by Abigail Keam
Matt looked like the ’50s matinee movie idol Victor Mature, who was from Louisville. Noted for acting with his forehead, Mature was once asked if he was bothered playing Samson’s father in a TV remake of Mature’s epic film Samson and Delilah, as he had played the virile Samson years before. Mature said, “If the money’s right, I’d play his mother.”
Behind Matt, straggled in Charles dragging a little red wagon full of gifts.
“Charles, how wonderful,” I gushed. “You changed your mind about joining us.” I peered around him, looking for the rest of the family.
“We’re busy cooking for tonight. Now don’t fill up too much because we’ve got a big dinner coming. We’re cooking what we want to eat, not that hoity-toity food she orders,” grinned Charles, thumbing at Lady Elsmere.
Lady Elsmere rolled her eyes and made straight for Asa’s companion. “Who are you?”
“My name is Boris,” he replied haltingly.
Lady Elsmere patted him on the arm. “Of course, you are.” She winked at Asa. “Salut,” she murmured before downing her champagne. “Oh, my dears, you don’t have any bubbly.”
“We’re not having any,” replied Asa.
Lady Elsmere snapped her fingers at Franklin, who rushed over with filled glasses. She took several and handed them to Asa and Boris. “You don’t have to drink. Just pretend you’re having a good time.” Then she took two glasses for herself. “Killjoys,” she murmured under her breath.
“That’s what I said,” confided Franklin as they strode away.
Asa burst out laughing at Boris’ confused expression. “Don’t expect sanity here. Kentucky is known for its eccentrics.”
“Eccentrics?”
“Kooks, my dear Boris. Crazies.”
“Ah, crazies. Yes.”
I made a Screwdriver and took it to Boris. “You’ll like this better.”
Boris sniffed it suspiciously.
“It’s got vodka in it.”
Boris shook his head and handed the glass back to me. “I don’t like vodka. Thank you.”
“Hell has certainly frozen over,” I quipped.
“What?” asked Boris.
“Oh, Mother is commenting on her stereotypical idea of Eastern Europeans.”
“If a Kentuckian were a guest in your home, wouldn’t you offer him bourbon first?” I replied, defending myself. “Let’s try this. Boris, what would you like to drink?”
“Tomato juice.”
“Coming right up.” I asked Franklin to get Boris a virgin Blood Mary.
“Everyone. Let’s sit down.”
“No presents first?” complained Franklin.
“Franklin, you’re just like a kid,” commented Matt.
“What’s wrong with that?” replied Franklin. “You act like an old man.”
“Be nice, children,” I remarked. “We have so many things to be thankful for.”
“Like?” asked Franklin.
“Well, I made it another year,” laughed Lady Elsmere.
“To the Queen of Lexington,” we all said, lifting our glasses in concordance.
I continued. “I’m doing much better. My therapy is almost at its end. I feel pretty good most of the time. Asa is with us and not stuck in some dreary hospital. We have a new friend, Boris. And Matt has a baby on the way.”
Everyone clapped.
Baby thumped his giant head on the table, licking the tablecloth.
“And Baby has just four more months of being a puppy.” I kissed the top of his massive head.
Baby panted and swallowed a great amount of drool.
“If it wasn’t for Baby, I wouldn’t be here,” remarked Asa. She stood holding up a glass of water. “Here’s to Baby.”
We all stood and saluted Baby.
After we sat back down, I made everyone put on the paste diamond tiaras and wave the wands I had placed on their plates. I even had a tiara for Baby, which he loved. Even the manly Boris got silly and wore his headpiece.
Christmas breakfast lasted until early afternoon. Finally Matt took Lady Elsmere home, along with Franklin who squeezed an invitation to nap in one of the guest rooms at the Big House until dinner.
Boris agreed to stay. Asa showed him to a guest bedroom to rest while I headed for my room.
I needed to digest my breakfast to make room for Charles’ Christmas dinner. I intended to eat until I could barely roll myself home . . . or I popped.
