The Singing Trees by Boo Walker
Chapter 10
THE COUNTRY CLUB
A few miles past the quaint downtown of Davenport with its art galleries and seafood restaurants, and another five miles past the pristine grounds and hallowed halls of Weston College, stood the Davenport Country Club.
As Thomas found a spot in a parking lot full of fancy cars, Annalisa looked out over the snow-covered fairways dotted with tall firs and wondered if she might bump into a Kennedy or a Rockefeller here. When they climbed out of the VW, even the bitter cold couldn’t zap her nerves. Couldn’t they have met for a simple lobster roll in town? She worried her red holiday dress might not be fancy enough or her one-inch heels tall enough.
The main building was a white monstrosity with a seemingly never-ending porch lined with rocking chairs that made Annalisa think of words like tradition and exclusivity. She wondered how many deals had been made in those chairs. Upper-crust Boston and Manhattan accents rang in her ears.
“How long have you worked here?” Annalisa asked Thomas as they climbed the steps to the grand entrance, which was flanked by two bronze statues of golfers holding the finish of their swing. As a gift to the Barnes family, she carried a white box with a red ribbon holding a panettone that Nonna had baked.
“I’ve been dragging bags since I was fourteen,” Thomas said. “Maybe thirteen, actually. This is my second home.”
She heard a tremor in his voice and stopped him by grabbing his arm. “I’m the one who is supposed to be anxious here.”
“What?” he said, looking at her like she was crazy. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re the best thing that’s ever walked through these doors. I just hope my parents behave.”
“If they don’t, I won’t hold it against you, okay?” She kissed him. “Not too much, at least.”
Thomas ushered her through the doors to the lobby, and Annalisa’s eyes went straight to the Christmas tree, which might have rivaled Rockefeller Center’s in size, though she’d never been to New York, to be sure. A sparkly gold star rested at the top. Her nerves turned to excitement. She was a sucker for Christmas.
Thomas seemed to know everyone, and they spent the first few minutes after having their coats checked making small talk with other members. Then he guided her into the dining room.
A man in a tux played “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” on a shiny black grand piano. A well-dressed and talkative crowd sucking down fancy cocktails with stirrers poking out of them packed the bar. In the dining area, candles twinkled in the center of each table, which were covered in bleached-white tablecloths. Beautiful garlands with bells and red ornaments hung from the walls. Pots spilling over with poinsettias rested under the windows that overlooked their own private cove. She saw one lone light out there on the water and wondered who would be crazy enough to go out in this cold.
“There she is,” a woman said, appearing from the crowd near the bar. She balanced a martini with two olives in her hand, and Annalisa saw an abundance of Thomas’s features in her. “After all this time. Where has Thomas been hiding you?”
“Hello, Mrs. Barnes, it’s so nice to meet you.” His mother seemed nice enough, a far cry from intimidating. Maybe this wasn’t going to be too bad after all. Annalisa offered the gift. “I brought a panettonefrom my grandmother. It’s an Italian tradition during Christmastime.”
Mrs. Barnes took the box. “Please thank your grandmother for me. That’s very sweet.”
“Not too sweet, though,” Annalisa said. “My nonna doesn’t put a lot of sugar in hers.” She let out a nervous laugh.
Emma stood beside Mrs. Barnes in a long blue dress and said hello. Annalisa offered her best smile. “You look beautiful,” Annalisa said. “I hope you’re still up for coming over soon?” Then Annalisa shielded her mouth from Thomas and said for only Emma’s and Mrs. Barnes’s ears, “And to tell me all of Thomas’s secrets.”
Emma rewarded her with a grin. “That might take a few hours.”
Annalisa winked at her. “Then we’d better get started. How about right after Christmas, before school starts back up?”
“Sounds good.”
Mrs. Barnes smiled at their little tête-à-tête. “I’m so glad you two get along. Thomas isn’t always so lucky with his girlfriends.”
Emma turned to her mother. “That’s because they’re mostly ditzes.”
Bill Barnes was still wiping off a smile from an apparent joke with buddies when he left the bar and thrust out a hand to introduce himself. “Great to meet you. Welcome to the club.”
This is going to be easy,Annalisa thought, as she met his eyes and shook his hand.
He was dressed in nice slacks and a sweater with the logo of their country club. His thinning hair was combed creatively to cover up a bald spot. Thomas had told her his father could be charming, and he was right. Bill wasn’t as good looking as Thomas, but they shared the same confident smile, and he was comfortable making eye contact. Annalisa thanked him for having her, and he said it was his honor.
