I'm sorry!

When I said I'd continue on Monday, I didn't really mean a week from Monday, but that's probably how things are going to work out.

I came down with the upper respiratory virus that's been going around, and it's knocked me for a loop. I'm feeling better--thanks in part to many encouraging e-mails from my writing buddies, THANK YOU ALL!!--but I'm supposed to be out of town over the weekend AND I have yet to package up anything for the OWFI contest this year and the deadline is Tuesday. So my plan is--and you know how plans go--to finished Smiley Tie while I'm away, as well as wrap up the OWFI entries, and hit the "post" on Monday--both snail mail and here. :)

Stay warm (where it's cold) stay cool (where it's hot, and know I'm envious!!!), stay well, and write a lot!!

~Carolyn

Smiley Tie - 6

To start at the beginning of this story, click here.
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"Then you have that to shore you up, whatever comes. That and the fact that you kept those innocent children out of all of this. You are a good man, Anton." Her face echoed her approval, and it was a great comfort.

"Thank you for delivering his message, Gert. I'll be certain he knows that you did." Anton headed, not for the outside door, but for the one that headed back into the ballroom.

"Where are you going, young man?"

"To talk to my father."

Before she could start to talk him out of it, he was through the swinging door and headed down the hall.

"Maybe you'd have stood taller in a pair of shoes!" she called from the kitchen.

Anton looked down at this smiley socks decided they would give him more courage than his shoes would. Besides if he went back for the shoes, he might just lose his nerve.
---------------
Tune in Monday for the next episode of Smiley Tie.

Previous Stories

Smiley Tie - 5

To start at the beginning of this story, click here.
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Pauline shrugged one shoulder and stood up, which Anton assumed stood for a yes.

"Okay, then. I'm going to go take a peek out the door and see if things have settled down. You three stay here at the closet until I wave for you to follow me. When I do, you stay close behind me in single file and be very, very quiet till you're outside again. Deal?"

"Deal," said Herman and Joseph together. Pauline nodded.

They made it down to the kitchen without mishap, and Anton was relieved to find it empty. They had their shoes on in seconds.

"Thanks for making my evening, you three. I promise I will remember it fondly. I expect you to do the same."

"We will, Mr. Anton," Herman said. "Until next time."

He stuck his hand out like a gentleman and Anton shook it. Joseph followed suit. Then Pauline tried, but he couldn't just shake her hand. He hugged her quickly and whispered, "everything is okay," and then stood up, opened the door and waved until they rounded the corner of the house and were gone.

Safe.

"There you are," said Gertie from the doorway.

"So what was the fall-out Gertie. No pun intended really."

"I think the diplomat in your father went into overdrive and smoothed everything over. But there's more to come, I can assure you."

"Did you say anything about the kids?"

"It hardly seemed fair to have them involved. I mean, if we had said no from the beginning like we should have, none of the rest of it would have happened."

"Of course, if we'd known what was going to happen, we'd have said no, wouldn't we?"

"That's the point, Anton. No to start with would have eliminated any possibility of the disaster. I didn't think it was a good idea, but I'm not your mother."

"See that's the whole problem. For starters it should have been okay for me to bring them in and let them watch for a few moments. It did no one any harm and it made their evening. Or at least it made Pauline's. The boys were mildly enchanted at best. Anyway, don't you think that in my own house I should be able to invite three polite, well-behaved children in any time I wanted, especially if it was just a few moments?"

"And for finishers?"

"For finishers, it's a coward's way out to play it safe all the time. When you eliminate all risk, then you eliminate all the adventure in life."

"Well, honey, your adventure is just beginning, I think. I'm supposed to tell you, the next time I see you--which is now--that your father will meet you at the office first thing in the morning and in the meantime, you're supposed to find yourself a place to stay tonight, not under his roof."

"He's throwing me out?"

"It appears that way at the moment."
----------------
Tune in tomorrow for the next episode of Smiley Tie.

Previous Stories

Smiley Tie - 4

To start at the beginning of this story, click here.
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"Where'd she go?"

"She always hides in closets when she's in trouble," Joseph told him.

"Anton!" The roar came from downstairs.

"Through there, I'll bet," Joseph pointed to the nearest open door.

"Go find her, both of you."

"Don't make me come up there!" The bellow from below made Herman stop in his tracks, but Joseph kept moving.

"Lordy, you're in trouble now, Mr. Anton. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes for nothing."

