Most of her time and attention was given to Lawrence to make sure his deductive functions were working. If it is hot, it burns. If it doesn’t work, try something else. A gifted botanist herself, Beatrice passed her love of horticulture on to her son. With plants, he could focus on one thing and see the end results of his efforts. If she were to die, she would not have to worry about him so much. He was a good man. She made sure that twice a month he made it to his life management classes to see his girlfriend Katie, a pretty young black girl with a high functioning form of autism. She spoke slowly, often having to break down multi-syllable words and she loved Lawrence. Katie showered her son with attention and was openly affectionate with him. She looked at Lawrence when he spoke like he was standing on the Mount delivering a life-changing sermon. Beatrice made certain that Lawrence never missed classes.
The one time she was sick, Thurston the III took Lawrence to class and discovered that Lawrence was sexually active. She had no say in her husband giving their son a vasectomy. He also paid for Katie’s family to give her a tubal ligation. Her husband was like that...controlling everything and everyone. This is why she liked her son Thurston’s wife so much. TataLavisha was a woman that no man would ever control. Beatrice dressed for the evening with more enthusiasm than she should have shown. It was going to be a very interesting dinner.
She knew her husband planned to attack Tae-Tay with some information that he planned to use against her. However, from what she had seen of her daughter in law, it was not going to happen. Her husband was going to try to be a big shot and TataLavisha was going to shoot him down. A twinge of guilt went through her as she found herself almost giddy in anticipation for Tae-Tay being able to do something she hadn’t been able to do in nearly 40 years. Tae-Tay was going to give her husband a taste of his own medicine.
At five minutes of six, the family lined up at the door, Beatrice at the top of line, followed by Lawrence, then Veronica, Thomas, Thurston, Tae-Tay, and the grandkids from oldest to youngest. Even the three-year-old had learned to stand in her place at the end of the row until her grandfather made it down to the line. Rodgers met the patriarch at the door to take his briefcase.
The burly sack of hot air walked down the line and shook everyone’s hand, stopping at Tae-Tay to give her a good looking over. She’d gone shopping the Thursday before and wore a simple black dress, which was tapered at the waist, and she wore modest jewelry pieces, including simple studded earrings. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. The shoes she chose were a mid-level heel with peep toes that showed off her pink toenail polish.
“I look forward to that conversation over a glass of wine tonight, TataLavisha,” he told her. His eyes were hard, his stare cold, but something behind the eyes softened when she smiled at him.
“As do I, sir,” she said as she dropped her eyes.
He continued down the line, shaking each grandchild’s hand. He stopped in front of Douglas and kneeled, “Son, sliding down the banister is unacceptable. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” Douglas said, holding his head low. She knew Thurston the III said it to discourage any of the other grandkids from trying it, but the tone in which he said it crushed Douglas.
Somewhere in the background, the dinner bell chimed, and Tae-Tay watched the mouths begin to water as if they were Pavlov’s dog who had been trained to respond to the sound. “Dinner is served,” Rodgers said aloud.
Douglas hung back and waited for his mother.
“What’s wrong, Sweetie?”
“I don’t like it here. When can we go home?” He wanted to know.
“We leave tomorrow, but tonight, I need you on your best behavior. We want Thurston’s dad to like us,” she told him.
“I don’t care if he likes me. Daddy likes me. Lawrence likes me and you like me,” Douglas said. It was enough to give her the courage to tackle what was coming her way not only at dinner, but in the next couple of days.
As expected, Mr. Cromwell wasted no time zoning in on Tae-Tay. Several times Thomas attempted to intervene with news on the brownstone project. Thurston was about to come to her defense but she gently laid her hand upon his thigh.
“Thurston, I am certain that your father has sent his best investigators to dig through everything in my past. He probably knows more about me than you do,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “He is simply asking the questions to see if he can catch me in a lie.”
