Monday, June 3, 2013

Ch165 Dressed for Dinner, part one



            
 
          “Honey, I’m home!” Simon called out as he held the door open for Ronnie and Morris Kramer. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he looked up and saw his grandmother dressed to the nines descending the stairs as she clipped earrings to her lobs. “Va-va-voom, Grandma! That’s some dress. Are you going somewhere special?”
          Marty giggled and passed a bejeweled hand down her sequined gown needlessly. “I decided to dress for dinner. We should celebrate that I’m not dead and, after all, we are entertaining a guest, are we not? He did come I hope,” she said, her heart sinking a little at the thought.
          “Oh, yeah, he’s here. Ronnie’s helping him to the door,” Simon said.
          “Why does he need help?” she said, just as her eyes fell upon Morris Kramer coming through the front door, leaning on his cane while Ronnie held his arm for support. Her heart gave a little jump that time.
          “Watch the last step, Profess…” Ronnie said. “I mean, Mr. Kramer.”
          “Thank you, Ronnie, there’s a good lad,” Mr. Kramer replied. “You may have just landed yourself on my short list.”
          “Uh…short list for what?” Ronnie asked, helping him off with his coat.
          Morris Kramer might have answered had he not looked up and seen a vision or possibly a figment of his imagination. “Martina?” he whispered. “Is that you?” He blinked several times, vaguely wondering if he had fallen asleep or gone to heaven.
          Marty smiled. “Hello, Morris. I’m surprised you still remember me,” she said, slowly descending the rest of the stairs until she was an arm’s length away from him extending her hand in greeting. Morris took it automatically and stared at her.
          Simon looked from one to the other, Morris gaping incredulously and Marty smiling almost in triumph. “You know each other?”
“Remember you, Martina? Are you kidding? I…” Morris stopped, reluctantly dropped her hand and turned an annoyed expression to Simon. “Is this the grandmother you were talking about? Why didn’t you tell me she was Martina Phillips?” he growled.
          “I…well, I didn’t know her maiden name for one and…does it matter?” Simon asked.
          “Of course it matters!” Morris snapped.
          “Why?” Ronnie asked, hanging the peacoat away. “Are you enemies?”
          Marty laughed. “I don’t know. What do you say, Morris. Are we enemies?”
          Morris belatedly removed his tweed cap and smoothed down his hair. He glanced down at his rumpled clothes and wanted to kick himself. Why the hell didn’t someone tell him this was a formal type event? He looked decidedly red about the face all of a sudden, miffed and—although no one could tell—tongue tied.
          “Where do you know Mr. Kramer from, Gramma?” Ronnie asked.
          “Oh, way back…grade school I think. Or was it high school? Morris?”
          “Uh…yes…no… I mean…” Morris stood gripping his mahogany stick as if he’d like to bash someone on the head with it.
          “Mr. Kramer!” Violet shouted happily. She rushed forward and hugged him warmly. “It’s so good to see you again. How have you been? Did the operation go well? How does your knee feel?” She looked into his face and her smile vanished upon seeing the expression on his face. “Oh, you poor man! Come in and rest. You must be in such pain!”
          Morris allowed her to take him into the living room and away from Martina, if only to give him some time to regain his composture. There he saw  Victor who stood up from his easy chair as they entered, folding his copy of the Wall street journal and setting it aside. “Hello, Mr. Kramer. Good you could make it.”
          “Thank you,” Morris said a bit stiffly.
          “Come sit, Mr. Kramer. You must be exhausted,” Violet insisted, taking his arm and steering him to the comfy couch. She plumped the pillows and offered him a seat. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
          “No need to fuss over me, Missy. I’m not an invalid…not yet anyway!” Morris snapped.
          Violet and Victor exchanged looks and had themselves a silent conversation.
     “Oh, dear, he’s his old grumpy self again,” she seemed to say.
     “Yes, but you’ll fix that as you always do, so don’t worry,” he replied with just a look. Out loud he said. “May I offer you a drink, Sir?”
“Whacha got?” Morris said.
“There’s lemonade and iced tea, soda and coffee and…” Violet answered.
“No hard stuff? You must have something…”
“Scotch straight up,” Marty said, coming into the room and regally sitting just opposite Morris, artfully crossing her ankles and smiling at him. “Your favorite still Johnny Walker red, Morris or has your taste matured since last we met?”
“Yes, it is.” Morris stared at her stunned. “I mean was.”

