[K][T] and Family Ch. 03

As fine as the house was, the highlight of the tour was the back grounds. Who does not love a circus? With the carousel proudly in the center, our little fair needed no explanation. I was about to start pointing things out, when the sound of our one lung motor filled the air. I explained that it was a hundred year old diesel, which we were using to churn ice cream. That received as much attention as anything on the tour.

Sheila:

My vigil and three hours of sleep had me charged up and lively. Showing pictures of my nude self would normally have been problematic at best, traumatic at worst. In the past, I would assume a role to do something difficult. Mistress Cynthia has a multitude of uses. For that press conference, I needed no special role. I told myself to reveal this information—so I did. It could not have worked better.

The sticking point could have been Francis Costello. I had avoided him for years, simply because he was too perceptive. He saw and understood the story I was telling, as opposed to the story everyone else was seeing. He was like Richard Dysart in Being There—the only one who accepted the facts at face value. We exchanged a nod of recognition as everyone moved out to the cars.

Seeing my studio was bittersweet. Gerald says he enjoys working with professionals, because he is one himself. I did not know in advance what the conditions would be. It was a good thing, because Claudia Johnson watched me like a hawk circling a rabbit hutch. She could tell that I was also seeing things for the first time. Oddly, my stretching bar had been left, which touched me in odd ways.

There was a long line of people, but I did not linger. Instead, I went back to the front. Somehow the gym also felt different, though nothing physical had changed. It took some time to work through, but I realized that this chapter of my life was also closing. Richard, or someone else, would take over the reins on this side of the wall. The irony was rich. For Richard, the studio and the gym would be miles apart.

Presently, Sean brought the tour back to me. Winifred Smith asked why I was wistful. I told her, "When you learn something important it hurts, because part of your innocence has died. I learned that XTreme Fitness was no longer my second home." The whole tour was being video recorded, but that was the sound bite. You would not believe the number of times I have seen it. One of Sean's companies bought the copyright, so they could put it on plaques and things. My favorite was the YouTube spot that ran the recording opposite How Jones calling me an airhead bimbo. I am not saying it forced him to leave town, but he did go.

When Sean was finished fussing with the tour, we headed to the Residence, where another tour awaited us. At least I would have more backup. I should have expected that the house tour was more about the bride, that would be me, than about the house. As much as I tried to focus on the house, attention kept returning to me. Frank Costello earned a (another) gold star by asking one wannabe reporter, "She danced Lincoln Center at 14. What do you want?" Fortunately the house and grounds were able to attract some attention, as were the people doing the work. Siobhan later went into politics. This was her first time to shine in front of the press.

For me, the afternoon as a death march. Sean was conspicuously absent. I learned to hate reporters and their insipid, repetitive questions. Their personal foibles would have earned strict remonstration from Mistress Cynthia. I kept her silent, but with difficulty. If Siobhan had not been there to absorb some of the heat, I might have gone off. Instead, I survived to fight another day.

When the ordeal wound down, I was able to leave the balance in Siobhan's hands and slip away. She made me proud. Siobhan had perfected a Dr. Richards mode, tall, straight and straight. If Lars Gunter did not bear fruit, I suspected that some other physically imposing male would attract her interest. However, I had hopes for Lars. He had seen her as a neophyte and in a pressured situation. His interest came pre-vetted. Siobhan had been interesting before the makeover, but she would not have had the confidence to deal with the attention.

Such are the thoughts just before a curtain rises.

Chapter 12—Rehearsal

Interlude: 25th Anniversary

Cindy:

Dad has been running a business since he was my age. It was much smaller then, but that tells you how good he was. For the rehearsal dinner, he requested the catering division's best chef come out to the house and do a dinner. That caused a bit of a stir, rather like the golden apple in Troy. The result was sort of Top Chef, a dozen years before the show debuted. They still do it every fourth year. Last year the prize was a trip to Fiji.

< i>That first year, no one warned the chefs about Aunt Francine.

