A Mother and Daughter Reunion

After accepting Bernard Morton's marriage proposal, Mindy Cooper knew that there were two people that she needed to inform of her decision right away: her mother and her boyfriend.

She cringed at the prospect of telling each of them her news. Tyler Schuyler was going to be understandably upset but her mother...well, who knew how Betsy Cooper would react? One thing was certain, her mother never reacted the way any other normal mother would. There would be no hugs or best wishes or talk about wedding plans. Her mother seemed to have a permanent kink in her personality when it came to parenting.

Mindy was relieved to find the apartment she shared with Tyler empty after Bernard brought her home. She'd call her mother first and then tell Tyler her news when he got home. Truthfully, she didn't think Tyler was going to take it too badly. Their relationship had never been exactly made out of fireworks. Firecrackers was more like it. Tyler could move back in with his horrible mommy, quit his temporary job at Kutrate Kemicals and get on with his life. It was really the best thing for him, Mindy decided virtuously. Why, she was actually doing him a favor by breaking up with him.

Feeling better, Mindy sat down on the couch and braced herself for the phone call to her mother. After taking several long gulps of air, she picked up her cell phone.

"Hi, Mom."

"Who is this? Sandi? Is that you?"

"No, it's Mindy, not Sandi," Mindy said through gritted teeth. She sounded nothing like her sister Sandi yet every time she called her mother, her mother mistook her for Sandi.

"Mindy! What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong?"

"You only call me when something's wrong."

"That's not true. I call you all the time--" Mindy stopped herself because she suddenly couldn't remember the last time she had called her mother. Was it when she needed to borrow money because her car broke down? Or was it when she needed to borrow money because she was short on rent money?" Oh, my. Her mother was right; she did only call when something was wrong. "Well, that's not the reason why I'm calling you tonight. I have some big news, Mom. I'm getting married!"

"You're getting married? Who on earth are you marrying? Some penniless journalist?"

"Actually, my fiance is extremely wealthy and very good looking. He looks a lot like Warren Beatty in his prime."

"Oh, Mindy, why would you want to marry someone who is better looking than you are? Men like that always cheat on their wives."

"Bernard is not better looking than I am," Mindy said. "I'm not exactly chopped liver, Mom."

"No, but you're also not a spring chicken. How did you meet this man?"

"We work together."

"He's a colleague at the newspaper? I thought you said he had money."

"I'm not working at the newspaper," Mindy explained. Good grief, when was the last time she'd spoken to her mother? It had to have been ages ago. "I'm working for a chemical company and Bernard is my boss."

"You're sleeping with your boss? That's a great way to get fired!"

"He's not going to fire me and we aren't sleeping together. We're engaged."

"The two are mutually exclusive, Mindy. I thought you knew that."

"Mom, it might be nice if you said congratulations or asked me when you can meet my fiance or told me how happy you are for me. Bernard Morton is a rich, handsome man and he wants to marry me. Most mothers would think that's good news!"

"Just don't let him meet your sister," Betsy Cooper advised. "Remember how all your old boyfriends fell for her once they met her?"

"That happened one time in junior high."

"Still, better safe than sorry. So when can I meet your fiance? Maybe I should come to Schuyler Square for a visit. It's been a while, Mindy. We can catch up with each other."

"I'll call you next week," Mindy promised. Maybe she'd be able to convince Bernard to elope before her mother's visit because she had the feeling that once Bernard met Betsy and saw what kind of family she came from, he might decide he didn't want to marry her after all.

Schuyler Square Day Nine Repercussions

"Mom, why are you still there?"

Veronica's voice caught in her throat when she heard her son's voice. Kirk was 27-years-old, a grown man but to Veronica he would always, always be her little boy. And he was such a good boy, nothing at all like the snake who had fathered him. Veronica still couldn't believe that Ron Schuyler had managed to sire a decent human being like Kirk.

"Are you there?" Kirk asked. "Mom, can you hear me?"

"Sorry, sweetie, my mind wandered. I'm still here because I have some loose ends to gather up."

"Like what? What kind of loose ends could you possibly have to gather up in Nowheresville, Illinois?"

"Just things." There was no way Veronica could tell Kirk that she was in Schuyler Square to confront his loser, deadbeat father who also happened to be a billionaire. Veronica simply didn't know how to put that into words. "And actually things are kind of a mess." That was an understatement. Not only had her talk with Ron gone extremely poorly, she'd just read in the Schuyler Square News that Ron's sister had been killed in a head-on collision with her own daughter. She somehow doubted that Veronica and Kirk were going to be at the top of his mind right now. But Veronica was determined that their son was going to get his fair share of what was owed to him. The time had come. "I was thinking that maybe you could come down here," Veronica said.

"Why would I want to come there?"

Veronica drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She hadn't planned to spring her news on Kirk this way but for the life of her she couldn't come up with a plausible reason for Kirk to drive four hundred miles from Minnesota to Schuyler Square other than the truth. "There's someone you should meet."

"Who do you know who lives there? Who could you possibly want me to meet in Schuyler's Square?"

Veronica tried not to let the quiver in her voice sound as she answered her only child. "Your father."

Schuyler Square Day Five - Mavis and the Policeman

Mavis Schuyler took a tentative sip from her coffee. She had added two ice cubes along with a sneaky, enormous shot  of brandy so the resulting mixture was lukewarm and pleasantly potent. Good. She needed potent. Ron would be home in an hour or so and after thirty years of marriage, Mavis knew that she was a much more agreeable wife if she had at least one drink inside of her before dealing with her husband.