“I prefer Chivas now, but I think Victor may only have Dewar's white. If that’s all right with you, Morris?” Marty asked. 

When he mutely nodded and smiled again, Marty glanced at Victor. “I’ll have the same, Victor, dear.”
“No, Marty, I don’t think your doctor…” Victor was cut off.
“My teenaged doctor isn’t here now, is he?” she replied, then she cast a insolent look at Violet who still hovered around Morris. “You still here? Shouldn’t you be cooking or something, Girly?”
“Um…yes, of course,” Violet said. “Mr. Kramer, can I get you an ottoman for your leg?”
“Stop with the fussing! I said I’m fine. Just need a stiff drink in me,” Morris said, casting a furtive glance at Marty and quickly looking away.
“Are you certain alcohol won’t interfere with your own medication, Mr Kramer? You must be on some strong pain meds,” Simon asked.
“You may be pre-med, young man, but that don’t make you my doctor,” Morris retorted.
“No, it does not,” Simon said, smirking, “but I’d like to stay on your list and keep you alive for as long as possible.”
“Then you don’t understand the purpose of the list,” Morris stated as Victor handed him the drink and he took a large gulp, then another draining the glass and handed it back. “I’ll have another, thanks. And here I thought you were smart, Simon. You ought to take a lesson from your brother. Where is Ronald, anyway?”
“I think he’s hiding,” Simon said, just barely suppressing a laugh.
“Well, get him back in here and tell him to bring his guitar. I want to see what you’re talking about,” Morris said. “Ah! I see there’s a piano in here. He can play that for us.”
“Yes, Sir,” Simon said, obediently leaving the room.
“Um,” Violet said, looking to Victor who was pouring another drink. She went to him and whispered, “What do you think? Bad idea asking him here?”
Don’t think so. Go on back to the kitchen and don’t worry. I’ll handle things here or die trying!” he said quietly.
She laughed and left. When she entered the kitchen she nearly fell to the floor having just collided with a skulking Ronnie. “Ronnie, what are you doing in here?”
“Nothing,” he said, grabbing her and making certain she wouldn’t fall. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Well…yes, but Mr. Kramer wants you to play for him. I’m surprise he knows about you. How did that happen?”
“Simon and his big mouth. I should kill him!” he snarled.
“Oh, that’s nothing to worry about, Ronnie,” Violet said, stirring a pot and then another. “Go on and play a little on the guitar for him. He really could use some cheering up. I haven’t seen him this grumpy since the first time we met him.”
“It’s weird. He was really happy all the way here. He and Simon were getting along real good, but as soon as he saw Gramma… I guess he doesn’t like her much.”
“Really?” Violet said, replacing the cover on the pot and setting the spoon aside and opening the oven door. “These are done. Can you get the shredded cheese out of the refrigerator for me, Ronnie?”
“Sure. I didn’t even know they knew each other. Did you?” he asked as he handed her the cheese.
She set the casserole dish on a cutting board and kicked the oven door closed with her foot. “Marty told me she did. She didn’t like his wife, that’s for sure.”
“Why not?” he asked as the bell rang on the timer.
“Ooh, rice is done!”
“I’ll do that for you. You take care of the rice,” he said, grabbing the cheese out of her hand….

....Continued when I get the chance!




©2013 Glory Lennon All Rights Reserved
 


2 comments:

  1. Leaving us hanging. It's unconscionable I tell ya!

    Now we won't know what happened to the rice and cheese until chapter 336!

    ReplyDelete
  2. LOL, indeed you are not the only one riveted it seems!

    ReplyDelete