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The Portrait
Part 18
Treize had to circle the block twice before he could find a parking spot near the Book Baron store. Apparently the shopping district was a popular destination on weekends, especially on such a beautiful and sunny Saturday morning. People were walking their dogs, families with children headed for one of the many bakeries or fast food stores for breakfast.
After being busy most of the week at school and with trying to finish painting the upper floor, the two men had decided to visit the book store this morning, before Milliardo had to get ready for a weekend with his family.
The bell above the door announced their arrival as they entered the little store, and a few moments later the owner appeared from a room in the back.
"Good morning," Treize greeted the old man. "I received a call earlier this week about some newspapers you'd found for me?!"
"Ah, yes, Mister Khushrenada, wasn't it?"
"That's right." The professor was somewhat surprised. For his age the old man seemed to be quite sharp; remembering his name among all those customers he was dealing with every day.
"Why don't we go into the backroom," the owner suggested. With his cane he banged against the spiral staircase that seemed to be leading to the upper level of the house. "Henry," he called out. "Take over the store for a moment; I have some things to take care of."
"Be right there, Grandpa," a youthful voice came from upstairs.
"My grandson," the older man explained as he let the way into the back room that turned out to be a mixture of office and storage room. "I don't know how I would manage without him. Please have a seat, Gentlemen."
While Treize settled down across the desk, his companion pulled another chair, which had been standing against the wall on the other side of the room, closer. Searching through a large filing cabinet for a few minutes, the old man finally pulled out a couple of old newspapers covered by protective plastic sleeves and put them down on the table. He hung his cane over the edge of the desk before lowering himself slowly into his seat.
"This…" he announced as he carefully removed the first paper from its cover, "is an edition of The Messenger, a local paper. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find the exact date you requested, but this is their Sunday edition which was usually a digest form of what happened the entire week. So, I hope you will be able to find whatever you are looking for in it. However, I have been told that the historical society has a complete archive of every issue of The Messenger on microfilm. So, if nothing else, you could always check with them."
"Thank you," Treize nodded. "I'll keep that in mind." Carefully he accepted the rare magazine as the old man pushed it toward him. He skimmed over the headlines on the front page with Milliardo leaning in closer to get a good look as well. The paper looked old and yellowed by time, but it was in remarkable good condition. The pictures were gray and grainy, but the print crisp and well legible. "So what's in the other bag?" he asked curiously.
"Ah, yes. It's something else I came across; something I thought you might definitely be interested in."
"Oh?"
"It has an article that mentions your ancestor, and even a picture of him."
The professor exchanged a surprised look with Milliardo. "How…?"
A slight smirk crossed the old man's wrinkled face, as he pulled the second paper out and handed it to Treize. "Your name isn't exactly what I would call 'common', Mister Khushrenada. So it's not much of a stretch to assume that you are somehow related to the man in this article. Second page, the article on the left."
"Russian elegance and beauty beats the competition…" Milliardo read the headline above the article.
"Besides," the store owner continued as he gestured at the black and white photo below it. "One would have to be blind not to see the resemblance between the two of you. You even raise your eyebrow in the same way he used to, when you are surprised or curious."
"Not that would be something hard to tell from a picture," Treize remarked in a mixture of amazement and surprise.
The old man's smirk deepened as he leaned over the desk, pointing one finger at the picture in the newspaper. "Can you see the little boy in the crowd in the background, a little difficult to make out, but he is wearing a paddock cap. That boy would be me, waiting to take care of Master Alexander's dogs while he socialized."
"That's you?!"Milliardo asked in disbelief as he looked at the old man, back at the newspaper and finally up again. "But that would me you are at least…"
"One hundred and eight years old," the store owner chuckled. "And I don't feel a day over a hundred."
"That's just... simply amazing." Even Treize found it difficult to wrap his brain around the idea that someone who knew his great-grandfather personally was actually still alive.
"I realize it's been a long time ago," Milliardo said. "But do you remember anything else about the day this picture was taken?"
"Of course I do. My mind is still working fine, now if I just could say the same about my bones…" he laughed. "It was the first day of the Harvest Fair, a three day celebration ending with the Harvest ball. It was an annual event ushering in social season…"
"Social season…" the young man echoed, slightly puzzled.
"During that time most wealthy people would spend their summer at their county manors," Treize explained. "They' return to their city homes in autumn where they would spend the other half of the year throwing and attending lavish parties and social gatherings. However these events were not just plain fun and games. It was their way of social networking, making acquaintances and forging alliances."
"You seem to know a lot about that time, Mister Khushrenada," the old man remarked.
Treize smiled softly. "I'm teaching history," he explained.
"I see. Well, anyway, back to that picture. One of the opening events at the fair was a dog show. Master Alexander hadn't planned to enter the event and I'm not sure what made him change his mind. But I'm glad he did, because it was the only reason he took me along and even bought me a brand new suit and hat for the occasion. I'm not surprised his dog won the show; that hound was by far the most exotic and majestic in town. What was his name again… I think it started with a P."
