FAMILY
follows "Served"

"You do think she likes me, don't you?" Olivia asked abruptly, snug in a new flannel nightgown, ruby-red with white piping around the collar and cuffs of its long sleeves.

Bobby, seated awkwardly at the edge of the sofa bed at their hotel, The Wind in the Willows resting in his lap, tilted his head at her. "Who?"

"Your aunt." Olivia's head bowed over her stuffed fox; the new stuffed animal Bobby had bought her that day, a unicorn with a rainbow-striped horn, had been left perched next to her pillow.

"Aunt Agnes is your aunt now, too—it doesn't matter that it isn't 'official yet'—it will be soon. Why are you worried?"

"Well, I'm not actually related to her." Olivia finally looked up but avoided eye contact by scanning the pleasant little room decorated in soothing blues and pale violets with touches of chocolate brown, the kitchenette at one end and curtained windows at the other, a door to the bathroom, and another door to the bedroom straight ahead of her.

Alex, who'd finished readying for bed with the bathroom door slightly ajar, could overhear everything. Like Bobby in a t-shirt and pajama pants, she padded into the living room of the one-bedroom suite with a little smile, pulling her hair back with a soft scrunchie. "Well, I'm not related to her either, sweetheart. Of course she likes you."

"It's different," was the troubled answer. "You married Papa. I just...got inherited."

Bobby smoothed her hair. "She asks after you any time I talk to her. You spoke to her in Chicago—she and Sandy were happy to meet you. So was Molly when we saw her in California."

"I know." Olivia turned on her side to face them, smiling at the little unicorn, while Alex settled in the armchair next to the sofa bed. Under the window, Sam was lying on his blanket, and Bandit was fluffed up drowsily in his cage set on a folding tray table next to the television, the flannel cover open at the front. Her mother added, "I'm sorry today didn't work out better."

Olivia shrugged, but she still looked a bit wistful. "You didn't make it rain."

The first half of their Thanksgiving sojourn to Michigan had been slightly dampened (literally) by rain on their route from Connecticut through central Pennsylvania, where they had arranged to stop for the night. Alex had hotel points at her favorite, Bridgeton Suites, and she'd planned to use some for an early check-in at the pet-friendly hotel so they could park the big tricolor collie and the white-and-grey budgie safely in the room, then do a little sightseeing in Pennsylvania Dutch country. But when the forecasted rain did indeed arrive, they instead dawdled through the countryside, making short stops at little farm stands and souvenir shops. Bobby found a promising-looking book outlet in Lancaster, in a strip shopping center side-by-side with an Amish farmer's field where Olivia watched in fascination as a man wearing what she called a "mac" plowed a field behind two dapple-grey horses hitched to a harrow (to capture the moisture in the soil, Bobby told her). Alex remained in the car, keeping Bandit comfortable so her two bookworms could browse.

"You should be able to come in, Mama," Olivia said, troubled.

"I have my Kindle and I'll be fine," Alex assured her. "The only problem with my not being there to ride herd on you two is that I dread to see what you'll stagger out with. It's the price we pay for traveling with our pets. When we get to the Bath & Body Works outlet, it will be your father's turn to have budgie duty."

"We'll restrain ourselves," Bobby promised, then added, "I'll be practicing my lecture skills on Bandit when it's my turn, addressing his habit of giving me split ends on my beard."

Now Olivia giggled and they were able to enjoy themselves in the book outlet. Bobby whispered to her when he spied something on a clearance shelf; while Olivia looked puzzled, she added the item to her short stack; once back in the CRV, Alex laughed when she saw what Bobby had egged the child into buying for her: a small baseball retrospective booklet on Derek Jeter. "Your mother," he had told her solemnly, "once wanted him to rub her feet."

Olivia recognized this as one of their private jokes and rolled her eyes.

"I hope the sofa's comfortable," Alex added. "Since this is just two overnights, it's more economical. For a long vacation I'd reserve a two-bedroom."

"It's fine," Olivia said, patting the mattress. "Just not as good as home."

"What will you name your unicorn?" Bobby asked, picking up the stuffed creature.

