit, but I then turned to Mother and added under my breath, "…and for not regretting it in the least."

Mother just raised an eyebrow and answered dryly that she had always known that the wheels of justice grind exceedingly fine, but this is the first time she had ever seen them greased by lemon cream.

From "First Presbyterian Holds Church Supper," New Bedford Chronicle, Oct. 12, 1938

… The many delicious cakes and pies at the dessert table were a particular favorite. More than one of the guests partook of them with enthusiasm.

From the Journal of Honey Sutton Oct. 10, 1938

Grace seems determined to leave no good deed undone before she and Van make their departure from New Bedford. Max learned from Jim Flett today that she persuaded May to rent him an apartment in the Oak Leaf Apartments. Jim is delighted to be moving somewhere less tiny than his room at the New Bedford Inn and not much more expensive. I should have seen this coming when Mother Bailey bought back the Oak Leaf Apartments from the real estate company she sold them to four years ago for money for her and Grace to live on when the Silverdome Mine was foundering.

She was talking at Sunday dinner about her plans for it. The Depression has kept the previous owners from making much of a profit. Grace and her mother expect that to change when the next war comes and lifts Canada out of the Depression.

I wish I had kept my mouth shut at that point instead of tentatively suggesting that their plan sounded a little like profiteering. I could have sunk into the floor when Mother Bailey coldly informed me that she had no intention of raising rents sky high the way too many landlords did during the Great War. She intended to keep her rents reasonable and earn a fair profit and nothing more.

In three weeks: Truly impatient people. Two top candidates. A woman of her word.