It was a typical spring day. Cyril was on the phone, yelling at the person on the other end about something or another. Cedric wasn't paying any attention to his father. He was busy going through the accounting books, making sure everything was in order, like Cyril had ordered him to do.
"I swear, Cedric, if you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself!" Cyril yelled, slamming the phone down.
"Does that mean you're going to go through your own books, Pop?" Cedric asked.
"Of course not! I didn't pay for your college education just so I could go through my accounts! That's what you're here for!"
Cedric said nothing more, and continued his calculating. He had learned a long time ago never to argue with his father when he was angry about a business deal.
Cyril stormed out of his office and walked down the hallway. On his way up the stairs, he looked into the den, and found Sophia sitting on the couch, sewing on something. He walked over to her and just stood there.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Just mending the curtains," Sophia said, not bothering to look up. "They really need it."
"Why not call the Pigs to do that?" Cyril asked. "That's the trouble with you, Sofa Girl. You don't know how to live high! When you have this much money, you don't spend your time mending curtains! That's the servant's job!"
"It's all right, Mr. Sneer," Sophia replied. "I don't mind doing it. After all, Cedric does most of the cooking, anyway."
"Don't remind me."
It wasn't that Cedric was a bad cook, it was just that Cyril couldn't understand how in the world he preferred cooking to business. He often wondered if there could have been a mix up at the hospital when Cedric was born, but he knew that wasn't possible. Cedric had a lot of qualities that belonged to his late mother, and Cyril wouldn't touch that subject with a ten foot pole.
Cyril left the room and went back to his office. Cedric was finally finished with the books.
"Everything's all present and accounted for, Pop," he said, closing the final book he was working on.
"Good," Cyril said. "Now then, Cedric, clear out! I need to think of a sure fire way to make some money, and I can't do it while you're standing there doing nothing!"
Cedric shrugged, and left the room. Cyril wasn't really thinking about money for once. He was thinking about his late wife. Seeing Sophia mending the curtains brought back a lot of things, mostly memories from his past. Memories about his late wife. He didn't like to think about her. He figured the less he remembered her, the better, but that didn't always work. There were times when he just couldn't help himself. This was one of those times.
"Darn that Sofa Girl, anyway," he grumbled. "She just has to be the perfect housewife. And because of that she just reminds me of . . . ."
Cyril couldn't even bring himself to say his late wife's name out loud. He just sat there, drumming his fingers on the desk, when the Pigs came into the office.
"Excuse us, sir," Lloyd said. "But . . . . what are you doing?"
"What do you mean what am I doing?!" Cyril shouted.
"Well, you're sitting at your desk, and there's nothing on it to sign, or anything like that."
"I know that! I'm thinking!"
"About what?" Boyd asked.
"About a way to get three little piggies out of my office before I turn into the big bad wolf and huff and puff and blow them clear across the county! NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!"
"Yes sir, yes sir!" the Pigs shouted, and they raced out of Cyril's office as fast as they could.
Cyril calmed down for a moment, and sat back down at his desk. He turned towards the window, and stared out of it for a moment or so.
"Alone again," he sighed. "Naturally."