Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (30 page)

"I didn't do much, just tried to be helpful," I said.

"Sweetie, we'd be lost without you," Eleanor said as she hugged me.

No question, my condition was fatal.

We arrived at Mrs. Morton's apartment. My sisters nosed around as I rearranged the oven's contents and took the turkey out. It rested on the cart and I sat down.

"What time did you get up?" Irene asked me.

"I don't remember."

She pushed the cart, and Eleanor took my arm. We sauntered into our apartment. Ben sat with his back to us in the living room, watching a football game. And wearing a suit?

"There you are, you worthless son of a bitch. Your wife is slaving away with swelling ankles while you…" Irene yelled.

The man stood and scowled at us. Mr. Cobb had arrived.

"I believe you're looking for my son. Which angel of darkness are you: Irene or Eleanor?" he asked.

"Careful, Irene. This one bites. I'm Eleanor Hale, Mr. Cobb. Pleasure to meet you," she said as she extended her hand.

He shook it, but his gaze never left Irene.

"Alexia, Ben went to the store for a few bags of ice. He noticed your ankles, too," Mr. Cobb said.

Steam rose off of both of them, but Irene blinked first. Good move, he has had more years of practice by dueling with Ben.

"Excuse me, Mr. Cobb. I thought you were my new brother-in-law. Naturally, I'm concerned about my little sister's health," Irene said.

"As are we all, Irene. My son is many things, but he loves Alexia. Never doubt his sincerity or honor," he said as he offered his hand to me.

I took it and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good, first impressions and introductions have been made. The patriarchs are sizing each other up. When do we eat?" Ben asked as he hiked in with two plastic bags.

"As soon as you carve the turkey, I'll unmold the cranberry sauce and sauté the beans," I said. "Please be seated in neutral corners."

"I'll take Irene and peruse your condo. We'll make a list of what we like and don't like," Eleanor said as she nudged Irene down the hall.

Mr. Cobb rolled the cart into the kitchen.

"She's protective," I said.

"So am I. Everything smells delicious. Ben told me about the oven. Brava for pushing through and making dinner."

"It's not like building the pyramids, but it's an accomplishment for me," I said.

Mr. Cobb went back to the living room and the game.

Ben stood by the sink, laughing.

"Could anyone's Thanksgiving be frostier than ours? Irene is tough, but if she goes after me in front of him…"

"You fight with him all the time," I said, opening the refrigerator door.

"Yes, but no one is allowed to speak ill of me to him. He reserves the right to criticize and woe to anyone else. Another reason I don't sell or show. My dad would be slashing art critics' tires."

"That's wonderful." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Not the butchering, the care. There are a few more dishes in the oven."

"I'll get them while you rest."

"Don't forget to turn off the oven and the lights. I'll clean up later."

"You will nap after dinner, and your sisters will swab the decks," he said as he and our blessed cart left.

Irene set the table with Helen's dishes, Eleanor and I arranged the food, Mr. Cobb opened the wine bottles, and Ben brought in the turkey. We all sat, and I decided to offer up a word of gratitude.

"Thank you for Mrs. Morton's dual ovens, Ben's unlimited credit to buy all the glorious food, my sisters' silence, and Mr. Cobb's tolerance. We also remember our family not assembled here today. They are loved and missed. Now please eat and enjoy," I said.

Ben handled the flow of conversation, inviting everyone to reintroduce themselves without the combat. Eleanor picked up the baton and talked about our parents. Not about the tragic car accident, but their fun quirks. Mom did the crossword puzzle every morning, and dad played the trombone. Mr. Cobb talked about Helen. Irene ate and smiled at the appropriate intervals. Everyone declared the meal marvelous, and then I went to bed.

Three hours later, I re-emerged from the bedroom. Ben and Eleanor were paging through photo albums and laughing. Irene and Mr. Cobb played chess.

"Have they been getting along?" I asked as I nodded at the intense ones.

"They're gambling for our souls or selling us as galley slaves," Ben said.

"As long as they're quiet," Eleanor said.

I strolled into the spotless kitchen. Not a plate, dish, or glass in sight.

"So, hostess, what's for dessert?" Eleanor asked.

"The pies are cooling downstairs. I'll get them."

