“Then he must also know who they are, and why you felt compelled to take them in,” Ruthanne justified optimistically.
“Perhaps,” replied Gracie, her expression unreadable.
“You’re both thinking it; I’m going to say it,” clapped in Ellen. “That seems very unlikely knowing Jimmy as we do. It is a nice sentiment, but we all know Jimmy better than that.”
There was no immediate response to the remark, yet the faces of all three women spoke volumes.
“Well,” Gracie continued, “it appears we will know just how Jimmy feels soon enough.”
Ellen gulped.
“He’s coming home to Sandcastle tonight,” Gracie continued. “And he wants to have a ‘long, overdue chat’, as I recall his words.” Then she reflected somberly, tapping a wrinkled finger on her armrest.
Ruthanne and Ellen remained wordless; their expressions warped in apprehension.
“He was very cordial, actually,” Gracie added with a hint of surprise. “And it was I, not he, who broached the subject of the children during our brief exchange.”
“You better bet he’ll broach the subject when he arrives and meets them face to face.” Ellen grumbled.
Gracie shook her head. “I just don’t know. I mean . . . he seemed almost complacent with the whole ordeal.”
“Well,” Ellen said, standing. “We better get ready for the hammerhead. Who knows what kind of mood he’ll be in. Jimmy has been away for weeks. He’s going to want reports on everything.” She reached and took one last hit on her glass of juice. “I better let the boys know,” she anguished. “I swear! We go from one drama to the next! You’d think we’d get a break!” With that, she stomped across the room and stood at the elevator’s entrance. “Are you coming, Ruthy?”
Ruthanne turned to Gracie. “Evidently,” she whispered, and allowed a subtle grin. She rose, then rested a hand on Gracie’s arm. “Do not worry, Gracie. Deception on any level is wrong. Jimmy needs to know everything.”
Gracie nodded blankly and reached to rest her own hand on Ruthanne’s. “Somehow, I think he already does, dear.”
Ruthanne didn’t answer. She patted the woman’s arm then walked calmly to join the toe-tapping Ellen.
The elevator door swooshed open. Soon the room was still once more.
--
From the main foyer, the antique grandfather clock chimed its familiar melody. The tall, oak timepiece had performed with uncanny precision since the day Zen had purchased it for Gracie, on their fifth anniversary. Since that time, the clock’s soft, mellifluous tenor served to carry a warm sense of sublimity throughout the spacious entrance. But this evening was different. Instead, the tone came harsh, and was as an angst reminder that Jimmy would soon be arriving.
Gracie gazed at herself in the mirror for the tenth time. She was done up as perfect as a fancy wrapped gift, having culled through outfits for nearly an hour. She wanted to look her very best for Jimmy. After all, it had been sometime since the boy had come home to Sandcastle.
During their earlier conversation, she had even bolstered up enough courage to invite him to dinner—to meet the kids. She thought that would be a nice gesture. It had been a brazen invitation to be sure, and Gracie had half expected a cold response—a recrimination for her even mentioning such a gathering. But instead, Jimmy had been uncharacteristically pleasant. He had simply explained that he was anxious to meet Sam and Jessie, but that he would not be able to arrive in time for dinner.
Gracie had been utterly surprised, too surprised perhaps? She couldn’t help but recall Ellen’s earlier admonition: . . . that seems very unlikely knowing Jimmy as we do. And Ellen had a keen perception.
Yes, something was changed, was different in Jimmy. But was it genuine or some vicious game yet to unfold? It was this piercing uncertainty which fueled the gnawing ache now expanding within her. And to make her trepidation even worse, Jimmy had requested to meet with Gracie alone first, without the others present. This wasn’t necessarily an unexpected appeal; Jimmy often wanted to speak with his mother in private. But given the circumstances—the length of time he had been away, and the subsequent changes which had taken place—well, it just seemed unusual. And in truth, none of the Four were too thrilled about being sequestered to Avalon—the curiosity was killing them.
“I feel like we’ve left her all alone in the lion’s den,” said Ellen in a helpless sigh, her eyes looking upward.
