House Party

I'm often asked how I've come to have my man Jeeves. It's rather an odd thing in the US to have a gentleman's gentleman, especially if you work and are no one particularly rich or special. I acquired Jeeves when my grandmother, Clemintina Wickham Wooster died last month in England.

I've always enjoyed my grandmother Clemintina. She was mischievous. As a child I was sent to stay with my relations in England every summer. My family in England has always been well off and well connected. Although we don't possess any real property or titles or anything romantic like that, we are solidly in the upper sections of society there. If you call that society. In a Jane Austin novel, my family would be gentry.

At first it was rather a scandal, my mother marrying my father. He was a regular guy from Ohio. My mother was an exchange student from London. They met in college and one thing led to another.

My mother liked to tell the story of how my father was first introduced to the family. My father is a very earnest guy, unacquainted with the ways of the British aristocracy. By that I mean that he was not prepared for the absolute silliness of my grandparents.

My grandfather Bertram was still alive at that time and it had been said that if his man Jeeves (my man's grandfather) had ever left him, that within a fortnight all that would be left was a naked man crying in a crater. I was very young when Grandfather died, but I remember him as a sweet, kindly idiot.

My grandmother was quite a bit younger than my grandfather. There was a story about how once, in the company of her older sister, my grandmother was taken without leave from her girl's school and given an outing and then foisted off on Grandfather to take back to school. Apparently there was a contretemps about how to return her without being detected. The result of the affair was that Grandfather was required to give a speech to hundreds of little girls who delighted in taunting him. He claimed that the experience was so beastly that it put him off children for years. Grandmother said that on that day she was determined that she'd marry Grandfather, based upon the funny faces he had made.

When mother brought father home to meet the pair of them, he was expecting a very sober and stiff pair of English aristocrats. Instead both Grandfather and Grandmother were a bit hung-over from some party they had attended the previous evening and were applying the remedy of 'the hair of the dog.' Father often remarked that it was fortunate that my grandparents were financially independent since neither one of them was able to actually perform any real work.

My childhood was a normal American upbringing, punctuated by English tradition. For nine months of the year we lived in a middle-class suburb. My mother insisted on top notch private schooling, but other than that, I ran wild with the kids in the neighborhood. Every summer Mother would pack us away to her parents. We'd gather at house parties where we children would play in the hedgerows, learn tennis from tutors and torment the peacocks and swans that so picturesquely dotted the landscape. Sometimes we'd all repair to some vacation spot 'on the continent' to 'holiday' among the jet set. We'd rent a villa in Sardinia or a penthouse in Portugal, or broil ourselves on the beaches of Majorca.

In the background would be the servants. Jeeves was the true master of the house. He had come into service as my grandfather's valet and had become elevated to butler when my grandparents married. Jeeves ended up marrying the cook and so a dynasty was born. Three generations of Jeeves have served in my grandmother's home, the last was a capable man whose diplomacy and tact served well as my grandmother's health began to fail. In America we'd need to move her into assisted living. Thank God with the help of Jeeves and her nurse she was able to end her days as she was accustomed to living them.

After the funeral and all had been sorted out, I found that I was possessed of a small competence and Jeeves. At first I was loathe to bring him back with me to New Jersey. After all, what did I need him for? I managed by myself for nearly 45 years without any help from anyone. But according to my Grandmother's legacy, Jeeves would have employment with me and I couldn't very well leave him out in the cold could I?

Once I got back home I thought I'd go back to my routine and he'd figure out some way to spend his days. I only needed Jeeves during the great 'house party affair' to see that my life before him was a mere shell of what it could be.

Upon my homecoming in America I returned to the hospital where I am employed. I have a small staff and together we work to discover the mysteries of illness. I prefer to do this unfettered and in my own way, however I am plagued with the presence of Vogler. Vogler is a self-made man who has managed to buy his way onto the board of directors of our hospital. As is the wont of a self-made man, he believes that his largesse entitles him to run our hospital to his specifications.

From the beginning the Vogler and I have not seen eye-to-eye. In fact you can say that we have antipathy towards each other. He has made it clear that he would like me and my staff to remove ourselves to another worthy institution. It is a problem you see, because I have tenure, which means that unless I do something truly heinous, I can't be removed. Vogler has been on a campaign to make me as miserable at work as possible. Naturally I employ methods that confound his plans. It's amusing, but innocent people might be hurt.

On the morning of my return to work Jeeves wafted into my room with a breakfast tray. Already I could see the benefit of a valet in the home. The coffee he brewed was hot and strong. The orange juice fresh squeezed. The bacon and eggs were just as I like them. The toast was hot and buttered in the American way that I preferred. I thought that a lark might perch itself on my window sill and trill a tune the scene was so perfect.

"Sir, I've laid out your suit for this morning. I trust that it will be appropriate for your work." Jeeves informed me in that low voice of his. Something soothing about someone arranging all of the details of your life.

