Worth

Chapter 10 (Pt. 1)

They waited impatiently for Philroy, who was late as usual. Edie was the last of the family to totter into the study, and for the first time seemed not to want an apology for being its slowest member.

"Good morning, Edie," Joan greeted her. "Did you sleep well last night?'

"Splendid, Joan. This morning I touched my toes without cracking something for the first time in years. Unfortunately, I was still lying in bed when I did it. Call me old fashioned but I like a mattress with springs."

"That's a shame. And our bed was so firm, wasn't it Tom?" Thomas nodded. "Almost too firm. Kids, were your beds too hard to sleep in? Or too soft maybe?"

"Dear, Joan," Edie laughed, "not even your mid-morning pre-hysterics could spoil my mood today. James? Has Philroy ordered cars to take us to the train station this afternoon?

"I called myself and arranged for us to be driven all the way back to the city."

"So long as I hear no complaints about frequent stops," she shrugged. "Now what's keeping Palm? He's not being paid by the hour is he? I still have to pack."

Shortly, Philroy did appear without his usual chipper salutations, looking as serious and flustered as a magistrate with an itchy wig. He carried a small folder and an even more precious cup of hot tea. He seated himself behind the study desk and attempted to say, "Good morning." His voice had a similar sound to the last gargle from a gaping neck wound.

"Ewww," said Elizabeth.

"Obviously I have some bad news." This time the gurgle was so strained and thick it was met with a more collective 'Ewww-ing'.

"Is your cholesterol, like, way up?" asked John.

"I seem to have a touch of laryngitis."

"Sounds like you swallowed a percolator," said Rolph.

"What's a percolator, Uncle Rolph?" asked Paul.

"It's a coffee maker," Thomas said.

"I fell asleep with the window open," Philroy said, but nobody heard this first admission because his throat hadn't made a noise to go with his lip movements, and because Thomas and Joan were giving their kids a distracting lesson on how coffee is brewed. He repeated himself with great difficulty and this time managed to scrape up some sound.

"How idiotic," Edie scolded him. "In a rainstorm? Why not just wrap a wet towel around your head and stand in front of a fan?"

"Fresh air," he explained with a bubbly squeak. It was too much for all of them. They curled up in disgust.

"Put something in there," Rolph said.

"Mustn't talk," Philroy whispered.

"What does that mean?" Edie wanted to know.

"Yes, what do we do now?" Joan asked.

"I guess we forget it. Let us read the will," Paul suggested.

Philroy waved no frantically, then pat the air for calm. Mutiny was rising.

"I have to teach tomorrow," Elsa said defiantly.

"We all have places to be," said James.

"Just point the murderer out, Philroy, so that we can get on with it," said Rolph.

Philroy attempted to silence them all with a finger to his lips. It took a few moments before the squawking stopped. He whispered, his jaw extending to escape some pain. "I wrote down the summation. One of you will have to read it."