Funeral with a View (7 page)

“And Ricky, whatever you
do, do
not
call my father ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Maddox.’ He prefers ‘Colonel,’”
Catherine said as we drove into the wilds of Chesterfield, NJ.

It was the day of the Big
Sunday Meet and Greet Dinner. My fingernails were jagged, throbbing remnants of
keratin.

Nervous? Me?

Nah.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted, only
half paying attention. I didn’t want to end up in a swale or wrapped around a
tree. Wouldn’t have been a good first impression.

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah, I’m listening.
Don’t call your pops anything but ‘The Colonel.’ Gotcha. I’m concentrating on
keeping us alive. Not used to the roads back here.”

“Good. Oh! There it is.” Catherine
indicated an unassuming copse of trees. “Turn right by that white mailbox.”

“Sir, yes sir!” I flipped
on the blinker and made the turn.

Catherine scowled. “Don’t
be a dick.”

“
Moi
? A dick? When
am I ever a dick?”

“You can be a dick when
you really set your mind to it.” She pinched my thigh.

“I would ask you kindly
to please not accost your driver whilst he is driving, Admiral. Besides, I’m
your
dick. Aren’t you the lucky one?”

“Don’t be a wiseass. This
is serious. I’m really nervous about this, Ricky. My parents aren’t like your
mom. They’re not quite as,” she looked up in thought, “free spirited.”

“You say that as if it’s
a bad … holy shitballs.”

Casa De Maddox came into
view. The house my then-girlfriend had grown up in was a mini-plantation; a
humongous two story home complete with ivy-covered brick, white-trimmed
windows, a three car garage that resembled a barn, and a lawn any country club would
envy.

I whistled. “Where’s the
golf cart?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I navigated up
the winding drive, past a kidney-shaped pond. “Are there actually fish in that
frigging thing?”

“Not anymore. It’s just
for show. Mom said it was too much of a pain in the ass keeping them alive.”

“Yes. I can imagine what
a cross to bear that must have been, the poor woman.”

I hummed ‘We’re In The
Money’.

Cat gave me the finger.

I stuck out my tongue.

Having parked in the
circular driveway, we walked up the lavish stone steps toward a large, white
double door nestled under an awning.

“You guys don’t have a
butler or anything, do you? A Butterworth? A Renfield?” I hunched over and made
a hump out of an upraise shoulder. “An Igor?” I pronounced it ‘Eye-gor.’ Catherine
looked at me as if I was a visitor from another planet. Or Pennsylvania. “You
know, Igor? “There wolf, there Castle.””

“You’re weird.”

“I know.”

She shook her head,
sighed. “Anyway, wiseass, there is no ‘Eye-gor’ or Butterworth or anything like
that.” She smiled the smile of the wicked. “There is only Butch.”

“Butch?”

Just then the door
opened. Still hunched in my best Marty Feldman pose, I’d been totally
unprepared for the massive brown and black hellhound bearing down on me. By the
time I glanced its way, it was too late. It pounced on me.

“Jesus Christ,” I
squealed, and fell to the ground.

A feminine voice came
from inside the house. “Butch!”

Catherine laughed. “Ricky?
Meet Butch.”

“Butch! Heel!” came the
female voice from inside the house again.

“Help! It’s gonna tear my
throat out!” I was trapped under at least one hundred pounds of canine wrath.

“Oh, don’t be such a
baby, Ricky,” Catherine said through a fit of giggles. “Haven’t you ever seen a
German Shepherd before?”

Butch’s rough tongue
slathered my face, but through sheer force of will, I was able to speak through
the assault of doggy kisses.

“Is he just tasting me
before deciding if I’m good enough to eat?”

“I doubt it. You’re too
thin.” Catherine got down on one knee and Butch came to her immediately. “Hey Butchy
Butch! How’s my little puppy, hmmm?” she cooed, tickling his ears and accepting
his slobbery kisses with a smile.

I stood and wiped dog
spit off my face. A woman who could only be Catherine’s older sister stood
grinning in the doorway. Other than slightly lighter skin and blue eyes, she
and Cat may as well have been carbon copies. Even her hair, which she wore in a
short bob ala Rachel from
Friends
,
was the same strawberry blond.

I extended my hand. “Um,
hi. Jude?”

