the garment bag resting on a sofa in Palm Beach.
Bogie felt it was almost impossible for him to get a good night’s sleep in the tiny, claustrophobic room. At one point in the night he considered opening the door so he could hang his feet out and stretch out on the bed.
When he reached the McGruder home, Bogie rang the doorbell. He had never been given a key. When James opened the door, the old man looked tired and nervous. Concerned, Bogie greeted him with, “What’s the matter, James?”
“The missus was up again last night and Miss Amanda tried to keep her from leaving the house. She said terrible things to Amanda, accused her of stealing guns from the den and then stormed out the back door. She stood in the yard yelling at the back of Bud’s house, picking up rocks from the garden and throwing them at the house and windows. Thankfully, Jeannie didn’t respond to her. The missus has been deteriorating for years, but Bud’s death has been too much for her.”
“How much has she been drinking?”
James paused to consider if he was betraying family confidences then said. “About a half a quart a day.”
“Before Bud died?” Bogie asked.
James nodded.
“And after?”
“More. And she’s a small woman.”
“And Ann?” Bogie asked.
James stared at him then finally said, “The same.”
“Thanks, James. I figured as much.”
Bogie lifted the bag of groceries. “I brought some treats for breakfast. Where’s Trudie?”
Bogie followed James down the hallway of the quiet house on their way to the kitchen where Trudie had white bread sitting in the toaster and an Entenmann’s coffee cake box resting next to it. Packages of instant oatmeal were lined up beside the coffee cake. With the old fashioned percolator perking, the kitchen had that wonderful smell Bogie always remembered. Bogie hugged the little, round lady and said, “I’m going to steal you away from James. You know I am!” The two old people laughed.
Bogie placed the bag on the counter and said, “I bought some things for breakfast.”
Trudie looked at him surprised. “You can see all the things for breakfast are here. The coffee’s even ready.”
Trying not to hurt the old woman’s feelings, he said, “After I had a heart attack, I had to have open-heart surgery. In order to get better and stay better I needed to change the way I live, the way I eat.”
Confused Trudie asked, “Don’t you eat breakfast anymore?”
Bogie nodded. “I do, but it’s different.” He started removing containers of yogurt, fresh fruit and a box of herb tea from the bag. He lifted a large Cadbury chocolate bar from the bag and handed it to Trudie. “For you…since you don’t need to diet.” He took two packs of Tareyton cigarettes out and handed them to James who thanked him as though he’d handed him gold.
Trudie’s eyes filled with tears and she smiled. “You always remember.”
“Of course, we were neighbors!” Bogie said referring to his assigned bedroom in the house which was on the third floor in the servants’ quarters. “And how many meals have we had together?”
James and Trudie both shook their heads as they sadly remembered the poorly-dressed boy and his cardboard suitcase holding a white slip of paper as he stood at the front door. He awkwardly introduced himself as Boghdun Uchenich and added that his father, Baxter McGruder, was expecting him. Baxter, however, showed him no kindness or hospitality. McGruder instructed James to take the boy to the third floor bedroom so he could put his suitcase down. When the unsophisticated boy returned to the ground floor, he was led to the dining room where Baxter, Elizabeth, their son Bud, and little Ann were already at the table. A bottle of wine was opened as Baxter sat at the head of the table. China plates with the food decoratively placed on them were brought in from the kitchen by Trudie and James. Trying to be polite, Boghdun looked around the dining room and addressed Baxter
Bogie felt it was almost impossible for him to get a good night’s sleep in the tiny, claustrophobic room. At one point in the night he considered opening the door so he could hang his feet out and stretch out on the bed.
When he reached the McGruder home, Bogie rang the doorbell. He had never been given a key. When James opened the door, the old man looked tired and nervous. Concerned, Bogie greeted him with, “What’s the matter, James?”
“The missus was up again last night and Miss Amanda tried to keep her from leaving the house. She said terrible things to Amanda, accused her of stealing guns from the den and then stormed out the back door. She stood in the yard yelling at the back of Bud’s house, picking up rocks from the garden and throwing them at the house and windows. Thankfully, Jeannie didn’t respond to her. The missus has been deteriorating for years, but Bud’s death has been too much for her.”
“How much has she been drinking?”
James paused to consider if he was betraying family confidences then said. “About a half a quart a day.”
“Before Bud died?” Bogie asked.
James nodded.
“And after?”
“More. And she’s a small woman.”
“And Ann?” Bogie asked.
James stared at him then finally said, “The same.”
“Thanks, James. I figured as much.”
Bogie lifted the bag of groceries. “I brought some treats for breakfast. Where’s Trudie?”
Bogie followed James down the hallway of the quiet house on their way to the kitchen where Trudie had white bread sitting in the toaster and an Entenmann’s coffee cake box resting next to it. Packages of instant oatmeal were lined up beside the coffee cake. With the old fashioned percolator perking, the kitchen had that wonderful smell Bogie always remembered. Bogie hugged the little, round lady and said, “I’m going to steal you away from James. You know I am!” The two old people laughed.
Bogie placed the bag on the counter and said, “I bought some things for breakfast.”
Trudie looked at him surprised. “You can see all the things for breakfast are here. The coffee’s even ready.”
Trying not to hurt the old woman’s feelings, he said, “After I had a heart attack, I had to have open-heart surgery. In order to get better and stay better I needed to change the way I live, the way I eat.”
Confused Trudie asked, “Don’t you eat breakfast anymore?”
Bogie nodded. “I do, but it’s different.” He started removing containers of yogurt, fresh fruit and a box of herb tea from the bag. He lifted a large Cadbury chocolate bar from the bag and handed it to Trudie. “For you…since you don’t need to diet.” He took two packs of Tareyton cigarettes out and handed them to James who thanked him as though he’d handed him gold.
Trudie’s eyes filled with tears and she smiled. “You always remember.”
“Of course, we were neighbors!” Bogie said referring to his assigned bedroom in the house which was on the third floor in the servants’ quarters. “And how many meals have we had together?”
James and Trudie both shook their heads as they sadly remembered the poorly-dressed boy and his cardboard suitcase holding a white slip of paper as he stood at the front door. He awkwardly introduced himself as Boghdun Uchenich and added that his father, Baxter McGruder, was expecting him. Baxter, however, showed him no kindness or hospitality. McGruder instructed James to take the boy to the third floor bedroom so he could put his suitcase down. When the unsophisticated boy returned to the ground floor, he was led to the dining room where Baxter, Elizabeth, their son Bud, and little Ann were already at the table. A bottle of wine was opened as Baxter sat at the head of the table. China plates with the food decoratively placed on them were brought in from the kitchen by Trudie and James. Trying to be polite, Boghdun looked around the dining room and addressed Baxter
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