Nov. 4

Again, this won't make much sense unless you've been following the November 1, 2, 3 posts. -- GHC

The rumor that the Glungers were holding a post-wedding shower for Lydia originated in Mr. Glunger’s own housewares department. A wormy spinster with a shrill voice by the name of Camille Carson was in close proximity as Lydia noted her preferences in the Bridal Registry. Camille’s life had lacked impact or importance since she’d drawn her first breath. She’d been a puny child but was never sufficiently ill enough that her parents fawned over her. The only notable aspect about Camille was her name, which her mother had chosen in a post-partum drug-induced haze. At the time Mrs. Carson instructed the hospital secretary to inscribe it on the birth certificate, the name had seemed terribly romantic. Within a month of sober reflection upon her lapse in judgment, her mother regretted naming Camille for the world’s most famous terminally ill courtesan. By then the child’s name had been entered in the court’s official records and the Carsons decided it would be more embarrassing to initiate a legal name change than to finesse the gaff. Later in life when the voice teacher handed Mrs. Carson back her five dollars and explained she couldn’t do a thing for Camille’s screeching articulation Mrs. Carson had made light of it, claiming “Well, one can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear, can one?” That had pretty much been the story of Camille’s life.

So when Camille overheard Lydia and Carey in Housewares, she realized she’d picked up on the scoop of the year if not the decade. This is confirmation that Lydia did marry that boy, and I’m the first to know about it! Camille hurried down the stairs and dashed to the payphone on Mezzanine so she could call her girlfriend and share the news flash.

Within minutes, the phone tree was in full swing. While August had been a notable month, September was panning out to be exceptional in its own right. All across the Edgewood area women were clucking their tongues about what a scandal that Lydia was. Her poor mother! I don’t know how she holds her head up any more.
* * *
Lila Glunger closed her address book and ticked off the guest list. It would be a squeeze if everyone showed up but it was Lydia’s 18th birthday party and Carey wanted it to be special. Carey was usually so tight-fisted but this time he’d given Lila carte blanch – no doubt because of “the situation.” Carey had really bent over backwards for this party. He’d moved heaven and earth and had invitations rush-printed at the store. He’d even suggested a cotillion theme, all white balloons and streamers. Lila was caught up in the fun and since there was only two weeks before the party date and she had so much to arrange, she’d nearly forgotten about the ugliness of the week before.

Carey had even volunteered to have his secretary address and mail the invitations. All of Lila’s bridge club members, the ladies aide society, the church ladies, the country club women, and Lydia’s friends had been invited to celebrate with the Glungers. The menu was decided upon and the decorations purchased. Now all that was left to do was to sit back and wait for the party to begin.