Siobhan:

The whole press tour was a prelude to the rehearsal. When Sean ended it, there was good natured grumbling, but I could tell that most of the reporters were itching for a keyboard. As the press was leaving, our people started showing up. Francine had her escort had joined Jason and Christine. Sean returned from wherever he had been. Last to arrive was a minister I did not recognize—Pastor Mueller. Everyone assembled on the drive, then we trouped down to the lake.

My last wedding rehearsal had been just after High school, so I forgot picky they could be. We spent more time letting Justin arrange the photography than everything else combined. His makeshift reflectors were quite efficient, effectively putting whole front of the houseboat was in sunlight, but none for the bride. There was a lot of discussion about how to put a spot reflector on Sheila. In contrast, Francine's people had covered the sound so well it never came up.

A lot of details needed to be adjusted, but the pattern for the service was set. The service itself was straight out of the hymnal, or rather an period hymnal. The required minor disaster came from the music. At the wedding, the orchestra would be playing from the portico, near the Ballroom. Since there were no musicians, we had a boombox to play recordings. No one thought to load the thing with batteries. Everyone had a laugh.

After we finished walking through the process, Sean kissed Sheila possessively. That signaled the end of the rehearsal. I went to talk to our cheering section. There was a nice collection of people watching the show. Several Amish, divided by both age and sex were on the boathouse side. My grad students, less Evaine, were next to the gazebo. The brothers Gilbert and their staffs strung along the back. In all, it was a nice crowd.

All things end. Sean and Sheila escorted the minister and remaining reporters back to their transportation. The staff went home. Justin and Michael got involved in details of positioning the boat and reflectors. Mitchell took my grad students into the house to get them settled. I collected Francine and her date, Jason and Christine. We all went to the Dining Room.

The old house had the Ballroom, which served as the dining hall, but there was also a pantry kitchen and family dining room. The addition had a modern kitchen and a Dining Room, which could seat as many as twenty. No one had used the kitchen for anything but storage for years. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time anyone used the rooms for anything like a formal dinner. I never understood why it was there, but I was soon glad it was part of the design.

I knew something was up the minute I turned down the hall. The aromas were incredible—cooking meat and mushrooms, garlic and elusive sweeter scents. Rick Williams greeted us at the door and directed us to seats. Shortly we were joined by Curtis Albrecht and his wife, Donna. I had met Curtis a couple of times, but never his wife. We took turns introducing the others. With some effort, I managed to remember that Francine's escort was named Roxanna. I suspect Francine brought her because she lacked other options. Last to arrive were the bride and groom. We all stood. Sheila blushed.

Dinner was amazing. Someone had suggested a competition among the cooks in Events. I was wearing the corset, though not laced tight. Tuesday night had shown me how fast I would fill up. So I sampled and picked, which was a new experience. Because I was careful early, I was able to get a good taste of everything I was served.

For dessert we each received a small bowl of freshly churned ice cream, with finger food on the table. Once everyone had tasted the ice cream, coffee and brandy followed. Good coffee and VSOP brandy. It was a great setting to cheer the chefs. Sean bumped the prize up by a night on the Town. More applause. I stood and toasted the bride and groom. Sean kissed Sheila as a camera flashed. Justin Immons was standing in the kitchen door.

I could see why Sheila usually wanted to strangle Justin, but the article in Gourmet was worth it. After the wedding I talked to Justin about shooting the chef's competition. He had simply shown up and started making shots. No one had even suggested a photographer, but Justin could not resist the drama. The candid shots of the chefs were excellent, but the closeups of plated food were truly outstanding. For the catalog, Justin spent almost two days lighting and shooting a 17th century letter. His core interest was in tableaus. I told him that he should consider food photography. He could travel less and the demand was booming.

There was a fuss while Sheila ran Justin off, which was an interesting scene. Justin knew that Sheila was Cynthia, though not everyone in the room did. He was baited Sheila, hoping for a heavier whipping. This would not end well for him. Sheila knew what Justin wanted—and what he avoided. She leaned close and whispered in his ear. Justin went pale and rushed off without his kit.

Once the door shut, Sean rang his water glass.