"'Donna,' of course!" and Alex laughed.

"When I paid for this at that antique booth, I didn't notice it still had a tag on it," Bobby observed, upending the unicorn to reveal a tiny plastic envelope with a purple and yellow logo tied under the unicorn's tail with white ribbon. Alex's eyes widened in surprise as she leaned forward.

"I don't believe it—Eddie had one of those! His was a dinosaur. He had a...a dog, too. Eleanor collected about ten of them...it's a PetPalz, right?"

Bobby handed Alex the unicorn as she brightened in recognition. "It does still have an unopened tag! I'm pretty sure the game still exists, too. You can 'adopt' this little unicorn on their website, Olivia, using the number on the tag, and give it a name. The virtual pet looks like the stuffed animal, and it comes with a room. Then you decorate the room with virtual furniture and feed it virtual food you buy with PetCash. If you don't keep it fed it gets unhappy." Olivia looked at her curiously. "It was very popular about ten or eleven years ago. Your cousins Eddie and Ellie both had some. You earn virtual PetCash doing chores and playing arcade games...it comes with lots of games. There...was a logic puzzle and a maze and of course something like Jewels where you lined up groups of three or more...oh, and a Tetris-type game. I was pretty good at the cornfield protection game—you kept the crows off by shooting a water cannon at them–"

She stopped, then laughed at herself. Bobby and Olivia looked amused at the sentimental memories she had dredged up about her nephew and niece. "Go ahead, make fun of me. Eddie and I had a lot of fun playing games together. I remember how we designed a baseball-themed room for the dinosaur."

Olivia's laptop was open next to her, so she tapped the URL into her browser. "You're right, Mama, the game is still there. I could play it. We could play it together."

"I'm probably not that good at targeting crows anymore," Alex chuckled.

"I bet you are," Bobby countered. He had his chin resting on his hand, thinking back to a younger Alex's surrogate motherhood for her sister with a nostalgic smile. She eyed him. Then he straightened up. "All right, Min, log off, and I'll put your laptop up. We have an early start tomorrow."

"No second chapter?" Olivia asked, disappointed.

"Just sleep," Alex said, rising from the chair.

"Let me post my blog entry, please," Olivia requested, then asked with her head tilted, "Do you want to read it first?"

It was an obvious ploy for additional time, but they indulged her the few minutes it took to read the selection that reviewed their day. They'd both been concerned when she asked to continue blogging after the book tour ended and agreed only with the stipulation that she reveal nothing personal and that comments would be moderated and approved by themselves. So far, there had been no questionable comments but rather friendly reactions from family and friends.

Once the entry was posted and the laptop put away, Alex tucked Olivia in on one side, Bobby on the other, smoothed her curls, and kissed her good night. "See you in the morning."

Lastly, Alex bade Bandit good night and covered the front of his cage before turning out the light. "Good night, Olivia."

"G'night, Mama. 'night, Papa. Good night, Sam. Good night, Bandit–"

"Good night, John-Boy," Bobby added with an arch of his eyebrows.

"Huh?" murmured Olivia.

"We'll explain it to you in the morning," said Alex.

It was suppertime when the CRV pulled into the lane leading to the farmhouse, but the grey structure was brilliantly lit awaiting them, porch lights shining on an autumn leaf wreath hung on the front door and the two fat pumpkins to either side of it. Bobby pulled around to the back door, where the light on the covered stoop illuminated dried cornstalks and multicolor Indian corn tied to the upright supports as harvest decorations.

His cousin Molly, home from California where she was attending college, burst outside wearing only a sweater despite the chill, shouting a greeting. Bobby leaned back wearily as he shifted into park, and Molly opened the passenger side door, where Alex was cradling Bandit's carry box.

"You must be so tired!" the dark-haired girl said first thing. "Here, let me take the bird inside, where he'll be warm so you won't have to worry. Come on, Bandit. I'll put you near the television."

Her brother Paul, almost as tall as Bobby, hurried outside next in shirtsleeves, practically snatching the keys from Bobby's fingers, calling over his shoulder, "C'mon, Dad, let's get all the luggage inside."