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Old fashioned chicken and dumplings, baked ham topped with pineapple and cherries, macaroni and cheese, turnip greens, mashed potatoes smothered with gravy, fried corn, candied yams, carrot raisin salad, apple pear salad, cranberry sauce, dinner rolls and cornbread, gobs of butter, sweet potato pie and pound cake with bourbon hard sauce.
“What is this?” asked Boris, pointing to the hard sauce.
Amelia replied, “It’s a Southern topping for cakes and pies. It’s made with powdered sugar, melted butter and as much bourbon as you can stand whipped into a thick cream. Here’s a spoonful. See if you like it.”
Boris licked a bit of the topping from the spoon. “Whew, that is strong,” he gushed, looking at Asa.
Asa smiled back. “Come on. You sit by me.”
At Lady Elsmere’s Christmas dinner, there was no employee or employer. Just family. There wasn’t even a Lady Elsmere, just June from Monkey’s Eyebrow.
June motioned for her nephew, Tony, to sit down with his valet, Giles.
“Where are the seating cards?” asked Tony incredulously.
“Just sit your butt down anywhere,” ordered June.
Bess put the last bowl on the table and sat between her father, Charles, and her son, who pushed in her chair.
June looked around. “Everyone here?”
Charles nodded.
June bowed her head. “Dear Lord, thank you for everyone being together and in good health. Thank you for our wonderful friendships and all the good grub. Amen.” She looked up grinning. “Let’s eat, children.”
Everyone grabbed the bowl in front of them, piled food on their plate and then passed the bowl to the left. It was a noisy affair with everyone talking and laughing at once.
An hour later we were in the library in front of a large fire, admiring June’s Christmas tree that reached the top of the fourteen-foot ceiling.
There was also a beautiful silver menorah on the fireplace mantel.
June pointed to it. “My good friend, Rabbi Geffen, is coming this week for tea. I wanted him to feel at home.”
“He’ll appreciate the gesture,” I assured.
“Here’s something for you,” she said, handing me a beautifully wrapped box.
“You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did,” I kidded as I opened the box. “Oh, June. I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
June closed my fingers over a diamond brooch in the shape of a butterfly. “I won’t be here much longer, Josiah. It’s time to let go of things so others can enjoy them. This is the first piece of jewelry my first husband bought me when he made his money. It’s special to me. I want you to have it.”
Hearing ooohs and ahhhs in the room, I turned to see others opening their gifts from June. Each woman had received a piece of jewelry from June’s fabulous collection.
Asa held up a yellow diamond ring encircled with tiny white diamonds.
Bess and Amelia were trying on their pearl necklaces while Charles’ wife admired an antique emerald and diamond necklace and matching ring that had supposedly belonged to Josephine Bonaparte.
In the corner I heard Franklin frantically opening his small box whispering, “God, oh God. Please let it be bling.” He ripped open the box and shouted, “Thank you, June!” Happily, he shoved on a gentleman’s diamond pinky ring and showed it to Matt.
June shook her head. “Maybe you should have him tested.”
I laughed.
The rest of the men cautiously opened theirs. Charles’ grandsons got checks for college. They must have been a large su
m, as they were grinning from ear to ear.
Matt got a gift card to spend on items needed for the coming baby.
Tony and his valet, Giles, also got gift cards. The valet mumbled thanks to June, while Tony just stuck the card in his coat pocket as an afterthought.
Charles strummed through an old leather bound book. “My goodness, what is this?”
“It is one of Henry Clay’s diaries in which he writes about your great, great grandmother suing him for her freedom. Here’s the provenance,” she pointed. June looked kindly at Charles and patted his arm. “I thought you might like to have this since it’s about your family before the Civil War.”
“Here, let me take it before you cry all over the leather,” said Charles’ wife as she carefully put the diary back in the box.
“I don’t know what to say,” gasped Charles.
“Does it make you happy, Charles?” asked June.
