To the right of the intricately carved pine doors stood a small metal post, and
on the top of the post sat a box-shaped mechanism with a round plastic button
in the front. Van reached out and pushed the button, and to his surprise, a
gradually slanted ramp began to emerge from underneath the door to the right.
It was the handicapped access to the Crosswire mansion; Muffy had asked for it
to be installed just before she had run away with Angela. She had even
included an inside joke--a small bronze plaque attached to the wall next to the
doors, featuring the words VAN ACCESSIBLE.
Van effortlessly drove his wheelchair up the ramp, his mother close behind. She didn't especially enjoy visiting the Crosswire house, as extravagant displays of wealth intimidated and offended her; however, Van had insisted on paying Ed a visit, ostensibly to discuss the reward and perhaps reach a decision.
Muffy was the first to greet them as they entered the palacial living room. She had let down her hair, and was wearing a jump suit that matched it for color. From the earnest look on her face, she had somber news to impart to Van.
"Oh, Van, it's terrible!" she lamented.
"What is?" Van asked her.
Muffy leaned on the armrests of Van's wheelchair, and spoke with a hint of craftiness. "All the girls except for Francine have called me," she informed the duck boy. "They heard about the kiss, and they think you should leave the sisterhood. I tried to explain that it was just a scheme, but they didn't care."
Van lowered his beak in disappointment. Mrs. Cooper gazed at the two children and wondered what sort of intrigue was taking place between them.
"If that's the way they feel," said Van with a resigned tone, "then I guess I have no choice."
"I feel so bad about this, Van," said Muffy mournfully. "I never should have suggested it. It's my fault. I'm sorry."
"Maybe I'm just not cut out to be an honorary girl," Van reflected.
"Don't say that," Muffy reassured him. "You're still a very sweet boy. In fact, I know some girls who could learn a thing or two from you. Not many, but a few."
Muffy's buttering up of Van was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Crosswire in the living room. He still wore the disarming green sweater that was his usual attire at the car lot. "Mrs. Cooper," he uttered. "How kind of you to visit."
"Van insisted on talking to you," the duck woman replied. "I guess it's about the reward."
"I'd like to talk in private," said Van, "if it's all right, sir."
"By all means," Mr. Crosswire responded.
As he led Van toward the "war room", or study, Muffy gazed after them with a devious smile. "If you accept the reward," she thought bitterly, "you are soooo dead."
Once inside the study, Mr. Crosswire closed the door, seated himself in an office chair, and faced Van seriously. "So...what do you want to talk about?" he asked casually.
Van took a deep, anxious breath. "It's about the reward," he told the man. "A quarter of a million dollars is a lot of money."
"Not to me," Mr. Crosswire responded. "I routinely spend that much and more on promotional spots."
Van swallowed. He began to fear that he was hopelessly out of his league, and wouldn't even make it to first base. Summoning courage, he went on.
"My dad has a lot of pride," he said with a mature tone. "He doesn't want to depend on anyone but himself. And he sure as heck doesn't want to depend on you, because he hates your guts."
"So I've noticed," said Mr. Crosswire, calmly drumming his fingers together.
"We could do a lot with that money," Van continued. "But I don't want to make my dad unhappy."
"So what do you suggest?"
Nervous, Van struggled to maintain eye contact. He had learned somewhere that eye contact was an essential part of negotiation. Of course, Mr. Crosswire, having been a car salesman at one time, would certainly know that as well.
"I don't want the money," Van stated. "But there is something you can do for me in place of giving me the money."
Mr. Crosswire leaned closer to the boy. "And that is...?"
"Let Muffy go back to Lakewood Elementary."
Van suddenly felt as if a million miles separated him from Mr. Crosswire, who was now a planetary body.
The used-car dealer scowled and shook his head. "No, Van, I'm afraid I can't do that. The money means nothing to me, but my daughter's education means everything."
"She's not doing well at Uppity Downs," Van pointed out. "You know that."
"She may repeat a grade or two," said Mr. Crosswire coldly, "but in the long term she'll be better off. Now let's get back to the reward."
