Hard-Hearted Hannah chopped at her brother’s arm. “There’s two of us and one of you, so watch it. You want to talk about sappy, what about Sonia, that exchange student you’re tutoring in English? When you see her coming you do everything but roll over so she’ll scratch your belly. Give up?”
“Yeah, okay,” Sam snorted. He never won with the two of them. Never.
They didn’t need to be told that their grandmother was coming down the hall. Freddie strained at her leash, slamming her body against the glass doors. She did everything but turn herself inside out the moment her beloved mistress came into sight.
The moment the door opened, and the nurse pushed the wheelchair through the opening, quicker than lightning, Freddie sprang free and was in Cisco’s lap, lathering her with wet kisses.
Cisco squeezed Freddie so hard, the retriever yelped, but she didn’t jump off Cisco’s lap.
“I heard we’re going out to an early dinner, and then it’s back here for me. This is a good thing,” she said, getting out of the wheelchair with the nurse’s help. “They tell me the Red Circle Inn allows pets, so Freddie will be all right. This is so kind of you all to be doing this for me. That nice young doctor even called in an orthopedic man to check out my arm. They did an X ray, and he said the bone is healed. I just have to be careful. It’s all so wonderful. I just feel like crying. It started out being a miserable, lonely holiday, and now it’s beyond anything I could have hoped for.”
Beaming with happiness, the Trips hugged her. They led her to the car and settled her with Freddie on her lap before they all started to talk at once.
“How many times do I have to tell you, one at a time!” Cisco said. Tomorrow, even though it’s Saturday, an audiologist is coming to check my hearing. Dr. Kelly didn’t seem to think I had the right hearing aid. Now, wherever we go for dinner, let’s make it someplace where I can pick up what I’m going to eat. I have a lot of different drops in my eyes, so now I can’t even see shadows. Freddie needs something good to eat, too. You’ve been giving her water, haven’t you?”
“Yes, to everything, Cisco,” the Trips said in unison.
“You like Dr. Kelly then, huh?” Sam said.
“Very much. He explained everything to me in detail. He encouraged me to ask questions. Doctors never talk badly about other doctors, but I had the feeling he doesn’t have much respect for Dr. Nathan, my doctor at home. Sometimes age and experience are blessings, and sometimes they aren’t. Dr. Kelly said they’ve made incredible strides in laser surgery. I will have to wear glasses, but I’ll be able to see.”
Suddenly Cisco’s high mood plummeted. “We aren’t going to tell your father, are we?”
“Absolutely not. We are going to call Laurel Hills and tell them you won’t be back for…let’s say, ten days to be on the safe side. We don’t want Dad filing a missing persons report on you. I’ll call the apartment and leave a message for him, too, just to be on the safe side,” Sam said.
“Oh, I love it when you three come up with a plan that actually works. But I wish you had told me you were getting married, Hannah,” Cisco teased.
Hannah’s face turned red. “Oh, that…that…doctor!”
5
The Cisco corporate offices were in a loft over a warehouse on Hudson Street in downtown Manhattan. It wasn’t the best address in town, but Cisco didn’t care about such things. This was where they’d set up shop when the company became viable, and she’d refused to move, saying, “Why should I move to midtown and pay exorbitant rent to make someone’s wallet fatter? Better my wallet should get fat.” He hadn’t argued the point because back then he’d believed his mother was an astute businesswoman and he’d agreed with everything she said.
It was Alexandra who pointed out that with more visibility, along with the Internet, the company would grow at the speed of light. Alexandra had also said they needed to hire younger, brighter people. Buttoned-up MBAs demanding high salaries and even higher expense accounts. New commercials needed to be made because it was time to put the old grandma and grandpa skits out to pasture where they belonged. Everyone, she said, knew when you got old, you had false teeth, and couldn’t chew caramels and taffy. “Get real,” Alexandra said so disdainfully that he’d felt inadequate for days.
How well he remembered the day he’d brought up Alexandra’s ideas with Cisco. She’d looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head. She’d cut to the chase in a twinkling. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” She’d gone on to say they paid their bills on time, the employees were happy, the buying public was happy, the Trips’s trust funds were robust, as was his own. We have integrity, was her bottom line.