“Got it in one. You may
want to wipe off that hand before I shake it.”

“What? Oh, right.” I
rubbed some dog slobber on my shorts. Nothing but class.

“That’s better.” She
winked and we shook hands. “You must be Rick.”

“Hope so. If not,
someone’s been really pissed about their SAT scores all these years.”

“Pleased to meet you,
Rick. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I’m sure you have
.

“All of it good, I hope?”

“Some good, some bad,
some
very
good.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“The good and very good
are all true. But I vehemently deny the bad.”

“Too late. Part of the
historical record now.”

“Hey Jude, don’t be so
cruel.”

“And you were doing so
well,” she sighed. “But you’re pretty cute, so I’ll let that slide.”

“I can live with that.”

“Good.” Jude stepped
inside. “C’mon in, guys. The parental units are waiting out back.” She stooped
down and patted her thighs. “C’mere, Butch! Inside! There’s a good puppy.” Butch
tore ass back into the house, his deadly claws clacking on the hardwood.

Catherine took my hand
and kissed me on the cheek. “Not bad, Ricky. Nice entrance. Sorry I didn’t warn
you about The Beatles thing, though. That really chafes her ass.”

“You saying you didn’t
leave that out on purpose?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“I’ll make you pay for
that, woman.”

“Promises, promises. Come
on. Let’s go in. Don’t want to keep Mom and Pop waiting.”

Squeezing her hand, I let
her lead me into the Maddox compound, hoping my altercation with Butch would be
the only hiccup.

“Man, this place is
fantastic.” The house was full of warm colors, comfortable furniture, and all
the trimmings. “What’s that room?” I pointed to a pair of mysterious doors off
the main hallway.

“That’s Dad’s study,”
Catherine said. “He’s got a small library in there, some collectibles, the
whole nine yards.” She squeezed my hand. “How’re you holding up?”

“So far so good.”

“I bet they’re on the
patio, raring to go. It’s right up here, through the kitchen.”

“Mom, Dad! They’re
heee-eeer,” Jude yelled as we stepped out onto the deck.

Must not chew nails. Must
not chew nails.

Mary Jo Maddox turned
from where she’d been setting up the picnic table. She had on a large sun hat
and sunglasses, just like my mom wears. Her face lit up when she saw Catherine.
Waving, she walked toward us.

I thrust my hands in my
pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet as mother and
daughter embraced.

“How are you doing?” Mary
Jo whispered in Catherine’s ear. I detected a slight southern accent.

“I’m okay, Mom. Where’s
Dad?”

“He had to take a quick
phone call in his office.”

I could see where the
sisters’ resemblance stemmed from. Although curly auburn hair spilled from
underneath her hat, Mary Jo Maddox was an older version of her two daughters,
from the small nose that turned up slightly at the end, to the full lips, high
cheekbones, and dimpled chin. The Maddox women were three of the same person,
age the only difference between them. The conspicuously absent Colonel was
indeed a lucky man to be surrounded by such beauty.

I cleared my throat, more
than a bit uncomfortable at the unspoken dialogue the two communicated with
their eyes.

“Um, Mom? Our guest?” Jude
to the rescue.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mary Jo,
noticing me for the first time, inspected me from top to bottom, much like my
mother had done with Catherine. “I’ve forgotten my manners. Mary Jo Maddox.” She
offered her hand and forced a cordial smile. “Cat and Jude’s mother. But I’m
sure you figured that out already.”

Her hand was cool despite
the heat.

“Richard Franchitti,” I
said, trying out a smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Maddox.”

“Call me Mary Jo, please.
Do you prefer Rich? Richard?”

“You can call me Rick, or
Ricky. Just don’t call me Shirley.” I winked.

Jude snort-laughed and
Catherine stifled her own with a hand. After a moment of confusion, Mary Jo’s
face opened up in a genuine smile. “You’re funny … Rick. And handsome to boot.
I can see why my daughter fancies you.”

Fancies? Did people still
say that? Probably a southern thing.

“Thank you, Mary Jo. You
have a beautiful home by the way. Almost as beautiful as the lady of the
house.”

From behind Mary Jo, Jude
put a finger in her mouth and crossed her eyes.

Mary Jo had an altogether
different reaction. She blushed.

