Saturday at the consulate...
Fraser pushed the number two pencil behind his ear for the hundredth time that afternoon as the florist delivered the center pieces for the dinner with the Ecuadorian delegation. The mountie's clipboard had a long line of check marks down the column of to-do's. It wasn't any wonder that Fraser wasn't married, he spent half of his free time at the consulate doing Mr. Gordon's bidding. It was more insufferable than working for Inspector Meg Thatcher, at least she was a good kisser. Anal retentive witch or not, Fraser missed her.
"Constable Fraser, has the catering service arrived yet?" Gordon asked, a sharp glean to his dark eyes, his jaw working in agitation.
"Yes, Sir, ten minutes ago, ahead of schedule I might add." The cheerful mountie briefly cracked a smile, his schedule rhyming with shed.
"Have the musicians arrived and set up?"Gordon pressed on, rechecking Fraser's list.
"Yes, Sir, they're in the dining hall as we speak."
"Very well, when the delegation arrives message me, I have to pick my suit up from the cleaners." Gordon brushed imaginary lint off of the dark brown suit he currently wore.
"I took the liberty of collecting it from the dry cleaners this morning, it's hanging in your office." Gordon stopped in his tracks. Fraser irritated him to no end sometimes. The Chief liaison officer walked away without a word. Fraser turned back to his list, a million things yet to be done and Turnbull to manage.
Scene Break
"Aunt Maggie, where did um, Fraser go?" Ben winced at saying Fraser's name. He didn't know if he wanted to call him dad or by his first name. Ben knew he'd have to call him something eventually.
"Benton had to go to the consulate, there's a dinner party there tonight for a delegation of Ecuadorian trade experts, he should be back before dinner." Maggie looked at her nephew and saw the disappointment in his green eyes.
"He was supposed to teach me how to play hockey." Ben sighed as he turned and walked back to the living room. Maggie shook her head, she'd known Benton had agreed too quickly the night before.
"I know, he felt badly about having to work today." Maggie called out as she flipped a pancake over in the cast iron skillet.
"I know." Was all he said. From the living room Maggie heard the television switch on and the sound of an old cartoon play. She wondered if bringing him to Chicago had been the right decision. If Benton didn't shape up Maggie considered taking the boy as her own.
After a breakfast of pancakes, sausage links, scrambled eggs and hash-browns Maggie took Ben on a tour of the city. They outlined several famous buildings and bridges made famous over the last century and a half. The distinctive skyline of the city didn't lift the boy's spirits at all. A lunch of deep dish pizza, cheesy and piping hot, didn't even tempt the teen out of his mood. The aroma of warm, tomato based sauce and three different cheeses made Maggie's belly button take a bite out of her backbone before they were served a large, fresh pizza. Garlic and oregano were only two of the dozen or so spices that either of them could identify as they sat in a small restaurant at the counter. Colorful glass bottles filled with spices and unusual shaped pastas decorated a black, metal spice rack behind the cash register. Italian flags were hung on each wall as well as the window along the street. When Maggie's cell began to jangle she wondered who could be calling her.
"Hello," She frowned as she listened to the small, mobile device. The off-duty mountie began to smile brightly. "Wonderful, we'll be ready at eight o'clock." Ben looked at her with such a puzzled, innocent expression as she talked. "That was Fraser, we've been invited to the dinner party tonight, I'll have to wear my one, good dress and, oh dear." Maggie frowned, her sky blue eyes looking about her in absentminded thought.
"I don't have anything nice to wear." Ben finished her thoughts.
"I wonder how much difference there is in yours and Fraser's sizes?" She turned a scrutinizing eye toward the boy. He was nearly a head shorter than Benton and considerably narrower across the shoulders yet. Besides, Benton probably didn't have a civilian suit. "We'll have to do a little shopping." She smiled, a certain devilish gleam in her pale eyes.
Later, at the consulate...
Guests dressed in tuxedos and ball gowns walked around with self satisfied smiles plastered on their faces, all of them wishing they could be home in their pajamas and slippers. Ben felt out of his element among all the adults dressed so finely. Maggie looked positively polished in her velvet dress and up-swept, blonde hair. When Ben first saw Fraser he wondered at the subtle difference in his uniform. Aside from a polish on his boots that the boy could see his reflection in and a few minor pieces of paraphernalia Fraser didn't look any different.
