While Jimmy and Charlene made moon faces together, her cousin replied, “Sure, you’ve always talked about that; you’d be the gardening nun, kind of like the singing nun or flying nun or something,” he said.
Max, who had never heard of such a plan, asked, “Is being on a date with me really souring you to all of this romantic companionship? Wow, that’s quite a blow to my masculinity. I think I better watch a football game, drink beer, and get some swear words in just to feel better.”
Isabella saw Cyrus smile out of the corner of her eye. She appraised the bodyguard and asked, “Is that what you and Cyrus do when you’re not on the job?”
Max was not really eager to talk about himself or Cyrus, the brooding bodyguard, or really anything other than the lovely creature next to him, so he turned the topic to Isabella and her background.
“You know, earlier you mentioned that you went to Lower Merion. What year did you graduate?” Max asked.
As their conversation turned to their graduating year, it dawned on Max that he must have, at one point, seen her in the halls, the yearbook, or in the lunchroom.
“Did you look, well, remarkably different? Like, have you changed your appearance quite a bit? Why didn’t I think to bring the old yearbook - that would settle this for good. It is killing me that I don’t remember you.”
Jimmy, overhearing everything, said, “You know, my cousin has always been really religious, kept a low profile, and just liked to observe other people.”
As their party of six looked over and tasted a few of the ice cream selections, Isabella’s curiosity got the best of her and she asked Max how he got into gardening.
“Well, years ago, I must have been 14 or so, we had in our employ a gardener who was just simply the best. He showed me how to take care of plants, how to really take care of anything, that’s for sure. It was a rough time for me and, his name was Dan. He really got me thinking of how I could be not just a good gardener, but a better person.
Charlene, interrupting, said, “You are not going to believe this, but Isabella’s dad is named Dan, and he’s a gardener, and Jimmy, didn’t you tell me he used to work at some of the big estates in the area?”
“My grandfather was your grandfather’s gardener, and my dad served your father in that capacity as well, until 1992 or so.” Isabella explained.
“Isabella, are you serious? I never put two and two together. I can’t believe I didn’t know that Uncle Dan was Charlene’s grandfather’s gardener. Char, this is so great, it is another connection between us. It is like kismet or something.” Jimmy gushed.
“I will never forget Gardener Dan, he was my first and very best mentor,” Max said in a gentle tone. “My folks were applying the usual pressure to follow in Dad’s footsteps; Ivy League, grad school, and then get into a very high-paying line of work. My dad made it quite clear that the idea of studying landscape design was totally forbidden. But, I did it anyway, and he never knew about it until I started on the Homes on the Move program. I had to triple major in Economics, Foreign Policy, and Landscape Design. It was a rigorous line of study and required five years, but the rowing scholarship I got kept me in demand at the college. They also gave me a teaching subsidy to serve as an assistant teacher for some of the freshman classes. My parents knew only that I was studying to be a diplomat or a senator, and that the rowing coach liked having me around.”
Isabella was impressed with Max’s scholarly devotion to their mutual craft, and his high regard for her father. But, she still kept wondering about the ripped out plants that she saw strewn all over Dan’s shed. She made a mental note to ask him about that later, sometime when they could talk in a more private location. The idea of being in a secluded spot with Max, instead of repulsing her, now made her tingle and shiver all over. This was a new and welcome sensation, and it felt very right.
“Well, here my parents were, during my college years, bragging about their son, the future business man, diplomat or whatever, and here I was, trying to figure out how to get a gig working outside under the big sky and taking care of the plants the way my pal Dan had taught me. Truthfully, he was the only person who ever really gave a crap about what I wanted out of life, and didn’t just want me to be what they wanted me to be.”
“Sir, if I may ask,” Cyrus pried, “how could such a lovely young lady evade your radar, if, let’s say, she was living in your gatehouse for your entire youth?”
“Cyrus is asking, how could I be so invisible?” Isabella’s sense of justice was piqued. “That’s a good question. Back then, ‘the help’ used back entrances, didn’t spend time with the family, kept to ourselves or risk getting kicked out. But, in our case, we got kicked out even though we followed every rule.”
“Ironically, however, my dad never held it against any of you. And Max, you were one of his favorites. My dad always did say nice things about you, and at graduation and the school play he was sure to see what you were up to,” said Isabella.
At this revelation, Max’s ears perked up, sort of like a border collie. A new light came into his eyes, and he was more curious than ever.
“You know, come to think of it, I always did sort of think I saw him at those events, but I thought it was just wishful thinking. I mean, why would a former gardener be coming to see me?” There was a gentle hitch in Max’s voice, and for a few minutes, he was not the international playboy, or the grown-up Main Line aristocrat, but, merely, a boy who missed his favorite mentor.
