47 #FamilyInheritances

 

July 17, 2017
Monday

[3:23 PM]TEDDI: It’s Monday.  Have you completed your Twitter assignment for the week?  I haven’t seen any posts from @hashtaghero.

 

That was because Jon hadn’t done the whole assignment.  Following a Bon Jovi fan had been easy enough and was taken care of while she was passed out the other night.  He was following several fan accounts now but hadn’t posted anything yet, mostly out of stubbornness. 

 

[3:24 PM]TEDDI: If you plan on finishing it and collecting your reward this evening, just let me know what time to expect you.

 

With his car parked in front of a suburban New Jersey house, Jon contemplated the phone screen.  A glance at the house’s closed front door told him the occupants hadn’t yet realized they had company, so he took a moment to tap the call button.

 

“Well, hello there.  I didn’t imagine I’d actually speak with you.”

 

There was a smile in her voice that got him smiling, too.  “Yeah.  I know I’ve been an asshole not calling or texting all weekend.  Sorry.”

 

In honesty, it had been an intentional retreat.  He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way their last encounter left him feeling.  Possessiveness and jealousy weren’t familiar or welcome emotions, especially when he didn’t quite understand the woman prompting them.  She spun from a basket case to fiercely confident to mildly neurotic so fast that it was hard keep up, much less predict.

 

He still hadn’t pinpointed why she sent him away yet, either.  Yes, he should probably just accept it at face value and let it go, but it circled back to not understanding her.  What woman didn’t try to spend every possible moment with someone she called her fantasy?  There was something strange there, but he’d decided to take a breather before pursuing it.  There was always the possibility that the alien concepts of possessiveness and jealousy were trying to smuggle insecurity into his psyche, too.   

 

After considering things off and on for couple of days, he’d decided that insecurity wasn’t in his DNA.  There really was something out of place, and to discover what, Jon needed more information about the woman who was gradually consuming more of his time and thoughts.  That’s why he’d made the trip out to suburbia this afternoon instead of sending a courier to handle a missing signature. 

 

“That wasn’t what I was inferring,” Teddi chided gently.  “You told me you wouldn’t be available.  That removes all implication of assholery.”

 

An involuntary snort of laughter snuck out before he could catch it.  “Assholery” was about the last damn thing he ever expected to hear out of the proper Dr. Montgomery’s mouth.  That and “circle jerk”. 

 

“Implication of assholery?” he repeated, still laughing.  “That’s a new one.”

 

"I’m glad to provide such a seasoned man with something unique.  There’s another uniquity waiting if you make that Twitter post."

 

Only she could make "uniquity" sound so seductively tempting, but Jon wasn’t ready to commit until after finishing this errand.  Then, maybe he’d manage not to mind fuck himself out of enjoying her company. 

 

"Can I get back to you on that in about an hour?  I've got something to take care of right now."

 

"Yes, of course.  At your convenience."

 

That convenience phrase rubbed him the wrong way.  It was a reminder that she let the Peabody family dictate her self-worth, thereby renewing his annoyance at Endicott Peabody and company. 

 

"Hey.  Did you hear from Peabody?  The lawyers won't give me a straight answer on why he thinks he can make an offer on your share of the company."

 

"No.  Endicott and Deidre have been oddly silent, but Pierce said the offer wasn't technically from Endicott.  His wife, Muffy, was named as purchaser on the contract, so I suppose that’s his way around the will’s purchase clause." 

 

Jon bypassed the fact that people were really named Muffy in favor of a more immediate point of interest.  "When did you talk to Pierce?"

 

"He stopped by on Saturday."

 

While he was fucking around in a studio with Shanks this weekend – and moronically questioning his capacity for insecurity – Pierce was making motherfucking house calls.  It was Jon’s own fault for doubting himself, but accepting blame didn't do a damn thing to quiet the blood pounding in his head.  It did, however, remove all good sense.

 

"Did you fuck him?"

 

Her strangled laugh of surprise didn't give him the remorse it should've.  He didn't care if it was improper or uncouth or what the fuck ever, he still wanted an answer to the instinctively blurted question.

 

"Jon!"

 

“What?  It’s a reasonable question.”

 

“No, it’s not,” she countered in a voice that reminded him of his third-grade teacher in Catholic school.  “Considering I told you that the chances of that were astronomical.”

 

"Yeah, but he doesn’t know that, does he?"

 

The clipped sigh came close to making him regret what was starting to infringe on "assholery".  Close, but no cigar.  He'd laid claim to her in that shower.  That entitled him to know whether the old boyfriend was making a move.

 

"I’m fairly certain he does."

 

“So that’s a no on the fucking, then?”

 

“Hard no.”

 

“Did he try?”

 

He expectantly waited for her to deny it, but all that came over the line was a quiet, "I don't understand you sometimes."

 

"Join the fucking club."  Jon didn't understand himself at the moment – or her.  The reminder of that brought him back to curbside in Tinton Falls, New Jersey, where he tried to coax his blood pressure under control.  "Listen, I gotta go, but I'll be over in a couple hours.  Okay?"

