Roadblock XII
by Myra Love
  Article # 260 Article Type: Fiction

The next morning was a busy one at work. We had three funerals, and that meant that I didn’t get a chance to talk with William all morning. Instead I wrote my condolence note to Chester Green and spoke with the family of Loretta Miller, a young mother killed in a car crash. Her funeral was scheduled for the afternoon, and her sister and brother-in-law wanted to know what I thought about having her four-year-old twins attend. I thought they were too young and said so, and Leanne, Loretta’s sister agreed. Burl the brother-in-law wasn’t so sure, but he said he was willing to abide by my advice. Burl and Leanne were taking in Loretta’s children since her husband had died in the same crash. His family had taken him back to his hometown in Tennessee for burial. I wondered if the twins would have any contact with their father’s family as they grew up. I suspected they would not. The thought made me sad, but I kept it to myself. As Burl and Leanne left, they discussed babysitting arrangements. I sighed and went back to my office where the phone was ringing.
“Marian,” I heard Anita’s familiar voice say firmly, “I need you to attend a mediation hearing next week. Right now it looks as if it will take place on Thursday, but it may be earlier.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I demanded.
“Laurel’s divorce is final. She got the papers early this morning. Shortly after she called to tell me, I got a phone call from Dennison’s lawyer. They want to settle the matter of the ‘sculptural writing implements in question’ was how he put it, and they want to do so as soon as possible.”
“Does Handsome know that the issue is going to mediation?” I asked.
Anita coughed. “Apparently it was his idea.”
“He obviously never recovered from that blow to his head,” I mumbled loud enough for her to hear me.
“Or he has more confidence in my fairness than you do,” she replied.
“I have every confidence in your fairness, Anita,” I protested. “What I don’t see is how Handsome can expect you to call a pen a sculpture.”
She chuckled. “Come to the hearing and you’ll find out.”
“I have to work,” I objected. Unlike you, I have not retired.”
“William and the Tonys can handle everything, I’m sure, Marian. And I need you to be present to speak to what occurred at Laurel’s house when we were there.”
I snorted disdainfully. “You don’t need me to speak to a damned thing, Anita. You saw and heard everything yourself.”
“Still,” she persisted, “it would be helpful to me if you were there. In the interest of fairness.”
“Hogwash!” I barked. “You probably just want a ride into town so you don’t have to take the taxi.”
She chuckled. “Some taxi!” Then I heard her take a deep breath. “Yes, a ride into town would be helpful as well,” she admitted. “However, even if you don’t drag your tired, old bones all the way out here to fetch me, I’d appreciate your presence at the hearing.”
“Who are you calling tired and old, Anita Carswell?” I retorted.
“Not you, Marian, just your bones,” she said.
“Well, let me think about it,” I offered, sounding as irresolute as I felt.
“Don’t shilly-shally on me, Marian Euler,” Anita ordered. “What would it take to make you attend the hearing?”
“Well,” I began.
“A very deep subject,” Anita interjected.
“First of all, you could stop saying that every time I say ‘well’,” I snapped at her.
“And second of all?”
“I want to hear the rest of Laurel’s story. You told me she came to fountain pen use through adversity, but all I’ve learned is how her marriage to Handsome foundered.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Anita snapped. “Come out here for dinner on Saturday and I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”
“Fine!”
“And come to the hearing on Thursday. Or on whatever day Laurel, Dennison, and Dennison’s attorney finally choose.”
“On Thursday for sure,” I agreed.
“And on the other days for sure as well,” Anita insisted. “Stop shilly-shallying!”
“I don’t shilly-shally!” I retorted.
“Well then, what do you call it, hemming and hawing?” Anita teased.
“Sometimes you are very annoying, Anita,” I said.
“And you’re stubborn, but that shouldn’t stop you from attending the hearing so justice can be done.”
“Justice? You certainly think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” I taunted her.
“No more than you do of yourself,” she replied, not in the least chagrined.
I grumbled a bit but did not disagree.

Because the workday was busy it passed quickly. I had a chance to exchange just a few words with William before he left for the day. He listened gravely to my brief summary of my conversation with James and told me not to worry that James might make a fool of himself with his address at the reception.
“He’s an adult,” William said, patting my arm. “And if the composition is good enough to win first prize, those in attendance will focus much more on the music than on his words.”
William’s reassurances didn’t help as much as they usually do, so I refrained from telling him about Andrew, Laurel, Handsome, and Paula. He seemed preoccupied by his own affairs, and he didn’t seem to notice my reticence.
It wasn’t until I got home at the end of the day that I remembered how Anita had asked me to fill her in on James’ composition and the prize. I was tempted to call her, but I decided that the news could wait until I saw her on Saturday. I settled down to a light dinner, did my dishes, and got out my pen and some nice paper to write my letter of congratulations to James.
At first I’d thought that the phone call was sufficient, but upon further reflection it seemed to me that a nice letter would still be a good idea. It didn’t take all that long to write, and I was pleased with my words. They seemed to flow more easily than was usual in my communication with either of my sons.