Van's heart plummeted. His gambit had failed. He was back where he started, burdened with the responsibility of taking the money or leaving it.
Then an idea struck him. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way...
His lips spread into a grin. "Okay, Mr. Crosswire," he said in a silky voice, "I've got another deal for your consideration."
(To be continued...)
Van effortlessly drove his wheelchair up the ramp, his mother close behind. She didn't especially enjoy visiting the Crosswire house, as extravagant displays of wealth intimidated and offended her; however, Van had insisted on paying Ed a visit, ostensibly to discuss the reward and perhaps reach a decision.
Muffy was the first to greet them as they entered the palacial living room. She had let down her hair, and was wearing a jump suit that matched it for color. From the earnest look on her face, she had somber news to impart to Van.
"Oh, Van, it's terrible!" she lamented.
"What is?" Van asked her.
Muffy leaned on the armrests of Van's wheelchair, and spoke with a hint of craftiness. "All the girls except for Francine have called me," she informed the duck boy. "They heard about the kiss, and they think you should leave the sisterhood. I tried to explain that it was just a scheme, but they didn't care."
Van lowered his beak in disappointment. Mrs. Cooper gazed at the two children and wondered what sort of intrigue was taking place between them.
"If that's the way they feel," said Van with a resigned tone, "then I guess I have no choice."
"I feel so bad about this, Van," said Muffy mournfully. "I never should have suggested it. It's my fault. I'm sorry."
"Maybe I'm just not cut out to be an honorary girl," Van reflected.
"Don't say that," Muffy reassured him. "You're still a very sweet boy. In fact, I know some girls who could learn a thing or two from you. Not many, but a few."
Muffy's buttering up of Van was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Crosswire in the living room. He still wore the disarming green sweater that was his usual attire at the car lot. "Mrs. Cooper," he uttered. "How kind of you to visit."
"Van insisted on talking to you," the duck woman replied. "I guess it's about the reward."
"I'd like to talk in private," said Van, "if it's all right, sir."
"By all means," Mr. Crosswire responded.
As he led Van toward the "war room", or study, Muffy gazed after them with a devious smile. "If you accept the reward," she thought bitterly, "you are soooo dead."
Once inside the study, Mr. Crosswire closed the door, seated himself in an office chair, and faced Van seriously. "So...what do you want to talk about?" he asked casually.
Van took a deep, anxious breath. "It's about the reward," he told the man. "A quarter of a million dollars is a lot of money."
"Not to me," Mr. Crosswire responded. "I routinely spend that much and more on promotional spots."
Van swallowed. He began to fear that he was hopelessly out of his league, and wouldn't even make it to first base. Summoning courage, he went on.
"My dad has a lot of pride," he said with a mature tone. "He doesn't want to depend on anyone but himself. And he sure as heck doesn't want to depend on you, because he hates your guts."
"So I've noticed," said Mr. Crosswire, calmly drumming his fingers together.
"We could do a lot with that money," Van continued. "But I don't want to make my dad unhappy."
"So what do you suggest?"
Nervous, Van struggled to maintain eye contact. He had learned somewhere that eye contact was an essential part of negotiation. Of course, Mr. Crosswire, having been a car salesman at one time, would certainly know that as well.
"I don't want the money," Van stated. "But there is something you can do for me in place of giving me the money."
Mr. Crosswire leaned closer to the boy. "And that is...?"
"Let Muffy go back to Lakewood Elementary."
Van suddenly felt as if a million miles separated him from Mr. Crosswire, who was now a planetary body.
The used-car dealer scowled and shook his head. "No, Van, I'm afraid I can't do that. The money means nothing to me, but my daughter's education means everything."
"She's not doing well at Uppity Downs," Van pointed out. "You know that."
"She may repeat a grade or two," said Mr. Crosswire coldly, "but in the long term she'll be better off. Now let's get back to the reward."
Van's heart plummeted. His gambit had failed. He was back where he started, burdened with the responsibility of taking the money or leaving it.
Then an idea struck him. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way...
His lips spread into a grin. "Okay, Mr. Crosswire," he said in a silky voice, "I've got another deal for your consideration."
(To be continued...)
