“You got a job buddy?” Frank asked. “Doing what?”
Gene gave him a shamefaced glance. “I had Tilly’s rash treatment oil analyzed by a local laboratory. They broke it down, and there doesn’t seem to be a patent on it so I found a partner willing to produce the first batch.”
Frank’s mouth dropped open. “You’re stealing Tilly’s remedy?”
“It’s not really stealing,” Gene argued. “It’s just a recipe that is free to anyone who wants to do something with it. You know me, a true humanitarian, I just like helping people.” His eyebrows flew up. “Hey! You could write an ad jingle for it!”
Frank stared at him. “Who’s your partner?”
Gene dipped his head and smiled. “Rex Roberts.”
The doorbell rang. Frank said, “We’ve got to talk about this,” as he pointed an index finger at Gene on his way to the door.
“Hello Mr. Beal,” Bobby MacCormack shoved his hand at Frank through the open door.
Frank shook it. “Hello Bobby, what brings you here so early?”
“My family is taking my aunt and uncle to the airport, and I thought Mel would like to come along.”
Frank opened the door wider. “Come in.” He looked up the stairs. “Melinda! Someone is here to see you.”
Melinda appeared at the top of the stairs and looked down. She screamed, wrapped her robe tightly around her middle and backed out of sight. “Daddy, why didn’t you say it was Bobby?” Her voice came out in a wispy croak. “I’m not even dressed yet.”
Frank shrugged. “It’s Bobby.”
“I’m getting dressed. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“You might as well come in and relax,” Frank said sounding amused. “This may take awhile. You eat yet?”
The kitchen smelled of blueberry pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and fresh coffee. “Bobby’s here to take Melinda to the airport,” Frank announced.
“And where are you off to?” Joan asked suspiciously.
Bobby smiled. “My parents and I are seeing my aunt and uncle off. They’ve been visiting from Brazil.”
“Bobby’s aunt Tilly is married to Tito Tortuga,” Frank said with a shrewd wink.
“What?!” Gene exclaimed. “Tilly’s your aunt?”
“My mom’s sister.” Bobby nodded and took a step back.
“The one that makes rash oil?” Gene sounded like an interrogating officer. “That’s good for cat scratches and bad gums?”
Bobby smiled. “Among other things. She’s an herbalist and has spared a lot of people from unnecessary surgery.”
“What about your uncle? He’s a gardener isn’t he?” Frank asked.
“He has a lot of side jobs,” Bobby said as he took the glass of orange juice Joan offered him. “Thanks.” He sipped, licked his lips and sipped again. “He cooks, grows exotic plants and practices the art of conjure. I’ve always known him as a priest of Santeria.”
“Where is that?”
Bobby laughed. “It’s not where, it’s what. Santeria is a religion,” he explained. “Uncle Tito only works for the fun of it. He’s very rich. Orishas and guardian spirits predict numbers that will come out in the lottery or what horse will win a race but Tito is the only one who can interpret the coded clues, and he does it regularly.”
“Where can I get one of these Orishas?” Gene asked.
Bobby raised a resistant hand. “You don’t want to get one, believe me. Don’t even mess with the stuff. You can cause yourself a lot of trouble.”
“I believe you.” Gene smiled.
“I’m sorry Bobby,” Joan interrupted. “You haven’t met Melinda’s aunt Helen,” she said as she poured a cup of coffee.
Helen waved a batter covered spoon. “Hi.”
Bobby smiled. “The pleasure is mine.”
Joan handed the coffee to Frank and stretched to whisper in his ear, “His manners have improved since his last visit.”
Frank whispered, “Remarkably.”
“Have a seat Bobby,” Frank motioned toward the dining room table, “and tell me more about your family.”
Bobby sat in one of the chairs facing the back yard. “There’s not much to tell. My mom calls her sister when she’s worried about someone in the family. Aunt Tilly and Uncle Tito come and straighten it out. This time it was me she was worried about.”
“You?” Frank’s brow knitted.
