“Sounds good to me,” Aryl said.
“Okay. Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m tired, hungry and I really need to see my Ahna. Whatdya say we head home. Well, home for today,” Caleb said, as he glanced over his shoulder. “I guess, starting tomorrow, this is our home.” The others nodded and they began the long walk home.
∞∞∞
“Welcome home, sir,” Grayson greeted with a nasal English accent. He helped Victor out of his coat and waited for his hat and scarf. “Mrs. Drayton is waiting in the dining room for you, sir.”
“Thank you.” Victor walked through the marble-floored foyer and the arched entryway into the parlor. The lighting was low and a roaring fire warmed the room. He entered the lavishly decorated dining room that bestowed expensive art and dark blue, velvet drapes that perfectly matched the Victorian style wallpaper. A darkly stained, oak chair rail separated the design from ornately engraved wood paneling that encircled the room. The long, formal dining table seated twelve and was always set to perfection with the finest china, crystal, and linens. A vast floral arrangement was set in the center.
Victor loosened his tie as he walked toward his wife, who sat at one end of the long table. He quickly kissed the top of her head and asked an obligatory, “How was your day?”
“Fine.” She didn’t look up as she poured another glass of wine. Victor usually sat at the other end of the table, which served to limit conversation and eye contact to a tolerable level for them both. Tonight he sat directly to her left. She glanced up at him as he pulled the chair out.
“You don’t mind?” he asked, smiling.
“By all means,” she replied, waving her hand at the chair. He held up his wine glass and Grayson filled it promptly. Victor looked at Ruth over the glass. He loved her, he supposed, as much as he was capable of loving someone anyway.
“So, what did you do today?” he asked.
“Well, Mildred and I went out shopping earlier today, and then I spent the afternoon arranging flowers.” She gestured toward the arrangement sprawling out of a gilded vase.
“Very nice,” he said, casually looking over toward them.
“I had to fire the maid today,” she continued. “She left the guest bedrooms in horrible states, and we’re having our party tomorrow night. Surely, people will stay over. I guess tomorrow I’ll spend my day looking for another one,” she said with irritation.
“You’re too hard on the staff, Ruth.” She answered him with a hard glare, and he held a hand up and made a face as if to say, Fine, do whatever you want with the staff.
Grayson set their dinner before them, refilled their water and wine glasses, bowed and turned to leave, closing the mahogany doors behind him.
“Have you found a dress for tomorrow night?”
“Yes, but it’s dreadful. It's a dreary brown and tan, and the shoulders are set all wrong. I’ll look hideous,” she seethed.
“Well, it is a Halloween party,” he said. She glared at him with blue eyes, narrow and hateful, and she continued her complaining.
“All the good dresses were taken, and there isn’t time to have one made. It’ll do, I suppose.”
“After enough to drink, it’ll look good to you. And everyone else for that matter,” he added under his breath. He could no more help being a cold-hearted bastard than she could help being bitter and jaded.
“What about your day?” she asked, with a sigh of returned obligation.
“Oh, pretty fair. The units are nearly full. By the end of the week, the few remaining will be occupied.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you had the sense to stay out of stocks. I read today about the outlandish situation that’s going on with all that. Mildred’s husband was hit hard but not wiped out, thankfully.”
“Indeed,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Of course, the value of the real estate is horrendous on paper, but I’ve more than made up for that in gold investments and rental income.” She held a glassy-eyed smile at mention of gold and was well on her way to drunk. He decided it was time.
“Speaking of a bad situation–” He paused to take a bite of steak. “You’ll never guess who wandered into my office today, completely wiped out, stripped of his dignity and hours from homelessness.” He chuckled.
“Hmm?” she asked, barely interested.
He watched her closely as he spoke the name. “Jonathan Garrett.”
Her fork stopped mid-air, eyes fixed straight ahead.
“You remember him, of course.”
She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin daintily before taking three gulps of wine. “What do you mean wiped out?” she asked quietly.
“I mean broke. His little empire is gone. Lost everything and took his friends down with him, too.” He gave her a minute to absorb that while he chewed another bite. Slowly, he reached out to pat her hand. “I know he was special to you at one time, but aren’t you glad now you didn’t end up with him, my love?” She forced a smile and nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. Special was an understatement. Ruth had been completely in love with him. Jonathan had cared for her, but he had never loved her, and he never led her to believe he did. Regardless, she believed fully that they would end up married. Mutual hatred of Jonathan had brought she and Victor together. Their relationship was based on little else.
Victor asked cheerily, “What’s for dessert?”
“I’m really not hungry anymore,” she whispered. She took the wine from the chiller and left the room, swaying slightly. Victor finished his dinner alone, dismissed Grayson and retired to the parlor. He settled in his chair and opened the newspaper with a smug grin. He would give Ruth a while to drink herself to sleep before he went up to bed. He had no interest in witnessing her grief over Jonathan Garrett.
∞∞∞
“Ahna!” Caleb yelled as he burst into their home. “Arianna!”
“Up here!”
He breathed a sigh of relief and took the stairs two at a time. He found her on the bedroom floor, legs tucked under her, sorting small piles of jewelry.
