The Blue Bottle Club by Penelope Stokes Page A

Marcella."
    Tish could tell that her mother was beginning a slow burn, but Mother didn't say a word. She simply poured coffee into the silver serving urn and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
    "And make sure you clean up thoroughly. The parlor rug will need sweeping."
    With that, she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her.
    "Can you believe that?" Tish fumed when Alice was gone. "The way she treated you, Mother—how could you just stand there and take it?"
    "Times change," Mother repeated quietly. "And we have to change with them."

    Times had changed, all right.
    At noon on Sunday, the day after the engagement party, Tish and her mother stood in the fellowship hall after church, sipping punch and nibbling on the leftover petits fours Alice Dorn had brought. Everyone was milling around, as usual—chatting and smiling and being friendly.
    Except, Tish suddenly realized, to them. She saw it as if she had been lifted bodily into the rafters and could survey the whole room at a glance. Over there, against the far wall, the women's circle that normally met at their house clustered with their backs to the room, and every now and then one of them would turn and look in Mother's direction. Pastor Archer, who usually made a point of speaking to every single one of his parishioners, steadfastly avoided the corner where she and her mother stood. Twice she saw people point at the two of them and whisper behind their hands.
    Only Adora actually came over and spoke to them—and even then it wasn't the kind of natural interaction born of long friendship. Tish couldn't remember what she had said, only that her voice was high and tense. Defiant, Tish decided finally. As if she were deliberately flaunting their friendship for the benefit of someone looking on.
    She didn't understand it. The Camerons had been members of Downtown Presbyterian for years. Mother was head of the social committee and hosted one of the women's circles in their home. When the church had purchased the Catholic cathedral, Daddy had supported the renovations with generous financial gifts and a good deal of time and effort. These people were, well, family of a sort—the folks they depended on, socialized with. Nearly every person the Camerons had ever called "friend" was in this very room—with the exception of Ellie and her mother, who hadn't been to church in weeks.
    Now it seemed as if they were standing on the outside of a clear glass bubble, able to see in but unable to get past the barrier that separated them from the goings-on inside.
    Tish caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Alice Dorn bearing down on them. The expression on her face, halfway between a smile and a grimace, showed all her teeth and half her gums. Funny how Tish had never noticed what a terrible underbite the woman had.
    "Maris, dear!" Alice fastened a hand on Mother's elbow and steered her farther into the corner.
    "Mrs. Dorn." With an arch of one eyebrow Mother extracted her arm from Alice's grasp.
    "The girls and I have been talking, dear. They're all aware of how hard you've been working and"— her eyes darted to the group across the room— "how difficult it must be for you to keep up. We've decided that you shouldn't bear the burden of heading up the social committee any longer. Roberta Weston is going to take that job over. Now, I'm sure that little house of yours is very sweet," she went on in a rush before Mother had time to interrupt, "but of course you no longer have room to host the women's circle properly." She let out a piercing little giggle. "No, now, don't thank me, dear—we're just trying to be considerate of your busy schedule. Don't worry your little head about it."
    Alice began to move away before Mother could respond. "Oh, by the way," she called over her shoulder, "we'll be changing the day of the circle meeting too, but I don't know just when or where at the moment. I'll let you know, all right? All right, then.