Major points for me.

“Aren’t you a charmer,
Rick? Flattery will get you everywhere.”

I raised one side of my
unibrow. “Not laying it on too thick, am I?”

“It’s entirely too much, but
I’m not complaining.” Catherine’s mother showed me an impish smile and I felt
my tension fall away by a sizeable margin.

“I calls 'em as I sees
'em. I can certainly see where your daughters get their good looks from.”

A deep voice resonated
from behind me. “They sure as hell didn’t get them from me, son.”

So much for being
relaxed
.

While it was apparent
Catherine’s mother was making a concerted effort to not hate the guy she
assumed had defiled her little girl, the bulldog of a man whose steely eyes
bored into me did nothing to hide his disgust.

“Hey, Daddy.” Catherine hugged
her father, and Butch plodded over, tail wagging as he sniffed his master’s
shoes.

“Hey, Kit Cat.” Patrick
Maddox hugged Catherine with powerful, hairy arms, his gaze unwavering. He
stared at me with barely concealed contempt. I stared back. We were locked in a
visual game of chicken and I had no intention of swerving first. “Your mom
didn’t let all the food burn while I was inside, did she? It should be done
soon.”

“No, I think it’s safe.
Daddy, this is—”

“I know who it is,” he
said gravely. The tension crept back. Butch whined.

“Rick Franchitti. Thanks
for having me over, Mr. … Colonel. It’s great to finally meet you. We should
have done this sooner.”

The Colonel regarded my
hand with eyes so pale they bordered on gray before taking it in a crushing
grip.

Yep. This man is gonna
be a hard sell

Without another word, The
Colonel marched over to the grill where dancing flames had already been working
their culinary magic.

“He’s a charmer,” I
whispered. “Kit Cat?”

“If you ever call me that
again, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Catherine and I joined
Jude and her mother at the picnic table.

“Want anything to drink,
Rick?” Jude said. “Maybe something fruity? With a teensy-weensy umbrella in
it?” I glared at Catherine. How much detail had she gone into about poker
night? Catherine shrugged her apology then fixed a venomous glare on her older
sister, who volleyed with a shit-eating grin.

“Um, I’ll take a beer if
you’ve got one. Thanks.”

Jude skipped into the
house, and not long after she returned with my Negro Modello, The Colonel had
gathered up an abundance of charred mammal flesh and set it on the table.

Catherine inhaled deeply “This
smells great. Thanks for cooking.”

“You’re welcome, Kit Cat.
We have a guest after all.” He glanced at me, and I realized from whom my
girlfriend had inherited her death looks. The beauty was Mary Jo, but the evil
eye was all Big Daddy. “Go on, then. No invitations here. Dig in, folks.”

Sir, yes sir. We loaded
our plates and dug in as ordered.

“So,” Mary Jo said. “Cat
tells us you’re in graphic design, Rick?”

I swallowed a mouthful of
Mary Jo’s potato salad. Almost as good as Mom’s Epic, but don’t tell my mother I
said that. “That’s right. I work for Colbert & Colbert Advertising in
Princeton. Been there about three years now.”

“I’ve heard of that
firm,” The Colonel said. “They have a good reputation.”

Brownie points for me.

“That sounds like a good
solid job,” Mary Jo said. “Do you like it?”

“Love it. Something
different every day.”

“Would we know any of
your clientele?”

“Not sure. I have one big
project right now. A placed called Helena’s Heaven out in West Windsor.”

“Oh, I know that place!” Jude
said. “That’s a top end lingerie store and adult boutique.”

The sound of birdsong and
mosquitos meeting fiery death in the bug zapper magnified tenfold in the
silence.

“And how would you know
about a place like that, Jude?” The Colonel grunted, his eldest now the focus
of his evil eye.

Jude rolled her eyes. “Daddy,
I’m not a nun, you know. Rob has gotten me quite a few gifts from there
before.” Rob was Jude’s fiancé. Helena’s wasn’t cheap, but judging by the size
of the rock on Jude’s ring finger, I doubted that was an issue.

Mary Jo Cleared her
throat. “Jude works in West Windsor. She teaches English at the high school.”

I’d known that already.
Catherine told me a while ago. But even if I hadn’t, the ‘English Teachers Do
It In School’ T-shirt she wore would have tipped me off to her profession.

