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not necessarily always true,” Kay said. “She could
still turn her life around with the right help.”
    “You did all you could for her, and how did she repay you?
Stealing from you and running away.”
    “Let’s talk about your new grandbaby,” Kay said. “I know you
have pictures and I’m dying to see how much she’s grown.”
    Kay was thus able to distract Ruthie from depressing
subjects and awkward walks down Memory Lane.
    An hour later, as Ruthie packed up her photo albums and
prepared to leave, it was all Kay could do not to sigh with relief. She loved
Ruthie but it wasn’t always easy.
    “Oh, one more thing,” Ruthie said. “Have you seen Hannah’s
campaign posters?”
    “I have,” Kay said. “I think they’re funny.”
    Animal Control Officer Hannah Campbell’s City Council
campaign poster featured a photo of herself dressed in a white choir robe,
surrounded by a veritable ark-full of animals that had been digitally added to
the photograph, holding her deceptively-cherubic-looking son, who had a tinsel
halo affixed to his head. The caption was “Beloved by animals and children,
trusted by all, vote for Hannah Campbell for Rose Hill City Council.”
    “She’s not taking it seriously, if you ask me,” Ruthie said.
“If she was, she’d be here campaigning instead of gallivanting off to Myrtle
Beach to horn in on her cousin’s honeymoon.”
    “Maggie and Scott invited the family for the last week of
their month in Myrtle Beach,” Kay said. “No one in that family has gone on a
vacation for years. It’s good for people to get away.”
    “I don’t see why the town should have to pay for the chief
of police to have a month off and pay for someone to cover for him,”
Ruthie said. “It just doesn’t seem right to use tax payer money that way.”
    “You missed the meeting where we voted on that,” Kay said.
“Scott’s earned more than enough vacation days; he just never gets to take
them. Laurie’s being paid out of the contingency fund, which Stuart never used
for anything legitimate; just whatever cockamamie scheme he was involved in at
the time.”
    “Like the time he sold our only good snowplow to Pendleton,
in the middle of the winter, and then didn’t have enough money to replace it.”
    “So he could pay for a new heated bandstand for the winter
festival, so his wife wouldn’t have cold feet in her high heels and fur coat.”
    “That man is a piece of work,” Ruthie said. “Do you think
he’ll serve any time?”
    “I’m sorry but I can’t talk about it.”
    “Oh, I know,” Ruthie said. “Someday, when this is all over,
you owe me a good, long chin wag. Just don’t go forgetting all the details.”
    “We’ll see,” Kay said, who wished she could forget.
     
    Kay had to put the leaves in her dining room table in order
to accommodate her many guests. She covered the table with her best linen tablecloth,
and set each place with her mother’s Virginia Rose pattern china. The final
touches were ivory tapers in pink Depression glass holders, and a green McCoy
Pottery vase full of over-bloomed pink peonies she had purchased on sale from
Erma at Sunshine Florist. She just hoped the petals would stay attached until
dinner was over.
    The Rose Hill Sentinel owner and editor, Ed Harrison,
arrived first, carrying a bottle of wine. Kay rarely drank anything stronger
than coffee, and had to dig out some wine glasses in order to accommodate the
gift.
    Ed was tall with the lean frame of a runner, had bright blue
eyes behind wire-frame glasses, and kept what hair he had left shaved close to
his head.
    “I appreciated the invitation,” Ed said. “I haven’t seen
Claire much these past few weeks, since the wedding. We’ve both been too busy,
I guess.”
    “The wedding was beautiful,” Kay said. “Claire did an
amazing job on such short notice.”
    “I’m just glad Maggie didn’t leave Scott at the altar.”
    “There was no fear of that,” Kay said. “Those two