by Sandi Scott
“Still, when you need him or any of the kids, they are always there.”
“That’s true—Stan, too—whether I like it or not.”
Aleta watched her sister shake her head and roll her eyes, but she knew Georgie secretly liked that Stan was so close by. She also knew that he’d be paving her driveway before the month was out, and Georgie would be gushing all over him offering him lemonade and a sandwich every day he was there.
Georgie looked at Aleta.
“Yes, I’m going to let him blacktop the driveway. He’s right. It needs it.”
“How come you don’t read my mind when I’m sick and need someone to make me chicken noodle soup?”
“I do. I just ignore you,” Georgie laughed and gently nudged her sister. They both laughed as they sipped their coffee and finished their second tarts, getting one more for each of them to take home.
Georgie was adjusting her jacket as she waited outside for her sister when she noticed a familiar silhouette standing across the street at the hardware store. "I'll bet he's buying the tar for my driveway right now." She clicked her tongue and waited for him to turn and wave or give her a nod, but he didn't do anything. Suddenly she was struck with a notion, What if he saw Obby talking to me?
“I can’t believe these little tarts are so good. The guy inside says his mother makes them from scratch and—what’s the matter?” Aleta saw the concerned look on her sister’s face.
“Stan is across the street.”
Aleta looked over and saw him. “So?”
“So, what if he saw me talking with Obby?” Georgie jingled her earrings and her bracelets as she rubbed her temples.
“You’re not in high school, Georgie. You can talk to anyone you want,” Aleta soothed.
“But this seems weird.”
“The only thing weird is you in that outfit. Now let’s get going. Maybe Andrew will be early.”
Remembering her son’s visit Georgie quickly shook off her feeling of gawkiness and slipped her arm around her sister’s. “Did you get a tart for Andrew?” Georgie asked.
“Whoa, what a thing for a mother to ask!” Aleta slanted Georgie a look, “Did I get a tart for Andrew! That’s some double entendre!”
Georgie caught her sister’s joke and they whooped with laughter while walking back to their homes.
Chapter 2
“Aleta, we’ve got a change in plans.” Georgie entered her sister’s house through the rear screen door.
“What’s happening?” Aleta was standing at her kitchen counter chopping up some cucumbers she’d pulled from her garden.
“Andrew just called. He and J.R. are at the airport, and the car rental agency doesn’t have a car for them.”
“What?”
“They said the rentals were overbooked, and they have to wait for a different car rental company to bring them a vehicle, which could take anywhere from fifteen minutes to half the day.” Georgie shrugged her shoulders. “I told him I was coming to pick them up.”
“Okay, do you want to take my car?”
“Heavens, no!” Georgie squawked. “I’m taking Pablo. I was hoping Bodhi could stay here with you and Freckles while I’m gone.”
“Of course,” Aleta said. Within minutes Bodhi was curled up in his favorite spot on Aleta’s couch with Freckles, Aleta’s cat, happily nuzzled against him, and Georgie was pulling out of her driveway heading toward O’Hare Airport.
Finding the Southwest gate was easy enough, but the line of cars dropping off and picking up passengers rivaled the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Advancing inch by inch, Georgie was finally close enough to see the top of Andrew’s head. He was tall and handsome, just like his father. Next to him was his partner-in-crime, J.R. Tanned and fit, they could have just stepped off the cover of a Sports Illustrated magazine.
“Woo-hoo!” She called out the window waving wildly. “Andrew! Woo-hoo!” Georgie was drawing the attention of every person waiting on the sidewalk.
“Mama! Mama!” Andrew waved back wildly, jumping up and down and pointing. “That’s my mother! Over there!” He said to everyone within earshot. J.R. laughed loudly as he slung his bag over his shoulder and began to walk toward the car.
“Your Mama is a riot.” He clapped Andrew on the back.
“You haven’t seen the half of it.” Andrew responded good naturedly.
Georgie emerged from the car hopping on tip-toe until Andrew got closer. She opened her arms and hugged him tightly; then, it was J.R.’s turn.