Jonathan climbed out of his car, aware suddenly that there were lights on in the offices. On a Sunday morning? Hattie, the office manager, the office everything, must have forgotten to turn them off on Wednesday when she left for the holiday weekend. Hattie was old; it was time for her to retire, just as it was time for John and Henry to retire. New blood was needed. New ideas, new packaging. Which brought him to his second question of the morning. What the hell am I doing here? Why did I leave Alexandra sleeping snugly in my new bed to come here? was his first question. He shrugged as he entered the warehouse and took the elevator to the office floor.
He was stunned to see Hattie, Henry, and John at their desks. They looked up as one, frowned, then went back to what they were doing.
“How’s Loretta, Jonathan?” Hattie asked as she thumbed through a stack of invoices. “Tell her we miss her. What’s wrong, Jonathan? You look a tad peaked to me.” She sounded like she didn’t care if he looked peaked or not, it was just something to say.
Jonathan’s first reaction was to tell her exactly how he felt. These three, even the other office workers and the factory workers, were like family. No buttoned-up MBA would have dared to tell him he looked peaked or call the owner by her first name.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
“Working,” Hattie snapped back. “Watch your tone, young man. You haven’t been around much lately, or you would know demand is exceeding supply. You might want to think about going out to the factory and giving everyone a pep talk. Morale is down with Loretta being…it’s just down. It’s the Christmas season, and we’re so far behind it’s pitiful. That’s what we’re doing here on Sunday. We were here almost all day on Thanksgiving, Friday, and yesterday, too. In case you care.
“By the way, what happened to the plans for the Christmas party and the bonuses? I can’t do everything, Jonathan. This place is going to hell! What are you doing here?”
It was a good question. What the hell am I doing here?“I came here to think.” Jonathan said, going into his cluttered office. He slammed the door. He sat down, his gaze going to the wall where a picture of the first shipment of caramels being loaded onto one of their delivery trucks hung. It was one of his favorite pictures.
The door opened. Hattie stood in the doorway. Jonathan sighed.
Hattie Dapper was as round as a pumpkin and just as colorful. She had snow-white hair and wore tiny little glasses; granny glasses, she called them. She sucked on caramels all day long. Sucked, not chewed. He wondered if Alexandra was right, and if Hattie had false teeth. He’d always been afraid to ask.
He loved Hattie. She had to be at least seventy, a few years younger than Cisco. She was a dynamo, single-handedly overseeing everything and making sure deadlines were met and things worked smoothly. She was mad now, her glasses jiggling on the end of her nose. She was also the Trips’s godmother, and as such she could say whatever she wanted, when she wanted. He knew he was going to get an earful at any second.
“What?” he barked.
“What? What? You know what, Jonathan. You’re slacking is what. Ever since you started keeping company with that woman, things have gone downhill around here. That needs to stop. We need you here. Your mother needs to know you’re doing your share. Don’t think for one minute we don’t know what’s going on. We do. Another thin
g, the only reason, Henry, John, and I are still here is because of Loretta. Since you came here to think, let me give you something to think about.
“That young woman you’re seeing, the one you met in the health club…you said you met her when you were dripping sweat. Actually, you bragged about it to John. You told Henry she was decked out in a set of designer workout clothes and still managed to look ravishing. But she wasn’t sweating. Do you know why she wasn’t sweating, you dumb galoot? She was just at that health club to find herself a rich husband. You fell for it, too. You know how I know? Because I went there and pretended she was my niece. I got real chatty with one of the trainers. That’s one of the perks of being old. Young people trust you, confide in you because…well, they just do. The trainer told me more than I wanted to know. She doesn’t sweat! What does that tell you? She never went back once you swept her off her feet. I slipped the trainer fifty bucks to call me if she ever showed up again. I should have saved my money.” The little woman grimaced as though she’d just bitten into a sour lemon.
“You did what?” Jonathan roared. “I’m on my last nerve here, Hattie, and you just stepped over the line. You and everyone else around here need to stop sticking your noses into my private business. I should fire all of you.”
