Alpaca Makes a Decision

Silver Spoons

ll heads turned as Alpaca entered the back room of Mother Mary’s with Ned and Tarsal trailing behind. Just as those two gentlemen had, everyone else on the board expected a female version of Reverend Finn, short and quite round. However, Alpaca was the exact opposite of her blond blue-eyed brother. She was almost six feet tall with her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun at the nape of her neck; her huge brown eyes were so dark they appeared to be black, her full lips served to soften the harshness of her hairstyle. With her penetrating obsidian stare she was quite a striking figure.

Every one to a man automatically stood up and nervously smoothed his hair, if he had any. All appeared to stand at attention. That was the kind of respect Alpaca demanded without ever uttering a word. And, of course, every board member was a man, because, after all, it was 1950 and most women had their place, which was not on a church board overtly making decisions and running things. Alpaca knew her place and that place was wherever she decided would be most advantageous to her needs. 

With a slight not to Tarsal, Alpaca indicated that she was ready to be seated. He pulled out her chair for her and after she was seated, Ned and Tarsal took their places at the table as everyone sat down on the edges of their seats, avidly awaiting the words Alpaca would speak to settle, at least part, of their current quagmire. 

“Gentlemen, thank you very much for convening so promptly after my arrival today. I don’t believe in wasting time. And I feel quite certain that Dear Brother would not want his untimely demise to add further conflict your dilemma. I was afforded ample time to think while on my train journey from Minnesota to your lovely state and I have made a decision that I believe will be satisfactory to both factions. I know from personal conversations with my late brother that he wished to be buried here and not back in our hometown, Saints of the Lakes, of which he had no particularly fond memories. (That was putting it mildly.) I paid a call on Mr. Hendricks at the funeral parlor this afternoon. He advised me that due to Dear Brother’s rather large, um, girth that a suitable casket might come at an extra expense even with the discount that Hal, Mr. Hendricks, would apply in light of his fondness for the reverend. I am a woman of limited means, but I do not want to accept charity. The reverend’s funeral is not the church’s expense and he could only afford an extremely modest burial policy,” she said as she watched each board member squirm in his seat. Alpaca was attempting to be as diplomatic as possible, but tactfulness was not a place where she comfortably lived. 

“I’ve come to the practical conclusion that he should be cremated, the ashes divided evenly and given to each faction to bury in your respective, but now separate graveyards.”

“But..”

“Keep quite, Tarsal,” said Ned. 

Alpaca cleared her throat and continued, “Hal, Mr. Hendricks, tells me he can have the, um, preparations completed in time for a memorial service here at Mother Mary’s on Saturday morning, if that’s agreeable with everyone. Mr. Cochran and Mr. Henley will each be given a container with half the remains of my brother and each group can conduct their own graveside rite. 

Ned could see that Tarsal was about to object so he said, “It’s a sensible solution. There’s been enough squabbling and it is this good lady’s decision to make. With that settled, let’s address the matter of Miss Finn’s accommodations. Miss Finn has mentioned to Tarsal and me that she would like to make Chanceville her home. I make a motion that will allow her to remain in the parsonage until the board can dispose of it and divide the proceeds. There is no mortgage and Miss Finn has agreed to pay the light and water bills. “Well, maybe you’d just like to buy it yourself, Miss Finn, at a reasonable price of course,” said Tarsal. All heard turned toward Alpaca.

“Thank you so much for your kind offer. But the house is in a rather sad state and I cannot afford the cost of repairs and a mortgage. This will give me time to find an inexpensive apartment or a room in a boarding house. My needs are specific, but quite simple.”

Nine hands shot straight toward heaven to approve the motion. Ned looked at Tarsal who was examining his cuticles. 

“We have a majority, so we don’t need Tarsal Henley’s vote. Motion approved. Let’s go home,” said Ned. Ned and Tarsal bumped into each other trying to approach Alpaca. 