I addressed the letter, stamped it, and put it in my purse to be mailed the next morning on my way to work. I was contemplating a nice, hot toddy when the phone rang, and I had a chance to discuss everything that had been happening with Phoebe and Steven. They were affectionate and reassuring and told me they missed me and would like to return to Maui someday and show it to me. I was about to hear the story of their meeting someone who’d lived on the island before Hawaii was admitted as the fiftieth state when my doorbell rang. Andrew was standing outside, looking impatient. I should have ended my phone call and then let him in, but he looked so unhappy that I let him in first and then said good-bye to Phoebe. As soon as I put the receiver down, Andrew, still standing in the doorway, started to complain and berate me for preferring Phoebe to my own blood. I contemplated shoving him back out the door and locking up behind him, but I did not. Instead I stood looking at him as if I were observing a cartoon character. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, I just said, “Andrew, either come in and tell me why you’re here or go home!”
He looked at me as if I had said something incomprehensible, stepped away from the door, and walked into the living room. “You’re an unnatural mother,” he said, as he seated himself on the sofa.
I snorted. “Can your unnatural mother get you something to eat or drink?”
He flushed. “No, thank you.”
I chuckled. “Afraid I’ll poison you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is,” I contradicted him. “Now, what can I do for you?”
He stretched his legs and then crossed them, rolled his shoulders, and then announced, “We found Laurel’s cat Roadblock across the road from her at a neighbor’s house. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?” Andrew replied, looking confused.
“Why would I want to know?”
His confusion appeared to deepen. “Well, I, um, we, er… You seemed to like the animal, so I assumed you’d be glad to hear no harm had come to him.” He chuckled. “Though he hasn’t had an easy time of it the last few days, locked up in a closet like that.” Andrew nodded. “That’ll teach him to go breaking into houses though. Sly old boy that he is.”
I sighed. “All right, Andrew. Why don’t you tell me the entire story?” He obviously wanted to, though I suspected that wasn’t all he wanted.
“Well, you see, the Hallidays across the road from Laurel have a female cat. A show-quality Himalayan that they never let outside. They’ve been waiting for the right purebred Himalayan tomcat,” he chuckled again, “were hoping to start a business in purebred Himalayan kittens.” But Roadblock got into the house, and their prize cat is now mother of a litter of the most unbelievably homely kittens.” Andrew’s chuckle turned into a full laugh, as he slapped his thigh. “That tom is misnamed. He ought to be called Burglar, not Roadblock.” He laughed some more, but for some reason I don’t find Andrew’s laughter contagious.
“So?” I interrupted his hilarity.
“So, Roadblock sneaked in again. Maybe he wanted to check out his offspring, I don’t know. Frank Halliday caught him and locked him up in a broom closet. The rascal has been living on kibble and water. When Laurel and I went looking for him, Frank said they’d turn him over to us only if we took in the kittens and found them good homes. And we had to promise to get Roadblock neutered. Otherwise it was off to the pound with him.”
Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “For some reason Laurel is fond of that pesky cat, so we agreed to the terms and Roadblock will spend tomorrow morning learning to sing falsetto.” He chortled at his own humor. “There are three kittens in the litter. I’m taking one. Anita Carswell has agreed to take another. We were wondering if you would adopt the third.”
“What about Laurel?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “Well, she has Roadblock. And, er, well, once the remaining issues around her divorce are resolved, well, uh, she and I may consider, um, down the road…”
“You and Laurel are thinking about living together?”
“Well, old-fashioned as I am, I was planning to ask her to marry me first,” Andrew replied.
“But you hardly know each other!” I nearly shouted in my amazement.
Andrew scowled. “I knew my previous wives, and those relationships failed miserably. Laurel is, at the very least, an adult woman with a more mature attitude towards life.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Well, congratulations, my dear boy!” I said. “And I will adopt a kitten, but on one condition.”
His back stiffened. “What is that?”
“You and I need to get some counseling together. I cannot put up with your sniping and hostility any longer.”
He glared at me and looked as if he was about to say something obnoxious, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“Anita thinks it’s a good idea. And I’m sure Laurel would hate to have us on bad terms, as she is quite fond of me.”
He looked pained.
“Think about it,” I said. “And in the meantime, you can keep two kittens.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think we need counseling. I think you do.”
I stared at him, exasperated. “If not counseling, then mediation,” I suggested, hoping Anita would forgive me for wanting to embroil her in my family conflicts.
He thought about it and finally nodded. “I can live with that,” he replied, “on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“That is that the family business be up for negotiation. I still think James and I ought to get it after you’re gone.”
“But you two are not the least bit interested in running a funeral home,” I objected.
“Precisely,” Andrew said. “We will put an end to it, once and for all.”
I was shocked, I admit it. “But why?”
“A symbolic end to our remembered misery, mother dear,” he replied. “Do you think that we’d have wanted to go away to school if we’d had any other choice?” He stood up and began pacing around the room. “Do you have any idea how traumatic it was growing up as the sons of the town’s undertakers?”
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