“You boys look wonderful,” she squealed. “Now get in. Let’s get out of here.”
“You had to drive Pablo?” Andrew sighed as he and J.R. tried to stuff their bags in the tiny trunk at the front of the car. “Everyone is looking at us.”
“That’s because you boys are so handsome, and they’ve never seen a car with a trunk under the hood. Hurry up. We’re blocking traffic,” Georgie ordered and climbed back behind the wheel.
"Okay, J.R. Suck in your gut and climb in," Andrew said holding the front seat down while J.R. climbed in the back.
“I always wondered what it would be like to ride in a clown car,” J.R. teased.
"You're so droll," Georgie smirked. "Andrew, are you in?"
“Yup.” He slammed the car door. “Let’s go, Mama.”
“Hang on to your hats, boys.” Before they knew what happened, they were out of the congestion of O’Hare Airport and speeding down the interstate toward home.
“What do you guys want for supper? There is a brand new Chinese place that opened up not far from the house, and there is also a fantastic barbeque joint that I like. The only problem is that after a certain time you have to stand in line to get inside. There is also Angelo’s. That’s one of your favorites, Andrew. We could go there.”
“How about we order a pizza and stay home?” Andrew suggested.
"Yeah, Georgie,” J.R. chimed in, “we don't need you to chauffeur us around the whole time we're here. Plus, plane rides are exhausting."
"Well, if that's what you'd like. We'll have Aunt Aleta and your Dad come over, too. Would that be okay?"
“That sounds great. Thanks, Mama.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
The conversation bounced around from where the boys’ latest travels had taken them, to the people they met, and, ultimately and most importantly, to the desserts they sampled. “Andrew could eat dessert for every meal and he still wouldn’t gain a pound,” J.R. scoffed. “I’d be at the gym for hours if I had to keep up with his eating habits.”
“He takes after his Aunt Aleta. She’s another one who can eat her weight in chocolate and not gain an ounce. I always knew there was something wrong with her,” Georgie harrumphed.
By the time they made it home it was almost four o’clock. "After all that, I'm starved," Georgie confessed as she climbed out of the car.
"Andrew, go next door and get Bodhi and your Aunt Aleta. Tell her she's coming over for pizza. I'd call your father but it looks like he's already aware you're home." Georgie put her hand on her hip and stalked to the edge of the driveway. Stan pulled up to the curb and hopped out of the car. "Stanley Toon, are you stalking me?" Georgie was happy interrogating her ex-husband. "Kind of a peculiar coincidence your being right down the street when we pull into the driveway. Your surveillance skills might be slipping."
“Now Georgie you know me well enough to know my skills are spot-on.” He slinked up to his ex-wife and slipped his arm around her waist.
“Are you drunk?”
“Can’t a man be happy to be with his family? Is that a crime?”
"When that man chose to dig in the dirt for six months rather than be with his wife of thirty-five years, I don't know if that man has his head on straight." Georgie wiggled out of his grasp.
“Biggest mistake of my life,” Stan crooned, “and one that you are never going to let me forget.”
“Darn tootin’.” Georgie jerked her chin toward the house. “The boys are in the house.�
�
Within minutes everyone was in the kitchen talking at once, even Bodhi sniffed and snorted his affection all over Andrew. “Looks like he missed you.” Georgie tussled her boy’s hair.
"We've seen a couple of pugs in San Francisco but none as cute as this guy."
“Do you boys mind helping me in the garden?” Aleta asked. “I just picked some cucumbers, but I haven’t gotten to the tomatoes or the peppers. We’ll have a fresh salad with our pizza.”
“Sure, Aunt Aleta.” Andrew and J.R. followed her out the back door leaving Georgie alone with Stan.
“So, are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?” Stan reached over Georgie’s head to help her pull down glasses from the top shelf of the cabinet.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“You seemed to be having a very serious conversation with some guy in a suit this morning.”
“Which one?”
The look on Stan’s face was priceless. “What do you mean which one?”