The early conversation was a breeze, and she and Thomas told the story of meeting each other at the museum and then reconnecting at the football game.
“Oh, I didn’t quite realize you were from Payton Mills,” Mrs. Barnes admitted. “For some reason, I thought you might be attending Weston.”
Annalisa side-eyed Thomas. He hadn’t told them?
“I thought I mentioned it,” Thomas said.
Mr. Barnes cleared his throat in apparent disappointment. “Not to us.”
As the pianist began to tease “White Christmas,” Annalisa pulled at the tablecloth dangling over her lap. “I’m a senior at Payton Mills.”
“Ah.” Elizabeth dabbed her lips with a napkin.
“The good ol’ Mills,” Mr. Barnes said sarcastically.
Saving the conversation from going downhill, Elizabeth—between giant gulps of her martini—told the story of how she had met Bill (to Annalisa it sounded more like a formal arrangement, but she laughed with the rest of them). Then Emma opened up (or, more accurately, poked her head out) and talked about the Stooges, whom she’d been listening to lately.
Annalisa felt wealthy—and slightly guilty, considering what her family might think of her in this moment—as she followed everyone at the table in ordering an appetizer and then a main course. She went for the seafood bisque and the haddock with asparagus.
Just as Annalisa wanted to whisper in Thomas’s ear that this wasn’t so bad, the conversation took a turn for the worse. It was as if they’d dispensed with the pleasantries, and now that food had been ordered, it was time to swipe the charade off the table.
“Annalisa,” Bill said, “into which colleges have you been accepted?”
She heard an agenda in his tone. “Not any, actually. I . . .” She didn’t want to admit that there was no money for college. Her father had amassed severe debt by the time he’d died, so she had no inheritance, and the rest of the family certainly didn’t have the money. That was none of Mr. Barnes’s business, though. “I’m an artist, a painter, so I didn’t think college would be necessary.”
“I see.” Making his own assumptions, he said, “I hear they toss scholarships around like candy to you Payton Mills kids. I’m surprised to hear you wouldn’t take advantage. Surely you have more to learn as far as art goes.”
“I’ll always have more to learn; that’s for sure.” She wondered how the other guests would feel if she sprang across the table and stabbed Bill with the crab fork, or whatever they called that stupid shiny silver fork in the lineup to the left of her plate. How quickly the energy of the table had changed.
“She’s moving to Portland,” Emma said, saving her.
“That’s right,” Annalisa admitted. “I’m finally breaking out of Payton Mills and moving to the city.”
“To do what?” Bill asked. “What does one do without a degree?”
She deflected his jab. “I’m not convinced an artist needs a degree.”
“Oh my,” Mrs. Barnes chimed in. “How brave of you. What kind of things do you paint?”
Annalisa flashed a smile, thankful to talk about what she loved. “I moved to acrylics a while ago but learned with oils from my mother. I’m hoping a move to Portland will help me home in on my voice.”
“She’s very talented,” Thomas said, giving Annalisa a boost.
She gave Thomas a smile of thanks and then continued. “I’m looking forward to city life. Exploring, you know. Being independent.” As if he were listening in on the conversation, the pianist started an extra-lively version of “Jingle Bells.”
“Without a degree,” Bill mused, “but with a brush she goes. That’s what the world needs: more artists.” He followed his words with a subtly mean chortle that doused out the joy of the melody springing from the piano.
Annalisa stiffened, thinking Mr. Barnes was no different from her own father, who’d said similar things. She heard the patrons at the bar laughing at something, which made her even more uncomfortable.
“Oh, Bill,” Mrs. Barnes said. “Leave her alone. I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of finding work.”
He raised defensive hands. “I was just asking.”
“Well, you’re living up to your reputation of being a jackass, Dad,” Thomas said.
“Thomas,” Elizabeth whispered sharply, casting an eye toward the closest table to them, where an older couple sat in silence, probably pretending not to listen in on this escalating fiasco. Then again, Annalisa thought these types of conversations were as abundant as hard dinner rolls in this dining room.
Under the table, Annalisa dug her fingernails into her thigh. “It’s fine. They’re good questions.” She reminded herself that no good would come of going to war with Mr. Barnes.
“Do you intend on marrying and having children?” Mr. Barnes asked. “That’s what Italians do, right? Breed and eat and breed. What aspirations does a girl from the Mills have? You want to be the next . . . what? Michelangelo? He was Italian, right?”
