The Arrival of Richard III

by Kari August

  Ned looked down at his pajamas. “Oh, sorry, Aunt Elle. I forgot I was wearing them. But I’m, uh . . . good. I’m good.”

  “I thought this would be a wonderful time for a visit. Grandma Sally encouraged me to do so. She sends her best.”

  Ned visibly swallowed. “About the prank phone call—”

  Aunt Elle patted him on the cheek. “Never you mind. I know you needed to blow off some steam after losing your job. We won’t talk any more about it. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Guess who I brought with me?”

  “Who?”

  “Your cousin Clarence. He said he wanted to make a beer run and dropped me off, but he should be here shortly.”

  Ned’s voiced dropped. “Oh.”

  She turned her attention to Dickie, and Ned started to introduce him. “Aunt Elle, this is our English cousin—” He halted as a loud honking car sped up the driveway, then screeched to a stop.

  Dickie heard Ned mutter under his breath, “Oh, God. It’s Cousin Clarence. Just what I need.”

  Ned trudged over to greet his cousin while Aunt Elle clearly chose to ignore Ned’s remark. She inquired of Dickie who he was.

  Dickie was bedazzled. He honestly did not know whether he had ever seen such a refined, beautiful woman, which was saying a lot, since she appeared years older than he. Wanting to impress her, he said, “I’m Richard, King of—” He nearly said, “England.” But he cut himself short. Ned had made it perfectly clear the last couple days that he shouldn’t tell anybody else who he was. He ended with, “. . . of . . . York.”

  Aunt Elle laughed. “I’m Eleanor . . . of Occaquon.”

  Did she just say Eleanor of Aquitaine? Dickie’s famous great-great-something . . . was it grandmother? Of course! Her beauty had been legendary. He glanced over at Ned, who looked like his brother Eddie, greeting his cousin Clarence, who looked like . . . Oh, Lord. Who looked just like Dickie’s brother George, the Duke of Clarence. He glanced up and silently inquired, Okay, you two. Just who is pulling my leg? Is it you, Herman, or God?

  Aunt Elle interrupted his thoughts. “I live just outside the nation’s capital. Feel free to call me Aunt Elle.”

  Dickie smiled. He liked her already. “Call me Dickie.”

  “Let’s give the boys some time to catch up with each other. Do you like shortbread cookies? I thought I’d make a batch tomorrow. They’re Ned’s favorite.”

  “I’m sure anything you make is delicious.”

  Aunt Elle grinned. “You’re such a charmer.”

  Dickie held the door for her as they walked into the cabin.

  Out on the porch, Clarence leaned back on the bench as he took a long pull of beer. Ned took a sip of his. “So the dude in the pink apron wearing the actor’s costume is our English cousin? I never heard of any English cousin. What’s his name?”

  “Dickie.”

  “Little or big?”

  “Shut up, Clarence. You’ll like him.”

  Clarence dropped the front legs of the bench back to the ground. “Wait a minute. . . .”

  Ned could almost see the wheels in Clarence’s minuscule brain turning. He shook his head. This wasn’t going to be good. Clarence eyed him in his pajamas and said, “Aunt Elle showed me a photo of you and your former girlfriend, Charlena. Did you and that hot babe ever, you know . . .” He made a pumping motion with his fist.

  “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Oooooh. I get it. You couldn’t because . . .” His eyes widened. “I never knew. So you and Dickie, our English cousin, are shacking up together—”

  “No. It’s not like that, moron.”

  “Ned. It’s all right. I have no problem with alternative lifestyles. I still love you like a brother.” He looked Ned in the eye. “Honestly, cuz.”

  Ned shook his head and looked skyward. He didn’t have the energy to argue the point this morning. “So what’s new with you, Clarence?”

  “I hate to inform you, Ned, but I think you’re going to lose Grandma Sally’s competition.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Clarence chuckled. “Because I’ve figured out how to get around a zoning issue in Florida.”

  “Zoning? That state’s so overdeveloped, how can there be any zoning?”

  Clarence waved him off. “You know how my club is one of the trendiest in Florida?”

