by Michele Hauf
Elsa became aware of the murmurs and realized she was desperately clinging to a man a third her age and let go. Her embarrassed slump-shouldered posture changed in a flicker to standing bold and upright; stoic and authoritative. “I hope you have a good reason for interrupting our conversation,” she said, teeth clenched and eyes afire.
“Indeed, I do,” he answered. “Rich, I see you’ve met my daughter’s nanny. She’s been around for,” he sighed deeply, trying for the most caustic way to offend her without it making even more of a scene. “Well, let’s just say that big oak tree was a cast aside acorn when she came to work for our family. Come, let me introduce you to my daughter, Vickie Lynn.”
Elsa stuck her chest out, momentarily dumbstruck at Roger’s nerve. By the time she thought of a scathing retort, her moment had passed. The men were already halfway across the room. You’ll pay for that, Mr. Moneybags. I don’t take being cast as an aging servant lightly!
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Rich said, reaching out to shake Roger’s hand. “Oh, and thanks for the rescue,” he added in a whisper.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied in the same tone, then spoke up. “I’m Roger Thornwhistle. Your father and I went to school together many, many years ago. I think the Longwood Academy is a museum now.”
“Richard Othello Albert Rickman, the Third, but please call me Rich.”
“Ooh.” Roger resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the initials. “It’s a good thing your father never used his middle names. We would have given him even more grief!”
“Me? I love it. I can’t wait for someone to tease me. I won’t do it here with all of your guests, especially since this is the first time I’ve met many of these people, but I have a wickedly loud roar. It works great at the fraternity parties.”
“After everyone’s had a few?” Roger prompted.
“Oh, yeah…” Rich mused, then blushed. If Roger had been getting reacquainted with his father, there was a good chance he knew he was underage for drinking.
Seeing the telltale signs of chagrin, Roger thumped him on the back. “Just don’t drink around my daughter. As a reminder,” he cleared his throat, “my daughter is only sixteen. I was only recently made aware that her nanny had invited so many older young men to her soiree.”
“That’s pretty good, Mr. Thornwhistle: two oxymorons in one sentence.”
“Excuse me?”
“This event is way beyond what I’d call a soiree…”
“And?”
“Older young men,” Rich said, his smile barely contained.
“Touché. I guess I’d better warn you, though. My daughter is not only sharp, but she’s also beautiful. Don’t go falling in love with her, all right?”
“Sir, I can’t promise that, but I will promise to treat her like a lady and not take advantage of her.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, ‘and’?”
Roger thumped him on the back. “Don’t let her talk you into anything crazy like taking advantage of you!” He took one step back and looked at the now red-faced Rich.
“Great. Just what I wanted to see. At least you had the common sense to blush at my remark. Good move. Remember it one of these days if you have a daughter of your own. It’s a scary business, having one who’s both clever and beautiful. I’d like to keep her down on the farm, so to say, until she’s a little – or rather, a lot – more savvy about the tricks and tropes of the world and the people in it, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“I can appreciate wanting that. I have a sister who’s fifteen years older than me. I was the surprise baby. She got suckered into rotten marriage at an early age. I can’t imagine having to deal with a carousing husband and a baby at any age, much less at twenty and in a country so far away from our mother. I promise you, I’ll treat your daughter with respect.”
Roger realized that during their discourse, they had wound up in the kitchen, away from the other guests, and were now in the way of the serving staff. “Either you’re a good man, ROAR the Third, or you’re an excellent bullshit artist. Let’s hope it’s the former and not the latter.”
Now it was Rich’s turn to offer a hand. He set it on Roger’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you right now, I’m a lousy liar. Never learned how and was told it was a skill a gentleman didn’t need. I haven’t even seen your daughter but with a father like you, she at least had the opportunity to learn how to be a lady.”
“Bullshit?” Roger asked with a wink.
“I’d prefer to think of this one as I’m a man who’s a good judge of character. You see, my father was a great teacher, too.”
