Reuniting Dysfunctional Families

Brad Schuyler was happy to be back home. After taking off a year earlier, he’d expected to go out into the world and meet people who were different—and more pleasant—than his own family. And while he had met a lot of interesting people, he’d also been surprised at how much he missed his own dysfunctional clan.

Of course, there was more to his return than mere homesickness but Brad didn’t want to think about that at the moment. What he wanted to think about was mending fences and try to make his mother and his brother into the family that he wanted.

With that thought in mind, Brad drove to the Schuyler Square Country Club to find his mother. He really had been an absentee son for most of the past year with only a rare text serving as communication between the two of them. Brad had issues with his mother. He had issues with his brother and his late father too. But life was way too short to be cluttered up with a lot of old childhood injustices. At least, that’s what Brad told himself.

The club was crowded that night. Walking through the lobby, Brad spotted several familiar faces—professors he had known while attending Schuyler Square College, old girlfriends, some acquaintances from high school. It was odd; like walking through a yearbook. Most of the people who spotted him smiled in recognition but a few looked the other way. Well, that wasn’t too big of a surprise. The old Brad hadn’t been the nicest guy in the world. As his father had always said, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

In the dining room Brad spotted his mother immediately. She was sitting at a corner table and for a moment he didn’t recognize her companions. Brad squinted. Good heavens, was that Rosanne his mother was having dinner with? Their cleaning lady? Maybe he wasn’t the only one who had had an epiphany or two over the past year. Stepping behind a large potted palm, Brad watched. Rosanne looked great. Her hair was a new shade of blonde and she looked like she’d lost weight. He recognized the man sitting with them as Rosanne’s husband, Mike. Things had seriously changed if his  mother would be seen in public with the help.

“Brad? Is that really you?”

Turning, he saw an attractive woman standing next to him. Mindy Something. She worked for the paper and they’d gone to high school together. “Hi, Mindy,” Brad replied.

“What are you doing here? Does Tyler know you’re back?”

“Tyler?”

“Your brother,” Mindy prompted. “He does know you’re back in town, doesn’t he?”

“Ahhh, not yet,” Brad replied. “I’m surprising him. I’m surprising everyone in my family.” He gestured across the room. “Starting with my mother.”

Mindy raised her eyebrows. “This should be fun.”

A shriek interrupted them. “Brad? Is that my baby?” A flurry of beige linen flew across the room and landed in Brad’s arms.

“Hello, Mother,” he said.

Schuyler Square Day 132 Vlad Likes Zombies

"I'd love a zombie."

Mavis laughed. "I know how to make a martini, Vlad. I don't have the faintest idea of how to make a zombie."

Vlad rose from the sofa smoothly and headed for the bar. "I'll make it," he announced. "I'll make you one too," he offered.

Mavis shook her head. "No, thank you. I don't believe I'd care for one."

Vlad fixed her with a wicked grin. "You never know until you try, Mavis."

Oh, dear. This man was too suave for her own good. He reminded her of a Cold War spy straight out of "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." Mavis knew that she needed to keep her senses about her but she had to admit that Vlad was quite attractive. Really, far too attractive for her late sister-in-law to have snagged. "I'll stick with my usual, thanks just the same."

Vlad shrugged as he busied himself behind the bar. "Your choice. I never force my taste on anyone else but especially not on beautiful woman. You are a beautiful woman--you know that, don't you, Mavis?"

"Of course," Mavis said.

"I like how you don't pretend to be modest. Modest women are so boring. I can tell that there's nothing boring about you."

"I've been called many things but boring isn't one of them," Mavis agreed.

Vlad returned to the sofa with his drink. He looked good sitting next to her, far better than Peter had. Peter was probably a little more handsome than Vlad but Vlad had a much stronger personality. A more masterful presence. A shiver ran down Mavis's spine. It would be nice to be involved with someone masterful. "So," Vlad began, "let's begin."

