Note: I wanted to write a light, funny holiday story with none of the
melodramas and intrigues of the past year. So I am jumping back in the WENN
timeline a bit. This story takes place in November 1940. It is set between
Don't Act Like That and Christmas in the Airwaves. Jeff and Hilary are still
together and in love, Scott is still in pure con-artist mode, Maple is still
the new girl, and Victor is still dead.

Disclamer: Remember WENN and the characters therein belong to Rupert Holmes,
Howard Meltzer Productions, AMC and a lot of other people who are a lot
smarter and more talented than I could ever hope to be. This particular story
is entirely my fault.
The poem To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time was written by Robert Herrick in
1648. It is quoted here in its entirety.

A Tale of Thanksgiving

by Dana Sherman

Monday, Nov. 25, 1940

"Telegram for you, Hilary", Gertie caught the leading lady of WENN on her way
in the door after lunch. "Just arrived a few minutes ago".
Hilary nodded as she took the folded piece of paper from the receptionist and
quickly opened it. Telegrams were not sent for the fun of it. They always
contained news, usually bad news.
"Oh damn" she muttered as she read the message. This news wasn't what she
needed. Pretty much ruined her holiday.
"A problem, Hilary?" Gertie asked. She knew it wasn't likely to be anything
serious. Probably a minor inconvenience. Hilary got so upset over minor
affronts and inconveniences that Gertie had often wondered how she would
handle it if there were ever something serious to get upset about.
Hilary glanced up from the telegram toward the red haired receptionist.
"Nothing Gertie", she muttered. "Just a freak blizzard in Maine".

Hilary swept into the Green Room, agitated and highly annoyed. Jeff looked
up from the theatre magazine he was reading.
"Jeffrey, a freak blizzard has hit the whole state of Maine. The roads are
all closed."
"Oh Lord" Jeff said sympathetically. "There goes Thanksgiving with your
parents. They are OK aren't they?"
"Yes, listen to this telegram. 'Dear Hilary, STOP. Dreadful blizzard, STOP.
Roads closed, STOP. Maybe next year, STOP"
"It could be all right by Wednesday, don't you think?"
"Not in Maine, darling." Hilary answered. "A blizzard there means snow on the
ground for weeks. Damn, now what are we supposed to do? There's no way they
will be able to get down here now. And look what it does to our freezer. A
huge turkey and no family to cook it for."
Hilary had invited her parents for Thanksgiving before, but they had never
been able to come. Now
it looked like they were finally going to. Until this happened. A November
blizzard in Maine. Two feet of snow already on the ground and no way of
getting out. And everything for Thanksgiving dinner had already been bought.
"Well, I guess there's just nothing else for it then, Hilary", Jeff said
grinning. "We'll just
have to invite the station staff"
"Bite your tongue" she answered.

Wednesday, Nov. 27, 1940

"Betty dear, on your way over to our house, could you pick up an apple and a
pumpkin pie at the bakery. They will be open until noon tomorrow."
"Store-bought pies! Oh Hilary, you couldn't", Betty was so clearly horrified
that Hilary had a sudden mental flash of her writing a horror radio script
with a giant store-bought pie as the villain.
"Betty, some of us are not from small towns in Indiana where people do
charming, down-home things like bake apple pies. I have never baked a pie in
my life and I have no intention of starting tomorrow morning."
Betty nodded to Hilary, "Sorry Hilary, just my Midwestern upbringing getting
the better of me" she said coyly. Don't worry, I assure you, I'll bring the
pies to your house by tomorrow noon."
Some of us, however, are from small towns in Indiana and we are going to save
your Thanksgiving dessert, Betty thought to herself, planning to call her
mother that very night to ask her for the pie recipes that had always won the
blue ribbons at every church fair in Elkhart since Betty was a baby. If I
can turn out several dozen radio scripts every week, surely I can bake two
pies before noon on Thursday morning.

Hilary was pleased with how this was all turning out. Well, not pleased
exactly. A nice lovely Thanksgiving with her family would have pleased her
more, but that was not to be. The few social friends Jeff and Hilary still
had time to have all had their own plans with their own families, so
eventually Hilary had admitted defeat and taken Jeff's suggestion, inviting
any and all at the station with no way to get home to their families to come
to her house for the holiday. Her invitations had been graciously received
and Hilary was beginning to consider that this might be a rather enjoyable
experience after all. As long as she didn't have to cook too much. How
difficult could it be anyway? She had been consulting magazines for
Thanksgiving ideas ever since Halloween. It didn't seem difficult at all.

