Grace House: The Trial of Obscurity

by Rob Summers

Chapter 16 The Blizzard

  On Christmas Eve morning Dignity felt normal. After weeks of straining after publication; after squandering thousands of dollars on book copies that could not be given away; and after bending himself into the shape of a sycophantic publicity seeker; it had all come to nothing. No author’s cares would now be jangling his nerves, and he could look forward to a quiet holiday. At the breakfast table he had even exchanged a few civil words with Obscurity, for just as Reason had said, the security expert was not his enemy now.

  It was just two days after the debacle at WHIP, and he was already returning to the sort of concerns that had occupied him before authorship. He was heartened that the flu seemed to have run its course with some of the Orchard family. Humility and Faith had also made it to breakfast, and a few of the children were abroad.

  Dignity was glad now, honestly glad, that Reason and he had exhausted every means to sell The Pride Story and that, having failed, they had put it behind them. As he settled into his favorite chair in the library, a section of the newspaper on his lap and a cup of hot tea at his elbow, he reflected that simple pleasures and simple duties are the cream of life. Nothing could make him go through another season such as had just passed. From now on he would appreciate the treasures to be found in quiet anonymity.

  The phone rang and he answered it cheerfully.

  “Oh, Mr. Dignity,” said a female voice, “I hope I’m not intruding on Christmas Eve, but I did promise to get back to you about your book. You remember I took your phone number at the WHIP studio? Well, I’ve been talking with a good friend of mine who’s the acquisitions editor at Cross Eyes Publishing, and he’s quite interested. In fact he wrote down some questions about your manuscript, and he asked me to bring them by to you and get the details on it.”

  Dignity was sitting straight up, his pulse pounding. “How very good of you, Mrs. D’Ego, to do that for me. You think your friend is really interested?”

  “Oh yes, he really is. Isn’t it exciting? I remember how I felt about my own first book. Mr. Dignity, would three this afternoon be all right?”

  “You mean today?” Dignity said stupidly.

  “Not if it’s inconvenient.”

  “Oh no, it would be quite convenient! I have no plans, Mrs. D’Ego, no plans at all.”

  “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to disturb your holiday.”

  “No, I’m sure, and thank you very, very much.”

  “That’s 1422 Sandhill?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “I’ll see you this afternoon, then. Bye bye.”

  As Dignity hung up, he found himself perspiring and a wind seemed to be whistling in his ears. “Reason!” he shouted as he ran down the hallway to her room. “Reason, it’s not over! Put on a dress. It’s not over!”

  Old Ambassador Grace took a piece of Christmas candy from a bowl and slowly unwrapped it. He and Obscurity were settled in one of the house’s little sitting rooms, but Obscurity seemed tongue tied, so he sucked on the candy and waited.

  “You must have thought I was a little shrill on the phone,” she said presently.

  “You are never shrill,” he assured her, “always competent and professional. If you need advice or assistance, that’s what I’m here for. I’m aware already that Dignity and Reason are expecting a visit from Swella D’Ego this afternoon.”

  Obscurity took a deep breath. “They thought that one slipped by me. It looks to them like I’ve been caught off guard, just when I thought my job was finished here. But I knew it would come to this. D’Ego is coming over and in a friendly mood. She means business. She can do it. Of course, you know who she is?”

  He nodded. “Mr. Power’s sister-in-law, his wife’s sister.”

  “And the Powers control Cross Eyes publishing,” Obscurity said. “Swella can go over the heads of the regular editors if she wants. Ambassador, until now I’ve been up against some lightweight from their legal department, a woman named Pinch. But now I’m outgunned.”

  “And you’re tired, dear.”

  “No, I’ve been getting enough sleep.”

  “Emotionally tired then. In some ways this has been your toughest assignment. You haven’t complained, but I know.” He gestured encouragingly. “But what can I do for you? How can I get you through this?”

  She looked at him cautiously. “How much can I have? What’s my limit?”

  Grace pondered. “I think we’ll put no limits on the matter. Ask for anything. No, really, no need to look at me like that. I mean what I say.”

  She came and knelt by his chair arm. “Then I want a blizzard,” she said throatily. “No, make that the mother of all blizzards. And I need it right now.”

  Peace stole from her bed and put her robe on. Her fever was down, wasn’t it? So why should she be lying down when her brothers and sisters were running about the house, yelling about a white Christmas? Gentleness was not supposed to be up either, but she had seen him run by her open doorway.

  She went to the window and could barely see out. It was a blizzard such as she had never seen, the kind that stops everything, buries everything. Since this was the sort of thrill that needed to be shared, she went out into the hallway. Uncle Dignity and Aunt Reason were there, looking as somber and worried as grownups always do when something really good happens.

  “Have you seen it?” Peace said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “No,” said Dignity, “it’s like hell out there.”

  “We’re afraid of losing the electricity,” Reason said to her, “and we also expect an important visitor today.”

