–Moussaka–

Evelynna DeLancy sat at her oak dining table with a glass of iced tea. A wedding gift from Aunt Roberta, almost overtook their Chicago apartment, but she’d never part with it. It suited their new home fine. Another knock at the side door brought Evelynna out of her thoughts. 

“Hello, hope I’m not interrupting?” A woman with dark curly hair, a green dress, and olive skin stood outside clutching a rectangular glass dish covered with a tea towel. 

“Not at all. I’m Evelynna.”

“Oh,” gasped the woman, “I’m M—Isadora. Vance,” she stammered. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Isadora. What do you have there?” Evelynna cocked an eyebrow and peered down at the towel-covered dish. It smelled like beef and sweet spice, an odd blend that was somehow alluring.  

“Oh this? It’s mousakka, my grandmother’s recipe. I noticed some of the other ladies brought over some gelatin already. I live across the street, by the way.”

Evelynna grasped both sides of the dish, her fingers brushing briefly against Isadora’s and lingering a moment. “It smells divine. Thank you Isadora,” she said, looking deeply into the other woman’s brown eyes. 

“It’s nothing, really. I made too much again,” the woman shrugged. “I keep forgetting Yaya’s recipe is enough to feed eight children.” She gave a breathy laugh before she continued. “I just have two. Tina and Ruth. Do you have any children?”

“Tommy,” Evelynna responded.

“Is Tommy the boy I saw on the rolling board earlier?”

“Yes, he calls it his sidewalk surfboard,” Evelynna explained, waiting to gauge Isadora’s reaction. 

“Interesting! I’ve never seen anything like that,” Isadora remarked. “Where do you get one?”

“He got it from California Co. in Chicago. Tommy’s friends all have one.” 

“Oh, you’re from Chicago!” Isadora gasped. “I visited a few times, it’s very different to Milford.” 

“It certainly is. Would you like to come in?” Evelynna offered, stepping aside. “I don’t have much in my pantry, but I made ice tea and I have a plethora of gelatin.” 

“I’m expecting the girls home soon, but I have a few minutes. Tea sounds lovely.” 

“Can I interest you in a slice of Jell-O?” 

“Thank you, no. I’ve probably had enough gelatin for a lifetime.” Isadora blurted. Both women laughed. Evelynna set the warm moussaka dish next to the fridge and poured another glass of iced tea for Isadora.

“Where does a gal go to get groceries in Milford?” Evelynna asked casually.

“Most drive to the Weston supermarket. I like Giovanni’s on Oak street. Better spices, better lamb. The baker on Second gives free biscotti to children who ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” 

“Elinor’s Market on Main has fresher produce than the supermarket. I was just there this morning actually. For the eggplant and lemons. I’m baking lemon squares for the Ladies’ Guild tonight.” 

“Oh? That sounds exquisite,” Evelynna commented as she refilled her glass of iced tea and pulled out a chair next to Isadora.

She’s not like the rest, Evelynna thought. Good.

“You’re welcome to come along, of course,” Isadora added. “Any woman living in the neighborhood can join. Meeting starts at seven. No pressure to bring anything, I’m sure there will be plenty of gelatin to go around.” Isadora snorted. Evelynna’s eyes twinkled. 

“I might check it out. Thank you.” The women fell quiet for a moment. Isadora looked around the dining room. Her eyes caught on a large canvas hanging behind the table—an impressionistic city skyline. 

“That’s beautiful, did you paint it?”

“A good friend of mine did,” Evelynna hummed, looking up at the painting too and smiling.

“I watched you paint earlier. Hope you don’t mind. My kitchen window faces your lawn and I couldn’t help but notice you out there. So you’re an artist too?”

“Something like that,” Evelynna quipped. “Mrs. Embleton certainly did not seem too impressed with it.” Evelynna relaxed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

“Well,” Isadora scoffed, set down her sweaty glass, and leaned in closer, as if Mrs. Embleton could hear them through the brick walls of the house that very moment. “Kathy thinks she’s the bee’s knees just because her husband is the president of the Civics Club,” Isadora paused, rolling her eyes. “Thinks that gives her the right to patrol the neighborhood policing everyone,” both women chuckled, then Isadora asked: “What does your husband do for work?” 