The corners of Bobby’s lips tipped up in a crooked smile. “Yeah, my parents want me to go to college in the fall. I didn’t see the advantage in it, as you know.” He shrugged. “Aunt Tilly and Uncle Tito came and set me straight. I’m going to Berkley in the fall.”
Frank grinned and nodded his approval. “A mind is a terrible thing to waste.” He imagined Tilly and Tito standing over a boiling cauldron stirring in chicken heads, snail shells, John and Valerain root, fly’s legs then sprinkling it all with the dust from a moth’s wings. “And just how did they set you straight?” he asked adding half and half to his coffee. He lifted it and took a cautious sip. “Did they use some kind of magic spell on you?”
“No,” Bobby chuckled. “They never use magic on family.” He gave Frank a pensive look. “I think it was something Aunt Tilly said.”
“What was that?”
“She said going through life without an education was like trying to play ping pong in the dark.”
Frank smiled in contemplation then sipped at his coffee.
Melinda tip toed up behind Bobby and placed her hands over his eyes.
He smiled. “Hey Mel.”
“How did you know it was me?” she giggled and sat down beside him.
“I smelled the baby powder.” He turned and laughed.
Frank gazed up at her lovingly. No wonder he had such a hard time accepting that she was growing up, she hadn’t outgrown baby powder yet.
“I use it on my hair when I don’t have time to wash it,” she announced crinkling her nose.
Joan walked in with a stack of plates. “Don’t get too comfortable young lady; I need you to set the table.”
Helen followed with the plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. Gene brought in a couple of extra chairs, and Matt tagged after him carrying a kitchen stool.
“Is everyone here?” Joan asked as she placed a steaming platter of pancakes in the center of the table.
She looked around. “Where’s Susan?”
“She’s next door watching them dig the pool for Mr. Roberts,” Matt said as he picked up two pancakes with his fingers and flopped them on his plate.
“Go and tell her breakfast is ready,” Joan said. “And wash those filthy hands Mister.”
Matt sighed deeply and reluctantly slid from the stool. “Make me a happy face, okay mom?” He ran to the front door.
“Okay, honey,” Joan said. “And don’t slam the…”
She didn’t finish her sentence before the front door slammed behind him.
“What’s a happy face?” Helen asked.
“It’s this!” Gene said and displayed a huge smile.
“I’m so happy you’re wearing your teeth,” Helen said and kissed his cheek.
Joan arranged Matt’s pancakes in a stack. “This is a happy face,” she explained. She put scrambled eggs at the top of his plate to represent hair. She curved a mouth with a strip of bacon and carefully placed two blueberries on each side to indicate eyes.
“Oh how cute.” Helen said.
“How come you never do that for me?” Frank asked teasingly.
Joan grinned. “One happy face at a time please.”
“Aunt Helen,” Melinda blinked. “When did you get here?”
Helen flashed Melinda a smile. “It looks like I arrived just in time to enjoy this wonderful breakfast.”
Matt burst through the door, ran to the table and hopped up on the stool. “She’s coming.”
“Did you wash your hands?” Joan asked.
Matt nodded. He bent over with his face just inches from his plate. He grabbed his fork and began ea
ting as if he expected the food to run away. “I washed them with the hose,” he said between chews.
“Pass the butter please,” Gene said.
Helen said, “Joan, this is the best maple syrup I ever had.”
“Daddy, is it okay if I go to Berkley on weekends to visit Bobby when he’s in college?”
Frank gave Melinda a bright smile. “If your mother and I can go, too.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she pouted.
Susan came through the door with a smile and a hum. She was armored up in her hard hat and work boots with her clipboard under her arm.
Chapter Nineteen
A wedge of morning sunlight fell across Frank’s Sherman Clay upright piano. He lightly tapped the keys with the tips of his fingers patiently waiting for inspiration to ignite.
Matt appeared beside him. “Morning dad.”
“Morning Matt, ready for school?”
Matt nodded and smiled with a soap cleaned freckled face.
