[K][T] and Family Ch. 01

I was a bit at a loss. On one hand, the house was familiar ground, but the familiarity was years out of date. It was time to gather information, which meant doing the dance with Gerald. The thought made me smile. Dancing with Gerald was not nearly as scary as it once had been. In fact, rather than dance around security, I was willing to partner with him. I pulled out my phone.

To give him his due, Gerald did not ask the obvious question, which was why I wanted to know about Sheila's recent movements. He simply gave me a status report. I then informed him that I intended to invade her space a little, starting with the bags she had left in the car. Gerald's only reply was, "Yes, ma'am."

Next, I found Mitchell. I asked for the best he could provide as a lady's maid. Like Gerald, this came as no surprise. I told him to round up all of Sheila's clothing, except her costumes, and get them cleaned and pressed. What is the point of having on-site services, if you never use them? Then, I went in Sean's sanctum sanctorum. As I expected, Sean had turned Mother's boudoir into a guy pad, with no thought for the new female in his life.

I may not be a debutant, but I can hum the tune. Mother had acres of closet space somewhere. I just needed to find it. Sure enough, the walk in closet-and-powder was being used for storage. There were racks for 200 pairs of shoes—and no shoes in them. Once again I contacted Mitchell and Gerald. Mitchell would get the space cleared. Gerald's people knew where Sheila's shoe collection had been dropped.

Once that project was underway, I went to find Evaine. Since she was going to be with the Amish, I gave my clothing a minute of thought. Weird, huh? I was not going to wear a dress or skirt, so work clothes were probably my best option. Other than the fancy things from Elizabeth, my clothes were intentionally damaged. The top I was wearing was the plainest piece I had. My hair I could put up easily enough. Funny. For once, I think about how I look, but I find nothing to fix. Almost nothing.

I needed a man for this negotiation, so I had Mitchell accompany me. The Amish were located in the front corner of the property, opposite the lake. There were several tents put out, the largest was being used as a stable. All of the horses had been unhooked from the buggies. Several boys were removing tack and currying the horses. The young men were unloading luggage and other personal items. Things looked as propitious as they were likely to get.

I nodded to Mitchell. He sought out a ranking man to make introductions. I was introduced as the land owners younger sister, which produced several nods. Mitchell then said that I was overseeing the preparations for the wedding. More nods. Then he requested that I be introduced to the senior wives. Naturally, they were standing right in front of me, but forms must be served. Mother Lapp was introduced. I said that I wished to conduct them around the house and grounds. More nods. I suggested bringing a couple of boys to serve as runners. This met with not only nods, but a shred of approval.

I suggested that Mitchell show the men the manly things, particularly Grandfather's boat. The group parted like oil from vinegar. Mitchell soon walked off with three of the men. I followed with a group of ladies and Evaine Schaeffelker. I knew she had not brought Amish attire, but Evaine was wearing it now. I wanted her to go native. So far she seemed to be doing quite well.

The easiest way into the house was through the new wing, but I wanted to avoid that. We walked around to the main entrance. There was nothing to see yet, but the layout would be familiar. With my finger, I traced the line of the drive, from the gate to the entrance, then to the turnaround and back out the gate. Easy peasy. Then we went inside.

The Foyer was going to serve as the bar, so I told the women, "Alcohol. Kinder verboten." I pointed to the cloak room and said, "Hats." miming a top hat. This caused a bit of confusion, but Evaine supplied the correct term. From there we went quickly through the smoking parlor, the small parlor/bride's ready room and the Library. The collection of books caused much comment. I told them that some books had been in the family over 250 years. This impressed them, since their own community was not that old.

We went to the Ballroom, which was a hive of activity. The main floor waxing had been done the night before, so everything had been removed. Now ladders were everywhere, to hang decorations, clean fixtures and who knows what else. At one end, an orchestra pit was being constructed. I led the group to the door to the kitchen, but it was locked. Fine. We trooped back into the hall and went in the other entrance.

