Chapter 13
“I’m quite pulled, Margaret. I want to stay in Sto’ven ... spend the Christmas holidays with Hunter. But I know I should get back to the Studio, too.” Her hugged her arms close to her chest as she strode anxiously back and forth on the newly restored carpet in the freshly painted and papered drawing room.
“I understand ... honestly I do. You’ve an affection for Mr. Munro. It’s perfectly reasonable that you’d want to be with him. I’m excited to be going home because I want to spend Christmas with Duff and Da.” Margaret watched her friend fret and said logically. “It won’t take two of us to check on the Studio. I’m sure I’ll be able to handle any and all contingencies. As you said, this is the slow time of year. If there is a problem I can’t address by myself, we’re but a telephone call away from one another.”
“You’re a brick, Margaret Gregor ... a solid gold brick. Thank you.” Snatching a tissue from a nearby box, Judith blew her nose. “The fabric samples for the bedrooms and bathrooms should be ordered from Salinger’s and Whitman’s. Helen can show you where I keep the Rolodex file with all the numbers you’ll need. I’ll jot down anything else I think of before you leave. Oh ... could you send me a fruitcake from Harrods’s, if you get down that way? That and their brandy plum pudding are my weakness’ this time of year.”
Margaret smiled. “The fruitcakes and plum puddings baked by our Mrs. McGillicuddy are better than Harrods ... I promise. I’ll send you one of each.”
After the plane had slowly rolled up to the arrival dock, Margaret took her time deplaning. Coming into the waiting area, she watched her fellow passengers hurrying towards the family and friends that had come to meet them. Shouts, screeches, tears ... people kissing one another ... hugging one another ... men slapping each other on the back. Adding to the high spirits was the Christmas music being played over the intercom system. The exuberant holiday mood ... or something ... had caused a lump to form in her throat.
No reason for tears ... I’ll be home soon enough.
Staring into the crowd, she searched for Victor’s dignified uniform and solemn expression. But instead, she saw Cara running toward her followed by a limping and grinning Duff. Hugging her speechless sister-in-law, Cara cried, “Welcome home ... welcome home, Margaret.”
“Thought you were never going to get off that damn plane.” The hand not holding the cane squeezed her shoulder while he bent to kiss her cheek. “Glad you’re home, baby girl, we missed you.”
Margaret was weeping and smiling at the same time. “This is so unexpected.” Cara pulled a handkerchief out of her furry fox pocket and gave it to her.
“Thank you for coming for me. I was expecting Victor to pick me up.” Mopping her face as best she could, Margaret said to Duff, “You haven’t called me ‘baby girl’ since I was five. And, now I’m acting like a five year old.”
“We’ll let it go this time ... just don’t let it happen again.” Still grinning he said, “Baggage pick-up ... let’s get to it.”
“A lot has occurred in this family these past few months, Margaret, as you well know. Duff, Cara and Donal have moved into the nursery wing ... or as we call it now, the east wing, and Charlotte and I plan to live in the west wing.” Alistair flushed, slightly, and then resumed. “We are in need of your expertise in the west wing. I’m afraid not letting you have your way with mine and your mother’s rooms, God rest her soul, was unreasonable on my part and now I must repent and ask you to get at them as soon as possible.”
“When is the wedding to be, Da?”
“In April, the Saturday after Easter. Nothing big or flashy ... family and friends ... much like Duff and Cara’s wedding.” Alistair walked to the hearth and with the poker in hand, stoked the fire and added more coal.
“I’m pleased, Da. I like Mrs. Hamblin. Uhh ... how did Rosemary take the news?”
“Not well, I’m afraid. I had no idea that Charlotte Hamblin was a ‘conniving fortune hunter who more than likely murdered her adulterous husband in his sleep ... not that anyone could blame her ... but still, should someone upset her again, who knows what could happen’. Your sister’s words, of course, not mine. My response I will not repeat. Just know that your sister will not ... and I repeat ... will not be having Christmas dinner at our table.”
