A Novelist

Benjamin Howard

“Edmund, your grandfather and I are going out.  We won’t be back until three in the morning.  We are visiting respectable people, so we may be caught up in the hours; don’t want you to fret about us if we stay later than intended.”  The grandmother wrapped her coat tighter around her neck before adding, “I hope you’ve made up your mind to come with us.”

Edmund picked at the small splinter in the wooden chair he was sitting in and gnawed at the inside of his cheek.  His eyes became slivers at his grandmother and he couldn’t help but dislike her.  She had never been a nice woman to begin with. She was selfish, impudent, and had an opinion about everything.  Edmund had tried to empathize with her and excused her whenever she misbehaved verbally in public or with his grandfather. Edmund believed she despised him at some level, for when she mentioned his name, it sounded as if she was spitting up poison.

“I won’t be attending this time.  Thank you.” Edmund gave his grandmother a sweet, genuine smile even though he would have rather ignored her.

“Don’t be sarcastic with me!  Wipe that smile off your face and go make yourself useful,” the grandmother snipped, throwing the end of her silk scarf around her neck.  “Come along, George!”

"I’m coming, Sophie, I’m coming,” huffed his grandfather as he walked down the stairs.  He shook his head and mumbled a complaint under his tongue.

"Make haste! I don’t want Mrs. Martha chiding us again on how late we arrive!”  The old lady hurried herself and her husband out and the door was shut.

Edmund popped from his seat and ran to the window.  He peered out and stared down at the black carriage awaiting his pestering grandmother and tolerating grandfather.  Sniggering at the sight, Edmund rested his chin on his folded hands and watched them leave.  When the carriage pulled down the street, a person in a long black coat stood still on the other side.  Edmund hadn’t seen him before.

The strange man caught sight of Edmund and waved.  Edmund ducked down from the window and pressed himself against the wall.  He sat there in frantic thought, wondering if he should answer the door if the stranger would rap upon it.  He picked at the flaky skin on his lower lip right when the large cedar clock struck three o’clock in the afternoon.  Knowing he couldn’t leave the stranger standing in confusion, Edmund jumped to his feet and dashed to the door.  He unlatched it and threw his head outside.  He looked up and down both ends of the cobblestone street before cupping a hand around his mouth and calling out to the figure.

"Are you B. Howard?”

The stranger broke into a smile, revealing all his white teeth, and sprinted across the street.  His large coat flipped against the wind and Edmund screwed his mouth in disgust at his vigor.  He couldn’t possibly work with a man like this; he had half the mind to close the door on him until the stranger planted both feet in front of him and took off his hat.

In a friendly, breathless tone, the mysterious B. Howard belted out, “Hi! How’re you?”

“I’m marvelous,” Edmund replied in an uninterested tone.  He ushered Mr. Howard in and prepared to take his coat.

“Great!”  The man whipped the garment off his shoulders and handed it cavalierly to Edmund. 

Furrowing his brow, Edmund glanced at Mr. Howard.  His dialect and his manner were so strange, but hauntingly familiar.

“Gorgeous house—simply beautiful.  Hey, you lived here forever, right?”

Overwhelmed with the young man’s energy, Edmund found himself stuttering and blinking nervously.  “Um—yes, I have.”