Schuyler Square Day 72 Peter Is Not Thrilled

"How could you even ask me that?" Chelsea demanded. "I'm not the cheater in this marriage, Peter. That's a title you hold."

"How do I know that? For all I know you might have gone out and had a one-night stand as a sort of revenge thing."

Chelsea gulped. Had Peter bugged their kitchen and somehow heard her tell Veronica about her fling with Jim Waterston? She knew that Veronica would never betray her secret to Peter. "Is that what you think of me?" she managed to stammer. "That I'd go to some cheap, trashy bar, pick up one of your co-workers and allow him to impregnate me just to get back at you? Boy, do you have some ego!"

Peter's dark blue eyes narrowed. "Who said anything about a co-worker?"

"Nobody--but that's obviously what you were saying." Chelsea began to cry. "How could you think that of me?"

"Pull yourself together," Peter hissed at her. "You aren't at home."

"No, I'm at your home--your new home. But Peter, this baby is your baby and he or she is going to be living with me in our home and I'd like to know what you plan on doing about it!"

"Give me a few minutes to figure that out, Chelsea. You just dropped a major bombshell on me and I need time to regroup. I mean, obviously this wasn't in my plans."

"Obviously," Chelsea sniffled. "Obviously your plans revolve around living in this tacky mausoleum, getting some kind of allowance from that old bag cougar wannabe Mavis, and becoming an aging boy toy in cashmere socks. I never knew you were so shallow, Peter."

"Neither did I," Peter replied, "but once I tried shallow on for size I learned that it fit me like a glove."

Slowly Chelsea got to her feet. "You don't need to walk me out. Stay here and think about all your grand plans to get your teeth whitened and your dimple deepened. Better yet, figure out how you're going to tell your new sweetie that you're going to be a daddy! I won't keep you from our child, Peter, in spite of what you've done to me. A child needs a mother and a father and even though I'm sure you'll be a poor excuse as a paternal figure, you're all this child has." She waited for Peter respond but only got a blank, dead pigeon stare in return. "I'm leaving," she said.

"I'll be in touch." As she passed her husband on her way out of the room, Peter touched her arm. For a split second, Chelsea felt the smallest glimmer of hope. Maybe Peter would see how pointless it was for him to try and be a member of Schuyler Square's Jet Set. Maybe he'd come back to her and they'd be able to raise little Ashton or little Adele together, the way they were supposed to. The glimmer faded when Peter stared at her like she'd just arrived from Mars with some very bad news.

"Don't tell anyone yet," he requested. "About the baby, I mean. Anything can happen, you know."

"Drop dead," Chelsea responded. She was almost to the front door when she heard footsteps descending the grand staircase. Mavis Schuyler, wearing a ridiculous gold brocade dressing gown and high heeled gold slippers, walked down the stairs toward her. If Peter had looked at her like she was from Mars, Mavis looked at her like she was a fungus that had just popped up from between the cracks in black and white tiles. "What do you want?" Mavis asked quite ungraciously.

"To speak to my husband but don't worry, I'm leaving."

Chelsea stormed out of Schuyler Manor wishing with all her heart that whoever had kidnapped Mavis had kept her permanently.

Schuyler Square Day 46 The Policeman's Retirement Ball Goes On

Tom didn't seem exactly shocked by her revelation. "I didn't surprise you, did I?"

Tom shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "I suppose I figured out that Kirk was Ron's son a long time ago. What did surprise me is that you were ever involved with someone like Ron. You're so...nice and he's such a--"

"Jerk?" Veronica suggested.

"For lack of a more colorful adjective," Tom agreed. "It's none of my business, but how did it happen?"

Veronica shrugged. "What can I say? I was young and stupid and he was older and manipulative. Believe it or not, I thought I loved him."

Tom was too polite to agree totally with her. "Like you said, you were young. So what are you going to do now? Are you hoping the two of them well develop some kind of relationship? You probably already know that Ron has never been nominated to be Father of the Year. He's always pretty much ignored his other kids and it shows. The older one turned out just like him and the younger one is afraid of his own shadow.”

Veronica made a face. “To tell you the truth I don't know what I want now. At first I was all about revenge. I had lost my job in Minneapolis, Kirk was writing a novel and not bringing in a regular salary, we were about to lose our house and it dawned on me that perhaps Kirk’s dad should be kicking in some money after all these years. But then I came back here and Ron found me a job and a place to live and was fairly decent about it all. I must still be stupid because that seemed like enough to me.”

“You’re not stupid and don't forget the house he's renting to you was never a hot commodity on the market. There was a murder committed there."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"A murder that Ron might have had something to do with."

"Why are you saying that? What do you have against Ron?"

"Plenty on a business level but on a personal level it sounds like you might still be in love with Ron Schuyler. That bothers me because I think I'm falling in love with you too.”