"Begin what?"

"Begin to talk about why I'm here, Mavushka."

Mavis blinked. Why was Vlad sitting in her living room in front of a blazing fire and sipping a zombie? Oh, right. Her niece, Tiffany. His maybe daughter. "I suppose you want to see Tiffany."

"That would be nice but first I'd like to hear about her. What's she like? Does she look like me?"

Mavis squinted at Vlad through slightly martini fogged eyes. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if Tiffany resembled Vlad. Tiffany with her blonde hair and full figure was a dead ringer for her mother. "Not really."

"Does she look more like Lynette's husband?"

"No..."

"Then who does she look like? The milkman?"

Vlad's temper seemed to be of the hair trigger variety. "She looks like Lynnette. Tiffany is a Schuyler, through and through."

Vlad relaxed slightly. "I'm sure her personality is more like mine. I'm sure that's she's an extremely intelligent, charming young woman."

"Well," Mavis began, "she isn't what you'd call an honor student and she really isn't all that charming around me but that might be because she's a teenager. I've never met a truly charming teenager. Why don't I have her over for dinner tomorrow and you can come too?"

Vlad's eyes darkened. "And that other man--her possible father?"

"I won't tell Tom that you'll be here. It will be our little secret."

Vlad reached out and took Mavis's hand. "Mavushka, I like the way you think," he told her. "I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

Mavis smiled back at him. It certainly seemed like the start of something...

Schuyler Square Day 95 Dee Dee Wants to Know More About Mavis

"Well, was that a colossal waste of time or what?" Steve asked his wife Dee Dee the morning after the seance.

"I wouldn't say it was a colossal waste of time," Dee Dee responded. "Everyone seemed  to like the goodies we served and we did get a clue. Mary told us that whoever killed her lives in Schuyler Manor."

"Honey, Mary Austin didn't tell us a thing."

"She certainly did! The Ouija board didn't spell out 'Schuyler Manor' all on its own."

Seeing that he'd never be able to change Dee Dee's mind, Steve put two pieces of bread into the toaster. "I hope you're going to let this whole thing drop now. I noticed that the house was very quiet last night. If that was Mary Austin, maybe she'll go away and start haunting Schuyler Manor."

"That would be nice," Dee Dee said. "I'm getting tired of sleeping with one eye open. Do you suppose I should drop in on Mavis Schuyler and tell her what happened?"

"That might be a tad presumptuous."

"I don't know--I appreciated it when people told us about our house and its history. Besides, maybe when I'm there I could figure out who Mary was talking about."

"It had to be Ron Schuyler and he's dead," Steve pointed out.

"It could be someone else living at Schuyler Manor."

"Who? Mindy told you that the only people there are Mavis Schuyler, her son Tyler and her niece Tiffany. If Mary Austin was telling us that whoever murdered her is living in Schuyler Manor--and that's a very big if--it had to be Mavis and I'm sorry, honey, but I can't buy that?"

"Why not?"

"Because I've seen Mavis Schuyler and she doesn't strike me as the violent type."

Dee Dee raised an eyebrow. "If she found out that her husband was having a thing with Mary Austin, I guarantee you that she could become the violent type. Remember--'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"

"I still think Mavis would use her scorn in the divorce court."

"Maybe but I'd like to know for sure. I think I'm going to drop in on Mavis and do a little snooping."

"There's no way I can stop you, is there?"

Dee Dee planted an affectionate kiss on her husband's nose. "Has there ever been?" she inquired.

Schuyler Square Day 81 Tiffany Gets Pulled In

"How long do you suppose he's staying here?" Tiffany asked Rosanne. She was seated at the kitchen table staring dismally at a small glass of tomato juice and a tiny dab of peanut butter on a celery stalk. So this was a low calorie meal. It sucked. If it wasn't for the fact that almost nothing in her closet fit she wouldn't be bothering with this spartan nightmare.

