The Care and Feeding of Tod Stiles

by Latebloomnriter

Buz and Margo try to reach an understanding, but there are some bumps along the way.

The Care and Feeding of Tod Stiles

While it is presumptuous to try to add to the great writing and stories on Route 66, they move me to envision what may have come next.

Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.

This story is a partial continuation of "Pecking Order for a Passenger Seat."

"I can't believe he's finally coming," said Tod. "It's been a year since I've seen him."

Tod had been exuberantly excited since his original traveling companion, Buz Murdock, had agreed to come for a visit. His enthusiasm reinforced to Margo that her husband had changed since the earliest days of their marriage. It was more than settling into married life, post-honeymoon haze, but more of a wonder about what would happen next. They had briefly moved into Margo's apartment after the honeymoon, but quickly decided to buy a house and use the balance of Margo's inheritance for Tod to start a business. The balance that would be left anyway, after another deduction. That was when Margo had her first inklings of the depth of the relationship between her husband and Buz Murdock.

Tod had been as serious as she had ever seen him when he asked about the money. "He's my best friend. He's been in a hospital for months, and isn't long out of a rehab facility. The bills are huge. It's going to take years for him to dig out of all that debt. I've been paying some, but-I want to do this for him, Margo. I want to pay off the debt and leave him something to start over. It's really your money-"

"It's our money, Tod. If it's really important to you, we can pay the bills."

"Maybe you should wait until you see the total. It's thousands of dollars. I know it's a lot, but, you see, he would do it for me without hesitation or discussion. It's how we operated."

It was a lot of money. It was important to Tod, and what was important to Tod would be important to her, so Margo agreed. Tod would pay off all the bills, with repayment of some expenses so Buz would have a refund. He wouldn't even learn of it until the next series of bills and letter of debt cancellation were sent.

Margo had been worried about Tod. The house hunting and major renovations to the home in the upper middle class/lower level wealthy neighborhood, some of which he did himself, distracted them both about what Tod would be doing. She had her career trading commodities, but the business opportunities for Tod seemed an uneasy mix of unlimited and inadequate. She thought he seemed anxious to be an equal financial contributor, so much so that he would consider possibilities without the work being something he would truly enjoy. She wondered if he missed having a friend to talk to, another man who might understand more than a woman about his needs and help find his direction without being seen as weak by his wife. She called Linc Case, Tod's traveling companion, to invite him for a visit under the guise of finishing the renovations but actually to be a confidant. Margo meant for the visit to be a surprise. Linc had agreed, but would be out of touch. It was just after they last spoke that Tod had excitedly told her that Buz had finally agreed to visit. Normally Margo would have been reluctant to have an houseguest unknown to her so early in the marriage, but if Tod needed this friend as well as Margo to sort out his future, the friend would be welcome.

"Where are we going to put him?" The house had four bedrooms, including their master suite. There was also a separate room for a live-in maid or housekeeper, which neither thought they needed. This room was large, with a private bath and kitchenette. Tod wanted the room furnished as nicely any other in the house, and Margo wryly wondered if he had plans early on for sliding in a traveling buddy for an extended visit. There was also a separate carriage house that they hadn't started working on, and she suspected too that Tod already had occupants in mind.

"We have one of the family bedrooms finished, plus the guest suite." Tod had definitely blocked out use as servants' quarters. "He can pick which one he wants."

"Well, I'm sure we'll get along fine, if he's anything like Linc." She heard a snort from the bathroom where Tod was shaving.

"You can't compare a strapping, small town Texas boy with a street urchin from Hell's Kitchen."

"I like Linc. He's quiet, uncomplicated.."

"Buz is nothing like that." Tod's voice was muffled as he shaved his upper lip. "Quiet? He's got a big mouth and a bad temper. Uncomplicated? He's unpredictable on a good day, volatile on an average day, and downright incendiary on a bad day. And when he goes nuclear, you just need to duck and cover." He spoke indulgently, as if Buz Murdock's explosive nature was somehow endearing. "Of course, he benefited a lot from being around me, even when I was working for him on my Dad's barge."

"I see." Margo was forming an impression of Buz Murdock. It was not favorable. The street urchin would be short in height, with a small man's insecurity revealing itself in angry outbursts. He would not be an attractive man, but one with bad teeth, wearing ill-fitting clothes and having little education. He was probably weak in body and character. He had taken advantage of Tod's generosity and need for a friend by latching on to him for rides across the country and help getting jobs. She would be pleasant regardless, at least on the surface, and made a mental note to wear flats.

"I forgot that you worked for him. How old is he?"

"We're the same age. Well, technically-ah-September '37- He's 26, almost 27, so about a year and a half younger. Younger in years, anyway. He'll be here tomorrow, so you can judge for yourself. Darling, thank you again for not minding that I'll be out all day tomorrow on the road with him to catch up." He kissed her to show his appreciation, and left a spot of shaving foam on her cheek.

"I don't mind. My friends were after me for a big luncheon since we got back." Margo's friends were mostly from an association of professional women of Houston, minorities in fields dominated by men. They included doctors, attorneys, professors, journalists, realtors, and businesswomen in their ranks. "And remember, they've wanted to organize a belated reception, and we've talked about a housewarming party since the place is almost ready."

"We could do some sort of combined event. How about a barbeque? Buz would probably go for that."

