Chapter 6 - The Golden Carousel Table
September 12th broke across Brumley with crisp autumn air and skies the color of spun glass. The leaves along the park perimeter were just turning to burnt orange and gold, drifting down onto the weathered gravel pathways of Gentry Park.
The Carousel Pavilion was fully dressed by noon. Shauna had outdone herself with my money: three long banquet tables draped in cream linens, gold balloons spelling out "70 YEARS OF CASSIA," and a four-tiered vanilla cake with spun-sugar calla lilies displayed near the stage. A three-piece acoustic jazz band was tuning their instruments near the entrance, and the smell of smoky pulled pork and baked beans drifted across the lawn from the caterer’s van.
Over sixty people had gathered—neighbors from town, members of Orin’s old high school band booster club, local contractors, and the entire Drury clan.
At the center of the pavilion sat the historic wooden carousel, its carved horses frozen mid-stride, their glass eyes gleaming beneath the amber track lighting. High on the central brass arm, the ring dispenser gleamed, polished for the occasion.
Shauna was glowing in an emerald-green silk blouse, greeting guests with champagne flutes, playing the role of the devoted, selfless daughter who had moved heaven and earth to honor her aging mother. Jarrett stood by the bar, wearing a custom sport coat over his boots, clinking beers with the local zoning board commissioner and talking loudly about his upcoming snow contracts.
And at the front-row VIP table sat Dorene, resplendent in floral chiffon, holding court with three ladies from her church circle.
"Oh, it's the least Shauna could do," Dorene was saying loudly as I walked up the pavilion stairs. "Of course, Cassia paid for the extras—you know how she is, loves to flash that checkbook when people are watching. But the heart? The heart of this party is all Drury."
I stopped at the edge of the pavilion, smoothing down the front of my tailored navy wool blazer. In my right hand, I carried a slim, elegant black leather briefcase. Beside me, Arthur Vance walked in silence, looking like a retired federal judge arriving for an afternoon tea.
"Mom!" Shauna squealed, rushing toward me with open arms, wrapping me in a perfume cloud of lavender and champagne. "You look amazing! Happy seventieth birthday! Look at this place—didn't we do an incredible job?"
"It’s breathtaking, Shauna," I said softly, stepping out of her embrace and meeting her eyes. "Every single dollar was spent with purpose."
She laughed, that quick, dismissive chuckle. "Oh, stop worrying about the money for once in your life. Today is about celebrating you!"
She led me to the head table, right between Dorene and Jarrett. Easton was already sitting there, wearing a blue button-down shirt that was slightly too big for him, his hair neatly combed. Beside him, twelve-year-old Olive had her sketchbook open, coloring in another horse with her gold glitter pen.
"Grandma!" Easton beamed, standing up to give me a bear hug. "Look at the carousel! Mom said after dinner we all get private tokens to ride as long as we want!"
"That sounds wonderful, Easton," I murmured, kissing his forehead.
May you like
Across the table, Dorene offered me a thin, tight smile over her champagne glass. "Seventy, Cassia. My, my. Time catches up with all of us, doesn't it? Good thing you’ve got Jarrett and Shauna to steer the ship now. You just sit back and enjoy the ride."
"You're right, Dorene," I said, setting my black briefcase flat on the linen tablecloth between our plates. "Time has a very funny way of balancing the books."