“I see,” said Margaret. Then changed the subject. “Were you able to find me a smallish house that I can afford?”
“Your brother and I talked to the banker and two estate agents and I fear there is nothing suitable in your price range. But, Duff and I have come up with an alternative we hope will appeal to you.” Alistair picked out a cigar from the box on his desk. “Let’s go into the conservatory so I can light this Havana cigar instead of sucking on it.”
Father and daughter walked arm in arm through the double doors into the airy plant filled conservatory. They sat in two rattan chairs separated by an ornate iron table with a large ceramic ashtray placed in the middle. Alistair cut off the tip of the cigar, lit the end, puffed like a steam engine to ignite the beast, inhaled and then exhaled happily.
“What we propose, daughter, is that you invest half the money you inherited from Frances and keep the other half in the bank so that you will have some fluid funds to use for your business venture. As for living arrangements, we thought we’d convert the attics along with the unused servants quarters into a single dwelling ... even add a small kitchen, if you’d prefer to eat apart from the rest of us on occasion. The old servants entrance and stairway would work well as a private entryway to the apartment. We’d ask you to design the space as well as decorate it. What do you think?”
“I think you would be paying for my new residence, not me.” Margaret stood and began gnawing on her thumbnail. “I like the idea of a separate apartment. It would only be a dismantling and a reconfiguration inside the Manse. The integrity of the outside would remain the same.” Continuing to contemplate the idea, she paced to the doors and back again. “I will use a portion of Aunt Frances’ inheritance to pay for the decorating and furniture, etc. Since the apartment will be a part of the Manse, I agree that you and Duff should be responsible for the reconstruction and I will do the designing and have the blueprints drawn-up by an architectural engineer.”
“I will agree to your terms, Margaret, if you will refurbish the west wing before beginning on the attics.”
“Judith and I have a lot to do yet on Cara’s house. I think Judith can handle it alone for a while ... I’ll call and discuss it with her. If she agrees, I’ll do the west wing after the holidays.”
“That’s the ticket, my girl. You have a good business head.”
Smiling, Margaret stuck out her hand to shake her father’s, but he, in a courtly manner, brought it to his lips, and bowed.
....
“It was a horrific error in judgment, Rosemary, insulting the woman Da is going to marry. There is no way I would ever hurt him by saying I agreed with you ... I don’t agree with you. What you said about Charlotte Hamblin was a malicious lie.”
Margaret stood glowering at the phone while Rosemary whined on the other end about being misunderstood while trying to save her father from a fate worse than death.
“Your over use of tired clichés is a waste of my time. If you want to apologize to Da, do it in writing. He may open a letter, but he won’t talk to you in person or on the telephone. I’m too busy to listen to anymore of your bleating. Goodbye.”
Margaret, Cara and Charlotte had outdone themselves making the ballroom look like a winter wonderland for the Veterans Holiday Banquet to be held late that afternoon. Two hundred and thirty two vets had responded. Nearly half would be in wheelchairs or on crutches. Special seating had been arranged for their particular needs. Adair Catering had sent a team of waiters ahead to set up the tables and stow the salads and desserts in the refrigerators. Duff and Alistair were getting dressed and going over their very short and to the point speeches. Victor and Morris were directing the waiters to set a small wrapped gift at every place setting.
Sipping their tea in Cara’s sitting room in the east wing, the ladies purred with pleasure at their accomplishment.
Lifting a scone onto her plate, Charlotte remarked, “My dears, I’m exhausted, but it is so breathtakingly magnificent. And, your family may enjoy it for the rest of the season. Has Donal been down to see it?”
“I saw a rumpled head of russet hair bob in and out of the ballroom door several times. He’ll be down first thing tomorrow morning ... before any of the rest of us are up. Imagine being nine years old and wandering alone through a world of such wondrous enchantment.” Cara stared wistfully out of the window. “I think it might look like what we imagine heaven should be.”
