Plan Bea

by Hilary Grossman

  “What are you doing here?” Violet inquired with quite a bit of sass in her tone. Her little brother quietly stood behind her, ambivalent. Harley, unlike his sister, was the most easygoing kid around.

  “Having dinner, of course. Didn't your mother tell you I was coming?” She stripped off her sable fur coat and practically threw it at Cole without so much as a nod of thanks. He obediently hung it in the closet. I could just imagine the thoughts running through his head.

  With her hands firmly planted on her hips, Violet looked up at my mother. “Mommy said Grandma was coming. I expected my grandma, Grandma Connie,” she clarified. “I didn't expect you. It's not like it’s a holiday or anyone's birthday. You never come just because.”

  It took all my strength to not smile. My daughter called it like she saw it, and as usual, she was spot on. I felt like I should scold her. “Violet...” I started, but her blue eyes shined brightly and opened wide, like an idea magically popped into her head.

  Inquisitively she turned to face Cole. “Daddy? Is today a holiday I don't know about? It can't be a real holiday 'cause I had school. But could it be one of those grown-up holidays?”

  Cole squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry sweetie, there’s no holiday today.“

  “Darn it! Now there is no shot of getting a present,” she said with a pout.

  “Do you need a gift?” My mother asked as she opened her wallet and pulled out two twenties.

  Violet looked up at her grandmother but didn’t accept the bills. “No, I don’t need anything. I just thought a present might make tonight less boring. It’s not like you’re gonna play with us. Come on Harley. Let’s get outta here.”

  “Not so fast, little girl,” A deep voice bellowed. For the first time, I looked—really looked—at the man standing next to my mother. He was tall, about six-feet, two-inches. On the stocky side, he had a full head of gray hair and devilish green eyes. If I had to guess his age, I’d say he was in his late sixties—at least five years older than my mother. While she was decked out in a cream Chanel suit, he dressed casually in a long-sleeved, gray polo shirt and light blue jeans.

  Violet must not have noticed him before either. “Who are you?” She crinkled her nose.

  “My name’s Walter. I’m a friend of your grandma. But my really good friends, the special ones who are the most fun, call me Wally. I’m hoping by the time you two go to bed tonight, y'all will be calling me Wally too.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. I must have been a worse influence than I thought.

  “Hey! I saw that, young lady!” Walter admonished.

  Harley looked like he was about to cry. Even Violet looked taken back. Wonderful. If my mom wasn’t cold enough, her main squeeze made it his business to scare my children.

  Cole’s jaw clenched, his body turned rigid as his eyes filled with rage.

  It was clear to me he had a difficult time keeping his temper under control. Why had I agreed to this evening? Before Cole or I could say anything, Walter smiled and let out a deep laugh. He gently tickled Violet, who also started to giggle. The tension in the room began to ease ever so slightly.

  “You don't think you’ll be calling me Wally, huh? Hmm, okay…I guess…but an old man can hope, can't he? Did either one of you see the bag I was holding when I came in?” He gently turned his attention to my son and tickled Harley too.

  “I did!” Harley squealed.

  “It's over there.” Violet said all businesslike. She pointed to the corner by the front door.

  Walter brought the bag over to the kids. “Let's see what’s inside, okay?” Walter bent down and pulled out a beautiful bouquet of white roses. “These are for your mommy. Does she like flowers?”

  “Yeah!” yelled Harley.

  “Good!” Walter said as he handed them to Violet. “Do me a favor and give these pretty flowers to your pretty mommy. Then come back. There might be something in this bag for you and your brother too.” Violet did as she was told.

  My mother had had enough of this domestic bliss. She marched into the living room; her high heels clinked on the oak wood floor as she made her way over to the yellow leather sectional against the big bay window. She tossed an abandoned Barbie doll onto the floor before she parked herself on the couch. Lila, my eleven-year-old black and white cat, rubbed up against my mother’s leg and caused Beatrice to jump.

  She screeched, “Can’t you do something with this thing?”

