Disclaimer: I don't own the situations or characters portrayed herein. I'm just playing with them for a while.
Chapter Two: Of Hamsters and Lemonade
He was frail, now. What little hair he had left had turned fluffy and white. He had retired twenty years before, and he had retired for a reason.
Simply put, Billy Melrose had been tired. Tired of the midnight phone calls. Tired of appeasing both Dr. Smyth and his successor — a useless but socially gifted thirty-year-old by the name of Timothy Fitzgerald Barton-Brown. Tired of Barton-Brown expecting him to know everything and everyone and foresee every potential problem. Tired of Bart, as he secretly called him, taking credit for Billy's successes and then blaming Billy for his own failures.
So Billy Melrose had retired, and Francine Desmond had taken his place. It was a good change for her, and he wished her all the best. He had taken one sip of nasty champagne at his retirement party, courtesy of Bart, and eaten a whole doughnut, courtesy of Francine. Then he had gone home, kissed Jeannie, and changed his phone number.
Life was good now. No more nighttime phone calls except from Rosie to say that she was in labor with his third grandkid (now a teenager) and could she and Henry please drop off the other two on the way to the hospital. No more missed Christmas dinners or traditions. No more early mornings or late nights or all-nighters or canceled fishing trips. No more knocking on Lee Stetson's door and starting every visit with "I'm sorry to disturb you." Now, those visits were planned.
Life was good now.
He was sitting on his front porch, a glass of Jeannie's best sugar-free lemonade next to him, and wishing it was more like Jeannie's worst real lemonade. It was a calm, quiet, sleepy afternoon, and once Jeannie got back from her lady's meeting at the church, they were going to sit out here together and plan for their upcoming cruise.
The phone rang in the stillness of the house, jarring him back to reality. He wondered if it was a robocall about his car's extended warranty or that annoying company that constantly called about cleaning their non-existent carpet. He decided to let it ring, then decided against it. What if it was Jeannie? What if it was Rosie or Faith?
He got up, slowly, and went inside.
The phone stopped ringing, then started up again. Clearly whatever it was, it couldn't wait. He quickened his steps and answered it on the third ring.
"Melrose here." It was a greeting born of long habit, and Jeannie teased him about it.
"Billy, we've got to talk."
It was Francine's voice.
"What kind of talk?" he asked, suddenly wary. Usually she said hello, then asked if she was interrupting anything, then said what she was calling about. Not this time.
"That depends," she said. "How's Howard?"
Howard was Faith's childhood hamster. Howard had been dead for fifty years, and Francine knew that. Invoking Howard's name meant trouble.
"Not great," he said. "You'd better come over."
"I'll do that; thanks, Billy."
There went the lazy afternoon.
She pulled up twenty minutes later in a small, weird-looking car that Billy supposed must be expensive but just looked badly-proportioned and futuristic. He missed the days when cars looked like cars, with sharp angles and gleaming chrome and wood.
"Thanks, Billy," she said, approaching the porch. As always, her hair was perfectly coiffed, her earrings perfectly level, her clothing perfectly chosen. But she was tired, now, and instead of looking younger than she was, she looked every day of her sixty-four years.
"Hello, Francine."
She stopped where she was, looking up at the old man on the porch, and she returned his smile. A weight seemed to drop off her shoulders, and the wrinkles in her forehead relaxed.
"What do you say we go inside?" she asked. She didn't want to talk business outside where anyone might be listening from afar.
"Of course," he said, reaching out to take her hand and help her up. He was still, in every respect, a gentleman.
They sat at the dining room table, each with a glass of icy lemonade. She looked around at the pictures of a happy family, and the beautiful china Jeannie loved so much, and spoke.
"Billy, we have a problem."