The red and white checkered oil cloth lay on the grass, a spread with tasty delights above the bank of Panther Creek. Stellar’s jays and evening grosbeaks kept up a chatter that punctuated the human conversation. Gregory Petrovich stood downriver fishing. His hip waders were greenish brown. Gloria, her stepmother Sheila, and her father Pete, sat around the tablecloth sipping retsina and eating kalamatas, bread, and dolmades. And tzatziki, plenty of garlicy tzatziki.
The blue sky of late afternoon was complemented by billowy clouds drifting across the view down valley toward the Big River. They talked money. Not the money coveted by need, but of the money of surplus that fostered the great civility of charity.
Gloria, as singer-songwriter and front woman for the girl band Maven and the Night Ravens, had made a great deal of it, saving it, investing it, aiding in the creation of the Night Ravens Foundation to shelter it and disperse it in generous giving. She had kept her roots in Warhaven and had practiced humility. Despite her wealth and fame, she remained the practical, frugal small-town girl, her father’s daughter, who cared about her neighbors. This land was an old, neglected farm she had purchased, the cabin now a retreat for her.
Gloria was ever spreading her wings, looking for places of need to offer the wealth, identifying community resources that were worn too thin. She munched on an olive. Finished, she removed the pit with her fingers and tossed it in the grass. Soon she would be leaving for college. Gloria had matriculated at the Bard Conservatory of Music, up the Hudson River. She planned to study jazz and electronic music and would maybe join one of the school’s interdivisional programs, maybe Human Rights.
Pete smiled. He remained amazed at his good fortune. Sheila was a blessing, her calm, her wisdom, her beauty. She loved and respected him, his children, his decisions. Sheila re-taught Pete the power and joy of marital interdependence, of the toil and joy of teamwork. He worked a bit of breadcrust with his tongue off a molar.
“This is the life!” he exclaimed. “You two for company, and a young man out in the river who, with any luck, will provide us a trout dinner this evening. Thank you, Trinity, for blessings bestowed! Amen!”
Between the party an the river were three robins, searching for worms along the rim of the bank, one tugging vigorously in the moist orchard grass, vibrant green in the sunlight. The other two then found paydirt, pecking deftly into the giving earth. Gloria pointed, “Look!” Gregory had hooked a trout and it was now sailing over his head behind him, a big one, maybe two pounds worth of flying white fish meat.
Sheila asked, “Gloria, if you could make Warhaven a better place in some small way, where might you begin?
“Well, as we live in Brigadoon, that’s a good question. I’d like girls and young women to have more confidence, more security. I’d love to bless them with a little of the joy I’ve had from getting out of town to see how others survive on this planet. I’d love not to hear young girls cuss violently, not to wish they were dead — or pregnant with their boyfriend’s baby! This last tour to the Southwest was amazing, to encounter so many girls living in a world full of poverty, yet full of wonder at the land and plants and animals about them.”
Sheila nodded. “What kind of high school or middle school program could you fund that would reach our girls?”
Gloria wondered out loud, “What if it were a summer program, fully funded, maybe up in the Craggies away from folks, and they learned trades and practiced the intelligence those skills both required and fostered?”
Pete looked from Gloria to Sheila. “That’s my girl. Gloria, you never, ever cease to amaze me.”
“I concur, sir!” exclaimed Sheila.
Gloria broke a piece of bread from the baguette. She looked over at Gregory, who was kneeling over the fish, gutting it.
“A couplet,” she said. “My earnest brother casts a rainbow over his shoulder. / How could good fish fortune get any bolder?”
“Well done, daughter! The beginning of your next song.”
Gloria pursed her lips. “I sure am going to miss the Night Ravens!”
Sheila nodded. “You are tasting the bittersweetness of your success, Gloria. Savor it. The girls will always be in your heart, and you in theirs. You must know that.”
Both Sheila and Pete were involved in the management of Maven and the Night Ravens. They too would miss the kith, the kindred warmth they had amassed in fostering the careers of these six young women.
Gloria chewed her bread. “This is all a comfort. Thank you.”
•••
The City Council is a work of fiction, written by Jim Tindall, appearing every other week in Columbia Gorge News.
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