"Don't be silly, we'll go," Mr. Cobb said, pointing to Irene.

"Me too," Eleanor said as she stacked the photo albums.

Ben handed me the key as everyone else pushed me out the door and to the elevator. I opened Mrs. Morton's door and was greeted by the smells of cinnamon and apples. We grabbed the pies and were out in the hall as I fumbled with the key

"Precious, someone is stealing Mummy's dishes," Mrs. Morton said, scurrying toward us.

"And filling them with hot food," Irene said.

"What is Precious?" Mr. Cobb asked.

"Her neurotic, cross-dressing dog," I said under my breath. "Mrs. Morton, I'm Alexia Cobb. My husband, Ben, and I live upstairs. I'd like you to meet my sisters, Eleanor and Irene Hale. This is my father-in-law, Benjamin Cobb. Please join us for dessert."

"No dear, I never dine with strangers. It gives Precious indigestion."

"He's not setting a paw in your condo," Eleanor said.

"Where is Precious?" I asked.

"He stepped out for a smoke. Please call me Jean," Mrs. Morton said.

Mr. Cobb, my sisters, and I filed past her.

"You're like the television show. The man with all the wives and children. Which one have you had the longest?" Jean asked Mr. Cobb.

"All of them. They came as a set. It would have cost extra to break them up," he said.

"Wise decision. Good to keep harmony in the family. Well I'm off," she said.

"I'll say," Irene said.

"I apologize for any mess. I'll clean everything up," I said.

"Where?" Jean asked.

"In your apartment. My oven broke, and I've been cooking in your kitchen all day."

"Delightful, do come in," Jean said, trying her doorknob.

"When did the Mad Hatter become a woman?" Eleanor asked.

"Jean, please come upstairs. If you've already eaten, have some coffee," Mr. Cobb said.

"I'd prefer a cognac or brandy or amaretto or Irish whiskey."

"In a to-go cup," Mr. Cobb said.

"I don't know if we have any liquor," I said.

"You do. Ben keeps a stocked bar. Now, Jean," Mr. Cobb said, offering his arm.

"You look so familiar. Have you ever been to South America?" she asked him.

"Of course."

"In my youth, I danced in a revue in Rio. You resemble a mysterious man I met there. I don't recall his name, but I believe he was my third husband."

"Unfortunately, we've neither met nor married."

"Pity. He owes me money."

"I bet they all do," Irene said.

We hustled Jean into the elevator and brought her home.

"Please have a seat. I'm putting apple pie and ice cream out now. Ben, this is Jean Morton, our neighbor."

"Welcome to the Cobb diner," he said, extending his hand. "Sit next to Alexia. The girls and I will bring the pies in."

"Did he call us girls?" Eleanor asked.

"Would you prefer chicks, babes, or dolls?" Ben asked.

"Women of superior quality will suffice. Have a seat, beefcake, you'd only be in the way," Irene said, marching into the kitchen.

Eleanor smiled as she followed.

"You bring out the best in people, son," Mr. Cobb said, pulling out a chair for Jean.

"Family trait," Ben said, filling the coffee cups.

Mr. Cobb was right about the bar. I brought over three bottles of brownish fluid. The men selected one a piece and added a few drops to their coffee. Jean put four teaspoons of one in her cup. I hoped it helped her medicine stay down.

"Jean, do you have any children?" I asked.

"Heavens no. My late husband, Charles or Ronnie, never wanted any. So I sold them."

"Excuse me?" Ben asked.

My sisters came back with the pie and ice cream and caught the conversation. They quickly took their seats.

"She should go on tour," Eleanor said.

"The chairs, dear boy, were a wedding gift from my great aunt Louise on my mother's side. She adored me: offered me furs, beads, and rugs," Jean said.

"Was she bartering on the frontier?" Irene asked.

"She lived in Paris where I met the love of my life."

We fell silent, waiting for the next misadventure to be told. Jean stared out the window. Was Heathcliff scratching at the glass? The phone rang. Ben got up and walked into the kitchen.

"Yes, she's here having a lot of things to drink. Okay, send him up."

He came back to the table.

"Jean, your grandson is on his way here."

There was a knock at the door.

"That will be Mario. Saturdays, after dinner, we rumba on the roof," Jean said as she stood.