“I guess we’ll both walk you home,” said Tarsal, as they escorted her out the door. The rest of the board members shuffled out wishing this hadn’t been a church board meeting because a cold beer at Mother Mary’s bar sounded real good about now. 

Saturday morning dawned clear on the town of Chanceville and by 10:00 am was bright, white-hot. Alpaca was hoping the services would be short and sweet. Oh, of course, her late brother, the basically unlamented Reverend Trout Finn, deserved a decent burial, but one also had to be practical. Simple graveside rites then on to the Mother Mary’s for cool lemonade and finger sandwiches made by the ladies of the church would do just fine. And this would also give her the opportunity to invite the ladies to tea next week. 

She was hoping the women of the church would think that fighting over dogs going to heaven was too ridiculous to even acknowledge so that she wouldn’t have to have two separate teas and thus doubling her work and expense. She just wanted to get established in Chanceville society, such as it may be, and then acquire a husband, if all went according to the plan she was working on. 

Both halves of Reverend Finn Trout were laid to rest in the newly divided cemeteries with what could be diplomatically termed quiet respect. An outside observer might have interpreted it as a “let’s get it over with” attitude. Nevertheless, the duty was completed. The hot, sweaty and about to turn cranky bifurcated congregation trooped into the back room of Mother Mary’s Pool Hall for some of Oblivia Young’s watered down version of lemonade. Well, at least the drink was cold The ladies of the church had spared quite a bit of expense and made finger sandwiches with cucumbers and tomatoes from their very own gardens. After all, it wasn’t Godly to be ostentatious. If the Reverend Finn had been watching from his perch in heaven, he would have thought it was slim pickings, indeed. 

A Taste of Home

Now that everyone was cooled down and their appetites were somewhat sated, Alpaca decided it was time to put her plan into action. She couldn’t just move into town and go after the men folk. No. She had to sidle up to it; make it look like it was one of the church lady’s ideas. After going into the ladies powder room and making sure her face was adjusted into proper Grieving Sister demeanor, she approached Oblivia whom she had heard from her brother was the self-appointed leader of polite society in Chanceville. 

Oblivia did her best to keep a pleasant aura about herself, but with her long face and pinched nose, she was losing that battle. She always looked as if she had detected a bad odor in the air. 

“Hello, my dear,” she said to Alpaca as she pressed her thin lips into a smile, sadly, it always came out as a grimace. 

“I’m Oblivia Young. I’d like to officially welcome you to our town even though the circumstances are so very sad. Were you close to your brother?”

The first thought that entered Alpaca’s mind was that it would be hard to get close to someone who had such a large circumference as my brother did. But from what Alpaca had observed of Oblivia, she detected not one ounce of humor in her matronly body, so she decided to go for a diplomatically balanced answer.

“We were very close as children (bald-faced lie), but when Dear Brother received the call to the ministry and went off to seminary school we naturally drifted apart (bald-faced truth). Don’t misunderstand, his death was a horrible shock (mostly to himself, she thought), but one must go on, mustn’t one?” said Alpaca.

“Oh my goodness yes, the Good Lord knows I’ve certainly had my trials and tribulations with Henry and my son, Chester. But one does learn to cope,” said Oblivia, as she fanned herself with a fan on a stick, that looked like it had been rescued form the church long before the fire.

Alpaca then put on what she hoped would be her brave face, touch Oblivia’s arm lightly and said, “Since I’m going to be a member of this community I would like to hold the occasional afternoon tea. Do you think you could help me with the guest list? I’d like to be able to invite both congregations and have just one tea. Do you think that would be possible?”

“What a marvelous idea,” said Oblivia, nearly chirping. “Yes, I think it would be quite possible for both groups to meet peaceably.” Oblivia leaned closer to Alpaca, her heavily applied Avon perfume To a Wild Rose causing Alpaca’s eyes to burn and tear up.

