“Most stay clean-shaven, like me. Otherwise it’s a full, smartly trimmed beard, or goatees are still a bit popular, but waning.”
“Yes, well, I see,” Jarvis said, flustering and stepping back. “I should send that post.” He turned and left Kody behind in the bedroom.
Kody slowly made his way back down the hall and the stairs, marveling at how modern the house felt. Only the absence of tiny details marked it as pre-modern, like the lack of electrical outlets along the walls. He found Jarvis in the living room area, scribbling away at a studio-type desk.
Kody looked around the room as Jarvis sealed up the envelope and went to the front door. Jarvis poked his head out and glanced around a moment before yelling out, “Boy! You, boy!” He held up the envelope and a silver coin for someone on the street to see.
A plainly dressed youngster of maybe eight or nine ran up the stoop. “Deliver this, just around the corner,” Jarvis said as he handed the envelope and silver coin to the boy. Jarvis opened his other palm to reveal a smaller gold coin. “If you wait and return right away with the other package, this will be your tip.”
“Yes, sir, right away!” The boy gleamed as he ran off down the street with the letter.
Jarvis closed the door. “It shouldn’t take long. We can wait here in the parlor.”
Kody couldn’t help but notice how nothing in this nicely decorated room seemed at all personal. He didn’t find any portraits or mementos that spoke of Jarvis himself.
Jarvis sat on the settee and Kody drifted over to sit on the other side. Kody glanced over and said, “I really do appreciate all this effort. Thank you.”
“What else is one to do with someone who falls from the sky?” he joked. Jarvis’s gaze nonchalantly admired the build of Kody’s bare legs and scanned down to his dirty bare feet. “Gads! I forgot your filthy feet,” he exclaimed as he jumped up, returning from the kitchen a moment later with the basin of water and cotton towels. Kneeling down, he wet one of the towels and wrung it out. He hesitantly placed one hand around Kody’s left calf before lightly cleaning his toes and insoles with the other hand.
Kody shivered slightly from the touch of the wet cloth. “That water’s cold,” he said as he lay back and enjoyed the gentle massaging.
“Too much so?” Jarvis asked, admiring the cleaned foot. “I can warm some water on the stove,” he offered while moving his attention to the other foot.
“Nah, not worth the trouble, since you’re almost done.” Kody looked down and watched as Jarvis obviously enjoyed himself. “I could have done that myself, you know.”
“I know.” Jarvis picked up the other towel and slowly patted each foot dry “Your feet are so soft and callous-free. Do you walk on clouds in the future?”
Kody chuckled. “I’m not an angel. More like a devil, maybe.”
“That, I can believe,” Jarvis admitted in nearly a whisper while looking at the muscular calf he still held in his hand. “And that may be what I fear most.”
Kody leaned forward, getting closer to Jarvis. “You’re afraid of me? Why?”
Jarvis suddenly released the calf as though it had turned into a live snake in his hand. “Because….” He grabbed the bowl and towels and hurried through the house without saying more.
Kody followed him into the kitchen and watched as Jarvis dumped the basin into the sink, then wrung out the towels and hung them on the small towel rod mounted by the window. “Why are you afraid of me?”
Jarvis turned, but busied himself preening his clothes and wouldn’t meet Kody’s gaze. “Because, as I have explained, you offer what cannot be had.”
Kody shook his head. “Because I’m not some nameless dude you grabbed off the street?”
“I would never,” Jarvis said, bristling. “Never bring… one of those into my home.”
“One of those what? One of those fags? Those pansies? Whatever the hell name you guys use right now?”
Jarvis glared at Kody stiffly.
Kody crossed his arms over his chest. “You do know how hypocritical—”
Quiet knocks on the front door interrupted his next verbal jab.
Jarvis carefully stepped around Kody and answered the door. A moment later he returned to the kitchen and thrust a dark-brown suit, still on hangers at Kody. “You may change in the powder room.”