  Beatrice was never a fan of felines, and Lila sensed her dislike from day one. A few years after I’d rescued her from a kill shelter, Bea came over for Thanksgiving dinner. She kept trying to shoo Lila away. Gotta love a cat who gets her revenge by peeing in a pair of expensive Manolos that were left by the front door. My mother never took off her shoes in my house again. I think it’s pretty funny that Lila always ends up running up to Beatrice as soon as she sits down—like she’s trying to make up for that one little incident.

  Lila, after making her point, left the room, and Beatrice picked up one of the many fashion magazines I had laying on the coffee table. She absently thumbed through the glossy pages for a second or two before calling out, “Cole, sweetheart, please be a plum and fix me a drink. A gin martini, if you don’t remember. Oh, make Walter one too while you’re at it.”

  “Yes, your majesty.” Cole snickered. If my mother noticed his sarcasm, she didn’t show it.

  “Beatrice, please.” Walter turned towards her. “Can you have a little patience for once?” Then he faced Cole. “Don't go. I've got something here for you too.” He dramatically looked around the room, “Hey, where is my assistant?”

  Violet raised her hand and beamed. “Here I am!”

  “Good. Now you’ve got to be careful with this. Are you strong?” Walter asked very seriously.

  “Yeah! Look at my muscles.” Violet rolled up her sleeve and flexed her right arm. Walter reached down and gave her bicep a big squeeze.

  “Oh really, Walter,” my mother called from her perch on the couch. “Why must you make such a fuss, announcing everything to everyone. It’s getting annoying. Can’t you simply hand everyone their gifts and move on?”

  “Oh, calm yourself, will ya? I’m trying to make an impression, Beatrice.” Walter retorted. In a softer voice, he joked, “You should try it sometime.” He winked at me and then turned his attention back to Violet. “Oh man, little girl! You sure are strong! Wowzers! This bottle of wine is for your daddy. I’ve had it in my cellar for years. I’ve been waiting for a special occasion, and today feels special to me. I hope your daddy likes wine!”

  “They both do!” Violet said as she reached for the bottle.

  “Walter!” My mother called out again. “Have you lost your mind? You are giving a 1985 Bordeaux to a ten-year-old? Are you trying to make a mess of my daughter’s house?”

  “Clearly you didn’t check out this little girl’s guns, Bea! She’ll do fine. Go on, honey, give this to your dad.”

  I never saw Violet move so slowly or so carefully. She glowed when she handed over the bottle to Cole, who, despite Walter’s request, dropped off two freshly shaken gin martinis in front of my mother.

  As Beatrice sipped her drink, Walter kept turning on the charm. My children weren’t the only ones smitten with him. I couldn’t believe how easygoing and fun he was. I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams my mother would be capable of attracting a guy as cool as he appeared to be. I think what I marveled the most at was how he stood up to my mother and freely spoke his mind. Most people didn’t act like this around her. Beatrice was used to getting her way, which usually made her difficult to be around.

  By the time dinner was ready, Violet toted a new American Girl doll. Even though she pretended to have outgrown dolls in front of her friends, she secretly loved them. Harley sprawled on the floor, and played with his new Lego set with Walter beside him.

  “Come on into the dining room everyone,” I called out as I placed a big bowl of salad on the table. The eggplant Parmesan was still in t
he oven on low. I was very thankful I had frozen a few extra trays a couple weeks ago when I went on a cooking frenzy. It made preparing for tonight’s unexpected dinner party much easier.

  “Where should we sit?” Walter asked.

  “Can Wally sit next to me?” asked Violet, grinning from ear to ear.

  “No, me!” Harley chimed in.

  “Walter, would you mind sitting in the middle?” I asked as Beatrice pouted.

  “Of course not, it would be my pleasure.”

  “Walter, wouldn’t you prefer to sit with me instead of the children?”

  Walter ignored my mother and took a seat between Violet and Harley.

  Violet turned to him. “How come Grandma Bea doesn’t call you Wally? She’s your friend, isn’t she?”

  “Of course she is. But remember, I said only the really fun ones call me Wally. Do you think Bea is one of the fun ones?”

  “No!” both my children screamed in unison as my mother checked her reflection in a butter knife.