  “Yeah, I heard you were doing well.”

  “I’m going to expand into another one, but this joint is going to be really special.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I can’t open a strip club, but there’s no ordinance against all my waitresses wearing wet T-shirts. All the time. Every day.” He grinned. “I’m going to call it Boobs Are Us.”

  Ned couldn’t hold back a smile and took another sip.

  Clarence raised both brows and smiled. “Sixty-five.”

  Ned asked, “Sixty-five what?”

  “Sixty-five is the exact temperature at which a woman is not too cold, but her titties show to best advantage. I did a scientific study with my ex-girlfriend. I’m going to keep my new club at sixty-five degrees.”

  “You mean if you can get away with it!” Ned slapped his head and laughed hard for the first time in a while. He raised his hand for a high five. Clarence obliged vigorously, just as he always had when they were little kids. And just like that they were taken back to the time when they were compadre cousins, running around together all day long. Best friends. Inseparable. When the only serious argument they had ever had was when Clarence had captured a bunch of tadpoles and put them in a jar. Ned had tipped the container over and pushed Clarence into the pond because he couldn’t stand to see any creature imprisoned. Of course, that was long before Grandma Sally had started the competition. . . .

  Ned quieted. The stupid competition! How that onerous thing had ruined their friendship. And suddenly Ned realized he wanted no more of the competition. There was more to life than winning his inheritance. Ned wanted to feel the same kinship again with his cousin.

  Clarence was still grinning. Ned smiled back. “Clarence, would you like to go hiking with me tomorrow? We could leave early and camp on Longs Peak.”

  Clarence looked surprised. “Shit, cuz. I haven’t done something like that for years.”

  “Come on. It’d be fun.”

  “But what would I do for gear?”

  Ned smiled, knowing Clarence was interested. “Let me show you. There’s a hoard of stuff in Grandma’s attic.”

  They both walked into the cabin and started up the stairs, talking between themselves, ignoring Aunt Elle and Dickie, who were sitting on the couch, watching television.

  Aunt Elle nodded smugly at Dickie. “I just knew Clarence’s company would be good for Ned.”

  Dickie flipped around the channels, but returned again to the Television Buying Network. “Oh, look. Dougie’s Kitchen Korner is on. Do you know this show?”

  Aunt Elle scoffed. “Do I know this show?! Dougie got me through my first year of separation from my husband.”

  Dickie sat up straighter and asked excitedly, “You know Dougie?”

  Elle shook her head. “Well, not personally. But I found no matter how depressed I was, turning on Dougie and watching him do his dance just always lifted my spirits. He’s really a special person. So cheery.”

  Dickie nodded. “I know what you mean. Can I ask you something? Why’d you leave your husband if it upset you?”

  Elle looked at Dickie. “How do you know he didn’t leave me?”

  “A gorgeous creature such as yourself? Impossible.”

  Elle chuckled. “What a flirt you are. Actually, my husband thought I had betrayed him.”

  Dickie’s mouth dropped open. Good God, Henry II had thought his queen, Eleanor, had been disloyal to him, also. It was history repeating itself all over again.

  Elle shook her head. “Don’t look so shocked, Dickie. I never deceived him. Hal just thinks I did.”

/>   “What happened?”

  “It was the silliest thing. See, my first and second husbands are both rival heads of major network studios, and I am still on speaking terms with my first husband Lou. So when Lou released a show within a week similar to Hal’s new hit comedy, Hal thought I had spilled the beans about the concept to Lou before it came out.”

  “What?”

  “Dickie, it’s not important. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Hal and I are not divorced. We’re separated.”

  “How long have you been separated then?”

  Elle hesitated before answering. “Nine years.”

  Dickie nodded sagely. “You both still love each other, then.”

  Elle ignored him and pointed at the television. “Look, Dougie’s plugging those croissants again. Don’t they look tasty?”