"We were thinking more formal, black tie, catered, at one of the hotels downtown. I would wear my wedding dress, since they haven't seen it in person."

"Buz would hate that. Would you try to think up a compromise? Nothing formal. I'm sure he'll bring a decent suit, so maybe a middle ground if you don't want a barbeque. Okay?"

"It's more than just a reception. People will be trying to make deals and connections. It's a good place for you to make some connections, too."

"Isn't it sufficient to have people there who just want to wish us well?"

"Tod, you've been to these types of events before. This is how it is."

"I had happily forgotten for a moment. Fine, as long as it isn't too elaborate and we talk about it before we finally decide."

"All right, I'll talk it over with them and come up with something."

The next morning Tod was up early in a frenzy of last minute arrangements. Margo was first attracted to him for his poise and experience, as well as his healthy cynicism from challenging life experiences. She found it to be unusual in a young man of his wealthy background, which was how she came to make an exception to her no-dating-men-under-forty rule. Tod's boyish enthusiasm over his friend was a new side, and she found it appealing without being immature.

"Let's see, can you find some authentic Italian salami, like they would have in a real New York deli? Do they have real New York delis in Houston? Is that even possible? Oh, and what are the best jazz joints in town? Maybe we should double if we got out-can you ask among your friends, try to find a live one-"

"A live one?!"

"Uh-I mean lively. Spirited. Someone who's not a snob, who would appreciate a diamond in the rough."

"I'll think about it," Margo answered guardedly. She wasn't certain she would inflict Buz on her friends.

Tod didn't notice her tone. He patted his pockets to be sure he had everything, and gave her a big kiss. "Don't wait up, we'll be late." He headed quickly for the door, and was halfway out before turning with another instruction.

"Oh, another thing. Can you pick up a couple of quarts of buttermilk?"

"Level with me." Buz had his head tilted back, enjoying the sun and wind on his face as they sped along. Now he straightened up to look at Tod. "What's bugging you about your life?"

"I wasn't aware that I had sent out any SOS messages for you to hear and try to rescue me."

"Buddy, you were sending up flares and waving semaphores that I could see all the way back in Cleveland. So what is it?" Is the marriage not working out, was an unspoken question.

After a moment, Tod slowed the car and pulled off the road to the dirt shoulder. He waited a few moments more, searching for how to put his thoughts into words.

"It isn't Margo. I'm sure of that. It's that I supposed that when I found my place, my home, that it wouldn't just be with someone to share my life. What about the eight or so hours every day that we aren't together? I look at Margo, and see that she is doing something she loves, and excels at doing. It was a challenge to achieve what she has, and she is successful. I guess I'm looking for that too but I haven't found it."

"So you're feeling desperate, and that you have to compete?"

"I'm not desperate. I do have something in mind. I got the idea when we started renovating the house. It will be worth more than what we put into it. Why not do that for more houses? I'll show you when we get to Houston."

"I'll watch and think about it, while you try to convince me." Buz ended the discussion and slid down in his seat, propping one knee against the dashboard and closing his eyes.

"You're going to sleep now? I haven't seen you in a year, and after a couple of hours on the road, you're going to sleep? What's the matter, are you having a relapse?"

"I'm perfectly healthy, like I told you. It's just that after a year, you know, I don't have the stamina yet to listen to you yap and quote from literature for more than a couple of hours."

Tod's obscene response was lost to the sound of the Corvette's engine roaring back on and heading out back on the road.

"Honey, after a couple of months of marriage, Tod is bringing a buddy home? I'm not sure that's a good sign. "

Margo's other friends echoed the sentiment in a series of nods and murmurs. She hoped this would work out, because Linc, who she was already very comfortable to be around, had called to cancel. Margo serenely defended her decision.

"I think it will be good for Tod. If not, well, I'll get rid of the buddy." The women all laughed at that, and Margo turned to the topic of the reception.

"I thought we would have a buffet at the house, not formal, more like a dressy luncheon or good business attire." Objections all around.

"I want to see the dress. I've got a new gown myself from Neiman Marcus, and want to show it off. Not upstaging you of course…"

"I'm looking for investors for my business expansion, and some of your commodity traders would be great candidates. I'm voting for formal also…"

"The hospital is always looking for donors.."

"Margo, why not?"

"The reason," Margo finally replied, "is that the buddy doesn't like formal, and Tod wasn't that interested himself in getting into a tux again-"

"So it's basically only one of them? We outnumber them by a substantial margin. And you know, you want to go formal yourself, don't you?"

Margo looked around the table and laughed. ""You win. Formal it is!"

It was past two in the morning when Margo heard Tod come into the bedroom. She turned on the light, blinking her eyes at the abrupt change in illumination. "How did it go?" Tod finished changing out of his clothes and slid into bed. "Very well. He looks good, Margo. Like his old self. And thank you again." He kissed her neck, and she caught a faint smell of alcohol on his breath. He was sober though.

"Where did you put him?"

"Guest suite, off the kitchen."

"What about breakfast? I have an early meeting and some research to do."

"I'm sure he'll sleep in late. We'll fend for ourselves."

"I think you'll both sleep in. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

The Corvette was gone when Margo returned. Entering the house, she could hear some music blaring from one of the bedrooms that was to be renovated. Tod must be the one who left, and Buz Murdock was working in the bedroom. She put her pleasant hostess face on, noted that she did wear flats as planned, and proceeded to the bedroom.