“Honestly, Stan, do you think you are the only male I engage in conversation?”
“As far as I knew, I was the only one who ever made you light up that way. All smiles and cute gestures, acting sassy.” He grumbled as he turned away to put the glasses on the table.
Georgie knew her cheeks were going to give her away, so she quickly bent down to retrieve a large bowl from a lower cabinet. Although right in front where it always was, she stalled and pulled out half a dozen other pots and pans. “Aha! There you are giant salad bowl.”
“I’m just wondering who he is. Is it wrong for me to want to look out for you?”
“Well, Stan, I know you don’t like to be reminded but you did up and leave the kids and me to go digging for gold. Don’t tell me there wasn’t a goodly amount of fly fishing going on, too. You didn’t seem too worried about looking out for me or the kids then.” Stan stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slouched. Georgie thought it was totally unfair that a man could look so good when he’s being scolded.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Your son is here after being gone for months,” Georgie soothed. “Shouldn’t you be more interested in his plans than mine?”
“What about my plans?”
“What plans do you have, Stan?”
“Well, I planned on snuggling up with you on the couch after the kids have gone to bed and convincing you to take the ‘ex’ out of your name.”
“You are too much.” Georgie elbowed past him carrying her big salad bowl to the round kitchen table.
“Let me just tell you one thing, Georgie Kaye. If you think I’m afraid of a little competition, you’re wrong.”
“What competition, Dad?” Andrew asked as he and J.R. came in carrying loads of tomatoes, green peppers, and a couple of scallions.
“Just your mother’s heart,” Stan grinned.
"Don't pay any attention to your father, Andrew. He's been hit in the head so many times he can't think straight." She pointed to the sink. "Put those things in there and I'll wash them off. Why don't you boys go wash up and change your clothes? The pizza will be here in about forty-five minutes."
“Aunt Aleta said she’s getting dessert. You sure you don’t need any help?” Andrew asked.
"I got it, son," Stan replied, giving Georgie a wink.
"Mama, do I need to be a chaperone and sit between you and Dad? Let's remember we have guests."
“You’re as bad as your father. Get upstairs before I ground you.”
Once the pizza arrived everyone ate as if it was their last meal. Georgie didn’t say anything to Stan about Obby. More than once she had to push his hand off her knee under the table, but she couldn’t help feeling happy with him there.
Chapter 3
"Okay, Mama," Andrew said as he cleared the table after Stan and Aleta had left. “I hope you’re not too tired.”
“Why?”
“J.R. and I have a surprise for you.”
“You’re going to love it, Georgie.” J.R. grinned.
"Really? Well, I can hardly wait. Should I close my eyes?"
"No. Go change into a nice outfit, and we'll meet you in the car in fifteen minutes," Andrew instructed.
“Where are we going?”
"Not too far," J.R. assured her. "Just over to Northbrook."
Georgie searched the files in her head but couldn’t come up with anything that would be of great interest in Northbrook. She was intrigued. “Do I need to make sure Aunt Aleta has bail money?”
“That’s probably not a bad idea.”
Just as the sun was setting Andrew drove Pablo with Georgie in the front and poor J.R. crammed in the back seat again. “I’m fine as long as we don’t pick up a hitchhiker,” he was philosophical about the seating. “I can stretch my legs sideways.”
“How much further is this place?” Georgie asked. She had slipped into her favorite mustard colored skirt and a baggy rust colored blouse with a giant evil eye medallion hanging around her neck.
“It’s right up there.” J.R. pointed to a building that would have looked abandoned if it weren’t for the line of people waiting to get inside.
After parking the car and getting in line, Georgie studied the audience and came to the conclusion that this was going to be one heck of an experience. “I think I should have worn my top hat.”
“You look great, Mama. Hey, J.R., go see if you can find Scott or Tammy anywhere.”
J.R. took off toward the head of the line. Within minutes he was waving Georgie and Andrew to come join him where a bouncer, who looked like he might have played for the Chicago Bears in his free time, escorted them inside a special roped off V.I.P. area.