Hattie clucked her tongue. “What’s stopping you, boy? You’re going to do it after the first of the year anyway. If you want to fire us now, go ahead. Aside from not sweating, your girlfriend has a big mouth, too. You’re moving the offices to midtown, you’re going to retire all of us old-timers, and you’re stepping into Loretta’s shoes, an impossible feat, and not because they’re women’s shoes either. I’m ashamed of you, Jonathan Cisco, and I hope you can sleep at night. How do you look at yourself in the mirror? The people I really feel sorry for are your mother and the Trips. I’ll leave you now so you can think.”
The minute the door closed behind Hattie, Jonathan’s head started to ache. What he really wanted to do was bang his head on the desk in frustration. Why did everyone in his life feel compelled to stick their noses into his business? Why did everyone have a damn opinion where he was concerned?
Jonathan leaned back in the deep, comfortable swivel chair he’d broken in years before. If he moved to new offices in midtown, he’d have to get one of those ergonomic chairs and a shiny desk with a telephone system designed by some rocket scientist. He cringed inwardly.
He looked around at the clutter, at the business of running Cisco Candies. This worked. The chair worked. The desk held the family’s life. It worked, too. The old black telephone worked just as well as shouting at the top of one’s lungs. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
Would there be room in midtown for all the family pictures dotting the walls? Would new customers, assuming there would be new customers, be offended by the pictures of the softball league the company sponsored? Alexandra said they would. Would they think all the pictures of the Trips sappy and maudlin? And what about Margie’s picture? Would that have to go because she belonged to the past? He reached out and picked up a picture of his wife with her arms around the Trips. They were laughing uproariously as they prepared to go white water rafting. Memories ran through his mind as his gaze swept the walls. His eyes burned when he remembered how Margie always knew when he was upset or tense about something. She’d knead his shoulders and neck, her slender fingers massaging and yet caressing those tense areas. When Margie was alive, he rarely got a headache. These days he went to bed with an aching head and woke up with his head pounding. He should think about buying stock in an aspirin company.
“I miss you,” he whispered.
He thought again about those first weeks after she’d died, which had been so terrible. For him, for the Trips, for Cisco, too. They’d practically lived at the cemetery. They’d sent balloons up with little messages inside. Then Sam said he wanted to send a bottle down the creek with a message in it. They’d done that, too, when they returned to the mountains, because it made them all feel better. Then Cisco said enough was enough, and the daily visits had to stop. Not entirely, though. When they stayed in New York they went as a family once a month carrying flowers, sometimes just greenery with a ribbon attached. He went more often, he simply didn’t tell his children or his mother about the visits. He knew the Trips went on the sly, too. They just didn’t talk about it either.
His thumbs worked at the dust on the picture he was holding. “I’m getting married, Margie.” He looked around, then up at the ceiling as though he expected his dead wife to materialize. “I meant to go to the cemetery to tell you. I swear, I meant to.”
He tried to remember the last time he’d visited his wife’s grave. Years.
Shame and guilt engulfed him. He hunkered into himself, his emotions running wild.
Jonathan set the picture back where it belonged on his desk and picked up the phone. He dialed the Laurel Hills Assisted Living Facility. Ten minutes later he hung up the phone, his heart thumping in his chest. His mother was still AWOL. The Trips’s cell phone didn’t respond to his calls, an eerie-sounding voice saying the customer he was trying to reach was out of calling range. Where were they?
“Hattie!” he bellowed.
“What?” she bellowed back.
“Come here!”
“I’m busy, Mister Cisco. Someone has to take care of business. You’re just thinking.”
Hattie never called him Mister Cisco. Never. He needed to pay attention to these little things. He lumbered up out of his chair and walked out to her desk. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Whatever it is, you’ll have to do it yourself. I’m too busy, and I’m on my own time today just the way John and Henry are on their own time. What?”
“Sometimes you really are ugly, Hattie. I want these,” he said, pulling the Trips’s promise lists out of his wallet, “framed.”
Hattie reached for the lists and opened one of them. For one intense moment, he thought Hattie was going to cry. Instead, she squared her plump shoulders, and said, “You broke every single one of these promises. I’m on their side. That means, do it yourself, bubba!”