“Did you go to college
around here?”

“Sure did. Ryder.”

“Ryder,” The Colonel
said. “Good school. I was a Princeton man, myself. Speaking of which,” he took
a bite of hamburger, some of which remained in his mammoth moustache as he
spoke, “how is Bill doing these days, Kit Cat? Haven’t spoken to him in a dog’s
age.”

Catherine tensed, and
Jude—who I’d quickly learned to be a troublemaker of the highest order—seemed
uncomfortable and paid extra attention to her summer sausage.

“Bill’s doing fine last
time I checked. We haven’t seen him since the holiday.”

“Next time you do, tell
him I said hello, would you? You know, Rick, Bill’s father and I go way back. I
met Bill at a Princeton alumni dinner while he was playing football. Before his
injury. Always liked that Bill. There’s a man who’s going places. He’s some hotshot
financial advisor a little ways north isn’t he? Somerset, if memory serves.”

There was no doubt in my
mind that The Colonel’s memory was in perfect operating condition. I picked up
on the subtext. He preferred Bill for his little girl to a guy like me. Maybe I
didn’t fit into his ideal boyfriend template. Bill helped people turn millions
into more millions. Me? A lowly graphic designer, working his ass off to climb
my way up the corporate ladder. Something told me that even if Catherine hadn’t
become pregnant, I still wouldn’t be good enough for his Kit Cat.

“Yeah, that Bill. He’s a
real go-getter. I guess I have good taste in best friends.” I took a big pull
of my beer.

Mary Jo smiled her good
hostess’s smile. Jude and Catherine remained quiet.

“Mind if I use the
bathroom?”

“Not at all, Rick.” Mary
Jo pointed to the house. “Go straight through the kitchen. First door on the
left.”

~~~

I dried my hands, turned
off the light, opened the bathroom door ...

And walked directly into
The Colonel. He stood in the hallway, hands on hips, moustache an angry
upside-down V.

“Jeez, you scared the crap
out of me.”

“Come with me for a
minute, son.” He turned his back and walked off.

Right.

I followed him through the
mysterious double doors and into his study. Time for a cigar and a bit of
brandy? I doubted it. But, determined as I was to make everything go as
smoothly as possible, I shadowed him without protest.

The room impressed me
with its great view, dark wood trim, large desk, built-in bookshelves, and wood
burning fireplace. No stuffed animal heads tacked on the walls. I took that as
a good sign. Nearly every square inch of wall space was covered in awards,
degrees, military decorations, and above all, family photos.

The Colonel walked over
to a portable bar and pulled out a bottle. “Bourbon, Rick?”

“Sure.”

I browsed the multitude
of pictures while he fixed our drinks. Many were of him decked out in full
military uniform, taken both in various states and abroad. The mantle above the
fireplace held what seemed to be his favorites; they were the first you noticed
when setting foot in the room. Shots of his girls crowded the surface, and
there was one of a much younger Mary Jo in an extravagant gown, crown on her
head, a sash over her shoulder.

The Colonel handed me a
glass. “That’s my Mary Jo. Miss Texas back in the day. She sure was a looker.”

“Still is.”

He pulled a frame from
the mantle and handed it to me. It was discolored with age. Three people sat
atop a tank: The Colonel, smiling like he was the king of everything, with two
of the world’s cutest little girls on either side of him.

“That was taken when I
was stationed in Fort Hood, Texas. It’s my favorite.”

“I can see why. It’s a
fantastic picture, sir … Colonel.”

Moustache tilted at an
angle (his version of a smile), he returned the picture to its rightful place,
then sat behind his desk, carefully placing his drink on a coaster. “Have a
seat, Rick.”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll
stand. You’re not going to pull a
Cocktail
and offer me money to stay
away from your daughter, are you, Mr. Maddox?” I skipped The Colonel bit on
purpose. Stormy eyes bored into me, but I stood my ground. “Because if that’s
what this is about, you can forget it. You don’t like me. That’s obvious.”

“Rick—”

I help up a hand.
“Please. Let me get this out in the open.”

He sat back and gave a
small nod.

“Let’s face it. This is a
shitty situation. You know it, I know it. You’re pissed. Rightfully so. I’d be,
too, if I were you. If I had a daughter, and some punk guy got her in the same
fix, wringing his neck would be my top priority. But I’m not some punk guy. I
may not have a Princeton pedigree, I may not come from money, I may not have
served my country, but I’m nuts about your daughter.”

Having gotten that off my
chest, I swelled with pride. I was also scared shitless. My hands shook
slightly while I downed the bourbon and set the empty glass on an end table.

“Is that all, Rick? You
done?”

“No, I’m not.” I took a
deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. “I won’t let you intimidate me. I plan
on sticking with Cat for as long as she’ll have me. Although I’d like it more
than just about anything else, you and I getting along isn’t necessary. What
is
necessary is that we at least act like it in front of your daughter.”

Heart thundering in my
chest, I did an about face and left.