“Are we having fun?” Chelsea Van Husen joined them, bouncing into their conversation like a giant rubber ball. Veronica smiled at her friend, trying not to look shocked as she took in Chelsea’s outrageous outfit and even more outrageous hair color. Poor Chelsea. She was trying so hard to get her husband’s attention that it was almost painful to watch. “It’s a fabulous party, isn’t it? Peter and Mavis did a wonderful job. Have you seen Mavis tonight? She looks stunning! Everyone looks stunning—the men, the women—even the bus boys look stunning!”

Chelsea was babbling, something Veronica had never heard her do. Chelsea was usually the epitome of calm and collected. There was an odd look in her eyes too—she was so fired up that she seemed close to manic. “Would you like to get something to eat, Chelsea? Or have some champagne?”

“Oh, no—I’ve got to find Peter. I have to tell him something—it's very important--I'll see you two later—“

Chelsea vanished into the crowd. “What’s the matter with her?” Tom asked. “She’s acting higher than a kite.”

“She probably feels like a fool since everyone in town knows about her husband and Mavis Schuyler.” Veronica cringed. “Just like everyone knows about me and Ron and our son.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Tom suggested. “Let the past go. You can’t change it. Focus on your future instead--”

A scream interrupted him as a woman wearing a white catering outfit suddenly ran into the crowded ballroom. She stopped in front of the band and began waving her arms frantically. “There’s a dead body in the kitchen!” she screamed. “Somebody do something!”

Schuyler Square Day 18 Ron Isn't Feeling Too Well

Ron Schuyler was pretty sure that he was aging faster than the average man in his fifties ought to be aging, which struck him as totally unfair. What was the point in being rich if it couldn’t guarantee him at the very least a healthy, stress-free middle age? But that didn’t seem to be in the cards for Ron, especially since the arrival of Veronica Channing in Schuyler Square. And now her son.

Correction: their son.

The pain in Ron’s stomach increased. It was probably an ulcer but he was in no mood to have it checked out and hear from the family doctor how he needed to go on cholesterol meds or start exercising more or have major surgery. He had enough on his mind without hearing that now his body was falling apart too.

Ron glanced at his desk calendar. Veronica had been back in town for a little over a month. She’d returned right before Lynnette died. Ron had never been too big on omens or signs but even he had to admit that Veronica's arrival and Lynnette's departure seemed to be too coincidental for comfort. Ron and his sister had never been close but having Lynnette die so suddenly shocked him. Lynnette's demise underscored the fact that he could--would--die someday too. Ron had chosen to deny his own mortality for so long that he really didn't appreciate being reminded of it so bluntly.


Then there was Kirk Channing coming to town. No wonder his stomach hurt. It was all too much for Ron to take and although he was fairly certain that no one else had figured out that the tall, good-looking Kirk was his son, it was playing hell with his nerves. It didn’t help that his niece was living with them too. Not that he saw all that much of Tiffany—other than when he went into the kitchen where the girl had apparently taken up permanent residence—but it still annoyed him to have an extra person around. He felt like his nerves were fraying faster than a cheap pair of Madras shorts and he didn’t like the sensation. Not one bit. Ron was used to being in control. 


Then there were the dreams he'd been having about Veronica, dreams that all too clearly reminded him of what the two of them had shared in bed. Veronica had been a fantastic lover, far warmer and more giving than Mavis had ever been. Knowing Veronica was back in town was making Ron wonder if he should try and rekindle those long ago flames.


Dear God, was he nuts? What was he thinking? Those flames would devour him now. He wasn't a kid any longer. If he managed to start things up with Veronica again and Mavis found out he had no doubts that his wife would destroy both of them

“Ron?” Mavis appeared in the doorway, startling him. “Are you ready?”

Ron squinted at his wife. “Ready for what?” Mavis appeared to be dressed for an evening out. She was wearing a long black skirt and a wildly patterned blouse in shades of red and pink and orange that made him feel slightly sick to his stomach plus all her heavy duty jewelry that she only wore when she went to the Schuyler Square Country Club or to a coronation.

“The fundraising dinner at the club,” Mavis reminded him.

“What are you raising money for now?” Ron asked irritably. He'd love to see the books on the money Mavis and her crew raised. He had the feeling that the charities they were supposedly supporting saw precious little of it.

“Ron, I told you already. For the policeman’s retirement dance that I’m helping organize.”

Vaguely, Ron remembered Mavis blathering about some dance that she was organizing but, like with most of the things his wife blathered about, he had only half listened. “I don’t want to go out tonight. You go without me.”

Steeling himself for an argument—You have to come with me, Ron! You promised—this is important to me—we always go to fundraisers together—Ron was pleasantly surprised when Mavis didn’t bat a false eyelash at him. “All right,” she said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“You aren’t going to try and change my mind?”

The smile Mavis gave him was ingenuous. “Why would I want to do that, darling? I can see you have a lot on your mind. I’ll see you later.”

His wife leaned down to kiss him on the top of his head. “You’re wearing different perfume,” he said, surprised. Mavis had been wearing Joy for as long as he could remember.

“It’s called The Bolt of Lightening. Do you like it?”