"Do you mean Officer Van Husen?" Rosanne asked, her voice slightly reproving.

"Oh, don't be like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like a servant. You don't have to call him 'Officer Van Husen.' You can call him what I do: The Creep."

"Tiffany, I am your aunt's servant. That's my job. I'm her maid and it's nothing to be ashamed of. But even if I didn't work for your aunt, I would still call her guest Officer Van Husen. That's nothing more than simple human respect."

Tiffany took a bite of celery and peanut butter and chewed loudly. "Whatever. So when do you think he's leaving? I can tell Aunt Mavis wants him to go. She looks at him like he's a bad smell leftover from a pair of rancid sneakers. He's overstayed his welcome by about a month now."

"It's really none of our business," Rosanne said.

"The hell it isn't! I live here too and I'm tired of tripping over him all the time and I'm tired of having him in the background whenever I walk into a room. The romance is definitely over, don't you think?"

"Tiffany, I'm not going to discuss this with you or anyone else." Rosanne left the kitchen.

Tiffany glared at her retreating back. Rosanne was worse than a servant--she was subservient. Well, maybe she couldn't get St. Rosanne to agree with her, but Tiffany knew she was right: The Creep had worn out his welcome and it was just a matter of time until Aunt Mavis figured out some clever way to get rid of him.

Maybe I can help. But how? His wife knows about his affair so blackmail is out. That leaves work.


Tiffany concentrated hard for several long moments but came up blank. Oh, great. That meant she'd have to ask Tyler what to do. Yuck. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Schuyler Square Day 70 Peter Settles In

Sitting in a large leather recliner, a glass of cognac in one hand and a fancy television remote control in the other, Peter Van Husen sighed with pure happiness. All he needed was a cigar and someone to rub his feet and he'd be in heaven. There was no doubt about it: Peter liked living in Schuyler Manor. Who wouldn't? The house was huge, there was a full-time maid who brought him BLT's around the clock and he was with Mavis whenever he wasn't at work. Of course, he also had to deal with Tyler and Tiffany but Tyler seldom came out of his room except to sneer at Peter every so often and Tiffany had set up permanent residence in the den where there was a gigantic television set and a bar stocked with junk food. From what Peter could tell, none of the members of the Schuyler family liked spending much time together. They all seemed to prefer alone time.

Even Mavis.

Peter frowned, his cloud of happiness deflating just a little. Two weeks had passed since he'd moved in with Mavis and while Peter loved his new lifestyle he had the feeling that his new other half wasn't quite so sold on the idea. Mavis had begun making snipping comments about where he dropped his socks at night and rolling away from him in bed much too often. It had gotten to the point where Peter felt the need to remind Mavis daily that she'd been kidnapped and that his being there was not only for fun between the sheets but also for her protection. Mavis seemed to be buying that line less and less. Just that morning she'd pointed out that there was a top notch alarm system in her house and that if anyone did try to kidnap her, he or she would have to get past Rosanne, Tyler and Tiffany to do it.

Peter tried not to take Mavis's less than subtle hints personally. She'd been through a lot with Ron so naturally it was going to take her a long time to really and truly trust him and to believe that he wasn't going to run around on her the way Ron had. He wasn't that kind of a man. Well, maybe Chelsea wouldn't agree with him but that was different. Chelsea had gotten boring over the years; Mavis could never be boring.

"Peter?" Tiffany came into the library, surprising him. "Where's Aunt Mavis?"

"She's taking a bath. Why?" Peter eyed Tiffany a little suspiciously. Although the teenager was a lot easier to take than Tyler, she still wasn't anyone he'd want to be caught on a sinking boat with. The kid had the survival instincts of a shark.

"I need to borrow her car."

"You'll have to wait and ask her."

"Can't you just tell her?"

"Tiffany, I can't make that kind of a decision for your aunt. Why don't you borrow Tyler's car? I think he's home tonight."