"Well, I'm not even in my shoes am I?" Yellow smiley faces beamed up from his stocking feet. He wiggled his toes and watched Herman grin.

"She won't come out!" Joseph hissed from the doorway.

"Then we'll come in! Herman, help me grab the plates and cups."

With Herman's help, Anton erased the evidence of their presence. He quietly closed the door behind them, finding himself in one of many unused guest rooms. He'd never hidden in a closet before, and there was slim chance his father would have all the rooms searched. If they could hold out long enough for things to die down, he could get the kids out without anyone other than Gertie being the wiser that they were here. Gertie and Celia. Celia would be too petrified of losing her job, and Gertie…

Gertie would do the right thing. Which worried him just a bit. Because at the moment, Anton wasn't quite sure what was the right thing to do.

Pauline's sob changed all that.

"Joseph, tell her it's okay."

"I have. She won't listen. You'll have to talk to her."

"Okay. Back me up, boys."

Anton made his way to the back corner of the closet where Pauline was huddled behind some winter coats that shouldn't have been there.

"Sweetie, it's okay. It was an accident."

"But, but you were so nice, and it was all so perfect, and now you're in trouble and it's all my fault. I am so, so sorry." She punctuated the sentence with another sob.

"Pauline, honey, I was in trouble when I ran over Herman, remember?"

"Oh, but it was nothing like this."

"Listen, I can handle it. I know my father. He and I don't see eye to eye, but we have our words and it's done. Nothing horrible will happen, especially not to you or Joseph or Herman. I promise. But you do have to do one thing for me, okay?"

"Anything, Mr. Anton. Anything at all." There was fresh hope in her tear-filled eyes.

"You have to promise me that when you look back on tonight, and you start to think about the bad parts, you'll push those thoughts away and think about the good stuff instead."

Her face fell. "Okay."

"And…"

"And?" The hope was back. He could tell she was looking for something to do to make it right for him.

"And you'll be doing me a favor if you don't tell anyone you were here tonight. I'm going to shuttle you out through the kitchen again, and then I want the three of you to go back to doing whatever it was you had planned for tonight as though you were never here. Understood?"

"But Mr. Anton, it was my fault!"

"Pauline I need you to promise. If I accidentally spilled cake, it's one thing. If I sneaked three children in to watch and then spilled cake too, then there's more to answer for. Do you understand?"

She thought about it like she was trying, but wasn't totally convinced. In the background, Anton caught sound of the band starting up again. Things were settling back to normal apparently.

"So do you promise?" he asked Pauline.
--------------------
Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of Smiley Tie.

Previous Stories

Smiley Tie - 3

To start at the beginning of this story, click here.
----------------
"Can we go too?" Joseph asked.

"Sure, same rule."

They lined their punch cups neatly against the baseboard on the far side of the balcony aisle. Thereafter they stood wide-eyed and transfixed, forking cake into their mouths. Well, at least the guys were. Pauline was too mesmerized to do much but stare.

The boys began to lose interest and talk among themselves. It was probably getting close to time to get them out of here before there was any trouble, like missing children reports. Anton joined them at the railing.

"Had enough?"

The boys nodded.

"Oh, please, just one more minute, Mr. Anton," Pauline pleaded.

"One more minute." Anton bent over and rested his elbows on the railing beside her, trying to imagine what it must look like through her eyes. Gemstones glittered, gowns in all the rich jewel colors popular this season swirled and swayed in rhythm. The band eased seamlessly from one song to another. He doubted the kids recognized any of the tunes or any of the town's notables who made up the largest portion of the guest list. Anton could spot a couple congressmen and their wives, the mayor curiously without his spouse, a few councilmen and women, members of the school board, Senator Thompson and her husband and their daughter Aimee who was twenty and on the prowl. She had been stalking Anton most of the evening and was one of the many reasons he sneaked out through kitchen door and ran over Herman in the first place.

"Oh, that's my teacher. Mrs. Layman!" As Pauline pointed with one hand, the plate of cake tilted in the other, and there was not enough time to react between the premonition of disaster and the cake sliding off the plate when it bumped the rails. The plate clattered to the balcony floor, but what was left of Pauline's cake slid between them and began its free fall. There was nothing for any of them to do but stand there and watch it unfold.

The cake tumbled, in slow motion it seemed, plain side over icing, gathering speed and timing its landing most perfectly.

On the mayor's head.