  Oh man, was I glad Walter brought a good bottle of wine.

  ***

  “Thank you again, Walter, for helping me get the kids to bed,” I said as I filled his mug with coffee. “Your bedtime story was a real hit. I still can’t believe Violet sat through it. Usually she is,” I paused to make air quotes with my fingers, “too old for a bedtime story. She normally prefers to read a little bit on her Kindle before drifting off. Both of them really seem to like you.”

  “I had fun with them this evening, Annabel. You and Cole have wonderful kids. They just get under your skin.” Walter poured some cream into his cup.

  “You can say that again,” my mother said. Unfortunately, while she agreed with her boyfriend, I worried her interpretation was completely different than his.

  Walter stirred his coffee. “They are so sweet and well behaved. You really did a great job with them.”

  “Of course she did. She learned from the best.”

  Cole coughed as he started to cut the cake. He handed a huge slice to Walter. “Beatrice, I’m assuming no cake for you. You did tell Anna no carbs.” Cole handed me a piece.

  “Oh, just a wee sliver, Cole. It would be rude not to taste it. After all, Annabel did go through all this trouble for us.”

  “Of course, you would never want to be rude.” Cole snickered as he cut Beatrice the smallest slice imaginable.

  I looked at Walter and said, “Since the kids are asleep, tell us a little about yourself.”

  “Let’s see. I’m a corporate attorney, but I recently decided to cut back. Instead of retiring, I like to say I am rewiring.” He chuckled at his own joke. “I’m really trying to look at life differently, you know, beyond my desk. And thanks to Bea, I think I am.” He reached across the table and gently squeezed her hand.

  “Are you a widower?” Cole asked.

  “No, but he’s had his share of losses,” Beatrice interjected.

  Irritated, Walter nodded to my mother. “Thank you, Beatrice.” Then in a softer and kinder tone, he added, “but darling, I’m capable of answering their questions.” There was something so calming about him. Even as he scolded my mother, he didn’t say the words in an angry or a mean hearted way. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to open up and get to know us.

  My mother dated a bit after my father passed away. But none of the men ever took any interest in getting to know my family or me. In fact, there was one guy who she saw for almost two years who seemed to take an extreme pleasure in calling my husband, Carl, and me, Anastasia. But then again, Beatrice was never engaged before now.

  “Actually, I’m divorced.” Walter said. “I made a mess of my marriage. I wasn’t a good husband.” He took his glasses off his face and wiped them with his napkin.

  “Oh, Walter. Don’t say that,” Beatrice said in a comforting voice, which I didn’t recognize. She reached for his hand. “You know that’s not true. You were faced with a very difficult situation. Most men wouldn’t have been able to make it work either.”

  “I guess.” Walter replied with a shrug. He took a bite of his cake. “Delicious, Anna. Homemade frosting?”

  “Yes,” I answered with a smile. It felt great for him to notice. I took a lot of pride in my baking and never used mixes or packaged frosting. I loved the way Walter automatically took to calling me Anna. My mother was the only person who still insisted on calling me by my full name.

  “I hate to disagree with Beatrice,” he confided to Cole and me. “I’m sure you two can appreciate it’s never an easy thing to do.”

  Based on her pursed lips and folded arms, I think Cole and I laughed a little too hard for my mother’s liking, but I couldn't help it—Walter had my mother nailed.

  “Seriously, I did make a mess of my marriage,” Walter continued. “Shannon and I were high school sweethearts. She was the most popular girl in the school, and man was she beautiful. I never expected her to wait for me while I went to college and then law school, but she did. The day I graduated from Yale Law was the day I asked her to marry me. I thought I loved her before, but once we were married, all the feelings I had for her magnified. I never expected to be so happy.”

  Walter took a sip of coffee before he continued. “We were married for three years when our daughter was born. Jessica was the spitting image of her mom. Blond curls, blue eyes, and a smile that could light up a room. She was the happiest baby. Seriously, she never cried. She slept through the night from the time she was three-weeks-old. And as happy as she was, she made everyone around her happy too. She was a little comedian. A couple of weeks before her fourth birthday, she got sick. We thought she had a slight case of the flu. Shannon never liked doctors. She would always say you go see them with one thing and come back with something worse. So she didn’t bring Jessica in right away. By the time she did, it was too late. Jessica had spinal meningitis.”