Kody took the suit. As Jarvis left the kitchen, Kody glanced over and saw his stuff still lying on the table. He snatched up the items and hid them in the pockets of his cargo shorts before following Jarvis into the parlor. Jarvis stood at the little desk, seemingly in a quandary over something. He kept his back turned to Kody.
“And where’s the powder room?”
“Down the hall past the stairs,” Jarvis advised briskly without turning around.
Kody found the powder room and closed the door. As he looked around the small space, illuminated only by the small slit of a window near the ceiling, Kody was surprised not to find a sink or a toilet. The only furniture he saw was a vanity-style table and its two stools. The counter and one wall shelf held hair products and other makeup items.
After Kody put on the three-piece suit, he checked himself in the small mirror mounted on the wall. The dark-brown coat was nearly the same color as his wavy hair, so that worked. Kody wasn’t sure about the frilly cream-colored ascot, but he put it on anyway. The coat fit okay in the shoulders and chest, but ballooned out around the stomach area a bit. Jarvis’s brother-in-law must have an ample gut. He had to cinch the belt up tightly to fit the baggy pants to his waist.
Kody smiled at the mirror and gave himself a thumbs-up for the cool retro look. Now all he needed was some shoes and a hat. He walked back out into the main hall.
From the parlor doorway, Jarvis glanced over Kody and frowned. “Shoes,” he scolded himself. “How thoughtless of me. Come back upstairs.”
AFTER donning spider-web-thin dress socks and squeezing his feet into a pair of Jarvis’s shoes, Jarvis placed one of the round bowler hats onto Kody’s head and took him back out to the street. They turned left toward the main road that Kody knew as Kennedy Avenue, which undoubtedly hadn’t earned that name yet. Secretary of State Joe Patrick Kennedy wouldn’t be killed for decades. He noticed the sign said “Olympia Street” as they headed to the shopping zone.
Not wanting to give up on their previous conversation, Kody decided to try another angle as they walked around the corner. “You know, down in the South, slavery is over, at least on paper. But most of that society still view Blacks as second-class citizens. Few Blacks will vote, or own property, or have any kind of education. Yet the Blacks that don’t listen to that society, and know in their hearts that they aren’t second-class, that they are worthy, will pass on that pride to their children, who will be the ones with education. Then they pass that pride along and their children will be the ones voting and owning property.” Kody felt hopeful when he glanced up and saw the bemused expression on Jarvis’s face.
Jarvis nodded. “I see, Mr. Higgins. I give you marks for that veiled method of continuing the conversation.” He motioned, indicating they should cross the street at the corner.
“And I thought we agreed on the mister stuff.”
Jarvis threw him a glare as they crossed the road. “We must maintain public decorum. I won’t argue on that point.”
“Fine. Then I hope you understand what I’m saying, Mr. Banks. A society cannot create second-class citizens unless those citizens give them that power and believe their propaganda.”
Jarvis stopped in front of a clothing shop and opened the door. “Maybe you have a point, but let’s tend to your needs first,” he said while holding the door open for Kody.
Glancing around, Kody shouldn’t have been surprised to notice that just like a modern clothing store, at least 80 percent of the floor space seemed dedicated to women’s fashion, and only a smaller portion in the back corner catered to men’s needs.
A perky, skinny lad appeared out of nowhere. “Good afternoon, Mr. Banks!
” he gleefully exclaimed. “A pleasure to see you today.”
“Thank you, Martin,” Jarvis said as they walked toward the back. “This is Mr. Higgins, my friend. Due to an unfortunate incident, he is in need of a new suit.”
Martin tsked as he gazed up and down at Kody in the ill-fitting suit. “Yes, that just won’t do at all now. Such a terrible fit.” He pointed Kody toward a counter and a coat rack. “Remove the jacket, please. Let’s get some measurements and find something more… appropriate.” Martin’s eyes seemed to land on Kody’s butt toward the end of his sentence.
Jarvis cleared his throat. “Is Mrs. Reynolds here?”
Martin shook his head. “You know that sister of yours. She’s off at some tea committee with one of her causes. Horse turds on the sidewalk, I think, is the latest calamity,” Martin explained as he used the measuring tape to examine every available inch of Kody’s body.
