Grandmama wafted into the family room as airily as a July breeze off the Gulf of Mexico. She looked radiant today in a rose colored silk shirt and shorts set, her elegantly dyed blonde hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head. Two wisps of hair had broken loose of the hold and dangled above either ear, giving her ageless face a vixon-esque look. Perfect for a seventy-year-old woman whose name still inspired awe in the world of fashion photography. She strolled up to her husband’s side and kissed him soundly on the cheek.
Granddad Willy harrrumphed—his favorite method of communication. “’Bout time you graced us with your presence, Verlene. I was beginning to think you’d up and disappeared.”
Verlene slapped him playfully on what was left of his rump, then sauntered over to Gwenyth and held her chin in her hand while she angled her granddaughter’s face this way and that, getting her first good look at the shiner. “Luckily for Jones & Jones, it’s your left eye,” Verlene murmured. “This won’t affect your scheduled shoot with the Vantrys tomorrow.”
Gwenyth smiled. “No ma’am. And thanks, by the way, for letting me grab the reins of this account and go with it.”
Verlene patted Gwenyth affectionately on the head. “It’s not me you should thank, sugar. It’s yourself. The Vantrys asked for you specifically to photograph their new line of sportswear. They didn’t ask for me.” She gave her that affectionate smile that grandmothers reserve only for their progeny. “I’m so proud of you, sugar. Me and Granddad both. Aren’t we Willy?”
“Sure are.”
Harry grinned. “Me too, Gwen.” He motioned toward the picture of Senator Green that had made the front page of the Miami Herald this morning, a photograph in which the incumbent politician was smiling at a less than impressively endowed NAM man who was beating on his chest and chanting. The paper had placed an embarrassingly tiny black bar across the protester’s genitalia. The caption read:Senator Green helps a voter reclaim his manhood.“In fact,” Harry beamed, “I couldn’t be prouder.”
Gwenyth laughed. She saluted her big brother with a glass of wine, holding it up as if in a toast. “My duty as a patriotic citizen.”
The Jones family settled down to a lively dinner of lasagna and sourdough bread, with tossed salad as the appetizer. They spoke of the impending election for over half of the meal, each of them offering Harry their individual predictions of how wide his winning margin would be on Judgment Day.
“I still say twenty percent.” Granddad Willy crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his disagreeing family members.
“Twenty percent!” Harry shook his head. “I’d love it, Granddad, but I doubt it. Even with Larry’s latest scandal, it will still be a tight race.”
Verlene looked thoughtful. “I doubt the margin will be as wide as twenty, but it won’t be as slim as you think, Harry. I vote eight percent.”
Gwenyth nodded her head up and down as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Grandmama’s right. Eight percent is what the pollsters are predicting as well.”
“I still say it will be more.” Willy opened up a second bottle of Chateau Blanc and poured a glass for his wife. “Y’all are forgettin’ that Harry hasn’t pulled out his really big gun yet.”
Gwenyth smiled wickedly. “Gee Harry, I didn’t think they’d let you show that on TV.”
Verlene and Granddad Willy laughed. Harry turned a delightful shade of pink. He’d always been a bit of a prude. Much to Granddad Willy’s never-ending disgruntlement.
Gwenyth’s dimples popped out as her mouth curled wryly. She patted her brother on the arm. “Just teasing. What’s your big gun, Bro?”
Harry’s intelligent eyes lit up. “Sam Tremont.”
Gwenyth’s hand stilled. She removed it from her sibling’s forearm. Nowthere’sa name she hadn’t heard spoken aloud in years. Outside of what one hears on the TV and in the papers that is. “Sam?” She held out her wineglass to Granddad Willy for a refill. “I didn’t know that you and he were still friends.”
Harry shrugged absently. “We haven’t talked in a few years, that’s true.”
Verlene inclined her head gracefully toward her grandson. “You’ve heard from him again I take it?”
“Uh huh.” Harry forked up a bite of lasagna and chewed thoughtfully. “You know how it is when you grow up and your life changes. You lose touch with your old friends and whatnot. But Sam called my campaign headquarters downtown after seeing me in the papers.” He shrugged again. “Said he’d like to help out.”
“When was this?”
“Maybe a month ago.”
Granddad Willy whistled through his false teeth. “No kiddin’? And here I thought your big gun was to be the fact that you’ll look better on TV during the debates than that geeky Green dude.” He snorted with an air of grateful relish at his grandson’s good luck. “Hell, Sam alone can help you in the polls, son. You’ll get the youngsters out to the votin’ booths with a star athlete like him peddlin’ for ya.” Willy smiled gamine-like. He threw the females of his clan a look of pure male ego. “Anybody care to recant their less than twenty percent prediction?” He waggled his eyebrows in challenge. “I won’t think less of you for it.”
Verlene rolled her eyes. “No.”
Granddad grunted.
Gwenyth dabbed at her mouth and rose up from her place at the table. She kissed Harry on the forehead, then offered the rest of them the same. “I have to catch an early flight,” she informed the group between smooches. “I better head back to my apartment and get some shut-eye.”
Harry stood up and sighed. “Me too. I’ll drive you home, Sis.”
Verlene rose from her place at the table to see her grandchildren to the front door. “Call me as soon as you finish tomorrow’s shoot, sugar. I want a full report.”