"Tyler needs his car. Why don't you let me borrow your car? I'm just going to the mall."

"Sorry but I don't think so. You aren't on my insurance."

"So who's going to know?"

Peter had to admire Tiffany's nerve. The kid had hit her own mother in a car accident, had a stack of moving violations half a foot high and she thought he'd loan her his car? Not likely. "No, Tiffany. I don't loan my car to anyone."

Tiffany perched on the arm of the sofa and stared at Peter. He shifted a little uncomfortably under her gaze. He always had the feeling that Tiffany was about to say something to him, to accuse him of something and to do her best to humiliate him right out of the house. "Did I ever tell you about the time that I just happened to be in the square downtown one night and I just happened to see you and Aunt Mavis making out in your car? It was quite shocking, really pretty disgusting. I wanted to tell Uncle Ron about it but I didn't want to upset him." Tiffany smiled sweetly. "I never told anyone."

"Well, there really isn't anyone for you to tell now," Peter pointed out. "The whole town knows that Mavis and I are a couple."

"True," Tiffany agreed, "but your wife might like to know how long your little affair with my aunt has been going on. It might be some good ammo for your divorce."

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Be back by ten."

"Thank you, Uncle Peter. I can see why Aunt Mavis is so crazy about you." Tiffany grabbed the keys and scooted out of the room.

"Be sure you put gas in it!" Peter called after her. He returned to his cognac and took a bracing sip. It was a good thing he never had any children with Chelsea. He really didn't like kids.

"Mr. Van Husen?" Rosanne appeared in the doorway. "Your wife is here to see you."

Schuyler Square Day 63 Tyler in a Tiff

Tyler didn't get it. Truthfully, there was little in life that Tyler did get. Why couldn't people just be nice to each other? Why couldn't everyone follow the rules, do the right thing and share their Dortios at lunch time? He knew that he was hopelessly Out of It but Tyler, age twenty-two and heir to a mega-fortune, no longer cared. So what if he wasn't Cool? He was a nice human being and that had to count for something.

He stood in the doorway of the living room brooding. It made him positively ill to see his mother sitting with that slimeball police officer. Granted, his parents' marriage hadn't been the stuff dreams was made of but did she have to be so blatant?

"Tyler," his mother said, her voice three martini's past tipsy, "You remember Officer Van Husen."

"Of course I do," Tyler snapped. "What's he doing here?"

His mother hesitated. "Peter needs a place to stay for a while. I'm going to let him stay with us."

Her words remained in the air like time bombs. Finally, Tyler said, "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm here because your mom needs me," the creepy, uber blond cop told him. "She was kidnapped, Tyler. I'm going to stay with you and your family to keep everyone safe."

Yeah, right. And Cool Whip was diet food. Good grief, what was wrong with his mother that she couldn't see through this...this white bread faux protector? Was she that desperate?

"Tyler? You look upset. Are you all right?"

"I am upset," Tyler said through clenched teeth. "Dad isn't even cold and you're moving in his replacement?"

Mavis paled. "It isn't like that."

"All right," Tyler said evenly, "then where's Officer Van Husen sleeping tonight?"

He watched as Peter Van Husen and his mother exchanged shifty glances. It was embarrassing to be in the same room with the two of them, they looked so complicit. "In the guest room, of course," his mother replied.

"Where else?" Peter murmured.

Where else indeed? Tiffany had all but told him what was going on between Schuyler Square's finest and his own mother but Tyler hadn't believed her. He was unable to believe that the woman who had made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches whenever the maid was sick, the woman who had tucked him in and read him a bedtime story at least once a month, the woman who had given birth to him was fooling around with a guy young enough to be her nephew. It was sickening.

"All right," Tyler said. "As long as everything is above board of course I don't mind if Officer Van Husen stays here. I think it's an honor to have someone of his caliber as our guest and of course I'm pleased to know that he only has your best interests at heart, Mother."