“It sure does. It’s a part of my family’s past. It’s part of me.”
“No more needs to be said.” June affectionately patted Charles’ hand.
Matt put a new log on the fire and offered to freshen everyone’s drinks.
“I can’t accept this,” said Boris to Asa, referring to his gift card.
“You will offend June if you don’t take it,” replied Asa, admiring her new diamond ring on her left hand. She raised her hand to show it to Boris.
Boris was standing in front of the glass double doors that lead out to the pool patio. Beyond the pool, one could see the roof of the Butterfly.
Asa saw something flicker behind him. Rushing to the glass doors, she screamed, “MOM! THE BUTTERFLY IS ON FIRE!”
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Asa hurriedly punched in the code to the front door. Hearing the click, I pushed opened the door only to have Baby rush me and the cats leap across the threshold to hurry toward the barn.
I checked Baby while Asa ran into the house. Holding Baby’s collar, I stepped inside the house and sniffed the air. No smoke.
Outside I could hear the men putting ladders on the roof and opening the hoses. In the distance I could hear the wail of a fire truck.
I flipped a light switch. The electricity was still on. I checked the land phone. It was still working.
Asa came back with her gun holster on. “All the doors are locked. The windows are closed. I checked every room. There’s no sign of fire.”
Sighing relief, I let go of Baby, which was a bad idea because he went directly outside and started harassing everyone who was trying to put the fire out on the roof.
Asa put him on a leash and tapped his nose with her index finger when he wouldn’t listen. He hated to be reprimanded and sat in sulky silence. He had been having a wonderful time.
Matt and Boris climbed down the ladders looking disheveled. Boris shook his head at Asa. Charles and his grandsons finished surveying the immediate grounds of the house as his daughters began raking up the debris that Matt had pulled off the roof.
As Matt and Boris came up to us, Franklin drove up from checking on Matt’s house. “All clear,” Franklin said, getting out of his Smart car. “House is perfect.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It looks like someone put debris on top of the roof and then set it on fire,” replied Matt, staring at the rooftop.
Charles and his grandsons hurried to our little group huddled in the driveway. “Look what we found,” announced Charles, showing us an empty gas can.
“Why would anyone do that? What’s the purpose?” I mulled.
Boris shrugged. “For a diversion?” he suggested.
Asa snapped her head up. “June and your wife, Charles. They’re alone in the Big House.”
“Tony and Giles are there with them,” responded one of the grandsons.
“And you trust those limeys with our women!” shouted Charles. “Get back in the cars. Something’s not right.”
I put Baby back in the house, locked the front doors and drove back to June’s with Franklin. We were the last to arrive.
Rushing into the Big House, I found everyone in the library with Asa and Boris pointing guns at Tony and his man, Giles aka Liam Doyle, as they reached for the sky.
June and Charles’ wife were sitting quite calmly in green leather chairs near the fire, sipping brandy. There was a derringer in June’s lap and a twinkle in her eyes.
The derringer would explain a teenage boy bleeding on her expensive oriental carpet and the twinkle would explain the thrill of shooting the teenager.
“That crazy old bitch shot me!” exclaimed the youth.
“Just be glad I shot you in the leg, young man,” said June.
“And that other bitch tried to cave my head in with a poker.”
June looked at Charles’ wife. “Mrs. DuPuy, being of a darker persuasion, (pronounced per-swaaay-shion) doesn’t like white males pointing guns at her.”
“I don’t like anyone pointing a gun at me. I don’t care what color,” scolded Mrs. DuPuy, pointing a finger at the boy. “It was very rude of you.” She looked up wide-eyed at us. “He tried to steal Josephine’s jewels. We just couldn’t allow that,” she stated matter of factly.
“So I shot him,” drawled June.
“That was after I tried to crack his head open with the poker,” concurred Mrs. Dupuy.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” claimed Boris, examining the bullet wound. “Put a band aid on it and he will be fine.”
“I’m in pain,” whined the boy.
