“When was that written? The waltz, I mean?” Robby took the music box from Andy’s hand and looked to see if a date was inscribed anywhere.
Andy frowned. “I don’t know, maybe the late 1870s or 1880s. He died in 1893 of cholera.”
Robby looked at him quizzically. “How come you know so much?”
“He’s my mother’s favorite composer. You know, he was gay.”
“Who isn’t?” Robby jested.
Andy looked at him expectantly, but Robby didn’t explain. “Well, the date of the music doesn’t tell us a thing,” Ivy interrupted. “Once a piece of music is written, it can be added to something at any time. The egg could be from Imperial Russia, or it could be from the 1960s.”
The two boys nodded sagely.
“That’s why we need to take this on Antiques Roadshow,” said Robby.
“It sure looks like an Imperial Egg by Fabergé,” Andy observed.
Both Robby and Ivy chorused, “No!”
“It can’t be. It’s just a reproduction or a fake or something,” Ivy pronounced.
“Like I said, that’s why we need to take this on the show,” said Robby again.
ANDY TURNED to Ivy. “Mrs. Beaumont? May I ask you a question?”
Ivy looked back at him. “Well, of course you can. And that’s Ivy, not Mrs. Beaumont. What is it, young man?”
Smiling discreetly at Ivy’s use of “young man,” which never failed to please him, Andy asked, “Were you ever married? Do you have any children? I’ve never heard Robby mention any cousins, not by you anyway.”
Ivy stopped fiddling with the device and put her forefinger to her chin. She smiled, remembering something lovely. “Why, yes, my dear. I was married. For over thirty years to a wonderful man named Ernest. That’s what he was, earnest. But no children. We always had cats. Mr. Duck was just a kitten when Ernest passed away. I think sometimes his sweet, loving nature is a remnant of Ernest’s spirit.” Her eyes grew pensive. “What a good, sweet man he was. He was ill for much of the end of his too-short life. We slept in separate bedrooms toward the end because of it. I didn’t want to be parted from Ernest, but he insisted. I wanted to keep him at home, so I retired from teaching to look after him.”
Andy realized Ernest’s bedroom must be the closed door at the end of the hall that Robby had never invited him into. He wanted to reach out and touch Ivy on the arm but held back. “How long ago did he…?”
Ivy looked into his eyes and smiled impishly. “Die? You can say that word in this house. He died just eight years ago. I went into his room in the morning to find he had passed peacefully in his sleep. Mr. Duck was snuggled in between his legs. He, the cat I mean, looked up at me as I came in, a puzzled look on his face, like he was saying, ‘Something’s wrong with Dad.’ I realized Ernest was gone.” She looked over to where Mr. Duck was sitting in the doorway of her office. “I went over to give Ernest one last little peck on the lips. Mr. Duck got up and snuggled on his still chest. He is such a kissy duck, er, I mean cat. But this time he just looked at Ernest’s face. Then he looked up at mine, and I leaned over to let him press his forehead to mine, the way he kisses. Mr. Duck, I mean. Then he got down and went off to find a nice warm cat bed to sleep in.”
Now Andy did put his hand on Ivy’s arm. “Oh, Ivy, I’m so sorry.”
Ivy’s eyes took on a light from within. “You shouldn’t be. We had so many years together with our many cats. Our marriage went through all the phases it could, from early adventures abroad to sitting quietly and holding hands. The night before he died, he asked me if I regretted anything at all in my life. I laughed and told him that I only regretted saying good-bye to all our cats over the years. I asked him the same. He said, ‘Not a thing, and I’ll tell all those cats how much you loved them when I see them again in the Summerland.’”
“Summerland?”
Ivy put a hand to Andy’s cheek. “We were never Christians, in spite of my working all those years for the archdiocese. The Summerland is from older traditions, where people and animals are together and there is no war, no hunger, no jealousy, no differences between races or religions or genders or anything. I hope someday when I die, I will find Ernest and all our cats there waiting for me.”
