The Contract

by Jerry D. Young

  “I have no idea what that boy is up to. His attorney has papers… Now he must see the Commodore.” Mrs. MacDougal sighed.

  “He has been so active the last few days. I think you have been a good influence on him.”

  Sara looked stunned.

  “We will all be sorry to see you leave, Miss Sara,” Mrs. MacDougal continued. “I know you have to go back with your mother. It has been nice having a young lady here.”

  Sara felt herself tearing up. For no reason she could think of. “That is sweet of you to say, Mrs. MacDougal. I do appreciate everything the staff has done. I just hope whatever he has come up with will include some way for me to repay your kindness. Particularly since I do have to go back to Indiana. For the moment, all I can do is say, Thank you.”

  “More than adequate, Miss,” Mrs. MacDougal replied. “Now. What would you like for Duchess to prepare for your mother? You said you would like to take some-thing up to her after supper. It seems that you are finished. Despite having eaten no more than a little bird.”

  Sara sighed. “I am just not hungry, as good as this was.”

  She glanced over at the door leading to the kitchen, before glancing up at Mrs. MacDougal. “What I planned… was to fix Mother a fried egg sandwich. Do you think it would hurt Duchess’ feelings if I did that?”

  “Of course not,” Mrs. MacDougal said with a sudden smile. “It will not hurt her feelings. She simply will not let you do it. Nor am I inclined to ask her to.”

  Sara looked totally at a loss.

  “What I will do, however, is take you into the kitchen, so you can describe exactly what you want Duchess to prepare for your mother.”

  Sara followed Mrs. MacDougal into the kitchen, knowing the suggestion was as close as she was going to get to her original plan.

  “About the same as the plan for getting out of here yesterday,” she muttered to herself.

  Sara was smiling as she carried the tray up to her mother’s room. Mrs. Mac-Dougal and Duchess had been funny in the kitchen, arguing over the best way to make a simple fried egg sandwich. It was prepared just as Sara had asked, but the process had been enjoyable, being with the two women.

  Her smile faded when Sara entered her mother’s bedroom. Mrs. Lee was awake, as Sara had expected. And, as usual in similar circumstances, she was none too pleasant to her daughter.

  “I thought I was going to have to come down and find something myself. I told you I wanted something immediately.”

  Sara did not even think of correcting her mother. It simply would make the mood worse.

  “I am sorry, Mother. I did not want to disturb your sleep. I brought it up as soon as I thought you would be awake.”

  “No matter. Just put it down and go get me a Bloody Mary.”

  “But, Mother…”

  “Why do I have to tell you everything two or three times, Sara? I am your mother. Just do as I say!”

  “Yes, Mother,” Sara said, her voice low.

  Juliet saw Sara leave her mother’s room and pause to wipe away at her eyes.

  After a few moments, when Sara had started toward the stairs, Juliet called to her. “Miss Sara! Can I help you with anything for Mrs. Lee? I was just coming to see if you wanted me to bring up a supper tray.”

  “Thank you, Juliet. Mrs. MacDougal and Duchess prepared something. I just brought it up. Mother wants a… I need to make a Bloody Mary.”

  Sara’s eyes were on hallway floor as they walked along slowly.

  “Sure thing, Miss Sara. I make a great Bloody Mary. I tended bar for a couple years when I was working my way through college.”

  Sara looked up. “Really? That is interesting.”

  Juliet laughed. “Well, it can be. I could tell you stories… But, mostly it is like everything else. A job. I enjoyed it. Most of the time. Just like all the jobs I have done. Like this one. Though, with this one, most of the time is more than most of the time. There have only been a couple of times when it was not entirely enjoyable.”

  Again Sara’s eyes dropped. “Like now, I suspect,” she nearly whispered.

  “Now? Why would you say that? Having you here has been a plus.”

  “But…” Sara looked up the stairs as they turned toward the kitchen.

