A Marvelous Monday Read online

“Oh, so you did talk about it,” Lula said with that same accusatory tone.

  “Yes Ma’am, we did,” Zelda replied.

  Quietness eased through the phone, forcing the hairs on Zelda’s arm to stand on end. In the dark of the moment, Zelda heard a sniffle, and old dry hands wiped away tears of pain. The sound of Grandma Lula’s heartbreaking was audible through the phone.

  “Did you happen to discuss what was the plan for the homeless old woman? Or am I going to be parked in a nursing home that smells like bleach and dirty adult diapers? I knew you hated me, Zelda, but this hurts. It’s low, even for you,” Grandma Lula said. “You’re taking everybody with you and leaving me here to die alone with no family.”

  The sobs were loud. Lula mumbled about liking Pip a little bit. She wailed as she told Zelda she was trying to learn to like her hairy man. More accusations got hurled at her ungrateful granddaughter while Zelda held the phone.

  “No plans were made for you, Grandma, because we wanted to sit down with you to see where you wanted to live,” Zelda said. “All of your friends and your church family are in Texas, which made us uncertain if you wanted to be there or here in Kentucky with me and Michael.”

  “You are my family,” Lula said. “I look forward to my Sunday dinners with my grandchildren, even sitting across from your sour face judging my cooking.”

  “Grandma, we just didn’t know what you wanted,” Zelda said.

  “So, you made the decision to write me out your lives? My heart is breaking, Zelda. My heart is shattering into a thousand pieces right now,” Lula said. “I knew you hated me, but this...”

  “Stop being so damned dramatic, Grandma! It is too early in the fucking morning,” Zelda said quicker than she realized. “I was trying to surprise your crotchety old ass and fly you guys up here on Sunday to see the house and meet his family, but you just ruin everything.”

  “What? I’m coming to see your new house?” Lula said, sucking up her tears. “Stop swearing at me or the fires of hell will ring through your soul and cast you down with Satan for all eternity.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Grandma. But, yes, I am sending for you to come to see where I will be living and the community where we will raise our family,” Zelda said. “We wanted you to make an informed decision about whether you want to stay in Texas or move to Ohio or Kentucky near either me or Michael.”

  “Praise His Holy Name,” Grandma Lula said. “I’m coming with ya’ll. I want to see my great-grandson. See your hairy little chil’ren and them funny looking ones Michael’s going to have with Trailer Park Girl.”

  “It befuddles me how you can give the Lord praise in one sentence and insult people in the next,” Zelda said.

  “Easy,” Lula said. “God is good, but he is still working with me.”

  Zelda took a cue from Pip and went straightforward in her next words with Lula. “You might want to work a little harder on your end. The time clock on your chances for redemption is about to run out of juice,” she said to her grandmother.

  “I’m still kicking, just not high,” Lula said, laughing as she wiped her runny nose. The line was quiet again, and Zelda’s bathwater had grown cold. Time was up for her as well and she needed to get out of the water and on with her day. She waited because Grandma Lula always had to have the last word. This conversation wouldn’t end any differently.

  “Zelda, sweetie,” she said. “I hope I’m getting my own place at one of them retirement communities that give you a golf cart. I want to be close enough to you if I wanted to drive but far enough away for a nice ride out for a visit. Understand?”

  “I hear you, Grandma,” Zelda said.

  “Good,” Lula said. “Do I get to ride in the private plane. too?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Zelda said.

  “Oooh, this is exciting,” she said. “Wait ‘til I tell all them nosey old biddies at the church. They gone be green with envy.”

  Then she hung up. Zelda sat in the cold water, realizing she’d been played by an old hustler. A golf cart? Really.

  “I should trick her old ass and blindfold her, then drop her off at Sunny Acres in downtown Houston,” Zelda said, pulling the plug in the tub. “I’m kicking Michael’s ass. He’s going off for a year and leaving me with that old woman. I should fix him, too, and stuff her in Pip’s suitcase like her Pippi doll.”

  “Zelda,” Scott called from the bedroom. “Are you talking to yourself?” He’d changed his mind about the swim.

