Chapter 7
The Zen Master…of Learning
The limo was a few minutes out of Belmont when something occurred to Muffy. She stopped sulking in her seat and pressed the control for the tinted privacy partition. In a swift and smooth motion, the window rolled down, revealing Bailey at the wheel. She crossed to the other side of the cabin, whereupon she stood on her knees in the seat and stuck her head through the frame, minding her ponytail.
"It is advisable that you remain in your seatbelt, Miss Muffy," her butler said, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Bailey," she said eagerly. "You knew Chip when he was a little kid, right?"
"Indeed. Your brother was eight years old when I entered your family's service."
"What was he like?"
Bailey took what appeared to be a thoughtful pause before answering.
"Master Chip was a very, ah, energetic young lad, impulsive as well. Caring for him could be most…unpredictable."
"That's butler talk for saying he was a handful, isn't it?"
"He certainly kept things interesting. I shall never forget the time Master Chip discovered a beehive in a maple tree, successfully removed it, and brought it, still attached to a small limb, onto the estate grounds. He had nearly made it through the doors when he dropped it. Complete chaos ensued, as you can imagine. The buzzing was unearthly. It was quite an eventful first day on the job."
"Oh, wow. I've never heard that story," she said incredulously. "What happened after that?"
"Your brother was stung, of course. With his bee allergy being what it was, he wound up in hospital."
Muffy knew that, among other things, Chip was allergic to bee stings. He even mentioned having to use an EpiPen once or twice before, though she had never seen him actually do it. However, she had never known of a hospital visit due to his condition.
Bailey had known. He had known because he had witnessed it. It made Muffy wonder what else the butler knew about her family.
"I assisted by phoning an ambulance and staying behind to manage the bee situation. Your mother and father…why, they were absolutely beside themselves."
"Did…did Daddy and Chip get along?"
It was the topic she had meant to broach in the first place. She needed to hear it from someone on the outside looking in.
"They got on like two peas in a pod. Rarely did I see one without the other, that is, until you came along."
Muffy frowned. Bailey realized his faux pas right away. His eyes flashed in the rear view's reflection to regard her, and he was quick to correct himself.
"Forgive me, Miss Muffy. A poor choice of words, not how I meant it at all. I was merely providing a time frame. Master Chip was approaching eleven when you were born. He had developed his own interests and was becoming more independent. Your parents had a newborn daughter. Babies require a lot of attention, even with the aid of a butler. The two eventually went their separate ways."
"Do you think Daddy cares about him?"
"There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever. You need not fret about that."
She should take Bailey at his word; she herself knew it was true. Why was this not a comforting affirmation?
Because Chip thought otherwise. Why did he believe that?
"Do you know what happened in Florida?"
"That… That was rather a tumultuous period. I am afraid that I am not at liberty to discuss what I may overhear concerning the goings on in your parents' private lives. Out of respect for them, as well as the desire to remain employed, I shall keep mum on the subject."
The goings on in my parents' private lives?
What did Bailey mean by that? She had specifically inquired about her father and brother. She had inklings as to what Bailey may have been referring, but she did not like thinking about them. Dare she ask?
"What does that have to do with—?"
"We have arrived at your next destination, Miss Muffy."
The limo was parked outside the ice cream shop. She was here to take care of the first of her father's demands.
Could she hire someone else? Sure. But why buy CoverGirl when you can have MAC? Alan was the obvious choice; however, some of her friends had not seemed to think so when she had run the idea by them.
"If you're going to ask him, you'd better do it while he's at work," Francine had said as Muffy walked with her and Fern between classes.
"Or I could just call him."
"He might answer you if you call from your, uh, new phone. Maybe he'll think you're an adult with a repair job."
"This is a repair job," Muffy said.
"Well, all I can tell you is that I'm getting really tired of hearing the guys bitch about Alan cancelling on them and ignoring their calls."
Francine made a detour for her news elective while Muffy and Fern continued on toward the girls locker room to change for PE.
"He's always at the library," Muffy decided. "I could pin him down while he's there."
"Wherever Alan says he's going, it's not to the library," Fern said. "Believe me, I really do spend most of my time there, and I've maybe seen him once. Francine is right. You should go to the ice cream shop. He won't skip work. Probably."
Alan definitely would not skip work. Muffy knew something about him, a benefit of being the gossip queen of Mill Creek Middle. It was her ace in the hole to ensure he would take her on no matter how much resistance he put forth. One way or another, she would seal this deal today.
It was only half past ten, but Muffy could see through the shop windows that the place already had a good turnout. It was warm today, though September dwindled away, and the promised storms were sure to usher in cooler fall temperatures after they passed.
Ladonna left the shop as Muffy approached the entrance. She gave a small wave as she passed, followed by Bud, Kate Read, and a blonde, well-dressed girl who she thought was named Emily.
Arthur, and Buster were already at one of the tables. Francine stood next to them while the three conversed. D. W. Read was perched on one of the stools, talking to Alan.
Alan gave a small nod of acknowledgement to Muffy and called out, "Your usual?"
"Please. Thanks!" Muffy called back as she approached her friends.
"What's up?" Francine said.
She was taken off guard as Muffy gave her a quick hug.
"What the hell was that for?" she said, looking as if she was not sure whether she should be worried.
"Oh, no reason," said Muffy with a wave of her hand.
Sis.
Even if she was miffed at Chip, she could still be excited for him. And herself. It killed her that she could not tell, but it would be okay. Francine would find out soon enough.
"Oh-kay…" Francine said.
"What's up with you?" said Muffy. "Did you all decide to meet this early?"
"Actually, no. I tracked Arthur down here because I forgot to charge my phone, and Buster just got here."
"That's right," Buster said. "I finished an important project this week, and I thought I'd treat myself."
He pointed finger guns at the huge sundae in front of him.
"Then I'm off to spend the weekend at Dad's."
Francine held up a hand to stop Muffy before she could utter it.
"Don't ask," she said. "He won't tell us."
"If I'm successful I won't have to tell you. Everyone one in this town will know about it," Buster said before taking a huge bite.
"Like I was saying," Francine continued, turning her attention to Arthur. "I know we said we'd Pie-Bowl tomorrow, but Catherine got the O-K for me to visit the ranch. I wanted to take some pictures for The Frensky Star."
Muffy had not expected Francine to stick with that particular hobby for as long as she had, but The Frensky Star, now a blog rather than a newspaper, was still going strong after all these years. Impressive still, it had a modest but steady readership, judging from the hit counter.
"We can Pie-Bowl another day," Arthur said. "I know you've been dying to go."
"I wasn't cancelling. I was asking if you'd be okay with switching plans."
"Catherine knows I'm coming?"
"I mean, I'm sure she wouldn't mind… Okay, I'll ask her," she said, taking her phone from her pocket. "Oh, balls, still dead. Muffy, let me use your phone. Oh, never mind…"
Francine had given up once she had seen Muffy cross her arms defiantly.
"I forgot that I'm not supposed to lay eyes on the Drug Phone. C'mon, Muffy. It's not like I've never seen the poor man's version of anything before."
"Did you just roast yourself, Francine?" said Buster.
"Let me borrow yours," she said to him.
"It'll cost ya one kiss," Buster teased.
"Fine, as long as I can kiss you with this."
Francine brandished a fist at him. Buster snorted a laugh. He stood and retrieved his phone from his back pocket.
"You slay me," he said, handing it to her.
Francine took it and stepped away to make her call.
"FYI," Buster said to Muffy, "calling it a Drug Phone makes me want to see it even more."
"Agreed," said Arthur. "So are you here to ask Alan?"
"Ask me what?" said, Alan, who had just finished spinning Muffy's shake.
"Good luck," Buster said, and Muffy could tell he was talking louder on purpose. "If he agrees he'll be giving you more attention that he's given the rest of us in months."
Alan placed the shake on the counter.
"You're cognizant of my ability to hear everything you're saying, right?"
"And you're cognajent that you broke up the band, right? Face it, pal, science is being a total Yoko right now."
Alan rolled his eyes and continued talking with D. W.
Francine returned to the table.
"Okay, we're good to go."
She then began to close in on Buster with her lips puckered. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what she was doing. Once he had, he backed away, looking wide-eyed and terrified.
"Ah! Ah! What're you doing?"
Francine stopped and gave him a satisfactory grin.
"Proving you're full of it," she said, handing his phone back. "Thanks."
Buster blinked several times as he looked into the distance, clearly considering what had just happened.
"I think I might've deserved that," he said bewilderedly.
Muffy could hear Francine say "Ya think?" as she left the trio for the front counter. A stool was empty in the spot where Alan had left her milkshake, so she settled there. It was close enough to hear what he and D.W. were discussing. As she readied to make her solicitation, she listened in.
"Do you remember when you argued with me last weekend?" Alan said. "When you got upset that we ran out of Tropicandy, and I wouldn't sell you a glass of unfrozen base to drink?"
"Don't make it sound like I threw a tantrum, Alan," she said. "We were failing to come to an agreement on why I should get what I want. That's all."
"I thought I'd prepare a demonstration, and then maybe you won't get upset if we ever run out again."
Alan placed one of the small paper cups the shop used for samples in front of D. W. The cup was filled half way with a dark pink and creamy substance. It reminded Muffy of the medicine she sometimes took for a stomach ache.
"Have a taste."
D. W. eyed the cup as she held it before putting it to her lips. As she sipped, her expression changed from one of indifferent acceptance to surprise.
"Blech!" she said, sticking her tongue out. "I've been eating Tropicandy ice cream for years, and there's no way that's Tropicandy! Is this some kind of prank? I bet Arthur put you up to it."
The girl seemed to remember who she was talking to and that she was more mature now, and so she tempered her rant.
"What I mean is it's just way too sweet. I don't think anyone could enjoy that. Not even Katie," she said, referring to her sister, "and little kids love sweet stuff."
Alan chuckled softly and smiled a smile that did not match the fatigue in his eyes. He had evidently pulled another all-nighter. The apron he wore did little to obscure his rumpled smoky-blue hoodie. Perhaps he had napped in his street clothes.
"Arthur is innocent, I promise," he said.
He gestured toward the cup.
"That is the exact recipe for Tropicandy that you've consumed for years. No tricks, just science."
"But how can it be the same? It doesn't taste anything like the frozen stuff."
"Well, because it isn't frozen, you see," he said as he topped a waffle cone with two scoops of a lighter pink ice cream.
"Cold foods numb the taste buds on your tongue, rendering them less receptive to flavors. Therefore, all flavors in an unfrozen base must be more intense in order to be distinguishable in the finished, frozen product."
He handed the cone to D. W.
"That's fascinating, Alan," D.W. said dreamily.
"I've always thought so."
She took a bite and smiled contentedly.
"Now that's Tropicandy. And here I thought ice cream was just churning, and freezing."
"Oh, it's so much more than that. It's a marriage, a harmonizing of proteins and fat molecules, water, sugar, and air—air is crucial—and those are just the basic components. What's really exciting are the endo- and exothermic reactions that take place when—"
"D.W.! Good lord! Are you comin' with us or what?"
Muffy, along with everyone else in the establishment, turned to see the source of the shouting. Bud Compson was back, holding the door open, looking as impatient as he sounded. Emily was behind him, her arms crossed, with Ladonna and Kate even farther back. Ladonna's brows were furrowed as she said something to Bud. Muffy could not hear it, but she wagered Ladonna was admonishing him for being rude.
D.W. shook her head.
"Honestly," she said to Alan, "some people can't appreciate the art of conversation."
With that, she slid off the stool and strode away with her cone, passing the perturbed Bud as she exited the shop.
As Muffy sat sipping her milkshake, a delicious mango lassi-inspired concoction created by Mrs. Powers, Alan milled around the front counter, not looking at her. Muffy could sense she was making him anxious. He looked conflicted, somewhere between avoiding her and eager for her to get it over with. So much for striking up a casual conversation and then segueing seamlessly into the subject. Oh, well.
"So… Hey, you," she began. "Long time, no see."
"No, Muffy."
"Excuse me?"
"That's my answer to whatever you're proposing."
"But you don't even know what I want."
"Given what I've gleaned from others about your punishment and how you won't stop bemoaning your misfortune, I presume you need a tutor."
"It's true," she lamented. "My life has taken a turn into hot mess territory. I'm having trouble concentrating, I totally bail when comes to tests, and having everything taken away that makes me me isn't helping my morale. I've lost it all."
Alan did not look sympathetic. It was time to employ a little flattery.
"But you're the Zen master of learning. I was banking on you being able to show me the way."
"Even if I could, I don't know when I'd find the time," he said.
"You were just teaching D.W. about thermo-whatever, and you weren't even trying. Think of the mountains you could move with an hour or two."
"Allow me to show you something," Alan said.
He reached beneath the counter and pulled out his student planner. Muffy recognized the royal and gold lettering, official school colors. Her student planner was still in her locker at school, virtually untouched. She had let her Infinity manage her schedule, that is, until now. She supposed she might have to dig the thing out of her locker and dust it off until she got her life back.
Opening it, he set the planner in front of Muffy. It was astounding. She thought she had a busy life, but Alan's schedule took the cake. Not only had he filled in the daily lines, the miscellaneous to-do lists, and the upcoming tests blocks, but he had written in the margins as well. There was barely a space on the pages not taken by an assignment, a fix-it project, a practice, or a club meeting. Curious were the spaces that were taken not by details but by ambiguous initials or abbreviations. Some things were highlighted in different colors while others had check marks or strikethroughs.