“If, only for an afternoon, the veterans could be lifted out of whatever pain they endure daily, it was worth the effort. Every year I pray that will be the case.” Margaret lowered her eyes. “I know it seemed I didn’t much care for the plight of these men, but I did ... I do ... I care very much.”
Both Cara and Charlotte nodded ... assuring Margaret they knew she cared.
Plans for Christmas dinner were well in hand. Mrs. McGillicuddy had done all of the baking ... Margaret had sent off to Scotland a plump brandy soaked plum pudding and a rum fruitcake ... and now she and Cara were discussing the “Rosemary” problem.
“Da is angry and rightfully so. But, Rosemary and William are family. They have nowhere else to go on the Day. William’s relations live in Canada and, though they have friends in Town that may extend them an invitation, that is different than being with family.” Tying a red ribbon around the prettily wrapped package, Margaret snipped the ends and placed the parcel under the tree with the other gifts to be opened on Christmas Day. “Da is being obstinate and Rosemary is ... well ... Rosemary. What can be done?”
“I’ve been worrying about this, too. What I think we must do is seek advice from our stepmother and mother-in-law to be.”
“Da would be furious if Charlotte were to hear of Rosemary’s slanderous remarks.”
Carefully draping silver strands of tinsel over the evergreen branches, Cara considered Margaret’s anxiety. “That is because your father feels he needs to protect her from hurt and any defamation to her character. You and I know Charlotte doesn’t need that kind of protection. The woman was married to a horrid man whose actions were a constant insult to her and her family and because she was known to be the innocent party, she survived in society. She’s a strong woman ... endured two world wars and is still dealing with a very silly son. We need her wisdom, Margaret.”
Margaret twitched uneasily while Cara twisted the doorbell ... neither said anything while they waited for the chime to be answered.
“Cara, Margaret ... do come in. I was so pleased by your call this morning that I rushed right out and fetched the ingredients for a receipt that Daisy sent in her Christmas card ... called soft gingerbread. It was her Grandmother’s favorite.” Charlotte hung up their coats, scarves and umbrellas and ushered them down into her warm, sweet-smelling kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind putting your knees under my kitchen table instead of lounging in the more comfortable drawing room. Must keep my eye on the doings in the oven ... roasting a chicken. Have to baste it every once in a while so it doesn’t dry out.”
“Of course we don’t mind. What a wonderful room ... smells heavenly, too.” Cara pulled out a chair and sat down.
Sitting in the chair opposite Cara, Margaret said, “I very much like your color choices ... black and white with cherry red accents. It’s exceedingly bright and cheerful.”
“Another tiny dollop of whipped cream?” Charlotte plopped another spoonful of the peaky white stuff on top of Margaret’s square of gingerbread. Sitting in the chair between the two younger women, she looked at one and then the other. “Something’s wrong ... but you’re going to tell me all about it and we’ll see what we can do to make things right.”
Margaret let Cara do the telling, as she was too terribly embarrassed to do so herself. After all, we were speaking of a slander perpetuated by her sister.
“Oh my ... I see. Yes ... I can see the problem is quite an awkward one.” Charlotte stood and refilled their teacups. “Now, Margaret, none of this is your fault. You are a dear girl and have no reason to be embarrassed on my account. The gossip about Arthur’s death reached my ears years ago, but it was settled quickly by a coroner’s verdict and an especially poignant death notice that ignored Arthur’s activities but honored my parents and me. As to the part about me being a conniving fortune hunter, that’s just spiteful nonsense from petty gossips ... a smelly bit of wind, if you’ll excuse the euphemism, which will dissipate in a very short time.”
Startled, Cara quickly responded, “Dear Charlotte ... Please believe that Margaret and I find no credibility in any of those slanderous remarks. We came to ask you to help us make things right between Alistair and Rosemary. Alistair is furious with Rosemary.”
“That’s true, Charlotte. Rosemary has dug her heels in as well. We need some wise counsel. Da would be very angry with us if he finds out we’ve been meddling in what he considers his affair. But it is our affair ... we are a family.”