Eli frowned. “Jimmy may be a churlish, spoiled child at times, but he certainly isn’t going to hurt his own mother.”
“Perhaps not physically,” added Ruthanne, “but he can inflict pain none the less, and has on other occasions.”
Jacob hopped up. “I’m heading up there!”
“No you’re not!” threatened Eli. “Sit yourself back down. We’re all being ridiculously immature ourselves. Gracie said that Jimmy was understanding when she spoke of Jessie and Sam.” He eyed his comrades intently. “I think he understands her actions, given that they are Tom’s grandchildren. Now we all need to calm down and resist the temptation to interfere, or eavesdrop on their conversation.”
Jacob suddenly brightened. His eyebrows rose and he grinned. “Hey, good idea. I never thought about that. We have video and audio—”
“No Jake! I mean it,” Eli pointing a loaded finger. “We all need to relax!”
“Eli is right,” Ruthanne interjected. “For whatever reason, Jimmy feels that he needs this time alone with his mother. He has that right.”
Jacob moaned, then fell back down in his chair, slouching more than usual. “I suppose you’re right. But if he makes her cry . . . I swear I’ll—”
“What?” probed Ellen. “You’ll what? Send a sentinel droid to pommel him? That’s the problem, Jacob, there’s not a thing we can do. Jimmy is still second in command around here . . . he acts like he’s supreme chief!”
A sudden sound blipped in from a nearby terminal.
Jacob bolted up like a bullet. The rest of the gang were close on his heels. They hurried from their seated patio to the IGS, contiguously situated in the center of the Avalon square. Soon, all four of them were standing anxiously around its circular perimeter. Upon proximity detection, the device had powered up automatically, and now displayed a 3D image of the first exterior checkpoint. Within seconds, the image of a black Mercedes Benz coalesced into view, its shiny veneer appearing pearl under the wash of bright security lighting. The vehicle had just pulled through the entrance.
“Jimmy’s here,” whispered Ellen. “Now the show really begins.”
--
Sam pulled at his tie and frowned. “This is so stupid!” he moaned. “It’s almost time for bed! Why do I have to dress up in a suit?”
Jessie exhaled, her patience stretched. “You‘re going to meet a very important person tonight,” she explained for the tenth time. She adjusted the boy’s collar and straightened his belt. “Gracie wants you to look your very best.”
“But I thought this person was just her son?” Sam droned.
“It is her son, and his name is Jimmy. But to you and I, it is Mr. Reitman. Got it,” she clarified, keenly.
“Yeah, sure,” Sam shrugged.
“Mr. Reitman has been working in Florida for the past month,” Jessie continued, bending to re-tie a sloppy shoelace. She stood, surveyed the boy’s arrangement one more time, then nodded her approval. “Just remember that we are trying to make a good impression. I get the feeling that Gracie is just a bit nervous about this meeting.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But from what Jacob has told me about the man, he’s none-to-friendly; not at all like the others we’ve met here.”
“Do you think he knows about us being in the solarium?”
“Sam!” Jessie snapped like a whip. “I told you never to speak of that again!” She eyed him angrily. “Never! You promised!”
The boy lurched unexpectedly. His eyes extended wide and his youthful countenance waned. “I’m sorry.
I forgot,” he muttered, his lips quivering.
Jessie instantly felt the stab of regret. She sighed sorrowfully and grabbed him up. She hugged him tightly for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I got so angry. But you can’t forget. You just can’t!” She pulled him into her gaze. “You must never speak of the solarium again. Remember what I said. Pretend it never happened.”
He sniffled slightly, then nodded. “Don’t worry, Jessie. I won’t screw up again. I promise.”
She smiled and gave him another squeeze. “That’s my bro.” She fumbled with his bangs, then whirled him around to face the mirror. “See. Now look how handsome you are.”
Sam eyed the suited figure ogling back at him. “I feel like I’m at church,” he said, still assessing, “or even worse. A funeral!”
Jessie laughed. “You won’t have to wear it long. Just be polite and try to smile!”
