Part 16 – In Which The Game Is Afoot

“And… the show’s on the road!” Basil’s voice crackles in my comm unit. “Lights, camera, action!”

“This is not a television show.” I mutter pointedly to both him and Darcy. Not a moment ago they were fitting me to a dress as though this was the next airing of Saturday Night Live. Why is ‘formal’ a synonym with ‘uncomfortable?’ I do understand that sometimes it is required that one dresses in fancy attire. Especially when one’s entire family I (as well as the surrounding village) shows up to celebrate the life of of a most dear and most deceased man. I get that. But why must it be heels? Can’t we switch to moccasins?

“Come on, we could do something familiar to you girls. Snow white and the Seven Dwarves?” Sexist pig.

“You would play Snow White?” Darcy snarks.

“We’ve found our casting for Grumpy!” Basil hoots. “Hey Dopey, dear, where are you? The ball has started without you.”

“Honestly?” With a huff I step out of the hall and into the entryway. It’s jam-packed with other people in fancy clothing. They’re all trying to make their way into the crowded ballroom. So many people… My palms are already clammy so I send up a quick prayer that my deodorant will hold its own. “And FYI, Snow White never held a ball.”

“Yes I did.” It’s the prissiest voice I’ve ever heard come out of a boy’s mouth.

The entryway is so jam-packed with people that elbow room is a prestegious commodity. Darcy is  at the front of the crowd and she enters the scene. Basil whistles. We flinch. “Dang, Darcy, you’re looking fine.” She is. She is single-handedly the most gorgeous woman in this room. I wish I had half her beauty.

I try to make my way into the ballroom, but there are too many people in the way to move quickly. With death defying motion, I dodge elbows, wine glasses, and fatal hugs and make it into the ballroom. Okay, maybe that’s a little exagerated, but hey, I would have made Jackie Chan proud. On a balcony watching me through a pair of binoculars is Basil. The comm unit is quiet. “What, no comment?”

“I’m speechless, darling. Now wipe that ketchup of your cheek. Somebody was motioning a little too passionately with their appetizer when you passed.”

Still haven’t gotten rid of those tomatoes.

Have I mentioned how gorgeous our ballroom is? I almost believe that the dancing scene in ‘Beauty and the Beast’ was modelled after this room. This place has everything; the polished floors, the balconies, the infinite windows. Getting tired of this place would be hard. The room is packed with people, all dressed elegantly in black. To one side is set the buffet tables, with tiers of appetizers, desserts, and drinks. Another marvellous cake sits in the forefront. The rest of the room is filled with tables and chairs, and various people mill about. In front of the doors leading out to the garden, was a platform prepared for the speeches.

I’m making a speech. Remind me how I got roped into this? Ah yes. Family relation, social expectation and decency.

“Bridie, you take the Lee’s and the Chant’s, I’ll take the rest of the family.” Come’s Darcy’s voice. “Basil, I want you to keep an eye out for suspicious behaviour. When you can, undertake intensive background checks. Update on any findings.”

Basil hums. “Well, that cake looks suspiciously tomato-ey, eh Bridie?”

“Shut up.” I can feel my face going beet – er, tomato – red. “Darcy, I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course you can.” It’s Darcy’s prevalent, encouraging voice. “Just watch me and do as I do. Oh Mr. Tesdinic!” From across the ballroom, I watch Darcy grab a maid (Darcy! What the – !) and tap my Uncle Conrad on the shoulder. “Could I interest you in any bruschetta? It’s mozzarella and tomato.”

“Ah, thank you my dear.” Darcy’s comm unit picks up my relative’s voice. It carries the same confident air as his cousin, my Uncle Christopher.

I zone out of their stimulating conversation when Basil’s voice comes through the comms. “Conrad Tesdinic, Son of Bethany Tesdnic, formerly Bethany Baxter. Never married. Hobbies include hiking and skiing. Spends a lot of time with his cousins, Christopher and Millie Chant. Nothing interesting about him. He’s well off. Own’s a prominent line of bookstores called ‘Tesdinic & Grant.’ Prefers the city, but visits the Chant’s castle whenever he can.” Here Basil lets out a low whistle. ” Wow, there’s some pictures of it here. Blimey, this castle is neat. It’s got towers and – ”

“Basil, focus!” I hiss.