"So, thanks for the invite, Hilary. I sure will be there, seeing as my
chances of getting to Brooklyn and back in one day seems pretty slim.
Everyone coming to the party?"
"Nearly everyone Maple", Hilary answered her. She knew she would never be
friends with Maple. Too different from her, too brash and common, but now
that she was certain that at the very least, Maple was not after Jeff, the two
women could exchange pleasantries without difficulty. "Eugenia will be
visiting her sister's family in Altoona but promises to drop by on her way
back for dessert, and C.J. will be at his parents. Other than that, we all
will be there."
"You actually invited Scott?", Maple grinned. The hostility between Hilary
and Scott was hardly a secret around the station.
"Well, he is the station manager", Hilary shrugged, "and it doesn't hurt to
have a higher-up on your side sometimes." She lowered her voice
confidentially. "Besides, Betty has promised me to keep him in line. She
seems to have some strange influence over him. I wonder if something is
'going on' between them. Although I give Betty credit for better taste."
"Hey, don't write off Scott Sherwood so fast", Maple laughed. "If he decides
its Betty Roberts he wants, I give him six months tops before he gets her. Six
weeks if he is really determined. But I don't think he wants her. She's the
kind of girl who can tie a man down, and ties are the last thing he ever
wanted."
"Just how well do you know Scott Sherwood?" Hilary asked her.
"Well enough to know that he's not the type to fall for the perky small town
girl type. At least I don't think he is. I doubt he's ever met one before".

Hey, Victor Comstock was right, Scott thought, as Betty exited his office,
this girl is really something. Brightest girl he'd ever seen, and really
sweet too. And pretty? Just about the prettiest girl he'd ever seen that
wasn't wearing a Follies costume or a bathing suit. A little too conservative
about new ideas of course. What exactly was wrong with his idea of a dance
exhibition on the radio, Scott wasn't entirely sure. But she had something
there. If he could talk her out of some of that strict Indiana morality, she
could go far. She would have made a good scam partner, he thought suddenly.
Smart enough to con anyone, and pretty enough that the marks wouldn't mind
being conned. A shame all those church picnics and small town values had
ruined her.
He had accepted Hilary's invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. She was obviously
none too thrilled at the idea of inviting him but he had decided to attend and
be on his best behavior. He and Hilary had gotten off on the wrong foot. He
had to admit that. Even though it was mostly her fault. She was a spoiled
little diva who thought the station and the world revolved around her. But
still, Jeff loved her, and she did have her good points. She was a good
actress, for one thing. And for another, she added another very pretty
feminine face to the studio. Between Betty, Maple and Hilary, this was the
best job he'd ever had in his life.

THURSDAY, NOV. 28, 1940

Betty stood in the kitchenette wishing she had telephone. She wanted to call
everyone she knew and boast. Her dress, apron and hair were covered with
flour, her thumb had a cut where the knife had slipped when she was peeling
the apples, and she had dropped the rolling pin on her foot, not once, but
twice. But after all was said and done, two pies sat in the oven cooking away
happily.
Her mother had won the prizes every year for a good reason. The pie recipes
were some of the best she had ever tasted. Of course her mother had a large
kitchen with plenty of counter space to work with. Betty had to use the tiny
kitchenette in her apartment at the Barbicon hotel. She rolled out the pie
crusts on the wooden table and long before she had finished the tiny sink was
filled with dishes. But Hilary's Thanksgiving dinner would be saved from the
blasphemy of store bought pies.
She had one hour to take a shower and change into a good dress before she had
to leave. The trolleys were on holiday schedule and there was no way of being
sure exactly when she would be there. It was important that she leave enough
time to get across town to Jeff and Hilary's house. She had the address but
she had never been there. Neither had Maple, so the two girls had agreed to
meet at the trolley stop and go together.

Mackie was pleased to be invited to a Thanksgiving dinner. Being a bachelor,
he had long been used to largely ignoring family holidays like Thanksgiving
and Christmas. His own family wasn't in the area, and the WENN staff served
as the only family he had for the holidays. He never thought he'd be seeing
Jeff and Hilary throw a Thanksgiving party though. Just trying to imagine
Jeff carving a turkey made Mackie grin. And the very thought of Hilary
cooking! A shame Victor wasn't here to see this. He'd have gotten a kick out
of it too.
Hilary had said she didn't need anything. Just bring yourself, she had told
him. But Mackie never liked to visit anyone empty handed. He finally decided
to bring Mackie's Mashed Potatoes; with paprika sprinkled on top to make it
fancy. The one decent thing he could cook.

