Chapter Twenty-eight: Getting Ready

11 Jan
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

Starting a new year. Hopefully no one  gets seriously sick or dies this year. Except in fiction. Thank you everyone for your patience.

It was almost noon when L C entered the house. She had not thought about what to expect. What she did not expect was Amy, the maid looking up at her and saying, “Oh, great. Someone else to get in my way.”

The two of them had never spoken together much but L C had never realized the maid resented her. The discovery was a surprise.

“Sorry. I will try not to.” was all L C could think to say, with a half smile.

“Just be careful. If you fall down and can’t go with them I’ll be blamed.” Amy pointed to a section of the floor that had just been mopped.

L C frowned. “Thank you. I will be careful.”

Bixby was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking upwards. He was surprised to see her and said so. “I thought you had plans for the day?”

“I did but they didn’t work out. What is wrong with Amy? She about bit my head off.”

“I’m afraid she is a reverse snob. She wants to go, can’t say I blame her, and she won’t so she see’s those of us who are going as thinking we are better than she is. We don’t see ourselves as better than she is but she does.”

“Huh?” L C thought she would never untangle the politics and snobbery of rich people’s servants.

“L C!” A little voice rang out and suddenly there was a flurry of short skirted happiness bounding down he hallway and into L C’s arms.

“I knew you’d come. You couldn’t stay away. Yipee.”

L C picked the squirming bundle up in her arms, laughing.

“You gotta help me pack everything. I need lots and lots.” she squirmed out of L C’s arms, grabbed her index finger and started pulling her toward the stairs.

“What on earth is going on?” asked L C

The little girl put her finger on her chin as though there were a big secret afoot. “I think it must be spies or something. One minute everything was normal and the next mommy and daddy were running all around and around saying we gotta go to Europe.”

L C made a big “O” of her mouth and said, “Well how mysterious.” And let herself be led upstairs.

“L C, can Rocko go?”

“I totally don’t know, honey. We will have to ask your mommy.”

Guinevere’s bedroom was a little girl’s dream castle. It struck L C Funny that a little girl whose wealth rivaled any monarch from the past, whose access to modern conveniences made any medieval princess life seem like uncomfortable poverty, should be entranced by the story of Cinderella. She kept the joke to herself, never mentioning it to anyone else.

Mrs. Langlin entered. Today her hair was jet black and cut Jackie Kennedy style sans pill box hat.

“Oh. You are here. Would you be a dear and go help Bixby while I explain to Guinny that she is only allowed one suitcase.” There was, of course, no question in the tone of voice, only in the words.

“Can Rocko go, Mommy?”

“Afraid not this time, Little Miss. He would have to have special shots, and all kinds of things we do not have time for. Maybe next time.”

“I’ll get my aunt Emerald to sit him. Rocko and Tabby love to sit and bark at each other.” It always made L C laugh to see a tabby colored parakeet and a gold and white chihuahua sitting on the floor barking at each other.

“That would be good.” Replied Mrs. Langlin.

Downstairs she found Bixby looking every centimeter the butler. Next to him was an overweight man who eyes drooped as though he did not have the energy to pick them up properly. His natural expression was no expression. Poker faced. When he did change expression, such as when Bixby introduced L C To him, his expression seemed to go through a planning stage before they took effect on his face.

L C Decided she did not like him.

“It is a cussed nuisance,” he was telling Bixby. “On such short notice my secretary could not even get first class tickets for the Langlins. She was lucky to get all of you aboard the same plane.”

“You say it is not a direct route?”

“No. There are some change overs. They will still be there sooner than if they waited. Not to mention the reduced luggage.”

“So much for the privilege of being rich.” Joked Bixby.

“Rich is relative, I am afraid. The really rich can afford their own private jumbo jets. Have them at their disposal twenty-four seven. Right now one a quarter that size would be sufficient.”

The two men shook hands and parted. The heavy-eyed man looked at L C As though evaluating her character, nodded, then departed.

“Who is that?” asked L C.

“Lawyer. His main skill is keeping things out of court. Not that he lacks skill in court, but he seldom lets things get that far.”

“Should he have been discussing the Langlin’s wealth with you?”

“He never says anything to me I don’t already know. I never say anything to him he does not already know. Otherwise it would be difficult for us to talk to each other.”

(c) 2014, All Rights Reserved

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