“Like I said, nothing suspicious. But you never know.”

“Where the heck are you getting this information?” Darcy interjects, finished with her conversation and marching off to her next victim.

The comms is silent. Basil must have shrugged.

“He came to visit once or twice when I lived here.” I offer. “He brought me books.”

“He brought me books.” Snow White mimics.

“Unless they’re in a lot of debt, I guess this rules the castle-owning Chant’s off the list.” I add. Julia  “I mean, there’s no way it’s them, right?”

A moment of silence, then: “According to his bank activity, the family is well off.”

“What?” Darcy just about shrieks. A couple people around the room turn and stare. Ever the quick thinker, she rips out her cellphone and cheers. “No way! I won!” The small crowd applauds.

“What did you win?” Someone asks as she races away.

Basil and I are the only ones to hear her mutter: “A lifetime in prison.”

“Bridie, are you okay? You’ve been wandering around talking to yourself for a while now.”

Startled by the sudden appearance of Vivian Lee, I stutter out an explanation. “I… am just a little overwhelmed by the amount of people.”

“Oh, I know. I can’t believe you invited so many people to your grandfather’s celebration of life.”

“Vivian Lee,” Basil drones through the comms. “daughter of Ranjit and Jenny Lee, granddaughter of Bonnie Lee, formerly Bonnie Baxter.”

“It’s lovely.” Says Vivian. “We once held a celebration of life in our mansion…” At the same moment Basil states: “They own a large mansion — quite well off.”

“We held it out in the garden and it started to rain.”

“Mr. Baxter didn’t seem to harbour any hatred towards them. He visited them rather often.” Basil says, in the same moment Vivian tells me: “Uncle Ben was there, you know. I liked him. He offered me his jacket. I wish I had known him better; my father speaks highly of him. Bridie, are you sure you’re okay? You haven’t stopped watching Cousin Angus chug champagne.”

“Just distracted, that’s all.” Someone stop the man. I bid farewell to Vivian, only to bump into a strange being.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going.” Says the thing.

“What are you?” I ask.

The thing moves. I realize that it is, in fact, a boy with a large camera hoisted upon his shoulder and huge rucksack on his back. “I’m a reporter.” Flashing a freckled grin he shakes my hand. “Basil invited me to do an article for the paper. The name’s Noah. Noah Collins.” He runs a hand through his chin length hair.

“A reporter?” Darcy is having her second breakdown of the night. “Basil, what made you think it was okay to invite a reporter?”

“Because,” He clears his throat. “you said, and I quote: ‘do anything to get information.'”

“That is not a direct quote.” She hisses. “And don’t you realize how compromising this could be? The press is never a good sign, Basil.”

“Hey, come on, it’s just Noah. We’re tight. He’s a friend of mine.”

“You must be Bridie. Basil told me about you.” Readjusting his camera, he announces: “I’m here to gather some information for the article.”

There’s a sound like a dying animal coming through the comm unit and it’s not Basil. “Bridie,” Darcy hisses. “Do something about him.”

Basil scoffs. “Darcy, it’s not like…”

“Just. Do something!”

Panic. There’s a lump in my throat and I feel frozen. My hands are clammy again. I can feel my nerve slipping, along with my bandeau. Blood rushes to my face and I’m pretty positive that I’m shaking. It’s all I can do to stutter: “Could you…? I mean. What I meant was–” Gulp. “Could I… watch?”

“You’re interested in journalism?” Noah seems pleased.

“I’m not sure.” I say truthfully, having never given it any thought.

Nodding thoughtfully, he says, “That’s alright. Follow me around and I’ll show you what it’s about.” He takes off and I am forced to go after him.

“Bridie…” Darcy groans.