Icing side down, of course.

Pandemonium broke loose as the mayor tried fend off the attack from above. The mangled piece of cake, with his toupee glued to the icing, landed in the décolletage of Aimee Thompson.

Her reaction was to pull it off and throw it as hard as she could, shrieking all the while, no doubt imagining it was some sort of rabid animal bent on biting her. It landed on the floor where a dancer squished it and slid, pulling his partner down on top of him in a rather embarrassing sort of position. Before anyone could say, "Watch out!" a half-dozen other dancers were dropping like bowling pins.

A flurry of guests and servants exploded into regular speed motion and buzzed about trying to set things right.

"Good-n-bennett!" Joseph whispered.

"This ain't good," Herman said.

If they hadn't spoken, Anton might not have laughed out loud. The Stooges couldn't have staged anything better than this. But the laugh carried, and he saw his father's head turn.

His first reaction in preservation mode was to pull the two boys back from the railing so they wouldn't be seen. Then he stepped backwards, just in time. It was then he noticed that Pauline was gone.
-------------
Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of Smiley Tie.

Smiley Tie - 2

To start at the beginning of this story, click here.
---------------
I have to be out of my mind Anton said to himself as the slipped back through the door he'd just escaped through. The three children followed closely behind him on tiptoe. They were headed for the back stairs when Gertie blew through the kitchen door on a mission. Anyone else would have continued about their business and not given him a second thought. But Gertie had been with the family for decades and had a soft spot in her heart for the rogue son of the manor.

"And what are you hooligans up to now?" she asked, hands planted firmly on her ample hips, elbows akimbo.

Anton stood up straight. "My friends here wanted a peek at the festivities, so we were going upstairs to the balcony to watch for a few minutes."

"I see." She looked the children up and down. "Herman, Joseph, and Pauline I believe your parents would skin you alive if they knew what you were up to."

How she knew everyone and everything still amazed Anton. The children froze in their tracks, and Anton imagined how their hearts were racing. They were so close, and she was going to send them packing without a glimpse. Pauline's eyes were already clouding.

"Go and be quick. But not so quick as you're gone when I send Celia up with your cake and punch."

Now there was a woman who never forgot what it was like to be a child. Of course his father would be quick to point out she was nothing but a servant, but Anton got the feeling she was perfectly happy doing what she did, and didn't find the work demeaning or any less fulfilling than his father's. One thing was certain. She smiled a lot more than his father did.

"Bless you Gertie!"

"Oh, and maybe those shoes should stay here," she said, looking down at the children's feet which still had a bit of flowerbed clinging to them where no doubt they'd been trying to tip-toe high enough to see through a window. Anton shucked his pinching shoes with joy, the others lined their's up beside his, and they were off on their adventure.



A few minutes later the four of them were lurking in the shadows of one of the balconies upstairs that overlooked the ballroom floor. Anton knew exactly where the lights were dimmest; he had spent many a boring party doing some entertaining of his own in those same shadows. Tonight's escapade seemed a bit more...wholesome. Forbidden but wholesome.

"Will the cake be chocolate?" Herman asked.

"I don't really know," Anton said. "If it's not we can always send it back."

"Isn't it simply gorgeous. Oh, Mr. Anton." Pauline was awe struck from the moment she caught her first glimpse of the festivities. "Someday I want to know how to dance like that." She started moving closer to the railing.

"You should start now," Anton replied. "They're waltzing. It's easy. Your feet go like this."

He was in the midst of getting his toes thoroughly trounced when the goodies appeared and dancing was immediately abandoned. They settled into seats to eat.

"Looks like you got your wish, Herman," Anton said as he cut into the cake. The chocolate was deep, smooth and rich, and the buttercream icing--Sarah in the kitchen had outdone herself with that batch.

"Did I ever!" he said after he swallowed.

Pauline was still drawn by the activity below. The waltz had changed to a livelier beat. She craned her neck to see over the railing.

"Pauline, you can move up to the railing and watch if you want. Just leave the drink here, okay? It won't get spilled that way."

"I can take the cake with me?"

"Sure, just try not to get sticky fingers on anything if you can help it."
-------------
Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of Smiley Tie.

Smiley Tie - 1

Anton quickly slipped out the kitchen door unnoticed and turned to make his escape and ran right into a child who promptly fell backward and landed in a heap on the herringbone paving stones. Two more children exploded from around the corner of the house and stopped short, their faces a mixture of concern, dismay and downright fear. He imagined that his face looked much the same, only with a little irritation thrown in.