"Hello, how are you doing.." She stopped abruptly as the man in the bedroom turned when she entered. Buz hopped off the ladder he was working from and came toward her with a smile.

He was not what she expected.

He moved with an athletic, catlike grace. Though an inch or two shorter than Tod, he was still taller than average. No flats needed. His eyes were large and dark, expressive under thick straight brows above high cheekbones. He had a slender build, but under his t-shirt he seemed to be all lean, hard lean muscle. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Flustered, she let her surprise show in her face.

Buz noted her change in expression and his own smile faded into a more neutral and reserved reaction. He extended his hand. "Margo. I'm Buz Murdock."

Margo was used to men shaking hands in one of two ways: bone crushers trying to show dominance or limp fingered so as not to hurt the little lady. Buz Murdock did neither of those. He held her hand just right.

"Uh, welcome to our home. I'm glad you could come." Even she noted how awkward she sounded. She was thinking his eyes were his best feature, though all of him looked damn good.

"Thank you for inviting me." Women paid a fortune to have those eyelashes, and his were real.

He was studying her. Though his eyes were calm, they seemed to look right through her with his gaze coming out the other side.

"Your pictures don't do you justice," he added. She was gorgeous, no doubt about it. Great figure, dress, shoes, lipstick all matched, not a hair out of place. Buz had uncomfortable brief memories of Prudence Adams and Terry Prentiss, and felt even more on his guard.

"Thank you. I-I'm so sorry," she said helplessly. "I'm usually not so clumsy at meeting someone. It's just that you're not how I imagined you from Tod's description."

"Yeah? Why's that?" He could be blunt, Margo noticed.

"Well, when he said you were a street urchin.." she gestured with her hand at waist height, indicating how tall she thought he would be.

Buz laughed at that, showing a wide smile of beautiful white teeth. Another perception crushed. Were those dimples crowning that dazzling smile? They were.

"What, so you were expecting some scrawny runt out of Dickens? I haven't been like that for a while." He chuckled at that. He liked Dickens, and used to imagine some benefactor would discover his parentage, like what happened to Oliver Twist.

"I'm so sorry," Margo said again. "We'll just blame Tod."

"I'm always ready to do that."

They smiled at each other again, a bit awkwardly. Buz gestured to the newly painted walls. "Do you like it? We made some good progress, replaced the bath fixtures, laid out the new tile.."

"It looks lovely." They had another awkward pause. "Would you like to come to the kitchen? I could fix some lunch if you haven't eaten."

"Sure, thanks."

They retreated to the large kitchen, and Buz sat at the breakfast table while Margo bustled about. "Tod had me get some salami for you, and oh, some buttermilk. I hope that's all right. I know it may not be what you could get in New York." She was annoyed that she was still not at ease, and using her hostess voice.

"Yeah, the best salamis were out of New York. Imported stuff from Italy."

"Do you miss it there?"

Buz reflected for a moment before he spoke. "Some things," he replied thoughtfully. "Great Italian food, and the best delis. A good fight at the Garden or St. Nicks. Some museums, a Broadway show. Not that I could afford many of those."

"I was in New York a couple of years ago. I saw Arline Simms in her last production. She was wonderful. Such a shame that she died so young."

Buz said nothing. When she turned from her preparations she saw him staring hard at her. The line of his jaw and expression in his eyes had hardened. He judged her puzzled expression and softened his own, and merely sipped the tea she had given him. The mood shifted so quickly that Margo wondered if she had imagined it.

She brought Buz the sandwich, and they continued with some polite small talk. Yes, he was very comfortable in the guest room. So she bought and sold crops before they were planted? Well, that was-interesting.

"Look," said Buz after they exhausted their immediate small talk. "I want to thank you about the money for my hospital bills. You didn't have to do that. I mean, you must have had some plans for the money."

"It was important to Tod," she answered simply. "I want to make him happy and it was obvious that this meant so much to him. Besides, he insisted that you would have done the same."

"Yeah, I would. That's just how it was with us." He couldn't question her sincerity. It was all over her.

"I can at least do the dishes," Buz offered then. He took the plates and utensils to the sink. Margo pointed to the cupboard with the dish detergent. Buz turned on the faucet, and looked puzzled that no suds were forming. Margo laughed.

"We use the dishwasher. Anyone would think you'd never seen one."

Buz looked back, and the hard expression had returned. "Sure. I seen lots of them. In my neighborhood, everyone had at least two. They looked like this." He held up his hands.

"I'm sorry. I should have pointed it out. Everything goes in the racks, the detergent in here. We can do them later." She was usually more tactful with guests, but he kept her flustered. He seemed to accept it, and buried that hard look, but in its place was the reserved manner he had when they introduced themselves. She tried a different approach.

"If you feel up to it, we could go out to dinner and a club tonight. I found the names of some jazz clubs-Tod said you like jazz."

Buz provide himself willing to respond to her overture. "I love it. I could listen and talk about it all day. So, what do you have?"

"Well, there's a place called Bourbon Street West, another called Easy Street, and one called Cool Mood, Jazz on South…I don't know enough to choose."

"Well, what about the parking? Tod can get picky about where he parks the Corvette."