“Confidentially, it’s mostly loud-mouthed Tarsal Henley who created all of this kerfuffle. I would certainly be more than happy to help you. I’ll get to work on it this afternoon. You just let me know the date and we’ll send out the invitations together, hand written, of course. Now, don’t you cry, my dear. You’re brother is in better place,” she whispered, totally missing the cause of Alpaca’s tears.

True to her word, Oblivia met with Alpaca the very next day and they worked out a guest list for an afternoon tea to be held at 3:30 a week from Thursday. The ladies who received their sedate invitations were nearly hysterical with anticipation. On the invitation list in addition to Oblivia Young, were Trachea Carmichael, Old Doc Trueblood’s nurse, Sara “Sugar Pants” Peterson, disgruntled housewife, Miss Mayrose Mayhern, retired school teacher (who would never attend), Sadie Stenner, piano teacher and wife of county engineer Frank Stenner, whose late sister, Doris, had been married to Johnny Perkins, Fern Oldhat, owner of the Lovely Lock Beauty Salon and cousin to Harold Freeman, whom Alpaca had already met and quite liked the looks of, Geraldine Nurse, head librarian at the Loone County Public Library, and Celia Matthews, married to James Matthews the brother of Milton Matthews. Alpaca had met Milton when she was in Steele’s Hardware to buy bug spray to get rid of the spiders that had made themselves at home on the front porch of the parsonage. With this guest list, Alpaca was optimistic that this tea would mark an auspicious beginning for her grand scheme. 

None of these ladies had any notion of what society life was like in Saints of the Lake, Minnesota. Or for that matter, if there even was any sort of society life there, bur for some reason they all wanted to impress Miss Alpaca Finn and if there were strings attached to this invitation, the ladies were prepared to be yanked. After what seemed like and interminable amount of time, the much awaited for day was upon them.

The ladies arrived promptly at 3:30 perfumed, powdered, and dressed in their Sunday finery. Those who could afford it bought new frocks and those who could not, tried to breathe new life into their old dresses with new matching sets of costume jewelry purchased at the Woolworth’s Five and Dime, or a giant fabric flower pinned to their chests.

Most of these ladies had been to the parsonage while Reverend Finn lived there and they had seen first hand that housekeeping was not a priority of his. So they were quite curious to see what Alpaca had done to make the place habitable. If she had not done anything (which they doubted), they would be drinking greasy tea and sitting on dusty chairs, but as they entered they saw that all was sparkling. Alpaca had worked miracles with the place, they could even see out of the windows that had been so dirty they kept prying eyes from seeing inside as they casually strolled past the parsonage when the late reverend lived there.

Alpaca ushered them into the dining room where the tea table was set up with candelabra and fresh flowers, all on a newly starched and ironed ecru linen cutwork tablecloth. Alpaca was more of a nibbler than an eater but she tried to be mindful that her guests probably had heartier appetites, so the table was beautifully laid with see-through slices of shaved roast beef made into sandwiches, the requisite watercress and cucumber sandwiches, all cut into geometrically perfect triangles, celery sticks stuffed with creamy peanut butter, and various and sundry pickles and olives. For dessert there was homemade white layer cake with lemon icing and Alpaca made her soon to be famous lavender cookies. The tea was a smooth orange Pekoe. The stunning silver service that she had inherited from Grandmother Finn sat in its rightful place at the head of table reflecting the snapping candle flames. Her china was pure bone-white porcelain with no frivolous flowers cluttering up the swirled pattern at the base of the delicate cups and the edges of the sandwich plates; those were inherited from her Grandmother Chagrin on her mother’s side. She was glad she had refused Brother’s request when he asked to take those things to the parsonage when he moved to Chanceville. She knew he would never entertain and he would be so lazy that when all of his everyday dishes were dirty, he would use the good china for his own meals. She shuddered to think what state they would have ended up in. Broken mostly, she guessed.