Andy stood, his mouth hanging open, so moved by this representation that when Robby came back in, he asked, “What happened? What did I miss?”
Andy and Ivy both smiled at him. “Nothing,” they chorused.
Robby looked from one to the other, then shrugged. “Whatever,” he said.
ANDY FOUND instructions online to request tickets for a taping of the Antiques Roadshow on May 15. They filled out the applications online, and Aunt Ivy checked the box to indicate she had a piece to be appraised. She smiled and said, “Now we wait for a postcard saying they are interested in my egg.”
In the meantime the Highlands View High Quiz Kids team was scheduled for its last competition. They had one by one beaten every other high school in the district, then the county, and now they were going to state trials. It would also be held in April in Olympia.
“Now I can start worrying about my old classmates recognizing me,” Andy shared.
“What’s the likelihood?”
Andy shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”
Robby looked at his friend, feeling the emotions he always inspired these days—affection and a little protectiveness, like he was a big brother.
He reached for Andy’s shoulder and squeezed it. “If anyone says anything, they’ll have to answer to me.”
Giving him an amused smirk, Andy said “Oh, big tough man, champion for all the oppressed.”
They spent every evening together, either at Robby’s, Andy’s, or Aunt Ivy’s house, studying for the final event. Aunt Ivy’s house was a mixed blessing. She could be quite a distraction, bringing over new treasures she’d found and expounding at length on their historical significance. On the other hand, she seemed to know everything. When either Robby quizzed Andy, or Andy was the one who asked a question about science, history, literature or some other likely Quiz Kids question, Aunt Ivy’s voice would come through from another room with the correct answer. At first it was okay; then it started to get irritating. Finally they would both stop, look over their shoulders, wait for Ivy’s answer, then fall into laughter at how reliable she was.
Mr. Duck stuck close to them whenever they were at Ivy’s house. He was even waiting by the door one time when they arrived. He would follow them either to the parlor or the kitchen, find a place to station himself on another chair, and seem to be listening while they discussed a question.
Robby found the time he spent with Andy was the most comfortable and rewarding of his life. He enjoyed spending time at Andy’s house, with Mrs. Kahn always coming in with cookies or cake and Mr. Kahn’s proud smile when he looked at his son. Even Gabe was a treat, looking in with some joke or another about what they were studying. He could see how Andy got so smart and so clever.
After studying they would have a cup of herbal tea and talk. Or, if they’d been studying at Aunt Ivy’s, he would walk Andy home and hold his hand. The shy smiles back and forth were among the sweetest things about their time together.
That is, until one evening when they approached Andy’s condo and didn’t notice a car running its engine across the street.
“Look at the faggots holding hands!” came a boy’s voice from the open front window of the car.
“They can’t be faggots, because Andrea’s a he-she,” said another boy from the backseat.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Andy lamented. “You’d think after most of a school year, they’d have gotten something new to do or been expelled or something.”
Robby glared furiously at the car. “That’s enough!” he declared, dropping Andy’s hand to stride across the street.
“Robby, no!” Andy cried.
Robby went to the front window of the car and found himself looking straight into the sneering face of Smartass.
�
�Ooh, it’s lover boy. Found what Andy has in his shorts yet?”
Robby stood with his hands on his hips. “Look, Bradley, I don’t know what it is you have between your ears, but you probably should demand your money back. It’s pretty pathetic.”
One of Smartass’s friends, Grease, said from the open back window, “That’s more than you have in your pants!”
Robby leaned over to peer into the car. “Claire, are you in there?”
There was no answer, but while he was leaning over, Smartass reached out, grabbed his collar, and pulled him forward so he struck his head on the window frame.
“Cut that out!” came a grown man’s voice. Andy had gone into his condo and told his father what was happening outside. “I called the cops. They’ll be here any minute.”
Grease said, “Shit, let’s go.”
Smartass said, “You gonna let this kike scare you?”