I’m sorry. I look around for my friend, hoping she’ll come rescue me. I meet the faces of many people, but none of them are Darcy. Most of them are family, but all of them are strangers. For not the first time tonight, I feel small and lost. She probably got stuck helping the maids. Breath, Bridie, breath. Atleast you have Noah. Speaking of, he seems to have found his first person to accost with questions.

“What was your relation to Mr. Baxter?”

“He was my brother,” answers Aunt Beatrice.

I find it odd that of all people, Noah would choose the most formidable as his first victim.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Noah nods. “Thank you for agreeing to answer a few questions for me, especially this soon after…”

Twenty-one and a half days, comes the unwanted reminder. Not that I’d been counting.

Aunt Beatrice says nothing, only shoots me an unintelligable glance.

“How close were you were you?”

That heavy feeling in my chest is back again. The one that never stays away for too long. Someone bumps into me but I don’t pay them any mind. My aunt purses her lips and inhales through her nose. I don’t know if it’s my imagintaion, or if she takes a long time in replying.

“He was the youngest of the six of us, and the only boy. I was the oldest.”

“That’s quite the distance!” Noah chuckles. I find his grin contagious. “He must have been quite the little brother, and to be the only one at that! What was he like?”

After some thought, she replies, “I must admit: he was such a bother. Loud, and not in the way my sisters were. He was so rowdy, always coming home dirty. Sometimes he brought inside frogs, mice…” She shuddders. “Not at all the gentleman I thought he should be.”

“He sounds like quite the handful!” The boy next to me exclaims, and once again I find myself smiling despite the circumstance. “You must have many fond memories of him, then.”

“Yes,” There’s something in Aunt Bea’s eyes.

For some reason I look at Noah and find him waiting intently for her to continue. Suddenly I know why he chose journalism. Admiration fills me like a warmth to chilled bones. I wish I could be like him.

“One time,” My aunt continues, the same look in her eyes as the one I saw in the kitchen that one morning. “when we were still very little we dressed him up in our dresses and made him play tea. We set him up in one of our chairs around the table and fed him biscuits and juice. He looked ridiculous.” And then my aunt laughs.

And the heavy feeling is gone.

~*~

May 10 1999

My Dear Bridie,

It’s not always like this, you know. Sometimes we get along quite suitably. In fact, I get along with Bea most of all, though you wouldn’t know from watching us. We argue terribly. But that is simply our way, and I’m fully positive we enjoy it just as much as one another’s company, for we do enjoy one another. Maybe one day we will be civil to one another, but today is not that day. And hopefully when you are older you will get along with your Aunt and Godmother.

 

Part 10 – In Which Nothing Goes Right

The ballroom (Yes, the Baxter Mansion had a ballroom) was filled with people of all shapes and sizes. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and your father’s cousin’s niece once removed. There were suits, ties, dresses, hats, you name it. They were a group of well dressed peoples.

I felt awful. I couldn’t believe I had let Darcy convince me into wearing heals. And a dress, not to mention the fact that said dress had no sleeves. None. And my hair was revealingly done up off my shoulders in a decorative bun.

I was adorable.

I was elegant.

I was so exposed.

All I could do was cower behind my barely Bridie-Modesty-Test passing neckline and hope for the best. The best did not come, but a relative did, and not necessarily the best relative.

It was none other than Angus Flint, the most beastly relative of them all.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Baxter herself.” He swirled a glass of champagne and a sly smile spread across his face. “The lady of the house finally decided to show up. Why aren’t you all dolled up…”

I smiled weakly. “Yes, Darcy and I–”

He cut me off. “How would you like to have your first dance with yours truly.” His eyes rolled heavenward as though that is where he himself was bestowed from, to grace us females upon the earth.

My eyes rolled to the floor beneath us. “I–”

The laugh that he produced was nearly a giggle. “Oh, no need to be shy, I don’t bite. Unless you want me too, of course.” Hooking an arm around mine, he shoved his glass into another relative’s hands and dragged me towards the dance floor. I nearly tripped in my heels.

Help me.