The kitchen was dim and musty, but recently cleaned. Plates and glassware covered the counters. Some of the ladies started talk about that, but Mother Lapp went straight to the wood stove. Shortly, several of the ladies were poking and peering. Presently, Mother Lapp stood upright. I asked, "Ist gut?" Her head was already nodding before her natural defense kicked into gear. I allowed a slight smile. I said, "It may be that it will find it's way into your Kirke. Who can say?" This brought several startled looks. Once again I said, "Who can say?"

I turned to the door. "Comen Sie mit mir, bitte." Now that I had their full attention, I was going to show them the rooms that were not available. I led them up the stairs to the residential floor. This floor had received a quick sweeping, but not the scrubbing the main floor had undergone. The hall was full of mutters as I stopped in front of my childhood room. This was getting to the limit of my German. "Mien Zimmer, as child, kind." I waved my hand in front of the door. The ladies all nodded.

Down the hallway, I said, "Mein Grossvater und Grossmutter." Again with the hands. Again the nods. I went to a door we had passed. "Diese Zimmer, mine Bruder, George, California. This you may use." I had not seen the room in well over a decade. When I was small, George was very protective of it. When he went away to Cal Tech, I snooped, but it was not the same. It was not George's room anymore. He had picked it bare of anything personal, meaning Star Wars and Babylon 5 posters and his electronic equipment. It suddenly occurred to me that Sheila was geeky enough to appeal to George. I must have smiled, because the ladies looked at me oddly.

Rather than explain, I walked back into the hallway. I indicated the other three rooms were available. I checked the maid's closet. There was still an ancient bucket and mop and various brushes and such. I was doubtful, but I waved a hand at them. The linen closet still held linens. These I offered with better confidence. Then I took them to the servant's level. I waved my hand at the entire hall. There were a dozen rooms up there, which had been mostly empty for almost a century. Henry Ford had killed the servant's floor.

The Amish women were thinking along the same lines. Finally, Mother Lapp waved a younger woman forward. "Why are these rooms empty? Why have they been empty so long?" I felt Doctor Richards descend on me, but that was just as well. There was a paper in this, so I might as well write it. Evaine could give the Amish reaction for co-credit. With that in mind, "Fraulein Schaeffelker, any thoughts?"

Evaine had been the picture of modesty. However, being called on in class was nothing new. She said, "Ja, Frau Doktor. I..." She had no chance to complete the sentence. The reaction to my title cut her off. I simply stood straight and waited for silence. When it came close, I said, "Ja. Ich bin Doktor Richards. Mein Bruder, George, ist Herr Doktor. Mein Bruder, Sean, ist Mister Richards, but is considered much more important. Fraulein, you were saying..."

Evaine was trying hard not to smile. That had been her idea of a joke. It was one I was willing to let her have, but I was not going to warn her about Sheila. Serve her right. It must have shown in my face because the ladies all looked interested and Evaine looked less confident. Good enough. "Fraulein?"

Evaine abandoned any pretense at German. "There are three reasons that occur quickly. The most obvious is that your family no longer has servants. You hire employees, but they return home at night. Second is the modern wing. I imagine that is where you are staying, rather than the room downstairs." Evaine looked a query and I nodded. "The third is that the nature of your affairs is no longer centered here at the manor, but in town."

When Evaine finished speaking, the ladies looked to me. I said, "Good. I would say rather that there was a period, during the middle part of the 20^th century, where such things fell out of favor. You may have noticed that my bother's fiancée wishes to claim the space for its craftsmanship. She is a lover of things well made and enduring."

I did not think anything of it at the time, but the phrase "well made and enduring" would resonate in the coming days.

Chapter 3—Indian Country

Interlude: 25^thAnniversary

Cindy:

The stories of the week before the wedding get strange at mid-week. Aunt JO continues to talk about the preparations. That was when the Amish moved in. Aunt Francine flew across the country—twice. Mom and Dad spent the time getting Mom set up in her new position. It had to be done in a hurry, because Mom's first movie job was already waiting.

I always wondered how much Aunt Francine had to do with that. She says nothing. Dad says a great deal. Mom shrugs, as if everyone gets calls to save a major motion picture. I've seen it. Mom says she just pointed out how to use the highlighter. Hello. The highlighter makes it possible to follow the action. It must have been confusing as, um, confusing without it.