"We can take my car, but some of these night spots don't have their own lots. I think the Bourbon Street place has its own lot."

"Bourbon Street. You Texans like Bourbon, right? How about that one?"

"Bourbon Street it is."

They were genial again when they heard Tod opening the door and calling out. He strolled happily into the kitchen and slid his arms around Margo from Behind, and putting his head on her shoulder.

"Well, I see you've met. I ask you, have you ever seen anyone so pathetic?" Tod asked her. "I think it was a mistake inviting him here. Maybe we should throw him back."

"The only thing pathetic, buddy, was your description of me. Margo thought you were bringing the Artful Dodger home."

"When did you read Dickens?"

"When I wrapped up the Hemingway. That was when you finished with Anne of Green Gables and moved on to Nancy Drew.

"Actually I was already reading European history."

"Oh, sure. Sorry. Horatio Hornblower then."

Tod had lifted both of their spirits and mood. Margo had long noticed that men who were friends liked to needle each other, but these two seemed to jab with daggers, and enjoy it. She had a better sense of Buz's volatility now. He was completely at ease with Tod, and she witnessed the affection between them.

Tod noted that paint splatters on Buz' clothes. "Listen, go get changed. I want to want to tell my bride about my idea for a business opportunity."

Alone, Tod explained his idea. "I had the thought of buying a couple of houses, and fixing them up. With Buz and me both doing most of the work, we could make a decent profit." He looked genuinely pleased about this. Would this be what he was looking for?

"It sounds as if it would work out, in the right area."

"I think it could be. Now, how did you and Buz get on?"

"Well, he isn't quite what I imagined. We talked a bit, small things, but I think-I think I may have made him angry. There were a couple of moments when he got this look on his face. "

"You think you made him angry? Darling, if you made him angry you'd know it. Everyone within a 5-block radius would know it. What happened?"

"Well, he didn't recognize that we had a dishwasher, much less how to operate it. I laughed about that, and he got one of those looks for a minute and became a bit aloof."

"Ah. Well, Buz had a very rough time growing up. He's seen things neither of us can imagine, and a lot of those I don't even know about."

"He wouldn't be alone in having problems. It wasn't always a picnic for me either." Margo's mother had died young, and her father hadn't always been attentive. She learned self-reliance at an early age.

"Margo, believe me. Compared to Buz, we had an endless stream of picnics. Don't try to tell him how rough you had it and make it a competition. Was there anything else?" Tod turned to the counter to pour himself some coffee.

"We were talking about New York, and I mentioned I enjoyed the theater. I was there a couple of years ago for work. I saw an Arline Simms play, and when I turned around he had that look again. I can't imagine what was so inflammatory about what I said."

Tod was relieved that he still had his back to her. Arline. That was private to Buz, and even Tod as well to certain extent as her confidante. How could he tell Margo what it was like that night, the sound of Buz's scream when Arline died at his side, and his grief-stricken fury that that anyone would remove the engagement ring he had given her. "When she's buried, it will be with my ring on her finger," before Tod could tug him away. He couldn't share any of this without permission, and Buz plainly didn't want to discuss it with Margo. Tod covered up the delay in answering by adding some cream in his coffee and taking a couple of sips. When he spoke, he kept his tone measured, but tried not too seem overly cautious. "We happened to be in Butte when Arline died. The town took it pretty hard."

"That's a shame. Did you ever meet her?"

"I think we saw her around. A shame like you said. But, no need to mention it again."

"Well, I expect we'll get along fine once we know each other better. But my goodness, you could cut that accent with a knife."

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. You would need a hacksaw."

She would never dig him. Margo had led too privileged a life to ever understand what it was like growing up in an orphanage in the slums. There was always a comfortable house for her, a quality education paid for, people who cared for her. The truth of the matter was that he didn't get her either. He had known women from wealthy backgrounds before, but even with some similarities Margo was different from anyone he'd met. There was Prudence Adams, stinking rich and iron willed. There was no hiding it in Prudie and he had her pegged minutes after arriving at her house with Tod for a dinner invitation. There was Terry Prentiss, who did hide her motives. She had no hesitation about playing him, sleeping with him, to keep him on the hook as a tool to prove her capability as an executive. Margo was far too polished to blatantly try to manipulate men like the falsely coy Sweet Thing. Could a woman really be so successful in her own right; feminine at the same time; and support a husband in his pursuit of his dream? Together, not just side by side. He would have to think and watch more, and try to wrap his mind around it.

"Houston is a booming town," declared Tod as they drove. "There's the oil crowd, new geniuses, skilled technicians, even astronauts for the space center. That means new houses, or renovating older houses for the people coming in. Finding the right place to renovate is the key to making a profit like this."

"Location, location, location," remarked Buz. "That's what Terry used to say."

"I think you'll be impressed by the figures, once you wrap your head around them. I knew you learned something in Arizona."

"The only figure I was wrapped around there was Terry's and look how that turned out."

They pulled into the drive of a medium-sized ranch house. The yard was unkempt and dry, and the house was in need of new paint and a new roof. There was an open house showing, and they entered with a nod to the realtor. Inside too the house needed new paint and appliances, but the repairs were well within their capabilities.