Evelynna smirked behind her glass. 

–Neighborhood Watch-

“Honey, I’m home!” Police Chief Tom DeLancy announced from the foyer. He tossed his peaked hat on the top peg of the coat rack, shrugged off his jacket, and scanned the interior of his new house. Evelynna and Tommy had spent much of the day unpacking their belongings. Original artworks and family photographs adorned the walls. One painting caught Tom’s eye: a nearly two foot abstract painting of what appeared to be a brick red rectangle with colorful blobs of paint thrown at it. 

“The house looks great honey. And you painted something new?” Tom stepped closer. 

“The paint is still wet,” the artist warned. “It’s our new house—attacked with gelatin.” Tom laughed. 

“And Tommy went out sidewalk surfing? One of our new neighbors noticed,” Tom reported. 

“Oh really, which one?”

“A Mrs. Prudence Tibbit, of 28 Mason. Have you met her yet?” Tom inquired, already walking toward the dining room.

“No, I haven’t. Is she in that purple house across the way?” Evelynna adjusted the belt on her teal dress. 

“That’s the place. Called because she was concerned about a young boy out of school on a rolling board in the street.” Evelynna sighed. “I told her I had my best officer already on it,” Tom winked. “So where is Tommy?” Evelynna chuckled. 

“Listening to that new ‘Shake, Rattle and Roll’ record in his room. Mrs. Embleton spoke to him already.” 

“Of course she did. You know, that Rock music of his is starting to grow on me. What’s for dinner?” Tom asked, changing the subject. 

“Moussaka,” Evelynna announced. “One of the neighbors brought it over. And there’s a chicken gelatin in the fridge, if you’re feeling adventurous,” she grinned. “Tommy and I already ate. I want to make an appearance at the Ladies’ Guild tonight.” 

“Oh, that’s alright,” Tom nodded in agreement. 

“How was your first day on the job?” Evelynna joined her husband at the table. 

“Just swell honey. I think I’m really going to like these boys, they work hard.” Tom bent over to unlace his patent leather shoes.

“That’s great,” Evelynna smiled. She bent into the fridge, reaching toward the back of the shelf. “I’m going to bring that pineapple to the meeting,” She shouted into the fridge, “Before it spoils. We’ll never eat it.” 

“Are you sure about that honey?” Tom asked, eyebrows raised, eyes on his wife’s derrière. Evelynna turned and smirked. 

“Very. I aim to make a splash,” she said calmly, placing her red pillbox hat in the middle of her bombshell curls like a crown and cradling the pineapple in the crook of her arm. 

“A citrus splash,” Tom quipped with a chuckle. “Have a good time honey.” Tom got up and poked at a pea in the new gelatin, watched it jiggle, then began to spoon moussaka onto a plate.

“Clean up after yourself when you’re done eating, Pet.” 

“Of course I will, Mistress Eve.” 

-The Ladies’ Guild- 

Evelynna’s heels clicked on the sidewalk, she hummed “Shake, Rattle and Roll”, and the pineapple was still cradled on her hip. Mrs. Embleton was stationed at the front door of the church in a wool skirt and her signature molar-revealing grin. She clutched a clipboard to her bosom while her short yellow hair bounced in neat rows of fresh curls and her blue eyes zeroed in on the woman in teal. Her smile faltered for a split-second. 

“Mrs. Thomas,” she gasped, “what a nice surprise. Welcome.” 

“Hello Mrs. Embleton. Mrs. Vance invited me earlier today. I’d have prepared something more formal, if I’d have known sooner,” Evelynna held out the pineapple in her gloved hands like a beacon. “Brought this from Chicago. Perfectly ripe. Thought the ladies might enjoy.” Mrs. Embleton swallowed hard and tightened her grip on the clipboard. 

“My,” she clicked her tongue, “that’s… thoughtful. Exotic, isn’t it? Sure to start a conversation,” she clipped, adjusting her cat eye spectacles. “I’d have invited you myself, of course, but I wanted to give you folks space to settle in. So glad you were able to make it.” Mrs. Embleton flashed another molar smile and fiercely scratched out a line Evelynna couldn’t see on her trembling clipboard. “Go on in and make yourself comfortable, dear. The refreshments are on the counter near the kitchen.” 