“This reminds me of those old dance halls they used to have when Grandma was a young lady.” Georgie took her son’s hand as he led her through the maze of tables into the grand room. They took a seat at a table that was so close to the stage Georgie could see the delicate leaf pattern in the curtain. Just as they were all getting comfortable, a woman in a glittery gold flapper outfit came trotting up to them.
“Andrew!” She waved. “We’re so glad you could come!”
“Hi, Tammy!” Andrew stood and hugged the attractive woman.
“And J.R.! I’m so glad you guys could make it! Did you have any trouble getting in? I told those guys to make sure you were on the list.”
“No, everyone’s been great so far.” Andrew smiled. “Tammy, this is my Mama, Georgie Kaye.”
Tammy gasped, “Georgie, I’ve heard so much about you!” Tammy pumped Georgie’s hand as if she might get oil out of it. “I’m Tammy Leloup. My husband Pierre is around here somewhere. I’ll have him stop by when he gets a chance.”
“How has the show been going so far?” Andrew asked.
“We’ve had a packed house every night. Madame Bray is amazing. You won’t believe your eyes.”
“Madame Bray?” Georgie asked.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to run. My part is small, but if anyone is out of order, Henry goes ballistic. Enjoy the show.”
"Break a leg," Georgie called after Tammy. "What exactly are we seeing here, Andrew?"
"Just wait until they officially open the doors," J.R. was mysterious.
As if fireworks had been set off, suddenly red, gold, and purple lights came up all along the walls. Chandeliers twinkled overhead. Catchy music began to fill the air over the loudspeakers and within a matter of minutes Georgie, Andrew, and J.R. were front and center in a huge ballroom that was packed to the rafters with people. It reminded Georgie of a beehive.
“How about a drink for everyone?” J.R. asked.
“I’ll take my usual since I’m driving,” Andrew chirped.
“Let’s see. I’ll have a piña colada.” Georgie shimmied her shoulders. “This is a special occasion, so I think one fancy drink is in order.”
“Good choice, Mama.”
“I’ll be right back.” J.R. strolled off to the massive bar that lined the
left side of the room. It was also bustling with people waving at the bartenders, talking, and sipping their martinis and flutes of champagne.
“So, exactly what is it we’ll be seeing Madame Bray perform?” Georgie looked at Andrew who was relaxing in his seat with his arm stretched behind his mother.
“This is The Clever Bulldog Cabaret.” Andrew grinned proudly. “J.R. and I met Tammy and Pierre in San Francisco and saw the show there. You won’t believe it.”
"A cabaret? How exciting." Georgie patted her son's shoulder. "This is a wonderful idea, honey. I'm very excited, and I have to say I'm rather shocked there are so many people here. Cabarets aren't what I'd consider mainstream."
“No, they aren’t, but trust me, you will be so impressed with the music—and wait until you get a load of the costumes! Just amazing!”
“How long until the curtain goes up?”
Out of the crowd, J.R. appeared with the drinks. “The bartender said the show will start in about five or ten minutes," he answered Georgie's question. "A piña colada for you—" He set down an hourglass-shaped glass filled with a rum and coconut smelling concoction complete with pineapple wedge, maraschino cherry, and a tiny green paper umbrella.
“Thank you, J.R. This looks wonderful.” She took a sip and rolled her eyes. “It’s like a liquid coconut cream pie.”
“—a scotch and soda for me, and Andrew gets his regular—a Shirley Temple.”
“Take it easy on that, Mama,” Andrew warned his mother. “You aren’t a big drinker, so I don’t want to have to pull you down off the bar or stop you from hitting on some woman’s husband because you can’t handle your alcohol.”
“Very funny, young man.” She turned to J.R. “My son thinks I was always this age and never did anything but take care of him and his brother and sister. I had a social life at one time. Your father and I painted the town red more than once. How do you think you got here?”
“No! No! Mama! Stop!” Andrew laughed while covering his ears. “I don’t want to know!”