"It seems like a good start and the pieces fit," said Tod. They were back in the car. "I've sold real estate, you worked in property evaluation and land development. We both worked in construction. Together we can have this place fixed up in a couple of weeks, working full time. So, what do you think?"

"I think," replied Buz, "that you're trying very hard to convince yourself that this is what you want, that this is your niche."

"And you think it's not?"

"What I know is, we both worked in construction like you said, but we never stuck with it when we could have. That must mean something. What really changed since then?"

"Look, just keep an open mind, will you? I'm putting an offer in on this place and another one like it."

"I'll keep my mind open as long as you keep your eyes open."

In his room, Buz finished changing into a suit for their evening at the jazz club. He fingered the two packages he had brought, and wondered if it was the right time to present them. The timing was right only if this truly was Tod's place, if he was set with Margo. He tapped his finger on them and came to a decision, and put both packages into another bag and went to see Tod and Margo.

They met up together in the family room. Like all the rooms Buz had seen, this was expensively furnished but still comfortable, like it really was okay to actually use the furniture. There was a fireplace in the center, and on the hearth were photographs of Tod and Margo from their wedding and honeymoon, and some photos of a younger Margo from some graduation, and photos of her parents. He recognized the only other picture of Tod, as a small boy being pushed in a swing by his Aunt Kitty, whom they had known too briefly as Tod's unexpected and only surviving relative.

"I have something for you," announced Buz. "It's kind of a wedding and housewarming present." He handed the larger package to Tod.

Tod unwrapped the package while Margo leaned over beside him. Tod's face froze at what Buz had brought. They were framed photographs of his parents, and another one of his father.

"Where did you get these?" Tod asked softly. He had destroyed almost every personal item from his past when he started his journey, taking with him only a few clothes, the Corvette, and Buz.

"I contacted the society editor from the New York Times. They had the pictures from your parents' wedding, and some others of your dad. I thought" –Buz had to clear his throat-"that if you had found your place, that it was time to rebuild some bridges that were burnt."

They locked eyes for a moment in silent communication, acknowledging what this meant to Tod, and the lengths Buz had gone to in finding these photos.

"Sentimental slob." Tod's voice was slightly hoarse from being choked up.

"What a lovely gesture," said Margo. "And you went to such effort to get them. We'll make room for them on the mantel and on the wall." She squeezed Tod's hand. "Now the family is complete."

"Not quite." Tod looked from Margo to Buz. "Someone is not represented. We're missing a picture of my next of kin, after Margo. How about it? Did you bring any other pictures for the wall?"

Buz smiled and reached into the bag. He had held back the other picture, needing to see if, even more than the other photos, that the remaining photograph had a place in the Stiles family home.

Tod opened the package and smiled wryly. It was another framed photograph. Tod wore a heavy coat, looking boyishly excited, in one of his first genuine smiles since his father died. Beside him, Buz looked brash and confidant, with an arm slung casually over Tod's shoulder.

"When was this taken?" asked Margo.

"Fall of 1960, just before we started traveling. Almost four years ago." They had experienced a lifetime in that time, both an eternity ago and yesterday.

"You both look very handsome. It will have a special place on the wall."

"Okay, well enough of this." Tod didn't do well with extended sentiment. "About tonight. You know we're going to jazz club, right?"

"Listen, how about I just meet you there. I can, you know, look around Houston."

" We were thinking about doubling." He turned to Margo. "Did you find a friend who was available?"

"Oh," Margo had not. She hadn't been sure that Buz would fit with any of her friends, but he had turned out quite differently from what she expected. Buz saved her.

"That won't be necessary." Buz smiled benignly.

"What do you mean it's not necessary?" demanded Tod. "You can't think we want to drag your carcass around all night, and make conversation with just you, do you? Even if you do take a dance or two with Margo, what else are we going to do with you?"

Buz continued to smile benignly.

"I think," guessed Margo, "that perhaps Buz already has a date?" Buz winked at her.

"Already? You have a date already? What did you do, pick someone up at the bus station? I can't wait to meet this one."

Buz laughed. "What makes you think you've never met her?" He held out his hand expectantly.

"Details! I demand details!" Tod was mentally scrolling through a list of the girls they met in Texas, and tossed over the keys to the Corvette.

"I think I'll go and change," said Margo, and left them still going at it. Men. They gossiped like fishwives.

"We saw the car in the parking lot," said Tod as they walked into the club. He scanned the audience from the entry foyer. "I don't see Buz." He noticed the poster of the featured performer and started laughing. "But I think we just found his date." He gestured at it to Margo. The lettering read: Limited Engagement: Miss Kitty Parker.

"She is his date? How did that happen? I suggested several clubs, and this one seemed best because of the parking."

"He maneuvered you into it, didn't he?"

"Well, I don't see how….Yes, I suppose he did. So how do you know her?"

"Buz dated her a few times when we were in California." Tod belatedly realized that he would have to tread carefully. He had dodged Margo's question about how he got the scar on his shoulder, and merely said it was an equipment accident at a construction site. He couldn't imagine telling the whole story: Oh, that. I got that when I was shot by a famous musician who was insane. Not to worry, he was actually trying to shoot his wife, who was riding in the car with us and who we met when she nearly crashed into us earlier that morning trying to escape him. More coffee?