"Good evening, you both look quite nice this evening." Fraser held the door open for Maggie as she navigated the consulate foyer. From inside the dining hall she could hear Constable Turnbull talking about the differences between Inuit tribes' marriage ceremonies. He came out of the hall carrying a tray of champagne, his eyes immediately taking on a sparkle.
"A hello Maggie, wonderful to see you again so soon," Turnbull launched into a barrage of questions about their stay in Chicago. Ben watched the conversation in silence, unsure of what to do with himself.
"Have you eaten dinner yet, Ben?" Fraser asked quietly, trying to find something to say to the boy. Getting to know people closely was an art that the mountie was still perfecting.
"Yeah, Maggie and I made sandwiches." The boy shrugged, trying not to squirm.
"Help yourself to the buffet table if you'd like." Fraser pointed to the far end of the dining hall where a line of adults filled plates with chicken, fish or steak beside dishes Ben didn't recognize. Maggie waved as she continued listening to Turnbull. Fraser walked beside him, smiling politely at anyone he made eye contact with.
"What's this dinner party all about anyway?" Ben asked as he added only the things to his plate that he could identify.
"It's a chance for the Ecuadorian trade experts to discuss matters with our own experts and to socialize." Fraser answered.
"All this fuss to talk about money." The boy shook his head. Adults didn't make sense most of the time.
"Yes, seems a bit unnecessary to me as well." The mountie checked his watch for the tenth time that night.
"Is this what you wanted to do when you became a mountie?" Ben couldn't imagine anyone wanting to shuffle papers all day and be polite to strangers.
"No." Fraser stated firmly and without hesitation.
"Why did you join the RCMP then, the Santa suit?" Ben grinned as he added a yeast roll to his plate.
"That's a very good question, I suppose it was because my father was an RCMP officer, one of the greatest." The mountie fiddled with one of the highly polished, gold buttons lining the front of his uniform as he spoke, his eyes looking out into the distance.
"What have we here, Constable Fraser?" Mr. Gordon walked up to them briskly, a broad smile on his angular face.
"Mr. Gordon, good evening, I was just explaining the purpose of this event to Ben." Fraser still felt odd saying his own name, knowing it applied to his son.
"If anyone knows it would be Constable Fraser here." The fake smile on Gordon's face didn't fool anyone. He was in mingle mode and had had that cheesy grin on his face all evening. Gordon spotted someone he'd rather talk to and excused himself.
"Is he for real?" Ben raised one eyebrow in disgust.
"Mr. Gordon isn't really all that bad." Was all Fraser could say that wasn't insulting. For a while the pair stood watching the crowd move around them like ants in an ant farm.
"Constable Fraser, Mr. Velasquez has a question about baseball, I know you went to a Cubs game yesterday." Mr. Gordon pointed toward a well dressed man half a head shorter than Fraser. He seemed like a jovial sort of fellow, with a broad smile and excited eyes. Fraser tapped Ben on the shoulder and took his leave of him.
"I haven't been properly introduced young man, I'm Mark Gordon, Constable Fraser's, uh, boss." Gordon looked down a bit at the young fellow standing near him. Ben knew the beady, wanting expression on the man's face.
"Tell me about your mother." Gordon decided to go with the direct approach as he gazed into two very suspicious green eyes.
"One Victoria Metcalf, convicted bank robber, now doing fifteen years to life in an Alaskan prison, the money never found and I don't know where it is." Ben took a smartaleck tone of voice, what did he have to lose?
"Like father like son." The chief liaison officer eyed the mountie's son with a sour expression. Ben simply took his plate and found a table near the kitchen.
"Not very polite of you," Maggie sat down beside her nephew at the table, cheesecake on her plate.
"I'm sorry Aunt Maggie." Ben sighed, twirling his fork in his fingers.
"How Mr. Gordon acts reflects badly on him, not on anything you've done." She squeezed his free hand and gave him a million dollar smile.
"I get tire of answering questions, I don't know where Mom hid the money, or if there's any money to be hid." The young man grumbled.
"Eventually it will all be forgotten." The lady mountie tried to sound optimistic.
"People have been asking since I can remember and I still don't have the answers, I never will." Ben gripped the fork tightly, his knuckles turning white. All Maggie could do was be quietly supportive. By ten o'clock Ben was sleepy and Maggie was tired of talking to strangers.