 

"I'll see you then."

 

Teddi’s acceptance held the same enthusiasm she’d give a root canal appointment, but Jon didn’t apologize.  He’d make it up to her, he reasoned when snagging a manila envelope from the passenger seat.  Maybe he'd have a better read on things after his visit with her cousin.

 

It was with that hope that he strode up the brick walkway and steps, passing by heavy hanging ferns to confidently punch the bell.   There wasn’t much of a wait before the sunny yellow door swung inward, but he hadn't considered was that Tori might not be the one to answer.  A petite teenage girl was the one giving him a speculative once-over.    

 

"My mother is going to shit and die," she announced with a flatness that stole the tension from his shoulders.  This he understood.

 

"We all gotta go sometime," was his sage observation.  "Is Tori home?"

 

"Mo-oom!"

 

"Stop screaming, I'm right here."  The woman he’d come to see had question marks in her eyes when edging her younger version aside.  "Can't say I expected to ever see you on my front porch."

 

Flashing a smile, Jon held up the envelope.  "Slight problem with the contract."

 

"Damn.  You're not going to give me the Hall tickets, are you?"  Her sigh was more like a huff as she stood back and gestured for him to enter.  As only mothers can do, she simultaneously gave the lingering girl a sharp look.  "Don't you have somebody to FaceTime with?"

 

Her unintimidated offspring returned the glare without reply.  She instead chose to address Jon with a smile and lazy wave. "Since my mother is so rude, hi.  I'm Shea."

 

"Nice to meet you, Shea.” His chin tilted up in greeting.  "I'm Jon."

 

“Oh, she knows who you are.  She's just being a pain in the ass."  Puckering her lips for an air kiss in Shea’s direction softened the insult but didn’t stop Tori from shooing the girl.  "I love you, but go away."

 

"Ugh.  Fine, but can I at least get a selfie before he leaves?"

 

Jon took the lead on that one with the assurance, "Absolutely.  Since I still owe your mom, we'll do them both before I go."

 

Appeased, she threw up a casual hand and took off in the opposite direction from the room Tori guided him toward.

 

"My house isn't as fancy as Teddi's," she explained without apology.  “But it’s home.  Have a seat.”

 

He navigated to the leather sofa and assumed an end cushion, while taking note of the knickknacks, plants and photos scattered on the wooden tables.  Those were what gave the place a personality, which was enhanced by the old upright piano against the wall.  The ornamentally carved mahogany front made him think it was an expensive antique. 

 

“Your place is comfortable.  I like it.”  Angling himself toward the end of the sofa Tori had claimed as her seat, he admired, “Nice piano.”

 

“Thanks.  It belonged to my grandmother.”

 

“Oh yeah?  Same grandmother that raised Teddi?”

 

“Yes.  The infamous Grandmother Peabody, who was the original organist for Grandfather’s church.   The piano was for practicing hymns on weekdays.  So I’m told, anyway.  He died before I was born, so the only time I ever saw her play it was Christmas, when we’d all sing carols.”

 

“It’s beautiful.  Do you play?”

 

“Me?” Tori asked with a hand to her chest before laughing.  “Oh, hell no.  Teddi’s the musical prodigy in the family, but since I wanted Shea to learn, she insisted that the piano come to me.”   

 

“Teddi plays?”  That was an interesting and unexpected bit of information, as was the bit about the grandfather having a church.  From the stories he’d heard, nobody would never suspect that those Peabodys had been anywhere near a church, much less have their own.

 

“Teddi plays brilliantly.  She had a sycamore Steinway until moving to Jersey.”

 

“Sycamore?” he quizzed with a hitched eyebrow.

 

Tori grinned.  “Beige.”

 

“Naturally,” he drawled with amusement.  “Has she ever worn colors?”

 

“Mm…”  His hostess squinted at panoramic photo hanging above the piano with contemplation.  “Not really.  A few pastels here and there, but Grandmother thought subtlety was a virtue, so she poisoned Teddi against bright colors.”

 

Thinking of the boudoir, Jon wouldn’t say poisoned.  Teddi was just subtly rebellious, hiding it behind locked doors.  He guessed if no one else knew, then she held onto some of that virtue?  Was that why she did it?

 

He couldn’t ask that question to Tori, obviously, so he instead folded back the flap on the manila envelope.  “So, about the contract…”

 

“You lowballed me.  I want Hall of Fame tickets.”

 

She was as unapologetic about her demands as she was her home.  Jon didn’t take offense, he just chuckled when withdrawing the short stack of papers. 

 

“Your signature is missing on one of the pages.  Take care of that, and then we’ll talk tickets.”

 

Expressive brown eyes rolled behind her glasses, and for the first time he noticed that she wore a Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes shirt with her denim shorts.  A well-worn one, at that.  Not only wasn't Tori's house as fancy, Tori herself wasn't as fancy as Teddi.  Nor was she as flamboyant as the Gypsy cousins.  She looked like a comfortable Jersey girl and talked like one, too. 

