Seven Days Away: Seven Days, #4

Chapter 1

October.

W ell , of course I didn’t agree! How could I? Do you think it’s even possible, Maurice? All of us together in one apartment for a whole week; it would be world war three.

Calm down, Megan. We need to think this through. There could be major financial advantages for us.

"Trust you to think of money. That’s the last consideration on my mind. What about our Portia? The other grandkids can scarcely stand each other for an hour once or twice a year, never mind in such close quarters for seven days. And they all hate Portia. It would be a disaster!"

Maurice Anderson knew better than to continue the argument with his wife. He poured her another cup of coffee and made soothing noises while his mind worked busily at a different tactic. There had to be a way around the problems. At the very least, he would relish the chance to play golf in the sunshine in winter. At best, this opportunity could be the breakthrough to a better position when the Grump eventually kicked the bucket. The old guy was well into his eighties now and he couldn’t last forever. His scholarly career had engendered money and the couple were frugal beyond belief. Even now, they survived somehow in their large Toronto family home rather than pay the exorbitant fees in a nursing facility or seniors’ residence.

Megan was their firstborn, their only daughter, and both their lawyer and the executor of the will. She wouldn’t confirm the family’s financial status but he was sure it was significant.

Megan and he could fake it for a week and he would look for some sure-fire way to keep Portia on her best behaviour and her three cousins, Louise, Abigail and Devon out of her way for that short period of time. After all, there were months to go before winter. There had to be a way to do this.

He needed a way. He needed it desperately.

Terry, can you come home early tonight? I’ve just had the most amazing call from your mother and we need to discuss it right away. Louise and Abigail are coming over and Devon is here, of course.

Jillian Beck put down the phone and sighed. She was not certain her husband would respond to her appeal. Their relationship was on such shaky ground these days that he might just use the opportunity to embarrass her in front of the children by ignoring her request for his attendance. He rarely came home before eight or nine o’clock in the evening and she was usually glad to have the time to herself. She went to bed early and alone. That eliminated any chance of nasty recriminations.

Devon was the youngest and the only child still living at home. He holed up in the basement and rarely emerged other than for food. He had internet connections down there and she was not at all sure what he did with his time but he did not ask for money so she was relieved and left him to it. He had never shown any inclination to follow his father into the restaurant business or even to work with her in the supermarket. As manager, she could have put him in line for a job without any difficulty.

It was easier to let him be. He was a laid back kind of child and that was the way he had always been. Devon had been far less trouble than the girls. She had to remind herself the ‘girls’ were grown women now with homes and lives of their own. In some ways she enjoyed having Devon around. He was a reminder that her life as a mother still had some relevance.

Terrence Beck condescended to arrive at his home by seven. He let himself in by the garage door and swept into the kitchen in his usual flamboyant style. He enjoyed the surprised look on his wife’s face and registered the raised eyebrows of his daughters and the bored posture of his son. As usual, Devon’s expression could not be determined behind his dark glasses.

Nothing new there, then. She hasn’t told them yet.

He already knew the topic of the family meeting. His mother had been on the phone this morning while he was supervising a new menu trial in the restaurant. He had gathered the general idea of her conversation but none of the detail as he was too busy to talk for long. In any case, he figured the project was doomed from the get go. Jillian would refuse to spend a week with him playing happy families and their kids would rebel at the first suggestion of being in close quarters with the rest of their relatives. Family vacations had been left behind in their early teen years. Now all, except Devon, had projects, jobs, friends, boyfriends and commitments that took precedence over everything else.

He took a seat at the head of the kitchen table and sat back with a satisfied smirk to watch his wife squirm. He noticed the small platter of tired-looking veggies she had scooped up from the store on her way home. Pathetic! Of course, none of the kids were interested in them.

Good! Now everyone’s here I’ll tell you what’s happening.

Can you make it quick, Mom? I’ve a date in half an hour across town.

Right, Abigail. I hear you, but I think you will want to listen to this.

What’s so important that we have to be here on a week night, anyway? I am missing a study group.

Louise fiddled with her phone. A sure sign she was about to take off.

Terry watched while his wife tried to summon her prepared speech. She never did well when interrupted.

Just listen, all of you! No one leaves until I finish. Sit!

The tone was that of a dog handler with a reluctant animal and it had its effect.

She took a deep breath, pushed back a strand of long, curly, brown hair that had escaped from her untidy topknot and began in a steady voice.

Your grandmother and grandfather have requested that we all spend a holiday with them in Mexico next winter.

Why?

What?

When?

All I know is that this is very important to your grandparents and they will pay for all the flights and expenses so as to have the entire family together for this one week.

So, it’s a free holiday?

You could say so. It’s a very expensive resort with all the amenities. The weather would be excellent and the place is so large you wouldn’t have to be hanging around with your parents or grandparents all day long.

What about sleeping arrangements?

Terry chuckled as this issue arose. He knew it was the main stumbling block that would derail the entire thing. Jillian knew it too. She fiddled with some papers in front of her while she figured out how to make the unpalatable truth less obvious.

Well, your grandparents have secured a very large new apartment. It has an upper mezzanine level and a full-sized lower level with a variety of accommodations including a large, sheltered balcony with a plunge pool.

The two girls exchanged glances and even Devon looked up. Their father applauded his wife’s cunning. She had actually made it sound feasible for a minute. He sat back waiting for the proverbial penny to drop. It wasn’t long before Abigail spotted the flaw.

"Didn’t you say the whole family was going? Do you mean we have to share with the M&Ms and the ghastly Portia?"