The children's father, Bobby's cousin Alexander, always known as "Sandy," added, "Good to see you back, Bob. Can't wait to spend more time with the munchkin."

And last came Bobby's Aunt Agnes, bustling out as quickly as her legs could carry her, in a hand-knitted multicolor sweater that looked like a rainbow had exploded. Nearly 80, she still scorned using a cane except on her "bad days" with arthritis, like Alex's sister Lizzie, and the first words out of her mouth were, "Where is that blessed child?"

Bobby spared her a tired grin after she gave him a fierce hug. "I'm afraid, Aunt Agnes, that 'the blessed child' is fast asleep."

Indeed she was, pillowed on Sam's warm stomach, having unbuckled her seat belt without asking permission. Bobby reached inside, murmuring to her, "We're here, Min. Put your arms around my neck."

Only half awakened, she did, and he lifted her from the car; then Sam abandoned the rear seat to romp with Micah, the sable and white farm collie, who had watched the proceedings with bright amber eyes.

An hour later, they were all stretched before the crackle and warmth of a sweet-smelling applewood fire in the stone fireplace that took pride of place in the comfortable parlor, Bandit's cage set up on its tray again with the budgie chirbling along to the conversation. Earlier they'd been fed hot beef and barley soup from big mugs in the sprawling farm kitchen, and now Bobby was relaxing in Sandy's big armchair, and Alex sitting tailor-fashion near him on one end of the long burgundy plush sofa, tapping out a "we have arrived"/happy Thanksgiving message to her sister.

Olivia occupied the other end of the generous sofa, snuggled next to Aunt Agnes with Captain, the little stuffed fox, on her aunt's knee. Agnes Fry absently stroked the animal with one gnarled hand as she asked Olivia questions about school and Milbury and her books. The television played in the background with Jeopardy onscreen with subtitles, but no one was paying much attention.

"So what do you think?" Bobby asked later with a glint in his eye as he finished reading a chapter from The Wind in the Willows. "Does Aunt Agnes like you?"

Olivia blushed and bit her lip, and he finished softly, "I think she already loves you very much."

"So, what's it like being a mother rather than an aunt?" Agnes Fry prompted while Bobby did Olivia's nightly bedtime reading.

Alex was in the armchair now, sipping the tea Bobby's aunt had made for her, thinking a minute. "Very busy," she summed up the last eight months with a smile.

"And that suits you?"

"I like being busy," Alex admitted, "but I could have done without the drama last month."

Agnes, white and silver hair already braided neatly for the night, scowled at the anxiety certain people had put her nephew's family through.

"Bobby doing okay?"

"Remember how I told you last year about his spoiling me? Well, now he's doing the same with Min. There's no refusing her a book at least! The house looks even more like a public library now."

"Bobby always did want to be a better father—and husband—than my brother was." Aunt Agnes shook her head, troubled. "I wish I could go back and whack some sense into Bill just for what he put Frances through. That poor woman! Gard," she added, referring to her late husband Gardner, "once thought about flying to New York and giving him a piece of his mind. Frances would have none of it. She'd call me every so often when she was...what do I say? Rational? She'd tell me about Frank and Bobby, bragging about Bobby's grades, and if I asked where Billy was, it was always the same old story: away on a sales trip. There were times I wondered if he stayed home long enough to get his laundry done. There she was, raising two boys with all her problems, while Billy was off gallivanting. And I think of how I admired my brother when I was young! Swankiest dresser in the county. Turned out to be the biggest tomcatter, too."

"I had an aunt who was a violent alcoholic," said Alex thoughtfully. "We can't pick our relatives. And sometimes people change for the worse when they leave home. Bobby and I saw so many young people whose lives went topsy-turvy upon leaving home, and not all of it was from bad choices."

"I'm just sad that we lost touch with the boys after Billy died, and that it took Frances' funeral to get us back together. I never knew some of the things Bobby and Frank had been through, or that Frank had been down such a tragic rabbit hole." She paused, and Alex could tell she had debated asking the next question. "Alex, be straight with me. How is it that you knew Olivia's mother? Bobby's always gone around Robin Hood's barn when I asked about it. I don't believe she was a 'friend' as you always say around Olivia–"

Alex paused to collect her words; she and Bobby had almost immediately set ground rules for talking about Olivia's mother to "civilians" unaware of Madeleine Haynes' true identity, including never referring to her as Nicole Wallace except with the few people who knew the facts. Even with Aunt Agnes, there were certain truths she would not reveal.