“But why are Tony and Giles standing with their hands up in the air?” I asked.
“Because Mr. Tony tried to yank my necklace off after the boy was shot,” said Mrs. Dupuy.
“That makes us think that he might have had something to do with this,” claimed June.
“I was just trying to help,” spat Tony at Mrs. DuPuy.
She snorted in derision.
Boris kicked the boy’s bad leg. “Tell us what’s up or you’re going to prison for long time.”
“That man paid me one hundred dollars if I was to set fire to that weird house down yonder,” the boy said, pointing to Tony. “And I was to get five hundred more if I robbed this house. I was to steal a green and white necklace. The one that lady’s wearing,” he added.
“I’ve never seen this boy before in my life,” Tony scoffed, looking annoyed.
“Six hundred dollars to steal necklace worth millions?” uttered Boris.
“Boy, you’ve been had,” remarked Charles. He sat by his wife. “I hear the fire trucks.” Turning to his grandsons, he ordered, “One of you go down to the Butterfly and tell them to come up here,” he said to his grandsons. “Let them through the side property gate. We’ve got an injured boy.”
“I had nothing to do with this!” protested Giles. “I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Shut up!” demanded Tony.
“I’m not going to prison for you. I like it here. I like my room. I like the food. I like the bourbon.” Giles turned toward June. “Lady Elsmere, I’d nothing to do with this. I will do anything to stay. Help Charles around the house. I’ll even shovel shi… horse poop if you will let me stay. I’m begging you. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
“Tony, did Giles have any prior knowledge of your little faux pas?” asked Lady Elsmere. “Don’t bother to deny it. This has your fingerprints all over it. Think of the English gentleman’s code before you speak.”
Tony considered for a moment. “No.”
Giles looked relieved.
June picked the derringer off her lap and pointed it at Tony. “Everyone leave the room but Tony and this boy. Stall the firemen and the police. Now scoot.”
Before I left the room, I asked, “Where did you get the derringer?”
June grinned. “In my décolletage, where all ladies of quality keep their weapons.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
“Just when you think you know someone.” I left the room, shutting the door quietly
behind me. Of course, everyone was standing in the hallway straining to hear.
Franklin brought glasses so we could amplify our hearing with our ears pressed against the bottom of the glass that was pressed against the door.
Boris asked, “What’s she saying? I don’t understand her English.”
“Shush!” went everyone.
Charles put down his glass. “She’s going old school country girl on them. There’s no Lady Elsmere there. Just June Webster from Monkey’s Eyebrow.”
“Those words even make me blush. Salty isn’t the word,” stated Franklin.
Asa looked at me. “Mother, what’s a . . .?”
“Hush. I’ll tell you when we get home.”
Mrs. DuPuy could not longer hold off the firemen and the police.
The authorities tramped down the hallway, scattering our little party. They were in no mood for our silliness.
I didn’t blame them for being in a bad mood. We had gotten them out on Christmas Day.
Charles and his wife hurried to the kitchen to fix them something to eat. That would certainly take the edge off their foul humor.
After coming out of the library looking confused but elated at the promise of a large donation to their favorite charity by Lady Elsmere, the police waited until the boy was ensconced in an ambulance and then took off without taking our statements. The firemen, loaded with baskets of food and wine, happily returned to their fire station.
Matt gave Asa, Boris, Franklin and me a ride home. Matt and Franklin went back to Matt’s place with Franklin still showing his pinky ring to Matt every five seconds.
“Boris, can you stay tonight?” I asked. I knew if he didn’t stay, Asa would be up all night guarding. She needed to get some sleep.
“Yes. I’ve got my gear in the SUV.”
“I’m feel very blessed tonight,” I confessed to Asa.
“How can you say that, Mom?”
“No one got seriously hurt. The fire didn’t damage the house. You and I got some fabulous bling. And June got to shoot someone. I would say that is a good day.”
Asa shot a kiss at me. “Merry Christmas, Mother.”
“Merry Christmas, Daughter.”
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