He knelt down beside the child, thankful to see the eyes slam shut as he did so. There was no blood anywhere, no swelling or bruising that he could see.

"Are you all right? It's okay, I'm not going to scream for your parents." It just so happened that he recognized all three of them, but only by sight, not by name. The fallen hero was the son of the chauffeur and his wife. The other two lived with their parents in the cottage at near the gate. Their parents were also long-term employees of the estate.

With that the boy opened his eyes wide. It was almost frightful. "Promise?"

"Promise. Hey, go easy there," Anton said as the boy began to scramble to his feet. "Let's test things out as we go, shall we? Make sure nothing is broken. Come on over you two. He's fine." Anton gestured to the two others who were still rooted in their tracks, one boy and one girl. Anton guessed that they were all around 9 or 10.

The other two approached cautiously. The boy was shaking out arms and legs. "Everything works. I'm sorry for running into you."

"Ditto. So who are the three of you and why are you lurking about the kitchen patio?"

"I'm Herman. This is Joseph and Pauline."

"Nice to meet you Herman, Joseph and Pauline. I'm Anton Brewer. And what about the rest?"

"The rest?" asked Herman.

"The rest of the question. Why are you here?"

The boys maintained a cautious silence, but Pauline piped up, "We wanted to see what it looked like in there. We wanted to see the ladies in their gowns and the gents in their tuxes. We had a bet--"

"That doesn't matter anymore," Herman cut in, scowling sideways at her. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have been prowling around up here."

"No matter. And let me tell you, I was escaping from in there. Yes, it looks nice, but it is more boring than....than.... I can't think of anything more boring than that party. What I wouldn't give to be your age again and have some real fun."

He looked at their upturned faces and could tell they didn't believe a word he had said. "It's true!" he protested. "See this tie? What do you think of this tie?"

He held the point of the black tie out toward them and watched them all grin, just like the yellow smiley faces that dotted the black silk. "I think this is a cool tie, don't you?"

"Yeah, it's a cool tie," Herman said.

"Well can you believe that my father was upset with me for wearing this tie here tonight. I ask you," Anton tucked the tie back inside the suitcoat where it belonged and stood at attention, "does it detract from my overall appearance?"

"No, you look very handsome," Pauline replied.

"Well thank you. My dad said it made me look childish."

"Dads are like that," responded Joseph. "I think they go to work too much and forget how to play. My red sneakers go perfectly well with my church pants and they're clean, but never in a million years will I get to wear my red sneakers to church."

Anton rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started on shoes!" The kids all giggled and then a silence fell over all of them. Anton knew they were on the verge of taking their leave, but something inside him wanted their company a little while longer. "Do you really want to see what's going on in there?"

All three heads bobbed eagerly.

"Okay, here's the plan."
------------------
Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of Smiley Tie.

Wings Unfolding-End

To start at the beginning, click here.
________________________

"It all came clear, listening to you both. You and I were to be him and Mother, all over again. All these years and he finally got what he'd wanted all along--my mother back. Oh, you planned it so carefully Patrick. You played right into his weakness when you 'designed' my face as you did. So congratulations! Your plan worked. You have his money. But know this. You and my father gave me new wings with this new face, and I intend to use them to the full. And I'm starting by dropping the weight of this house. I’m selling it."

"Selling? Why? To whom?"

"Northrop Development wants to pull it down and put up a shopping center or a restaurant or something. Maybe all of the above. I'm through with my cocoon. I might as well let it go. It's going to be demolished. So," she said, pulling the ring from the pocket of her suit, "I'm sure you'll be wanting this back."

"Do you really think I want to marry you just to get this house? I don't care about this house or your Father's money. I'm not marrying those things or your father's dream. I'm not interested in some version of your mother for his sake or mine. I want you."

"But you aren't marrying me, Patrick. You're marrying what my father and you created. Only neither of you understood exactly what you were creating, the metamorphosis you made happen. I'm free, Patrick. My wings are dry, warmed by the fire I just passed through. I'm ready to fly."

Patrick just stood there staring with his brows furrowed.

"I don't want to fit into the cocoon that Serena or Clarissa or Father or you think I belong in. I don't want to take care of anyone but me now. I'm tired of being manipulated."

"You have it all wrong, Monroe," he finally said.