  “Do not worry about things like that, Miss Sara. None of us do. I know you have to leave, to help your mother, but I sure wish you could have found a way to stay around. I like having a girl…”

  Juliet cut a quick grin toward Sara, “Young lady, as Mrs. MacDougal would instruct me to say. Having a young lady to help. Master Jason is so easy to please, there is no real work involved.”

  “I hope I have not been too much trouble…” Sara was saying.

  “It is not like that,” Juliet replied, leading the way into the kitchen. “It is that everything is pretty much by rote. I have to think about what you might want or need. It keeps me on my toes. I actually like that.”

  “Everyone here seems to be on their toes all the time,” replied Sara.

  “We do have steady work, but there is plenty of time to relax, too.”

  Duchess and Mrs. MacDougal looked over. Duchess was doing dishes and Mrs. MacDougal was talking to her and Henrietta, who was trimming and arranging flowers at the other sink. Candy was rummaging in the refrigerator.

  “Mrs. Lee asked for a Bloody Mary. I informed Miss Sara of my experience as bartender in my younger days.”

  Candy made something of a rude sound, which drew a sharp glance from Mrs. MacDougal, but Duchess said, “Bartender. Humpf! Anyone can pour from a bottle. A mixologist… Now, that is a true calling. Like a chef, a mixologist is, in fact, a chemist.”

  This time it was Mrs. MacDougal that made the rude noise. Sara grinned. Somehow, Mrs. MacDougal’s rude noise was polite and regal, yet the message was the same.

  “Meat and potatoes and an ice cold beer. Hard to beat that, in my opinion.”

  It was the most words that Sara had heard Henrietta say.

  “You do have a point,” admitted Duchess as she began drying things and handing them to Candy to put away.

  “I will take this up,” Juliet said, placing the tall glass on a tray that she had just prepared.

  “I think, perhaps, I had better do it,” Sara said. “Mother really does not seem to be feeling well…”

  “If you wish, Miss Sara. But you buzz us if you need… or just want, something,” Mrs. MacDougal said.

  Sara nodded and left the kitchen with the Bloody Mary, leaving the tray on the counter.

  The others exchanged looks, but they knew they had little chance of influencing the situation to their satisfaction.

  Henrietta voiced the opinion they all shared and hoped was true. “Master Jason will figure out something.”

  Jason had barely pressed the door bell button when the front door of the Commodore’s house opened. “Good evening, Mrs. Erickson. I believe Commodore Erickson is expecting me.”

  “Of course, Jason. He is in his study. As usual. I must say, it has been some time since we were privileged to see you.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Erickson. I have not needed to do much about the trust. I do feel remiss for not coming by more, however.”

  “As well you should, boy,” came the quiet, authoritative voice as they entered the huge study.

  “Pay him no mind, Jason,” Mrs. Erickson said, going over to one of the leather wing chairs near the desk. She picked up the sewing basket that sat beside it and began to crochet.

  “The old grouch… is just an old grouch. You feel free to come by any time you wish. Or stay away.”

  “Humpf!” was the Commodore’s fond reaction to his wife’s comment.

  “Let’s have it, my boy,” he said, turning serious eyes toward Jason. Sally stopped by today to not tell me something. She finally left, after making small talk. I suspect this is connected. Must be important for Sally to be ambivalent.”

  “Miss Richardson is somewhat upset with what I have done, and am planning.” Jason handed
the Commodore the envelope containing the papers Sally Richardson had drawn up for him.

  He took a seat in the club chair facing the desk.

  “Do not slouch, dear,” Mrs. Erickson said, not looking up from her sewing.

  Jason was sitting up straight in the chair. He smiled when the Commodore ‘humpf’ed’ again and slouched even lower in the big executive chair as he began to read the papers Jason had given him.

  The half lens reading glasses the Commodore wore rode low on his nose. He would look down and read for a few moments, then lift his eyes to look over the top of the lenses at Jason, then drop his eyes again to read more.

  When he was finished with all the papers, not having said one word, he slid them toward the corner of the desk and said, “Martha, if you please.”