Grease answered, “No, but I’m gonna let my dad scare me out of a trip to Disneyland if I get busted.”
Smartass relented, spit on Robby, and put his foot to the accelerator and took off.
Mr. Kahn said, “Charming.” As he led Andy and Robby back to the other side of the street, he added, “Your principal will get an earful about this—”
“No, Dad,” Andy interrupted. “You don’t understand. If they know you ratted on them, Robby and I will get our asses kicked at school.”
Mr. Kahn turned to his son and said severely, “Andrew, you can’t let bullies like that control you.”
“I can if they outnumber me.”
Robby watched Mr. Kahn and Andy spar about the hoods who had been taunting them.
“They’re all talk. They’re just trying to piss us off. They aren’t going to do anything dangerous.” Andy’s desperation was palpable.
His father was adamant. “That’s the sort of thinking that got Jews killed by the millions in Nazi Germany.” In a singsong voice, he mimicked, “They won’t hurt any Jews. They just like to paint slogans on shop windows and put dead cats on your doorstep.”
Andy rolled his eyes. “Dad!” he protested.
Robby started to back away. “I should get home,” he said.
Mr. Kahn looked over at him and then back at Andy. “You should go inside too. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Andy gave Robby a long-suffering look and went into the condo. His father, after a quick good-bye to Robby, followed him.
Back at their apartment, Robby checked to see if Claire was home. She was. She answered the knock on her bedroom door with “Yeah?”
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. “You weren’t with Smartass and his boys tonight, eh?”
She leveled a resentful look at him. “That’s none of your business.”
“As long as they torment Andy, it’s my business.”
She had been sitting at her computer playing Bubble Shooter, but now she closed the program and turned around to face him in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. “Oh, are you Andy’s keeper?”
He glared at his sister. “I just have to stick up for him. Your buddies not only called him a faggot, but a kike tonight.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” she challenged.
“Just think about who your friends are. I don’t think Mom would—”
“Oh, Mom Shmom. You’ve just got a boner for that freak. You fly off the handle if anyone so much as questions what he—what she is. All the special provisions they had to make at school for her. Separate showers, a different rule about swimwear in gym. Everyone carefully watching which gender pronoun they use about… it. I swear, people like that want the world just so they can play their little dress-up games.”
Robby was floored by his sister’s vehemence. “Wow, where did all that come from?”
She whirled on him from where she had turned to her monitor again. “You! That’s where. You used to be so quiet and nice. Now I feel like the Inquisition is always at my door.”
“If you chose better company—”
“You should talk!” she screeched at him. “Now get out! I don’t want to talk to you.”
She came over and physically shoved him out her door, slammed it, and locked it behind him. He thought he probably should have told her Mr. Kahn was calling the police. Ah, to hell with her. Too bad if she got arrested again.
“ROBBY, DO you have a safe at your house?” Aunt Ivy asked him a couple of days later.
“No, we don’t. What do you need it for?” he inquired of her.
“We have one,” said Andy, who had come over to his aunt’s house with Robby.
Aunt Ivy brought over the small wooden box the music-box egg was kept in. “Can you put this in there until the day of the Roadshow? I would feel a lot better.”
Robby grinned. “So now you think the thing is valuable?”
“No, not really, but I just have a feeling….”
“What sort of feeling, Ivy?” Andy asked her, putting a hand gently on her arm.
Ivy gave him a grateful smile. “That someone wants it, and I want to find out about it before… well, before it disappears.”
The two boys exchanged looks.
“Aunt Ivy, has anyone said anything or shown special interest in the egg or anything?” Robby was concerned.
“No, not really. Like I said, it’s just a feeling.”
“Okay, I’ll take it home and put it in our safe. Dad will have to open it for me, but he’s reliable.” Andy took the box and put it in his backpack.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” Robby offered. “I’ve got the car this evening.”
“Oh, is your sister in trouble again?” Aunt Ivy asked. “I don’t know what’s gotten into that girl. She was always so sweet and polite.”