"Do I?"

"Yes. Yes, you do. I love you." His voice gathered speed and intensity. "Your father loved you. Can't you see? He admitted that he used you but there toward the end he woke up and realized what the family had done to you. He couldn't undo all that but he tried. He liked knowing that you wouldn't have to face your sisters' wrath all by yourself, 'just Monie.' He saw me as your full battalion, backing you up, helping take care of the house and most importantly taking care of you. He didn't want to see you alone and lonely anymore."

He reached forward and Monroe let him take her face in his hands.

"I loved you before your face changed, just as you were. Look back and you'll see."

Monroe felt her confidence slipping and she pushed his hands away from her. She had been so certain. How could she tell if what he said was true? How could she risk trusting him?

"No." Monroe drew a breath and lightly stomped her foot. "No, Patrick. I have to end this. It's too close to what was, and far from what I want. You are part of this life. I want a new one."

"That doesn't mean you have to completely scrap the old. Even butterflies find themselves living in the same surroundings as they did when they were caterpillars. Portions carry over and become part of the new because they are good and true."

"Please, Patrick. It's enough. I've made up my mind. Here, take this." Monroe pressed the ring into his palm.

"You haven't convinced me, Monroe. I'll accept this. For now. But this fire in you is destroying good things too, things that should be preserved. Can you control that inferno within so those new wings don't burn up and drop you?"

Monroe remained silent. Lost in new fear and confusion, it was best to say nothing.

"I see," Patrick said at last. "I should be going then, too." He left the house without looking back.

~*~*~*~

Monroe waited this time until the limousine pulled away from the door. Franco appeared with her coat in hand.

"It's over?" he asked. But he wasn't smiling anymore.

"Yes, Franco. It is. It is over. All of it." She sighed heavily. "I need some air. I'll be back shortly."

Monroe walked back down the sidewalk, through the pedestrian gate. Standing where she had this morning, she stared up at the house again, until her fingers began to chill. She reached for her gloves, but found they were not there and tucked her hands in her coat pockets instead.

The wrought iron fence spiked from the ground, this time separating past from present. It was easier now to see the house as though she were a stranger passing by. She was. Everything she'd had, everything she'd known was changing. There should have been more joy to it than this, more than just a brief flicker of triumph. It was going to take more time, and much more thought, before she was comfortable. If she was going to carry something into the future from this, she didn't want it to be loneliness.

She felt certain wouldn't see anything of her sisters again, ever. But Patrick...would he come back? He had always been so doggedly persistent. If he showed up tomorrow on the doorstep, wouldn't that say something she should listen to? If...If...If....

The clouds were gone now. Sunlight played on the soft blue paint, but there was no butterfly there. It was what it was--an old house. She'd been wrong to look for more than was there. Or less.

She was what she was, all at once different and the same. Monroe. Free. With wings to take her forward. Or back. That she would have to figure out in flight.

_______________________

I'll be back on Monday with more Cereal. Everyone should have ham and eggs on Sunday. :) Grab a good book!

Wings Unfolding-6

"Patrick. Come on in. We're about through here." Monroe rose to introduce him to everyone. She was glad that he was tall and confident, easy on the eyes. Another plus in her column. "This is Patrick Bertrell, Father's good friend. And mine." She smiled up at him.

"Apologies for my tardiness." He nodded at everyone then looked down at Monroe. "We must have gotten our wires crossed about the time I was to be here." When he leaned forward she turned her head, accepting his polite peck on her cheek.

"Nonsense, Patrick. You are here at just the right time. We're about ready to let Mr. Potts be on his way and have some lunch ourselves. I'm sure Father discussed all of this with you anyway. There can't possibly be any surprises."

Patrick looked at her quizzically, then she watched a fake smile spread over his face no doubt for the sake of their audience. "No, we never discussed it. But that doesn't matter. You can fill me in later."

"He didn't tell you about the donation to your clinic?"

"No."

He seemed genuinely surprised. Monroe was baffled. He and Father had been so tight. She was so certain it had been part of Patrick's overall plan.

"Well, then you should be pleasantly surprised. Let's talk about it over the meal. Shall we everyone?"

"I don't care to be in your company any longer than necessary Monroe," Serena said, standing. "You think you're beautiful, but you're nothing but an ugly thief. First Mom, now this. I hope you rot from the inside out with all your lies and deception. But first go ahead and have lunch. We'll take care of whatever we need to do with Mr. Potts and we'll be on our way."

