"Little" Sister Pt. 05

Author's note: No sex this chapter. Nothing but politics, business and real estate.

Chapter 21 -- Deja Vu, but Not

What I intended to do had many difficulties. For starters, I was dressed to meet with high priced lawyers. For another, I was not about to expose Shadow to the south side. Most important, I was not about to expose Elspeth to Veronica, or vice versa.

To solve two problems at once, I told Elspeth to take Shadow to the garage and return with the Toyota. She did not want to go and I was not prepared to be frank with her. Rather than fight it, I decided to buy a car. I had been wanting another work car for some time. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Before we did that, Elspeth and I refitted me in an off-the-rack suit. I kept the silk top. It would look like an indulgence. A cheap briefcase and resale shop heels completed the step down. Looking in the mirror, I could see that Dr. Richards was still there. That said, a level was missing. It looked fairly good, but I could tell why it was second rate. I had learned a thing or two.

Next we went to the neighborhood used car lots. This was where an in-house mechanic was handy. He could listen to an engine and tell me the sticker price was bogus. It took about three cars before I could convince the salesman to give me a real price. In this, the term "cash sale" was magic. Even then it took some looking. To make a long afternoon short, I bought a 10 year old Infiniti with 110,000 miles for $7,200, including TT&L.

Since I could not convince Elspeth to leave me, I gave her a job. I asked her to go set up a face to face meeting with Adele Cabot. Elspeth understood I was getting her out of the way, but she allowed it. I think the idea of Boston's South Side scared her more than she would admit. Regardless, she and I parted at six PM, with plans to meet at ten. I hoped I could make it.

As soon as Elspeth was out of sight, I headed to a resale shop two blocks away. This was not my old neighborhood, but it was close enough I knew the major points. There, I bought an outfit—men's khaki slacks, golf shirt and, most importantly, a worn leather jacket. It was not quite my old ratty jeans and torn T-shirt, but there was a kissing relationship. The biggest differences were the heels and the posture.

To accessorize, I bought rings and hoops, to make my piercings more obvious, a bandanna for my hair and a dump-it-all-in purse. There would be no safety pins, but they would not have looked much out of place. This time, the mirror told me that I was crazy, but marginally prepared.

The meeting was at McCreedy's. This was exactly what the name implies, an Irish oriented Southie bar. I mentioned before that Veronica came across as Irish. I am Irish. It seemed a reasonable way to get her out of the old dives. Sure enough, when I came through the door, she had three guys draped all over her. I sang the line, "You can call me anything you like, but my name is Veronica."

Roni's head jerked around. At first she could not spot me, but my height gave me away. She said, "Oh my God. Jo, I heard you looked different, but I had no idea. Guys, this is Jo Richards."

This was an Irish bar, so I said, "It's Siobhan, if you can say it correctly. Roni, I have an actual car outside. Who do I talk to about keeping an eye on it?" We took a few minutes to get my new ride settled. Veronica noted the dealer plates. I told her about the Toyota and the Honda before it.

She asked about student loans. I told her not to worry. My time at Yale was covered by family money and scholarships, while my time at Dartmouth was on fellowship. I don't think Veronica ever appreciated how good I was at school, but no student loans got her attention. Interesting.

Eventually we settled in a booth, with drinks. I ordered Irish, with water back. I was drinking the water, but Roni was killing vodka martinis. She had slipped during my three years away. Still, I could use an edge, so I kept paying for more rounds.

My target was named Ariana Conor. She was leading a group of tenants in a lease renewal protest. I completely understood her point. The landlord wanted them to vacate so that he could raze the whole building. There was an episode of Cheers which was almost on point. Cliff tried to stay in his apartment, because he was there with his mother for so long. In the end, he recognizes it was a dump.

As with many other things, much of the protest ran through Veronica's hands, because she had experience dealing with the city and state authorities. One of my old associates at legal aide was backing up their lead attorney. My briefing from Morgan -- Brown -- Campo & Lynch had omitted that detail.

What I told Veronica was that MBC&L were hoping to settle quickly. This was not the sort of case they wanted to burn time pursuing. While that would mean fewer billing hours in the short term, it was worth a fair amount of goodwill with the client. There is a reason that some lawsuits are referred to as nuisance cases. Once she made up her mind to help, Roni had Ms. Conor on the phone in five minutes.