He forced a large, toothy, over-done grin at the mirror. “How’s that?”
Jessie tickled him until he was laughing hysterically. “And how’s that!”
“Okay! Okay! I’ll smile, I’ll smile!”
“You better,” she threatened, kissing his forehead. “Now I’ve got to finish getting ready. We have to be downstairs at 7:30 sharp. I’ll be back to get you in just a bit.” She hurried out the door and headed back to her own room.
Sam plopped drearily down on his favorite chair. It was his favorite because it was large, very plush and he could tilt back and spin circles in it. He fiddled with his hair, pulled at his collar, and again caught his twin glaring back at him from the mirror across the room. The boy couldn’t resist. He stuck out his tongue, made a few more funny faces, then topped his silliness off by giving his reflection the bird. “Hello. My name is Jimmy. But to you, young man, it’s Mr. Reitman,” Sam mocked in a ridiculous voice. Then he leaned back, looked up at his ceiling and spun slowly around and around. “I don’t like you already, Jimmy Reitman,” he said to himself. “You made me have to wear a suit.”
PART THREE
Chapter 43:
The sun-room was never really sunny. But it was festooned in windows and had the best view of the front courtyard. Gracie sat anxiously near a large, lower window where she could easily reach the pull for the curtains. She peered out through double-pained glass at the expanse of meticulous grounds, all done up and ablaze in a wash of intricate exterior lighting. It was a nighttime presentation which she rarely got to view, yet loved so much. The trees, shrubbery, bushes, flowers—all were participates in the ensemble—had their own spotlight stage and danced their own cadence in the lazy, evening breeze. The many fountains which punctuated throughout the courtyard, sprayed high into the air, catching the light in their misty plumes like great glowing geysers spewing up against a starry background. Oh, how she wanted to be right in the middle of it! There was a time when she would have been.
When Jimmy had asked to speak to her in private, Gracie had chosen the sun-room, and told him to meet her there. It was one of the smallest rooms in the estate, and not at all lavish. In fact, the very reason she had chosen the room was because it was homey and warm. There were no distinguished paintings, sculptures or tapestries; no extravagant woodwork, crystal chandeliers or rare antique collectables. No. It was just a room. A comfortable room where the decor consisted of a collage of family photos, keepsakes, and other personal framed mementos. Yes. This was the room where she wanted to have the talk.
Soon, a pair of contrasting lights beamed on the approaching drive, and Gracie knew that these were not part of the yard’s ornamentation. It was Jimmy’s car. She withdrew from the window and poured her a glass of warm herbal tea. She had a second, empty cup, just to be polite, but knew that Jimmy hated tea. The drink which he preferred, she would not have in her house. She re-straightened a few more straightened items, shifted some ceramic knickknacks, and slid several dish-on-doily’s from here to there and then back again. Then she realized that the lighting was too dark in this corner, and perhaps nearer to that corner where the lamp was, would be more conducive for conversation. She was about to turn on another set of accent lights when a sudden knock turned her to the opened door . . . and there he was.
“Hello mother,” said Jimmy, his tall frame filling the entry. He stepped inside and set down his jacket and keys.
He’s thinner, she thought. Or . . . no, perhaps just a darker suit. “Well do I get a kiss or what?” she replied, her arms open.
Jimmy smiled, walked to her side and kissed her on the cheek. Then he found a comfortable chair and sat down. He looked around the room for a moment, and made a perceptual observation. “I was about to ask where Hank had gotten to, but then I suppose he’s been,”—he hesitated, his eyebrows rising curiously—“shelved, for obvious reasons?”
Gracie nodded. “Yes. Both he and Emma Sue are currently offline in Avalon. I have all the help I need from my two lovely nieces, Ruthanne and Ellen, who have been dropping by each evening to help out.”
Jimmy swallowed. “Your nieces,” he repeated blankly. There was an emotional exchange behind those dark, analytical eyes, but for whatever reason, it was buried, and he managed a cordial smile. “How nice of them.”
“Yes. They’ve been helping out here at the estate since the day the children arrived. But then you knew that, didn’t you.”
