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We nod in agreement and turn back to applaud as the singer finishes. “God, I’m glad that’s over.” I say quietly. I swear that was the worst rendition of Dancing Queen I’ve ever heard. Donna Pescow would be offended, not to mention the gals from ABBA! We giggle.
Trisha leaves our table to walk to the office behind the hostess’s podium. We clap for the next singer and wait for our comrade to come back. The song is “Get Closer,” originally sungby Seals and Crofts. Lord, I wish they were here instead of this gal who obviously can’t hear herself because she isn’t singing a single note at the right tone. It’s tone-deaf people like this who give karaoke a bad rap. I shake my head slightly as we suffer through her performance.
A third singer is announced and performs. We order a round of nachos and beer.
Trisha finally comes back to our table and scoops a bite of nachos. “Okay. Dell said ‘sure,’ but we have to get a flier made up and distributed so it looks legit.”
“Sure, we can do that.” Michelle says around cheese and tortilla chips.
I smile and drink my beer. These girlfriends are the best. “When do we want to have the contest?”
“Soon.” Cindy says as she shoves more nachos into her mouth.
“Yeah, not Saturday, though.” Suzie speaks around the chips and meat. “How about Wednesday? Or Monday?”
I laugh. “Why Wednesday or Monday?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Because it’s not Saturday.”
We laugh.
“Okay, how soon can we get fliers made?” I ask.
Michelle swallows her food. “I can make them Monday at the bank.”
“Do you think Wednesday is too soon?” I look each of them in the eyes.
Munching is their response along with shrugs, then Michelle says, “Maybe we should do it on Friday.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Friday it is.” I pull out a pen and write an announcement on my napkin, then take it to Mister DJ and ask him to make it.
He does and the crowd seems excited.
There. We have a plan and the plan is implemented. Now to invite Kate. I lift my phone and send her a text about the contest and ask her for a ride. Even if Kiley is fixed, I’ll pretend I need Kate to drive me. I want to ensure she will be there and if she brings me, she will be more likely to stay.
She replies in her usual short and sweet, “Sure.”?
“Yeah, Chris, this is Maribeth.” The first thing I do after my three cups of coffee on Monday morning is call about Kiley as if she is my child in an isolation ward at the hospital and my only form of communication is to call once a day and see how she’s doing. “Any news on a new engine for my baby?”
“No.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. I haven’t given up, though.”
“Okay. I guess, just, let me know.” I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“You know I will.” He assures me.
“Thank you.”
“You bet.” We disconnect. And I put my phone down gently. I was really hoping to get my car back this week. Knowing what the girls and I have planned for Kate makes it really difficult for me to sit innocently in her back seat and not reveal that I’m up to something. It’s something for her good, butif she finds out, she probably will refuse to accept it, and I just cannot have that. I have to help her buy her house.
My phone rings. Had Chris found an engine after all? I lift it and look at the screen.
It’s an unknown number according to my phonebook, but the number looks familiar, somehow.
“Hello?” I answer it despite my trepidation. This better not be about an auto warranty!
“Maribeth.” A shaky, familiar voice comes through.
“Uncle Donald?” My heart skips through a field of white daisies. Joy fills my chest. It’s like hearing from my own father to hear Uncle Donald’s voice. “How are you?”