They were shown to a prime table near the stage. There was still no sign of Buz. They looked over the menu for dinner and drinks, and watched Kitty begin her next set. Kitty was on the main floor, with the stage behind her, and started singing, a slow sentimental number. She moved among the front tables, and slinked her way over to Tod and Margo's table. Tod gave her a friendly smile in acknowledgement.

Kitty sang directly to him, looking into his eyes. When she was certain that she had his eyes locked, she turned her head slowly back to the stage, and looked back at him, indicating that he should follow her gaze. She repeated the gesture, and Tod caught on and followed her eyes to the stage. Tod's jaw dropped and then he grinned broadly, and pointed it out to Margo.

Buz was playing the piano on stage with Kitty's other musicians. Seeing that Tod had figured it out, Kitty moved on and finished her song in the center of the floor. She nodded at the applause, and Buz left the piano and moved to the drums while another man came out to sit at the piano.

The next song was faster, a sultry number that Buz helped create the mood for by the rhythm on the cymbals. Tod could see him ignore the audience, losing himself in the sounds he was making and the sounds of the music around him. He looked like he was completely in his element. The next song was quicker, harder jazz that had Buz driving the music on the drums, sticks flying in a solo section.

"Did you know he could play like this? He seems very good."

"Not like this. He always said he just played around."

There was another pause and Buz slipped to the corner of the stage and jumped off. Another drummer came to replace him.

"Aren't you the still the sly one," remarked Tod. "So how did you set this up?"

"You think I'd actually let you pick a jazz club? When I decided to come I checked around myself, and found that Kitty had a short gig here. So I called her. Some of her backup musicians had gotten sick, and weren't up to her full set, so I asked if I could play. She had to get it cleared quick through the union, and I managed to get a card for that, but it was a scramble."

"You and Kitty-"

"Nothing serious, just friends getting re-acquainted." Buz planned on spending most of the evening getting re-acquainted with Kitty. Every inch of her.

They talked and listened some more, until Kitty came to join them. Margo had some difficulty communicating-Kitty's slang and demeanor seemed a bit spacey to her, but perhaps that was how musicians spoke. After a bit, they took to the dance floor: Buz with Margo and Tod with Kitty.

Buz was a very good dancer, Margo discovered. He held her very properly and formally, and she suspected that this was not his usual style. Tod, she noticed, had no such reservations with Kitty. His head was close to hers, and he seemed to speak very intently. Kitty said something in return, and appeared to nod in agreement about something. The couples broke apart when the dance ended, and switched partners. The tempo picked, and Buz and Kitty began dancing more enthusiastically and intimately. Tod was also properly attentive to Margo through the next dance.

They all returned to the table, and talked a bit more. Margo eventually pressed Tod's hand, and he took the cue. "We're ready to call it a night. I'll guess we'll see you…?"

"Don't wait up," said Buz. He was grateful that his room had a separate entrance. He wouldn't be leaving Kitty's until the wee hours of the morning.

"I'm sure you'll make beautiful music together," Tod smirked. Kitty smiled knowingly, and they said their good nights for the evening.

Tod and Margo were awake and up late the next morning. It was late enough for Tod to notice that the Corvette was in the driveway, probably only just returned. He grinned to himself as he saw Buz, yawning, and stretching, head over the carriage house to start working there.

"That was fun last night," Tod commented to Margo. "I see from the answering machine that we got the houses we put the offers on. Oh, and I completely forgot to ask you. What did you come up with for the housewarming and wedding reception party?"

"Well, we talked about it and agreed. It's downtown at the Hilton, and, oh, yours is dry cleaned, but I suppose Buz will have to come up with a tuxedo."

"Tuxedo?" Tod stared at her. "It's formal? I thought we agreed that it wouldn't be formal, you would come up with an alternative, and we would discuss it-"

"I did mention something other than formal, but my friends all wanted formal, and there was only just Buz, so I went with the majority."

"You said we would discuss it." Tod was becoming heated. "And I told you, Buz would hate a formal affair."

"I didn't think it that big of a problem." Margo was becoming angry herself. "I'm sure Buz could survive it. My friends really wanted this."

"Your friends," snapped Tod. "What do they know about being friends? Have any of them ever saved your life, not just physically, but your spirit as well? Not just once, but several times?" His voice had risen with every sentence. "What do you friends do except have lunch, gossip and cut each other up when one is not there? What do you and they know about having a friend who was the only person who cared if you lived or died?"

"How dare you speak that way about my friends!" shouted Margo. "You have no idea about how women need each other. We support each other, encourage and help each other, and if you think that's easy, all of us trying to make our mark in a man's field, how we'd cope without that support, than you're a fool!"

"This fool isn't going to stand around and argue any more about it. I hope you have a lovely time at this party. You'll have to tell me about it sometime, because I'm not going!"

""Well, you can just leave now!"

"I am. I'll be at the other houses we bought. Back when we agreed on things as a couple." He stalked out, and she heard doors slamming, and the Corvette starting and leaving in a hurry.

Margo slammed a table with her fist, too angry to speak for a few seconds. This was her first fight with Tod, and it was no small argument. They had usually been so in agreement until now, when Buz Murdock arrived on the scene. Her friends had warned her about buddies. This one was the cause of the first major argument in her marriage.

She wondered where Buz was now. That was Tod leaving in the Corvette, so Buz had returned sometime late or very early. She looked outside, and saw Buz pass by the window in the carriage house. She would have a few words with him.

