I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. Peter Gunn and Edie Hart own each other. My profit consists of the fun I have with them.
This chapter is dedicated to Melchy, who is always there to answer questions, make suggestions and discuss Pete and Edie.
A Lifetime in Eight Days
Chapter 27: The Peevishness in the PI
The big brown BarcaLounger sitting in the back corner of Jordan's Furniture Store was the same model as the one in Peter Gunn's living room except for the color. Pop liked the light beige of Pete's new chair but the almost chocolate color this one sported was something that would fit in with his décor back home. Not a word he would normally use, but that was the way Mary Ann McAllister always referred to it. A brief smile very much like his son's curved Frank Gunn's lips for a moment as his mind drifted to the woman Pete had begun teasing him about almost from the moment he had learned of her existence. It would be tough to pick up and head home in a few days, but knowing his lady friend would be there when he got back softened the blow somewhat. He sighed a little sigh and sat down in the chair, grasped the arms and pushed back to move it into a semi-reclining position and leaned across to grab hold of the brochure lying on the seat of an almost identical chair to his right. Starting at $119.50. That brought his eyebrows up a smidgen. That wasn't chicken feed by any means. Those were real 1959 American dollars. His eyes found Edie Hart at the other side of the store looking at headboards. That was quite a bit of out-of-pocket money for the girl. Frank turned his head as he sensed someone sitting down in another chair next to him.
"Grandpapa gave Miss Edie a really good deal on that chair she bought the other day," Jimmy Bonelli quietly told him. The boy, a tall rangy kid of maybe eighteen or nineteen, leaned forward in his seat as he watched a couple of other customers browsing nearby. "Way below cost. Told her it was the starter for $119 but it's really one of the high end chairs that usually goes for $189." The younger Bonelli was a dark eyed, dark haired, olive skinned replica of his grandfather Georgio, who was currently busy wandering through the mattress section with Pete. "He would have given it to her for free if she'd let him but she wouldn't. So he fudged a little and made his friend Barney swear not to say anything. She may have figured it out anyway and just let my grandpa have his way, I don't know." The young man shrugged narrow shoulders at Frank's curious look. "Mr. Gunn helped us out last year when one of the rackets started hitting us up for protection money. Not just us but a lot of other businesses in the area, too. We really owe him a lot. Grandpapa would do anything for Mr. Gunn. I just thought you should know that."
Frank nodded as the boy quickly excused himself to wait on a beckoning customer. He sought out his son with his gaze once again, letting it linger for a few moments, another smile touching his lips at the animated conversation taking place between Pete and the elder Mr. Bonelli, before allowing his eyes to drift back in Edie's direction. He watched as she ran a hand along the top rail of an iron headboard and then glanced over at Pete a couple aisles away. After giving the bed frame a final speculative look she turned away and made a slow beeline for the detective, who seemed to have settled on one or the other of two mattress sets he was looking at. Frank saw his son hold out a hand toward the girl while she was still a good ten feet away, sensing she was nearby without even turning to look, his attention on something Mr. Bonelli was saying. Pete nodded, his fingers lacing with Edie's, and the other man smiled and moved away, leaving the man and woman to themselves. Frank's attention was so focused on the couple that he didn't realize the store owner was standing next to him until the other man said something. He looked up at Bonelli, dressed leisurely in a lightweight gray suit and narrow black tie, and gave him a distracted smile as he sat down in the chair his grandson had recently vacated.
"Times they change, no?" The older man leaned back and to the side toward Frank as though sharing a confidence. His voice was thick with an Italian accent direct from the mother country. "When I am young, when you are young." He gave a lazy shrug and motioned with his hands. "You bring fidanzata to do this..." Bonelli nodded toward the couple who were now trying out one of the mattresses, Pete lying flat on his back with arms and legs stretched out, Edie sitting on the side bouncing up and down a little to test the firmness while grinning cheekily at the man. "You are arrested, no? The polizia they come, they throw you in jail." He bellowed a laugh. "Papa comes after you and you run like the dog."
Frank easily translated the one word to mean police but was unsure of the other. And did he really want to know? After as uncomfortable an evening as he had ever spent with his son he had been glad this morning had started out on a brighter note. Part of it had been his own fault and part had been Pete's fault and it had reminded him of those tenuous teenage years that every parent and child endure. It had also brought back memories of those first few weeks after his son had transitÃoned out of the Army after the war, how he had come home with that chip still on his shoulder regarding his mom's death and how he hadn't found out about it until two months after the fact, something that had remained a sore spot between them until just recently.
"Fidanzata?" He hoped his pronunciation wasn't too far off.
Another shrug was his only answer as Bonelli seemed to try to find the correct word.
"Ragazza." The man searched for his grandson and waved him over. "Fidanzata." He motioned toward Peter Gunn and Edie Hart. "Tell me what is the word."
Jimmy smiled and chuckled as though being the old man's translator was something he'd been doing for a long time.