 

"Oh, Jeez.  Of course I’d fuck up a multi-million dollar deal.  Let me find a pen."

 

"Got one right here."  Dipping back into the envelope, Jon passed over the ballpoint that was inside.  "The page is flagged."

 

She obligingly flipped to the correct spot, darting a glance at him when leaning over the coffee table to affix the necessary signature.  "Not that I don't appreciate the visit, but why the hell are you here?  Was Pierce too busy to schlep this out to Jersey?"

 

Pierce wouldn’t be handling anything related to Jon or his business ever again, but there was no need to mention that.  As fascinating as the visit had been so far, he still had another item on his agenda.  That’s why he played it light.

 

"You threatened the guy's beard with fire and marshmallows.  They wanted me to pay extra for protective gear before they’d send him, so I brought it myself."

 

"I always knew you were a cheap bastard," she teased, finishing the signature with a flourish and pushing everything to his end of the table.  "But you're also a stand-up guy, so I'm sure you're going to get me those Hall tickets."

 

"Gotta get in first."

 

"Teddi will get you in."  The declaration was issued with utter confidence.  “And as a show of appreciation, she should be invited.  Even if you’re going to be a cheap prick and not throw tickets into the Peabody’s deal, you still ought to let me take Teddi.”

 

Taking the ideal segue that Tori offered, Jon leaned forearms on his knees and asked solemnly, “You think she’d go?”

 

She frowned thoughtfully and shook her head.  “Honestly, there’s no telling.  I hope that she would but going out….  Let’s just say it’s not her thing.”

 

“I noticed.  Has she always been that way?”

 

This time the shaking head held more emphasis.  “No.  Teddi says she’s always had anxiety issues – and living with Grandmother, I can see how that might be true – but they didn’t become outwardly noticeable until later in life.  From my point of view, she became reclusive when her husband died.”

 

When she found out about the husband’s gambling woes.  There was no reason for Jon to know that, however, so he didn’t focus on it. 

 

“What was your grandmother like?”

 

“Stern.  Demanding,” Tori supplied without a second thought.  “She loved her family but held us to a ridiculously high standard.  An approving nod was the equivalent of God’s personal blessing, and let me tell you, they didn’t come often.  Teddi got more than most, but she worked hard to earn them.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Jeez, the list is endless, but if I had to pick an example….  Teddi didn’t talk much as a little girl.  When she did, it was with a terrible stutter.  A speech therapist was out of the question, because you know, what would the church congregation say?”  Her disdain was palpable and carried into, “Instead, Grandmother made Teddi recite ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ over and over every day.  A single stutter got her reprimanded and punished.”

 

Jon almost didn’t want to know but couldn’t keep from asking, “Punished how?”  

 

“Oh, get that look off your face,” Tori ordered with dry humor.  “Grandmother didn’t beat her, for crying out loud.  Teddi got sent to her room with a King James Bible as her sole source of entertainment.  Little girls don’t consider that to be a great source of entertainment, so Teddi worked her ass off to ditch both the stutter and the Bible.  She succeeded and earned Grandmother’s approval, but to this day Teddi won’t say ‘The Lord’s Prayer’.”

 

Maybe Tori’s perception of her cousin’s reclusiveness was a little too personal, because from where Jon sat, it didn’t come out of nowhere after her husband’s death.  Grandmother dearest planted that seed.  She was the one who taught a little girl that solitude was the solution to her problems – or to avoid beratement – and the realization was a lightbulb moment for Jon.  It was the answer he’d come here seeking.

 

He didn’t think Teddi sent him away the other night to avoid some kind of imagined reprimand.  She sent him away for the solitude to solve a problem.  Now all he had to do was figure out what problem, which could be accomplished by simply asking her. 

 

“Can’t say I go around reciting ‘The Lord’s Prayer’, either.  Mostly because I don’t remember it,” he said lightly while tucking the contract back into its envelope.  “Thanks for the family stories and the signature.”

 

“Sure.  Sorry about the signature thing, and thanks for the Hall of Fame tickets.”

 

Her grin was completely irreverent as they both stood, leaving him to shake his head.  If he didn’t promise her the damn tickets, she’d end up badgering him to death between now and the end of the year.  Might as well get it done and over with. 

 

Jon was just opening his mouth to seal the deal when the photo over the piano caught his eye.  She’d been looking at the panoramic shot earlier, and now that he was standing, the subject matter was easily recognizable. 

 

“Yankee Stadium?  You’re a Yankees fan?”

 

“You better believe it,” she returned with a mischievous smirk.  “Word of advice.  When you get an official Instagram account, don’t be a jerk.  Answer a question here and there instead of snubbing everybody.  It makes you more likable.”

 

I’ll be damned.  She’s that guy from Instagram who’s always giving me hell.

 

Before he could call her on it, however, she turned and shouted into the depths of the house, “Shea!  Get your cute butt in here for selfies!”

 

It was official.  Jon liked Tori.