“What on earth are you doing?” he asked as he sat down beside her.
“I’m checking the jewelry against the insurance paperwork. We can take or sell anything there’s no record of,” she explained, eyes focused on the neatly arranged piles.
“Good thinking, Ahna.”
“How did it go today?” she asked distantly.
“About that. I need to talk to you. There are some things you need to know concerning where we’re going–”
“I found some drapes and linens in the attic and packed them,” she interrupted. “But I need help getting them downstairs.”
“Okay, I’ll get to that. But I really need to talk to you about where we’re going. It’s going to be somewhat of a shock.” He touched her arm to get her attention. She stopped sorting and looked at him numbly with swollen eyes.
“I’m sure it’s bad,” she said quietly. He nodded with eyes full of dread. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Tell me.”
∞∞∞
Jonathan bent down to help Ava pack a few sentimental pieces. He was thankful for something mundane to do for a moment, having no idea of how to begin to tell her where they were going and whom they were forced to rent from. Jonathan looked up suddenly. “What’s that smell?”
She smiled. “It’s Sven. He’s cooking dinner for us. Charles and Maura are here, too. They came a couple hours ago to see if they could help with anything.”
Jonathan stiffened. “I can’t pay them,” he told her in a low voice laced with shame.
“They know. They want to help anyway. Let them, Jonathan. They feel awful about what’s happened to all of us.” His brow creased in frustration. Just as he was about to protest again, Charles appeared in the entryway of the parlor.
“Hello, sir.”
Jonathan turned and tried to smile. “Hello, Charles.”
“I hope you don’t mind us coming unannounced to
day, sir, but we thought it only fair that we assist you right up until you have to leave.”
“Only fair?” He swallowed hard. “I can’t pay you, Charles.”
“We’re not here for pay, sir. We’re here as friends.” His old eyes were kind. “You have been very good to us. You helped each of us in different ways over the years.”
Jonathan stared at him, expressionless.
“Last Christmas, for instance, do you remember what you did for us, sir?” Jonathan searched his memories of the last Christmas but nothing involving his staff stood out in his mind.
“No, I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me, Charles,” he said, a little embarrassed.
“You gave each of us a Christmas bonus that was more than generous. That bonus made all the difference in our families having a Merry Christmas.”
Maura was beside him and spoke her piece. “An’ you’ll remember the time me wee Scottie was terribly sick. You paid for his doctoring and didn’t dock my pay none whilst I stayed home to care for him.”
Jonathan smiled. He remembered now, but these things seemed nothing more than the decent thing to do at the time, and he had never given the decisions any second thoughts. Ava squeezed his hand and smiled at him. Jonathan looked over to see Sven looming in the doorway.
“You’ve not eaten a decent meal since yesterday,” he accused with his hard Russian accent. Jonathan smiled, realizing he hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before.
“Actually, Sven, I haven’t. I’m starving.”
“Roast and potatoes. I will call you when ready.” He turned to the kitchen with a nod. Maura and Charles continued sorting and packing necessities, and Jonathan realized that this was his first taste of charity. He didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would, as it was coming from sincere souls.
“Well,” he said, turning to Ava and pulling her into a hug. “I guess this gives us some time to talk. There are some things I need to tell you about today. And about tomorrow.” He walked her to the couch, turning slightly so he could look her in the eyes. Taking a deep breath, he began to recount the day, omitting details about his assaults on the garbage can and dumpster. He gave her a full description of the apartment and location in a somber tone. He had decided to give her every detail, so there would be no surprises tomorrow, but he spontaneously decided to keep the fact that Victor was the owner from her for as long as possible. She listened and maintained a neutral expression, nodding periodically. When he was finished, there was a long silence as she tried to picture what he described.
“Are you all right, Ava?” he asked, breaking her concentration.
“I am.” The crackling snaps of logs in the fireplace filled the room while they both sat deep in thought. She asked some carefully worded questions, pausing for several moments after his awkward, uncertain answers. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh, closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.
“What’s wrong, Ava?” he asked, thinking it an absurd question.
“I was actually thinking about Arianna,” she said suddenly. “I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been right.”
“There’s a lot about Arianna that isn't right.”
He put his arm around her and leaned them both back to rest on the back of the couch. He was grateful to talk about anything other than the hovel they were about to call home, and that Ava hadn’t fallen apart when he told her of the conditions.
“Arianna acts on emotion and doesn’t give a care what society deems appropriate. That’s not to say that Arianna doesn’t enjoy shocking people because, truly, she does, and she often acts on that. She is also the vainest creature that ever lived. She needs to know that every living thing on earth loves her because, truth be told, I don’t think she loves herself at all. She has to stand apart from the crowd. She has been known to go out of her way to make someone’s heart race or blood boil just to prove that she can.”
“Well, how does Caleb feel about her acting like this?”