  Walter paused to wipe a tear away from his face. “We lost her a few days later. I couldn’t help it; I blamed Shannon for the death of my daughter. In my heart, I now know chances are even if she brought Jessica to the pediatrician immediately; we still would have lost her. But I couldn’t stop wondering, what if? Shannon was devastated too. Jessica was the center of her world, just as she was the center of mine. She desperately needed me to comfort her but I couldn’t. She knew I blamed her. I couldn’t hide my disgust. I couldn’t stand being in the same room as my own wife. So I started working longer hours. And then I just stopped coming home all together. We divorced six months to the day we buried my baby.”

  “Oh, Walter. I’m so sorry.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was to lose a child.” I turned to my mother and looked her square in the eye. I was trying to gauge her reaction, but I saw nothing. Not one trace of emotion. I wasn’t surprised.

  “Thanks, Anna. I figured you’d be sympathetic. People always say it gets easier with time, but I am not so sure.” Walter replied as he reached for my hand and squeezed gently.

  “Annabel, darling, you really did an outstanding job with this cake. Cole, be a dear and cut me another sliver,” my mother requested as she handed my husband her plate.

  Typical Beatrice. There was not a dry eye in the room, and the woman who was anti-carbohydrates less than twenty-four hours ago was asking for more cake.

  “I thought you were on a diet.”

  “Oh, yes. I should be.” She beamed as she dug her fork into her desert.

  “Did you ever remarry, Walter?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, unless you count being married to my job.” He chuckled. “Besides practicing law, I’ve also spent a lot of time mentoring young attorneys. I’ve dated, of course. But I haven’t met anyone I’d consider settling down with until I met your mother.”

  “Well, Beatrice sure is a special lady,” Cole managed to say with a straight face.

  My mother cleared her throat. “Speaking of getting married—the wedding is only three months away, June fifteenth. It will be at the clu
b, of course.”

  “Wow, you sure aren’t wasting any time, are you, Mother?”

  “Of course not. What’s the point in waiting? After all, despite how great we look, Walter and I aren’t getting any younger you know. And speaking of looking great, did you see my engagement ring?”

  My mother held out her hand. On the ring finger of her left hand was the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen in my life. A large, super-bright turquoise square stone sat in the center. Turquoise chips, as well as small diamonds and pink stones, formed a circle around the stone, forming a mid-sized circle, and extended down around the sides of the band.

  “It’s beyond beautiful,” I answered as Beatrice beamed.

  “My Walter sure knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?” Fortunately, my mother was so focused on her ring, she didn’t notice when Cole choked on his coffee as he barely managed to suppress a laugh.

  “I didn’t want a diamond,” she clarified. “They are so common. Been there and done that, you know, and besides, everyone has diamonds. So Walter found this for me instead.” She held her hand up to her face and examined the ring once more. “I fell in love with it instantly. It’s Paraiba Tourmaline with pink sapphires, in case you didn’t know.” Then she whispered, “They are extremely rare.”

  I would expect nothing less. “I love it, and I am very happy for you both.” I glanced over at Walter and prayed he knew what he was getting himself into.

  “Good,” my mother gushed. “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say. Oh, darling, I need to ask you a favor. I mentioned it last night when I called. It is the real reason why I wanted to come over here for dinner tonight,” she clarified. “Although the eggplant parmesan and salad were delicious.”

  I took a sip of coffee. “Okay, Mother. What do you need?”

  “I need you to help me plan the wedding.”

  “You what? You made it seem like you were all set.”

  “Oh, no. On the contrary, I’m not prepared at all. All I have is the venue and the date. I don’t have anything else done. I need to get invitations, a band, flowers, food, cake, and, of course, the dress. Walter, take this cake. I need to be able to fit into a dress.” She almost threw the plate at him. Walter didn’t seem to mind as he immediately finished what was left of Bea’s cake.