Making a face, Mavis put Ron out of her head. Really, they should go ahead and get a divorce but she knew he’d never let her go. Not because Ron was still madly in love with her. Oh, no. Mavis knew that her husband had never been madly in love with her or anyone else. Ron was in love with her money, just as she’d been in love with his. There was something to be said about the cold comfort millions of dollars offered a person on dark and lonely nights.

The front doorbell rang and Mavis waited for Rosanne to answer it. Silence. Mavis took another sip of coffee. The doorbell chimed again. No Rosanne. Where was that woman? Honestly, what were they paying her for if she wasn’t around to do something as fundamental as answer the front door and then announce to Mavis who was requesting an audience with her?

The doorbell rang again. “Rosanne!” Mavis shouted and then she remembered. Rosanne was at the Farmer’s Market buying organically grown veggies for their dinner. Rosanne was into all that health food nonsense. Mavis personally believed that the more preservatives a food had, the better. If it worked on Twinkies, then wouldn't it make sense that it would work on her too? With an annoyed grunt, Mavis pulled her thin frame up from the linen covered couch and stomped toward the hallway.

She pulled open the front door before whoever was on the other side could press to the bell once again. Mavis still had the remains of the previous night’s hangover sliding back and forth behind her eyes and the last thing she needed was to hear the tinny chimes of their doorbell over and over and over. Pursing her lips tightly, she steeled herself to snarl at their visitor and send him or her packing.

“Yes?” she snapped but the word seemed to shrivel up on her tongue like a sun-dried raisin. Standing on the front steps in a dark blue uniform was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her entire life. Six feet or so with broad, broad shoulders, a tapering waist, blond hair and navy blue eyes, he was positively stunning. “Yes?” Mavis said again only this time her voice came out as purr instead of a snarl.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Peter Van Husen with the Schuyler Square P.D.”

“Yes?” Mavis said for the third time in two minutes. He was probably looking for a donation of some kind. Mavis didn’t really care why he was there. Looking into Peter Van Husen’s incredible blue eyes was the best thing that had happened to her all day long.

“Are you Mavis Schuyler?”

“Yes, I am.” Mavis wished desperately that she was wearing something sexier than leggings and a silk tunic. Then again, leggings made her thighs look smaller and the soft rose tunic was extremely flattering.  “Is there something I can do for you, officer?” Mavis could think of at least a hundred things she’d like to do for this gorgeous man.

Peter Van Husen cleared his throat. His eyes met hers and held them for one long, intense moment. “I have a proposition for you, Mrs. Schuyler.”

Schuyler Square, Day Three

Schuyler Square
Day Three
Number One Son

Sometimes, quite often actually, Brad Schuyler fantasized about being born in a normal family. A family where lying, deception and secrecy weren't the norm. A family that had members who liked each other and enjoyed hanging around with each other and who spent Christmas and Easter and birthdays together because they wanted to, not because they saw those occasions as good opportunities to spy on each other and make sure the will hadn't changed. Brad had friends with families like that and he envied them just as much as they envied him. They envied him because he was rich. He envied them because they were happy.

But Brad, at age 28, was coming to accept that the Schuyler family was never going to be normal. The deck had been stacked against them from the very beginning, way back when Great-Grandpa Schuyler had opened Schuyler Enterprises. It was a totally unglam business but it had begun to hemorrhage money almost immediately. Being wealthy in a small town had its high points and being rich was always better than being poor but all that money had created character flaws in the Schuylers that seemed to get deeper and deeper with every passing generation, kind of like fissures in the walls of a valley.

Take his father, for example. Brad had grown up being scared of his father and his hair trigger temper but that fear had eventually been replaced with a kind of apathy and later a resentment that he knew he'd never be able to shake. Ron--he no longer thought of his father as "Dad"--was such a cliche. A middle-aged  businessman who burped antacid, fell asleep over his brandy and never, ever had an original idea. What was so scary about that?

Then there was Mommy Not So Dearest. Mavis Jenson Schuyler, a woman of a certain age who lived for Dr. Phil and sales at Macy's. A woman who wanted to be mistaken for a cougar or a Real Housewife of Atlanta. Brad loved his mother, he supposed, but he would be the first to admit that Mavis Schuyler wasn't what anyone would call lively. How had he sprung from such dried up wells? Brad did his best to avoid his mother. And his father. And his twit of a brother, Tyler.

Good Lord, Tyler Schuyler! Maybe his parents did have a sense of humor but in the 20 years since Tyler had been born not once had Brad heard Ron or Mavis comment on the fact that their youngest son's first name rhymed with his last. It was very possible that they'd never noticed.

Brad was making himself sick and that wasn't a good idea. He had to get to work and nausea and management seldom went hand in hand. Putting his neurotic family out of his mind, Brad parked his car next to his father's and walked into the grey concrete building that was someday going to belong to him and the twit. He wanted to stop in his father's office and have a drink. He had a meeting with HR in half an hour and those kinds of meetings always required a little extra lubricating.

Brad had almost reached his father's office when he heard voices coming from the waiting room. That was odd; his father seldom had anyone see him at work, probably because Ron was rarely at work. Peering through the half opened door, Brad saw a tall blonde who had a pissed expression on her face. Following her gaze, Brad saw she was looking at his father, who looked like he was on the verge of stroking out.

"...a long time," he heard Ron say.

"Too long," the blonde said. "I've been putting this off for a long time, Ron, but it can't wait any longer."

Brad took a step back and strained his ears. Hopefully he'd hear something useful, something that might enable him to convince his father to spring for a vacation in the West Indies. Crouching in the hallway, it occurred to Brad that he was just as rotten as the rest of his family, always looking for the easy way out , the chance to blackmail a relative. Yes, he was definitely a Schuyler.

Shrugging, Brad leaned his head closer to the open door. It was really pointless to fight genetics.