When the women were ushered into the dining room they oohed and aahed out loud, ostensibly at the fine table but also at Alpaca who was dressed in a champagne colored dress that provided a pale palette for her obsidian eyes and shining black hair. She wore a matching set of jet earrings and necklace, which caught the candlelight and sparked off her eyes. Her makeup was so expertly applied that they weren’t even sure if she was wearing any; there was just a hint of color on her cheeks and lips. Every lady in that room silently decided that they were long overdue for a makeover; maybe they could even get Alpaca to advise them.

Alpaca asked Oblivia is she would help with the tea service and each guest secretly despised her for receiving that glorious honor. Oh yes, this would be a great topic for gossip at the Lovely Locks tomorrow. The ladies retired to the front parlor where they precariously balanced plates on their knees and nervously made small talk, while trying not to slurp their tea. Alpaca was the epitome of discretion, asking only the right questions to bring them out of their shyness without seeming to pry. She found out many of the things she was interested in knowing, mainly the status of several men she thought The Tea Ladies (that’s how she thought of them now) might have connections to. She did her best to show equal interest in the female relatives of The Tea Ladies so as not to raise suspicion or jealousy among them at this stage of the game.

Before they knew what hit them, Frank and Sadie Stenner had arranged for their brother-in-law, Johnny Perkins, and Alpaca Finn to have dinner at their house. Johnny had gallantly offered to pick Alpaca up and drive her to the Stenner’s. When they arrived, Frank and Sadie had the impression that things weren’t getting off to a good start. Alpaca was tight-lipped all the way through the meal, starting with the salad, moving on to the Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and finishing off with fruit cocktail. Johnny was a different story, he chatted all the way through the meal. Unfortunately, every sentence started with, “Doris always said, or Doris liked”, in spite of the dagger looks that Frank and Sadie were shooting his way. Finally, after what seemed like an excruciatingly long two hours, Alpaca thanked the Stenners and said that after that lovely meal, it was such a nice night, she felt like walking home. Scratch Johnny Perkins off her list.

A few days later Alpaca was at the Lovely Locks Beauty Salon having her bi-weekly shampoo/set. The shop was abuzz shortly after Alpaca arrived, Fern Oldhat popped in with the exciting news that her cousin, Harold Freeman, whom everyone thought was a confirmed bachelor, had just become engaged to a lady he had met over in Liberty at his square dancing class. Harold became the second man to be scratched off Alpaca’s list. Oh, well. He was shorter than she was anyway. Maybe she’d stop by Steele’s Hardware and see if Milton Matthews was still qualified for her list. Better yet, he was definitely taller than she was.

The Arrival of Alpaca Finn

Now the reverend’s death did not signal the end of painful decisions. He had to be buried, but where? Which graveyard? The church board had split evenly when Ned and Tarsal decided to build two new churches on the lot. They held an emergency special session at Mother Mary’s Pool Hall. Ned said he was sure Reverend Finn would want to be buried in the new graveyard because he didn’t have a problem with the Widow Collins being buried with Foo Foo’s ashes. Tarsal said it was only right that the reverend be buried in the old graveyard because Tarsal’s search committee had brought him here five years ago.

“So what, Tarsal?” Everyone here knows he believed animals could be buried with their humans,” said Ned, trying to stay calm without much luck.

“Prove it, Ned,” said Tarsal as he sat back with a smug look on his face. He was prepared to stay there all night if it took that long to settle this. He never really cared much for the reverend after they brought him here and it really didn’t matter all that much to him where he was buried. But he was not about to let Ned Cochran win any argument if he could help it.

“I can’t prove it. But I know who can settle this. I just got word before I came over here that the reverend’s sister, Alpaca Finn, is on her way here from Minnesota. She’ll arrive tomorrow on the noon train. As next of kin she can make the decision. I think it’s time to call this meeting adjourned,” said Ned over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

So Ned and Tarsal were at the station the next day waiting for the noon train to pull in. They weren’t putting their differences aside. Neither one trusted the other to be alone with Miss Finn and not attempt to sway her decision of where to bury her brother. They didn’t know what the reverend’s sister looked like, but if she resembled her rotund brother, she wouldn’t be hard to spot. The trained steamed into the station right on time. There weren’t a lot of passengers getting off the train, but Ned and Tarsal didn’t see anyone who looked much like Reverend Finn.