  “Yes, I am, but don’t mind me,” she called back. “I’m just having a nervous breakdown. It will be over soon.”

  Chapter Two - A Wonderful Wednesday

  Chandler was a no-show for breakfast, raising Zelda’s eyebrows. She missed his presence. It bothered her that the butler would feel it necessary to clean up behind her as well as Scott, which prompted her to seek him out. Scott stopped her.

  “We will see him when we get back,” he said. “I want to get you over to the Museum, see the office, my office, then I have a couple of surprises in store.”

  “I like surprises, but I am more concerned about Chandler’s absence this morning. Is he at the market?” she asked, wanting to know what was happening with her big guy’s best buddy.

  “He’s taking care of a few things for me,” Scott said. “We have to make some adjustments with your family arriving on Sunday− rooms have to be opened and aired out, that kind of thing. Plus, he was seeing to Diamond’s needs.”

  “Oh crap, I nearly forgot about my poor baby,” she said. “I will also need a few more treats for her. Is she coming with us today?”

  “I prefer not, but if you want,” he said, looking at his watch. It was time to get moving. “We need to jet.”

  “Okay,” she said, stuffing a sausage in her mouth. The chicken sausages were so tasty, she wrapped two in a napkin to take with them. “Let me load the dishwasher really quick and we can get moving.”

  “I’ll get the car,” Scott said, rising to take keys off the shelve.

  “Wait. You’re driving?” she said, shocked. Since meeting her handsome hunk, she’d never known him to drive. Chandler chauffeured him to all his destinations. A sense of nervousness washed over her at the thought of him behind the wheel.

  “Zelda, I know how to drive,” he said, smiling at her. “I just didn’t before because of my eyesight. Driving in the dark was difficult. My eyes are fixed now. I can see just fine.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt your abilities,” she said, surprised at her reaction. This was the first time she ever questioned Scott’s ability to do any task.

  “If it makes you feel better, I can ride shotgun and you drive,” he said, offering her the keys.

  She didn’t plan to start their life this way – questioning him. The darkness of doubts was swiped away like a bad selection on a dating app. New day. New happy thoughts. You are moving forward, Zelda. Let go and trust.

  “No, I get to ride shotgun and toy with your junk as you drive,” she said with a toothy grin.

  “Then we’ll certainly to have an accident,” he said, chuckling. “The moment you put those hands on me, my IQ drops and I all can think about is man wants pretty woman.”

  “Aww, you think I’m pretty,” she said, shimmying her shoulders.

  “Zelda, I think all sorts of great things about you,” he said. “Waking up next to you, going to bed next to you. Marrying you. Having children, raising a family and spending the rest of my life with you as well. I love you with everything in me.”

  She didn’t know why. It was the darnedest thing to happen to her during the past few days, but she began to cry. The tears began to flow as if someone had turned on the taps with the intent to flood the kitchen.

  “Oh Baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Scott said, enclosing her in the large arms that made her feel safe.

  “It’s just me,” she said. “I’m so emotional lately. I don’t know what’s going on with me and my feelings. I seem to be sitting right smack
in the middle of them, toying with each one on a string. It’s just odd.”

  “Consider it to be a soul cleanse,” he said, releasing her. Large fingers wiped away the tears as he handed her a handkerchief from his back pocket. Michael, her brother, always carried a white handkerchief as well. She dabbed at her cheeks, trying not to mess up the faint amount of makeup she wore.

  “I’m okay, Scott. Really, I am,” she said folding the handkerchief and putting it in her purse. “Let me set the dishwasher and we can go.”

  Sniffling, she closed the door on the dishwasher, set the cycle, and smiled at him. “Let’s see these offices,” she told him, accepting the arm he extended and heading into the garage. Today he would drive the shiny black Porsche he’d loaned her before. She really liked the car and realized, she would need a new one herself.

  Maybe a four-door?

  An SUV?

  Easy access for a car seat in a year or so.

  Then the tears began again as Zelda stared out the window, not wanting Scott to see that she was an emotional wreck.