“Thank you for already considering me part of your family. I will not be the wedge that separates a father from his daughter.” Removing the tea things from the table, Charlotte stepped into the larder and came out with a bottle of sherry and three cordial glasses. After distributing the libation between them, she lifted her glass and said, “To making things right again.
I think I may know how Rosemary reasons. For instance, if someone is ‘top-drawer’, so to speak, they must be acceptable no matter what the gossips may say.” Frowning, Charlotte looked up toward the light fixture and drummed her fingers upon the table. “I’m not acquainted with any lords or ladies, but I’ll wager your husband is, Cara. I’d imagine he has several royals as loyal supporters of the veteran’s ‘cause’.”
Cara answered, “Yes! In fact, several attended the Veterans Holiday Banquet last Saturday. Do you remember who they were, Margaret?”
“Hmmm ... Lord Desmond, Lord Waversheld and Lord Smythe-Wells sat at the high table with Da and Duff.”
“Are you acquainted with any of their wives?” asked Charlotte.
“I’m not closely acquainted with any of them ... but, Lady Smythe-Wells went to school with Mother. They were quite devoted to one another as girls. I remember Mother used to tell us about the fun times they had together. Lady Smythe-Wells has always taken the time to greet and visit with me when ladies were invited to the veteran gatherings. She said I reminded her of Mother.”
“I am wondering if Lady Smythe-Wells, in the spirit of the Season, as well as her dear friendship with your mother, would be willing to take part in a teensy ruse ... for the greater good of restoring love and harmony to her dear deceased friend’s family? You might ask her if she would claim a social acquaintance with a Mrs. Charlotte Hamblin.”
Cara and Margaret smiled at their future relation. “We knew we could count on you,” said Margaret. “I’ll call Lady Smythe-Wells tonight and tell her all about it. For Mother’s sake, I’m sure she’ll be glad to do it.”
“I was astounded ... just astounded. Imagine ... Lady Smythe-Wells phoning to congratulate me on the forth-coming marriage of Father to Mrs. Charlotte Hamblin. She said Mrs. Hamblin was one of the most up-standing women of her circle of acquaintance and how fortunate it was that she was to be my stepmother. What I thought about her was simply not true, Margaret. I’ll write a note and apologize to Father immediately ... how terrible to have such slander laid at one’s door. I’ll befriend Mrs. Hamblin as quickly as I can and certainly make sure everyone of my acquaintance knows the truth. Oh ... and I forgive you for your rude behavior on the telephone last week, Margaret. Goodbye.”
“Daughter, what is this twaddle about Lady Smythe-Wells and dear Charlotte? What difference should it make to Rosemary who Charlotte does or does not know? I wasn’t aware of their social connection, but then, why would I know with whom dear Charlotte is acquainted? This note from your sister is a gush of nonsense. But, she has apologized and that is more than I had expected of her. Please telephone and invite the Broadmoore’s for Christmas dinner.”
“Yes, Da ... ‘tis the season for giving and forgiving. I’ll telephone her immediately.”
Because Cara and Margaret insisted that Mrs. McGillicuddy and Morris spend Christmas with their own families, dinner for the Gregor’s and their guests was a cold but substantial meal that the hostesses laid out buffet style. Alistair fetched Charlotte as early as he possibly could without making himself look ridiculous. Duff told him that dawn was too early and, should he show up at her door at that hour, he would look incredibly ridiculous.
Charlotte carried to the tree several gaily-wrapped packages and Alistair toted to the kitchen a large pot of clam chowder. “Another one of Daisy’s receipts. Fiona helped me prepare it yesterday ... just need to heat it up.”
“And, who is Fiona? Your cook, I expect.” Rosemary looked around the room for any stranger lurking in their midst.
“No, Fi is not my cook. She is my good friend. My son, Richard is picking her up and they should be arriving any time now.”