Thirty minutes later, three of us pulled in front of a much seedier bar on Boylston street. Veronica and I went inside. The third in our party was an aspiring hockey player, who would make fifty bucks looking after my "new" car. I had only had the car about four hours, but I was already attached. The heated seats and steering wheel would be perfect for New Hampshire.

We were barely in the door when someone called to Veronica. It was not Ariana Conor, but it made her easy to spot. I stayed by the door, while Roni talked to her. I could only read half the conversation.

Veronica said something. Ariana Conor snapped, "I don't give a fuck. Who's that with you and when is the rich bitch coming?

"Bullshit. That girl has bull dyke written all over her. She paid more for the shoes than the whole outfit she's wearing. I wonder if the nipples are pierced.

"No shit. She's wearing a bra now. And a stick up her ass. Did she walk around with a book on her head as a little girl. Seriously, who the fuck is she?

"Yeah, fine. She wants to pay for a round, her money spends. It ain't buyin' nothin' else. I ain't that easy and I sure the fuck ain't that cheap." I was beginning to like this girl.

Roni signaled me to come over. Instead of going straight, I went to the bar and laid a hundred down. I told the barkeep I wanted Irish with water back and a couple rounds for the table. We exchanged a look, then he shrugged and took the money. I took my drink to the table. Show time.

To open things up, I asked, "What kind of lies has Veronica been spreading?"

Ariana Conor was not the sort to let someone else speak for her. She glanced at Roni and her two friends, then said, "She claims you're some hotshot Ivy League megabrain, who's going to solve all our problems."

I laughed, "No wonder you thought she was full of shit. I'm not that smart. The rest is more or less true. A lot depends on you."

The barkeep came up with the first round of drinks. I could not read his lips, but he tilted his head toward me. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Ariana Conor gave him an irritated look, as if I were too small to worry about. Cocky thing.

Going on, "I had lunch today with representatives of Morgan -- Brown -- Campo & Lynch." Everyone at the table became much more serious. I went on, "I had to dress up, silk top and everything. It was at a place called le Bastille. Anyway, there was a message from David Campo himself. He wants to end this." I had their undivided attention.

"Now, let me tell you about myself. I have been living up in New Hampshire. I negotiated a quick settlement to a long running case in Manchester." I gave them enough details to look things up. Why lie when the truth helps? It was time to invoke scores of bad movies.

"Just to be clear, I am strictly a money conduit. If we can come up with an amount, that you will take and he will pay, this all goes away. For other alternatives, Mr. Campo would refer to other people." Never use the carrot, without showing the stick. Sheila would say, make the client handle the restraints.

I let them argue about it. Before long, Ariana shut things off. I had to give Mr. Campo credit. He had given me the name of the real decision maker. She shut everyone else up, then looked at me suspiciously.

She said, "Why should we believe anything you say?" I could not have scripted it better.

I said, "You don't. I hope you're smarter than that. Contact whomever you know at MBC&L. They will vouch that I am on retainer. Check my firms involvement in New Hampshire." I scribbled search terms on a napkin. "If I'm not an open book, I'm not doing my job. The only reason I'm here is that I know people like Veronica and Mimi Gonzalez. Call her up. She'll tell you I was half a step from Danvers and a lobotomy." Everyone thought that was funny. "That was because Veronica, here, dumped me one morning."

Yes, I know it was unfair. Yes, I bitch slapped Roni on purpose. Yes, I was serving my own point. All that said, I overdid things. No wonder Roni was sucking down vodka. Her guilt must have ridden heavy on her. She didn't crumble so much as shatter. I was out of the booth, to hold her, before anyone else realized how bad things were.

Somewhere in the three years, I had passed Veronica. When I was serving my time as an intern, she was the definition of control. She controlled everyone and everything else, just as much as she controlled me. Seeing her out of control was nothing like a day dream. It was scary as hell. Fortunately for my sensibilities, she melted into my embrace. I stroked her hair and told her all was forgiven.

After several moments, I became aware of all the eyes staring at us. I sat Roni down, then turned back to Ariana Conor. Her eyebrows were tented. I shrugged.

I said, "I have been told I don't know my own strength. If this was an example, I need to be more careful. Five years ago, Roni was leading me around like a puppy on a leash." I touched the ring in my nose. "She had me pierce this, so she could have her ring in my nose." That got a laugh from one of the guys nearby. I stood up, well inside his personal space.