A firm hand dropped on my shoulder. “I believe Ms. Baxter promised her first dance to me.” Hale reached around me,  tugging me gently towards him and away from slimy Angus Flint.

“You have no idea how uncanny your timing is.” I said quietly.

He looked bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I really did want your first dance.” But there was a teasing note in his voice and his surprised mask gave way to a charming smile. “Glad I could help.”

“So,” Hale’s hands wrapped around mine. “What do you think? Of the party I mean.”

I glanced around. “Alright I suppose. There are some sleazy relatives, the rest seem all right, and Mrs. Post seems to have made the most wonderful four tiered cake.”

He took a breath. “It looks delicious, doesn’t it?”

“Beautiful.” I agreed. The towering cake was a pleasant pink from top to bottom, adorned with white icing lace.

Hale looked back to me. “You do as well.” He released me in one hand and twirled me with the other. “Beautiful.”

I entirely greatful I knew how to dance. I knew twenty three different dances in total, with countless varying steps in between. All thanks goes to my parent’s eccentric travels. No matter how many varied steps I knew, nothing had prepared me for this moment. I had never danced in heels.

Putting my foot down wrong sent me flying out of Hale’s arms and onto the polished floor, where I lay for a moment, splayed out ungracefully on the floor. A chuckle ran through the crowd, mixed in with Aunt Bethany and Aunt Bonnies howls.

“Are you alright?” Hale hurried to my aid.

I nodded, flaming red and unable to meet anyone’s gaze. Where’s Darcy? I could really use some support here. I tried to inconspicuously hike up my strapless dress, which, I think had slipped down only slightly during my clumsy fall.

Hale helped me to a chair near the punch table. “Are you sure you’re all right? Can I get you anything? Ice pack?” He glanced at the table nearest us. “Punch?”

I nodded again, still staring at the floor. My ankle throbbed. “I fine, thanks, just need to sit for a moment. Punch would be great, thanks.”

He obediently poured me a cup of punch, asked me if I was alright once more, then seeing all I wanted was to be left alone, gave me a comforting smile and went away.

“Hallo, Bridie.” Said a plump girl I had seen earlier. “I’m sorry about your little spill. Looked painful. And embarrassing.”

I went furiously red. Would this be one of those things I’d never lived down? Hey Bridie, remember that time you tripped in your heels and had a graceless nosedive? That was so funny!

“It was.” I managed to laugh a little. This girl seemed friendly enough and didn’t seem to only be here to mock. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met. You obviously know who I am, but I never caught your name.”

“Julia.” She smiled. “Julia Chant.”

Chant. Chant was the last family to visit Grandfather. This puts them at the top of the suspect list. What could their motives possibly be?

I smiled politely. “Nice to meet you. Are you enjoying the party?”

She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Well, to be honest, like most parties this one is quite dull, but the punch is good so I don’t mind. However, I do hope something exciting happens before the night is up, don’t you?”

Laughing a little I nodded my agreement. “Yes, I hope so too. Just not to me. I’ve had enough excitement to last me the evening.” She seems all right. I suppose to find out anything of use I will have to speak with her father.

Vivian ventured towards us, punch in hand. “Hallo, Bridie. Julia.” She wore a dress of a fashion popular in the 1930’s, and she looked stunning in it.

“Hallo, Vivian.” We chorused.

She looked about to mention my little episode, then hesitated, a peculiar look on her face. “Is it just me, or does it feel stuffy in here?”

Julia and I sniffed the air. A putrid smell filled our nostrils and she coughed. “Do you smell that too, Bridie?”

“How strange.” I agreed. “The maids had this aired out not long ago and they informed me that everything was in order.”

The smell was growing stronger and Darcy came to me with the same look on her face as almost everyone in the room. “What’s going on?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know! One second everything’s fine and now…”

“Smells like something awful.” She nodded.

“What are we going to do, Darcy?”

Julia butt in, smiling excitedly. “We could move into the garden. It looks lovely.”

Darcy nodded firmly, then turned to a servant. “We need to move everything outside. Open the doors and let this putrid place air out. Notify some men to move the food and drinks outside as well.”