"Suit yourself." Monroe linked her arm through Patrick's and they left the study.

"Victory?" Patrick asked once they were out of earshot. He was all too familiar with the family dynamics and what she'd wanted to achieve.

"Victory." Monroe pulled her arm from his.

"Okay, Monroe. What's going on. You aren't wearing your ring."

"I didn't want you to be accused of brainwashing or manipulating me. Believe me, it was a straw they'd have grabbed at like a lifeline. So I made sure you weren't in any way linked to me as far as they were concerned."

"I see."

"Even though you really have been brainwashing and manipulating me."

He gripped her arm and pulled her around to face him. "I knew something was up with you. What's going on here, Monroe?"

"I heard you. You thought I was gone for the night, but I was still at the hospital. I heard you and Father talk about your plans for me and for this house. Father was so happy he didn’t' have to leave it to 'just Monie' and that in your hands it would be properly cared for. It all came clear, listening to both of you."

"But, Monroe--"

"Let me finish! You asked."

"Okay," he said, taking his hand off her arm and stuffing his fists into his pockets.

_______________________

Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion of Wings Unfolding :)

Wings Unfolding-5

To start at the beginning, click here.
_______________________
Monroe walked down the hall. Pausing outside the door, she could hear the bass drone of the lawyer's voice and the twitter of her sisters. Their men were silent, as usual. As she herself had always been. It was time to begin the last of her transformation, the final burst from the cocoon, the warming of new wings before flight.

She walked in, pausing just inside the doorway to look squarely into the eyes of each person in the room. Then she moved forward and extended her hand to Mr. Potts. She shook it firmly and said, "Good morning, Mr. Potts. Everyone."

Monroe slid into the empty seat at the head of the table before her quaking knees had opportunity to give way. Hesitant recognition flashed over Serena's face. Clarissa was still in the dark.

"Shall we get started?" she said, looking again at Mr. Potts.

"Monie?" Serena said slowly, blinking as though to clear her sight and get a better view.

Clarissa whipped around to take in Serena's expression and then turned back to Monroe, searching her face.

Monroe smiled confidently at them all. "Long time, no see. Things change, don't they? I'm sorry we had to come together under such sad circumstances."

She paused and no one uttered a word.

"I know Mr. Potts is a busy man, so perhaps we should just get down to business so he can be on his way. Are you interested in a thorough reading, or just the bottom line?"

"My, my Monroe." Serena rose from her chair, moving smoothly, like a cat. "First, Little One, this is not your production; you will not have the floor, especially after the God-awful confusion over the funeral. Mr. Potts, as the eldest, you'll be dealing with me now. We shall proceed through the will page by page, but I'd prefer you just summarize the page content as we go. Understood?"

Monroe felt her face go hot. This time it was not with embarrassment. It was rage, and in its heat she could feel her new wings flexing and folding.

Mr. Potts turned to her. "Monroe?"

"That sounds like a good idea, Mr. Potts. Please proceed."

"Mr. Potts, did you not hear what I told you?" Serena demanded.

"Yes, Ma'am, I did. You must understand that Miss Monroe has already been named executor of the estate. However, since the two of you agree, I don't see a problem."

Had Monroe been a cat, she would have been purring.

Father had taken care of his girls according to the way they had taken care of him. His generosity extended to underprivileged students, favorite charity organizations, the community, and of course Patrick's interests. What was left, the bulk of his remaining money and the property, he had bequeathed to Monroe.

"This will be contested Monroe. Make no mistake," Serena spit out when all the details were clear.

"Anticipated, Serena. Can you summarize the information accompanying the will, Mr. Potts?"

He summarized the documentation of Father's medical and mental fitness at the time the will was drawn up, nearly two years previously. One by one, all valid grounds for contesting the will were removed.

"However, if you enjoy wasting money in legal wrangling, feel free," Monroe concluded. "Is that all, Mr. Potts?"

"Unless there are questions."

A timid knock sounded from the open doorway. Monroe twisted around to find Patrick standing in the doorway. Right on time.
________________________

Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of Wings Unfolding :)

Wings Unfolding-4

To start at the beginning, click here.
_______________________

Before the surgery she had found no strong family resemblance to either parent.