Francine:

Damn Siobhan and her too perceptive mind. It was bad enough having Sheila talking about having a baby right away. Since Jo Jo had pointed out that I wanted a child, I could not get the thought out of my head. I had owned a dual breast pump for ten years, but I had to face the fact that I was thirty four and not getting younger. So, there I was at four in the morning, somewhere over middle America, thinking about specifics. The problem was that Sheila had taken the most obvious sperm donor off the market.

California is both more than everyone imagines and far less. The prices and inconvenience are far worse than any sane person would believe. The opportunities, both business and artistic, are greatly exaggerated. Yet, I was going to buy a home out here, so I could pursue the business and artistic opportunities. At least I could afford to pay cash.

One of the nice things about owning a movie company is that there are always accommodations available, in case of need. Artists stay in too many hotels, so a house is much preferred. At the moment, it took the form of a bungalow in Palm Springs. It would do for a couple of days, but it was both too small and too large. It was more space than I wanted to maintain, but it was not large enough to entertain. On the other hand, the location was excellent for my purposes. I made a note to look nearby.

Since I was flying west, I would gain three hours. When I arrived at LAX, local time was earlier than when I left Philly. I told my driver to take me where dealers made deals over breakfast. He found this confusing. I told him to find me a restaurant, that served breakfast, close to one of the studios. That he could do. We wound up at a place called Ramon's. Despite the name, it served traditional Midwestern American food. I ordered an omelet and a truckers breakfast, plus a carafe of coffee, and hoped for the best. I did not expect much, so I was not disappointed when all I got was autograph seekers.

It was 9:30 local time when I made it into the office. I could have come straight from LAX, because the office has a 24 hour live phone set up. However, before normal hours, the receptionist was the only person on site, not counting security, which covered the whole building. Yes, I owned a chunk of the building, but ordering Security around is heavy handed. It works better if you allow your people to at least try to present a good face.

That said, I was not impressed. My car and driver were an open book. At least one of my senior people should have contacted me before I arrived and all of them should have met me at the door. Instead I was greeted by a perky bottle blond named Roxanna. If she was having carnal relations with anyone in the office, both of, all of, the parties would be unemployed.

I walked up to Roxanna's desk. I spoke very clearly, because my phone was set to record. "Roxanna, I need to talk to Richard and John. They should both be here. Where are we set up?" Roxanna licked her lips, which was a dead give away. She was an aspiring actor who was not up to her part. Oh well. She might be able to deal with her next audition better than the one she just flunked. That still left the question of who else would be fired.

While this was running through my head, Roxie remembered her lines. "Excuse me, but Mr. Williams and Mr. Thomas are not in. Mr. Williams is not expected today. Mr. Thomas should be in after lunch, but his afternoon is booked. I can take a message, but I am afraid I cannot allow you to wait." It was worse than I thought.

On the off chance that one of them was just incompetent, I continued in the role. "My name is Francine Martel. Did they leave any messages? I sent them word I was coming." That brought a reaction. My name was familiar. The next words out of her mouth would tell me a great deal. For one thing, Roxie clearly understood that the sewage was deep. If she decided to come clean I might let her keep a job. I found myself wishing I had a Deirdre Walters to act as hatchet man, so to speak. I reached a decision.

Sliding up close, I lowered my voice and said, "Roxie, here is the deal. Both your bosses have fucked up big time. I don't know the details yet, but they both know better than to freeze out the person that signs the checks, which would be me. Right now, you are no longer the receptionist for this office. If you want to have some job by Monday, tell what is going on." While I looked into Roxanna's eyes, I remembered the set of Sheila's jaw, as she coiled the Cat for that last strike. That would forever be my definition of grim.

It must have worked. Roxanna caved like a set building in a windstorm. "Richard said that no one would come in, much less the chairman. He's been over at Sony trying to steal a script, or so he says. I think he is trying to steal the VP of Casting position. Mr. Thomas is just in Bakersfield with his mistress. Officially he's on set, but she only has a small part, and it shot last week. I doubt if it's worth it. She's a skinny little bitch." Interesting stuff to have recorded.