Mr. Cromwell sputtered his wine. Beatrice said nothing as she watched her daughter-in-law remain still like a cat watching a bird. The ball was in play and she was waiting for the birdy to make a move so she could pounce and eat it.
“I am not trying to catch you in a lie, TataLavisha, I was only wondering why you had not mentioned your father...uhmm...and his current situation,” Mr. Cromwell said.
“Because there is nothing to mention, sir. He took up residence in Lancaster when I was 14 years old. He has been working there for the state since then and I have not seen him,” she said as she sipped her wine. “My mother has informed me that he will be retiring soon and looking to move back to Los Angeles or either Compton.”
The smile on Thurston’s face was bright. The look on his father’s was not.
“Fair enough, young lady. Was it your idea that Thurston not run for the congressional seat?” Mr. Cromwell asked.
All eyes were on her and she placed her silverware across her plate, letting Rodgers know that she was finished with the flat, unimaginative meal. “Quite the opposite, sir. His decision was his own and I support his choices,” she said waiting for the rest of the old man’s goading.
“So you think it was a good idea?” Veronica asked.
“Actually, I do not. It is my assertion...” she looked at her husband and swallowed hard. “...that with the stepping down of the Speaker of the House, so many candidates in the field for president and the party being basically lead by a buffoon, a calmer head is needed. I think Thurston would make a great Junior Congressman, but the costs are high.”
Mr. Cromwell cleared his throat, “Yes, but the party and campaign contributions will foot the majority of the bill.”
Tae-Tay lowered her eyes and concentrated on her hands. She was wringing her fingers through each other repetitively until Thurston placed his hand upon hers.
“Sir, not all costs are financial,” she said as she looked at Douglas, who gave her a big grin with a spinach-covered smile.
“I’m not following you,” he said.
She inhaled, “My sister was very committed to her job and upholding the family name, but she was not made of what our father was made of. She wasn’t even as strong as our mother, but she had most of her traits. One bad call after another and it costs her everything.”
“Are you saying you are resentful that she is free and you are left with two legacies you don’t want?” Mr. Cromwell asked.
“No, Sir, there is only one legacy I have no interest in. The other is a gift that I have every intention of raising the right way so that life will not be known to him,” she told him, looking the man squarely in the eyes.
Douglas leaned over and tapped Thurston on the arm, “Daddy, is she talking about me?”
He patted his son on his little thigh. “Yes, she is.”
He nodded his little head still not clear on what the subject was, but there was cake and he really liked cake. He was waiting for the tall guy to bring him a slice.
“And if Thurston decides he wants to run for office?” Beatrice asked.
“Again, whether he is Alderman, Postman, or Congressman, I am going to stand behind him, beside him, and give him my unwavering support,” she said.
Beatrice found her enthusiasm to be uplifting, “...and if he is on the road for 300 days out of the year?”
Tae-Tay grinned at her, “Then I will have to homeschool Douglas and learn to live life out of a Winnebago because when my husband lays his head down at night, the pillow next to his will be mine.
He will not go to bed without kissing me goodnight or hugging his son.”
CHAPTER Seven
Negotiating a New Deal
After dinner, Tae-Tay assisted Douglas up the stairs for a bath to help her son get settled into bed. This of course opened the door for Thurston the III to request a one-on-one chat with his son.
In his father’s study.
A room where power deals had been made for nearly three centuries.
It was the one room in the entire house that Thurston truly despised.
He hated everything about the pretentious space, from the mahogany wainscoting to the antique humidor which housed Cohiba cigars. The law library was housed in this room, along with nearly a thousand other books his father never read. The Art of War was perched precariously on the corner of the oversized desk. That book had been sitting at that same angle on the desk since he was 12. He hid out once to watch Rodgers dust it and put back with a measuring tape to ensure the book was perched at that exact degree with one page turned each week. This room was meant to intimidate people as his father made his negotiations. Tonight Thurston was over it and more than ready to make his own deals. Deals his father would either have to make happen or lose his hold on Thurston.