  Mrs. Erickson took the papers when Jason hurriedly rose, took them from the desk and handed them to her.

  Jason resumed his seat and simply waited, knowing the Commodore would start the discussion when ready. He did not squirm under the Commodore’s steady gaze, but it was a near thing.

  “My, my,” was Mrs. Erickson’s only comment. She stood and returned the papers to the desk, within reach of the Commodore. “I shall bring a pot of tea. This will be a tea occasion, I believe.”

  Again, Jason waited, knowing the Commodore would wait for his wife to return before beginning the conversation with Jason.

  When they each had a cup of tea handy, and Mrs. Erickson had again taken up her sewing, the Commodore finally spoke.

  “You need the shyster’s signature on the contract, and him out of your hair over the whole thing. He will be occupied trying to figure out a way to get his hands on what you have put just out of his reach. He is totally clueless about the Powerhouse Project. He gets a few bucks and is out of the picture until it is too late.

  “Is this girl going to be worth it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mrs. Erickson spoke without looking toward them.

  “No sex, and she does not even actually have to ever share your bed. Has she seen the contract?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Has her mother?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Has the shyster?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  Jason looked back at the Commodore when he spoke again.

  “Yet her mother signed blank guardianship papers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “I think she will bolt, as soon as she sobers up enough.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Erickson said. “That poor girl.”

  “Some would consider this indentured servitude. It is not slavery, since there is compensation, of a sort,” the Commodore said, musingly. He was now leaning back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.

  “I wish to meet her,” he said, turning back to look at Jason.

  “I knew you would have to, before you signed anything. I just wanted a chance to explain. I will ask her to come over here tomorrow to meet you.”

  “Now,” the Commodore said.

  “Henry?” asked Mrs. Erickson.

  “Now,” he repeated.

  “I will call and ask her,” Jason replied, evenly.

  Taking out his cellular telephone Jason called the house.

  The Commodore and Mrs. Erickson heard him sigh after he asked to speak with Sara. “I see. Please have Candy tell her that I have a solution, but I need her to come to Commodore Erickson’s.

  “And Mrs. MacDougal, assure her that I will find her mother for her so she can talk to her. It might take a few days, but I will do it.”

  “So she bolted already,” Commodore Erickson said.

  “This might not be a good time to spring this other on her,” Mrs. Erickson said.

  “I promised her,” Jason replied quietly, “that I would have a solution to her request for a quick way to pay off her debt.”

  “You think she will consider three years of high school, then a minimum of four years of college to get an architectural degree, quick?” asked the Commodore with a smile.

  “Henry,” admonished Mrs. Erickson, “do not tease the boy.”

  “Why not? I so seldom get the chance.”

  “That is true,” Mrs. Erickson replied. “Okay.”

  Jason saw the small smile on her face, though she had not looked toward him. She was still crocheting.

  The cellular telephone was still in Jason’s hand. He had the ringer set to vibrate so it would not disturb the Erickson’s.

  “Excuse me,” he said when he felt it ring.

  “Very good. I will tell them you are bringing her over.”

  “So,” the Commodore said, “Sara is coming over. Martha,” he added, looking over at his wife with a grin, “better secure the ship. Get the breakables put away. The next hour or so could get stormy.”

  “Hush, dear,” replied Mrs. Erickson.

  With a smile toward his wife, the Commodore pulled the papers back to him. Jason watched without comment as he sorted through them again, then signed four times with the desk set pen.

  Slipping the signed papers into an envelope he took from a desk drawer, he handed the packet to Jason and said, “Whatever happens tonight, you should go ahead and stick it to the shyster. On general principles. You can afford the money.”

  “I would, sir, but I might need the leverage later for some other reason.”

  “Good thinking, boy. Always have options.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They sat quietly until the doorbell rang again. The only sign of Jason’s mounting tension was his very slight start at the sound.

