“And the decoy in this case will be?” Isabella asked.
Chapter 20 - On The Run
“They may even be connected to the mob.”
Spencer trying to persuade “Charlene” not to marry Jimmy
Once they were sitting in the back seat of Jimmy’s Nissan Altima, with Cyrus driving in the front, Isabella relaxed a bit.
“By the way, Max, how did it go with the nonnas?”
“Terrific, they loved me. I think the kids will get their air conditioning after all. By the way, you look great in Dior.”
Isabella was wearing one of Charlene’s trademark suits, for this occasion in white. Max had taken a very quick shower and put on one of Jimmy’s work suits.
“You really think your Uncle Spencer will follow us to Elkton instead of going to the airport? I am so happy for Jimmy and Charlene, it is great that they can do the whole Parisian theme there in Vegas.”
“Not to worry, even if he did catch up with them, they would be able to stand their ground. They’re in love,” sighed Max.
Once Max and Isabella arrived at the wedding chapel, they were told that it was closed and would open again early in the morning. Wanting to continue the charade and throw Uncle Spencer off the trail, they decided to stay in a hotel room overnight. With one room reserved for Max and Cyrus, put in Jimmy’s name, and another room reserved in Charlene’s name, to be used by Isabella, they were ready for any contingency.
Since Spencer Ivy would most definitely make initial contact with his grand-niece Charlene, Max felt it would be best to spend time in Isabella’s room. He wanted to hold the fort for his favorite niece, and, Isabella was easy on the eyes. He enjoyed spending time with her and being in her presence, and looked for any reason to do so.
“Want a foot rub?” Max asked Isabella, who was taking off her shoe and giving her foot a little pinch as she stood by the window to the outdoors.
“Sure, but not right now. I think I see your uncle walking towards the main entrance. He has a scowl on his face. I’m glad you’re here to watch my back.” Isabella said.
“Honey, I’ll watch your back anytime, speaking of …” Max was interrupted by a loud pounding at the door.
“Charlene, I know you’re in there.” Uncle Spencer intoned.
“Yes.” Max, imitating Charlene’s high-pitched voice, replied from behind the door. Isabella stifled a hearty laugh.
“I just can’t let you marry that fellow. I know he seems perfectly nice, but there’s lots of baggage that you are unaware of. Open the door, there are some truths you need to hear, dear.” Spencer said.
“No way, you’re just making things up. You just don’t like that he’s a regular guy and not a member of the jet set.” This time it was Isabella who pretended to be Charlene.
“I don’t want to broadcast your business all over this hotel hallway, but I guess I must. I can’t let you marry that young man. Look at that family he comes from. His father had ties to organized crime and died in a mysterious way.” Spencer said. “Why else do you think Jimmy and his mother go by her maiden name, Albero? That name is synonymous with landscaping around the Main Line, but his father’s last name is synonymous with organized crime. She wouldn’t be hosting a TV show with that last name; people know what they are about,” he said.
At this affront to her late uncle Joel, Isabella opened the door and confronted Spencer. “First of all, Mr. Ivy, my uncle Joel was a well- respected member of the community. Secondly, he was killed by a hit and run driver. It was a tragedy. And third, this is a bunch of ethnic stereotyping and slander. Italian-Americans have contributed to this country in countless positive ways! We helped build the bridges you drive on, we are astronauts and Supreme Court judges, and…well, you get my point!”
“I see…so you and Max are trying to throw me off the track. Well, I just want to self-advocate. I am doing this because I care deeply about my family and I don’t want to see them make the same mistakes that I did. Now, you owe me this much, Max. Who gave you the money for that rowing trip to England back in college? Quid pro quo, here. Tell me where Charlene and James are?” demanded Spencer, who felt entitled to a reply.
“Max doesn’t owe you a thing,” Isabella interjected.
“Yes, Uncle Spencer,” Max said. “I think it is your turn to man up. You’ve gone too far this time; you owe Isabella an apology for these lies and innuendo. Plus, I think you should take us out to dinner. I’m hungry, and you owe it to us. He looked down at his watch. “And Jimmy and Charlene should be touching down in their destination right about now, and it is too late for you to stop them, so we have a wedding to celebrate!”
Chapter 21 - The Reception
“Truth be told, I enjoyed each and every moment of those escapades. I never felt so alive.” Max to Isabella at the reception
Charlene and Jimmy made it to Vegas, got hitched, and then called home with the news and information about their return flight.
When the happy newlyweds returned to the Ivy mansion, everything was in disarray. There was a note saying that Harrison and Camille were putting together a reception at The Saxon Country Club for the immediate family, and that they should join them there.
The country club opened up the dance floor and a speaker system was set up to play music. As Isabella and Max danced and danced some more, they were totally in sync and moved gracefully together.
Max took a break and headed to get refreshments for himself and his parched dancing partner. His mother pulled him aside.