"Oh hi," said Buz casually when he saw her. He turned and looked around at the interior of the carriage house. "What colors do you want in the kitchen area here? I'm not sure all these appliances are in good shape, either. And this pantry door could use some new hinges. Tod and I talked it over about what we needed. He seems to be in a hurry to get started-I heard him tear out of here."

"What I want," began Margo angrily, "is to know, what's so terrible about a tuxedo?!"

Buz looked back at her in surprise. "I-what? A tuxedo? For what?"

"Our party. The one Tod and I were planning for a belated wedding reception."

"I don't dig formal affairs and monkey suits. I thought it was more casual. Tod said you and he were talking about it, and it wasn't formal anyway. Are you saying that's changed?" He could see plainly that she was upset, and seemed to want to take it out on him. Hostility directed his way always sparked his own aggression. The fuse was lit.

"I talked about it with my friends, and we all wanted formal, so that's what I've arranged."

"So," Buz mused, "You told Tod you would talk about it, and then you decided on formal." He nodded to himself, and shook his head. The gesture angered Margo again.

"Then we argued about how it shouldn't be formal, just because you would hate it and didn't want to wear a tux."

"You're off base. That's not what you're arguing about."

"I still want to know, what is so terrible about a formal affair for you that my husband and I ended up in an argument about it?"

"I told you, that's not what it was about." There was an increasing edge to Buz's voice.

"It's like a tuxedo would strangle you, and Tod couldn't let that happen to his great buddy.."

The fuse burned down to the dynamite and it exploded. Buz slammed the pantry door shut so hard that the other cabinets in the kitchen rattled. "I told you that isn't what happened! Tod isn't fighting you over me, he's fighting for himself!"

Margo was struck silent by the sudden fury in his response. She was seeing now what Tod meant about Buz's temper. He had skipped through volatile all the way to incendiary in seconds.

The explosion knocked the immediate anger out of both of them. Buz's chest had been rising and falling hard, but he calmed himself down in response to Margo's open mouthed shock at his words and tone, and spoke more quietly, but still intense.

"What happened is that you told Tod you would talk about it, together. Then you went ahead and made all the decisions without him, like what he wanted didn't matter and anything else won't matter later on. It didn't have to be the party, or anything to do with me. It's that he wasn't given any say after you agreed to talk about it again, and that you were the only one in charge."

He paused, seeing the realization beginning to spread across her face. His next words were even more quiet. "Look, when a man and woman are right for each other, they should fit together like a designer dress on her and a well-tailored suit on him. When a guy is crazy about a girl, he'll put on that suit whether it fits or not, if that's what she wants. It may look good for a while, but if he keeps wearing that suit, the seams will start to split, and if he still keeps on wearing it, sooner or later he'll be in tatters. He'll be in tatters on the outside and inside. A woman who would ask that of a guy would be better off with a well-dressed mannequin at her side, or a ventriloquist's dummy on her arm who would spout any words she puts in his mouth. Is that the kind of guy you want? 'Cause if you do, that's not Tod."

They looked at each other for a moment, then Margo spoke. "No," she said quietly. "I've never wanted anyone like that. I wanted to be in a marriage where my husband and I were equals, and treated each other and our dreams with respect.

"Yeah? Well, it takes both people to do that. You didn't."

"I know. I-I'm sorry. I owe you an apology. It's a bit unnerving, you know, to realize that your husband's friend understands him and what he needs so much better than his wife."

"A guy isn't the same with a girl as he is with a guy. He tells her things he won't tell a guy, and vice versa. We know him differently, that's all."

"I love Tod and want him to be happy. I was wrong not to discuss it with him. I should have been more accommodating to you, too."

"You should be telling Tod this, not me." He turned back to inspect the door he had slammed, which was now dangling loosely by its hinges.

"Wait," said Margo. She was ashamed of what she had said. "I know Tod hopes you stay here. I want him to have what he needs, and I think he needs you around. I'd like to know you better too. We do have one thing in common, I think. We both love Tod." She was beginning to understand the intensity of that friendship, however different the two men seemed.

Buz looked at her intently for a moment at that last sentence, but didn't respond to it. It was too personal for him to say to anyone else.

"We'll never really get each other," he said at last. He paused, and sighed. "Maybe-maybe we don't have to. All that matters is that we both want what's best for Tod."

"Do you think you'll stay?"

"I don't know. Tod keeps asking, but I don't know."

"How about if I find you a live one?"

Buz looked startled, then burst out laughing. Margo looked back in mock innocence. "Okay," said Buz, "if you put it that way, I'll keep thinking about it."

Margo found Tod at one of their new houses. His face looked strained and he watched her warily as she approached.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I'm new at being married, and new to thinking about anyone else but myself this way. I fell into old habits, and I was wrong. I shouldn't have moved ahead with arrangements after we agreed to something else. I'm sorry I was so inconsiderate of you, and to Buz. I hope-I hope you can forgive me."

"How did you come to this understanding?"

"I had a good talk with Buz. He helped me understand some things." No need for Tod to know that their talk included some very heated words and nearly broke a door.

"Profound words from the poet laureate of Hell's Kitchen. Yes, he's good at that."

"I like to think I would have figured it out myself, but I'm glad he helped."