  Candy accompanied Mrs. Erickson and Sara to the study. Quietly she said, “I will wait with Qwendellyn.”

  “Thank you, Candy,” Jason said. He was standing by the chair in which he had been sitting.

  “Mrs. Erickson, Commodore Erickson, may I present Miss Sara Lee. Miss Lee, the Commodore and Mrs. Erickson.”

  Her face stony, Sara acknowledged the introductions.

  “Tea, my dear?” Mrs. Erickson asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  “This can wait,” Commodore Erickson said, the gentleness in his voice surprising even his wife.

  Sara shot an angry glance at Jason.

  Jason did not respond.

  “I understand that Jason made you a promise. And that time is running out for him to fulfill that promise.”

  “Yes, sir. I own him a great deal of money. I have no good way to repay him. He said he could come up with a plan to allow me to repay him, quickly.”

  “So he said,” the Commodore said. “As it is approaching nine, I will allow him to inform you of his plan.”

  “Perhaps we should allow them privacy for this, Henry,” Mrs. Erickson said, though she made no move to rise from her chair.

  “I think I prefer to stay and watch the fireworks.”

  That drew an annoyed glance from Sara, and even one from Jason, though he had not really expected them to leave.

  Sara began to glare at Jason.

  Knowing she was upset about her mother, and that her debt to him was a very real problem to her he began.

  “I would like to make the offer, first, for you to simply forget about any debt.”

  “No. I told you I would not, already.”

  “I know. I told you I believe in options. It was just one. You have already indicated that nine hours or so of work at the house was unacceptable…”

  “Yes. Especially now that I have to go back to Indiana with mother.”

  Jason said nothing about her mother having already left. “You refused to have sex with me as repayment.”

  Sara colored slightly, cutting looks at the Erickson’s, but neither said or did anything. She looked at Jason again as he continued.

  “That is right. And that is ironclad.”

  “Good girl,” Mrs. Erickson said.”

  Sara quickly cut her eyes around again. She saw Mrs. Erickson smiling in support.

  “
You refused to eliminate the debt by marrying me now.”

  “Also true. And ironclad.”

  “Good for you.” This came from the Commodore. “He is too young for marriage. As are you.”

  “We shall discuss your expression of this, and your failure to express the same opinion about sex later, dear,” Mrs. Erickson told the Commodore sternly.

  He frowned at her. “But I just meant…”

  “Later, dear.”

  “Yes, Martha.”

  “So,” Jason continued, having ignored the Erickson’s exchange. “You need a way to pay me back that is much faster than simple labor, but not as fast as a single session of sex or marriage.”

  Sara was glaring again. “Yes. So?”

  “That means that the solution is somewhere in the middle.”

  Sara suddenly felt herself about to cry. She was trying not to admit to herself that her mother had just taken off.

  “You promised!” she said. “Just tell me your solution.”

  “Please be patient for just a few more moments. Actually, I will let you name the solution, yourself.”

  Sara could not help herself. She leaped from the chair and stamped her foot, staring Jason in the face, toe-to-toe with him again. She ignored the interested looks that the Erickson’s were giving them. Without any interference in her actions.

  “You promised! That you would come up with something!”

  “What is the next thing to having sex, or marriage? That would be the quickest way, would it not, since those are the two quickest ways?”

  “What do you mean? The next thing to having sex or marriage? That would be sleeping together withou…”

  Sara fell silent. “You slug! That is almost as disgu…” Her words stopped again as she stared at him.

  Jason handed Sara the second set of papers.

  “My solution.”

  Sara just stared at him for a moment, then sat down and began reading.

  This time, Jason could not just sit. He went over to the fireplace and stood before.

  The Commodore and Mrs. Erickson exchanged glances, then Commodore Er-ickson stood and went to light the fire already built and ready.

  Jason stood with his back to the fire, hands clasped behind him. The Commodore was again in his executive desk chair, watching Sara read the contract. Mrs. Erickson, though not appearing to do so, was also watching Sara’s face.