Jonathan reached for the lists. “When did you turn so ugly?”
“The same time you did. I’m busy now. Go think some more.”
“You’re hateful, Hattie.” He looked down the long room, to where John and Henry were sitting. They refused to look at him.
“I own this company. A little respect goes a long way.”
“Your mother owns this company, and until some lawyer tells me differently, I report only to her. You have to earn respect,” Hattie snapped. “You are dismissed, Mister Cisco.”
If he’d had a tail, it would have been between his legs as he slunk down the hall toward his mother’s office. He opened the door and stepped in. Like her room at the apartment, it smelled like Cisco. It was neat and orderly, just the way she was.
He walked over to the old rolltop desk and felt something tug at his heart. All the little cubbies were filled. There was no dust. That had to mean Hattie cleaned the office. The green plants Cisco loved were healthy and vibrant. Hattie must water them, too. There was no dust on the pictures either.
The far wall was what Cisco called the family wall. She proudly showed it off to vendors and distributors as well as new customers. There was a story for every picture.
He looked down at the last two rows of pictures. Everyone was there but him. Four years’ worth of pictures and not one of him. He thought his heart was going to leap right out of his chest. It was Cisco’s way of telling him he didn’t belong to the family anymore without saying the words aloud.
The sudden feeling of loss he experienced was so overwhelming, he thought he was going to black out.
Ten minutes later he was in his car. He had no destination in mind, knowing only that he didn’t want to go back to the apartment. He didn’t want to go over seating arrangements for his wedding dinner; nor did he want to discuss flowers and satin ribbons. He wanted to think.
/> Alexandra didn’t sweat. Hattie had made it sound so profound. Was he just being a stupid, dumb male, or was sweating really important? His son, Sam, would probably know, but Sam didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe he needed to test Hattie’s theory by suggesting to Alexandra that they work out together.
Twenty minutes later he parked the car. Rockefeller Center. He and Margie used to bring the Trips here to ice-skate. Maybe he could get a latte, shift into neutral, and think. Before he exited the car, he dialed the Trips’s cell phone number again. The same eerie voice said the customer he was calling was still out of calling range. Shoulders slumped, he locked the car and headed for the steps that would take him down to the ice-skating rink and more memories.
* * *
They were gathered in the sunroom to say good-bye. It was an exceptional room, with its wide, panoramic view of the mountains that showed off the light dusting of snow that had fallen during the night. The trees and shrubs looked pretty, like the front of a Christmas card. The lighting inside was subdued, making everything seem warm and cozy. A gas fire burned brightly, more for atmosphere than warmth.
“I hate to leave, it’s so warm and toasty here,” Sara said.
“I wish you’d get a move on. If the temperature keeps dropping, the roads are going to freeze. I can hold the fort. Don’t worry about us,” Sam said. Freddie barked in agreement.
“Sam’s right, girls, go now and be sure to call as soon as you arrive safe and sound.”
“We will, Cisco,” the girls said, as they hugged her and Freddie. “I’m so glad they allow dogs to visit here in this room. Joel told me this morning that they have pet day every Friday for the patients,” Sara said.
“Will you just go already,” Sam said with feigned exasperation. “And if you smack up my car, your ass is grass, Sara.”
“Nag, nag, nag. Bye everyone. We’ll call when we get home, and make sure you call us in the morning after Cisco’s surgery. By the way, before I forget, Hannah called Laurel Hills and told them Cisco is with us enjoying a little holiday. She didn’t offer up any additional details. She then called Dad’s private number and spoke to Alexandra, who said Dad went out early this morning and has been gone all day. She said she didn’t know where he went because he didn’t leave a note. Hanny said Alexandra sounded like she was telling the truth. Anyway, Hanny told her Cisco was with us, and you were fine and dandy. End of call. Okay, okay, we’re going.” Another round of hugs and kisses ensued before they left the sunroom. Freddie hopped off Cisco’s lap, her scarf trailing on the floor as she scampered to the door with them for one last good-bye.
No Place Like Home (Holiday Classics) Page 7