“Max, think about what you are doing. You are returning to California next week. It would be cruel to get into anything serious.”
“Mother, you are, and have always been a snob,” he said, and started to walk off.
His father stepped in and said, “Listen to your mother; she has something of importance to say.”
Camille added, “Yes, son, I do. I am not, nor have I ever been overly status conscious. This isn’t about all that social class mumbo jumbo. Isabella is, like so many of the people who live around here, provincial. She will live here her whole life. But you, you son are a citizen of the world.”
“Gee, Mother, is the sort of world I come from the kind where people make up false stories about the dead and lie and steal to get their way? If so, maybe I need to be more like Isabella and less of the world,” Max retorted.
He waited for that to sink in and then stormed off. He ended up walking a distance to the edge of the woods that surround the country club. Coincidentally, that is where he found Isabella.
“Hi,” said Max, “I guess we have a similar response to social gatherings - find the nearest way out.”
“Yes,” Isabella said, breaking from her train of thought. “I have been putting a lot of things in God’s hands and using the power of prayer. I…” She stammered a bit, unsure of the words. “I need to apologize to you. I was so cruel to you at the shore. You are not your father. It is unfair for me to judge you on the basis of his mistakes.”
“Isabella, all my life my parents have tried to select activities, friends, even professions that they feel are worthy of me. Some part of me always felt that they did this because they cared about me. But, the truth is that they cared about their own reputation and status, and saw me as a vehicle to enhancement of these things. The labels of the clothing that I wore, the name of the colleges that I attended, this meant more to them than anything. The real me, the man inside, was never of importance, Isabella,” Max explained, “When I’m with you, I feel so alive and so real.”
Looking out at the expansive greenery at The Saxon Country Club, Max put a protective arm around Isabella’s waist. An autumn breeze rustled through from the surrounding woods.
“Max, I am sorry that your parents are not more supportive of you the way you are. You are a very special person. Does this mean that I am forgiven for the way I ordered you around at Long Beach Island, and the tricky way I swindled you in billiards, and the time I abducted you?,” she asked.
&nb
sp; “Apology accepted. Truth be told, I enjoyed each moment of those escapades. I never felt so alive. Please, get to know me better. I think we have a lot in common.” Max said. “For one thing, we both grew up in the same place.”
Isabella was flooded by memories of childhood, of dreams of pony rides and fantasies of her youth, back when she lived at the Ivy estate and anything was possible.
Maxed turned to face her, and asked her if she had ever considered living anyplace other than the Main Line, as this area was where she had always called home.
“I have always wondered what it would be like to garden in a different climate zone, but I think I’d miss my dad and the company we have worked so hard to build,” she answered honestly, touched by his keen interest in her inner workings. “Why do you ask?”
Just as Max, who was nervous and a bit dizzy by this point, was about to ask a very pressing, personal question, there was an announcement over the speakers of the sound system.
“The Bride and Groom are about to cut the cake! Come to the portico, everyone!”
Their moment of solitude lost, they headed to see Jimmy and Charlene cut their cake.
Although some folks still snicker about Jimmy and Charlene’s low-scale honeymoon, others were touched and found it hopelessly romantic. The North Beach shore house, each room decorated to represent a different country, was the perfect destination for the very much in-love couple.
But, while Jimmy and Charlene relaxed and unwound, the rest of the family was actively involved in renovating and reinventing the garden space of the newlyweds’ home.
Chapter 22 - Finally Getting Down and Dirty
“The reason that I love fountains is that they symbolize hope. Throw your pennies in the fountain and make a wish upon a fountain, and it will happen.”
Julia describing her penchant for garden statuary
“Ah, I see you go gloveless, too.” Max remarked, as he set to work beside Isabella planting the foundation shrubs along the mulched border.
“Can’t find a pair of gloves that let me get the precision that I get without them,” she explained.
“Isabella,” Max stopped what he was doing to look her in the eyes, “it took me a while, but I do remember you from high school. I think I need to apologize, and explain for myself. You always seemed so overly serious, and I just wanted to see you smile. I sensed that there was a playful side to your personality, and it bothered me that you were never in the crowd just having fun.”
“My mom passed away when I was in eighth grade. It was devastating. I think it took me a long time to get over her passing,” she said.
“I didn’t know. Oh, I’m so sorry. Well, that might explain why my dad wanted you and Dan off the estate.” Max said.
“Why is that? He wanted to make us suffer even more? He felt we needed more trials and tribulations?”
“No. I know my father, and he is very possessive. He may not have wanted a single, handsome man like your dad around his wife. Maybe he thought my mom had a tender heart towards your dad, or something.”
“Your father is possessive all right. He thought my dad stole $500 bucks! Either way, it is over and done with.”