~~~

Three sets of eyes locked
onto me, four counting Butch’s.

I wiped sweat out of my
eyes, hoping they’d assume it was the heat, and sat down at the picnic table.

“You okay, Ricky? You’re
so sweaty.”

“Peachy, Cat.” So much
for blaming the heat. “We’ll talk about it later.”

The patio door opened
then crashed shut. Cat, Jude, and Mary Jo looked up at the same time. Butch
cocked his head to one side, tail between his legs.

The Colonel started in
before he was even fully in his seat.

“Now, you listen to me, son,”
he growled, pointing a sturdy finger at me. “We’re not done yet. You don’t back
down and I respect that, but if you think you’re just going to waltz into my
house and talk to me like that, you’ve got another thing coming. I will
not
be
disrespected in my own home.”

Catherine and Jude asked
The Colonel to calm down. Mary Jo remained silent.

“I
am
calm. What
did you expect, Rick? You come in here for the first time after being with my
daughter for over six goddamn months, three days after I find out you got her
pregnant, mind you, and I’m supposed to what? Welcome you with open arms?”

Cat shot out of her seat “Daddy!
I’m at fault here, too. It’s just as much my fault as it is Rick’s and—”

“Be quiet, Catherine, ” he
said, face red. “This is my house. I’ll speak when I damn well please and I’ll
say what I damn well please. If lover boy here had kept it in his pants, we
wouldn’t even be having this discussion.”

“Pat, shut up would you?”
Mary Jo said.

“I will not—”

“Patrick! Shut. Up.”

The Colonel glared, his
jaw working overtime, but he said nothing further.

“I suppose it’s time we
talk about the giant elephant in the room,” Mary Jo continued, calmly. “All
this posturing and beating around the bush is getting us nowhere. Rick, I
apologize for my husband’s outburst. But surely you can understand why he’s
upset?”

“Of course I’m fucking
upset!” Butch tucked tail and ran. “Jesus Christ, Mary Jo. They’re just kids.
They’re not even married.”

Mary Jo slapped an open
palm on the table. “Neither were we!”

Catherine and Jude
exchanged confused expressions. The Colonel’s furious eyes narrowed.

Mary Jo wiped her mouth
and set the napkin aside. “I won’t lie to you, Rick. I’m not jumping for joy
over the circumstances. Do I wish things had taken a more traditional path?
Certainly. My husband makes a good point. You two are awful young. But this
isn’t the end of the world.” She laid a hand on The Colonel’s shoulder. His
moustache twitched, but his breathing visibly slowed. “Pat’s upset because this
all hits a little too close to home.”

“Mary Jo …”

“Really, it’s okay, Pat.”
She smiled warmly, then turned to me. “Did you know I was Miss Texas a lifetime
ago, Rick? Some said I had an excellent chance of making a run for Miss
America. It was all I wanted in the world. Or so I thought until I was swept
off my feet by a handsome Army officer.”

“We’ve heard this story a
thousand times, Mom,” Catherine said. “You quit because you lost interest after
meeting Dad.”

“That’s part of it. But
there’s more.”

“Honey,” The Colonel
said, “maybe now’s not the best time for this.”

“Can you think of a
better time? I sure can’t, and anything less would make us hypocrites. No, this
is the perfect time.”

Catherine leaned forward
in her seat. “Mom, what are you trying to say?”

“I didn’t give up the
pageant because I wanted to start a family. I
had
to because we’d
already started one.”