Jarvis chuckled.
Kody’s chest must have been stubborn, for Martin had to measure it twice, running his finger along the edge of the tape the second time. “Such a… manly chest, this will have to be smartly tailored to get any kind of decent fit.”
Jarvis nodded. “I trust you can work your usual magic.”
“Will try my best.” Martin grabbed Kody by the shirt sleeve and led him to one of the racks. After sifting through the coats, he yanked out one. “Try this one, it should fit at the top.”
Kody winced at the dark-olive color. “No, this color is too autumn for me. Maybe the charcoal?”
Martin scowled. “Just try it on for the fit.”
Kody complied, and the coat did fit nicely along the shoulders and chest.
“What do you mean by ‘too autumn’?” Martin asked as he fastened the buttons and made a gathering with his hand in the fabric at Kody’s lower back while looking at the fit in front.
“The four-season palette? I do best with the summer colors.”
Martin released the fabric and his hand dropped down, brushing briefly along Kody’s butt. “Explain this to me, please?”
Kody realized he must have made a huge error. If this clothier had never heard of the four-season palette, the idea must be much more modern than he had thought. Should he try to backpedal out of this? He looked over at Martin’s expectant face and decided it was probably a trivial point. “It’s the idea that people fall into four basic tone values, and once you know a person’s tone, you just pick colors from the particular tone palette that corresponds.”
Martin’s eyes sparkled. “I see. And you say you’re a summer?” He motioned to the rack. “Pick out the colors from this summer palette.”
“Okay,” Kody answered, pulling out the charcoal, a navy, a burgundy, and a mint-green color.
Martin glanced back and forth between the coats and Kody, as though mentally comparing them. He then looked over at Jarvis. “And Jarvis is not a summer?”
Kody smiled. Martin seemed to have a sharp eye and was picking this up quickly. “No, he’s not. He is a spring.”
“I see.” Martin pointed to the rack again. “Show me the spring.”
Kody pulled out the honey, lilac, camel, and turquoise-colored coats. “Springs are the true pastels.”
Martin grabbed the turquoise coat and held it in from of Jarvis. “I do see. What a remarkable difference, how it brings him to life and makes his eyes glow.” He turned back to Kody and flourished over himself and his Italian-looking black hair and dark brown eyes. “And I am another season?”
“Winter,” Kody advised. “You would look best in the more icy colors.” Kody looked back over at Jarvis. “While we’re here, do you think we could get Jarvis—Mr. Banks out of that horrid forest green?”
Martin’s eyes glanced up at Kody’s casual use of Jarvis’s name. “I see.” Martin scanned over the rack. “Maybe….” And he pulled out a salmon-colored coat from another rack. “Pastel, correct? This should be his fit.”
Kody nodded at the good choice, and Martin handed the coat to Jarvis.
Jarvis stepped back from it. “We are not here for me. Please attend to Mr. Higgins.”
“Dear Mr. Banks, you are always so stubborn,” Martin accused, handing the coat to Jarvis anyway.
Martin turned back to Kody and glanced down at his butt again. “Now, then, let’s get you out of those pants… and into a better fit.”
DISPLAYING a great talent for speed sewing, by hand, no less, Martin had both men dressed in new suits of perfect fit in less than an hour.
Kody grinned as he admired himself wearing the tailored cocoa jacket with charcoal slacks in the full-length mirror. The burgundy bow tie really made it all “pop.” “This is fantastic work, Martin, thank you.”
Martin smiled slightly, but seemed to be holding something back. He kept glancing at Jarvis, like he feared breaking some decorum.
Before Kody could press him into spilling, the jangle of the bell over the door grabbed his attention. He looked over to see a thin woman in a floor-length, vibrant yellow spring dress sashay into the shop. She smiled when she saw Jarvis. “My dear, I thought you were attending to other business today.”
Martin darted behind the counter and busied himself with putting away the sewing notions and threads.