  “Should we call Swella?” Dignity said, speaking only to Reason. “I could go next door to Mrs. Gossip’s and use her phone. But I don’t want to seem too uncasual. Maybe I’ll just call and suggest another day.”

  “I think we should let her call us if she’s not coming,” Reason said. “Besides it’s only ten and she’s not due till three. Maybe it will slack off.”

  “Let’s go look,” said Dignity, and they trotted off to the nearest window.

  Peace wandered down to the ground floor and finally found someone she was sure would enjoy the storm with her. Aunt Obscurity was just coming in one of the great front doors. She was so covered with snow that it was hard to see the outlines of her hat and scarf. In one gloved hand she carried a small screw driver. While Peace helped to knock the snow off her, Obscurity said nothing about her being illegally out of bed. Obscurity was always sensible like that.

  The security woman sat down but did not take her coat off. “I’m going to have to go out again,” she said, almost gasping. “I have a little job to finish.” From a coat pocket she produced a small metal object. “But then again, better not,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll just hang on to this for now.”

  Peace took it from her hand. “A letter ‘O’,” the little girl said. “For Big ‘O’ Security Systems. Or for Obscurity? I wish I could go out. I think some of us kids are playing in back.”

  Reason and Dignity now came down the grand steps from the second floor, going slowly because of Reason’s pregnancy. Ignoring Obscurity and Peace, they went to a front window and stared out.

  “The Gossips won’t mind if I need to use their phone,” Dignity said. “I can tell them it’s an emergency.”

  “I don’t see any traffic down at the corner,” Reason said. “The streets are filling up fast.”

  “It’s terrible,” Dignity moaned.

  “No it isn’t!” said Peace, placing herself between them. “It’s beautiful, and you should thank Obscurity. She made it happen.”

  “I could almost believe that,” said Dignity with a curl of his lip. Obscurity had just removed her hat and scarf, revealing a reddened, glowing face. He turned to her. “Are you telling the kids that you can make blizzards?”

  “I ordered it, I didn’t make it.”

  “Of course!” Reason said sarcastically. “You ordere
d it to keep Mrs. D’Ego away.”

  “No, she’ll be along.” Obscurity bent to pull off a boot.

  “Everything always goes your way,” Dignity said to her. “Even the weather. I wouldn’t be surprised if old Grace did do this for you. You and he were thick as thieves this morning. Is this what you met about?”

  “Don’t talk that way about Grace,” Obscurity said. She stood up. “If you need me, I’ll be out back. I have to get the fog machine out of the shed.”

  “Oh, that makes sense!” Reason said, her dark little eyes flashing. “I’m sorry, Obscurity, but sometimes I think Dignity is right about you, that you aren’t completely stable.”

  Obscurity showed a row of perfect teeth. “Well, I have only one answer to that.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Nyahh, nyah-nyahh!” Snatching up her boots, she went running out of the room with Peace close behind her.

  While Reason and Dignity were looking at each other in surprise, a phone rang in the little room off the entrance hall. Dignity answered it.

  “Grace House.”

  “Mr. Dignity! This is Swella D’Ego. Have you seen the storm? I’m just not sure I’ll be able to make it today. I’m already somewhat stranded at my brother-in-law’s office. My sister and I are going to try to make it home, and we might just manage to stop by. I thought I’d let you know.”

  As a polite and sensitive person, Dignity felt the need to tell her by no means to make such an effort in a blizzard. Instead, he swallowed and said, “OK.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dignity.”

  When he put down the phone and explained to Reason, she became hot with him concerning his manners.

  “But this is Cross Eyes Publishing she’s talking about,” Dignity pleaded, looking down at her. “They’re the leader in the Christian market. They already turned us down, of course, but now we’re making a connection. This could be it.”

  “I know all that, but you’re not going to score points with them by encouraging Mrs. D’Ego to get lost in a blizzard. Does she have the address?”

  “Uh—yes, yes she does.”

  “You don’t sound sure. Well, we can’t call back without bothering some neighbor, so it’s a moot point.” She walked to a window. “It’s coming down as heavy as ever. You know what really bothers me? It’s that I’m getting all anxious and snappy again, just when I was starting to calm down.” She whirled around. “We better get ready for the power to fail. I think we’re low on candles.”

  “I’ll go next door and get some from Wag. He’s always prepared.”

  “No use, he’s gone to visit his daughter for the holiday. Check the pantry, and ask Humility about oil lamps. And then, and then there’s—” The little woman halted in mid-step, grunted, and quickly settled in a chair. Her face was white.

  “What is it?” Dignity said.

  “Might be baby time,” she said thickly. “I think it’s coming early.”

  Dignity stepped back open-mouthed. “And we don’t have a phone, and the blizzard and all!”

  “No, it’s OK,” she said. “We already have a plan, remember? Go next door. No, the other direction, not Wag’s.” She made a weaving gesture while leaning back. “Mrs. Gossip is supposed to call the hospital for me.”

  Dignity started moving, but his one thought was that no ambulance would be coming through such weather. Just before his hand touched the front door knob, the lights went out.