This had all been her father's idea, after Clarissa's last "wise" visit. Thoroughly put out with the conniving of both the older girls, Father had told her, "I will see to it that they get what they give, Monie. Don't think for a minute that I'm unaware of all you're doing for me, all that you've given up. I'm trying to find a way to make it up to you."

His version of making it up to her was larger than life, as his ideas usually were. Initially Monroe had flatly dismissed his idea of reconstructing her, feeling slighted and ashamed that her looks weren't good enough, even for her father.

Refusing to accept no for an answer, he had introduced her to Dr. Patrick Bertrell. The surgeon had actually come to the house at Father's beckoning. Still Monroe flatly refused.

But her father and Patrick formed one of those instant and enduring links, and he began stopping by the house on a regular basis. He would pop in to challenge Father to a game of chess or backgammon. Soon Father was inviting him for meals. He became a regular feature in their lives.

Whenever he was at their home, the young doctor always made a point to include her in their conversations, to ask her opinion, to draw her into their fun. Next thing she knew, Patrick was taking them both to movies, the theater, dinner. He became her ally, helping her to accomplish what she could not do by herself to expand her father's world as well as her own.

This change in circumstances made her as giddy and light headed as if she had been drinking too much. She was still reeling with it when months later, her father again brought up the idea of cosmetic surgery. This time Patrick was able to draw from her the admission of what was truly in her heart. She wanted to be beautiful--on the outside as well as on the inside. Patrick could make that happen. He wanted to.

No one seemed prepared for the way she had turned into her mother. But appearances, she knew, could be deceiving. Still, Monroe was pleased with the effect. Her neck seemed longer and more slender, and her hair shimmered as it brushed against her face, just below her ear instead of trailing listless and with nameless color down the length of her back. She stepped back from the mirror to view the whole package--her frame carrying over sixty pounds less weight, clad expertly in a tailored gabardine suit of armor gray.

In her heart she shut away the hope that this new appearance would reap what she wanted from her siblings. She dared not hope for love. In fact, she did not want it; their version of love was too demanding. But dignity and respect--that would be nice, if only for a fleeting, victorious moment. She wouldn't be able to stand it if she came off as a sideshow. Maybe it would have been better to let Patrick be here, just for show value. Yet the one thing her heart was sure about was the fact that from here on out, she needed to act alone.
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Wings Unfolding-3

To start at the beginning, click here.
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"How could Monie get something as critical as a funeral date messed up? They can't have buried him without us here. Why didn’t someone call when we didn't show, for goodness sake? Think of how it must have looked, his own children not even coming to the funeral." Clarissa was arguing with Franco as if doing so would bring the coffin out of the earth.

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Miss. You can speak with her yourself shortly. I feel certain her understanding was that you intended to be here for the reading of the will."

"Well of course we planned to be here for the will, but how heartless do you think we are? He was our father," responded Clarissa.

"My apologies, Ma'am. And my condolences as well."

"So where is the lady of the house anyway?" Serena punctuated her question with a titter, and the rest of the party followed suit.

Monroe twitched as though she'd been hit. Again, it shouldn't have jolted her, but it always did.

"Miss Monroe went out for her daily walk. She will be back shortly. The lawyer, Mr. Potts, is here early however, and I have shown him into the study."

"Very good, Franco. We'll head that direction. Please send in something hot to drink. This house is always chilly. Just think of how fun it's going to be to modernize this!"

"In your dreams, Clarissa. I am the oldest after all," Serena countered.

"Ah, but I am the wisest. That's why I came down two summers ago to convince Daddy how much I needed a place worthy of entertaining my clients. I pointed out how you and Stephen already have Greystone. Why would you need another house? When I left, he told me he was sure I would be quite surprised with all that I had secured for myself."

Monroe had ducked into the powder room off the foyer as the four of them emerged and started down the hall, continuing to murmur among themselves. When it was safe, she stepped out to find herself face-to-face with Franco, his arms full of overcoats, and his smile broader than she'd ever seen it.

"You look marvelous, if I may say so. May I take your coat?"

Monroe grinned back and added her coat to the pile. "Thanks for taking the heat for me, Franco. I owe you."

"My pleasure, Miss Monroe."

She went to the foyer mirror one last time. It was marvelous, what Patrick had done with her nose and chin. Funny thing was, she looked like her mother now.
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Wings Unfolding-2

To start at the beginning, click here.
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A long black limousine pulled around the corner and slowed to turn into the driveway. Monroe looked down to see if her pounding heart was moving the fabric of her coat. She wished the sun would come out long enough to allow her to don sunglasses. Then she would have felt completely sure of herself.