"Didn't you rumble on the roof?" Eleanor asked Irene.

"No, you tumbled off the roof. It's the root of your many psychological problems," Irene said.

"As I remember, I was pushed."

"See what I mean?" Irene said.

Ben answered the door and a young man stepped in.

"Grandma, why did you leave the house?" he asked Jean.

"I believe he's talking to you," Jean said, smiling at me.

My sisters stood up, sped down the hall, and closed a bedroom door. I knew they were laughing.

"I'm sorry, my name is Robert Day. My grandma is losing her grip on things. These last two months, I've been the doorman, her high school Science teacher, and Henri Somebody. My mom, her daughter, has been trying to get her to move in with us."

"I'm Alexia Cobb. I'm sure we added to her confusion. Our oven broke and I used hers to make our dinner. She came home and found us leaving her apartment. She's a wonderful storyteller."

"If you don't mind jumping through the decades of her life. I never knew she was married five times. It's interesting and horrifying. She ran with a fast crowd, sounds fun. My mom has recorded her and played it back. Grandma wants to know 'Who's the crazy woman speaking gibberish?' Now, her dog is barfing all over our house."

"He has a sensitive stomach," I said.

Jean put her hand on Ben's arm.

"Now that the waiter has brought the check, we should be leaving. Our flight to Monaco leaves at nine. Goodnight to all. The coq au vin was tolerable, but the company divine," she said.

She kissed my cheek and embraced Mr. Cobb. Ben escorted her to the door. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. His jaw dropped as he blushed.

"I'll take her from here. Thanks," Robert said, watching Ben as he closed the door.

"So what did she say?" his father asked.

"My children's delicate ears are too close," Ben said.

"Children?" Irene asked.

In the bustle of the longest day, we buried the lead and forgot to make our double the fun announcement.

"Two or three babies?" Eleanor squealed.

"Counting Ben, three," I said.

He put his arm around my shoulder and laughed. My sisters spoke at the same time, as always: questions, advice, directions. Both hugging and kissing us. His father stood apart.

"Good news, old man?" Ben asked.

"The best."

I broke free from the pack and hugged him.

"You're a gift, Alexia. Thank you." Mr. Cobb let go of me and went to the door.

"You're welcome to stay," I said.

"No, you need your rest, and I prefer a hot breakfast," he smiled, touching my cheek.

Ben put his hand out to him and got pulled in for a hug.

"You're beyond luck, boy."

"It's hereditary."

"Fair ladies, I bid you adieu," he said as he left.

"You were both rude to Jean," I said to my sisters.

"What did you expect us to say? Correct her or question her? We rolled with it. She was enchanting and a delight. I hope she gets her own comedy show," Irene said.

"In other words, we're sorry. We were on our best behavior for his dad. Two people stretched our limited capacity," Eleanor said.

Irene rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Your dad is quite a charmer. What happened to you?" Irene asked, looking at Ben.

"I've spent my life surrounded by no bullshit women like you: tough, smart, and sexy. They don't fall for flirts, have no tolerance for empty compliments, and view men as prey. They like to get into the mud, splash around, and wake up dirty."

"Doesn't everybody?" Irene asked.

"Not Eleanor. She likes high rollers, fast cars, and gullible men," I said.

"Mae West supposedly had a theory about men: find them, fool them, and forget them," Eleanor said.

"Eleanor added another
f
word, but not in front of the kiddies," Irene said.

"My poor children. I will have to shelter them from their wanton aunts," I said.

"Explain our behavior, right after you discuss the circumstances surrounding your etchings in the boudoir," Irene said.

"Save the newspapers, too," Eleanor said.

Would I ever learn not to blush? Due to my pregnancy, Ben hurried to get enough sketches of my parts to make a portrait. I posed, and he filled pages with my breasts from every angle. The paper added more fuel for the bonfire to be built the day our children were born.

I packed up leftovers for them. My sisters gathered their coats, air kissed us, and left.

"Claws are sharp and on call. No one gets the last word with those two," I said.

"They make a great tag team."

"What did Jean say to you?"

"One of the most blatant propositions I have ever received." He smiled and scratched his head.

"This from a man who spent years painting nude women."

"She asked me if I had waxed because she preferred unshelled, salty nuts with her tequila."

I started to laugh.