“I can’t excuse the bad things that my dad did and said,” Max explained, “but I can ask your forgiveness. Also, I can ask you to consider giving me another chance. But, if it isn’t me that you are looking for, please don’t give up on having a good relationship. There has to be someone out there who is just right for you.”
“Well, that ship has sailed, too. All I hear is ‘You’re a nice girl, but,’ and then it is excuse, excuse, breakup. I’m sick and tired of being the nice girl doormat,” she said.
“Don’t give up on dating; there are nice guys out there who will respect your waiting,” Max assured her.
“Sure, they’ll respect it. Then, they’ll conveniently lose my phone number,” replied Isabella, sullenly.
“Well, I think what is missing in our society is restraint.” Max replied. “I’ve got randy fans throwing panties at me. It gets me thinking, there has to be something more to life than this. Relations between men and women should be a spiritual undertaking.”
“You mean Max Ivy has a spiritual side?” Isabella asked.
“Isabella, take a good look at this chrysanthemum flower we’re planting. No, don’t deadhead the few wilted ones, just really focus on the vibrant petals, bursting with vitality. The Chinese call that “chi,” which loosely translates to ‘life force.’ All living things have it.” Max explained. “Sure, I have a spiritual side.”
“I got acupuncture to help with some repetitive joint pain and the holistic practitioner, Roxanne Laurento, also does some shiatsu massage. She talks about chi all the time. There are meridians through the body and sometimes she even gives my feet a massage. I love that, she said.”
“Well, I would offer to give you foot rubs any old time you ask. But, first, let me show you some stretches for gardening that my personal trainer taught me. They prevent some of those repetitive injuries, especially back strain,” Max said.
Max demonstrated some stretches which highlighted his limber and lithe limbs. As he moved his elbow above his head to demonstrate a tricep exercise, she felt a jolt of heat. She was starting to forget about the reason for these moves, getting in shape for gardening, and got distracted by Max’s form.
However, Isabella was taken out of the moment by the sound of her aunt’s voice. Anya, who never enjoyed gardening in the least, was offering some help in this project.
Anya Albero, Jimmy’s busy mom, came over to say “Hello” and to offer her kind of help. “These flowers were left over from our home and garden show, and were too shabby to sell after all the manhandling they got on the set.”
“Ah, you mean they are “Spokesmodel-Hydrangeas?” deadpanned Max.
“Well, I consider it more like a “Save the Seals” type of thing, I mean, it is pretty droopy,” answered Anya.
“I’ll perk them up with a special plant tonic Dad taught me years ago,” said Isabella.
“Where is that brother of mine, I thought he’d be in his glory here, and he’s always been close to his nephew, my Jimmy,” Anya said.
“He’s helping an apple orchard near Morgantown to go organic. Get a kick out of this, the owner’s name is Candy, and Dad calls the farm “Candy Land,” said Isabella.
Anya chuckled and bid them farewell.
“Hmm,” commented Max, after a period of silence.
“What’s “Hmm” supposed to mean?” asked Isabella.
“Well, is she single?”
“Yeah, are you interested?” Isabella replied.
“No, but your dad might be. You said just the other day that he seemed so distracted lately. Maybe he’s smitten. Besides, Candy’s not my type.”
“Oh, really? Then what, exactly, is your type?” she asked.
“Someone passionate, lovely, and currently covered from head to toe in mulch.” Max teased.
He cupped his dirt-covered hands on her face, kissed her succulent mouth, and took her breath away.
“Really, Isabella, you must reconsider this not-dating thing. You’re just too young to give up on the dream of happy forever after. There’s plenty of time for us to get to know each other and see.”
“Max, age has nothing to do with it. When it comes to dating guys, I’ve been burned.”
“Well, I’d like to show you how to deal with that very problem,” he teased, as he started a playful water fight.
“You two kids, what kind of work ethic is this? I leave you in charge, Isabella, and you look like you’ve taken up mud wrestling.” It was Dan, teasing his all-grown-up Pumpkin.
He stopped by, with his “arm Candy.”
“Is my sister around?” Dan asked, “I want to introduce her to Candy.”
“She had to leave so that she could fill in for the jewelry show host who had complications following a, uh, particularly unnecessary plastic surgery,” said Isabella.
“Oh,” replied Candy, “I heard about that on the entertainment news. She was augmenting her, um…I can’t say it in mixed company.”
“Well,” said Gardener Dan, “as long as she isn’t hawking plants, I’ll keep watching. I love my sister, but she knows nothing about flowers. The whole time we were growing up she refused to do anything that would get dirt under her fingernails.”
“Yeah,” replied Isabella, “I even gave Aunt Anya a really nice pair of garden gloves from Olivia’s Gardens one year for her birthday. She gave them back with a note that said they would scratch up her polish and that I would put them to better use. I still have them, but, as you can see, I prefer to garden without them.”
Prune, Plant, or Plunder? Page 10