"Peritas." Milliardo helped out.
"Ah, yes. That's right. How could I forget? I suppose my brain isn't quite that sharp anymore, after all."
"Mister Harold…," Treize remembered reading the name William Harold on the business card he had picked up at his first visit at the store. "How exactly did you and Alexander know one another?"
"My mother worked for him as a maid, cleaning the house and taking care of his laundry when he was in town," the old man explained. "I had just turned seven when she took the job, and she worked for him until he died, little more than a year later. The small public school in town was only in session twice a week, so Master Alexander allowed Mother to bring me along when she came to work on those other days. Now, if you don't mind me asking, Mister Khushrenada. How are you and Alexander related?"
"I'm his great-grandson."
"Really, I will be darned. I never knew he had any children."
"Truth to be told, neither did he," Treize replied. "It's a rather long and complicated story. Say, Mister Harold, is there anything else you can tell me about my great-grandfather; anything at all?"
"Well, let's see… He didn't like children; or so he claimed as he took me aside the very first day Mother took me to his house. 'Children, especially little boys are noisy, they touch things they shouldn't and tend to be not to be very particular about telling the truth. But we should get along just fine as long as you stay quiet and keep your hands of my things. And most of all,' he added 'never lie to me, because I will know if you do.'" The old man chuckled quietly at the memory. "I never doubted that for one second. He could be strict and demanding but also very generous and never unfair. He paid me a penny a day for walking his dog. Mother had no idea about it; it was our little secret, an agreement between gentlemen as he called it. I'd usually take my riches down to the general store and turn them into a couple pieces of toffee or sugar candy. And with Peritas at my side I had never to worry about older boys trying to bully me out of my sweets."
Milliardo laughed. "Sounds like you were quite the clever kid."
"Master Alexander loved a good brandy in the afternoon, and the house was always full of fresh flowers. He liked to read. He never went into town without coming home with a new book…"
"Grandpa…" The door to the backroom opened and a dark-haired boy in his late teens pooped his head through the opening. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't realize you had visitors," he apologized upon seeing the two men with his grandfather.
"What is it, Henry?"
"The store is full of customer, I could use some help."
"I'll right there." The old man nodded then turned toward his guests. "I'm sorry about this."
"Don't be," Treize assured him. "We already have taken too much of your time, anyway. Thank you so much for sharing your memories about my great-grandfather with us."
"It was my pleasure. If you would like to come back, I'd be more than happy to tell you more. We are closed on Tuesdays."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." The old man gave a firm nod.
###
Milliardo pulled up at his parents' house shortly after five, more than thirty minutes later than he was supposed to arrive.
Watching his reflection in the glass of the front door, he tugged at the sleeves of his white dinner jacket before pulling his key from his pocket. However, before he ever had a chance to unlock the door it was opened from the inside.
"Master Milliardo, welcome home." Paigan, the family butler, gave the young man a friendly smile and a slight bow. "What a pleasure to see you again."
"Thank you, Pagain. It's nice seeing you too." Milliardo returned the smile. He genuinely liked the old man who had helped raising him since he was an infant. "Is everyone else here already?"
"I believe so."
"My mother?!"
The butler gestured toward the dining room where Milliardo found her checking the table setting.
"It's perfect, Mom. No one will notice if the centerpiece has 12 red flowers or 13. And once you serve that famous roast of yours," he grinned. "No one will care."
"Milliardo!" she turned to embrace her son who was now a good head taller than she. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thanks. Sorry I'm late."
"Don't worry about it." She gave a good humored huff. "If I'd expected you to be on time I'd have told you to be here by 5:30."
Milliardo grinned. That was just like his mother. "Well, at least I have a good excuse. Noin's flight was late and then it was stop and go on the freeway."
"Ah yes, Miss Noin. How is she? I haven't seen her since the two of you went to the senior prom together."
"She is fine," her son assured her.
"I take it she couldn't make it for dinner?"
"I never invited her?"
"Oh?!"
"I figured she would be tired from the long flight, and since she will be with us most of the day tomorrow she probably wants to spend some time with her family today. So I didn't want to put her on the spot by asking her out tonight."
"Good point," his mother agreed, before she turned her head and called out. "Paigan?!"
"Ma'am?!"
"Please remove one of the place settings; Miss Noin won't be joining us after all."
The butler nodded in acknowledgement. "Right away."
"Where is Lena?" Milliardo asked. It was unusual for his sister not to come flying to greet him when he visited.
"In her room, still getting dressed."
"And what about her 'date'? Is he here already?"
"Yes of course." His Mother gestured toward the closed door of the study. "They have been in there for a good twenty minutes; poor kid. Perhaps you could go to break up the 'interrogation' and let your father know the roast is ready to be carved."
