A Paper Plate at My Own Table novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: Declined
Meredith cancels Norma's card and walks into the club luncheon as it declines in front of twelve women; Norma hisses that the house will be lost, and asks "Is it, dear?" when Meredith says it is hers.
Joyce was waiting in my office at eight on Monday with a leather folio and no small talk.
"Four things with the Ellery name on them," she said. "A credit card, a car lease, a sponsorship and a salary."
She laid them out on my desk in a row.
"The card is Norma's. It's an authorized-user card on your account, and she spent $9,400 on it last month."
"What was it for?"
"A spa, a club membership renewal, and a pair of boots."
I picked up a pen.
"Cancel the card," I said.
Joyce held her phone to her ear and gave the instructions to the bank.
"Done at 9:02," she said. "She'll find out wherever she tries to use it next."
"Where will that be?"
Joyce looked at her calendar and almost smiled.
"Mondays at noon, the Ashby Ford Country Club. The ladies' luncheon."
At 12:20 I walked into the club dining room in my gray work suit.
Twelve women sat at a long table by the window, under chandeliers.
Norma sat at the head in her pale blue cardigan with her pearl studs on.
She was laughing at something a woman in a green scarf had said.
A waiter stood at her elbow holding a leather folder and a card machine.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ellery," he said, low. "It says declined."
"Run it again."
He ran it again.
"Declined," he said.
Norma's laugh stopped.
"There's been an error. That card has never been declined in its life."
"Six hundred forty dollars, ma'am," the waiter said, and the whole table heard him.
The woman in the green scarf looked at her salad.
Another woman studied the tablecloth.
Norma opened her purse and dug through it.
Her cash was three dollars and a roll of mints.
"Dean will fix this by tonight," she said to the table, too bright. "It's a silly bank thing."
I walked up behind her chair.
"It isn't a bank thing, Norma."
She went still without turning around.
"It's a me thing," I said. "I cancelled it at two minutes past nine."
Every head at the table turned.
Norma stood up so fast her chair scraped.
"You have no right to do this in front of my friends."
"You handed me a paper plate in front of yours."
"That was a joke."
"Then so is this," I said. "Kristen can film it. I'll wait."
The woman in the green scarf made a small sound that was half a cough.
Nobody was looking at Norma with the old admiration now.
They were looking at her purse, and at the three dollars in it.
One woman quietly slid her own napkin over her unpaid check.
Norma lowered her voice to a hiss.
"Whose money do you think this is?"
"Mine," I said. "Every dollar. Ask me how much of it you ever earned."
"Dean is my son. I raised him. He will end you for this."
"He can try. He'll need a salary."
That was a mistake, and I knew it as it left my mouth.
Her eyes sharpened.
"What does that mean, a salary?"
"Eat your lunch, Norma."
I took the leather folder out of the waiter's hand and handed him my own card.
"Mrs. Ellery's lunch is on me," I said. "And so is the table's."
Twelve women watched me do it.
Norma's face went white, then pink, then a flat, careful calm.
"You think this makes you the winner."
"I think it makes lunch free."
She stepped in until her pearls nearly touched my collar.
"You'll lose that house, Meredith," she said softly.
"It's my house," I said. "I bought it."
Norma smiled.
It was the first real smile she had given me in seven years.
"Is it, dear?" she said.
Then she picked up her purse, said goodbye to her friends, and walked out of the dining room with her head up and her three dollars in her fist.
My phone buzzed before the doors had closed behind her.
*Mom is crying in the parking lot. What did you DO?* Dean had written.
I typed: *Ask her about the plate.*
He answered with three angry faces and nothing else.
The woman in the green scarf leaned toward me.
"Honey," she whispered, "you should have done that years ago."
I stood there with my pulse hammering.
Is it, dear?
My phone buzzed in my hand.
It was Joyce.
*Dealer called back. The car lease can be cut tomorrow morning, but the repo crew says the best chance to catch it is the church parking lot. There's an Advent sale tomorrow and Norma never misses it.*
I read the line again, and then I read Norma's words again.
*Is it, dear?*
I typed back one line.
*Do it at the sale.*
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