Mavis looked away guiltily and Officer Van Husen looked a little sick to his stomach. Tyler felt sick too. His dad hadn't been gone for a week and Mom was moving in the replacements. Was there no justice in this world?

Sometimes, Tyler thought grimly, you have to make your own justice.

Schuyler Square Day 53 An Odd Coincidence

“I don’t believe this.” Veronica Chandler felt as if her entire body had turned to ice. All around her the other guests at the Schuyler Square Policemen’s Retirement Ball were buzzing over the news that Ron Schuyler had been murdered. No one, Veronica noted, seemed too upset by the fact. If anything the party atmosphere had hardly been dampened. What kind of people are these? Don't any of them have emotions? Feelings?

“It is unbelievable,” Tom agreed. “Whoever offed Ron had to have been pretty gutsy to do it right here. I’m guessing it was a crime of passion instead of anything premeditated.”

“But who would want to see Ron dead?” Veronica asked.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her. “About half of the people attending this bash. At least. I’m sorry, Veronica, I know that you have a history with the man but Ron Schuyler was easily the most unpopular person in Schuyler Square. He was a snob, he treated everyone like crap, he went out of his way to be cruel and I’m just talking about with his immediate family members. You work at Schuyler Industries. You have to know that the late Ron Schuyler was universally disliked by everyone from the VPs all the way down the line.”

“It’s one thing to hate your boss but it’s something else to kill him,” Veronica replied. Her hands were shaking. All of her was shaking.

“It’s going to be pretty rough on Kirk, isn’t it?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know,” Veronica replied honestly. “He never really met Ron so it’s not going to be as hard as it would have been if they’d been close. On the other hand, the fact that Ron didn’t make any effort to get to know Kirk might make his death even more of an ordeal.”

“This is awful, isn’t it?” Chelsea Van Husen joined them.

“Horrible,” Veronica agreed. She looked at Chelsea. Her friend had changed out of her bright red outfit into a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt and running shoes. The casual attired looked strange with Chelsea's upswept hairdo and sparkling jewelry. “What happened to your new dress?”

Chelsea looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “Oh, I changed a couple of minutes ago. It was too uncomfortable and I figured I’d be here for most of the night so I wanted to be able to breathe. That dress pinched horribly. I guess I should have gotten it a size bigger but I thought for sure I'd lose ten pounds before the party.”

Veronica wished she could ditch her party clothes too. The heels she was wearing were killing her. “I suppose Peter is at the station.”

“Yes. He left a little while ago.”

“Did he give you any idea of who might have killed Ron?” Tom asked Chelsea in a hushed voice.

Chelsea shook her head. “Even if he knew he wouldn’t say anything to me. Peter is Mr. Straight and Narrow, you guys know that. My husband always does the right thing. It’s like being married to a Boy Scout.”

Veronica and Tom both looked away from Chelsea. It was hard to listen to a wife spout off about how wonderful her husband was when they both knew that Mr. Boy Scout was having an extremely torrid affair with the wife of the evening’s murder victim.

“I think I’d like to go home too,” Veronica said. “There’s no reason for us to stay, is there?”

“Has anyone from the police department questioned you?” Chelsea asked.

“Yes, we both gave statements,” Tom replied.

“Then you should be able to leave. I’m sure if they want to get in touch with you later, they will. After all, It’s not like either of you would have a motive to kill Ron Schuyler.”

Veronica wondered about that. It wouldn’t take a whole lot of probing for someone to find out that Ron was her son’s father. A father who never paid child support, never acknowledged their son and who had also recently hired her and owned the house she was living in.  “I’d like to go, Tom,” Veronica said.

Chelsea reached out and touched Veronica’s arm gently. “You know what’s weird? It’s twenty years exactly since that murder happened in your house. Mary Austin was murdered twenty years ago tonight. Odd, huh? Do you suppose there’s any kind of a connection?”