"She was someone we almost arrested," Alex admitted, and the older woman blinked at her, incredulous. "I know. It was 'almost' arrested," and here she made air quotes, "because she kept getting away from us. The first time she skipped town before we could get to her, the second..."

"The second! How many crimes did she–"

Alex explained flatly, "She was obsessed with Bobby. Very smart—you might say she was Bobby's evil twin—and wanted to match wits him, and hopefully best him. She very nearly did once. Unfortunately, her childhood set the stage for her future—as a little girl she was raped by her father and that went on for several years; later she fell in with a man who taught her how easy it was to kill and that she shouldn't feel guilty about it." Alex averted her eyes slightly, avoiding the look of horror on Agnes' face, and decided not to mention Nicole Wallace's murder of her firstborn. "One of the last times we met her, she had agreed to marry a widower, not as much because she loved him but more because she loved his daughter. We thought she wanted to kill the little girl, only to find out he was the prospective murderer instead, for money held in his daughter's trust. She told Bobby–"

Alex paused, thinking of Bobby's mentioning the catch in Nicole's voice when she discussed it with him. "She told him she thought mothering the child would 'cure' her of her...tendencies. It surprised us...Bobby told her straight out that she would never be a good mother, that she only attracted people like herself, but it turned out after we arrested the girl's father that she did right by Gwen and took her to live with an aunt in Arizona. Then she vanished, and we thought she was dead—well, that's another story.

"The next time she surfaced was after Bobby left Major Case, an inquiry from a police detective in France; she was having an affair with a French politician—a married man—and was pregnant." Alex skipped the rest of Nicole's improbable story, which they had learned nineteen months earlier, involving drugs, Bobby, and an ill-fated hotel stay. "I think...I truly think she was determined to make good...or maybe just to make a liar out of Bobby. Prove to him that she could be a good mother. Maybe even rub his nose in it. But it turned out she'd fallen in love with her baby daughter as well as the man who fathered her. The same man whose car she died in on the way to the French Alps."

Agnes was silent for almost a minute, her face sober. "I don't know how either of you did it for so many years," she declared, abruptly rising, taking Alex's empty teacup from her, her face still pale, a catch in her voice, "interacting with selfish, greedy, hateful people every single day. Seeing such unhappiness and brutality."

Alex said quietly, "Because of people like you...and Sandy and your grandchildren–"

And Bobby, at the door to the parlor, finished, "By concentrating on those people. Knowing we were eliminating one more threat to one more innocent person. It's what made it all worth it, every single case."

Here his aunt set the cup down on an end table and enveloped him in a hug. "You blessed boy."

"Only lately, Auntie," and his eyes met Alex's. "Two years and one month."

"No," Agnes Fry said firmly, "always. You took everything life could throw at you, Bobby, and endured and thrived. Alex told me you bent but never broke. You were blessed with a tenacity and heart most folks will never know." She patted his arm. "You did good."

From Two Worlds (fromtwoworlds.blogger.com)

November 24, 2023-2024
Thanksgiving

I'm writing tonight from Lebanon, Michigan, while we visit Papa's Aunt Agnes (sister of Papa's father) for Thanksgiving Day and the day after. She owns an organic farm, which used to be a dairy farm. Now she and her son Sandy (Alexander) raise goats to make goats' milk products and Merino sheep for wool to make hand-dyed yarn, Wool by Frys (Paul, her grandson, does this in the dye-barn). My cousin Molly, Paul's sister, is home this week from her unI in California; she plans to become a criminalist just like Dr. Grissom, who we talked about in our book tour blog. I met Aunt Agnes on the book tour, but now I have a chance to "get to know her" and the family.