“Sure,” Ron said. Actually the scent made him feel a little uneasy but that might have been more the name than the smell since he felt like he might get struck with lightening at any moment. “Have a good time.”

Mavis vanished without another word but the smell of her new perfume lingered in the den for awhile, making Ron even more uneasy. Somewhat was up with Mavis, too. Was it possible that she knew about Veronica and Kirk? If she did, why hadn’t she said anything yet? Mavis had never been known for either her patience or her compassion, although Ron sort of doubted many wives would be all that compassionate when they found out about a 27-year old love child.

It was probably all his imagination. Mavis was the same Mavis she’d been since he married her. He was acting paranoid because he knew that sooner or later everything was going to come out, hit the fan and there he’d sit, covered with his past indiscretions.

It was not something Ron was looking forward to.

Schuyler Square Day Ten Kirk Contemplates Having a Dad and Ron Contemplates Running Away

His father. His FATHER? Kirk sat in the dark after talking to his mother feeling a lot how he imagined Luke Skywalker must have felt after learning Darth Vader was his old man. Of course he knew that he had a father but in all honesty he hadn’t given the matter much thought since hitting puberty. Now his mother was telling him that he did indeed have a father and that said father was alive and well AND a billionaire. Things were looking up.

Of course Kirk would go to Schuyler Square where hopefully he’d get to meet his father too but first there were a few questions he wanted to ask his mother before that momentous meeting. Such as why the hell she’d never bothered to mention Kirk’s father before this? And why she'd suddenly decided to go back to Schuyler Square now? It had to be the money situation. Kirk knew his mother was very upset since being laid off from her job. He also knew that she hadn’t been able to find anything else for close to six months. Had she gone to Schuyler Square asking for money from the man who had apparently sired him? That had to be it.

Kirk got up and headed for his bedroom. He had a lot to do before leaving for Schuyler Square—pack, tell his boss he’d be gone for at least a few weeks, arrange for someone to come in and take care of the cat, do the laundry—Kirk frowned. He hated doing the laundry. Maybe he’d just pack dirty clothes and let his mother wash them when he to there.  Yeah, that would work and plus it would make Mom feel needed. Kirk knew how important that was to her. He wanted to finish the chapter he was working on too. He was so close to a breakthrough that he could almost taste it. 


Kirk wondered if his father liked to write too. He wondered if they looked alike. Did he have any brothers or sisters? Wow, of all the things his mother might have sprung on him, the fact that he actually did have a dad was absolutely blowing his mind.



Ron Schuyler felt like crap.

It had all started the day Veronica Channing had walked back into his life, announcing that they had a 27-year-old son and that he, Ron, had better come up with a job for her, pronto.

Ron buried his graying head in his hands and wished he was at least 10,000 miles away. He also wished he’d never gotten married, never laid eyes on Veronica and had gotten a vasectomy when he was seventeen.

This was awful. It was bad enough learning about Kirk but then Lynnette had to go and get herself killed by her own daughter. Ron knew what that meant: Tiffany would be living with them permanently, not just while his sister was in Rome. He knew it was heartless and cruel to be thinking about something as petty as a permanent house guest while Lynnette’s ashes were waiting to be scattered but Ron couldn’t help himself. He was basically a heartless and petty man.  His niece was all right but she’d eat them out of house and home and Ron was sure that his life was going to be one hysterical moment followed by another until he was ready to be put into an urn.

His thoughts went back to Veronica. He hadn’t seen her since their visit in his office but he knew she was still around. Schuyler Square was a small town and he had seen her a few times—crossing the street, at the coffee shop downtown, walking toward the post office. The hell of it was that every time Ron saw her, he felt an old zing rush through his body and he knew he wouldn’t mind a few more afternoon romps with Veronica.

What was he thinking? His libido always got him in trouble. Hadn’t he learned that yet?

“Ron?” The sound of his wife’s sharp voice penetrated the fog around his head. “Ron! We have to go to the hospital and pick up Tiffany!”

“We’d better stop at the grocery store first,” Ron muttered.

Mavis appeared in the doorway dressed entirely in black to honor her late sister-in-law. She reminded him of a crow. No wonder he was forever chasing after other women. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “We’ve got to get going. That poor child is waiting for us.”

“I’m sure she’s comforting herself in the hospital snack bar with plenty of junk food,” Ron replied.

“Knock that off, Ron. We have a job to do and come hell or high water we’re going to be there for Tiffany.”

Ron raised his eyebrows, surprised by Mavis’s apparent maternal interest in her niece. She had never shown all that much maternal interest in her own children. “What else do you propose we do, Mavis? We’re taking the girl in. Isn’t that enough?”

Mavis shook her head. “No, it isn’t. I was talking with a police officer I know and he told me about a wonderful youth group that he helps run. I think we should get Tiffany signed up as soon as possible.”

“What police office could you possibly know?”

“Peter Van Husen. I don’t think you’ve ever met him. Now let's go, Ron. Tiffany's waiting.”

Ron looked at his wife closely. She actually seemed to be blushing.