From the Relief Society Magazine, November 1955 –

Covers for Four

By Sarah O. Moss

Alice hung up the receiver, ready to cry of disappointment. How could Anne just take over and say, “We’re having Ellen and Bob for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow? I know you’ll understand, Alice. Our house isn’t large, and our table just seats four comfortably, or we’d have asked you all.”

Alice continued with her dusting. She polished the big table, added extra leaves, and spread the pad before laying the white cloth, resenting its cottony look, as she put the crystal bowl in the center. The Jamison bowl! Old, lovely, beautiful – the symbol of the courage and the hospitality of the Jamisons for generations. Every Thanksgiving it appeared on some Jamison table. Holidays it seemed to center the families in warmth and good will. It was the one thing that Anne wanted from the family treasures.

She doesn’t deserve it, thought Alice, standing back to get the full effect, then she filled it with purple grapes and a few red apples. Thanksgiving without Ellen, her youngest sister, and her husband’s youngest brother Bob! The two brothers, Robert and Phil, had married the two sisters, Ellen and Alice; the third brother, Richard, lived a few miles distant, with his wife Anne.

Alice sat down to think things out. Incidentally they were expecting Ellen and Bob on the two o’clock train tomorrow, from Portland, Oregon, where he taught school. The message had come from friends passing through the city. Alice had taken it for granted that she would share the holiday with her lovable young sister, Ellen, and her husband and including, of course, Richard and Anne. And then Anne had decided to set her table for four! It wasn’t fair!

Alice continued with her household tasks, every once in a while her eyes brimmed with tears. She was glad that the two babies slept, as her emotions engulfed her reasoning. She felt that Anne wanted Ellen and Robert to show off her beautiful home to them, her immaculate housekeeping, and her perfect cookery. For four it could be so easy, so beautiful, thought Alice, but she had six youngsters! She gave the big turkey she was stuffing a fierce slap, as she set it in the roaster ready for the oven, then went on with her pie making.

She was glad when the day wore on and the four children came home from school. Cathy and Jane bubbled with laughter and complaints about assignments due, and the big game coming on the week end. Young Tommy was hungry, and six-year-old Gary woke up the three-year-old Sharon and the six-months-old baby, Mike. The “brood,” Anne had called the children when they’d all gone to call on her, and Alice had decided not to take the children there again.

When Phil came in at six, Alice told him she was cross. “You should be grateful,” Phil chided her. “Thanksgiving’s tomorrow, and I’m home.”

Alice smiled up at him. Then she told him about the hurt in her heart.

“Why can’t they all come here?” asked Phil.

Yes, why couldn’t they? It was what Alice had wanted, what Phil wanted – all the families – all the Jamisons.

“Just call Aunt Anne up and tell her we’re having Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bob, no matter what,” said Cathy stormily.

“Thanksgiving without company? It won’t be any fun,” said Jane.

It was midnight when Alice finally went to bed, and, as was her habit, she shook off all hate, resentment, and ill feelings she might have for anyone, before she went to sleep. Tonight it was Anne to whom she must send her thoughts of love, and strangely, the hurt which had loomed so large through the day, seemed small and the problem of little consequence, as she lay, watching the moonlight wash over the room. Thanksgiving, she thought. I have so much. A fine husband, a good clean home, six beautiful children. Alice smiled to herself. She’d been so silly, resenting Anne. She’d see Ellen sometime during the day. What matter if Anne got a thrill out of having just four? With peace in her heart, Alice fell instantly asleep.

The morning dawned with the wind blowing fiercely. Gusts shook the windows and doors, and the feeling of winter was in the air. It was good to be in. It was good to be warm.

They all went busily about the preparations for the day. Phil built the fire in the grate. The girls made the beds and straightened up. Phil later took over the feeding and the bathing of the smaller children. Alice was left to prepare the dinner.

She lifted the turkey out of the big granite roaster, and set it on a platter to keep warm in the oven, while she took care of the drippings for the gravy. Then she went on with the table setting, when, suddenly, the door opened with a gust of wind filling the room, and there stood Ellen and Bob!

Screams of glee rent the air as the children crowded round the newcomers. Phil hurried into the room with the baby wrapped in a large towel.

