by Ruth Hay
Aylward was a keen golfer and had bought into the resort years before to permit him to golf in the sunshine in the winter months while Marian happily lazed by the pools and chatted with other snowbirds. There always seemed to be interesting people to talk to and the week flew by.
Over time, they had been persuaded to augment their interest in the Mexican company that ran the Nuevo Vallarta resort and now they had access to three weeks of leisure apartments which they rarely used. Returning to the winter sun was an idea Marian welcomed. It would be good for both of them.
The part that gave her concern was her husband’s notion to involve their children and grandchildren in this venture. She was not unaware of the tensions in the family. A few hours at Christmas made it plain that the younger members were at odds with their cousin, Portia. Terrence and Jillian’s marriage had gone through troubled times. As his mother, she could see all was not well with them. Terrence was bold and adventurous in personality, as demonstrated in his cooking talent, but Jillian had never matched his flair. She was too mousy for his tastes, she felt, but she knew it was foolish to try to figure out what drew partners together or even what pushed them apart. Jillian had never confided in her mother-in-law.
As for Megan; Marian had always had great admiration for her daughter. She was smart, well-educated, a partner in a major law firm who ran her home the same way she ran her law firm, with style and devotion to detail. Maurice, however, was a bit of a dark horse. He taught English Literature at the university level and seemed to be immersed in his research on Shakespearean contemporaries, about which subject he could be quite boring at times. Megan mentioned how many nights her husband spent on the computer delving into obscure texts and letters stored in libraries in France and Italy.
Privately, Marian thought neither parent spent enough time with their only child. Portia was burdened with that awful name to start with. Her schoolmates had labelled her ‘Portly’ or other obscure diminutives that seemed hilarious to children and never to the recipient. It had made the child withdraw from friendship even when it was offered, and this tendency had caused her to seem snooty and disdainful of her cousins when what the poor child wanted was friendly company.
All that was established years before, but the lingering results had been maintained even into the present, despite the adult lives all of them now lived. Portia had a job as an art designer for a textiles company. She was the only female in an all-male department and this had further separated her from friendships. Marian had never heard her talk of meeting workmates after the work day for cocktails or gossip. Everything Portia chose to do, appeared to make her situation worse.
She sighed deeply. Going over the worries she had about her family did not help matters much. There was little she could do other than worry. Perhaps Aylward’s idea to take them for a holiday could help to solve some of these present, or potential, problems. He was not a foolish man by any means. Although he had not explained his purpose to her in any detail, she did not doubt he had a purpose in mind.
He rarely did anything without a purpose, even at this advanced age. It would be better to leave it up to him and she would take the role of peacemaker; a role with which she was most familiar.
Marian Beck sipped the last of her tea and filled the kettle again for a hot cup to take to her husband in the den. After that, she would change her clothes and settle upstairs in her bedroom to watch some of the TV serial she was following. She had no immediate demands on her time. Today the meal delivery company would bring healthy, frozen meals for the next five days. She had only to re-schedule one of the massage therapy girls who was on vacation for a week, then she could sit back and relax.
* * *
Aylward Beck nodded his head as his wife set down another cup of tea and removed the previous one, still half-full. He glanced to the side and noticed her outfit. He deduced she had been to the bank again.
He would check on the balance as soon as he had finished with the response to those dimwits at the Psychiatric Institute of Boston who were still pursuing methodologies he had dismissed as futile more than two decades ago.
Returning to the business of finances was a more pertinent concern for the time being. He had more money than he would ever use. If he should depart this mortal coil ahead of Marian, which seemed highly likely given his advanced age, there would still be a vast estate to be disposed of among his surviving family members. He had toyed with the idea of distributing his accumulated wealth evenly among his descendants but that seemed the easy way out and he was not convinced the younger generation would handle money well. There was always the option of donating to a worthy charity but which charity fell under that heading? These days there was so much downright thievery even among the institutions one would expect to be above such behaviour. He had pursued a lifetime habit of donating to appeals with which he had a personal connection. If he could look in the face of a manager or board member, he knew whether or not that person would countenance underhanded practices.
So, a portion might be set aside for charities. What about the rest? He had deliberated over this question for several years.
Marian’s welfare was assured no matter what happened to him. That was cast in stone. When he considered their two children the picture was not so clear. Megan was earning plenty of money and had security in her law firm partnership. He was fairly confident she could handle a large sum of cash without spinning out of control. He had some concerns about her husband, however. Maurice Anderson claimed more intellectual prowess than he actually possessed. Their discussions revealed a lack of true scholarship despite his position in the university. As a professor himself, Aylward Beck knew the mental capacities required for stringent research. Maurice had not yet produced the volume about Shakespearean contemporaries about which he often spoke. There was something wrong with that picture and that suspicion warned Aylward to be cautious regarding Megan’s possible inheritance; a substantial amount of money, to which Maurice would, inevitably, have access.