Again, the odd exchange; again, a quick subdual.
Jimmy nodded. “Yes. I did.” Then his eyes, and the subject, shifted to a set of Royal Dalton on a nearby tray. “Is that for me?”
Gracie looked surprised. “It is, but all I have is tea, son.”
“Earl Grey?”
Gracie tittered almost facetiously. “Really? As a matter of fact, I do have Earl Grey. But since when did you—”
“I’d love a cup,” he said.
She reached to engage her chair.
“I can get it, mother,” he said, standing. “You don’t need to wait on me.”
Gracie watched the man with curious eyes. What is this all about? she heard herself think.
Jimmy rummaged around on the tray as if unable to find what he needed. It was an awkward lull as he clicked delicate china and clunked down silver. Then came the sound of liquid pouring in his cup.
“I understand why you kept this from me,” he said finally from behind his back. He stirred noisily then paused—poured in more cream and several healthy servings of sugar.
He’s never used sugar, Gracie noted. He’s never made tea, she amended.
Jimmy turned, blew on the liquid, then returned and sat down. He pulled his tie loose and eased into the leather cushion comfortably—he even removed his shoes.
Gracie watched his every move, critiquing him as though he was auditioning to play the part of himself, Jimmy Reitman.
“I was furious at first,” he confessed. “Furious that you and the Four could menace HOPE so easily. But then I found out who these two children are, and their unfortunate history.” He sighed apathetically. “Then I realized why you took them in. Like you, I was not aware that Tom had a child. Once I found out that these two orphans were his grandchildren, well, I understood.”
Gracie’s eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head curiously. “Did you?” she questioned. “Then why didn’t you say something? You’ve known since they arrived. It would have saved us all from weeks of deception.”
He eyed her as he sipped contently at his drink—the taste was revolting.
“Oh, I suppose it was a pride thing,” he feigned. “I thought I’d wait and see how your little charade played out.” He snorted an attempt at humor, to hide the disdain developing in his tone. “But it seems you and the Four pulled it off magnificently.”
Gracie deflected the terse edge. It was after all, Jimmy. “It would seem so,” she replied, matter-of-factly.
He sipped again, his eyes fixed on her through the subtle rise of steam. “So when do I get to meet them? I understand they are leaving Monday.”
Gracie’s
smile returned. She opted to remove her apprehensive cloak for this subject. “Yes,” she said pleasantly. “In fact, I’ve asked them to drop by,” she peered at her watch. “In about fifteen minutes.”
“Excellent,” he replied, grinning far too excessively—he would never make a career in acting.
“In the meantime,”—Gracie redirected with an anxious ring to her voice—“I want to hear about the launch. How are our two babies coming along.”
“Ah,” he said decisively. “Right on schedule, actually. Both birds have been prepped and staged for liftoff tomorrow afternoon at 4:45 P.M. sharp. The launch vehicle will be propelled by the most powerful rockets ever used—built with Reitman technology of course.”
Gracie nodded proudly. “Of course.” She tapped at a button on her armrest. A small digital screen suddenly appeared, neatly encased within the metal support. “Eli has been keeping me appraised of the progress. I read his report this morning,” she continued, glancing down at the data. “He said that NASA will have their entire team staffed and onsite. Quite impressive.”
“It’s beyond impressive, mother,” Jimmy enthused. “The launch will be an unprecedented sensation. We should all feel very proud.”
She eyed him wistfully, and her gaze became penetrating. “I am proud,” she spoke, hesitantly. “Proud of your father; proud of the Four; and proud of you, Jimmy. So very proud.”
In that moment, her words came to him like a crucifix to the vampire, and he paled. Sweat began to form on his brow and his stomach imploded into a tight knot. His mother’s geniality, spoken from the heart, was nearly debilitating, and caught the man completely off guard . . . the visual effect were immediate.
Why did she have to say that! he growled to himself, fighting the compunctions of soul, the whisk of betrayal of son to mother. She had blindsided him—knocked him from his stage and caused him to momentarily forget his lines!
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