“We thought you were coming on the train,” he said, shaking Bob’s hand.

“We couldn’t wait,” said Ellen. “We came just ahead of a snow-storm.” She hugged the open fire, as she sat close by with the gurgling baby on her lap.

“Food,” said Bob, sniffing the air. “We’re starved, Alice. How soon can we eat?”

Alice looked at her husband’s youngest brother with amused tolerance. “Sorry,” she said. “Not a mouthful. You’re due at Anne’s and Dick’s. The table’s all set for four.” Alice visioned the perfect setting in Anne’s beautiful home – four of everything, the gold-etched china at each place setting, sparkling crystal on the white linen cloth, the fire glowing and formal serving procedure throughout the meal.

“Dick’s meeting the train, about now,” she added.

Ellen pouted. “But that’s not what I came for,” she said. “I want to stay here. You’re my family – you, Phil, and the children.”

“We’ll run down after a while and say hello,” added Bob hopefully.

Alice felt uneasy. After all, guests, whoever they were, had an obligation. Ellen and Bob, at least, should call Anne. Perhaps the blizzard, the long ride, might be a justification for their not going, but Anne might put the blame on Alice. She had Bob call his sister-in-law.

“She sounded mad as a hornet,” he said, a few minutes later. “I suppose we should have gone.” He looked at Ellen, but Ellen was busy helping Alice with the table.

They laughed at the conglomeration of china and pottery. There were only six matched plates, and the pottery didn’t go so well with it, and there were but five best goblets.

“What’s the difference?” asked Ellen when Alice apologized, “just so we’re together on Thanksgiving Day, is all that matters.”

“That is right,” agreed Alice.

They bantered, they laughed, and they talked about each side of the family. it was delightful, like this, with Ellen so close. It was just as Alice had dreamed and hoped, but she felt uneasy about Anne. She wished that Ellen and Bob had gone to Anne’s and Dick’s. Anne’s little fussy ways, her quest for perfection, her immaturity, were things she would outgrow, with help. They were traits that made Anne what she was. Alice was sorry things had turned out as they had.

Alice made the gravy, and Ellen mashed the potatoes. The girls whipped cream for the pies, and Bob opened cans of fruit juice for the punch. Phil was laboriously getting the turkey onto the platter, when the telephone rang.

“It’s for you, Mother,” reported Tommy, who had answered it.

Alice felt sure it was Anne. it was.

Anne was crying. “Alice, you must help me. Please help me!”

“If you’ll explain – of course I’ll help you. What do you want me to do? Did the meat burn, or did the pudding boil over?” Alice tried to sound gay to the overwrought girl.

“Just come to dinner,” Anne said. “All of you. Please come.”

Between sobbing ane explaining, Alice finally made out what her sister-in-law was saying. “Dick is angry – terribly angry. He said I should have invited all of you in the first place.”

Alice listened. “Well, I quite agree with him,” she laughed.

Anne hesitated. “You’re so understanding,” she cried. “Do you think you could come, even now, after my upsetting the whole day for you?”

“Now?” Alice gasped. “Our dinner’s on the table!”

“Don’t you see? Dick wanted his brothers. He wanted his family. Somehow, the three of them belong. Then, when Bob didn’t want to come, either, well, I can see now we have a house and nothing in it, even on thanksgiving.”

Alice hesitated. “We’ll come,” she said, “sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Quite sure,” said Anne gratefully. ‘In fact, I never was so sure of anything in my life. And thanks a million.”

To the consternation of everyone, Alice explained and organized as she talked. Then she began handing things to anyone closest at hand, leggings and warm coats for the little ones, heavy coats for the adults. They all rushed back and forth from the house to the station wagon. They carried out the big kettle of hot potatoes, the turkey, the pies. Alice took a tray and gathered up some of the good things from the table, red currant jelly, pickles, and a bowl of nuts. Finally, everyone was settled in the station wagon waiting for her.

Anne’s going to be floored, Alice thought to herself, as she visioned all of the Jamisons bulging Anne’s small house. She stood by the door and looked at the wrecked table. Only the crystal bowl stood untouched, the purple grapes and the red apples shining through the rose design.

She stepped to the table, took the bowl carefully in her hands, then hurried to the waiting car.