The car moved up the drive and under the portico. Monroe was astonished at how close it was to her. One step, one reach and she could have touched anyone that emerged from the passenger side of the car. She looked down at the burning cigarette, flicking ashes.

She recognized Serena from her leg. That was all it took--a perfectly heeled, slim leg emerging from the car. No need to watch the rest of her come into view. Her husband Robert followed her. Clarissa unfolded next, followed by her live-in Stephen. Would they look? Would they see her eyes and know? If she deliberately avoided looking at them, would they suspect?

Why do I always forget how self absorbed they are, how conscious of position? Monroe thought. They were the children of the lord of the manor. They felt no need to acknowledge an underling guest smoking outside the front door. Only Stephen had the courtesy to nod before he placed his hand in the small of Serena's back and propelled her forward while she touched a handkerchief to her eye. There wasn't the faintest glimmer of recognition.

This remembering, plus the small success with Stephen all served to strengthen her. Monroe waited until the driver eased the limousine away from the door. She crushed the cigarette thoroughly under her heel and walked into the house.

"What are you saying, Franco?" The high-pitched wail came from the waiting parlor where the butler was taking the heat.

"Ma'am, as I said, the funeral was yesterday." Franco spoke in the calm level tone he always did.

"That can't be!" It was the closest Serena could come to screeching. "Why oh why did I leave such important details to the baby of the family! Monroe has always been an incompetent fool."

Monroe almost snorted. Why indeed? They had left everything to the baby for years. They had even stopped coming home for the holidays. If they rang, it was to ask to use the house for a party of some sort.

It seemed there was some unwritten contract that the youngest, whose birth had robbed the family of their caretaker, would assume that role. Especially when it came to caring for their ailing, housebound father after a hunting accident left him partially paralyzed. How gracious their gods had been to see that the accident had occurred when their Monie was sixteen and old enough to care for all the details, from Father's care and meals, to organizing the renovation that had made the house comfortable for him.

As far as her siblings were concerned, Monroe had all she deserved in life.

In that regard they were about to be right for the very first time.

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Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of Wings Unfolding :)

Wings Unfolding-1

Quick note: For those who have been brave enough to stick with me for several years, the first month or so of this blog will be familiar. I promise there is new stuff brewing in the wings. :)

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Wings Unfolding

Was this a time of new beginnings? Or unnecessary endings? Perhaps it was a bit of both...

The wrought iron fence spiked from the ground, a stiff, stoic sentry separating the public from the private. Monroe tried to see the house as though she were a stranger passing by. It was hard to do. She knew too well the soft blue that swaddled it when the sun shone. Today the paint faded into the shadows under weak winter light, turning lethargic gray, deepening to charcoal in the nooks and crannies.

At one corner the house jabbed into the air, imitating the fence. The balancing twin turret stood guard on the other corner. It looked like some ghoulish Halloween nightmare, begging for respect and dignity, but earning only suspicion and disdain, a bat trying to be a butterfly.

Monroe rubbed her chilled hands together, then moved the shoulder strap of her handbag closer to her neck, before reaching down to slide leather gloves from the pocket of her black wool coat. After pulling them on, she laced her fingers and wiggled them to settle the gloves firmly over each finger. It felt like a handshake, sealing the pact she had made between herself and her future. She smoothed the coat over her hips, made sure the belt was looped just so, and took a deep breath.

She let herself in through the front pedestrian gate and walked the steep sidewalk to the portico. There she took a seat on the oak bench by the door where oftentimes guests would wait for a car to be pulled around, and where considerate gentlemen would sit to smoke. She folded a glove back to look at the time; it wouldn't be long now.

Needing something to do with her hands, she pulled her handbag into her lap and fumbled inside for a lighter and a cigarette. Fumbled horribly. Good thing she hadn't waited to carry out this part of the charade. It seemed to take forever to coordinate it all. Who would have known that lighting a cigarette would be such a detailed process?

Finally it was done. Monroe let it burn, occasionally flicking ash into the empty flower urn at hand. She raised the smoke to her mouth getting close enough, she felt, to give the appearance of actually smoking it. Truth be told, the smell alone was turning her stomach. But it was a good ruse, too good to pass up.

I should feel guilty Monroe thought misleading my own family and Patrick too.

Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting episode of Wings Unfolding :)