“Knock, knock,” Matt said squirming with anticipation.
Frank slipped an arm around Matt’s shoulders. “Who’s there?”
“Banana.”
“Banana who?” Frank played along.
“Knock, knock,” Matt said excitedly.
Frank’s brows knitted, and he flashed an uncertain smile.
“Who’s there?”
“Banana,” Matt said again.
“Banana who?”
“Knock, knock,” Matt repeated.
“Come on, aren’t you gonna tell me who’s there?”
“Orange,” Matt chirped.
“Orange who?”
“Orange you glad I didn’t say banana again?” Matt slapped his hands over his mouth. His eyes turned to slits, and his shoulders jiggled with laughter.
Frank smiled and patted Matt’s back. “You got me.”
“Matt, go tell Susan the car will be leaving in five minutes,” Joan said as she pulled on her jacket.
“Why do I always have to go get Susan?”
“To avoid getting yelled at,” Joan explained.
Matt’s shoulders slumped.
Frank gently squeezed the back of Matt’s neck. “Go ahead buddy, it’s because you’re the fastest.”
Matt looked up. He flashed a mischievous smile and ran toward the stairs.
“Now why can’t I think of things like that?” Joan asked.
Frank shrugged. “We can’t all be ingenious when it comes to motivating people.”
Joan walked over and opened the drapes across the window that overlooked the side of the house. “How can you work when it’s so dark in here?”
Frank winced back the sunlight. “A beautiful day distracts me from my work. I actually use it as a reward. Once I’ve accomplished what I set out to do, I allow myself to enjoy…” his words were cut short when he spotted the black satin and lace bustier corset hanging on the clothes line. “I allow myself to enjoy…”
“Enjoy what?” Joan asked with a seductive smile. She began to walk towards him with her heavy lidded eyes gliding from his face to his chest and resting just south of the border.
Frank felt his jaw clench. Although Tilly had removed the perfection from the family to his satisfaction. This obsession Joan had with her corset lingered. Her episodes were less frequent, and the intensity had diminished somewhat, still he struggled with finding a healthy balance of sex, family, work and recreation in their marriage. In precisely that order.
Frank blinked back the glare. “What’s that on the clothes line hanging along side your black lingerie?”
Joan stopped and turned to look. “Tea bags and paper towels.”
Frank frowned. “Why are you hanging tea bags on the clothes line?”
“I’m saving money, they can be re-used,” she explained. “If you think I’m going to wait ten years to have a swimming pool you’re out of your mind.”
Frank sighed. “Do we have to continue to compete with the Robert’s?”
“Oh sure, easy for you to say. You don’t have to listen to Joan prattle on about all the things Rex is buying for her,” she complained. “Jewelry, vacations, a swimming pool…”
Frank raised a hand. “The Robert’s don’t have three children either.”
“Good morning,” Susan said. “Daddy, one of the light bulbs in the bathroom is out, and the water doesn’t drain fast enough in the shower. It’s a health hazard.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Frank said as he jotted it on an imaginary list.
“Okay, go ahead and joke…” Susan said as she set her clipboard down to put on her jacket. “…but don’t blame me when someone comes down with planter’s warts or athlete’s foot.”
“Honey, you’d be the last one I’d blame.”
“So, I’ve been thinking Frank,” Joan said. “If I can save on household expenses and work full-time instead of part-time, do you think we could have a pool in two years?”
Frank frowned. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to work full time. Who will pick the kids up from school? Do the grocery shopping? Cooking?”
“You, of course.”
Frank’s face pinched into a look of protest. “Just because I’m home doesn’t mean I’m not working.”
“We can’t have a pool,” Susan announced. “At least not a built-in pool.”
“What?” Joan and Frank said in unison. “Why?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “According to the rules and regulations for swimming pool permits your backyard has to be at least thirty-nine point thirty-seven feet wide.”
“So?” Frank said.
“So, ours is only thirty-six.”
“How do you know that?” Joan asked.
“I measured it.”
Joan blinked. “I mean how do you know about the rules and regulations for swimming pools.”