Evelynna nestled the pineapple between deviled eggs and a wiggly orange cottage cheese gelatin. Sugar dusted lemon squares slid in next to the eggs. 

“Evelynna, you made it,” Isadora chirped. She leaned in, then hesitated. Evelynna smiled, noticing the shift, and gently pulled Isadora in by one arm to kiss her cheek. Isadora returned the gesture and blushed. 

“I haven’t been greeted like this since my last trip to Thessaloniki,” she confessed, low enough only Evelynna could hear. Evelynna winked. 

Mrs. Embleton moved to the head of the big table in the fellowship hall. Clipboard poised, she lifted her chin, awaiting the pause in the room to open. Pockets of women were chatting and snacking on desserts.

“My soul, is that a pineapple you’ve got there?” An older woman with deep wrinkles in her light skin and a brown wool pencil skirt and jacket asked. 

“Why yes it is, I brought it from Chicago. We just moved here. I’m Evelynna.” 

“Mrs. White, pleasure to meet you, I’ve never learned how to cut one of those in all my 74 years,” Mrs. White said, rubbing the green leaves between thumb and finger. Mrs. Embleton cleared her throat. 

“I can show you how, if you’d like,” Evelynna offered. “I’ll just need a board and knife.” 

“There’s one right here,” Mrs. White offered, pulling a large chef’s knife from the block on the serving counter. 

“Wonderful, thanks,” Evelynna grinned, sliding a cutting board out from under the knife block. “What you want to do,” she started her demonstration for Mrs. White and Isadora, “sniff the bottom, if it smells sweet, it’s good. Give these leaves a little tug. If they slide out, it’s ready!” A few more ladies paused in their conversations to watch Evelynna flip the pineapple on its side and expertly slice the top and bottom off clean. 

“Then slice these eyes off down the sides. Careful not to lose too much of the fruit,” Evelynna continued. She was aware that more women were beginning to take notice and circle around. “You’ll want to go all the way around and then wedge it like this,” she demonstrated. 

“Ladies, if we may begin,” Mrs. Embleton’s words fell flat. 

“Does it have a core, like an apple?” Inquired a brunette slightly older than Evelynna. She wore a tan pleated skirt and floral blouse.  

“It does have a tough core,” Evelynna confirmed. “Cut that part out, then you can use it for water infusions later, if you’d like.” A few women turned their heads, whispering to the others. Evelynna’s knife sliced through the fruit and the tension in the room. Two dozen women watched with quiet curiosity. 

A woman with a mousy nose asked whether Evelynna preferred pineapple fresh or tinned. 

“Fresh, without a doubt,” she responded eloquently. “Who wants to try a slice?” Several hands politely raised. 

“Ladies,” Mrs. Embleton said again, volume slightly more elevated, “please. If I may get us started.” Evelynna left the cutting board with the sliced pineapple in front of the deviled eggs and disappeared into the kitchen to discard the trimmings. The group of women closed in on the board. Mrs. White moved it from the counter to the middle of the table where Mrs. Embleton stood. Several women were happily slurping bites of juicy citrus fruit as they sat onto a folding chair at the table. 

Mrs. Embleton moved through her agenda points, with precision, offering suggestions for flower gardens, reminding everyone about the church potluck and cautioning against setting trash bins out too early before the pick up because Mrs. Tibbit has reported a raccoon sighting. 

“Lastly,” Mrs. Embleton flipped the page on her clipboard, “Milford has a new head of police, Chief DeLancy.” A few ladies interrupted with claps of approval, as if the man was present. Evelynna tilted her head expectantly, but stayed quiet.

“On behalf of the Ladies’ Guild, I’m putting together a welcome basket for Chief DeLancy and his family to bring to the station on Monday. If you would, please bring a canned good or card with you to church for me to add to our basket and let’s welcome the new chief into our community.” More ladies clapped. “Thank you,” Mrs. Embleton sat down and raised a cocktail fork to a yet untouched deviled egg in front of her. 

All the ladies around the table resumed chatting amongst themselves. Mrs. Embleton’s fork twitched whenever she heard whispers about “pineapple”.