"Don't laugh asshole. I'll break you in little pieces if you even think about messing with her. Try me. Right here, right now." He backed down, apologizing. No one fucks with my people, least of all a half-wit ass-kisser, like this dick wad. Ariana, and all her friends, looked amused.

I said to Ms. Conor, "My apologies. I doubt we can do anything else tonight. Have some people check me out. Roni can get a hold of me. She may be a heartless bitch, but she's my heartless bitch. Better yet, call Mimi. She has a meeting room we can use." How did I fuck a promising situation up so fast?

I took Veronica out of the bar and drove half a mile before I pulled over. We were in the heart of our old stomping grounds. I knew of three clubs within walking distance of where I parked, not that we would be going to any of them. Veronica needed help, not alcohol. Still, familiar ground is familiar ground.

I said, "Hey, you. I need some directions here. There's a church a couple of blocks up. Do you want to go to confession?" Veronica was almost as anti-Catholic as Madonna. It may not have rattled her, but I did get a reaction.

She mumbled something that might have been "Take me home."

I said, "Fine. Home it is. Do you still live in the same place, with your bitchy roommate?"

Her response was incoherent. The only thing I caught was a denial of my question. The last thing might have been a name. The next thing was more clear, though it took a lifetime of deciphering Sean to make it out. She wanted to know why I was being nice. I guess she felt guilty, because Roni did not used to be a maudlin drunk. I would have been willing to sort things out, but I needed to meet Elspeth. Stronger action was needed.

I said, "Veronica Lynne VanKampen, where is your apartment?" She reacted like I slapped her. A few minutes later we pulled up at her building. I was worried that I might have to carry her up five flights, but she pulled herself together, at least enough to climb the stoop unassisted. Her hands shook as she worked the keys, but she managed to get inside. In those last few seconds, I saw a trace of the feisty bitch that was my first love. You go girl.

Learning hurts, because some of your innocence has died. Veronica was no longer one of the monsters under my bed. She was my first love, my first real lover, my mentor and many other things. She was no longer a threat to my equilibrium.

Maturity sucks.

Chapter 22 -- Tea and Conversation

There was no time to dwell on it. I had my own follower to worry about. As soon as I thought of that, thoughts about myself vanished. I had sent Elspeth off, both of us knowing that I would be meeting an old lover. How could I have been so callous? Rather than risk Boston traffic, I phoned. Elspeth picked up on the first ring. Doh!

I had no idea where Elspeth wanted me to go. The GPS in my phone led me to a large house with an iron fence. Someone opened the gate as I drove up. In another context, it might have made a good horror movie scene. I parked the car in the drive and walked to the front door, past caring how I looked. The door opened before I knocked. A man, presumably the majordomo, held the door. I marched in to face the music.

Looking back, at no point did I think of Dr. Richards. In hindsight, that strikes me as unusual. It was rather like my meeting with the senior faculty, just before orals. I entered as Siobhan Richards. Whomever I met would not stoop to mispronouncing it.

She was a small woman, who reminded me a bit of Diana Rigg. There was the shrewdness you see in Game of Thrones, not to mention the wrinkles. I was expecting Elspeth's mother, but this could only be Adele Cabot. Fortunately she had Sean's habit of talking to herself.

She said, "I suppose I cannot complain about you wasting time." You might have chanced a bath.

I said, "My apologies. I felt that things were urgent. If you wish to lay out tea, I could change."

Mrs. Cabot pursed her lips. Not bad. Thinks on her feet. "An excellent idea. John will show you to your room." We will see what she considers presentable.

I said, "Thank you. I am afraid I have nothing appropriate, but I can improve on this. I was down south." I sniffed. "You can probably tell." That scored. Mrs. Cabot fought a laugh, though it looked rather like a frown.

She said, "Indeed. Such as you may. I shall await you." This is proving more interesting than I hoped.

I went to the car and retrieved my earlier outfit. John offered to carry the pile of clothing, which surprised me. I declined, with thanks. He led me to a room, with a half bath across the hallway. I did some perfunctory washing, concentrating on removing the make up. None was better than too much. I redid some eye liner and a slight touch of lip color.