Sean:

A wedding ceremony on a boat required some thinking. We had no way to walk the bride down an aisle. A suggestion that she ride standing on a paddle boat was quickly shot down. Justin suggested a spot light, which was more or less what we settled on. From the beginning, one of our big questions had to do with lighting. Between Justin and Francine's theater people, we had a lot of lighting expertise on tap. They arranged a bank of reflectors which illuminated the front of the boat.

Justin suggested making an large aimable reflector. He had a small one, which he used for illustration. Properly adjusted, it shown to the back of the boat. Sheila said that it was bright, but she could handle the glare. Justin promised to work on something larger, but more diffuse. Details would be exacting, but it was doable.

Once that was covered, Pastor Mueller walked us through the traditional service. Sheila was trembling when I took her hand—stage fright I think. After we walked through the vows, I was able to kiss my fiancée. It was a mistake. It had been a stressful afternoon and neither of us wanted to stop. Duty called, so we returned to our guests and finished the details. The rest of the wedding party adjourned to the Dining Room. As man of the house, I needed to escort the last two reporters to their rides. Sheila waited at the steps.

Since both of these men competent, I wondered how much wool was over their eyes. I said, "Randall, Frank, I am pleased to have you covering this affair. Sheila would prefer a quiet wedding, but events dictated otherwise. The best we can hope for is friendly coverage. Lord knows we have seen the other kind. Thanks for coming today. I hope you enjoy the party on Saturday." Pay your money and take your chance.

Randall Wilson spoke first. "Sean, it has been and will be a privilege. Unique Bride was created to cover weddings like this. That is quite a woman you have there. I commend you for snapping her up." Frank Costello agreed, "A couple of this town's most persistent mysteries were set to rest today. I am pleased to be the one covering them. I hope Cynthia enjoys her retirement." Blood drained from my face until he winked. I coughed a laugh. It never hurts to have a friend in the local media.

They drove off and I escorted Sheila to the formal dining room. I never understood why my grandfather had built the new wing with a large kitchen and formal dining room. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time it was ever used. When my mother entertained, she would rent someplace in town. So, I was stepping into unfamiliar territory when I sat down. That was just the first new experience.

The table sat twelve and could be extended. That made it too large. Normally these dinners have a lot of family, but the only family in attendance was Jo, who did not bring a date. Francine brought a girl named Roxanna, who was clearly not a romantic interest. Curtis brought his wife and CC brought Jason. Nine people in all. For that small group, we had three chefs, Rick Williams as MC and judge, and three servers. I learned there was a contest when Rick announced it to the room.

The first course was an appetizer. We each received a plate of three, except Francine. She received two of each. I later discovered that George was expected, so the chefs prepared ten of each, plus one for the judge. The second course was cold soups, served in champagne flutes. The colors were interesting: red, green and white. The next plates was three renditions of cheese ravioli and sauce, also red, green and white. Rick later told me that the chefs had drawn their theme colors from a hat.

For the main course, we were asked a preference of beef, chicken and pork. Jo chose pork, Sheila chose chicken, of course and I chose the beef, which was fixed Wellington. Choice of meat had also been drawn. My Wellington was outstanding, with a flaky crust and earthy mushroom stuffing. Rick said the chef was British. Go figure.

Dessert was the first batch of ice cream from the my freezer. I was pleased. On a warm spring day, people will eat any sort of ice cream, but this was not out of place with the meal just finished. I stood toasted our chefs, Rick Williams and the person who suggested a competition—I never did discover who it had been.

In appreciation, I awarded them each a trip to the New York restaurant of their choice. The winner would get a night at the Plaza and tickets to a Broadway show, in addition to whatever else they were promised. This was well received. Sheila topped me by walking up to each of them and kissing their cheek. That's my Kitten. Not to be left out, Jo raised her glass and toasted the bride and groom. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to kiss my fiancée, so I did. Everyone cheered.

Some nights it is good to be alive.

