The Hungry House (24 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY

From the time I awoke on Saturday morning, I simply could not wait for Paul to come home. As soon as I had eaten some fruit and yogurt and had coffee, I went through the shower, dressed, applied a little lipstick and headed for the store. While sipping my morning coffee, I had decided to prepare Alex's favorite meal for dinner--spaghetti and meatballs with salad.

I
usually loathed the chore of grocery shopping, but today I found enjoyed every detail. I had a list and crossed off items as I pushed my cart down the aisle--Italian-seasoned ground turkey sausage, check. Eggs, check. Italian breadcrumbs check. Parmesan cheese, check. When I finally arrived at the checkout counter, the young, good-looking, and blushing clerk seemed desperate to make some sort of a connection with me.

"So
--making dinner for the family, I see." He said as he worked.

"Yeah, that's right
. Kids love spaghetti." Brad, as his nametag indicated, shifted his eyes to my hands and saw my ring. That stopped the conversation. That's something in his favor. I knew with some it wouldn't stop them.

After returning home,
I spent some time studying for a class and found myself checking my watch every 10 to 15 minutes. Finally, after what seemed like ages, it was almost time to start cooking. First, I went for a walk, down the sidewalk on the winding road on which my home was situated for about a mile, through the park, and then back up. It felt really good to stretch my legs. Upon returning, I stood and drank a glass of sparkling water.

Paul came into the kitchen from his home office and kissed the top of my head.

"Hey, want some meatball help? These magic hands are yours." He was grinning wickedly, I called his hands "magic hands" in the bedroom.

"I don't know if I want to waste them on meatballs, but since it's for Alex, I guess it's all right."

We both washed our hands and put on aprons. I got measured the meatball ingredients for Paul and he stirred, eventually mixing with his hands. This gave me time to prepare the salad. I turned on a series of James Brown, beginning with "I Feel Good," loud. Brown was our official cooking patron.

Suddenly, an image of
Mom's lovely face was before me. How I wished Mom could be here, on this day, to have dinner with her grandchild. On the other hand, she would have been furious over what Frank had done to create the child. Maybe things had worked out for the best.

Eventually, the meatballs and sauce came out of the oven. And then t
he doorbell rang, and Paul ran to open it and let in Alex, swooping him up in a big hug.

"Hey, big guy. Your home. We missed you."

I peeked out from behind him to return Margaret's wave as she backed out of the driveway. Alex followed us into the kitchen and stood looking around, as if seeing the place for the first time. It was a beautiful up-to-date kitchen but not nearly as large or as grand as Frank's; there was no fireplace. It had only one oven, rather than two, and one large granite workspace, rather than two workspaces as in Frank's home. I had purchased a new, double-door refrigerator, but it was not the large, restaurant-style, refrigerator with glass doors, like Frank's. The floors were made of hardwood, not polished marble tiles. And, it was half the size. There were many differences, but I mentally counted the most obvious in my mind as I watched Alex gaze at everything with new eyes.

"I made your favorite dinner tonight
. Spaghetti with homemade meatballs."

"Thank you mommy."

Paul and Alex began setting the table in the dining room, and I brought the serving dishes. We said grace and began to eat.              

"It's good, Mommy.
"

Suddenly, Alex's
face became animated. Excitedly, he asked, "Have you ever been to the Genoa restaurant?"

I
opened my mouth to answer 'yes,' but Alex was too excited to stop for a breath.

"
-- because Frank and I went there today for lunch and I had pasta and scallops--and it was really good. We had such a great lunch. It was so much fun."

"That's nice, honey
. I've been there, and it's a really nice place with wonderful food. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." I said.

"Yeah, I
know
it's nice. Frank wants all three of us to go there together sometime.
Can
we, Mommy?" Alex was so intense that his sentence ended on an almost screeching note.

Oh, he does, does he
. In his dreams, I thought. "Of course, dear, of course," I lied. Paul's eyes met mine across the table. I knew we were both having the same thought: what was Frank up to now?

"Now, try to calm down and eat
at least some of your dinner."

Finally we spoke of other things.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

One afternoon, as I walked across the quiet Lewis and Clark campus after class, my cell phone rang.

"Hi, dear
. it's Margaret. How are you?"

"I'm fine
. And you?" I was instantly on the alert. Something was definitely up. Margaret rarely called my cell.

"Everything's great
. Listen, Frank wanted me to ask you something. He wants to take Paul to Disneyland on his next visit."

I
stopped in my tracks and was almost hit by a bicycle zooming down the pathway.

"Out of state? No way!"

"Well--that's what I told Frank. But, the thing is, he's already told Alex about his plans."

"I don't think that's true
. Alex hasn't said anything to me about it."

"He wouldn't
. Frank told him it was a special 'father-son secret'"

By this time,
I had reached the car. "This is just the sort of thing Frank likes to pull. He's always maneuvering behind the scenes."

Now, I
understood the extra sparkle that had seemed to be in Alex's eyes days after he returned from his first visit with Frank. It was the "special secret." "What am I going to do?"

"If you're even considering allowing him to go, and I'm not saying you should, I'll go along and be sure he gets back to you on time Saturd
ay. Plus, Frank's niece Grace is coming with Edward and his wife."

"Yes. I remember." The line went silent for a few beats while
I pondered, my mind racing, and Margaret waited.

"Are they flying commercially?
" I asked.

"Are you kidding?  They never fly commercially
--private jet." Margaret said.

I
sighed. "It sounds as if it's a done deal. And, if you'll be there and his niece and family--well--I guess it'll be okay. Frank's not up to anything is he? I mean, he's bringing Alex back, right?"

"I don't blame you one bit for worrying, but even Frank isn't arrogant enough to plan a kidnapping with four witnesses in tow."

"Yes. I guess you're right." After a few pleasantries were exchanged, the conversation ended, and I began the drive home.

Like the beat of a
drum, one thought pounded in in brain, all the way home: I hope and pray he's not that arrogant.

###

That night, after his bath and brushing ritual, I tucked Alex into bed. After he got into bed I retrieved Tolkien's
The Hobbit
from his bookshelf It was our second time through it. I decided this would be a great time to talk to Paul about secrets. I would have his full attention.

"Alex
, there's something I want to talk to you about before I start reading."

"Okay, Mom.
" Alex sat up in bed pushing his pillows up against his headboard.

"It's about secrets." Alex
's face turned crimson. He knew what this was about.

"Don't worry
. I'm not mad at you. In fact, I'm proud that you are able to keep secrets for someone you care about. You have a good heart, and you'll make a good friend and a good husband and father someday. Margaret told me about Frank's secret."

"But why
! That was between me and Frank!" I wondered how Frank could have insinuated himself into my son's affections so quickly.

"She had to, because Frank asked her to talk to me about the trip
. It's okay." She reached out to stroke Alex's cheek. He was already calming down, his face not quite so red.

"Everything's okay
. And, I
am
proud of your loyalty and ability to keep a secret for someone you care about," I said.

I
looked into his eyes. "But, there are some things you should never keep a secret from your Mom. You remember, we talked about that?"

"Yes, they talked about it at my school, too. You should never keep a secret that someone touched you, even if someone asks you to."

"That's right! Very good. That's one you should never forget. But, there's another one. I know Frank is special to you, and you feel you should do what he says. But, Alex, never, ever keep a secret from me about where he is taking you. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes
. But why does it matter so much?"

"I'm not saying Frank would
ever do this, but, sometimes, one parent kidnaps a child because they're mad at the other parent."

"Frank
would
never
do that."

"That might be so. But, for your mom
, as a special favor to me, will you promise that you will never keep it a secret if your Dad takes you out of Portland or talks about taking you out of Portland? Will you do that for me?  You see, Frank hasn't been a Dad very long, and he doesn't understand how important it is. But, later, he will."

"Okay, Mom. I won't keep a secret about where I'm going again
. Maybe if I explain it to my Dad, he'll understand?"

"No
. Don't worry about explaining it. Okay?" I opened the book at the bookmark. "Let's read now."

###

The trip to Disneyland in Anaheim went off without any complications, and Alex was delivered to my door in plenty of time for dinner on Saturday. Yet, I knew that Alex was changing because of the affluent lifestyle he was being exposed to. After his trip to Disneyland, he could not stop talking about the accouterments of the jet they flew in, a Bombardier BD-700, or about the Disneyland Hotel. He telephoned his cousin Grace twice after his return. I worried about the effect this was having on his character and personality.

I
tried to live well below our means mostly to save money for Alex's future but also because I wanted him to grow up with solid working class and middle class values. I had seen the way Frank spent money on nonessentials. His personal liquor bill alone was over $1,200 a month. I did not want Alex to live like that when I was gone.

A few day
s later, I telephoned John. I hated to burden him with my troubles, but he understood my situation as well as anyone. I explained the circumstances of the huge circus of a party to mark Paul's first visit with Frank and the trip to Disneyland, as well as my fears about the possible long-term effects on Paul of Frank's extravagant lifestyle.

He listened for a while and then spoke. "Be sure to
document all of this with your attorney and have him go to a judge stipulating that there be no more out of state trips. You never know where Frank might be going with this. You know, I met with him recently on a business matter, and I have to say that some of his comments were a little disturbing."

"How so?"

"Well, I, the way he talked you'd think that the two of you were in a relationship. I mean, he talks about the future--about vacations the three of you might go on, for example."

"That's bizarre
. I've never given him any reason to think that there's any possibility of he and I getting together. And what about my husband Paul?"

"That's just what I mean
. I think Frank suffers from some sort of a delusion about you. He seems to believe that you want to be with him. He really believes that Paul is in the way somehow against your will and that there are other obstacles that keep you from realizing your true feelings."

"I just hope I made the right decision in getting the child support."

"First of all, Vicky, you can't change the past. I am sure you know that in your heart of hearts. What is done is done, to use a tired old cliché. Besides, don't you think it would have been a little ridiculous to have the son of a billionaire and not be getting any financial assistance?"

"When I look at it that way it makes sense."

"The other aspect of this situation is that if you had kept Alex away from his father all his life, he might have decided at some point that he had missed out on knowing his father and been deprived of his birthright and his fortune. This way, he has a share in his father's wealth, and he will find out on his own as he grows up that there are some rather unsavory aspects to Frank. He won't feel that you are blocking him from anything that is rightfully his."

"Yes. I guess you're right. Thanks for the advice."

"Vicky," you seem very overwrought tonight. Is it too late for me to come over and keep you company for an hour or so?  I can talk about inane movie stuff for a while and bore you to sleep."

"You
could never bore me. But, I could use the company. Come on over."