For Alice, With Love

Chapter 9 - Starlings

"He's hurting, Pearl. I'm sorry I haven't been more open with you about this. I just figured it was personal stuff he'd talk to you about if he wanted to. It wasn't my business."

Mel winced as Pearl let out a huge sigh, worried she'd just overstepped again, like last night. She'd decided, the next day, that she needed to chat with Pearl, for her own peace of mind. Which was on Chris, and their conversation turned personal, fast. Mel could always count on Pearl to get to the heart of the matter, so it wasn't surprising, if she really thought about it.

"My dear, Chris is so much like his father. Holds everything in, then explodes it out in a massive fireball. Once he's had his fun, he'll come back around. I've seen that before."

"Fun. Is that what the kids call it these days," Mel grunted.

At least this morning had been more bearable. He had gotten to work bright and early, was in his office on the phone, fingers tapping in a constant stream of keyboard noises. She had not stopped in to see him, not wanting to disturb him, not sure what to say about the night before, in the garage.

"I am sure he'll be fine. I gave him what-for when he called me yesterday. I may come out to visit soon, to reinforce it. A mother should be there for her son, agreed?"

Amelia did, and they changed the subject. She organized some chores in the household spreadsheet absent-mindedly, setting reminders in her calendar. She glanced briefly down the list, realizing her mother was due today to help her.

"Isn't today your day with your mother? What are you going to tackle today?" Pearl asked, during a lull in conversation, reading Mel's mind. "I do appreciate that she comes to help you. Is she well?"

"Yes, it is! She is well, thanks. I think today we're airing the linens. That closet rarely gets used, but the fabric has to stay fresh, right?" Mel replied, grabbing a pencil and jotting "duster cloths" on the list of items she needed, right beside "chips".

Pearl made an affirmative, happy noise and Mel smiled. That woman, along with her mother, had run this place with precision when she was a child, and she liked coordinating on matters like this with them, even though she didn't have to. The parties and soirees that they had hosted for her husband's company were always so glamorous. When Amelia was older, she would help clean and tear down afterwards, imagining the laughter and tinkling of crystal glasses, winking jewels and mood lighting like some swanky 20's Gatsby-esque party. She supposed it was the design of the house that lent itself to imagining women in flapper dresses and men in double-breasted suits. She added "Great Gatsby" to the list under the duster cloths. She should watch that movie again.

"So, Chris isn't getting underfoot otherwise, is he?" Pearl asked, and Mel held back a snort of laughter.

"Underfoot? No. Everywhere else? Hah," she replied, still smiling. "But it is acceptable, as long as he doesn't decide to throw a massive party and turn this place into another playboy mansion."

Pearl made a not-happy noise and Mel could hear her tapping away on her own keyboard. "Not on my watch, dear. He may be running the expenses now, but it is still under my name. He'll come around, as I said, but you have every permission from me to kick his ass if he tries."

Mel blinked at the bold language coming from Pearl, and then let out a laugh, imagining the older, proper woman forming the word "ass" with distaste.

"Oh Pearl, thank you. I needed a giggle."

"My pleasure, my dear," Pearl said happily, then cleared her throat. "Amelia, I know that I threw this upon you, and I appreciate all you have done, I really do. I do believe my son needs a stabilizing influence as he gets through this trying social time."