This was all done swiftly. The doors of the ballroom were flung open and people streamed onto the grounds, women fanning themselves and men simply complaining about the odor of the ballroom. I tested my ankle. At first I wobbled, but then I gained proper balance and hurried after the rest of them as quickly as my high heels and sore ankle would allow me.

It was much nicer outside. I took a deep breath and inhaled the fresh smell of blooming flowers.

“Bridie, I think you ought to see what I found.” Darcy pulled me back inside to a far corner of the ballroom. Here the smell was much worse and we both had to pull out handkerchiefs to cover our faces.

Darcy picked up a round object. “Stink bomb. A simple gadget. Anyone could make or buy it.”

I frowned from behind my handkerchief. “I wonder which one of us put it here and why.”

“I don’t know, but we must be careful, Bridie. They could be plotting anything.” Wrapping the object in a napkin, she stuffed it in a drawer of a table.

I nodded my agreement, then remembered something. “Darcy, where were you when I… um… fell?”

“Testing the food.” She looked guilty. “All of the appetizers have some form of tomato in them, Bridie. At least they don’t taste awful.”

I could only laugh at her sheepish grin as we returned to the garden.

Julia greeted me again and removed me from Darcy without so much as noticing her, intent on pulling me towards the cake table.

“Come on! It looks delicious.”

Sadly, our little cake walk was rudely interrupted.

There was a scream and a bright spark shot to the sky. A sharp pop and and the dark sky suddenly lit up with brilliant bright lights. The whole group of guests was thrown into an uproar. Everyone began screaming a whizzing about.  Shooting up into the air with piercing screams and exploding with violent pandemonium, the fireworks showered sparks upon the havoc.

“Look out!”

A shrieking, sizzling rocket had malfunctioned, plummeting back down towards earth. Towards me.

Julia and I did a hasty split, and I was thrown backwards, the firework barely missing my feet. I landed in the cake. Vanilla icing dribbled down my left cheek. A pink hunk of cake fell into my lap. I licked my lips. Ketchup cake. Will the tomatoes never end?

After extracting myself from the cake I became aware of a certain laughter. Of course, by that time nearly everyone was, if not full on howling, at least snickering a little. Even Julia gave a giggle of betrayal. But one laugh I recognized, and it wasn’t supposed be be here.

With raging fury I stalked towards the wrought iron fence surrounding the Baxter Mansion, walking in those heels like I’d been doing it my whole life. I was furious. Not even heels or twisted ankles could stop me now.

“Basil Stubbings!” I was so close to calling him some really bad names. Or at least chucking dangerous footwear at him. Maybe I’d be lucky and hit him heel end forward.

This boy, however, paid no heed to my rage and only laughed harder, holding on to the bars of the fence as though they were the only thing keeping him from falling over.

I was so overwhelmed with feelings of embarrassment, loathing, and vexation that all I could manage was a stuttering: “Why did you do this?” My voice cracked to an awfully high pitch, partly because as I spoke, a big glob of wet cake slipped down the front of my dress.

He wiped tears from his eyes and took a shaky breath. “I only wanted to have a little fun, ruin your big party, but–oh geez–I never thought something as rich as this would happen. This is too good.” He succumbed to another fit of laughter, but only after taking out his phone and snapping a picture.

I didn’t think. Grabbing two humongous fistfuls of ketchup cake, I flung them at his face. One landed squarely on his fore head and the other on his neck, dropping down the front of his shirt and onto his shoes. “Take a picture of that.” I snarled. If only this dog-gone dress had pockets, then I would have my phone with me.

As I turned to leave, Basil leaned through the bars of the fence, licked his lips and chuckled.

I swung around at punched an icing covered face, right where I thought his eye might be. I though better of this later, realizing I could have missed a hit a nasty wrought iron fence instead, but at the time, my only other option was flinging a high heel, and I didn’t want to be charged for attempted murder. Still, it brought back memories of the day he had toyed with my dog and I gave him what he deserved. I suppose nothing had changed.