Someone tapped Ned on the shoulder and when he turned around and saw who it was, he let out a little “oh” before he could stop himself. There stood a tall woman who was as thin as the reverend was corpulent. She began pumping his hand with a death grip saying,  “Ned Cochran, I presume,” before they could even offer their condolences. “I’d recognize that sickly, pale freckled face anywhere. My dearly departed brother mentioned you so often.” Turning to Tarsal, she began pumping his hand. “And you must be Tarsal with that black oily hair and pug nose.”  Tarsal and Ned just looked at each other, flabbergasted. 

“Well, come along now. Don’t dawdle. We’ve got things to do. There are my trunks over there,” she said as she pointed to four large steamer trunks suitable in size for an ocean crossing and summer in Europe. 

The two men looked at each and Tarsal muttered, “Good Lord, it looks like she’s settling in ‘til the end of time.” Ned coughed, trying not to laugh. 

They could tell by looking that there was no way they could lift those trunks, but they gave it a valiant try. Ned felt something start to pop in his back and let go right quickly. He went into the depot and asked Charlie Towne, the station master, if they could borrow his four-wheel cart Charlie said sure and came out to help them load the trunks.“Now be careful how you set them down, gentlemen,” Alpaca instructed them. “I’ve got my good china in there.”

By this time all three men were huffing and puffing.

“Why on earth did you bring your own china?” Ned wheezed.

“I know the ladies of the church will expect me to hold formal teas and Dear Brother mentioned quite frequently how, um, frugal you parishioners are and I wasn’t sure if you would have a proper tea service suitable for my needs.”

Neither man could think of a civil reply so they took off their hats, wiped their foreheads with their handkerchiefs, put their hats back on and thanked Charlie for his help. Then they started pushing that cart up the slight grade to the parsonage with Alpaca fussing at them the whole way.

When they finally arrived at the parsonage, they were dismayed as they surveyed the steep front steps until they remembered that the reverend always entered from the back porch that had a ramp to make it easier for him to get his portly self into the house. After much grunting, groaning, and backsliding, they were able to get the trunks into the kitchen.

They reminded Miss Finn of the church board meeting that evening in Mother Mary’s Pool Hall at 7:00.

“Very well, gentlemen. I’ll take it from here. I’ll put everything away and you can come by to fetch me for the meeting and store the trunks in the garage for me,” Alpaca told them. They agreed to call for her at 6:30 to put the trunks away and that Ned should return the cart to Charlie since it was on his way home. And that was the last time Tarsal and Ned agreed on anything.

Alpaca spent the afternoon cleaning, putting her things away, and tisk tisking at the slovenliness of her late brother. Everything was covered with a not so thin layer of greasy dust from the fuel oil furnace in the basement. On the bathroom sink sat a dish with a bar of soupy soap floating in it. The sink was coated with hair and she had to hold her breath when she scrubbed the toilet. The bathtub wasn’t too dirty; she suspected that was due to the fact that her brother’s large frame wouldn’t easily fit into the deep, rather narrow tub.

When she finished that nasty job of cleaning, she took off her duster, pulled off her bright yellow rubber gloves, items she never traveled without, washed up in the now sparkling bathroom and went into the kitchen to see if the food situation was as hopeless as the rest of the house. Luckily, some caring person had left a roasted chicken, a plate of sliced tomatoes, and a carton of small curd cottage cheese in the mostly clean icebox. This suited Alpaca just fine. Light and healthy, that’s just how she liked to eat. She made herself a cup of tea using a fine Darjeeling loose tea and a favorite porcelain cup and saucer that she had brought with her. Alpaca always used two saucers, one smaller one on top of a slightly larger one. She believed in neatness and not taking a chance of dribbling tea on clean tablecloths.