I glanced over at the clothes and realized that the man had me in a full suit. I didn't know I owned a suit. "Jeeves, where did that come from?"

"Bond Street sir, Mr. Gieves is our tailor." He brushed some imaginary lint from the lapel.

"Oh. Jeeves, I hate to break it to you, but I don't wear suits to work. I like to be comfortable. I wear jeans." I went back to my breakfast noting that there was a small, broiled tomato on the plate. So English.

"Sir," he had a pained look on his face, "I think you'll find this suit quite comfortable." He held up the jacket, presumably to show the drape.

I shrugged. Before him I was lucky to get out of the house with clean clothes. Besides, it would shake up Vogler to see me all suited up. "Why not? Okay, it will take me just a few minutes to shower and then I'll be up and out of your hair for the day."

"Yes sir. I'll get the shaving things ready." He disappeared into the bathroom and I heard him prepare something.

I wandered in and saw that he had set up a chair and had an old fashioned straight razor and shaving cream waiting for me. If I wasn't mistaken, there was also a hot towel. I figured that for the first morning I'd go along with it, after all the man was an ocean away from his home, but after this morning we'd return to my old habits.

Miraculously I was ready to depart with plenty of time to get to the hospital. Just as I was leaving; Jeeves handed me a white lab coat. It seemed odd that he would want me to wear something so prosaic over my bespoke tailored suit. I absently took it from him, with the intention of leaving it in the car. Permanently. But then I felt the fabric. It was soft and lightweight. It wasn't a lab coat, it was a security blanket. I slid it on over the suit and glanced at myself in the mirror. All fresh shaven, shorn and attired I actually looked pretty good. My cane, which formerly I had regarded as a necessary evil now looked entirely in place with my raiment.

The white coat especially made me look dashing. I checked the pockets and found that there was ample room for my Game Boy, iPod, stethoscope and other tools of my trade. On my other lab coats I had my name embroidered in blue stitching. "Jeeves, shall we send this out to be embroidered?"

"I'm sorry sir?" He looked at me expectantly.

"You know, to have my name put on here." I pointed at the left side of my new lab coat.

He seemed puzzled. "Like a petrol attendant sir?" He waited.

I finally got what he was driving at. "Oh. I guess not. Uh, okay, I'll see you later."

"What time shall I expect you for supper sir?"

"Supper?" I never worried about the evening meal. Sometimes I'd grab a burger, or eat some cereal or something.

"Yes, shall you be dining here, or will you be dining out this evening?"

This seemed like a good opportunity to show off a bit. "Let's have dinner for 7:30 this evening and make it for two."

"Very good, sir." He waited at the door until I drove away.

When I arrived at work Wilson accosted me first thing. "Sorry to hear about your Grandmother."

"Thanks." I booted up my computer and I expected to be sorting through e-mails for most of the morning. "Oh, you're invited to dine with me this evening."

"Excuse me?" Wilson seemed to be taking in my new appearance, as well as my manner of speaking. I had to remember that I was back in the states now.

"Dinner. My house. Eat." I decoded for him.

"Eat dinner with you at your house?" He regarded me warily. "Since when do you cook?"

"I don't. But trust me, you'll like it." As I feared, there were at least 300 e-mails to delete.

Wilson shook his head, "Okay, you're on. What can I bring?"

I thought about it, "Nothing. I have a feeling it will all be covered. 7:30 don't be late."

My day was rather slow, no patients to see, no insurgence among my staff and nothing from Vogler to spoil my routine of e-mail deletion and soap operas. Well, that was true until about 4:30 when a large, cream-colored envelope was delivered to me by Dr. Cuddy, the chief of staff.

She usually huffed into a room. I had once admired her, some years ago, but now every time she spoke to me it caused me a pain about three feet south of my head. "Here." She thrust the envelope into my hands. "You're expected to come and stay for the weekend."

I thought it would be judicious just to fix her with a hairy eyeball and a dose of guilt. "Yes, it is quite sad about my grandmother."

"Oh. Right. Uh, condolences." She at least had the grace to avert her gaze.

I opened the missive. It was baroque; thick rag-paper, hand calligraphy, embossed, a bit ornate for a country house party. I searched for a papal seal and found none. "Oh, a weekend at Vogler's. I think I can safely give that a miss."

She crossed her arms over her chest, "you can think again. You will be there and you will be civil. It's a fund-raiser and it would be good politics for you to show up, especially after your performance at the conference."

"I see. I owe you this?" I shoved all the pieces back into the envelope as best I could. She was right, I had behaved disgracefully, "Why on earth would the man want me in his home? Aren't you the least bit suspicious?"

Cuddy tried to say something, but she knew I was right. She knew Vogler was toying with me and she suspected, as I did, that this house party was some kind of trap for me. "I'm trying to run a hospital here. I wish that you and Vogler would just get a ruler and settle this once and for all. It's been quiet while you were gone. I've been able to get my work done without unnecessary strum und drang. Not that I think you feel obligated, but as a favor to me, please, just show up, be polite and stay out of the way."