The two made their way back into the main room. Guests were practically elbow-to-elbow, the extra dinner tables taking up the milling around area that was necessary for social gatherings. Suddenly, Roger felt a tug at his elbow.
“There you are,” Vickie whispered harshly. “Mom’s been looking everywhere for you. I think she’s having a meltdown.”
Roger’s eyes widened as he searched the room for her. “Where?” he asked.
“She went to her room. You’d better get to her before you-know-who sends her over the edge.”
“Excuse me,” Roger said, remembering he was escorting Rich. “This is my daughter, Vickie Lynn…”
“Go, go, go!” Rich said. “We got this.”
The young duo watched Roger weave through the groups of three and four guests, standing with drinks in hand, carrying on small talk to pass the time.
“Damned Elsa!” Vickie hissed. “It’s all her fault.”
“The nanny?” Rich asked.
“You must have met her.”
Rich nodded and opened his mouth, ready to share at least a little of his experience and rescue but closed it, continuing to nod. He suddenly realized he hadn’t been introduced. “Oh, I’m Rich, by the way…”
Before he could say another word, Vickie cut him off. “Rich? Yeah, you and every other man who’s introduced himself to me this evening.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. That was crass, but I’ve had no less than six men approach me in the last fifteen minutes, pawing at my hand, telling me all about their portfolios and athletic prowess. I could care less about how many letters a guy got in college or whether he’s new money, old money, or no money. Geez!”
Rich pulled out each pants pocket, showing they were empty. “No money,” he said and smirked. “I’d show you my elephant impersonation, but I told your father I’d behave.”
“Your what? Oh, my…” Grace’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her laugh. “Oh, please do not show that!”
“And just for the record, my name is Rich as in Richard. I’d tell you my whole name, but then I’d have to give you my lion impersonation, too.”
“What does your name have to do with a lion? Are you a Leonard?”
“No, but I was born in the house of Leo.”
“Capricorn,” Vickie said, her hands up to mime goat horns.
“I knew that.”
“How?”
“Duh? Isn’t this your birthday party?” Rich asked.
“Duh is right. I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot. I’m extremely ticked because I thought this was just going to be family and a few friends. Next thing I know, I’m being fitted for a dress Nanny Elsa ordered one size too small so ‘I’ would fit the dress, not the other way around. I’m so hungry, I could eat the buttons off your jacket.”
Rich looked down at his tux, found the button and was ready to pop it off when he felt her hand on his. Zing! Oh, my God! That really does happen!
“It was a joke,” Vickie said, her voice soft and sincere, bringing him back to reality. Harshness overtook her tone as she continued, “Elsa claims to be Swedish, but I swear she’s an escaped Nazi. She doesn’t want me to eat tonight – she thinks I’m still too fat. She’s intolerable when I disobey her, so how about I sit next to you? It’s a buffet. If you double-load your plate, I
can sneak bites from it.”
“You’re only sixteen?” Rich asked, verifying that he should squelch the tingles he was getting for a minor.
“Yup. Remember that. And if you see me in a desperate situation and one of my crew doesn’t catch on first, please come to my rescue.”
“Your crew?”
She nodded to the threesome watching the two of them talk. “The youngest one is my unofficial godfather, Dusty. You already met my father. The balding one shooting daggers with his eyes is my father’s cousin, Hal. I don’t know who that silver-haired guy is. He looks familiar, though. I think I saw him on the cover of a magazine or something.”
“Yup. That’s my father, Rick Rickman. He’s been on the cover of Forbes, Wine World, and a few others. We own a few acres of vineyards in Oregon. It looks like they’re looking out for you.”
“Yeah, well, they can only look so far,” Vickie said, thinking of Nanny Elsa’s privileged access to her when a man wasn’t allowed in the room.
Sensing her gloom, Rich touched her elbow, wanting to reconnect and see if that zing was still there. Zing! Yup. She may be the one, but if so, he had to wait at least two years for her. Damned gypsy fortune teller! ‘Two years of torment until she is yours’ was right!