The room, my room it seemed, was frilly in a preteen style. The drapery was blue gingham. The four post bed had a lace skirt, though the bed cover was hand embroidered and probably hand quilted. It would bring a small fortune in a knowledgeable auction. Once I noticed that detail, the room came alive. Everything in it was valuable, both by age and by quality. Sheila could die happy here.

My first thought had been that Mrs. Cabot wanted me off balance, hence the young girl motif. On further thought, I decided this was her regular guest room. She was "Grandmother" to all the well bred girls in Boston. This room told me she liked to have them sleep over, when they were ten to twelve years old. If time were not pressing, I could spend a day cataloging and analyzing the furnishings and brick-a-brac.

Instead, I changed back into my suit from lunch. It was wrinkled and not hour appropriate, but needs must make do. I removed most of the rings and replaced them with studs. One exception was the one in my nostril. We might discuss Veronica. If you have ever had to borrow a pen, when you should have had one, I felt like that. Reminding myself that perfection would not be good enough, I went back out.

She was sitting at a tea cart, with a lovely sterling tea set. Judging from everything else, it was potentially made by Paul Revere. That would make a nice teaching moment for the young girls, which made it a good place to start.

I said, "Thank you for waiting. That's a lovely tea set. Is it Paul Revere?"

I could read the gears turning in her head. Well. That was unexpected. "It is. Made in 1773. The china is a family heirloom, brought from England, though it is of German manufacture. Dresden." I nodded. She knows something of fine porcelain.

I said, "My sister-in-law would love this. The Residence was constructed in 1742 and enlarged in 1795, 1849 and 1967. Mother and Father essentially abandoned the old house when the new wing was complete. Sheila had the house refurbished for the wedding. We put it, 'Well made and enduring.'" That brought no reply, spoken or otherwise.

I decided to press my luck. "May I show you something?" My smartphone was already in my hand, but manners are important. I would have stopped if she said so. She did not, though her lips pursed.

"This is a scene from their honeymoon. It takes place on Guam, in a small tea house." I played the tea ceremony, between the young girl and Sheila.

Mrs. Cabot looked annoyed at first, but she was soon lost in the ceremony. The girl was about ten, the age Mrs. Cabot seemed to prefer. Sheila was Sheila, grace personified. Before the ceremony was complete, tears were running down Mrs. Cabot's face. When it was finished, I wanted to give her a moment to collect her thoughts. To that end, I busied myself pouring. Mrs. Cabot recovered with a smile.

"Thank you, my dear. Just a little lemon, these days. Dr. Jones thinks sugar is of the devil."

We drank in silence. Eventually, she realized I would not speak first. Full of herself, but she's rather earned it. Good sense of drama. Knows when not to speak, but not shy. Not dressed badly, but also not well. Knows it. Could do better. Could probably do much better. Appreciates fine things, but does not live for them. We saw she could get dirty when necessary. Poised. She's listening to me.

I winked at her. She slapped at me. Oh, you... "Miss Gracie, my nanny, said it was a bad habit many years ago. I told her Dr. Franklin used to speak to himself. It might have even been true."

We both laughed. She had John show me to a drawn tub. I bathed and washed my hair. There was a terrycloth robe with the towels and slippers on the floor. I put them on. On the bed was a nightshirt. I was out before my head hit the pillow. Morning came early. Elspeth was shaking me. Christine's wake up is much nicer.

Elspeth asked, "What did you do to Grandmother? She is never like this."

"Don't worry about it. I showed Sheila doing Japanese tea ceremony. She was impressed." That took time to unravel. It was one thing for Elspeth to be impressed with Sheila. It was something very different when the Arbiter of Style was also impressed.

I kissed her on the forehead. "Elspeth, you are at the grownup table now. Mrs. Cabot may have once been an unreachable star, but she's human. She is also a very good teacher. Look at this room. Anything you touch can be the point of a lesson. Students like you are why she does it."

From the door, "I might say that was presumptuous, but it also happens to be true. Siobhan, my dear, you must call me Adele. All my friends do." I thought Elspeth would faint.

The meal was not a traditional Irish breakfast (eggs, bacon and/or sausage, pudding (white and/or black), fried tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans and toast), but the cook had tried to incorporate some of that. We had poached eggs, bacon and broxty (something like hash browns), with a side of tomatoes and mushrooms, sautéed with rosemary. Coffee was strong and served with heavy cream. I would not be eating lunch.