It was my turn to huff. "But it's my weekend." I sounded petulant. Cuddy stared at me as though I was something that she needed to scrape off the bottom of her shoe. I realized that I wasn't going to win. Not this round at any rate. "Fine. But you're buying me lunch on Wednesday."

"Why Wednesday?"

"I'll be hungry on Wednesday. Now I have important work to do." I shooed her out under the pretext of clearing out my voice mailbox.

I was able to get everything fairly well organized by the time Wilson rolled by my office at around 6:30. "So I guess you've heard about Vogler's weekend golf outing?"

I indicated my envelope and shuddered, "The Hamptons. It's so crowded there. I guess it can't be helped."

Wilson leaned in, he gossiped like a girl when he had the chance. "It won't be crowded at Vogler's. It's a huge estate. It should be some wing-ding."

"So you're actually looking forward to this? I guess you're not bringing the wife?" I gave my yo-yo another twirl.

He seemed hurt, "Well, no. She's visiting her sister, or something."

"You really must keep better track of these things. So what exactly is this all about anyway?" I wound up my toy and stuck it in the top drawer.

"Vogler has invited some of his fellow bazillionaires up to his estate to hob-nob with some of the staff from the hospital. It's his idea that they will be so impressed with us that they'll open up their wallets and rain riches upon us." He leaned against my desk. I looked at the name embroidered on his lab coat. Jeeves was right. It looked outré.

"So why ask me? He especially doesn't approve of my department. If he could, he'd do away with it wholesale." I put a few of the piles into order on my desk.

"I think he's coming to understand that you're the big name. Either that, or he's got a plan to torture you." He smiled that smile, "so what's for dinner?"

"I don't know really, we'll find out when we get there. Come on, if we leave now, we'll be in time for cocktail hour." I shoved him towards the door and turned out the light.

I showed Wilson into the living room. There were two new chairs and a small table. "Jeeves!" I called.

"Sir?" He answered, carrying a tray with two glasses.

"What is this?" I motioned towards the new furniture.

"Oh, we have these on approval." He explained "Scotch and soda?" He inquired.

"Where on earth did you get a soda siphon? I thought those went the way of the do-do." I commented, nodding in the affirmative. "Oh, this is Dr. Wilson, a colleague of mine."

He nodded at Wilson and offered him a libation. "Indeed not sir, this was quite easily come by in a shop in the high street. Here are some cheese straws; dinner will be served shortly." He took our coats and oozed out of the room.

Wilson stood agog. "Who was that?"

I sat down in one of the new chairs, a wing chair covered in a handsome, burgundy fabric. "That's Jeeves. I inherited him. Sit down, this chair is deceptively comfortable." I settled in and sipped my cocktail.

Wilson continued, "And he's in your kitchen cooking dinner?"

"Yes, he's a valet. He looks after me." I smiled.

"Greg, that's a bit much even for you. A valet?" He gave it the French pronunciation.

"Valet, rhymes with pallet, not ballet. Or gentleman's gentleman. He's great. His family's been with our family for years. He's grandmother's bequest." I drained my glass. Strains of Mozart could be heard throughout the room. Relaxing and civilized. That's what it was.

"Your family in Ohio kept servants? Where, in the garage?" Wilson looked around and admired the room. "What's going on here? It's clean. It's organized."

"My family in London. England. They've been there for a few centuries. They've picked up some things along the way. Now I've picked up Jeeves. I'm beginning to wonder how I ever got along without him."

Wilson finished his drink as Jeeves appeared at the door, "dinner is served sir."

We went in to my dining area and sat down at a perfectly laid table. Somewhere he had dug up the dishes, stemware and silver that I thought were too good to use. "Jeeves, what happened to my other glasses?"

"I regret sir that it was necessary to replace those…items. I fear that the Archies do not allow the Cote du Rhone the proper room to breathe. I found these in storage and I believe that they will serve nicely." He poured us each a glass of wine in large, crystal goblets, and went into the kitchen for the first dish, a bit of turbot.

Dinner wasn't much, after all a valet isn't a cook, but Jeeves acquitted himself well with four courses. The cutlets were especially good. I rarely ate lamb outside of the United Kingdom. Dessert came in and I was delighted to discover that it was floating island. I had always loved it when I was a kid and it never occurred to me that Jeeves could make it for me.

Wilson just stared at it, poking at the meringue. I tucked right in. "Jeeves, you've outdone yourself, this is amazing. Tell me you make blanc mange too." I licked my spoon.

"Yes sir, and trifle, roly poly pudding, anything you like sir." He smiled at my evident enjoyment of his talents.

"Jeeves, I was skeptical about this arrangement, but I think you and I are going to get along famously." I spooned up another mouthful of custard.

"I endeavor to give satisfaction sir." He moved back into the kitchen.

Wilson fixed me with a stare, "I don't know you at all, do I?"