“Son,” Mr. Cromwell told Thurston as he reached for a glass. Next, he would pour himself a finger or two of something very old, very expensive, and very rare. He offered a drink to Thurston before perching his right butt cheek on the corner of the desk. “Am I to understand that your wife is willing to support your bid for Congress...all she needs is a Winnebago to follow you around the great state of New York?”
Thurston took a seat in the same chair he sat in when his father commanded him to attend law school. That was ten years ago when he was uncertain of himself and which direction he would take with his life. The days of being shepherded and told what to do were over. Tonight, he was shifting the power.
“Yes, Father, you heard her correctly,” he responded.
“Good. Good. Good. I think we are in a position, like she said to make some real changes,” his father said as he took a sip of the bitter brown liquid.
This conversation was not going to unfold as his father had planned. Thurston crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. He spoke in a low, non-challenging tone to his father. “I think in order to invoke real change, we have to start at home.”
The glass was suspended in midair between his father’s lips and the silver buttons in the middle of the waistcoat of his custom made suit. “What is it you want, Thurston?”
Thurston inhaled, yawned a bit from the heavy dinner, and titled his head. “It’s not what I want, but what Lawrence wants. He wants a wife and a life.”
His father rose, went to sit behind the desk, and told Thurston “What you are proposing, is not going to happen.”
“Why not? You already had him and Katie sterilized! Why can’t they be together?” Thurston wanted to know.
A raised eyebrow was all he received. “And who is going to care for them, your mother?”
“No. The carriage house has four bedrooms. Convert it so that he and Katie can live there with a live in caregiver. He still will have access to his gardens and the atrium and he can spend his nights with the woman he loves,” Thurston told him.
“What does he know about love? He is mentally challenged!”
“He knows enough about it to understand that you don’t love him,” Thurston said.
His father lowered his head, “Of course I love him. He is my son, but he has the mind of a child!”
Thurston stood. “He made it perfectly clear to me that he was a man and that his mind worked slow, but it worked. When was the last time you actually had a real conversation with him?”
A loud huff could be heard as Thurston the III exhaled a loud gust of air. “A conversation about what – those damned plants?”
“I don’t know Dad - he loves traveling, art, museums. He loves theme parks...” Thurston said as a brilliant idea hit him. “Why not give him and Katie a trip to Disneyworld as a honeymoon gift?”
“You seriously want me to allow them to marry?” his father said in disbelief.
“Yes, and give him a set of keys to his house, so he can go home at night to his wife after he piddles all day in his garden or when they return home after a trip to the city to the museum or theater,” Thurston said much louder than he intended. “What I am trying to say is, with a live in caregiver, he can get out a lot more than Mother is able to do with him. Weekly trips for him and Katie would show him how much you love him as a son.”
The crystal glass he held in his hand was four times older than Thurston. The liquid inside the glass was as well. “How did you know I had Lawrence sterilized?”
“He told me so. He also informed me you had the same thing done to Katie,” he said.
He was shaking his head. “I couldn’t allow them to reproduce, Thurston. You must understand...”
“I do understand, Dad, but he wanted to be a father.”
“And I wanted to be a trapeze artist, and look at me. Life isn’t about getting everything you want,” he said with disgust in his voice.
“When you are a Cromwell, yes hell it is, Dad,” he said flatly. “You brought me in here to negotiate. I opened the discussion. Give him everything I have asked for, and Monday morning I throw my hat in the ring.”
His father gulped down the remaining contents. “And how do you know I won’t go back on my word?”
“Because that is not who you are,” he said. “Besides, you will make the call tonight and get Katie here in the morning after breakfast.” He tilted his head to the patriarch, “Goodnight, Dad. My wife is upstairs waiting for my head to rest on that pillow besides hers. I don’t want to keep the lady up too long.”