“I am.” He pointed over toward Kody. “This is my traveling friend, Mr. Kody Higgins.” He turned to Kody. “And this is my sister, Mrs. Susan Reynolds.”
Susan crinkled her nose. “Kody? And what might that be a nickname for?” she asked as she appraised him thoroughly.
“Um, Koderick?” he said, trying to make up something on the spot.
“My,” she said. “It sounds rather… Welsh?”
“Yes,” Jarvis jumped in, nodding his head strongly. “Welsh it is.”
“I see. And this is the man that had need of my husband’s suit this morning?”
“The very one. His clothes were in rather a state when he arrived. We were just seeing to getting him tailored.”
Susan looked rather doubtful of the explanation but seemed to decide against arguing, for now. “Well, then, I should attend to some details in the office. Martin seems to have things in hand,” she said dismissively as she stepped behind a curtained doorway and disappeared.
Kody looked back over at Martin, curious about what he might have to say, but saw the man was fussing over something and trying to look invisible.
Jarvis stepped up to the counter. “Many thanks for your work, impeccable as always.”
Martin just nodded. “I’ll total the work on a tab and leave it on your desk, Mr. Banks.”
Jarvis turned to Kody. “Perhaps we should dine before heading back to the house.”
“I could go for some food,” Kody agreed.
Jarvis chuckled. “Fine, we shall ‘go for some food’, then,” he said while picking up their bags and walking to the door.
THEY ate in what looked to Kody like a very elegant restaurant, complete with real tablecloths and many flickering candles, but Jarvis assured him it was just barely a middle-class establishment.
Kody allowed Jarvis to order for them the stuffed-pie something-or-other plates, not sure what to expect. He was quite pleased when the server brought out a pair of meatball hot pockets and a side of steamed carrots and roasted potatoes.
After the great meal, they stopped at a cobbler shop and Kody got a pair of glossy black shoes that fit much better.
Following the short walk back to the brownstone, Kody felt an ominous dread to be once again alone with Jarvis in his parlor. He feared their heated argument from earlier in the afternoon would resume.
Jarvis hung up their hats then hesitated in the entryway. “I have to admit, I have deeply pondered your observations of our discussion of the South.” He motioned Kody toward the settee. “I’ve come to think those points may hold some merit.” Jarvis walked across the room and sat on the other side, maintaining a safe distance.
“But you know it’s true. You can’t be held down unless you let yourself.”
“Alright.” Kody nodded. “Before we get into that, though, I was wondering why it seemed so important that I be Welsh?”
“It’s a very safe and neutral kind of nationality. It wouldn’t be good right now to be, say, Irish.”
Kody just shook his head. “I guess things are different. We just think of ourselves as American, with different heritages.”
Jarvis turned his gaze away. “That sounds like such a rosy place, where you come from.”
“It’s not perfect.” Kody tried to deflect, hoping to brighten Jarvis’s mood. “But socially, it is better.”
Jarvis examined his fingernails. “I am trying to… understand.”
“Do you still think I’m a devil?”
“No.”
Kody watched him examining his hands. “Do you still want to kiss me?”
“Yes, even more so now, I do think. And that only makes it worse.”
“Worse how?” Kody breathed slowly, trying to show Jarvis he was staying calm. “Because I can’t be just a one-time-only guy?”
“No, you can’t.”
Kody forced himself to breath evenly. “I don’t see why that is so terrible.”
Jarvis just fidgeted with his hands. “Because if I kiss you once, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop kissing you.”
“And I still don’t see why that is so terrible.” Kody paused. “Unless….”
Jarvis waited for Kody to finish his sentence, but looked up at him after a moment of silence. “Unless what?”
Kody locked eyes with Jarvis. “Unless what you fear has nothing to do with sex at all.”
Jarvis clenched his hands together until his knuckles turned white.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re afraid of falling in love with me.”
Jarvis sat silently.
“Aren’t you?”
“You… everything has already been turned upside down. And you continue to bewitch me.”
The Color of Spring Lightning Page 3