“Agh!” He yelled, and fell back from the gate, holding his eye. Or if I had missed, his head.

Darcy was suddenly behind me, pulling me away. I’m not sure think she whispered one of the many bad words running through my mind. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I cast one more angry look at the boy next door and walked away.

~*~

June 11th 2005

My Dear Bridie,

I’m going to have to keep you and that Stubbings boy apart. I fear that if I don’t, you and Basil may kill each other before the summer is up. It’s a pity though–he seems a decent fellow. I really do with you would make friends. But then, I suppose that is simply not your way.

 

Part 9: In Which There Is Simply Too Much Family

I woke up with a start. There was a split second of panic, where I couldn’t tell up from down and the only thing I could see was a sliver of light.

The wardrobe door was flung open, blinding me with light. A young boy blinked squinted eyes at me, startled. A shock of long red hair was tied back in a pony tail. He wore what looked like a pair of pyjamas. The red stripe running across it crashed awfully with his red hair and freckled face. “Hide me!” He wheezed in what he obviously thought was a whisper. “Don’t let Jonathan know where I am!” With this he dove into the wardrobe beside me. The door had barely closed on his ponytail when there was a sound like a door being broken down.

“Where’d he go?”

The boy next to me breathed loudly through his nostrils sending huffs of air into my face. The wardrobe doors had not closed all the way, letting a sliver of light shine through.

Outside, another boy crossed his arms impatiently. “Sam!” His dark hair was long like the other’s and he wore the same clothes like pyjamas. His glasses sat on his nose, shielding almond shaped eyes.  A girl ran him over.

“Did you find Sam?” Picking her self up she stamped her foot, blonde curls bouncing angrily. She was the only one of the three not wearing clothes that resembled nightwear. “When I find him, I’m gonna–”

“Shh! Vivian, listen.”

In obvious attempt to be silent, Sam slapped a hand across his mouth. He inhaled little gasps of air through his nostrils, eyes wide. It was not very quiet.

“Found you!” The two screamed and pounced upon us, throwing open the doors and pulling helpless Sam out of hiding. He inhaled noisily, red face clashing terribly with his hair and PJs. Jonathan and Vivian looked surprised to find me there as well.

“He’s never been good at keeping quiet.” Vivian explained. “Even when he holds his breath.”

“Oh.” Was all I could say as struggling Sam was dragged out the door. He looked like the type of boy grown ups would describe as ‘rough,’ and who’s shoelaces were always untied. I looked down. Sure enough, Sam’s shoelaces trailed along behind him.

“What’s your name?” Vivian asked, dropping one of Sam’s arms once we had made it to the hall.

Sam sat up, gasping. “Are you going to be in the playroom tonight?”

Fixing his ponytail, Jonathan asked: “How old are you?”

“I’m Bridie and I am the host of the party so I will not be in the play room, no. I’m sixteen.”

Jonathan expertly straightened his glasses and said rather proudly: “Sam’s eight, but Vivian and I are fifteen and sixteen–old enough to go to the party. But Sam needs some one too look after him, so he’s staying in the playroom.”

“I don’t need looking after!” Sam stuck out his tongue. It was a strange golden color.

“You monster!” Vivian screeched. “You’re the one who ate my butter pie!”

The three raced down the hall, Sam’s laces trailing behind him like banners.

A woman with a worried look ran towards me. “Have you see three children? Two boys and a girl?”

“They seem to have disappeared.” Dahlia Swann came up behind her. “Mrs. Lee is very worried they may get in to trouble.”

Mrs. Lee nodded, looking ever fretful.

There was a dreadful thump some ways down the hall.

“That’s him. Tripping on his laces again.” Mrs. Lee took off. I couldn’t help but notice her dress very nearly resembled pyjamas, though by all means not unfashionable.

“Oh! Pumpkin,” Dahlia paused. “Did you meet my son?”

“Pardon, who?” Perhaps now was my chance to finally find out Darcy’s Brother’s name. Subtly, of course.