Louise didn’t give her mother time to respond.

No way! Count me out. Nothing could persuade me to sleep within a hundred miles of that lot. She scraped back her chair and grabbed up her phone.

"Wait, Louise! This is an all-or-nothing proposition. We have to vote on it. You may not like your father’s sister or her husband, (and don’t ever refer to them in that way in their hearing), and I know how you feel about Portia, but we would be insulting your grandparents if we turn down their generous offer. Let’s see how the rest of us feel."

Louise sank down again but her expression made it clear she was not intending to change her mind.

Right, then! How do you feel about it, Devon?

Terry gave his wife credit for knowing the best approach. Devon had no chance of an expensive holiday in the sun through his own efforts. The venue would suit his easy breezy attitude to life.

Would there be Wi Fi available?

Of course there would.

Then, bags me the balcony!

Jillian smiled, with a sidelong glance at her husband. One down. Three to go.

What about you, Abigail? Couldn’t you arrange some kind of article to write from there?

Abigail’s mind was racing. She could see an advantage to this scheme. Curtis Soames had been less than attentive lately. If she could snag a serious assignment in Mexico, he might notice how valuable she was as a colleague and as a romantic partner. It would do her no good to cave in so fast, however. She would hedge her bets for now.

I might be able to do something along those lines but that doesn’t mean it would be easy to put up with the rest of it. She tossed back her heavy fringe of hair to reveal grey eyes that glittered, much like her father’s. Jillian knew the sign. Her elder daughter was weakening but still required an additional incentive.

What does Dad have to say about all this? He’s got a business to run. He can’t be taking off whenever he likes. Am I right, Dad?

Jillian tensed up when everyone turned to see what their father would say in answer to Louise’s question. She was his favourite child. She would likely abide by his decision. But his decision, as with all else about him these days, was unknowable.

It’s nice of you to ask, Lulu, but leave me out of this. Your mother seems to have it all in hand. Think it over and take the vote. It’s my parents who are asking after all. I have an obligation to respect their wishes. I’ll expect your mother to tell them the result, whatever way the vote goes.

There was a general sigh of relief. No decision required right now. The kitchen emptied immediately as normal life resumed for Jillian’s family, leaving her standing alone by the sink wondering if all the effort was worthwhile. What had she really hoped for? Was she stupid enough to believe that family unity was even possible in such a divided group? Did she ever want to start again with Terry after everything that had happened? Was the Mexican sun some panacea that could fuse them back together or was she dreaming again?

The front door slammed shut as the last person exited. Devon sent a puzzled look her way when he closed the basement door behind him. What was his mother up to? A blind man could see what a dysfunctional family this was. The holiday idea would have been kinda nice but it was never going to happen. Too bad!

Chapter 2

November.

Marian Beck groaned as she carefully raised herself out of the chair. The arthritis was so much worse this year. Come to think of it, everything was so much worse since she had turned eighty. She looked back on her seventies now as a halcyon age. Yes, there were some physical problems then, but nothing compared to these days. It was as if the decade change had signalled depletion in her physical life and also in her mental state. She gave herself a mental shake at this thought. Who was she to complain when her husband was in a much worse condition? Aylward was closer to ninety than eighty and he noticed the changes almost daily now. His once brilliant, inventive mind that had created an entire field of psychotherapy in his youth, was now reduced to querulous demands about the heating, the noises outside their windows, the neighbours’ cars, the dogs barking and a thousand other irritants that seemed to be all he could summon as topics of conversation. She could hear him grumbling away in the next room. She had better go and see what the latest disturbance was.

Her one comfort was that the children were not living close by. Their visits were few and far between. It was one thing for his wife to watch this dissolution. It would be quite another for Megan and Terrence to witness the sad condition to which their revered father had descended.

She knew her role as the guardian at the gate. If she failed to keep the secrets, she knew their independent lives would alter forever and for the worse. Megan would insist on selling the house and moving them into some form of sheltered accommodation in a location far from their remaining friends, sympathetic shopkeepers, and the band of service providers who made their lives livable in the family home that was far too large for them nowadays. Keeping those schedules operating at maximum efficiency was her main occupation. She had a large chart behind the kitchen door with all the names and duties marked in different colours for each day. She lived by the chart and doled out the costs in the form of cheques from their bank accounts, delivered each month. The bank manager was a friend who would bring new cheque books to the house when required, and who kept a watchful eye on their expenses.

Mrs. Beck, I know you are anxious to keep your monthly expenses within this special account. I appreciate this is your own business and that you do not wish your daughter to see the contents but she will have to know about it at some point. She is the financial advisor for the family and I can’t conceal the truth if asked directly.

I am not meaning to deceive, William. You know me better than that. My husband’s investments provide ample resources for our needs. I don’t want the children to know how much help we need to keep going. Aylward has made me promise to keep him at home as long as humanly possible. He has no problem with the expense of daily support systems to relieve me of the physical work, but I know how Megan would react if she knew. I expect you to understand this.

William Benedict inclined his head in submission to her request. He knew she was fighting for the professor’s welfare and he admired her stamina. Today, she was dressed in a smart, deep pink suit that was not new but suited her style perfectly. She carried a fur jacket as protection against the cold wind. Her short white hair was combed back from her ears where diamond earrings gleamed in the morning light. The bank tellers always remarked on her attractive outfits and the shoes she wore to add height and dignity to her presence. The general opinion in the bank was that Marian Beck must have been a beauty a few years back. There was always someone eager to open the heavy outer door for her and see her to her car. Some older women might have