The 174 Payments I Canceled

Tuesday and the Ladies’ Luncheon

The second call came Tuesday, and it did not come from my son.

I was in my kitchen at eleven-thirty, rolling out pie dough for the church supper because I had decided I would not stop living my life, when the phone rang and the little screen said PINE RIDGE COUNTRY CLUB. I nearly did not answer it. Then I thought: this is the one that matters.

“Mrs. Farrow?” said Alan.

Alan had managed the club for twenty years. He had given Brent a free round of golf the day his business folded, as a kindness. He was a man who did not like to give bad news, and I could hear it in his throat.

“Alan. Good morning.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you. I wanted to speak to you directly before this goes any further.” He cleared his throat. “Your standing draft for the Farrow family dues was returned this morning. The club’s treasurer flagged the account. The membership is technically past due as of today, and the policy is that we notify the account holder.”

“That is correct,” I said. “I cancelled it Friday.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A pause. “I’d like to ask you something and you are free to tell me it’s none of my business.”

“Ask.”

“Becky was at the ladies’ fall luncheon at noon today. She is the chairwoman of it. She hosts a table every year. When the server brought the check for the committee, she used the club card on the account, and it was declined.” He lowered his voice. “In front of the whole room, Mrs. Farrow. Forty-some women. And two of them are on the membership committee that is voting next month on whether she can sponsor her own nominee for the board.”

I sat down. Not because I felt sorry, though I’ll admit some small, stubborn, motherly part of me flinched. I sat down because I understood that this was the machinery, and it was working, and it did not need me to touch it.

“What did she do?”

“Ma’am,” said Alan, in the tone of a man picking his words off the floor, “she told the table the card must have been compromised, and then she told them that her mother-in-law had been having some trouble with her memory and mixing up accounts.” He cleared his throat again. “And then the president of the Women’s Auxiliary, who happens to be sitting directly across from her, said, quite clearly, that she had seen you at the grocery store on Saturday doing the crossword in pen.”

I put my hand over my mouth, and what came out was a laugh, a real one, the first one in four days.

“I’m not saying I enjoyed it,” Alan added hastily.

“Of course not.”

“But I thought you should know she is not hearing it quietly. And I wanted to ask whether the dues will be reinstated.”

“They will not,” I said. “The account is closed to the household. If Brent and Becky want the membership, they can pay for it themselves. As of today it’s theirs to keep or lose.”

“Understood.” He took a long breath. “Mrs. Farrow, for what it’s worth, I never believed a word of that memory business. I’ve seen your handwriting. In March you came into my office and signed the renewal in a script I would have framed.”

“Thank you, Alan.”

“Any day you’d like to come out for lunch, it’s on the house.” And I heard him smile, for the first time in the call.