“I’m not sure that we Italians all share the exact aspirations,” Annalisa said with a bit of attitude, “and I’m trying not to make big decisions like that right now. I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been cooped up all my life. I want to get out and fly, to see the things I’ve only read about. Maine seems so small to me sometimes. I want to see other cultures, meet other artists.” She reached for Thomas’s hand, the first time they’d shown any affection in front of Elizabeth and Bill. “But who knows?”
“I see.” Mr. Barnes straightened his collar, as if he was ready to return to the bar.
By the time their first course came, Annalisa was miserable and felt herself sweating under her dress. She’d been burned at the stake by questions designed to belittle her. If Mr. Barnes wasn’t careful, he was about to see the wrath of Annalisa Mancuso, and if it wasn’t for Thomas and her hope for a future with him, she would have already Frisbee’d a plate into his jugular.
Emma was off in space, staring through the Christmas tree into a world far away. Thomas had been doing his best to defend Annalisa, but Mr. Barnes was relentless.
As Annalisa blew at a hot spoonful of bisque, and the nutty aroma of sherry rose into the air, he wiped his mouth. “May I ask about your parents? When did you move in with your grandmother?” She’d mentioned her living situation a few moments earlier.
Oh, here we go,Annalisa thought. If only the rest of her family could see her now. The Mancusos had nothing on the Barneses when it came to interrogations.
Through gritted teeth, Thomas demanded, “Dad, can we give Annalisa a break? This is ridiculous.”
“It’s fine,” Annalisa said, dropping her spoonful of bisque back into the bowl with a ping. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
“That’s exactly right,” Mr. Barnes said. “We’ve worked hard to put Thomas in a position to be successful. It’s too early into his studies to be seriously dating. Your age, you fall in love and think you have it aaalllll figured out.” He carried his “all” so long the soup had probably cooled before he’d moved on to the next word. “Next thing you know you’re walking down the aisle without a damn clue, ruining everything you’ve worked for.” He locked eyes with Annalisa. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She didn’t dare look away.
“I do have to agree with Bill,” Elizabeth said, saving the moment once again. “Especially someone with whom you share so little in common.”
Mr. Barnes continued to eye her as he stirred his drink, and Annalisa was impressed that he’d been able to keep his mouth shut long enough to let his wife finish a thought.
“Yes, Mr. Barnes, I do understand what you’re saying,” Annalisa said, her anger flaring. “I know that I’m not the ideal girl for your son, me being from the Mills and all.” Finally breaking her glare, she glanced at Thomas. “But I do like him a lot.”
“Well, isn’t that nice,” Mr. Barnes said harshly.
Silence stung the air until Emma began to butter a roll, the knife scraping the porcelain ramekin. Annalisa took a long breath and wished herself away. No wonder Emma excelled at disappearing.
Annalisa felt eyes shooting at her like laser beams. She was no stranger to racism and classism, but staring both traits in the face right now made her realize she’d never been this close to them.
“Feel better, Dad?” Thomas said. “Being an asshole really does suit you, doesn’t it?”
“Thomas,” Elizabeth snapped. “Your sister.”
Annalisa looked at Emma, who didn’t seem to realize she’d been mentioned.
“I do feel better, actually,” Bill said to Thomas. Then, “I appreciate your candor, Annalisa. As much as I like it and your strength, your mother and I do not approve of a serious relationship. It’s fine if you want to have a little winter fling, but you two youngsters need to make sure it goes no further.”
“Are you kidding me?” Thomas asked, slapping his napkin down and pushing away from the table. He looked at his mother. “Are you really going to let him talk like this? I can’t think of two people more unqualified to offer relationship advice.”
Mrs. Barnes pointed to his chair with a barely audible “Sit down.” She darted her gaze around the room, clearly terrified that they’d made a scene.
“Don’t you talk to us that way,” Mr. Barnes said.
Thomas put his hand on Annalisa’s shoulder and urged her to stand and join him. “Talk to you this way?” he said, the volume of his voice escalating with every word. “Do you hear yourself? You think you can decide who I want to be with? Oh, how wrong you are.”
Mr. Barnes sat back in disgust, as if the rest of them at the table had lost their minds. “A strong Davenport family breeds well. Trust me; you two will end up destroying each other. I’ve seen it all my life. Sure, a crush is fine, but once you get to know each other, you’ll see you have nothing in common. I’m sorry to burst your little daydreaming bubbles.” He pounded the rest of his drink.
Annalisa wondered if maybe her grandmother was right, after all. Choosing not to engage further with Bill Barnes, she looked at Thomas’s mother, who stared at her soup like she was trying to part it as Moses had the Red Sea. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Barnes.”
Moving on to Emma, Annalisa said, “See you soon.”