  Mr. Power was on the phone in his huge, gleaming office, seated behind his ocean liner-sized desk. The burly, middle-aged man was, as usual, disappointed with the person on the other end. As usual, he was angry.

  “That’s right, Hypocrisy, I haven’t answered your calls. Get used to it. And if Pride or whatever he’s calling himself now—Dignity—if he ruined your little show, then that’s your affair.” He listened for a moment. “He took Swella’s place as a guest? Or she gave it to him? You’ve talked to her then? Well, what do you want me to do about it? You were supposed to get Dignity back in our column last year. You even told me you had it all taken care of, everything under control. Then the little lollipop sucker barged into your office while I was there and told us both off! I turned it over to legal affairs. They’re supposed to be on it. I told them a long time ago to put a wrap on this, get it finished. What? I don’t know, I think it was Pitfall. Now, don’t call him. I tell you, leave it to him. All right then. Have a merry, and be careful driving home.”

  Power hung up and thumbed his intercom. “Abject!”

  “Yes, Mr. Power?” answered his secretary.

  “Get Pitfall.”

  He drummed his fingertips impatiently for the half minute it took the lawyer to answer. “Pitfall? I’ve got a damn blizzard to deal with, so this is going to have to be quick. Why aren’t we getting any progress on Grace House? Dignity is still not in our column, the place belongs to the Heavenites, and Hypocrisy tells me he’s got Dignity and Honesty worming their way onto his television show. Who is on this?” Power listened. “Good lord, get her back in the office and off her duff. When did she wreck? She was on her way home after work? Good, no liability for us then. A back brace?” He sighed with disgust. “All right, never mind. Just tell me about his book.” He listened for a few moments. “Can we use it to make him sit up and beg? He’s got the publication fever? OK, I’ll talk to Swella.”

  Power hung up and went into the spacious suite next to his office where the sisters were watching the weather channel. He paused with a pained expression. He did not see much of his wife and never thought about her unless he had to. No picture of her was on his desk, and they took separate vacations. They slept not only in separate bedrooms but in separate wings of their house, and they took their few at-home meals apart. Now, standing in front of two similar looking middle-aged ladies, he labored to remember which one was Swella and which Mrs. Power. He decided to split the difference and simply talk to both of them. He picked up a remote and turned down the television.

  “A boy named Dignity was on Reverend Hypocrisy’s show on Tuesday,” he said. “You know anything about that?”

  “I certainly do! I was supposed to visit him this afternoon,” said someone, presumably Swella. “I’m recommending his new book to Mr. Blindazabat at Cross Eyes.” She turned to Mrs. Power. “Mr. Dignity is very pleasant.”

  “I know of him,” said Mrs. Power. “He’s not pleasant at all. Don’t you remember how he assaulted Fame Vainglory last year?”

  Mr. Power recognized his wife now and wondered how he could have forgotten her. She was much thinner and primmer than Swella and had narrower lips. Her sunken eyes were heavily made up, reminding Power of an attempt to beautify a skull.

  “Hello, dear,” he said penitently. “Now listen, Swella, my people in legal affairs have been trying to leverage the Grace Place, Dignity’s house, for months, so I can settle an old score with Grace. They haven’t gotten anywhere. Pitfall can’t finish even a little job like that. So help me out, Swella. Go over to Grace House and take along a contract that my secretary will provide you with. I’ll have Blindazabat fax it over.”

  “But Swella has already decided she can’t go, dear,” said Mrs. Power. “The blizzard is too bad.”

  “I’ll send her over in a snowplow,” he said. “There’s one clearing the lot right now. I’ll just call the driver, and Abject will get the address.”

  “1422 Sandhill,” said Swella brightly.

  “I’ll have her check it,” he insisted. “And when you finish there, the driver will take you to our place. Now, I want you to get signatures on that contract no matter what. We’ll give them a fat advance—I’ll clear it with Mammonette—so it shouldn’t take any coaxing. Besides, Pitfall says Dignity and his cousin are drooling over getting published.”

  “Dear,” said Mrs. Power in a thin, school marm-ish voice, “has anyone read this book?”

  Power grun
ted. “Pitfall’s seen the query. Not exactly a best seller candidate. It’s an exposé of the City administration, plus a lot of Heavenite propaganda.”

  “I don’t think one of our publishing houses should print it.”

  “You don’t think so?” Power said sneeringly. “You just don’t get it. All we need is a signature and Dignity and Reason are in our pay. It’s like a ring through the nose.” He demonstrated by putting his fist to his nose and turning his head this way and that. “Grace was their boss; now I’m their boss. As for the book—” he laughed “—by the time our editors and lawyers get finished gutting it, The Pride Story will have all the punch of your crippled granny.”

  He left them abruptly, returning to his office where he issued the necessary orders to Miss Abject. He added, “And Abject, I want a picture of—” he tried to remember his wife’s first name “—of Mrs. Power put on my desk. Make that a signed picture.”