Nothing else was said as he heard the sound of the keypad on his father’s phone. “Yes, this is Thurston Cromwell,” he said into the line.
Thurston was bone tired. He peeked in on Douglas to make sure he was settled and sleeping okay. Tae-Tay had slipped back down to the kitchen to grab an apple and some cheese to nosh on since she hadn’t eaten much at supper. Dinner had not been to her liking and the food was entirely too heavy. Compton or not, she was totally a California girl, healthy eating above all else.
He rested his head on a pillow against the heavy wooden headboard. He watched her with interest as she checked under the bed on both sides, before going in to check the closet. Only when she was satisfied did she remove her clothing to undress. He noticed she had checked under the beds at the brownstone as well. She did this each night before going to bed. It was only in the last week that she had stopped performing the ritual.
“Thurston, did you notice that the closet is full of men’s clothing?” she asked. “I wonder whose clothes they are...or is it like a lending closet for when the men come over improperly dressed?”
She plopped down on the bed, rolling to her side with an apple wedge in her hand. She fed a piece of the apple to him.
“They are my clothes Tae...” he smiled at her.
Tae-Tay grinned back at him. “Doh! So this is your room?”
“Yes, this has been my room since I moved out of the nursery,” he said, still grinning at her.
She started to smile as well, which made him roll to his back and laugh. Tae-Tay smiles a lot ...you must be good at the sex, too.
“What’s so funny?”
“Something Lawrence said,” he told her as he leaned onto his side, touching the base of her chemise. Slowly, his hand pushed the fabric up over her hip, past her waist and the lacy underwear until he could see the patch on her abdomen. His index finger trailed over the bandage which regulated her hormones.
“How long do you plan to wear this, Tae?”
“Until you are sworn in as Congressman.”
He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, “So once I am elected, the patch comes off and we begin working on a brother or sister for Douglas?”
“Yes, but we can practice as much as you like in the interim,” her toes grazed his shin as she spoke.
“Tonight the only thing I want to practice is seeing the backs of my eyelids,” he told her as he slid her nightgown back over her hips.
“You don’t have a very big appetite, Mr. Cromwell,” she told him.
“Oh, I do. I love putting a smile on your face, but I don’t want to be greedy,” he said to her while settling his head back on the pillow. “We can be intimate without going at it like rabbits.”
“I’m very fond of rabbits,” she told him.
“I am, too, in a hearty stew,” he chuckled. “Let’s get some sleep, tomorrow is going to be a full day.”
“Good night, Thurston,” she whispered in the darkened room after he turned off the lights. She couldn’t sleep. She had a lot on her mind.
He mumbled into the pillow, “A Winnebago...”
“Yeah, so I can make sure you have a balanced meal each night,” she told him.
“That’s love. Thank you Tae...goodnight,” he said as he kissed her again before giving in to the mental fatigue of the day. It had been a visual battle in his brain with Douglas coming down that banister and Lawrence catching him. Not to mention the mind-blowing conversation with his brother. The hardest part was the mental battle with his father.
Tae-Tay knew her battles were about to begin as she tried to mentally shore herself up for a life she wasn’t prepared to handle, but first she had to close out an old life that she was barely able to grip as well.
CHAPTER Eight
Bacon, Eggs and...wait, is that Katie?
It was a quiet Sunday morning as Tae-Tay woke, reaching across the bed to feel the strength of her husband, but Thurston wasn’t there. In her favorite ratty robe, although uncertain why she packed it, she made her way down the hall to the nursery to check on Douglas. He wasn’t in his bed either. Maybe they were having breakfast. Quickly, she hurried back the bedroom, donned some clothes, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and bounded the stairs by twos. Voices could be heard in the dining room since the Cromwell men were all gathered for an early morning chat. Lawrence, Thurston, Johnathan, Harris, and Douglas were all seated around the large table. Tae-Tay immediately notices that Thomas was not present.
A Weekend with the Cromwells Page 4