“No, I just asked for the car, and she didn’t need it tonight.”
Robby waited for Ivy to leave the room and asked, “So, did your dad call the principal?”
Andy sighed deeply. “Yes, he did. I’m afraid to go to school. He called the police too, but they just blew him off. I don’t think the principal did anything either.”
Andy looked down. “I don’t know. I know I told my dad that I thought they were all talk, but I’m not really so sure. They almost pantsed me that time. That was a long time ago, but the looks I get from Smartass really scare me sometimes. He likes to come up to me and rub his groin on my butt. And he’s felt for my boobs when we’re in the locker room. I don’t know if he’s a perv. There’s just something—not right about that dude.”
“Well, one good thing,” Robby said.
“That is?”
“I don’t think Claire is hanging out with them anymore. I noticed she’s always home, always studying. I’ve had the car a lot lately. Mom is pleased. She—I mean Claire—tore me a new one the other day, but though she would never admit it, I think she’s had quite enough of her lowlife friends.”
MR. KAHN showed a lot of interest in the music box when he took it from Andy to put into their little safe on the floor of his den. “It’s exquisite! Where did she say she got it?”
Just then his mother came in. “What have you got there?”
Mr. Kahn opened the egg and let the music play for a few moments.
“That’s the waltz from Onegin! I love it!” Mrs. Kahn effused.
“Look at it, Ruth. Doesn’t it look like a Fabergé egg?”
Mrs. Kahn took the device, shut the egg, and examined it.
Andy shared, “She said she got it at some junk shop, I think. It was filthy and had to be carefully cleaned.”
“I don’t know. Fabergé eggs don’t grow on trees. I’m sure it’s a reproduction.” Mrs. Kahn put it back in its box so her husband could put it in the safe. “It is quite beautiful, though.”
“Why does she want it put in a safe?” Andy’s father asked.
“She just has a weird feeling that someone is going to try to steal it. She’s an old lady and kind of nuts. In a nice way,” Andy concluded.
Mr. K
ahn said, “Well, there it is, all safe and sound in my… safe!” He pushed the metal door shut and turned the knob to make it harder to open again.
Chapter 14
ROBBY MET Andy at the front door of his aunt’s house. “Hey, there… you ready to play detective?” Andy joked.
They had decided it was time to solve the mystery that had at first seemed like his aunt was losing her marbles but later became clear was really happening. Robby decided that when Ivy wasn’t home, he and Andy should take up posts in the house, but of course they couldn’t do that when school was in session. Since Ivy reported the petty thefts and returns were continuing on a regular basis, they knew the thief was still at it, though on a sinister note Ivy also reported a couple of things had never been replaced. They were apparently gone forever, so maybe they’d truly been stolen.
“Good thing we have a day for the teachers to do their paperwork. Maybe whoever is doing this won’t know that, and maybe he, or she, will take a chance and come in to sneak around,” Robby suggested.
They let themselves into the house. It was perfectly silent. Ivy had been gone all morning. “I hope we didn’t just miss the culprit,” Andy sighed.
“I know. It’s such a half-baked plan, but it’s the best we can do.” Robby started to look around the foyer. “I wonder where we should hide?”
Andy put his forefinger to his chin. “Mmmm… where have most of the items gone missing from?
Robby answered, “The parlor or the dining room?”
The two walked into the front room that Ivy called her parlor.
“Lots of stuff in here,” Andy said. He started to list the items that had gone missing. “The things on the mantel, like the coin, the old books, the set of commemorative spoons, the little Jane Austen dolls….”
Robby nodded. “And don’t forget the little paintings of the cocker spaniels.”
“Let’s go into the dining room.” Andy led the way into the overcrowded room. “With all this furniture in here, I don’t know how the burglar could even get around.” He walked to the big china cabinet and slid a forefinger alongside the glass in the door. “Weren’t the tarot cards in here?” There were a lot of little things on all the shelves. “But it’s locked, right?”
A Fine Bromance Page 11