  The next day Dickie and Aunt Elle gazed out the kitchen window and watched Ned and Clarence head down the driveway on their way to their camping trip. Dickie had tried to warn Ned the previous night about history possibly repeating itself. He needed to be careful with Clarence. After all, his brother George, the Duke of Clarence, had rebelled against his older brother Eddie, the king, and since Ned looked like Eddie and Clarence looked like George, did that mean that Clarence would do something harmful to Ned? Ned had just laughed, but Dickie was still worried.

  And a bit envious, if truth be told. Seeing the pair together reminded Dickie of the easy camaraderie he had shared with his brothers most of their lives. He missed them and the rest of his family. Was he doing the right thing, remaining in the twenty-first century? Was it really so important to repair his reputation?

  Yes! If it would ensure he would make it into heaven where he was certain all his relatives were waiting for him. Who wouldn’t continue to try with the threat of hell ever after? And, of course, there was the little matter of his own pride. No, he was definitely staying for a while longer.

  Elle broke into his thoughts. “Ready to help me make shortbread cookies?”

  Dickie smiled. “Absolutely. Let me just grab my apron first.” He glanced around. “Where’d I leave it this time?”

  Elle pointed to the dining room table. “It’s over there.”

  Dickie walked over and picked up his apron from the tabletop. “Uh-oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look what I found under the apron. Ned’s phone. He never goes anywhere without his phone.”

  Elle waved away his concern. “It’ll do him good to be without it. Besides, Clarence probably brought his if they need help.”

  Dickie shrugged and walked back into the kitchen. “What do we do first?”

  An hour later, Dickie took his first bite and shook his head appreciatively. “Aunt Elle, these are delicious. No wonder they’re Ned’s favorites.”

  Elle walked over to the refrigerator and peered inside. “Does Ned have any jam? I like them best with a spoonful of strawberry jelly on top.”

  “I want to try the fudge sauce on mine. Pull out the jar while you’re at it.”

  While they each shared a bite of the other’s creation, Dickie remarked, “Dougie in the Kitchen seems to like caramel drizzled on top of things.”

  Elle nodded. “Yeah, that and he’s a big fan of ginger.”

  Dickie eyes grew to saucers and his mouth fell open. “That’s it! That’s the answer to the money problem!”

  Elle frowned. “What money problem?”

  “The Clear Richard III’s Name Society needs money, and we’re going to make it by selling these cookies on Dougie’s show!”

  Elle chuckled and shook her head. “Yeah, right.”

  Dickie implored, “I’m serious, Elle. We could sell a plain, strawberry, fudge, and caramel version. Dougie would love it!”

  Elle smiled. “What would we call them?”

  Dickie paused a moment. “The King’s English shortbread cookies.”

  “I think they’re most accurately referred to as Scottish shortbread biscuits.”

  Dickie grimaced. “Never.”

  “But, Dickie, do you have any idea how television works?”

  Dickie frowned. “No, why?”

  “Well, you would first have to convince someone at the Television Buying Network that they should even try selling my cookies, and believe me, that would be an enormous endeavor. They probably get items hyped to them all day long. Perhaps if you knew someone who had a connection to the network—”

  Just then Ned’s phone started ringing. Dickie walked over to the table, picked it up, and read the screen. “It’s Charlena again. Ned won’t take her calls.”

  Elle frowned. “That’s terrible. I’m sure she meant no harm.”

  Dickie nodded, hit the speaker button, and answered the phone. “Hello?”

  A sweet voice responded, “Neddie, is that you?”

  “No, this is his English cousin, Dickie. I’m staying at his cabin. Ned’s out camping right now.”

  There was a loud sigh. “Oh, I see.”

  “Can I be of any assistance?”

  Another loud sigh. “No, no. I was hoping I could be the one to help. Did Neddie tell you what happened? I feel so bad. It’s all my fault he lost his job, and I wanted to say again how sorry I am—”

  Dickie interrupted. “Oh, I’m sure Ned’s not upset with you.” He looked over at Elle and rolled his eyes.

  “Really? Do you think Ned’s not mad at me? Because I wanted to tell him that I was talking with Daddy, and Daddy said he could hire Ned at one of his companies.”

  “Your father owns companies? What kind of companies?”