“Come on. Let’s go eat,” he said. “Chances are, you’re suffering from malnutrition or at least low blood sugar. I don’t want you passing out. The way those guys are looking at us, they’d blame me if you fainted.”
Comforted by his touch, Vickie looked up at him and smiled, feeling at ease for the first time all day. “How tall are you?”
“Six-three in my bare feet.” He lifted one foot and checked the heel. “Probably six-five in these. Why?”
“Tall, compassionate, and Rich. Any other attributes?” she asked, trying to compose herself. Dang! Why did you ask? The tingles are just because you’re hungry!
“I didn’t earn the height, and my parents gave me the name. I learned compassion by example, and my mother picked out the tux. Nope. I really don’t have any attributes. I am the sum of my environment and genetics.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, tall boy. You could have resisted the clothing, chosen to go by a nickname, and ignored your parent’s examples of compassion. I’d say your greatest attribute is making wise choices. Or at least good ones.”
Rich chuckled then let go of her elbow and picked up a dinner plate. “I’ll let you make the choices on food tonight. I’ll eat just about anything.” I make wise choices? Yes, I choose you!
The string quartet changed from dinner music to a waltz. “Care to dance with your old man?” Roger asked. “Or do you want to spend the whole evening with Rich?”
She looked down and blushed, then stood up. “Daddy…”
He led her to the dance area. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He held one hand and placed the other on her waist, ready for the waltz. “Good Lord, girl! You’re as skinny as a broom! Why haven’t you been eating?”
Done protecting her, Vickie lifted her chin and declared with eyes squinted in barely contained rage, “Because Nanny Elsa says I’m too fat!”
“You are not fat,” Roger hissed, returning the squint, then looking around the room for the tormentor. “That’s it. I don’t care what she has on us. She’s getting fired.”
“She has on us?” Vickie asked. “Has she been…”
Roger quickly put his hand on her mouth. “Don’t say it, dear. Please, don’t say a word. I shouldn’t have lost my cool. You are the only thing in this world that matters to your mother and me. Truly. You have to know that we wouldn’t have allowed her in this house for so long if it hadn’t been for a good reason. Or at least a reason so profound that life itself wouldn’t be worth living if we lost it. She threatened to have you removed. Poof. You would have been out of our lives if we didn’t acquiesce to her demands.”
“So, that’s why you gave her your Maserati for Christmas last year?”
Roger nodded, his lips tight. “Please don’t let your mother know I slipped. And please, for all the love you have for us, don’t ask about what she’s blackmailing us with.”
“Daddy, I don’t know and I don’t care. All I want is for us to stay together as a family. Believe it or not, just knowing that she’s using the ‘B’ word to keep her job makes me feel so much better. I thought it was because you and Mommy thought I needed correcting or changed or…”
“Sweetheart, you are and always have been perfect.” He looked down at her bony shoulder. “Except for being too thin. I’ll tell her I want you to start eating better, that I’m afraid you’re suffering from bulimia or anorexia or whatever that disease is. If I ask her to make sure you overcome it, maybe she’ll back off. At this point, all I can do is hope she tires of us. Or that she’s extorted enough money and goods that she wants to start afresh in another country. Your Uncle Hal seems to think Costa Rica is a great place to send wayward women. Maybe I should get her a one-way ticket for Valentines' Day?”
Roger felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw Papa Doc. “Care to let a party crasher butt in?”
“Party crasher?” Roger asked. “I asked specifically that you and Silas be invited.” His face reddened as he realized he had told Elsa. Obviously, she wanted complete control over the guest list. “Yes, as far as I’m concerned, you’re one of her grandpas. Hal told me that his invitation was a verbal from my wife. Damned Swedish tyrant!”
“Now, now, Daddy,” Vickie soothed. “Go fume somewhere else and let me dance with Papa Doc.”
Roger looked up and saw Silas had joined Rick, Dusty, and Hal near the bar, the group swapping stories as they watched the birthday girl dance. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, ceding the dance to Papa Doc.
