An inquisitive man was one day met by a friend who cordially hailed him:
"Good morning, my good fellow! And where do you come from?"
"From the museum, where I have just spent three hours. I saw everything there was to see and examined it carefully. It was all so astonishing that honestly I am not clever enough to describe the half of it. Nature is certainly wonderful in her rich variety! There are more birds and beasts than I ever dreamed of - not to mention the butterflies, dragonflies and beetles - some green as emeralds and others as red as coral! And there were tiny little gnats too - why, really, some of them are smaller than the head of a pin!"
"And of course you saw the elephant? What did you think of him? I'll wager you felt as though you were looking at a mountain!"
"Elephant? Are you quite sure that they have an elephant?"
"Quite sure."
"Well, old man, don't tell anybody—but the fact is that I didn't notice the elephant!"
~ Ivan Krylov, The Inquisitive Man: a Russian fable (translation)
Wine poured and glasses filled.
“So, you know?”
Sip. “Yup.”
“Who told you?” Sip.
Seth’s head nodded in the direction of the croquet game. “The elderly Westcott statesman on the left a few days ago.” Sip. “And you?”
Scott’s finger pointed at a player on the promenade. “The elderly Garrett statesman on the right… also a few days ago.” Sip. “And telling us makes them both either shoddy confidants or crafty foxes.”
“Well, I will have to say, your grandfather is rather ambitious when it comes to surprise wedding gifts.”
“This is only one in a long line of surprises my grandfather has ambitiously gifted over the years.”
“Those are two fine ladies out there.” Sip. “And we are two fortunate gents.” The reflective tone of Westcott’s statement steered the conversation.
“Fortunate, indeed.” Setting back in his chair, Scott studied his business partner’s profile whose outward appearance suggested that of an engaged spectator enjoying a well-maintained grassy area’s competition. “Let’s keep it that way.”
“Meaning?”
“Perhaps we should discuss the elephant in the room.”
“Fair enough.” Seth turned to rest his elbows on the table, hands clasped. “I’m not going to lie. The strained relationship with my mother hangs by a thread and that thread is Westcott Vineyards. Finally cutting her loose would be a relief… ”
Scott let Westcott’s pause dangle briefly before providing the proverbial - “However.”
“Right.” A sigh spoke of reluctance to name the elephant. “However, I need to know how much of a favor Harlan Garrett is truly providing us with his financial sickle. Buying out Roberta Westcott would make him, considering the speed in which Boston lawyers move through their gifting paperwork, a rather influential investor for a period of time.”
“Ho-ho, Phillip! The young ladies have got us on the run!”
Scott squinted in the direction of his grandfather’s voice echoing across the field while remembering the slow process of settling Fletcher Garrett’s will. “That is a fact and justified concern.” Mirroring his friend’s sitting posture, Scott settled forearms on the table and returned his attention to the conversation. “Grandfather always has good intentions… ”
“However.” Grin.
A cocked brow applauded the toss back of Scott’s previous verbal nudge while a raised glass toasted Seth’s humorous stab at an awkward situation. “However - ” Sip. “Those good intentions can be overshadowed by his personal agenda.”
“And what do you believe your grandfather‘s good intentions are for this go round, other than a surprise wedding gift?”
“Well, I think he sees Roberta Westcott for who she is -”
“A society parasite.”
“Actually, I was going to say a drain on the family business.”
“Same thing.”
Scott’s pout pondered Westcott’s reasoning for a moment before reaching a conclusion. “Noted.”
“And the other side of the coin? Your grandfather’s personal agenda?”
“I believe it’s to ingrain his presence back into my life.”
“And also be ingrained in the little lady’s?”
“Yes.” Sip. “And yours.”
Phillip’s throaty guffaws bounced through the air as he swung an arm over the shoulder of his reacquainted boyhood friend. Scott’s directed nod chose the winery’s proprietor. “And his.”
Seth took in the scene. “Can’t say when was the last time I’ve seen Grandfather this happy. Makes it hard to say no to Mr. Garrett’s proposal.”