“Really!” Rosemary quipped. “I thought today would be a family affair. Oh, well ... it can’t be helped now, I suppose, since she is already on her way.”
Alistair was on the point of rebuking his daughter for her ill manners when Charlotte laid her hand over his. “On the contrary, my dear, Fiona is as dear to me as any daughter could be. She is my family and will be part of yours in the spring.”
Rosemary sniffed. “Oh ... she’s your son’s fiancé ... you could have said so.”
“She is not Richard’s fiancé, Rosemary. She is our dear friend.”
Noticing that nearly everyone in the room, except William, was scowling at her, Rosemary decided to drop the subject.
To the relief of all present, the Broadmoore’s had excused themselves early saying they had other obligations that afternoon and had better “Ta Ta”.
“Having a cold buffet was convenient, but your chowder was a godsend, Charlotte. It added the warmth we needed and tasted delicious.” Cara laid the last of the leftover meats in the refrigerator and closed the door. “Let’s leave the men to enjoy their smokes and brandy in the conservatory and we’ll stroll through the enchanted ballroom.”
Having wandered all around the beautiful room for about a quarter of an hour, the women pulled four comfortable chairs into a semi-circle and sat down.
“I received a letter from Daisy yesterday.” Charlotte reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “I miss her so much, and it’s such wonderful news. She’s expecting a baby in May ... says Jackson is out of his mind he’s so excited. His job as editor of the local paper is going very well and they’ve bought a three-bedroom house made of logs. She’s says it’s just as modern as most homes, but very rustic looking. Their property is quite large, has lots of trees and a creek runs through it. Sounds somewhat romantic, I think.”
Margaret said, “Sounds a bit primitive for my taste. Americans are a strange people.” Her wink and smile took any sting out of the remark. “I’ve never seen Richard so excited. Imagine being given an opportunity to write for a national sports magazine in New York City. I’ve always known he was extremely talented ... but, New York City! When did he tell you, Charlotte?”
“He found out yesterday afternoon and surprised Fiona and I with the news at the Palace Restaurant last evening.”
Charlotte reached over and laid her hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “Fi, I told everyone earlier that you were as dear to me as any daughter could be. I truly mean that. Fiona looked over at Charlotte and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Hamblin.” Deciding to share her feelings as well, she said, “Remember the day of Ma’s funeral when Richard handed you his car keys and started telling you what to do and how to do it? You just looked at him and said, ‘don’t ruin the moment, Richard’. You made me laugh. The day was so horrible, but you made me laugh. I told Richard then that I loved his mother.”
Charlotte leaned over and kissed Fi’s cheek. “Margaret, Cara ... soon you will be my daughters. I hope that the four of us will be very close ... because I want us to be. And, as I’m the mother, I’m going to risk opening my heart to all of you.”
Cara and Margaret glanced at each other and then back at Charlotte and Fiona.
Cara said, “Both Margaret and I already think of you as a mother and if Fi is dear to you, she will also be dear to us.”
Margaret nodded her agreement.
“I’m going to talk to Fi, now, as a mother.” She turned to face Fiona. “Dear girl, in the past, my son treated you horribly and he has since repented. Lately, he has been courting you. That’s an old-fashioned term but I think it describes the situation accurately. He told me he was in love with you and was going to show you that he could now be trusted. He was trying very hard to win you back.” She picked up Fi’s hand and held it tightly in hers. “I believe Richard truly believes he loves you ... he’s trying so hard. Since he heard about the New York job, though, he has given no thought to you or to me, no thought as what this news might mean to either of us. My dear, Richard is a superb sports writer. His job and his love of sports will always be his highest priority. This season of the year experiences a lull in athletic activity and, not to put too fine a point on it, he hasn’t had much to keep him occupied ... except his pursuit of you.”
“I understand.” Fi wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.
Cara reached into her pocket for a tissue and handed it to her.
“I love my son, Fi, but I wouldn’t want to see you hurt again for the world.”