“My son.” Dahlia repeated as though I was simply hard of hearing. “Did you meet him.”

I smiled. “Yes, I did. It was nice to see him again.”

She looked pleased. “I’m glad you don’t mind. So many people, I though ‘what’s one more?’ And it’s been so long since either have us have seen him too. He’s been away at school for a very long time. Wants to go into something good like law, medical or teaching, like that. Isn’t it nice? Well then, ta, ta!” In expertise heels, she sped off, leaving me with much information about Her Son, though nothing as useful as his name.

~*~

I found Darcy and Her Brother waiting for me in the kitchen. I entered hesitantly, looking for a inedible vegetable filled cardboard box. Darcy met my gaze and shook her head. Sitting down next to her I whispered: “The storm has passed?”

“I think so. You’re lucky Bridie. It could have been much worse.”

But she spoke too soon. Mr. Post burst through the stain glass door and accosted us with a cardboard box containing ten kilos of tomaotes and a squash like the deformed head of a baby. Mr Post left with a bang and Mrs. Post gave a ‘tsk tsk’ and set to work.

I could have cried. “Darcy help me…”

She could only shrug and pat me comfortingly on the head.

Her Brother smiled encouragingly. “It’ll be alright.” He said. “Come on, let’s have cereal for lunch or something.”

With Mrs. Post waist deep in tomatoes, I was able to pull out ten kinds of cereal, eight of which were stale and had expired six months ago. I was just pouring milk into my bowl when there came a noise like thunder. The pots and pans on the oven shook and the kitchen doors burst open, relatives flooding into the room. The giant kitchen suddenly felt ten times smaller. Each relative was demanding edible food. It was apparent that Mrs. Post had served them yesterday’s Potato Casserole. One held up a chuck like a burnt coal.

“This thing is rock hard!”

“How old are these?”

“What are they?”

Mrs. Post looked like she could bust a vesel.

A tall, regal man rounded on me. “You. You’re Ms. Baxter, aren’t you?”

“Yes, don’t you have something edible for us to eat?” Said a plump, exotic woman next to him.

“Mama, I’m starving.” Two children wailed to her. They were both round and plain.

Hearing this, all the relatives suddenly turned to me with a passion. “What are we supposed to eat in this house?” The shouting turned to a roar and a couple raised fists in the air and brought up a chant.

Oh heavens, what am I supposed to do?

Darcy was all ready to pull me out of there, but I had decided I needed to fix this. Clambering onto the counter I gave my best shout.

No one heard me.

Mr. Post had come in through the door. He gave a bellow that was heard clearly above the mob. “Shut up, you lot, and let the girl speak!”

There was immediate silence.

“Thank you.” I nodded toward the gardener. “Look. I’m sorry you’re not happy with your meal arrangements. It’s my fault. And I’d like to apologize.” I turned to the Posts. “I’m sorry I’ve angered you both. It’s simply been a very long time since I’ve been in your company, and I’d ask that you’d give me room to make mistakes.” The two nodded and looked almost cheerful. To the rest of the throng I yelled: “Who wants pizza?”

Everyone gave up a shout. Darcy clapped. Her Brother helped me down from the counter, though not without knocking over a bowl of cereal. I took a deep breath to try and stop my heart from pounding. “I’m going to have to apologize to you as well.” I shouted at Darcy’s Brother above the noise. “I can’t for the life of me remember your name.”

He laughed heartily and leaned closer to hear. “Well, why didn’t you say so? The name’s Hale. Hale Swann.” He took my hand in his and shook it.

I grinned and blushed, adrenalin gone. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” And with that he led me grandly towards the telephone to call the pizza place.

~*~

April 10 2003

My Dear Bridie,

For your birthday this year I bought you a bicycle. You were more that ecstatic to try, but insisted on doing it yourself. That is, until you got on the bike. As soon as your feet left the ground you called for me to help you. I did, and after that you wouldn’t let me let go. I’m going to have to let go eventually, otherwise you’ll never learn how to do it on your own. Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow.