Nympthetress: Thanks for the kind words. I hope you continue to enjoy the
story.
*********************************************************
"More whiskey, Mister Marston?" Belle proffered the bottle.
"No, thank you. I'm fine." Elliott Marston, calling upon years of experience dealing with lawyers and army officers, hid behind his most charming smile and strained to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
The inside of the house was not much of an improvement over the exterior. Sateen wallpaper in lurid sunset hues adorned the walls. Large pieces of overstuffed furniture were beached in the two parlors like sea monsters caught on shore. The lights were dim and hidden under pink shades, giving occupants the feeling they were floating through a rosy mist.
"It's going to do old Sam a world of good to see young Sam again." Belle giggled. "Sounds kind of silly when you say it out loud."
The proprietress of the establishment beamed at Marston. From the moment she opened the front door and found her visitors, she had alternated between smiling and weeping. Sam had been enveloped in a hug and cried over like a lost kitten, then pushed up the ornately carved staircase. Pulling out a frothy lace hanky and dabbing her eyes, Belle had then swept Marston into the front parlor for refreshments.
"I'm sure they're enjoying their reunion." Marston cocked an ear and tried not to look desperate.
"It's purely a wonder those boys are staying so quiet." Belle chuckled.
"Boys?" He looked around, startled.
"Those little brothers of hers." The lace hanky waved in the direction of the ceiling. "Little hellions, they are. But then, bless 'em, they don't mean no harm."
Marston retreated behind his drink. Sam had mentioned brothers a couple of times but he'd assumed they were only a few years younger than she was. He'd never considered there would be children in her life.
He probed cautiously. "Do they visit their father often?"
The hostess looked up from checking the level of whiskey in the bottle and stared at him. "Why, they live here! What did you- " A monstrous knocking interrupted her and she flew to the hall to answer the door.
Marston put his glass down and strode to the staircase. Belle was having a business discussion with a group of men. Under the cover of her high- pitched shriek of laughter, he ran lightly up the stairs.
The second floor hallway was an improvement over the first: obviously the unknown decorator had exhausted his creative energy below. Upstairs he had confined himself to splashes of gold paint on the wood paneling and oversized paintings of nude women at the top of the stairs.
There were several doors along the hall. Marston tread softly on the worn rug and paused occasionally to listen. He paused outside the last room where a soft murmur of voices could be heard and considered his next step.
He had no wish to interrupt what was probably an emotional reunion. Sam would not thank him for intruding. But the conviction had been growing since their conversation on the street that he had to remove the older Flanagan from this place and take him somewhere he could be properly cared for. Belle's casual announcement about the rest of the family being residents as well simply capped his determination.
He had the resources to make life easier for her family and he was going to do it. She would see the reason behind his actions soon enough. Or at least he hoped she would.
Squaring his shoulders, he raised one hand to rap on the door while reaching for the knob with the other. A hard piece of metal suddenly poked him in the back and a soft voice whispered behind him.
"Touch that knob, mister, and it's the last thing you'll do. I got six bullets and at this range I won't miss."
*********************************************************
"More whiskey, Mister Marston?" Belle proffered the bottle.
"No, thank you. I'm fine." Elliott Marston, calling upon years of experience dealing with lawyers and army officers, hid behind his most charming smile and strained to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
The inside of the house was not much of an improvement over the exterior. Sateen wallpaper in lurid sunset hues adorned the walls. Large pieces of overstuffed furniture were beached in the two parlors like sea monsters caught on shore. The lights were dim and hidden under pink shades, giving occupants the feeling they were floating through a rosy mist.
"It's going to do old Sam a world of good to see young Sam again." Belle giggled. "Sounds kind of silly when you say it out loud."
The proprietress of the establishment beamed at Marston. From the moment she opened the front door and found her visitors, she had alternated between smiling and weeping. Sam had been enveloped in a hug and cried over like a lost kitten, then pushed up the ornately carved staircase. Pulling out a frothy lace hanky and dabbing her eyes, Belle had then swept Marston into the front parlor for refreshments.
"I'm sure they're enjoying their reunion." Marston cocked an ear and tried not to look desperate.
"It's purely a wonder those boys are staying so quiet." Belle chuckled.
"Boys?" He looked around, startled.
"Those little brothers of hers." The lace hanky waved in the direction of the ceiling. "Little hellions, they are. But then, bless 'em, they don't mean no harm."
Marston retreated behind his drink. Sam had mentioned brothers a couple of times but he'd assumed they were only a few years younger than she was. He'd never considered there would be children in her life.
He probed cautiously. "Do they visit their father often?"
The hostess looked up from checking the level of whiskey in the bottle and stared at him. "Why, they live here! What did you- " A monstrous knocking interrupted her and she flew to the hall to answer the door.
Marston put his glass down and strode to the staircase. Belle was having a business discussion with a group of men. Under the cover of her high- pitched shriek of laughter, he ran lightly up the stairs.
The second floor hallway was an improvement over the first: obviously the unknown decorator had exhausted his creative energy below. Upstairs he had confined himself to splashes of gold paint on the wood paneling and oversized paintings of nude women at the top of the stairs.
There were several doors along the hall. Marston tread softly on the worn rug and paused occasionally to listen. He paused outside the last room where a soft murmur of voices could be heard and considered his next step.
He had no wish to interrupt what was probably an emotional reunion. Sam would not thank him for intruding. But the conviction had been growing since their conversation on the street that he had to remove the older Flanagan from this place and take him somewhere he could be properly cared for. Belle's casual announcement about the rest of the family being residents as well simply capped his determination.
He had the resources to make life easier for her family and he was going to do it. She would see the reason behind his actions soon enough. Or at least he hoped she would.
Squaring his shoulders, he raised one hand to rap on the door while reaching for the knob with the other. A hard piece of metal suddenly poked him in the back and a soft voice whispered behind him.
"Touch that knob, mister, and it's the last thing you'll do. I got six bullets and at this range I won't miss."