“I take it Kinsey isn’t aware.”
“She is not. And, truth be told, there lies my concern above all others. We vowed never to keep secrets between us. And this -” Westcott’s finger tapped the table as if Harlan’s written proposal laid in front of him. “This is one goddamn big secret.” Sip.
“You’ll get no argument from me. There’s a fine line between a secret and a surprise. We’re currently tripping over it.”
“Tell me, what makes him so confident he can successfully convince my mother to sell her shares of the vineyard?”
“You, sir, are a scoundrel!” Kinsey’s good-natured shout singled out Harlan as the recipient for a disputable move on the playing field.
The gentlemen’s side glances across the table spoke to the ironically-timed moment.
“Out of the mouth of babes thou has ordained strength.” Seth executed a sheepish shrug, tempering his pious declaration. “One of the few times I didn’t doze during Father Patrick’s sermons.”
“My Sunday morning pew-snoring sat my backside in hot water more times than I care to remember.” A new round of laughter from the croquet players prodded the elephant to leave the room, but not before it planted a brain itch of previous spoken words: shoddy confidants or crafty foxes. Damned if Scott knew for certain.
“Well, I have to say- ” Sip. “ A fella would be hard pressed to think up a surprise gift that could run a close second to your grandfather’s.”
“Right.” Clearing his throat, Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “However… ”
Stockton, California
Westcott Vineyard
The purchase of a Boneshaker for my little cousin took on a much needed role for me that I had not anticipated: an amusing distraction in a surprise gift counterbalancing the concerning cognizance of a secret.
“You’ve got it!”
Emily’s shout of Boneshaker-balance victory for Kinsey resounded to where Scott sat earlier with Seth. His cousin had insisted she’d not retire for the evening until mastering the Velocipede.
“Brake! Brake!”
Scott grinned at the gentleman chasing his bi-wheeled runaway bride-to-be down a vineyard lane while no doubt rethinking his choice for a best man.
I bow to Seth’s decision regarding the “if” or “when” to tell Kinsey her uncle’s confidential plan involving the buy-out of Roberta Westcott. A plan which I’m certain, knowing my grandfather, will have little to do with “if” - leaving my imagination to conjure up the scenarios of the “when.”
Even though joyously announcing to all at the supper table that her headache brought on by the questionable etiquette of croquet had passed, Roberta Westcott’s condescending disposition continued. Through it all, Kinsey’s smile never faltered. I commend her fortitude, but it also leads me to believe she’s quietly plotting the murder of her future mother-in-law. I’ve begun rehearsing what to say as a character witness at the trial.
The aroma of after-meal smokes drifting from an open window conjured up a mental picture of the two elderly statesmen relaxing in the hacienda’s study.
This evening the patriarchs of the Westcott and Garrett legacies served as attentive, gentlemanly bookends to The Smiling Cobra as she dined while occasionally spitting out her back-handed compliments aimed mostly at my little cousin. It was then when the elephant in the room returned with the answer to my brain itch. These two men, boyhood chums from Beacon Hill, aren’t shoddy confidants or crafty foxes. They’re mongooses.
“There you are!” Emily’s sly smile seated itself at the table. “Hiding?”
“You observed the look on Westcott’s face when I presented Kinsey with the Boneshaker. So, yes. I’m hiding.”
“Oh!” The lady’s focus rested on Scott’s journal. “I’ve interrupted.”
“No, not at all. Only jotting down a few thoughts.” The author closed the cover on his writings. “Done.”
“And may I ask, sir, what thoughts are presently having dimples parenthesize your grin?”
“I’m thinking -” Scott rose and held out his hand. “I promised a lovely lady a moonlit stroll through the vineyard.”
“Lancer!” Seth’s voice rose from somewhere amongst the grapevines. “Come here and convince this cousin of yours that having her fiancé ride a gifted contraption from Hades would not be extraordinary!”
A brow furrowed. “On second thought, Miss Browning -” Scott turned his back on the business partner’s demand for assistance. “Perhaps it's best we begin our stroll on yonder well-maintained grassy area.”
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