Chapter 9

Brenda had asked me to phone her at seven, but Gerta informed me that we were sitting down to dinner at seven. I decided to try to phone her before dinner, but I still didn't have her phone number. I could either go in and disturb Mr. Parsons again, something I didn't want to do, or else wait and ask him at dinner if he'd get me her phone number. Gerta noticed me just standing there, trying to decide.

"What? Why are you staring at nothing?" Gerta had a superstitious nature, believing in ghosts, goblins and curses. She was ever on the watch for victims of any type of possession. Hans pretended to share her belief, but privately, he laughed at her strange ideas and notions the same as the rest of us. "Are you seeing something over there?"

"No, Gerta, I was wondering if I should disturb Mr. Parsons again. He has a phone number I need."

"The phone number for that Connor girl?"

"Yes, he has it in a book in his desk drawer."

She turned around and went back into the kitchen. It looked like she wasn't going to give me her opinion on the advisability of disturbing Mr. Parsons. A minute later, she was back with a larger black notebook, reciting the Connor number for me. After she had repeated it again, slowly enough for me to understand her accent, I wrote it down on the pad placed by the telephone. I thanked her for getting me the number, relieved at not having to disturb Mr. Parsons again.

I picked up the phone receiver, carefully dialing Brenda's number. At the orphanage, I hadn't been allowed to use a telephone, but I'd observed others doing it, and knew what to do. It was only six o'clock, but I hoped that she had left the club and was already at home. A woman answered on the second ring. She sounded different than either Brenda or her mother.

"Hello, Connor residence."

"May I speak with Brenda, please?"

"Who shall I say is calling, sir?"

"Kenny Masters."

"Please hold the line." There was a delay of several seconds. "I'm sorry, sir, Miss Brenda is away, and she isn't expected back before eight tonight. May I take a message?"

"Would you please tell her that Kenny called, and that I'll call again tomorrow?"

"Certainly sir."

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, sir."

I was disappointed, but at least she would know that I had tried calling her. I went upstairs to shower and to change for dinner. On nights when there were guests, or when Mr. Parsons was at home, we dressed up for dinner. Nothing fancy, but a nice shirt and pants, with dress shoes, for me. Mr. Parsons often wore a suit at dinner. Mrs. Parsons always wore one of her long dresses. She had to have at least thirty of them, all pretty much in the same style. Bea said that she had them made for her by a seamstress. She also told me that Mr. Parsons disliked her wearing that style of dress. He told Bea that it was yet another sign that she was mentally unstable. Bea also said that she thought Mrs. Parsons wore those dresses because she knew how much her husband disliked them.

We were seated for dinner at seven on the button. Mrs. Parsons had come downstairs five minutes before dinner was called. I heard the phone ringing while we were eating the main course, but, Gerta had orders to never disturb any of us during dinner time. At the dinner table, we talked about my tennis tournament with Brenda. Bea thought it was an accomplishment for us to manage to win even one match, but Mr. Parsons said he knew the Lowensteins, laughing at me when I expressed my surprise at beating them.

"Hy and Ethel would have been more surprised if they had won. He's decrepit, and she's slow, slow of foot and brain both. Who did you have in the second round?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Landis."

"They are good. Did you put up a fight, or did they steamroller you two?"

"We lost 6-4, but Brenda played really well. All I did was try to lob everything I could back to the other side of the net. There was this young boy, named Ron. At least that's what I think Brenda said his name was. He could really play. He's only twelve years old. His mother makes him partner with her, and she isn't very good. He was the best player that I saw there."

"Yes, young Taylor. Quite a prospect I'm told. Someone should explain to his mother that she's holding him back from fully developing his game. She's a silly woman though, and probably prefers to think she's helping him."

"Brenda said that if she was his partner, they'd win the whole tournament together."

"Is she good enough to back up her claim? I don't remember seeing her play."

"I think she's good. Of course, I don't have many people to compare her to. She did well today, I was the one who didn't hold up my end."

"Did your offer of penance get you out of the dog house with her?"

"Yes, except she told me that she wasn't even mad at me after that first day."

"And, did you believe her when she said that? It doesn't appear to me that the facts support her contention."

"I'm pretty sure she is no longer mad at me. She asked me to phone her tonight."