Trying to get the conversation a tad lighter, Jimmy mentioned that it was the first time that he’d seen his cousin enjoy French cuisine, and he thanked Max for helping his cousin with the menu. To that, Max replied, “It was my pleasure. Did you know that the American, Julia Child, was the first to write an English language cookbook of French food? And, Julia was in the diplomatic corps.”
“Was she a master spy and a master chef?” Charlene asked.
Isabella, who was happy to change the subject, said, “No, she was just a typist at the state department, her husband was a diplomat, and she had free time and wanted to learn how to cook in France. She fell in love with that cuisine and lifestyle and wanted to share it with her countrymen.”
Max said, “So, she was able to pursue her dreams, find herself, still be married, and in love. No need to join the chaste nuns of whatever, Isabella.”
That’s when it hit him, the name Isabella. An echo of a childhood taunt, “Izzie, Izzie rhymes with dizzy,” rang in his head…
She was that Isabella. The overly serious one with the big tortoise-shell glasses, which hid her almond-shaped eyes, porcelain skin, and just about her whole face. Young Isabella’s hair was in an unfashionable hairdo, and frequently in braids. She was that urchin who lived near the train station. He cringed; he was the bane of her existence.
“Weeds are the bane of my existence,” she said, as if reading his mind, as if he were a weed. “My dad taught me some really nontoxic ways to clear out the brush on a new site, so we aren’t just sharing space with the weeds, you know, cohabitating.”
At the sound of the word, “cohabitation,” images of a scantily clad and fully toned female gardener lying on his bed flooded his mind. However, the woman in front of him was fully dressed, and fully serious. She probably was so uptight she wouldn’t even kiss a man on a first date, let alone someone who had been so rude to her back in school.
He recalled that when she was crossing past his friends at the train station, they would tease her mercilessly. She was just so cute being a teenager and wearing braids, they called her “Miz Izzie” because she held her head up high and was sort of above everyone. Looking back, she might not have enjoyed the taunting.
Memories of his youth filtered through to his consciousness. Come to think of it, he thought, maybe he had seen her at the estate a few times. So, she was Dan’s daughter. That would explain why she was so passionate about gardening.
“You know, the Ivy estate has never been quite as beautiful since your dad left the
scene. He left so suddenly.” Max was really heartbroken when he learned that Dan was going to be leaving and that he wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye. He went to the shed to find him, but was told that Dan had already left the estate, for good. No reason was given, and it was one of the most disappointing times in his life.
“Well, he didn’t want to go, or anything, but they didn’t give him a choice,” she confided, sadly.
“Who didn’t give him a choice, his new business partners?” Max asked, suddenly curious, as someone gets when a decades-old mystery is about to be solved.
She looked at him, directly, and said, “Your dad kicked us off the land, said it was time to go and to not come back. Then he accused my dad of stealing $500, which my dad would never do.”
At the word of $500, Max was shocked! He vaguely recalled something about missing money back then, but he couldn’t put it all together and his head was spinning.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to head home. It has been a delightful afternoon and evening, and I need to get some rest. Thank you, Charlene and Jimmy, for your hospitality. I’ll walk back to my car.” Max hastily excused himself from the gathering, hoping to go home to get some answers from his parents.
Chapter 10 - Prune, Plant, or Pilfer?
“There was no missing $500.”
Camille to her son, Max
When Max returned home, he immediately summoned his mother, who had been expecting this interrogation since she had heard that the gardeners pretty, little girl was now in the scene. She wasn’t relishing the opportunity to describe her character flaws and mistakes from the past, but, in some ways it was a relief to finally confess.
“There was no missing $500, it was not like that,” said a remorseful Camille Ivy to her son, Max.
“What are you telling me, Mother?” Max asked in a weary tone of voice. He was already feeling like a heel for having made someone, especially someone so lovely, feel invisible. The last thing he wanted was for his family to have played a part in a sad chapter in Isabella’s life.
“I am positive, Max, dear,” Camille began her explanation, “that with time and careful thought you would understand and forgive me. I was finding myself shopping more and more, with all of the functions that we are expected to attend. The saleswomen would call me up to share the latest on an unadvertised sale, and she had a dress that was just my size,” explained Camille.
“It wasn’t an addiction, or anything. I just had to maintain a certain standard in my apparel. Really, spending $500 wasn’t a great deal of money at all, for a dress to attend the sort of functions that Main Line families like us are pressed into attending,” said Camille. “There are always so many charitable events and fundraisers, you wouldn’t even believe it. The point is that my credit card bill was in the tens of thousands, and I didn’t want to max it out, so I took the cash from your father’s drawer without mentioning it him.”
By the time she heard of the gardener’s dismissal, it was really too late to set everything straight. She just allowed the misunderstanding, and was sure to pass on some good words of recommendation to her friends who may need landscaping work. They understood about the shopping, it was something that was routinely done. “I thought it was for the best,” said Mrs. Ivy, “and I never expected it to bite me in the back in this way.”