"Oh, wait!" Alan said, waking Muffy from her astonishment.
He grabbed a pen from the register and wrote at the bottom of the page: "BAXTER—THORENS DUE 6:30 (move to appropriate date)".
"I almost forgot to add that one."
"I see that you erased some stuff," she said, noting the stripes of White-Out on the pages, over which Alan had rewritten.
"I planned a study on polyphasic sleep, but I had a lack of volunteers. I'm going to utilize that time to work on the science fair instead."
"I thought the science fair wasn't until spring."
How do I know that? Muffy wondered as she took another sip.
"Oh, I've already completed my work for the fair this school year. I need to begin work for next year's fair. One must plan for important events in advance."
She could not argue with that.
"I don't suppose you could be persuaded to slap some more White-Out on these pages and pencil in little old me?" she said as she toyed with her straw.
"I just don't think it's feasible," he said, shaking his head subtly as he looked down at the pages. "There's practically nothing I could move around."
She had a feeling he was not being entirely truthful.
"What do you have to do that's so important? What do all these abbreviations mean anyway?"
His voice rose as he jerked the planner away from Muffy, making her jump.
"Look, it's just stuff I have to do, okay?"
Some of the nearby patrons fell silent. Francine, Buster, and Arthur were the most notable among them. No doubt they were curiously watching the situation. Alan was visibly trying to get a handle on his agitation. His shoulders heaved as he steadied himself.
"It doesn't matter what they mean," he said more quietly. "I'm committed to them."
The ambient noise began to pick up again. Muffy took a moment to process what had happened. She had been expecting resistance, but she had not anticipated an outburst. Alan put the planner away. He was back to avoiding eye contact.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "You can have the shake. It's on the house. Good luck in your endeavor to find someone."
He looked embarrassed, but there was something else. He looked…
Listless?
Distant?
Every word she conjured up seemed to both define him and somehow still miss the mark.
He's tired, she supposed. And definitely cranky.
None of it mattered. He would change his attitude.
She took from her handbag a glittering green Deadlight pen she had received in a promotional fan pack when she had preordered the final book and clicked it.
"Well," she said, plucking a napkin from a dispenser on the counter, "if you're that adamant about it, I suppose I should just give up."
She scribbled a sum of money on the napkin and handed it to him.
"But before I go, maybe you'd like to see what you'll be missing out on?"
Reluctant, Alan took the napkin. He cleared his throat upon reading the figure.
"Are—are you sure you didn't misplace the decimal?"
"Oh, I'm sure."
"This is more than I earn in two weeks."
"And you'd be earning that per session."
"How many sessions did you have in mind?"
"A couple every week, until Daddy is satisfied with my grades."
She gave a defeated sigh.
"But you've made your position clear. I guess I'll just continue to—how did you put it?—endeavor to find someone. And I guess you'll just continue to save for a car until you're a college sophomore."
She turned to leave, slouching to emphasize her disappointment.
"How did you know about that?"
She sat upright and spun on the stool to face him again.
"I have my ways."
His eyes shifted. He looked as if he were debating internally, trying to determine where she might have heard that bit of gossip.
"You'll be getting your learner's permit soon," she said coaxingly. "How great would it be to learn the road in a vehicle all your own? I can just picture you in a hot coupe. I'm thinking cherry—no—candy apple red."
He quirked an eyebrow.
"Or something more conservative, if that's what you're into," she said. "The point is it can be yours so much sooner than you were hoping for thanks to me. And my father. And the fine folks at Certified Pre-Owned of Elwood, of course. What do you say?"
"I am well aware that I'm being manipulated," said Alan.
She could tell she was wearing him down.
"One might say you're cognizant of it. Do you want the gig or not?"
She knew what was coming. She offered her hand.
"I think I might be able to move some things around," he said resignedly.
"Fabulous," she said as they shook on it. "You won't regret this, Alan! When do we start?"
"Tomorrow? I could come to your house around noon."
"Great. Let's do it."
She began to gather her things.
"But there are things we should discuss before I officially begin tutoring you, things I should know to help me get a better understanding of your needs as a tutee."
"Awesome. Can't wait to go over them," she said though she was only half listening by this time.
She was searching for her wallet when something else occurred to her.
"I'll send you a questionnaire via email this evening so we can get a head start…"
"Yeah, sounds awesome… Listen… The shake wouldn't still be on the house, would it?" she said, looking sheepish. "My funds are kind of nonexistent at the moment."
To be continued…