Fiona nodded. “For a while, I thought maybe he really meant it this time, but I could see he was struggling. Meaningful conversation never came naturally, although, he was good at repartee and flirting. We usually talked about games and players ... which I like to do, but not all the time.” She sighed. “I didn’t get much sleep last night ... did a lot of thinking. I like Richard very much ... even thought I might want to marry him ‘cause he’d been so good to me since Ma died. He came close to proposing to me a couple of times, but then he’d lose his nerve, stutter something silly and go home. Mrs. Hamblin, Richard is a fine man ... just not husband material. I really don’t think he should marry anyone.”
Margaret cleared her throat. “May I throw in a suggestion here?” Having caught everyone’s attention, she continued. “Not that I have any experience along these lines, but It occurred to me that it might behoove Fiona to step out of the relationship before Richard does. Before he realizes that he can either leave her again and go to New York alone or ask her to come along ... in an unmarried capacity.”
“You’re right, Margaret. I’ll have to take the lead this time and send him on his way with all my best wishes. This way, he won’t feel guilty and I’ll still have some self-respect.”
Cara remarked, “You are a kind and generous woman, Fi. You have the respect of all of us, here.”
Charlotte wriggled herself more comfortably in her chair. “She most certainly has. And, as we’re speaking of respect, I have a favor to ask the three of you. I’d like you to address me as ‘Mom’. Before Daisy went home to America, she’d started calling me Mom and I loved it. What do you think?”
Cara chuckled; Margaret cocked a brow and held her tongue, and Fiona looked startled.
“You girls think about it for a while. Now, that brings me to another notion that’s been playing about in my head ... I didn’t sleep much last night either. Since Richard will be living in the States for an extended period of time, I’m going to be alone until Alistair and I are married. That does not appeal to me. I’d like Margaret to move in with me.”
Margaret was again rendered speechless.
“Hear me out, now, dear. Your bedroom is in the west wing of the Manse, which you will be refurbishing after the first of the year. Nothing need be done to your bed/sitting room, it is beautiful, but the rest of the rooms will likely be torn apart. I suggest you move your father into your rooms during the restoration and you move into Richard’s room. His is far from beautiful, but it is light, spacious and comfortable. I would enjoy your company very much.”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. You’re right, of course, Da needs a room of his own for a few weeks.” Margaret shook her head slightly. “So much has been going on ... let me think ... yes, it’s a logical solution for the time necessary to finish the project.”
“That’s settled, then ... good.”
“As regards you, Fi, dear ... would you consider being my house sitter? After Alistair and I marry, my home will be left empty. That is not a good idea. I will need a house sitter, as I do not want to rent it or sell it any time soon. It must be someone I trust to care for my home as I would care for it myself.”
Rather dazed, Fi repeated. “You want me to live in your home after you’re married?”
“Yes ... I couldn’t bear for strangers to stay there.”
“I... I would love to, Mrs. Ham ... err ... Mom.” Fi smiled and blushed.
It was Christmas night and they were sitting in the Topo parked in front of Fiona’s flat. She had turned in her seat to face him and listen to him describe, once again, the potential success of the promising new sports magazine. Although the magazine was at present focusing on upscale activities such as yachting, polo and safaris, it was planning to, in the near future, publish articles about the American version of ‘football’, as well as baseball and basketball. He would write about scouting out the best players for the different games; he would be covering the World Series and the Olympics. It would be his job to help motivate the sports-going public to support these competitions. Richard was so engrossed in the exciting life that was soon to be his in New York, that he hadn’t noticed Fi’s tense expression.
As he drew breath to continue, Fi quickly placed a hand on his wrist. “I need to tell you something, Richard. It won’t take long.”
“Oh ... do you have to go in already?”