Sheila:

Eventually, all the escorting and of that ended, but it was only a prelude to the rehearsal. There, for the first time that day, I was pleasantly surprised. For one thing, I could stand and watch other people work. Secondly, I was surrounded by my people. Having been away from them, I realized how much Christine, Siobhan, Francine, even Jason and Justin were each a part of my life. Three weeks ago, none of them were even on the horizon, much less Sean. Not all change is bad, even if it can be stressful.

When the rehearsal was over and the minster seen off, Sean took me to a part of the new house I had not yet seen. It was a modern formal dining room, with a kitchen to match. There I was introduced to Francine's guest, Roxanna, and Curtis' wife Donna. We were seated at a table set for ten. Siobhan did not have a date, which might account for the extra place.

There was little ceremony. Rick Williams informed us that dinner was the product of a cooking contest. We would be eating the entries. He cautioned us to go slowly, since there would be several courses. Francine promptly popped out of her seat and grabbed the extra plate, which loosened things nicely.

I was impressed. My diet is simple. When I eat restaurant food, it is for my clients. None of the local restaurants had food like this. In succession we received a trio of appetizers, then cold soups, then hand made ravioli in sauce. It was all delicious and beautiful. For the main course, I chose chicken. Typically, Sean had beef. Siobhan and Christine both ordered pork, but Christine gave hers to Francine, who then had all three.

My chicken was excellent, as were the roasted sweet potatoes, but the star was the frozen pea salad. I made a mental note to get the recipe. Better yet, I should get the cook. We needed a staff and a cook would be part of that. As I ate, I also fed Christine, who was seated on my right. Francine ate all three plates and called for seconds.

After the meal, they brought samples of Sean's experiment. He had decided that an ice cream churn was the perfect match for a warm spring day. With due ceremony, he tasted of the first batch. It was over the top, but everyone had fun. We cheered the cooks. Sean added a nice bonus for playing and a big prize for winning. We kissed, which drew Justin and his camera out of the woodwork. He tried to laugh it off by offering to take a whipping. I told him that I thought ice water and candle wax was more appropriate. Justin scurried away.

Justin's departure left only the six of us and our guests. Sean stood and rang his glass. I thought I knew what was coming and steeled myself for it. It was such a relief to be wrong. He toasted everyone else. Curtis stood and told some stories about Sean. All were new to me, but none were surprising. Then Christine stood, followed by Jason, who acted as interpreter. She wanted to thank Francine, Siobhan and I for the trip to the City. She thanked Sean for his business card, which received a nice laugh. She did not thank me. Instead, she waved for Jason to sit. She looked at me and spoke my married name.

After that, we talked of the final preparations. We four were going back into the City, though not Brooklyn. Francine was taking us to the bowels of the city, near the garment district. Naturally, we needed to go through Elizabeth, to pick up my corset. Siobhan asked Francine to take her back to the warehouse and show her what to look for. Whatever else Francine is in this life, she is a teacher first, so she assigned Siobhan some homework.

At home, Sean had to nail down what he could prior to a week's absence. That likely meant signing a contract with the Columbia pictures. Francine took this opportunity to present her plus one. Roxanna DeWinter had experience as a receptionist in Hollywood, which would be handy for such things. Francine glanced at Christine, so I did as well. Christine shrugged. I looked at Sean. He nodded. Roxanna was hired, provisionally, as my receptionist. I would let her use my apartment for a while. Throwing her to the media would be good practice and also provide Cynthia more cover.

Siobhan ran through a list of things which needed to be finished. Sean was holding his phone out, presumably in dictation mode. I asked how the Amish were doing and Evaine with them. That brought me a smile. Siobhan was well satisfied on both counts. All the temp help would be off Friday, since the Amish were having a social day. This meant that most of the booths were already finished, or that the Amish were committed to clean them before the wedding.

As for Evaine, Sean had said he wanted to deal with marriage proposals. That may have been partly in jest, but at least three unattached young men were competing for her attention. I suggested that Evaine and Sean could serve as contacts for Amish when they went on their Rumspringa, the time away from the community. This was well received. Siobhan felt that something long term could be set up, possibly through the University. It would serve the Amish community and provide a communications conduit with the world outside.