Tod took a long breath and let it out. "Margo, I want this to work out. I married with the intention of being married to one woman for the rest of my life. It can only work if we honor each other's wishes, really talk to each other and understand when to compromise."

"I know and I agree. We can and will do better-if you want to as well." This last was spoken softly, and questioningly at the end. Do you still want to?

"I want to. I owe you an apology as well. It was wrong of me to criticize your friendships and how you need them. I had no right to do that. It can't be easy for all or you in a man's world."

"Am I forgiven?"

"I'm ready if you are."

"Then we still have a party to plan."

Buz watched Tod pull into the driveway and head toward the carriage house. He didn't look like a man who had just had a knock-down argument with his wife. He actually looked rather cheerful.

"So I guess you kissed and made up, huh?"

"Everything is fine. We hit a rock but rolled over it. You know, I used to think the journey was over when you leave the road, but that's not true. I discovered that marriage is another sort of journey, that continues even in one place."

"I'll remember that."

"Margo said you and she had a good talk. I'm glad to hear it. Now, about those houses-hey, what happened to that door?"

"Oh, that? I guess they don't make 'em like they used to." He was grateful that Margo didn't mention that their good talk nearly resulted in a door to coming off its hinges.

"Our offer was accepted. So, we have a small private business that should yield a decent nest egg, and then, well, we'll maybe get some more. Are you in?"

Buz shook his head. "Not so fast. Look, I already told you I thought you were trying to convince yourself that this is the kind of work you want. But buddy, this isn't like what I've seen in you before." He hesitated, and looked around to be certain they were speaking privately. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Margo, but the work you really dug, and were happy with, was the shipbuilding business in Gloucester when you thought you'd marry Prudence Adams."

"Ah. Yes, I'm glad Margo didn't hear that."

"I mean, that had everything for you. I didn't dig it myself, but you sure did. You love being around the water. You could sail around there like you used to with your dad. There was two hundred years of history in the business and all that jazz. There were good workers already there, but the business was failing. You had the plans to save it, and take pride in that. It was small enough that you didn't have to be at a desk all day, but you could work with your hands to build those ships if you wanted to. I used to figure, that part of the reason you fell in love with Prudie was that she brought the perfect job with her. That's the kind of place I saw in your future. Who says there aren't other small shipping or shipbuilding businesses that you could pick up, build up, and pass on some day?"

Tod was lost in thought, remembering. He had loved the idea of reviving the shipyard. Buz had him thinking about the possibilities. "If I could find something like that-" He caught himself, and shook his head. "We were talking about the houses."

"Yeah? You should have seen your face just then. How big was that schooner you were sailing in your daydream?"

"What about you?" challenged Tod. "What about what you really dig? I've never seen you as happy about something as when you get lost in music. So just how good are you?"

Buz became defensive. "I don't know," he said in exasperation. "I told you, I just played around with it."

"Well, it sounded like more than playing around last night."

"I knew those pieces cold. That's the only way I could have played on short notice like that."

Tod shook his head. "You never had any real training, and yet, Jennie Henderson, a professional, said you had a musician's ear. That must mean more than 'playing around.' Maybe you can go a lot farther if you had some formal training, or mentoring."

"Oh, sure. Like there aren't a million guys trying to get into music."

Tod baited the hook. "A million guys don't have a musician's ear without training. You have some connections who could work with you, help you along if you have what it takes. Connections who are legends, or so you tell me: A.C. Grahame and Snooze Mobley. Not to mention the lovely Miss Parker. And we could still work together on something the rest of the time."

Tod could see that Buz was imagining it. The bait was being nibbled, and Tod started reeling it in. "Maybe not just performing. Maybe you could compose music, or ah-direct others in playing."

"Arranging. They call it arranging. Square. Like Nelson Riddle arranges for Frank Sinatra."

"Or radio. A disc jockey, spreading the sacred message that jazz must go on."

Buz was practically reeled in out of the water now. "Man, that's the truth. I hear about jazz clubs closing, younger kids switching to rock' n roll. They don't know what they're missing. That Ringo character couldn't carry Buddy Rich's sticks." He shook his head and looked sharply back at Tod. "Why are you pushing this so hard?"

"Because I'm a selfish son of a bitch who wants it all. I want the right wife to share my life and have a family one day. I want work that has some meaning, and that I can take pride in. I want good people around me. And I want the pleasure of seeing my best friend find those things too."

Buz sighed and shook his head again. A wry smile was spreading across his face. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

"Then you'll stick around?"

"No, I mean you are a selfish son of a bitch."

They both started chuckling, then looked at each other for a long moment. "Okay," said Buz finally. "I'll meet you part of the way. I'll stick around to help with these houses, and think about what you said. But if it isn't right for me, I won't stay."

"If this house remodeling isn't right for me, or for Margo and me together, we won't stay either. I can't ask her to give up what she loves, but there are other places where she can trade commodities. We've already talked about it." Tod paused and reached into his pocket. "If nothing here or what we talked about is right for you-" he tossed the keys to Buz. "A man on a journey needs transportation. The car is yours if you still want to leave. Okay?"

Buz fingered the keys in his hand and tossed them back. "Okay. We'll see what happens. Besides, I got another reason to stick around for a bit."

"What's that?"

"Margo said she'd find me a live one."