Invitation

Short Fiction by Karen Pierce Gonzalez

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On his own Harry would have not answered the phone in the first place. It was Margaret’s insistence they act neighborly that made him grab the receiver and say hello when the Ferns called.

“Light refreshments and a short game of cards, Rummy or Gin, your choice,” Ervine had said.

“Well, uh,” Harry stuttered; he still did take calls this late at night. Back home, people didn’t call after 7:30 at night unless it was an emergency.

“Say there, Harry, you still on the line?” Ervine’s words broke right through Harry’s frequent recall of the farm from the rearview mirror of his car.

“Let me check with the boss. I’ll have her call you back,” Harry said. Socializing and the like was her job.

“Sure,” Ervine was of the same generation; wives ran the household and all family activities.

Harry’s wife Margaret hovered nearby. “What do they want?” She mouthed the words.

When Harry turned his back to ignore her animated gestures, she quickly went to the kitchen window. From there she could part of the Ferns’ front porch. Maybe, just maybe, she would see Ervine outside, talking on one of those new phones like most of their new neighbors did.