On the other hand, there was the disturbing scenario with Jillian and Terrence. He had always been disappointed that his son had not shown more inclination in the area of intellectual pursuits. The boy had not performed well at school in spite of tutors and re-sits and coaching of all kinds. He was more interested in sports at first, and then he had hooked up with a friend who wanted to travel to France to study cordon bleu cooking style. That gap year had changed Terrence. His focus was set on owning a restaurant and bringing French standards to North American cuisine. It was too late now to divert his path and his wife, Jillian, was no help. She seemed to be harried all the time. With three children, a job, and a husband who earned little initially, there was small chance she could inspire Terrence to meet his potential.
As for those grandchildren of his ………………… it was difficult to understand what they were about. Society had changed so much since his time as a father. Being a grandfather was a role he had neglected. Dumping money on four young people he hardly knew seemed irresponsible at best.
Aylward Beck, Professor Emeritus, realized he had to do something to help solve his dilemma.
Out of that realization had emerged the idea of a week in Mexico; a week when he could investigate how best to apply his largesse. Seven days to delve into the minds of his family members and determine how to build their future lives in a positive way.
It was almost like reverting to the years he had spent with his patients. Psychotherapy was based on the skill of listening. He could apply his many skills in that area and reach useful conclusions. The thought pleased him. He might be old but he was not done yet. This could be one of the most meaningful tasks he could take on for the benefit of future generations of Becks.
Money was said to be the root of all evil. He wanted to assure the money he had to dispense would create only good results. As a thinking man, as a father and grandfather, he had to take on this important challenge before it was too late.
Chapter 3
Jillian Beck closed the door to her tiny office above the grocery store’s main level. From here she could keep an eye on the general progress below and hope to prevent any crisis from developing. In the weeks before Christmas it was essential that the store ran smoothly as their profits would provide a cushion during the winter months ahead. So far the weather had been reasonably mild and local customers kept coming. She let out a deep sigh. She badly needed a few minutes to deal with another issue separate from her job’s many concerns.
She had reported back to her mother-in-law that all was settled for the week in Mexico. In fact, that was far from the truth. She had booked off a week’s holiday with the store in February and checked with Louise that it corresponded to her college’s reading week. Terry had not deigned to confirm that he would be able to leave the restaurant at that time, nor had Abigail given any indication that she was on board with the idea. Devon was the only one of the family who seemed keen to go.
Jillian hesitated to get in touch with Megan to ask if they were finding it difficult to sort out the time required. Her sister-in-law was such a high-powered lawyer that getting through to her on the phone was a major undertaking and Jillian always felt like she was intruding on some desperately important life-and-death legal event. For Megan to leave her clients for a whole week seemed unlikely, but as she was the favoured daughter of the Beck family it might be hard for her to refuse their request. In any case, it was clear Megan’s husband was on the same university schedule as Louise so he would have the time off and that left Portia to join the undecided group. Surely the girl could do some useful design work in Mexico for a week?
As she scanned the crowd at the bakery counter in the north-west corner of the store to see if the fresh bread was ready for purchase, she was making a list of what she could do in this busy month to persuade her husband and two daughters to enter into this family holiday with some enthusiasm.
Looking down at the store’s seasonal decorations it occurred to her that she could add some incentive by buying gifts for her family to encourage their interest. Normally, she and Terry gave cheques to the children for Christmas but this year she could order fancy swimwear online for her daughters and buy beach sandals and swim shorts for Terry and Devon. She wrote this down then took a moment to imagine walking on the beach with Terry, in the sunshine, relaxed and happy with no money worries to bother them. She tried to conjure up the last time they had felt comfortable together on holiday and decided it was so long ago that it was mad to think it could happen nowadays. Their contact recently consisted of grunts and complaints and sidelong glances to judge the effect of the latest skirmish in the war of words.
How did it get to this point?
If she was honest with herself, the tension had started before Louise was born. Terry had not wanted a third child. Jillian got this news when she was already four months pregnant. Two surprises in the one day. She had returned from the doctor’s office with the happy news only to see the shock and dismay on her husband’s face. His statement still rang in her ears.
“It’s just such terrible timing, Jill. The only new baby I want at this moment is the restaurant I am attempting to open next year. We simply can’t afford this!”
He had stormed out of the room leaving her shaking and tearful. By the time he had realized how hurtful his comments had been, it was too late. The damage was done. Six weeks after Louise arrived, Jillian found work in the grocery store. She was determined never again to hear her husband blame her for his lack of opportunities. The restaurant was opened eventually, but by then she had made her way up the management ladder and the children were almost grown.