Emma shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
Annalisa managed a wink.
Standing, she followed Thomas across the dining room. By now, people had stopped what they were doing and watched the couple take their leave.
Thomas and Annalisa grabbed their coats in silence and spoke only once they were out in the cold under the stars. He turned and took her hand as he marched to the car. Shaking his head in disgust, he said, “I can’t believe him.”
Annalisa squeezed his hand. “They don’t change how I feel about you. It’s okay.”
“No it’s not!” he spat, turning away from her. “Is it really possible to hate your own father? Because that’s exactly how I feel. And my mother just lets it all go down. She’s so weak. No wonder Emma is losing her mind.”
As they drove by the long powdery fairways and the country club faded in the side mirror, Annalisa worried that they both might be into more than they could handle, and it was a long and quiet drive back to the Mills.
When they arrived home, Thomas escorted her in. Nonna sat in the recliner in the living room, watching the news. Nonna’s hearing wasn’t the best, so she’d cranked the volume, something about Fred Hampton.
“Hi, Mrs. Mancuso,” Thomas said over the broadcast, stepping into the living room. “I just wanted to come in and say hello.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Nonna said. A small glass of brandy rested on the table next to her.
As Annalisa went to lower the volume, she heard the newscaster talk about the aftermath of Hampton’s death in Chicago a few days earlier. The Black Panther Party leader’s controversial death had ignited even more uproar from around the country, the Panthers claiming the FBI had raided Hampton’s home and shot him in cold blood as he lay in his bed asleep.
When she turned back to listen to Thomas attempt to charm Nonna, Annalisa was reminded how badly she wanted to leave small-town Maine and all the narrow-mindedness, as had been exquisitely illustrated by Mr. Barnes earlier. How could she keep hiding in this bubble? She wanted to know the truth about what was happening in the world, and the only way to do that was to get out in it.
“My father was a jerk to your granddaughter tonight,” Thomas told her. “Quite frankly, I’m embarrassed.”
Nonna’s shoulders fell. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I keep telling Annalisa how lucky she is to have family like you.” He smiled with closed lips. “Anyway, you guys have a good night. I need to make sure my sister’s okay.”
Annalisa followed him out and took his hand on the porch. “It’s okay,” she assured him, noticing the soft sound of the wind chimes.
He turned to face her, his breath fogging up. “I just wish things were different.”
“Hey,” she said, mustering the courage to take a stance, “nothing your father says affects us. I’m certainly not judging you because of your family.”
“I appreciate that.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? At least we got it over with.”
After he’d left, she sat on the couch next to Nonna. The television showed people paying their respects to Fred Hampton as they walked by his open casket in a packed church.
“His dad is a complete jerk,” Annalisa said. “And please don’t go into an I-told-you-so rant. I don’t need to hear it.”
“I didn’t say a word,” Nonna replied, crossing her ankles.
Annalisa told her about the dinner and how they’d stormed out.
Nonna looked her way. “I’m not saying I told you so, Annalisa. It’s just the way it is. We, meaning our family, our people, have different values from others. That’s why I want you to find someone more similar. Maybe someone from the church.”
Annalisa rolled her eyes and pointed to the television. “I can’t hide in Payton Mills while all this is going on.”
Nonna raised her voice. “So you want to be in the thick of it? What good will that do? You might get yourself killed.”
Annalisa imagined Nonna had said the same thing to her father when he was her age. “I might find the truth. Or at least hear some other opinions on life.” She was still reeling from watching the draft, thinking that it shouldn’t be right that men should have to go to fight a war with which they disagreed. And if you happened to disagree in some way, like Fred Hampton, the government would kill you.
“It’s a terrible time,” Nonna admitted, crossing her arms. “All I can say is that I pity your children, who will have to grow up in this mess.”
Annalisa sat up, hearing the plastic crackle underneath her. “My children? Let’s hope you’re not counting on me for children.” She was still trying to work her way through the first relationship of her life.
“I want you to be happy,” Nonna said. “That’s all.”
“Then you have to let me be me. I’m not like the other girls at our church or at school. I want different things.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Nonna unfolded her arms. “Why do you think I give you so much slack?”
“If that’s true, then support me. Quit jabbing me about wanting to go to Portland. And let me enjoy dating a guy for the first time in my life, without you shaking your head.” Annalisa pointed at the door. “He’s a nice guy.”
Nonna followed her finger. “It appears that way.”
“Thomas is different,” Annalisa insisted, wanting so badly to believe it. “He’s not like his father. Or mine,” she added.
Nonna looked over with wise eyes. “I hope not.”