  THE BERGER VENT COMPANY sat on a hill overlooking the Berger Vent Museum. It was an older building, updated with modern features and a warehouse attached to the work floor. The glass entry doors opened into a wide foyer filled with glasses cases that held all the ventriloquist doll models created over the lifespan of the company. She stopped in front of the Danny doll.

  It was creepy even behind the glass. She leaned her head right and it seemed as if the eyes followed her when she moved her head back to the left. With her feet planted solidly, she perused the other cases, shuddering, the eyes of all the dolls appearing to have shifted to stare at just her.

  “Eww!” she exclaimed, running in the wedge heels to Scott’s side. “I am officially creeped out.”

  He laughed. “A lot of people have that reaction at first. I put motion sensors in the eyes of the dolls so that when you move, so do their eyeballs. They are actually watching you.”

  “That is messed up, Scott,” she said to him, gripping his arm.

  “Yeah, but it is fun to watch people’s reactions,” he said, waving to the receptionist in the lobby. He pressed the button for the elevator and they rode up to the third floor. There were only three floors in total. The second floor held the doll makers’ workstations of and the third floor housed the sales and marketing offices of and a two-man R & D staff. Scott introduced her to all the employees.

  His office, located on the opposite end of the building next to the boardroom, was brightly painted in primary colors. He boasted that he’d only recently had it redone since he’d started dating her, commenting that the old set up was dull. “You brought a lot of color into my world,” he confessed.

  “You already had color in that crazy house of yours,” she said. “But this is good to see. I want to make sure that when we, and I use the ‘we’ loosely, start to redecorate, it is important to me to maintain the original feel of the rooms.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said. “May I ask what you are thinking about doing to the rooms in the house and pod?”

  “Nothing major,” she said. “Removing all the shag carpets, keeping one wall the same colors that you currently have, then painting the others in neutral tones to enhance that pop of color.”

  “I like,” he said, opening the door to his offices. An older woman behind a desk stood up, giving them both a wide smile. “Carolyn, this is...”

  “Oh, I need no introductions,” Carolyn said, walking around the desk to shake Zelda’s hand. “Ms. Fitzsimmons, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

  “You as well, Carolyn,” she said.

  “Carolyn, I am still on vacation until Monday and am only here to show Zelda the offices. We’re heading to the Museum next. Zelda will be taking over the publication, giving it a fresh look, more engaging stories and the like,” Scott said.

  “Wonderful! So glad to hear it,” Carolyn added with a wide toothy grin. “Welcome to the Berger Vent family.”

  “I’m looking forward to this new leg of my journey,” Zelda said, releasing the warms hands which enclosed her own. She liked Carolyn a great deal. She liked Scott’s office even more.

  “This is nothing like I imagined it to be,” she said to her big guy. Her shoes clicked over the hardwood floors, which shone as if a guild of elves hand polished the wooden planks while working on their little knobby knees. The large desk, simple, yet wholly masculine, held little on the mahogany wood top apart from a monitor, phone, and docking station for his laptop. Gentle whiffs of his cologne filled the room as if the ghost of Scott Berger had walked through, leaving pockets of his pheromones throughout the space.

  “Here is where I run the company and oversee the museum, magazine and the convention,” he said.

  “I love this space,” she said. “I hope my new workspace is clean like this. You can hear yourself think in a workspace like this.”

  The look on his face made a knot form in her stomach. His lips were tight as he looked down to check his watch. Exhaling loudly, she semi-braced herself for the nonsense his body language and facial expressions alluded to, and her fingers tightly gripped the strap of her purse.

  “The office at the museum is a hot mess isn’t it?” she asked, pressing her free hand to her belly.

  “Yup,” he said. “My Dad is kind of a mad scientist. He is loveable and a great father, but there is a great deal of work to be done. Not just for the magazine, but that office space.”

  “Well, let’s not dawdle. Introduce me to the monster Dr. Frankenstein has been living with,” she said, scowling.

  After waving farewell to Carolyn. Scott escorted Zelda out the glass doors to the elevator. He was reluctant to take her to the offices, but she needed to see the workspace and envision herself as the head of the Berger Vent Magazine. Pressing the button for the elevator car, he offered her a warm smile filled with love as they left the building.