In her heart of hearts she knew nothing had ever been the same since then. Family life was altered when the mother was not home to cook meals and ask about school work. Two parents on different schedules made for missed appointments and frequent confusion.
The children had adjusted fairly quickly. Their friends had working parents so they knew the score, but Jillian resented the demands of running a new restaurant and Terry refused to be available to fill in for his wife when she was working overtime during stocktaking weeks. There were occasional periods when it seemed they could return to a happier atmosphere but those never lasted long enough to establish better routines and attitudes. They still shared a bed but it was rare when both lay down at the same time. There might as well have been the Grand Canyon between them.
A tear trickled down Jillian’s cheek and landed on the gift list. It brought her back to the present moment. What would she give herself for Christmas? What might make the coming Mexican holiday more attractive for her? She glanced in the small mirror set on a shelf to the side of her desk. It was there to remind her to set a good example of tidiness whenever she went down to the shop floor to check on something. What she saw reflected there was not very appealing. It wasn’t only that her example was not very convincing at work. The appearance she produced at home was not one bit better than the untidy hair and blotchy face she saw in the mirror. She automatically tucked in a strand of greasy hair that always seemed to escape her attempts to confine it with pins and an elastic band.
Her hair had always been a problem and she had done nothing to solve it in the last five years. She really needed to get it professionally straightened. The curls were unruly at best and if not tied back in some way, they sprang from her head as much like an early Shirley Temple as anything. Not a good look for a mature woman. She had grown the curls out in hopes the added length would pull the ringlets down and perform the straightening she wanted without the bother and expense of paying for it. There was no denying it had not worked.
Was that grey hair at her temples? She peered into the mirror and wiped the finger smudges with her sleeve but the grey did not disappear. She could hardly go on a luxury holiday competing with the elegant Megan whose hair never dared to move from its appointed position in a neat bob that perfectly suited her austere style.
“Oh, hell!”
Jillian decided she would treat herself to a salon visit over the holidays. She might even splurge on a facial and a massage. Heaven knew she deserved a little comfort in her frantic life.
If she looked better it would be easier to tackle the complaints she would get from her daughters, not to mention Terry, when she broached once again, the topic of the family holiday in Mexico.
The loud knock on her door startled her from her musing and she jumped up to answer. Shane from the meat department stood there in his white apron and cap. His expression signalled trouble before he opened his mouth.
“Sorry, Mrs. Beck but that order of turkeys from the supplier ain’t arrived yet. I’ve got four left in the display and six frozen in the back. Those won’t be enough for the orders we have right now and there’ll be a riot if folks don’t get their birds in time.”
“I’ll see to it immediately, Shane. Take the frozen birds out now and fill up the display. I’ll call the nearest store in the chain and see if they have any spares they can send us. If anyone complains, give them a package of sausages for free and promise we’ll call them as soon as we can meet their order.”
“Right you are, Mrs. Beck. I knew you would have a good idea. Thanks.”
Shane tipped his cap to her as he went toward the stairs. She took a deep breath. It was nice to be appreciated once in a while even if it was not her family who were doing the appreciating.
Chapter 4
She scribbled a quick note on her desk writing pad. She would make that salon appointment. She deserved a little pampering.
* * *
“What do you mean you haven’t done the red wine reduction yet? It should have been started before the meat came out. How long have you worked in this kitchen? Haven’t you learned anything about timing yet? Stupid girl! Get one of the boys to help you. Go!”
There was a sudden hush in the kitchen as all work stopped. The vegetables steaming in the double boiler could be heard but all the norma
l cooking sounds had ceased.
Terrence Beck knew he had stepped over a line when he spoke to his staff in such a disrespectful way.
It was purely a reaction to the tension he felt. The restaurant was aiming for their first Michelin star and any one of the patrons they were serving tonight could be the one who would decide on the fate of the business. Everything had to be perfect. It was all about timing.
He turned away and stomped out of the kitchens. She would probably quit now and who would blame the girl? He was strung out but there was no excuse for yelling at staff that way. They were supposed to be a team. When a crisis arose in the kitchen, as always seemed to happen at the busiest times, it was essential that his team could work together to solve problems. Any staff person who was yelled at, lacked the initiative to find creative answers to problems. He knew it. He taught them that, and yet he had broken his own rules today in the hearing of the entire team. It was not good enough and he knew that too. It was too late to go back and apologize. The damage was done.
He escaped into the washroom to gather his thoughts. Things would have to change. He looked at his face in the mirror over the sink. He could see the lines of strain between his eyes and around his mouth.
The way he was heading now would lead to the loss of the restaurant. It was operating on a narrow line of profit. One small thing could mean disaster. Lack of staff, poor ingredients, bad service, less-than-spotless facilities, any one of them could bring his dream crashing down around his shoulders.