“Everything about Arianna fascinates him.” He shook his head in pity. “He is so completely smitten. She is most comfortable in Paris with friends who consider themselves free from what we consider proper behavior. Caleb told me of some of the wild evenings they’ve had. Arianna would play cards, drink and smoke cigars right alongside the men. She was right at home. I can guarantee you that the hardest part of all this for her is that she has no idea when they will be able to get back to Paris.”
“Will she be all right?” Ava asked.
“Honestly, I don’t care. It’s you I’m worried about,” he said, touching her face, his blue eyes full of concern.
“I’ll be all right, Jon.” She gave a brave smile. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said with eyes that betrayed his lie.
Sven’s booming voice pulled them both away from their distractions. “Dinner is served.”
Jonathan turned to Sven, Charles, and Maura. “You will be joining us, of course.” He wasn’t asking. The three sat down hesitantly for the first time at the same table. Charles began to pour the wine.
Maura put her hand over her glass and scoffed, “I’ll have none of that grape juice. Charles, fetch your flask, so I can pour meself a proper drink.”
Charles squirmed in his seat.
“Maura,” he said nervously. “I’ve no flask in my possession.”
“Yer a bloody lyin’ Brit. I’ve seen ye swig it every day I’ve been in service here!” Jonathan smiled and went to fetch the cut glass decanter of brandy from the parlor. He set it before Maura.
“Have your fill, my dear,” he said and smiled as her eyes lit up.
“Now that’s more like it,” she said, filling her glass to the brim.
There was a knock at the door, quickly followed by Caleb’s voice.
“Sorry we’re late!” he called from the foyer.
Charles looked at Jonathan. “I forgot to mention, sir, that Maura went over earlier and invited the others to join us tonight.”
“No, that’s quite all right,” Jonathan said.
Caleb, Arianna, Aryl and Claire entered the dining room quietly and took their seats. The atmosphere was somewhat lighter; the circle of close friends complete. It was tempting to forget for the moment their worries and fears as they ate, drank, and talked. Arianna, who was sitting next to Maura, helped herself to the brandy which Maura kept protectively close to her plate. She downed a glass and then poured another.
“We would like to return tomorrow if we could be of some help,” Charles offered. Jonathan sighed uncomfortably and ran his fingers through his hair.
“We’ll be leaving tomorrow. Caleb, Aryl, and I were going to make a few trips over this evening, actually, to get some repairs done.”
“How are you intending on transporting your belongings, sir?”
“We’ll walk them, I suppose.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I arranged the use of my brother’s automobile. It is parked out back if you’d like to make use of it until the morning,” Charles said. Jonathan was at a loss for words; grateful yet embarrassed.
Caleb smiled and said, “That’s wonderful, Charles. It’ll help us out a great deal.”
∞∞∞
Jonathan carefully set a blanket-covered box into the backseat of the borrowed car. It was the last of his secret stash of alcohol. He leaned on the car and waited for the others. He didn’t want to leave the car unattended for fear of theft. That new feeling of vulnerability is what caused him to push off the back of the car and turn quickly toward the approaching footsteps on the sidewalk. He recognized the man immediately; Milton stopped short when he saw Jonathan.
“Milt, how are you?” Jonathan asked, somewhat reserved, wondering how Milt had fared the last week.
“Jonathan. I’m okay. You?” he replied tentatively, knowing exactly how Jonathan had fared.
“I’ve been better.” He cast his eyes down and scuffed the concrete with his shoe. “It’s been a rough week. How’d you far
e through it all?” Jonathan looked up with genuine concern as Milton looked down uncomfortably again.
“Listen, I heard what happened, and I wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry. What you’re going through has to be hard. Those of us who are left feel awful for you.” Jonathan looked away, embarrassed and eager to change the subject.
“Listen, Milt, I’ve been meaning to ask you–”
“Look, Jon, I feel real bad about what’s happened, but we’ve all been hit to some degree. I’m sorry, I really wish I could help you out, but we took a decent loss, too, and with the new baby and all . . . I just can’t. Good luck, though, buddy.” He gave Jonathan two hard pats on the arm and rushed past him. Jonathan watched him walk away, stunned. He had intended to ask about Milton and Sarah’s baby, born just a few weeks ago. He was curious if it had been a girl or boy. Then it hit him. He thought I was asking for money. Thought I was begging for a handout.
His face flooded crimson with angry embarrassment. He was tempted to chase Milton down and set things straight. Before he could decide whether to do just that, Charles spoke behind him.
“Excuse me, sir, I found these in the humidor. It’s the very last of them, but I thought they might be a small luxury for you under the circumstances.” Charles held out a box containing Jonathan’s Cuban cigars.
“Yes, Charles, thank you,” he said, smiling slightly. If memory served, he had ten, maybe twelve, cigars left. He would make those last as long as he could. When Jonathan opened it, he found the box packed full. Those of a cheaper, locally made brand surrounded the expensive, imported ones. He recalled that the brand was the same as he had given to Charles last Christmas. He looked up at Charles and smiled.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“You weren’t supposed to open it just yet, sir,” he said, smiling with a twinkle in his old eyes and turned quickly toward the house. Jonathan smiled, glanced down the road at Milton’s distant, foggy silhouette and his smile faded.
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