This conversation was taking place with me about fifteen feet away from Mr. Parsons. We all sat in our usual places. Bea was seated back in the middle of the other side of the table, equidistant from Mr. and Mrs. Parsons. I was sitting in the first chair on the other side, on Mrs. Parsons right.

"Kenny, did you enjoy competing? I used to enjoy it very much. Not for the glory mind you, but for the sheer joy of testing oneself." This was the very first time I'd ever heard Mrs. Parsons speaking with such enthusiasm at the dinner table.

"We could probably still do well in the mixed, Bertie. I don't remember why we stopped playing." Mr. Parsons seemed to want Mrs. Parsons to speak with him. She seldom spoke to him at dinner for some reason. I think it was because she didn't like to raise her voice. His comment seemed to make her willing to raise her voice then though.

"It was right when Daddy died. We stopped doing a lot of things then. At first we were in mourning, but then, there never seemed to be the same enthusiasm. I thought we both became so much busier after Daddy died." There was something in her voice when she spoke. Not anger exactly, but something that had some emotion tied to it. I couldn't decide if it was sadness or regret. When she finished talking, she was staring right at Mr. Parsons. This was something else she didn't often do.

"Tennis was something we both enjoyed doing together. I think you're right though, your father's death sent deep ripples across the whole surface of our lives. I still miss his advice and counsel. I enjoyed those times we played tennis at the club, Bertie. We were always on the same side then."

"When Daddy died, you got what you'd always wanted, Thomas. A chance to run everything, to finally be your own man."

"No, you're wrong about that, Bertie. But, perhaps soon. With Consolidated, I'll have complete autonomy within my division. Not that I've had any difficulty consulting with you and Bunny about any major changes in operations that I've recommended or undertaken. Still, under the proposed new set up, I'll have full authority. I'll finally be my own man."

"You won't need Bunny or me after the merger goes through. Is that what you're saying, Thomas?" Mrs. Parsons stood up, and asking to be excused due to feeling unwell. Her leaving seemed to upset Mr. Parsons. As soon as Mrs. Parsons turned at the head of the staircase, he too asked to be excused, moving back to his study, and shutting himself back in with all of his papers.

I knew that Mr. Parsons worked hard, partly from what I'd observed when he was home, but mostly because everyone else said that was so. Mr. Chalmers was a lawyer, but it seemed to me that he didn't work nearly as hard as Mr. Parsons did. In over a month, I'd only seen him having fun that one time when we all played golf. He'd gone to a wedding, and some engagement that was business. It didn't seem to me like his life was very good.

Bea moved her place setting down across from me.

"Well, tell me all about it. Did you kiss her?"

"She kissed me. She came up behind me in the bleachers, and kissed the back of my neck."

"What else? What did you do when she did that? Did you feel her up like I told you to?"

"I didn't do anything. She kissed me again, on the side of my face, and put her hand on my leg."

"On your leg? How high up? Did she rub her hand against you, or touch your dick?"

"She hit it by accident, but then she took her hand right away afterwards."

"Kenny, you are such an innocent. The chance she copped that feel of your joint, by accident, is roughly one in a million. Tell me what happened after she did that. Were you still sitting there in the bleachers?"

"We didn't do much after that. We played tennis, and when we won she kissed me again, on the other side of my face. We had lunch before we played tennis, but nothing else happened at lunch."

"What did she order?"

"The fried shrimp, and I had a steak sandwich. We had a nice table by a big window, overlooking the first tee. She asked me some business questions that her father told her to ask me. She thinks too much about money."

"Kenny, you can't think too much about money. So, tell me. What did you do to her after all this? After the tennis."

"I went to call Hans for a ride and she went with me."

"And?"

"That's it. I called him, and then she went back to watch the rest of the tournament. She asked me to call her later. When I called, they said she was still out."

"You better be lying to me, kid. If not, you just screwed the pooch. She kisses you three separate times, and you didn't try anything back with her?"

"No. Those weren't real kisses. She told me the other thing was an accident. After it happened, I said something to her about it, and she got very upset. She's a nice girl."

"Kenny, nice girls are the same as bad girls. She did everything but pull your pants down and suck you off, and you didn't even try to kiss her or cop a feel?"