Chapter 7: The Hook

In the middle of the night, the phone rang. My hometown still had crank phones in 1954, but it was nothing for our phone to ring at odd hours. Father was, after all, the County Prosecutor, the Sheriff often called him in the middle of the night.

This call, however, was for Wendy. Daddy slipped up the stairs, found Wendy and me in a puppy pile, and woke us both.

"It's Mr. Medawar. Wendy, he'd like to speak to you," relayed Dad. "Wendy, the phone is in the living room. It's long distance. Please hurry."

Wendy yawned, stretched ... her flannel PJ's clung to her newly developing breasts. She saw me looking at her chest and looked down.

"I wonder when that happened? Those weren't there yesterday." She mused, "I suppose I'll be a woman soon." She gave a big sigh.

"The phone, Wendy."

"Oh, right. The living room." Another enchanting yawn and stretch, "I'm on it."

I followed her down the stairs. Where she had been straight from shoulders to hips there were now smooth bumps that swayed ... I don't know why I didn't fall down the stairs.

The phone was next to the hall door. There was a chair for the children to stand on so we could reach the mouth piece. The ability to speak into the mouthpiece was a rite of passage in our house. Grace wasn't tall enough even standing on the chair so she couldn't chat with her friends.

Wendy had to kneel on the chair.

"Yes, Mr. Medawar?"

"No, Mr. Medawar?"

"I wasn't aware of that, Mr. Medawar."

"An adjustment?"

"I'll do my best to convince Mr. Austin to bring me in the morning."

"Certainly, Mr. Medawar."

She handed the ear piece to my Dad, "Mr. Medawar would like to speak to you."

Papa held the ear piece to his ear and leaned in to talk. Wendy slid off the chair, bumping Daddy in the crotch with the top of her head on the way by. He groaned. Wendy moved next to me.

'There's been a mistake in the weight.'

'Mistake?'

'Medawar has his own little furnace for melting down scrap gold.'

'And?'

'Inside the ingot was a platinum box.'

'And?'

'The weight is seven pounds light.'

'And?'

'He recalculated.'

'You are such a tease, and stop stretching.'

'Why?'

'Your new found chest is growing as we stand here.'

'Oh, ' she looked down, 'They have. They seem to have quite an effect on you.' She scratched.

'Oh, God.'

'They itch.'

Daddy tapped her on the shoulder, she looked up, "Yes, Mr. Austin?"

"My calendar is on my desk, would you fetch it please?"

I said, "I can get it, Daddy."

"David, we've been over this a million times ... you don't go in my office, you snoop."

I blushed.

Wendy returned with the desk calendar.

"Yes, Mr. Medawar." Daddy agreed, "I can bring them both in the morning."

"I have to be back in my office by 1P.M."

"Worth my while? Mr. Medawar, I'm an attorney. My 'while' is worth a great deal."

"Does she need to bring the briefcase?"

"Only if it's empty. Yes, Sir."

"8A.M. On the dot."

He hung up.

"Wendy, you heard? We need to be on the road by 6."

"That early?"

"Yes, unless you like oatmeal."

I gagged.

"There's a little diner south and east of town. Their breakfasts are a delight to the eye and a marvel to the tummy."

I complained, "You never took me there."

"You're never up."

"Oh."

'Wait for it, it's coming. My father has a platitude for every one of my faults.'

'Huh?'

"The early bird gets the worm."

'Arrrggghhh'

'I see. Your dad is funny.'

'Stop scratching!'

'They itch!'

'I can help.'

'You wish!'

"Wendy? Are you going to be ok with Mr. Pop Eyes." He pointed at me.

"I can take him, Mr. Austin. He's a wimp."

"We'll make other arrangements soon. I know a carpenter who owes me money. You're becoming a young lady way faster than we planned."

Daddy has a woody! The next thing you know he'll be asking her to call him...

"Charles, Wendy. Call me Charles."