Hilary jumped when the doorbell rang. Who the hell was half an hour early?
She looked a sight!
"Pumpkin, could you get that?" she called from the bathroom. Her makeup was
only half on and she certainly wasn't going to answer the door with only one
eye having the false lashes on. That was no way to make an entrance.
She heard Jeff open the door and was pleased to hear Mr. Eldridge's voice.
Mr. Eldridge probably wouldn't notice if her eyelashes were long, short or
light or dark.
"I'll be right out, Mr. Eldridge," she called into the living room.
"Take all the time you need, my dear". Mr. Eldridge called back. Hilary was
grateful for the permission, but she had already decided to do just that.

By the time 2:00 rolled around the house was full. Hilary was shocked but
highly pleased at Betty's pies. They smelled more delicious than anything the
bakery could ever have provided. Mr. Foley leaned against the piano having
his ear talked off by Maple, who wasn't letting him get a word in edgewise.
He didn't seem to mind though, Hilary noticed. He was gazing at her and
smiling rapturously. Gertie, Mackie and Mr. Eldridge had seemed to find
something mutually engrossing to talk about, and Betty had almost
automatically taken on the role of co-hostess, helping Hilary and Jeff finish
up the last of the cooking and setting up in the kitchen and dining room.
There was only one guest not engaged in conversation with anyone. Scott
couldn't find any conversation going on that made sense for him to join. He
watched Betty as she busily dashed around Hilary's kitchen, getting more ice
cubes from the freezer as Jeff fixed more drinks. Jeff stopped briefly behind
Hilary and kissed the back of her neck, then picked up the fresh drink traybrought it out of the kitchen. Scott took the drink Jeff offered and
sipped it slowly, quietly observing Betty.
He had found he liked to watch her at the station. She was so amazingly
efficient. It was wonderful to watch her dash about trying to get everything
done on time. The way she kept everything running smoothly was incredible.
But what was really amazing was that she had no idea how charming she was.
Most women knew exactly what effect they were having on a man. They knew
perfectly well when they were being observed. Their every move was calculated
for effect. As far as Scott could tell, Betty had no idea at all. She would
be probably be upset and self-conscious if she knew.

Mr. Eldridge finally finished saying his rather long-winded Grace, and dinner
had begun. Jeff was certainly no expert in turkey carving, but then, none of
them were, and as host, it made the most sense for him to do it.
"Perhaps you should do it, Hilary", Scott joked, "you seem the type who would
be good with large knives".
"Thank you so much, Scott, but I've always preferred to use poison. Which
reminds me, I do hope you will try the sweet potatoes. I made them". There
was general giggling all around.
"I once worked as the girl in a knife throwing act" Maple chimed in. "Carbini
the Magnificent. I stood there in a bathing suit and he threw knives all
around me. He was brilliant at it; never missed."
"I hope you mean he never hit, Maple" Betty answered.
"Yeah, he never hit".

Despite Hilary's insistence that no donations to the table were required,
everyone brought something. The food was delicious, although Hilary's attempt
at stuffing privately made each member of the party wonder precisely what he
was eating, and Mr. Eldridge's salad was an odd conglomerate of every single
vegetable ever seen in a produce market. But after a few glasses of the
brandy Scott had brought, no one much cared about the food.

"Hilary, this turkey is delicious", Mackie told her, honestly surprised that
she was capable of cooking at all. Hilary hardly seemed the cooking type.
"Why thank you Mackie", Hilary answered, "the stuffing was Jeff's idea".
Jeff didn't even bother to protest.
"Maple," chimed in Betty. You absolutely must give me the cranberry sauce
recipe. It is some of the best I've ever had".
"Just came from a can, Betty. But thanks"

Thanksgiving should be a family holiday, Betty thought wistfully as she began
her second helping of turkey, this time without the dubious stuffing. She
looked around the table at her coworkers-her friends. Gertie was beaming from
the praise Mackie was giving her hot rolls, and Mr. Eldridge was sharing a
long rambling story with Jeff, who laughed in all the right places and didn't
even seem remotely bored. A shame Hilary didn't seem to appreciate Jeff,
Betty mused. He has an incredible gift for diplomacy and tact. In the months
since she had first come to WENN, she had never seen Jeff say or do anything
the least bit unkind. But when Betty turned to Hilary, she saw the beautiful
leading lady casting an adoring gaze on her husband. She realizes, Betty
thought with relief. Jeff really does care what Mr. Eldridge is saying, and
Hilary does realize what a nice guy she married. Betty turned to the other
side of the table. Mr. Foley nodded in agreement with the critique of a new
movie Maple was giving him, but his mouth was too full for him to say
anything. He could hardly be blamed for this. Maple's cranberry sauce
deserved to be honored with a full mouth. Thanksgiving was a family holiday,
but that was fine, Betty suddenly realized. Because these people were as much
her family as anyone else she knew.
"Betty Roberts", a voice next to her rang out, interrupting her reverie.
"You're pretty quiet", Scott said, "Penny for your thoughts". She smiled at
him. She actually liked him outside of the office. His over the top charm
never ceased but without the pressures of hustling and making a buck and being
a con-man, his charm was put into a different context. The context of simply
wanting to be liked and to have his company appreciated. And she did
appreciate it. He had a strange aura of chivalry behind all that con-
artistry. He had been the one to ask her if she wanted any more stuffing
before he took seconds, he had been the one to pour the gravy for her.