“Richard ... I wanted to thank you again for being such a good friend to me since Ma’s funeral. Don’t say anything, please, just let me tell you what I’m feeling.” Fi took a deep breath. “You’ve been caring and attentive, but I’m fine now. There is no need to keep looking after me. The job offer in New York is perfect for you. You have all the talent, enthusiasm and expertise to be the best in your field. Don’t even think about hesitating to take what they are offering. I will watch over your mother ... help her with the wedding ... make sure all goes well ... so you needn’t worry ... I have to go in now.” Fi opened the car door and stepped out. Leaning down, she peered in at him and said, “I wish you a safe voyage and all the luck in the world. Send me a postcard once in a while.” She closed the door, pulled out her latchkey and walked to her flat without turning around. The Topo’s motor sparked and sputtered as she entered her front door ... then she heard the familiar muffled growl and the car pulled away.
“I don’t know if I’ve just been dumped or set free. Thought I was getting somewhere with her, but ... I’m not sure what happened.” Adding another shovel of coal to the fizzling fire, he began to stir it with the poker.
Laying down her book, Charlotte Hamblin looked up at her son. “You’re not courting Fiona anymore?”
“Apparently not. She thanked me for being her friend since her mother died; said I shouldn’t hesitate to take the New York job, it was perfect for me and wish me bon voyage. Oh ... she’s going to watch over you, so I’m not to worry.”
“Would you have worried?”
“No need to ... you have Alistair, Fiona and the Gregor clan.”
“Yes, I have ... and you have been sent off guilt free to do what you want to do wherever you want to do it. You are an extremely fortunate young man. Do you know when you’ll be leaving?”
“After the first of the year ... around the tenth, I think. Mum, do you mind that I’m going?”
“Of course I don’t mind. Why should I mind? Sorry that you’ll miss the wedding, though. I doubt you could afford to take off time from your new position so soon.”
Richard frowned. “Right ... wouldn’t be cricket ... coming back so soon. Wanted me to walk you down the aisle and all that ... sorry, Mum. You can find someone to do that bit, surely.”
“As a matter-of-fact, I’ve already thought of someone ... someone I’m very fond of ... he’ll be happy to oblige me, I’m certain.”
“Well, that didn’t take long. Who is this obliging fellow?”
“Jordy ... you remember Jordy Travis. He was in the same combat unit as you and Duff.”
Richard stared at his mother. “Young Jordy? Of course I remember him, but how do you know him so well?”
“He comes to Hill Manse quite often ... hospice business with Duff and Alistair. We’ve had luncheon together and visited many times. He is a dear man.” Mrs. Hamblin tapped her forefinger against her lips. “Oh, by the way, Richard ... pack everything you’ll need for however long you intend to be gone, as the rest will have to be stored. As soon as you leave, Margaret Gregor will be moving into your room.”
Gawd ... I’m not yet cold in my grave.
----
Fiona opened the door on the second buzz and stepped aside to allow a fragrant festoon of lilies, irises, carnations and roses come into the room accompanied by Richard. Taking the flowers from him, Fi smiled.
“They’re beautiful, Richard. Come in and sit down. I’ll put them in a vase ... be right back.”
Lighting a cigarette, he sat on the arm of the chair beside a large ceramic ashtray. “I’ve been thinking about you this past week, Fi. For all my talk about the New York job, you probably assumed I’d wiped any thought of you ... or Mum, for that matter, out of my mind. I had, temporally ... but, only until I got my swelled head to fit back under my hat again.” Watching Fi place an overflowing urn on the dining table, he stood, offered her a cigarette and lit it.
“I say to you ... ‘Fi, I’m going to New York to fulfill my destiny’ and you say, ‘Richard, I wish you all the best ... go and be happy.’ I am a selfish slime ball and you are a generous woman. I appreciate your generosity, Fi. I truly care about you even though I was and I am still a lousy boyfriend and would be an even lousier husband. But, you already know that.” Pulling an envelope from an inside pocket, he smiled ruefully. “I want you to have these.”
Taking the envelope from him, she opened it. “Oh, Richard! Season tickets for the Lions ... four season tickets.” Grinning, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you.”
“I know my girl.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’m really going to miss you, luv. Goodbye.”
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