“Well, Mother, I guess you aren’t the only one that has to make amends to the Albero family,” responded a crestfallen Max. Perhaps, he thought, by making a terrific garden for Jimmy and Charlene, we can put this all in the past. All it will take is for me to work peacefully with Isabella, and how difficult can that be?
As Camille and Max, fully reliving the errors of the past, were reduced to fitful slumbers in their different bedchambers, Rochelle slept like a baby.
While her clueless husband slept, she was tying up the last details to make a seamless flight to the Cayman Islands. All the physical training and Botox was making her more attractive, but she still just felt like helpless Regina. The offshore cosmetic surgery would allow her to become the kind of classy broad that would attract to her all kinds of opportunities. In just two days, she would be able to begin her new life.
That night, Max tossed and turned in a deep slumber. It was a typical humid summer evening, the type of weather when at any time, a storm may break.
He was having a packed lunch in a wicker basket filled with cheese and crackers and fresh fruit. They sat down at the most remote picnic table at Valley Forge National Park. Her long skirt bundled up around her legs. The lady, brunette with long, luscious wavy hair and cherry red lips, was dressed in old fashioned, elegant clothing. They were eating cherries and joking about how they should have brought an umbrella. The sky was rapidly darkening; climate could be so changeable in July.
Just as she got up to see a deer off in the distance, she tripped on some equipment left over from some previous campers. He joked that if it rained, he would have to walk her back to the awaiting car. All of a sudden, rain started teeming down.
Max swooped in and snuggled the lovely lady in his arms, carrying her to safety.
He awoke alone, to the rising sun and drenched in sweat, with one name on his lips, “Isabella.”
Chapter 11 - Breakfast of Champions
“We named him Maximilian because he’ll make a million.”
Harrison Alexander Ivy to his father, Spencer, upon the birth of his son
The Ivy’s idea of a simple family brunch would appear extravagant to some. To celebrate Max’s visit home, Camille instructed Cook to create a salmon pate and cold vegetable tray with assorted quiches and crepes.
The family was slowly trickling into the breakfast room when Harrison Alexander Ivy entered with a loud, “Maximilian, it’s good to see you. Have you made your first million yet?”
He vigorously shook his son’s hand.
“Uh, hi Dad, I’m on the phone with my agent, I’ll be with you shortly.” Max cringed at the unintended pun.
“Make it snappy. In my day, you wouldn’t dare talk on the phone at a meal,” Mr. Ivy commanded. “I guess the girls are busy with wedding planning, so we have you all to ourselves right now.”
Mindy, his agent, had attended a movie premier with some of her clients the previous night. The partying had continued until the wee hours of the morning, capped off with some caffeine-loaded alcohol-based shooters. While New York is the city that doesn’t sleep, it was from Los Angeles that Max’s agent called. She had not yet gone to sleep, and desperately wanted to get some projects going.
Mindy continued, “Through an East Coast contact, I’ve gotten wind of this dueling gardener thing you have going with the sexy brunette. I hear there’s amazing, hot, sexy chemistry and I’m seeing lots of possibilities here. The reality TV market is always looking for fresh blood.”
“No, I’m not interested,” said Max, quite bluntly. “Thanks, though. And, please do not take this project idea beyond this phone conversation.”
“The heck I’m not!” replied the wound-up-tight agent with a killer buzz. “We’re talking big ratings, big exposure, and…” Max knew what was coming next, “big bucks!”
“Unless the program you have in mind is rated G for green, this girl will not be interested. She is only about the environment. We’re not an item, and she’s practically a nun. Please, just leave it alone,” pleaded Max.
Realizing that she was not making any headway, Mindy decided to backpedal a little. “Well I am sorry to hear you aren’t interested. If you change your mind, that nun angle has some possibilities,” Mindy plead.
“Oh, and speaking of the environment, what’s with the banana peels? I agreed to open your packages when it was panties, because that was fun and I could soak them in Clorox and give them a good machine wash, and add them to my thong collection. These banana peels, I’ve got to say, are slime city. We had enough to start a compost pile. Oh, I’ve go to go, the caffeine is wearing off and I’m about to crash.”
“Goodbye to you,
too,” Max deadpanned.
“Well, Dad, I’m all yours,” Max said, turning to his father.
“Max, I’m glad to hear that there is nothing going on with that Isabella woman,” his father said.
“And this would be because?” questioned an angry Max.
“We’ve agreed to allow Charlene to marry down. She was going with that rough crowd for a while, you remember, the party-hearty crowd. We were worried she would end up on drugs or covered in tattoos. The day she met James at the Phillies game was a miracle. He is a nice, clean young man. She can help raise his daughter and give her a stable home. By the time Lacey is a busy teen, or in college, Charlene will be ready to find a more appropriate husband.”
“Your father is saying that this is Charlene’s starter marriage, Max. Everybody knows that,” said a quiet and reserved Camille.
Prune, Plant, or Plunder? Page 5