  “Well, you see, Daddy owns so many, it’s kind of hard to keep track of them all. But there are manufacturing companies, and oil companies, and he’s on the board of some phone and television companies—”

  Dickie’s brows shot up. “How about the Television Buying Network?”

  “Hmmm. I’m not sure. Would Ned like to work there, do you think?”

  “Not a chance. But he would like to sell shortbread cookies on Dougie’s Kitchen Korner.”

  “Huh?”

  “Let me explain. . . .”

  A couple hours later the phone rang. Dickie answered and again put it on speaker. “Charlena? Any good news to report?”

  She responded excitedly. “Dickie! Guess what? Daddy’s arranging for you and Elle to be on Dougie’s Kitchen Korner!”

  Dickie couldn’t help himself. He jumped up and down and gave Elle the thumbs-up sign. “That’s wonderful. How soon?”

  “Well, Daddy said he would have to put pressure on the normal approval process, and they would need sample cookies—but I assured Daddy yours would be great—and your kitchen would be required to be just so—you know, stuff like that—but possibly in a few weeks.”

  Elle started shaking her head. “I can’t give that kind of commitment with all the work I need to do for my charity.”

  Dickie shrugged. “Charlena, Elle can’t do it. We’ll change that to Ned and me appearing on Dougie’s show.”

  “All right. I’ll tell Daddy.” Dickie then heard a sigh. “But, Dickie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Um . . . it’s only a onetime deal. If the cookies don’t sell, he can’t give you another chance.”

  “Charlena, Charlena. Ye of little faith. Have no fear. These cookies will fly out the network door.”

  Later that night, Ned sighed in satisfaction as he settled back on his sleeping bag in their pitch-dark tent. He had appreciated Clarence’s company today—for the first time in years. There was just something about joking around with a close family member that couldn’t be surpassed. Clarence got his sense of humor.

  Ned closed his eyes, but didn’t feel sleepy. He let his thoughts wander. He briefly felt guilty, admitting to himself one of the reasons he had suggested this camping trip. Sure, he had wanted to spend more time with Clarence. But it was also a great excuse for holding off on job huntin
g yet one more day, which financially he couldn’t afford to do much longer. Well, so be it. At least this excursion wasn’t costing him much. Ned fleetingly wondered if it was worse finding excuses daily not to get on with his life or realizing what he was doing and still doing it anyway.

  He heard Clarence fussing with his sleeping bag, trying to find a comfortable position. “So, Clarence, you haven’t told me what’s new with the four Bs.”

  “Burt and Buff are sporting gaudy golden chains around their necks these days.”

  “Oh, no. Why?”

  “They’re trying to fit in better with their Florida real estate clients. They need to increase their business now that they’ve bought that new top-of-the-line sport fishing vessel.”

  “Does Grandma Sally know about it?”

  Clarence snorted. “Are you kidding? She’d have a fit.”

  Ned nodded. “Probably so.”

  “Biddy and Bunny have taken up jogging.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I followed them one day. They ran for about one minute in their designer outfits, then walked the rest of the way. Of course, they had to stop and chat with all the neighbors while they were at it.”

  Ned chuckled. “Some things never change.”

  “Nope.”

  There was a pause in the conversation; then Ned ventured, “Clarence, have you ever wished that Grandma Sally had never started that competition between us?”

  Clarence hesitated before answering, “Yes and no.”

  “How so?”

  “Ned, as much as I miss goofing around with you the way we did when we were younger, I’m not like you.”

  “Well, you were always more interested in sports—”

  “It’s more than that. You’re driven to succeed.”

  Ned thought about his recent behavior, his conflicted emotions about becoming a park ranger instead of a lawyer, and almost told Clarence.

  But Clarence wasn’t finished talking. “I’m determined to . . . well, relish every last fucking second of life and have no regrets whatsoever when I leave this world. If Grandma Sally hadn’t come up with this competition, I don’t know if I would have my successful club, let alone be opening another one. I might be blowing through whatever money I had uselessly, like the four Bs, until it was all gone.”