After she had finished her meal, she washed up the dishes and took the broom outside to make the front porch habitable. Once that task was complete she sat down on the wicker chair that looked the sturdiest, one her brother probably never sat in with its narrow seat. She started thinking about the timing of her brother’s death and how that got her out of Saints of the Lakes before things got ugly. There were few eligible bachelors in her hometown and the ones who were single were substandard in her opinion. Alpaca was pushing forty and was tired of supporting herself and being the village’s old maid.

Chanceville was slightly larger than Saints of the Lakes and she hoped there was more marriage material here. She would have to be clever with how she went about getting a man this time. She knew from experience that it’s not good to get the women of your hometown all riled up against you. They have a tendency to get a little territorial when it comes to their menfolk. Alpaca also knew from experience that she had a certain allure to men.

No sooner than she had that thought, Mr. Perkins came strolling down the sidewalk. He saw Alpaca sitting on the porch, stopped, took off his straw fedora, and bowed low at the waist. “Hello, dear lady. You must be the late reverend’s handsome sister. I’m Johnny Perkins,” he said in a soft Irish brogue.

“Good day to you, Mr. Perkins,” she said.

“I’m so very sorry for your recent loss. A fine woman such as you should never, ever have a hint of sorrow to trouble her fine brow,” said Mr. Perkins as he arranged his face into its most sincere visage. In spite of herself, Alpaca blushed, thinking that Johnny Perkins must have kissed the Blarney Stone before he left Ireland.

Alpaca thanked him just as sincerely as he returned his hat to his head and told her he hoped to see her very soon under happier circumstances. Interesting man she thought to herself and, if she remembered correctly, her brother had told her Mr. Perkins was a widower. Yes, very interesting.

About the time Johnny Perkins was disappearing down the street, along came Harold Freeman whistling songbird calls. When he looked up and saw Miss Finn framed by the white high backed wicker chair on the reverend’s porch, he stopped mid-warble. “And who might you be?” Harold asked in his usual blunt manner.

“I might be Alpaca Finn. And who might you be?” she asked in her likewise blunt manner.

“I might be Harold Freeman. Oh, you’re the late reverend’s sister. I heard you were coming into town, didn’t know it was today. But I guess you didn’t have the luxury of time. Reverend Finn isn’t getting any fresher.” She blinked and tried to be upset with his crudeness, but Alpaca, being her ever-practical self, couldn’t argue with Harold’s logic.

“I’m so sorry. That was rude,” he told her.

“No apology necessary. You are quite right and when I have an unpleasant task to take care of, I like to get it done as quickly as possible. I have some difficult decisions to make in the days ahead,” she said.

“Well, ma’am, if I can be of service at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. I just live on the next block in the yellow house with the big front porch. You’ll see my cat Kissy lounging on the front porch railing,” he told her. 

“That’s kind of you Mr. Freeman. Everyone is being so thoughtful. It makes my burden lighter,” Alpaca responded.

Harold bid her good day and made his way down the sidewalk toward his house.

Alpaca leaned back in her chair and thought about the two gentlemen whose acquaintance she had just made. She was trying to remember if Brother, as she called him, had mentioned Harold Freeman in their conversations, but nothing came to mind. He certainly seemed like a nice man and, hopefully, he’s single. He didn’t mention a wife. Yes, this could all work out just fine, two possible candidates on her first day here. Maybe, for once in his life, Brother had done something useful.

Oh, of course, she would miss him. Yes, she definitely would but these new circumstances following his death might be the ticket to her future. Some people might consider her an old maid, but she had desires and needs like every other sentient being on this good earth. After this ridiculous business of her brother’s burial site was settled, she would see about a job at the local library. Yes, she was ready for a fresh start and this could be it. Thank you, Dear Brother.