"Just wondering how the interns are getting along at the station without us",
Betty laughed in response to his inquiry."
"Don't even think about it Betty. They are fine, and you deserve a WENN free
holiday".
"WENN free? What's that?", she laughed. "I haven't had a WENN free minute in
months."

The interns had the station to themselves until six o'clock that evening.
Betty had given them simple things to read. A children's story she had
written about the landing of the Mayflower on Plymouth rock, a reading of The
Courtship of Miles Standish, another reading of The Midnight Ride of Paul
Revere, which although it had no connection to Thanksgiving at all, seemed
vaguely patriotic enough for the occasion. She had told Enid to read the poem
on the Statue of Liberty about the tired, the poor and the huddled masses.
The afternoon was to be filled with records of patriotic band music. It was
the same sort of Americana that every radio station across America put on for
Thanksgiving or any other patriotic holiday. It certainly didn't seem like
anything the interns couldn't handle. And even if a small problem arose,
they would be back at the studio at 6 and they could clear it up then.

The dinner dishes had been cleared and Hilary had just brought Betty's pies
out of the kitchen to a chorus of the required ooohs and aaaahs, when the
doorbells chimed loudly. Jeff opened the door to a slightly wet but cheerful
looking Eugenia.
"Hello Eugenia" Hilary said looking up from her pie slicing. "I didn't know it
was raining."
"Oh just a drizzle" Eugenia answered, taking off her coat and handing it to
Jeff.
"Sit down, Eugenia. You are just in time for Betty's pies" Hilary motioned to
Scott to move away from Betty and let Eugenia sit between them. He was a
little disappointed to have anyone, even so nice a woman as Eugenia come
between him and Betty, but he smiled and gave Eugenia his place.

"Now, what kind of pie would everyone like?" Hilary asked. "For myself, I
intend to have a nice big slice of pumpkin"
"What a surprise", Maple whispered audibly. The entire population of the
table cracked up. Hilary and Jeff laughing hardest of all.

"It was a wonderful party" Betty told Hilary as she put on her coat to leave.
"We should do it again sometime."
"Oh maybe sometime, Betty" Hilary answered. "Sometime when I there is a freak
blizzard in Maine and I have a huge turkey taking up half my freezer. Not
until then".
"Point taken" Betty said with a giggle. "I'll see you back at the station in
an hour".

"Give you a ride back to the station Betty?" Scott asked. I've got my car
here." Betty considered for a minute. It was cold and rainy.
"Only if you give a ride to Maple and Eugenia as well. Mackie is taking
Gertie, Mr. Foley and Mr. Eldridge in his car."
"So I will take Maple, Eugenia and you. I don't see any problem with being
seen escorting three of the nicest girls in Pittsburgh." He grinned
charmingly at her. She smiled back. If he was trying to win points with her,
she had to admit it was working.

"In Scott's car, Betty finally could not take it anymore. "Scott, please turn
on the car radio. I would at least like to know what we are walking into"
Scott nodded and flipped on the radio switch. The radio warmed up and they
heard Enids clear voice ringing out.

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying
And that same flower that smiles today
"Tomorrow will be dying"

"Oh No!!", Betty wailed. "She probably ran out of patriotic poetry and now
she's just reading every bit of poetry she knows".

"The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting."

"What's the matter with it?" Maple asked. "It sounds kind of pretty to me."
"The problem with it is the title, Maple", Betty responded. "It's called 'To
the Virgins, to Make Much of Time' ". Eugenia blushed beet red and Maple
started to laugh.

"That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former"

"I think we'd better get back to the station" Scott said, pressing down on the
accelerator. "You and I are going to have a lot of explaining to do to the
sponsors". Betty nodded grimly as they sped off toward WENN.

"Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while you may, go marry'
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry"

THE END

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