"Will do," the young man laughed.
"And I'll go and see what's keeping your sister."
#
"May I come in?" Milliardo knocked firmly on the door to his father's study.
"Yes, please."
The elder Peacecraft was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, with his guest seated across from him in one of the black leather recliners.
Milliardo had never met the young man; although it was quite possible that he had seen him in school before without realizing it. After Relena had mentioned his name, though, he had done a little research and found out that Heero Yuy was the adopted and, if you listened to rumors, probably illegitimate son of a very successful scientist who raised the boy on his own. When he died in an accident a few years back he left the 16 year old parentless but not penniless. No one seemed to know exactly how large of a trust fund Yuy was living on, but judging by the customized silver Corvette out in the driveway, and the Hugo Boss suit he was wearing, he didn't seem strapped for cash.
"Milliardo, this is Heero Yuy, the young man who will be escorting Relena tomorrow. Mister Yuy, please meet my son, Milliardo." His father introduced them.
Heero rose from his chair to shake hands with the older youth. "Nice to meet you."
"Same here," Milliardo nodded.
"You are alone?" His father wanted to know.
"Yes, I took Noin home, she was tired."
"You know, I was surprised when you mother told me who you were taking as your date. For some reason I had assumed the two of you had lost contact after High School." The older man turned toward Heero to explain. "Miss Noin and Milliardo grew up together; they used to go to the same school from Kindergarten through High School, before she went to Carlton University on a journalism scholarship."
"We kept in touch," Milliardo said. "In fact we talk a lot over the internet."
"Still, coming all this way just for the weekend is very nice of her."
"She was planning on visiting her family soon anyway. So she's just doing it a couple weeks early. Besides, you paid for her roundtrip plane ticket."
"I did?"
"Yeah," Milliardo confirmed, never even blinking. "You will find it on your next credit card statement. By the way, Mom wants you in the kitchen."
"Well, in that case I'd better go and see what she needs. Milliardo, I'll leave you to take care of our guest."
As his father left the study Milliardo turned to the other youth with a soft grin. "I hope he didn't give you the third degree."
"It wasn't so bad. We talked mostly about my father and my upbringing."
"Should we go sit on the patio," the blond suggested. "Dinner doesn't seem to be quite ready yet."
"Sounds good." Heero agreed.
As they made their way through the living room the two of them ran into Paigan, and Milliardo asked the old man to bring a couple of beers outside.
"I bet you never realized what you got yourself into when you so innocently accepted my sister's invitation." Milliardo grinned as they settled down in the white wicker set.
"I really didn't," the other youth confirmed. "Or more precisely, I didn't know enough about the event and what was expected of me. So, I did some research on the internet, but I have to admit I still don't understand the whole concept of a Debutante Ball. The article I read said that originally it was meant to introduce young women to eligible bachelors and their families for the purpose of marriage." Heero looked up, slightly puzzled. "Is Relena looking for someone to marry?"
Somehow Milliardo managed not to burst out in laughter. "Most definitely not," he replied.
"That's a relief. Your father's questions were beginning to scare me."
"Yes," the blond smirked. "He often has that affect on people."
Their conversation was interrupted as Paigan returned with two bottles of beer, glasses and a plate of cheese and crackers. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"That's it, thank you Paigan."
Heero poured his beer, then silently watched the foam slowly subside. "Milliardo, could I ask you a question?" he finally asked. "It's kind of personal, though."
"No, I'm not looking for someone to marry, either," the blond joked.
The other youth flashed him a smirk. "That's unfortunate I'd say, but it's not what I wanted to ask."
"No? Well, then what is your question?"
"You are friends with Duo Maxwell, and Wufei Chang, aren't you?"
"Yeah, we hang out together," Milliardo confirmed. "Why?"
"I was just wondering… umm… do you know by any chance if….uh…Maxwell and Chang are… you know?"
"No I don't?" He gave Heero a puzzled look. "You'll have to be a little clearer, I'm afraid."
"Well… umm," the other youth took a deep breath then blurted out. "Are the two of them seeing each other?"
"Seeing… Oh!" Suddenly it hit Milliardo. "No, I don't think they are more than just roommates and friends."
"In that case," He averted his gaze and stared down into his beer glass, trying to hide the flush of crimson rising into his cheeks. "Would you happen to know if Maxwell is seeing anyone else?"
"I'm not sure, honestly. I have never seen him with anyone, but that doesn't mean anything." Milliardo studied the other youth thoroughly. "Do you have the hots for him?"
The color in Heero's face only intensified and he didn't even bother to deny it.
"Now I have a question for you. Why exactly did you accept Relena's invitation?"
The young man shrugged. "I find Relena interesting. She is very different from most of the girls I have classes with. Besides, she asked nicely."
Milliardo gave a deep laugh. "So, if I ask nicely, you will let me drive that silver bullet of yours?"
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T.B.C.
Author's Note: