Dr. Hubbard galloped by, and presently Faith spotted Denise.
“There's my friend Denise," she told Tom. "The woman in the black crepe Armani dress over there."
“Pretty, but not my type. Too fashionable," Tom commented.
“And I'm not?"
“That doesn't deserve an answer. Let's just say I like to run my fingers through some hair, not an inch of stubble. If I want that, I can stop shaving for a couple of days.”
What was it with men and long hair? If Tom and his ilk had their way, we'd all be Rapunzels, Faith reflected.
“I wonder who that is she's dancing with. I haven't seen him at Hubbard House. Maybe someone she's seeing.”
Denise's partner was handsome in a Richard Gere sort of way, and his tuxedo was a bit more current—and snuggly fitting—than those of the men who were waltzing around him. They mostly sported the timeless boxy numbers from Brooks dug out from the backs of their closets year after year for occasions like this.
Faith looked over at Tom. He looked good in black—fortunately for his calling—but she had to admit she preferred the well-cut tux from Barneÿ s she had given him their first Christmas together to his robes.
He caught her stare. "Want to dance, honey? It is a ball, remember."
“Love to," she replied, and jumped up. "I don't think my card is filled."
“Lucky, lucky me," Tom whispered in her ear as he pulled her close.
“Dance me over to Denise—I want to say hello," Faith instructed him, and veered toward the other couple.
“I was under the impression that the dance floor was the one place where I got to lead, darling, but it looks like I'm wrong there too. Just shove me wherever you want."
“Martyr," Faith said, and steered toward Denise.
As they got closer, Faith became aware that Denise was involved in a heated conversation with her partner. Her cheeks were red and she seemed close to tears. When they drew up next to them, Faith heard her say, "Please, please. You know I wouldn't ask you unless—" She broke off abruptly at the sight of Faith and composed her face in a welcoming smile.
“How lovely to see you, Faith. And you must be the Reverend Fairchild. I'm so glad you could come and I was able to get you at my table."
“Yes, we saw. You can tell us everyone's names." Faith hoped the hint wasn't too blatant, and to cover up asked hastily, "Is Mrs. P. here?”
Surprisingly, Denise's partner answered.
“Mrs. Pendergast! In this crowd! Do you think she got an invite, Denny?" he asked mockingly.
“Of course she did," Denise answered in a slightly angry tone. "She told me she'd rather put her feet up. I think her sister-in-law was coming over and they were going to watch their tapes of 'The Golden Girls' and have a glass or two of Kahlùa. A big night," she finished on a lighter note.
The music stopped and Dr. Hubbard walked up to the band leader and took the microphone.
“Would you take your seats now, friends? They're going to be serving dinner and you're also going to have to hear from me.”
The crowd moved immediately to the round tables, neither prospect being an unpleasant one, it appeared.
Faith and Tom followed Denise. She still had not introduced them to the man with whom she was dancing, nor did he seem to be seated at her table.
Someone who obviously knew Hubbard House, Faith noted. Could it be Donald Hubbard? But Donald was in his mid to late thirties, and this man was much younger. Besides, there was something about him that suggested a profession other than medicine. She realized what it was. He was tan—and this was the wrong time of year for those doctors who frequented the course or courts to have one. Then she remembered Charmaine had recently come back from a cruise. Perhaps her husband had gone with her.
Faith sat down, and a waiter brought a steaming bowl of what she saw from the menu card was crawfish bisque with Armagnac. She liked eating someone else's cooking as much, as and sometimes more than her own—if it was good. She tooka sip. This was. The rest of the menu was appro priately festive: Boston Bibb lettuce with pomegranate-seed dressing, beef Wellington, wild rice, and plum pudding for dessert. They were going to have to do a great deal of dancing to burn it all off, she told Tom.
“Don't worry, I'm ready."
“Neither of you looks like you've ever had to worry about a calorie in your lives, whereas I've been on a diet continuously since I was thirteen." Denise sighed. She reached into her pocketbook and took out a pack of cigarettes. "Oh, I almost forgot. No smoking. Roland is quite a crusader.”
Faith had noticed all the signs at Hubbard House with a picture of the bird and "No Puffin' " on them, but assumed it was because of a state requirement. She was thankful for Dr. Hubbard's convictions. She hated to eat with the smell of smoke surrounding her. As to what people wanted to do to themselves elsewhere, that was their own business.
Dr. Hubbard was starting to speak, and the microphone didn't make any untoward noises for him, nor did he find it necessary to test it. He started in with no ado at all.
“Residents of Hubbard House, my charming Pink Ladies, spouses, friends—friends all, I'd like to welcome you to yet another Holly Ball. Although we have already passed the time of year when we give collective thanks, I have always felt that this gathering is my personal thanksgiving. It is the time when we gather together in joy, and as I look out at all of you, I feel enormously thankful- for what you contribute to Hubbard House with your time and other resources, but most of all for the opportunity you grant me to continue doing what I have loved best in my life. As many of you are no doubt aware, Hubbard House came into existence a little over twenty-four years ago. Before that I was a doctor—a country doctor in those long-ago days. It was a wonderful experience—all those night calls." He paused for the laughter. "But when my dear wife Mary's illness prompted me to look for something that would keep me closer to her side, I knew immediately what I wanted to do. With her invaluable advice, I set about to create a place where one could live as an elderly person with both dignity and security. Where the individual would be cherished from the time he or she entered until leaving. I hope and pray we have accomplished this and will continue to do so for a long time to come.”
He stopped at the thunderous applause, then continued.
“So many others came on board to help us, and many of them are still here raising the sails"—another pause for appreciative laughter. "I'd like to introduce a few of them, though of course they are well known to you. First my esteemed colleague and son, Dr. Donald Hubbard, and his lovely wife, Charmaine.”
They stood to more applause, and Faith got a look at Donald. Roland's wife must have been short, she instantly thought. Otherwise Donald looked quite a bit like the old block. Charmaine had taken his arm and waved.
“Next my daughter, Muriel, without whom .. . as they say. Muriel stood up. She was wearing a black taffeta dress with a white collar and small jet buttons down the front. Faith saw her instantly at age eleven, still wearing smocked dresses with sashes. The braces had probably gone on about then too. Poor Muriel—one of those girls who got the lead in Our Town in high school and kept playing Emily earnestly ever after.