“Good evening, Silas,” Roger said as he joined the crew. “I apologize for the invitations not reaching you and Doc.” Hal raised his hand. “And Hal, too,” he added. “My life would be so much simpler – and my blood pressure so much lower – if I could just get rid of that damned Elsa.”
Silas leaned over and whispered in Roger’s ear. “Don’t worry about it. Hal has me in the loop.” He stood up straight and looked at Rick Rickman, a face he recognized from the trade magazines. “We finally meet. I think we’ve done a little negotiating over the last few years. Silas Priest,” he said, reaching out and offering his hand.
“Priest?” Rickman repeated, obviously unfamiliar with the name but shaking hands just the same. “Silas… Oh, yes! Silas! You helped me find out about that manager who was trying to steal me blind about three, four years ago! Ah, great going. I don’t know if you ever heard the rest of the story. I was able to recover all my funds. Silly ass. He put all the cash in a safety deposit box then mailed the key to himself at the office. I was given a heads up and able to intercept it. Because it had the company name and his job title on it, I had full legal rights to take it. I kicked him to the curb and sent him on his way. No lawyers required.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like that. He thought I was doing him a favor, telling him to liquidate all his assets into cash, send them to a spot no one would suspect, and then grab it and hightail it out of the country,” Silas said, laughing as he recalled the clueless embezzler.
“Excuse me, just a minute,” Hal said, his hand on Roger to get his attention. “Did you tell Vickie Lynn to get her ears fixed?”
“Fixed?” Roger asked, then watched as his daughter danced with Papa Doc, waiting for her to turn so he could see.
“Shit! That tyrant! I’ll bet Elsa is behind that. Vickie couldn’t have had it done without an adult signing a consent form. I gave that bitch medical power of attorney when we first hired her. If something happened while they were at the park, I wanted to make sure she could receive medical treatment. Damn her eyes!”
Dusty and Hal both took a step forward, looking for Elsa. “Hold on there, guys,” Silas said, physically restraining them. “Remember. This is Vickie Lynn’s party. The deed has been done. No
undoing it now. You don’t want her to remember her sixteenth birthday party as the one…”
“Ah, crap!” Dusty said.
“Go ahead and say it, son,” Hal said, seeing the same thing that had raised Dusty’s ire.
“Ah, shit!” Dusty hissed, feeling better for losing his social filter.
The melody of Strauss’s Blue Danube fell apart as two of the string quartet moved out of the way of the skinny crone who was backing into them, under verbal attack by a very irate Grace Rhodes.
“Her ears were perfect, you bitch! How dare you make her feel bad about her image. And I heard how you’ve browbeaten her into believing she’s fat…”
Elsa picked her way around the violinist, standing behind his chair for protection from the angry godmother. “She’ll never get a good husband with those Dumbo ears and pot belly!” Elsa hissed, then moved in front of the seat, no longer afraid. The crowd would be on her side. “I was doing her a favor.”
Thunk!
Humph!
A quick punch to the gut and Elsa was bent over at the waist, the wind knocked out of her.
Grace looked around the room, suddenly aware that she had not only lost her temper but had struck out in anger. Dusty was standing next to Hal – her husband and father both wide-eyed. In a blink of an eye, they were grinning, transitioning from shock to glee at the same rate.
“Watch out!” a woman’s voice called out.
Grace heard the whoosh of a punch being thrown and stepped back in reflex.
“You bitch,” Elsa huffed with the missed blow. Still winded, the angry nanny held her hands up, ready for a boxing match, then realized the room was full of rich and influential guests. She looked up and saw that every one of them was slack-jawed in shock.
Fwap! Fwap!
“Never take your eyes off your opponent,” Grace hissed. “And if you ever touch my daughter again, I’ll gut you and use your liver for dog food.”
“Your daughter?” Elsa asked, a glimmer of inspiration sparkling her otherwise glazed eyes.
Fwap!
The final blow – an open-handed slap – sent Elsa to the ground in a pile of sequins and snot, a trickle of blood mixing with the dribble of makeup sliding off her face. Hairpiece askew, her upper plate of false teeth had slid halfway out of her mouth. A perfect picture of retribution.