I paused to order the attack. "OK. You are now auditioning for a part in this company. The next thirty minutes will determine if you remain employed or, if not, the nature of your severance package. If you do a good job, this might work out for you. First, call the building Super and tell him that the Board has ordered the locks changed. I will confirm through other channels. Second, call Whitmore, Thompson and Watkins and ask for Jack Thompson. Tell them that it is me calling and the shit has hit the fan. Put that through as soon as it comes in. Where is my office?"

Once she decided to throw her lover under the bus, Roxanna performed much better. Not surprisingly, the office I was supposed to have existed only on electronic paper. However, there were old laptops and broadband hookups. In short order, I was able to order the lawyers and accountants to freeze everything solid. I have had a lot of experience writing employment contracts and a very canny instructor. There were a lot of useful clauses in both contracts. If Richard and John went softly into the night, they might salvage something. If they fought, there was little chance either would ever work in pictures again.

Having started the ball rolling, I returned to Roxanna's desk. She was no longer the receptionist—that was being farmed to a service for the short term. That meant that her board was available for other use. I told her a little of the last couple of days. The short version was that my best friend was getting married, which caused me to reconsider my career. It turned out that Roxie had some real estate classes through the community college. It did not make her a pro, but she would do for an escort.

I left her to make some preliminary calls while I went down to security and confirmed the earlier call. After a few minutes of proving I was me, things started moving. The first thing they showed me was the surveillance feed of Richard Williams attempting to access the building. Even better, he was being belligerent, which allowed me to have the police take over. As an employee on premises, he and his vehicle were subject to search at management's discretion. I sent the head of security down with a full team. Not long thereafter, handcuffs came out and Richard Williams was taken away for several drug offenses. As he left, he was treated to the sight of building security video searching his personal vehicle, with police standing by. Things were not going well.

Roxanna's reaction was interesting. I had concluded that she and Richard Williams were lovers. Everything since had confirmed my initial assessment. I was beginning to think that Roxie had not been a completely willing participant. I have broken a lot of bullies in my time, but the worst have always been the sexual predators. A lot of people, such as myself, sleep around. The industry lends itself to the practice. That does not invalidate the right to consent. I decided to take Roxanna to lunch.

In any part of LA, there are three Mexican restaurants within a couple blocks. We found a middling respectable one and settled into some chips, salsa and margaritas. Roxanna poured out her story, which I had heard many times before. Her small town in the Midwest was actually Jacksonville Florida, but the rest was right out of a Lifetime movie. She had come to LA hoping for the best and surviving something less than the worst. I just wished that my company had not been one of the problems.

Roxanna could not stay where she was. If nothing else, I had already fired her. However, she did have a bit of education and seemed willing to do a job, so I could use her. More importantly, she had been sexually harassed on my watch, so I owed her. That being the case, I resolved to do a Sean and collect her. She had no ties to LA, so I could take her back east with me. When I made my offer, the relief was obvious. Like much of the population of most cities, she was not officially in residence. She would have to buy her way out of her room, but there was no lease to break. I gave her $500 and the address of the bungalow. If she was there when I left, she could come with me—one way.

That done, I stopped to check my mail. Aaron Aldermann at Columbia Pictures wanted to talk. What the hell was this about?

Sheila:

I was in a funk. This happens. Normally I either throw myself into work or Ebay. Neither was an option. Instead I had to deal with a succession of sleazy media types. How Jones is a joke in poor taste, but there are people that will listen to even him. The three at my apartment were not nearly as bad, but Jones had set me on edge. Hopefully I had salvaged something. There are few things I fear more than an investigative journalist on my scent.

When I arrived at the Residence, Sean was there to meet me. It was early for him to be home, but there was good reason. Heaven knows there was a lot of activity going on, including a bunch of Amish buggies coming out from town. This was my idea, but I could not get interested. Siobhan would have me covered. Instead, I told Sean I wanted to dress up for dinner.