"Fidanzata." The word rolled off the young man's tongue and he gave it some thought, wanting to make sure he came up with just the right meaning. "Ragazza. Donna." His shrug was almost identical to his grandfather's. "Girlfriend, but much more. Betrothed. Fiancee? Something like that."
Frank Gunn blinked and raised a bemused eyebrow and let his attention shift to Edie as she held out a hand to Pete to help him sit up, a wince crossing his face as he gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood up, his arm going around the woman's shoulders as they meandered over to the second mattress set. They sat down side by side, thighs touching, the white linen of Edie's slacks and her rose-hued cotton blouse a marked contrast to Pete's dark gray trousers, light blue striped shirt and dark blue sleeveless cardigan. His dark head leaned toward her blonde locks as they talked, shoulders bumping casually as she said something that brought that certain type of rare smile to his face that only she had the ability to elicit. The one that tipped the corners of his mouth and deepened the dimples in his cheeks and brought that look to his eyes that was reserved for her alone. He certainly appeared to be in a more mellow mood than he had been the previous evening...
Their supper had become tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches rather than the tenderloin steaks Frank had picked up at the meat market late that afternoon. Pete had come downstairs about an hour and a half after he had left the two of them alone in the bedroom, telling him that Edie was showering and would be down in a few minutes. By that time it was already after eight o'clock and way past time for setting up the grill or opting for the broiler. So the steaks would have to wait for the next day. He'd been in the process of heating the soup when Edie came into the kitchen and began gathering plates, bowls and utensils, setting everything on the breakfast bar rather than the dining room table. Frank's keen gaze spotted her red-rimmed eyes, apparent even after the shower she had taken in an attempt to camouflage them, but he didn't say anything, merely went about his business as she and Pete exchanged a few words and sipped on fresh coffee.
"That fellow at your butcher shop up the street remembered me from the last time I was here," Frank mentioned, patiently stirring the soup with a wire whisk. "Can you believe that? It's been what? Almost three years? And I only met him that one time."
"Ernie? He's good at that, good at remembering faces." Pete's reply was an absent one as he sipped his coffee and watched Edie flip through the evening newspaper. His fingers drew circles around the rim of the cup and he allowed his mind to wander. The last time Pop had visited him Edie hadn't existed. Not in his life anyway. He hadn't known her, it would be almost a year and a half before he would meet her. That was hard to imagine. There were times he found it difficult to even remember what his life was like before she came into it. He heard Pop continue to talk but his brain seemed uninterested in forming a response, remained preoccupied instead with thoughts of the woman seated next to him.
Supper was a quiet affair and afterwards Edie had tried to shoo both of them out of the kitchen so she could do the few dishes they had dirtied. Frank had finally obeyed her not-so-subtle hints and headed off into the living room while Pete had managed to resist her charms and remained behind to lend his hand to drying. Some minutes later he joined his dad, folding himself into his recliner as he handed Pop the sports page. Fifteen minutes went by while Frank perused the boxing results, his questioning gaze eventually landing on Pete after finishing the baseball wrap-up and laying the folded paper aside.
"Are we by ourselves tonight?"
Pete's eyes flicked briefly to the closed bedroom door at the top of the stairs then back to the local section he'd been giving desultory attention to.
"Edie decided to give her parents a call and didn't want to bother us."
"Have they been up to visit lately?"
"No." The PI slapped his portion of newspaper together and tossed it toward the coffee table where it ended up hanging precariously over one edge. His headache had returned and he still hadn't heard back from Jacoby about his case file and the last thing he really had any desire to discuss at the moment was Mama and Papa Hart. Luckily Pop seemed to take the hint. But that didn't mean he stopped trying to carry on a conversation with his only offspring.
"You didn't seem to enjoy looking through that box of old pictures as much as I thought you would." He ignored Pete's aggravated shrug. "There are more in the other shoe box. The two smaller boxes have some things of yours that I found when I was rummaging through the basement, things from when you were a kid. Your coin collection. That set of little tin soldiers. The Buck Rogers ray gun your Gramps gave you. Stuff like that. The bag..." Frank paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "There are some things in the bag that I'd like us to look through together, just you and me, if that's all right. Sometime before I leave, doesn't matter when, just whenever we have some time by ourselves."
"Fine." Pete eyed his dad. "When are you leaving?"
"Tuesday morning. I stopped by the airport while I was out today." Frank offered up a smile. "I figure that way I'll still have the opportunity to visit Mother's to listen to Edie sing. Doesn't she go back to work Monday night?"
"Mmm."
The elder Gunn looked at his son in silence for a few moments.
"You shouldn't take things so seriously, Pete."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That picture. You shouldn't have taken it so seriously." He smiled. "It's one of my very favorites of you but probably not for the reasons you think. That was taken in the first real home your mother and I made together. Then you came along and it became more than that. It became the first home we had as a family. That meant a lot to both of us." His smile turned nostalgic. "You were the best thing that ever happened to your mom and me. That picture reminds me of that every time I look at it."