Yesterday, we had a huge dinner at noon after watching the Macy's Parade on television—I asked if we could go in person someday and Mama looked horrified, but Papa said he would ask Aunt Patty, who lives near the parade route. All the food was locally sourced, even the turkey. Papa made gravy and also whipped butternut squash with walnuts. There were also carrots, green beans (nasty), creamed onions, stuffing, something called ambrosia (click for recipe) that Aunt Agnes learned to make when she went to unI in Georgia (very sweet!), and ham along with the turkey! For dessert, there were four types of pie: pumpkin, apple, shoofly (we brought that from Pennsylvania—the filling is mostly demerara sugar and even sweeter than the ambrosia), and rhubarb. I tried bits of everything, and we packed meals for a neighbor who is ill and another who is housebound.

Then Mama insisted we take a long walk because she felt like a Macy's float.

Sam loves it here. He's been running loose with the farm dog Micah—they chase rabbits—and Papa has to brush him and clean his paws twice daily. We had a proper tour of the farm while dinner was cooking. All the nannies (female goats) and ewes (female sheep) are, Sandy says, "a month along" and will probably give birth in March. Sandy keeps a horse named Bessie as a pet, but also uses her to plow the family truck garden, just like the Amish farmer in Lancaster. Even on Thanksgiving Day, Sandy, Paul, and Molly had to tend the animals before sunrise. Staying on a farm is fun, but I wouldn't want to live on one. I'd rather sleep late and read. :-)

Tomorrow we leave for home. I hope it doesn't rain so we can stop for a short time to see Gettysburg, a famous town from American Civil War history. A huge battle was fought there that basically "turned the tide of the war" (this is from Papa as we are not up to the Civil War yet in history class; we just finished the Mexican-American War), and there are memorials everywhere. Abraham Lincoln, the president at the time, gave a famous speech there called "The Gettysburg Address"... [click to continue]

Comments:

Ana Serrano: Blog and history lesson all at once!

Cerise Whittaker: Oh, no, school during vacation! (Just kidding, Olivia!) You did apply for the history club, right?

"We'll see you at Christmas," Aunt Agnes told Olivia briskly, repeating information they already knew but prolonging the final moments as the very last item—Bandit in his little carry box wrapped in flannel—was transferred into Alex's already overloaded Honda, "come hell or high water, as Grandma Goren used to say. Amahd down the road will tend the farm so we can all have a real vacation—Sandy found a hotel close by, a Wyndham. I'm looking forward to a week of no chores! And we've heard about your Nochebuena party and Mrs. Diaz' delightful food! Alex's sister was so kind to invite us to Christmas dinner, and I'm looking forward to riding the train, too! I haven't been on one in ages."

"Goodbye, Auntie Agnes," Olivia said, giving her one last hug.

"You remember now," Agnes Fry said, bending over Olivia before closing the rear door of the car, "if you ever want a vacation from these two," and she inclined her chin toward Bobby and Alex in the front seats, "or just hanker for the country life, our door's always open."

"Yes, Auntie Agnes." Olivia glowed happily. "Did you mean it about naming one of the ewe lambs after me?"

"I did, and the next time you visit we'll put a bow on it to let you know which it is."

Sam stood up in the back seat and attempted to give Agnes Fry one final lick, and the woman tousled the collie's ears before withdrawing and closing the door. "And you drive carefully, Robert Goren! We're not New York City cabbies out here!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said obediently before seeing her off with another kiss at the driver's side window. "I'm lucky Eames let me drive at all, but that's only thanks to Mr. Flirt."

"Hi!" Bandit piped up.

Finally, she circled the vehicle to give Alex a peck on the cheek. "Take care. You've got your hands full with these two."

Alex raised her chin with a wry grin. "Oh, I've got their number. I'm good. Thank you for everything, Aunt Agnes."

As the CRV made its way down the lane, Olivia gave an audible sigh.

Alex sympathized, "I know, sweetie. Leaving is always the toughest."

Bobby gave her a sideways smile, then quoted as he had months earlier, "'Sancho! My armor, my sword!'"

Alex flashed a grin, recalling the first day of the book tour. "'More misadventures?'"

"'Adventures, old friend,'" he assured as he pulled onto the highway.