Susan shrugged. “I looked it up at the library.”
Joan and Frank exchanged a surprised glance.
“Mr. Robert’s yard isn’t big enough for a pool either,” Susan said matter of factly. “I measured his yard, too. It’s a half foot smaller than ours.”
“Then how did he get his permit?” Frank asked.
Susan shrugged again. “He must have lied.”
A slow smile spread across Frank’s face. A feeling of joy bubbled up and puffed out his chest. He was a bit light headed, intoxicated with a kind of lofty delight. The relentless pursuit of stuff, and how much was enough had suddenly been revealed to him. In a single moment of clarity he was able to clearly view a defect that was far from charming. The unconquerable but ludicrous grip of rivalry had been exposed, and he realized now it was time to let it go.
“When I told him what I found at the library, he had a real funny look on his face,” Susan said.
Frank laughed out loud. “I’ll bet he did.” Then he became serious. “Did you threaten to report him?”
Susan rolled her eyes more dramatically this time. “I’m not stupid. I want to swim in it.”
“Mom,” Melinda said. “Let’s go. Mr. Moore said if I’m late for my English class one more time I’ll get a Saturday of detention. You don’t want that hanging over your head do you?” She smoothed her hands down the leather vest Bobby had given her.
Joan placed a hand over her heart. “Heaven’s no, you would miss a day without Bobby in Saturday detention.” She smiled and kissed Frank on the lips. “Have a good day.”
Matt appeared next to Frank. “I hope you write another neat song like the one for the shoe polish. Lickity spit.” He gave Frank two thumbs up.
“Just for you, buddy.” Frank gave Matt a hug and without any premeditation said, “What do you think about going over to the animal shelter after school and picking out a dog?”
Matt’s eyes grew round, and his mouth dropped open. “Neato! Thanks dad!”
Joan finally got the kids herded out, and the house fell silent except for the notes Frank plunked.
“I’ve got you under my skin,” he sang then shook h
is head. The advertisement had to speak of healing, not affliction.
He tried another. “Cuddle up a little closer, I’m rash free.”
Gene had insisted that Frank’s company handle all the advertising for Tilly’s oil that had been thoughtfully named, Santeria healing oil. Of course, Gene and Rex made Tilly a partner when the first batch of oil failed to perform. She supplied the missing ingredients, which turned out to be an undisclosed ratio of Valerian root and pomegranate tonic accompanied by a rhyming chant. Frank didn’t completely pass on this ground floor opportunity; he invested half their savings in Santeria healing oil and was just waiting for the right moment to tell Joan.
His eyes brightened. “At last, my rash has gone away, my itching days are over, and I can sing a song.” He laughed. Etta James wouldn’t be happy about that. Besides, the oil was a lot more than just a rash remedy.
The doorbell rang.
Frank opened the door. It was Rex Roberts. His smile was humble, a flickering expression seldom seen on his customarily arrogant face. He shifted his feet with an uncomfortable looking posture.
“Hello Frank.”
“Rex. What can I do for you?”
“Yes, well.” his eyes wandered toward the flower beds and across the lawn. “I just wanted you to know that I have been released by my doctor, and I have dismissed the personal injury law suit.”
“Really?” Frank had to work to extinguish the look of surprise.
“Yes, Gene explained that he was the one who was responsible for the mishap.” Rex put a hand on the small of his back. “And that oil that Tilly makes seems to have cured any injury that resulted in my fall.”
“That’s good news.” Frank smiled.
“Hey, and I’m real glad you’ll be writing the jingle for the oil. I know it will be great.” Rex shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked down at his shoes.
“You want to come in for some coffee?” Frank asked.
Rex’s head jerked up. “No thanks, I have to get back to supervise the pool builders.”
Frank smiled. “Yes, your new built-in pool. Congratulations.”
Rex dipped his head in obvious embarrassment. “Yes, well.” He turned to leave then turned back. “I hope you and your family will feel free to come over and use the pool.”
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