  Scott squeezed into the driver’s seat of the Porsche. His long legs barely fit under the steering wheel. The seat was pushed back as far as it would go, and Zelda watched him maneuver the gears as they rolled down the hill to the Berger Vent Museum. It wasn’t a large building, but a small farmhouse converted to hold the dolls. The white front door led them into a former living room, now occupied by hundreds of immobile former stars. Fear held her hostage at the sheer number of dolls sitting around on furniture while hundreds of frozen in place glass eyes stared at her like she was the last act of the night. The eyes challenged her to amuse them. Rows of dummies lined the walls, sitting in chairs, lounging on sofas, or parked in rows like theater-goers on opening night.

  “Dear Jesus!” Zelda said, turning to run, but Scott caught her arm.

  “You get used to it,” Scott said.

  “The hell you say! Who in their right mind could get used to seeing this every damned day?” Zelda asked, scrambling under his grip to get away. A familiar voice called out to her.

  “Zelda! Hey girl,” Pip called out. “Hey, Scott! How are you guys doing?”

  “We are great, Pip, how are you?” Scot replied.

  “Scott is lying to you, Pip. I’m not alright. This is freaking me out. So many eyes. So many dummies,” Zelda said, still scrambling to get away. Her legs were moving but the body was running in place.

  “It’s not so bad, you get used to it,” Pip said. “I come in the back entrance to the offices so I don’t have to walk into this every day I come to work.”

  “Backdoor. I want to come in through the back entrance, too, Scott. Let me go!” Zelda said, squirming her way out of his hands and bolting for the door. She stood outside the building, quickly reaching the point of hyperventilation, thinking she could never work in the building with all those dummies.

  He joined her on the sidewalk, saying nothing, just slipping his hand inside of her own, leading her around the side of the building to the rear of the museum. The second building was in the rear, medium-sized, yet connected to the main stru
cture. He used his keycard to open the door, leading Zelda through the narrow connector into the larger warehouse-style workspace. More dolls sat, waiting for repairs as if the doctor was on the golf course and late getting back to the office.

  “I don’t think I can work here,” Zelda said.

  “Let me show you the space first,” Scott said.

  He led her down the hallway, past more dolls missing legs, arms, and eyes. Zelda’s hands were fisted at her sides, careful not to make contact with anything. Pip quietly followed along behind them, eager to show off her cubicle. French doors allowed Zelda to peek into the world of the Berger Vent workspace, and to her surprise, it wasn’t totally unpleasant. Well, that was until he opened the doors.

  The workspace was filled with the unfortunate odor of corn chips, sour pickles, and something reminiscent of a bad night in a bordello. Two heads popped up over the cubicle walls, grinning at them, giving warm thickly accented greetings.

  “This my desk over her, Zelda,” Pip said, pointing to the space littered with Pippi Longstocking collectibles.

  “Everyone, this is Zelda Fitzsimmons,” Scott said to the crew. She offered a tentative wave.

  Gary Wint, a collector of mini troll dolls, which covered his workspace, announced himself as the curator of the museum. Anna Robertson, the media specialist, also served in the capacity of the new digitization project leader for the archives of the museum. Pip, who often wrote and oversaw the grants, worked as an archivist and data collector of historical references for the museum.

  “My father is the president of the Museum,” Scott said. “He also oversees the Berger Vent Mag, which you will be taking over. There is a free office in the rear next to his. We have to clean it out since Daddy used it store his stuff.”

  Pointing in the direction of the office, Zelda made her way to the new space she would call her work home. The door hinges creaked as she opened the glass door, surrounded by a white wooden frame. Dust bunnies scampered across the floor alerting the spider webs that new prey had entered their domain. Two large windows, covered in a light film of dirt, winked at her through the grime. Outside the windows was the most gorgeous scenery anyone would ever wish to have as a backdrop to their workspace. The scenery reminded her of a Thomas Kincaid painting come to life. Ducks floated on a small pond as a park bench sat close to the edge. The trees provided shade to the mallards, thankful to be out of the direct beams of harsh sun rays. To Zelda, it made up for the piles of files, books, and yellowing sheets of paper that covered the barely seen desk.