Pete didn't know what to say to that so he remained silent. But the way he looked at Pop spoke volumes.
"I really like Edie."
"I'm glad." Pete's eyes darted to that closed door again. Edie had been on the telephone with Mama and Papa for a while now. He wondered if that was good or bad. "She really likes you too Pop."
"Can I ask you a question?" Frank clasped his hands on his lap and leaned further back into the soft sofa cushion behind his back and waited for his son's response.
"Can I stop you?" Pete's lips straightened into a half smile.
"Do you two ever discuss marriage?"
"We talk." Pete could feel the aggravation returning and the headache worsening.
Frank waited for him to continue. The silence stretched and became uncomfortable by the time Pete decided to say anything further.
"Look, Pop..." He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I know you're probably uncomfortable with Edie being here overnight. I'm sure there are probably a lot of things about our relationship you find awkward or embarrassing." He made an irritated motion with one hand as Pop started to interrupt. "I know her parents feel the same way. Mama thinks I'm some womanizing Lothario who'll leave her daughter at the drop of a hat for the first pretty girl that walks by. She's as much as told me so."
"Pete, I didn't mean-"
"We talk about getting married. We talk about kids." Pete gave a little one-shouldered shrug. "We talk about a lot of things. But you know what? Those things are between Edie and me. No one else. Not Mama. Not Papa. Not even you, Pop. We know each other. We know where we belong. We know where we're going. And we'll know when we get there."
"Would the two of you be back together right now if you hadn't gone through what you did? If you hadn't been almost killed?" Frank saw the irritated tic in his son's jaw as it clenched and then watched as his expression gradually relaxed. "How long do you think it would have taken you to get back together? And I'm not asking because I'm nosy or because I have doubts about your relationship. I know you love each other. I'm asking because I'm your father and I care about what happens to you, about what happens in your life."
"I don't know, Pop. Maybe." Pete gave that same little shrug. "Maybe not. But we would have been eventually. It's never been a question of how long or if or when. Ever. It never will be. It's just a matter of trusting each other to know what's best at any given time. Of having enough faith in each other that no matter what happens we know we'll be able to get through it. Edie didn't like what happened. I didn't like what happened. But we've gotten past it."
Frank held his stare, seeing and believing the truth and commitment he saw there, then slowly smiled.
"If I was uncomfortable with Edie being here overnight I'd find myself a hotel room." He watched his son take a calming breath and release it. "And I can think of absolutely nothing about your relationship with her that I find awkward or embarrassing. It might not be the way I would go about things but it's your life and I respect that."
Pete nodded and abruptly stood.
"I think I'll go to bed." He gave his dad a small smile but his jaw muscle ticked again in irritation. At himself or at him or at something else Frank didn't know. Pete had seemed grumpy since Frank had come home from running his errands and even when he'd acted irritated over the photographs Pop had thought there was something else going on with him. But he'd made enough waves for tonight, he wasn't about to ask what was bothering him. "Maybe a little sleep will get rid of this headache."
Pete had headed upstairs to bed, stopping momentarily on the landing at the sound of Pop's voice.
"Goodnight son."
"...'night Pop."
Frank released a sigh. That had been last night. This morning when the couple had found their way downstairs for breakfast Pete had been in a better mood. Edie had apologized for not coming back down last night after talking with her parents. She said she'd closed her eyes for just a minute and the next thing she knew the alarm clock said it was after eleven and Pete was waking her up just enough to get her under the covers. Over eggs and bacon and biscuits they had informed him they were going bed shopping and that he was welcome to come along.
So here they all were, him sitting in a chair he really liked, listening to a salesman talk Italian to him, his son and his someday in the hopefully very near future daughter-in-law bouncing up and down on the end of a mattress several aisles over. They moved to the side of the bed and bounced a few more times. Then Pete lay down and pulled the girl down next to him and they lay there together staring up at the ceiling and grinning. From there they made their way over to the headboard Edie had been looking at earlier and which Pete seemed impressed with. Frank finally caught up with them as they stood at the counter to pay. Pete filled out a check and signed it and handed it to Georgio Bonelli.
"You're sure you like that one? We can get the softer one if you'd rather have it." He looked at Edie as he waited for a receipt.
"It doesn't matter to me." She wrinkled her nose at him. "You know I can fall asleep on anything. My head hits the pillow and I'm gone. You're the one who tosses and turns all night."
"I don't toss and turn," the man retorted. "I sleep like a rock without a care in the world."
The woman raised amused eyebrows.
"This from a man who sleeps with one eye open and one ear to the ground," she teased. "And a gun under his pillow."
Pete accepted his receipt along with a promise from Mr. Bonelli that the new bed would be delivered sometime between nine and eleven the next day and that the old one would be taken away and disposed of properly. He draped his arm over his girl's shoulders as they left the store, Pop tagging along behind.
"About that gun under my pillow." He gave her shoulder a squeeze and dropped his arm to her waist, his smile tired but happy. "Try not to spread that around. It could ruin my reputation..."