The Panhandle Graces Restaurant seemed practically deserted as Mary Larson sat pensively at her usual corner table, sipping a cup of tea. She had owned the eating establishment for eleven years, and the thought of having to close the doors was more then she could bear. Even though Mary had invested a lot of time and money into the restaurant, it wasn't the potential loss of revenue that dismayed the wealthy widow. The Panhandle Graces held deep sentimental value for her because it was a gift from her late husband, Kenneth. Aside from his reputation as a skillful and scrupulous businessman, Kenneth Larson had been a respected philanthropist who donated thousands of dollars to charitable causes. The benevolence he extended to the community made the Larsons the most celebrated couple in the city of Bernadett, Florida. Unfortunately, Mary's attempt to carry on the family's tradition of generosity lacked her husband's sincerity. Mary was an angry, domineering dowager with a fatally warped concept of human relationships. She expected the other members of her family to adhere to every utterance of her raspy, encompassing voice. The abrasive grandmother earnestly believed that she could procure the loyalty of her relatives by controlling every aspect of their lives. Yet, to her surprise, they rebelled, unleashing a deep-seated rage that made the eighty-year-old matriarch more determined than every to impose her will. Mary seemed particularly driven to persecute her eldest granddaughter, Deborah. After years of pursuing a life of reckless pleasure, Deborah had suddenly found herself broke, desperate and over forty. From the age of seventeen, the insouciant thrill-seeker had squandered her youth in search of something to fill the empty places in her heart. The added indignity of having to toil ten hours a day at the Panhandle Graces for minimum wage didn't help matters. Albeit, her days of criminal mischief and drug abuse were far behind her, the resilient redhead still craved the comfort of obstreperous companions half her age. She was a woman who'd been deeply hurt by life, but she refused to give her grandmother the satisfaction of seeing the true depth of her pain. Every conscious moment spent in Mary's presence involved a well-calculated ambuscade of subtle insults and snide remarks. It was the only weapon Deborah had to protect herself from the old lady's vicious verbal attacks. The two women had somehow established an unspoken understanding that made their twisted relationship tolerable. Both knew how to tread near the line without crossing over. Consequently, the resentment between the seasoned antagonists ran deeper than either of them realized. After Mary had said good night to the last customer, Deborah came strolling from the kitchen with a glass of water. She was wearing the purple sweater and blue jeans ensemble her grandmother abhorred. "Here you are, Grammie," she said, as she gently set the glass on the table. "Try not to spill any on yourself, you might melt." "Very funny," Mary said as she opened a bottle of prescription medicine. "Is there a hoodlum convention in town?" "For your information, I'm going to a party." "Deborah, you're forty-two years old. When are you going to stop fraternizing with those juvenile delinquents?" "My friends are all over twenty-one, and we're not doing anything wrong." "I've heard that a few times." "Meaning what?" "Meaning your grandfather is no longer around to sing the blues to some softhearted judge. If you get into trouble this time, I'll let you rot." "Well, you don't have to worry about me, old girl," Deborah responded, gathering her purse and leather jacket. "You can't leave now. The rest of the family is coming. I have something to discuss with all of you." "Make an appointment with my secretary," the self-assured party rebel replied with a wink, as she turned around and sauntered out into the breezy moonlit night. Outside, Mary's sister, Victoria Lambert and her son, Dr. Carter Lambert had just arrived. It wasn't difficult to see why Deborah had so much affection for her solicitous Aunt Vick. The soft-spoken matron had a way of making everyone around her feel at ease. Although the years had taken a toll on her health, she managed to greet each day with an appreciation for life and a smile that revealed the contagious joy that permeated her sympathetic heart. Her hair had turned gray and she walked with the aid of a cane, but she was hardly a feeble old lady. She wasn't afraid to speak the truth, either to Mary or to anyone else. Despite the family's negative view of her sister, Victoria genuinely believed that with time and understanding, Mary would come to recognize the error of her ways and make a change. She had no way of knowing that time was running out. "Hi, Aunt Vick," Deborah greeted as her relatives approached. "What's shakin', Doc?" "My knees and hands," Carter answered. "The duchess wants to meet with the family. That usually means trouble." "Aren't you staying, dear?" Victoria asked Deborah. "Are you kidding?" She responded, "I've had enough of that old bag for one night." "I wish you and your grandmother would make peace," Victoria told her. "That's not likely to happen anytime soon," Deborah replied, heading for her car. "There's just too much bad blood." "Will I live to see the day when those two stop their bickering and behave like members of the same family?" Victoria wondered as she watched her intractable niece drive away. "I don't know, Mother," Carter sighed. "It would take a lot of forgiving and forgetting. Mary has never been good at either." Dr. Lambert's impression of his aunt had stemmed from a long history of painful experience. On many occasions the tall, portly Southern gentleman had been the target of Mary's insidious assaults. Yet, to his credit, he'd successfully endeavored to put the past behind him and relate to his mother's only sister in the present. However, the highly educated surgeon was realistic enough to expect an ambush at the most vulnerable moment. Mary's arsenal of character denunciations included cleverly contrived references to the darkest time in her nephew's life. <> Carter was a recovering alcoholic who'd made laudable strides to turn his life around. Most everyone was proud to see how far the doctor had come, but Mary couldn't find it in her heart to forgive the mistakes he'd made at the mercy of the bottle. The vengeful zealot was prepared to spend the rest of her life pummeling him with the memory of every past indiscretion. As far as she was concerned, the verdict had been handed down and the transgressor deserved no reprieve. The bloodthirsty expression on Mary's face made the Lamberts feel uneasy as they entered the restaurant and walked to her table. "Hello, Mary," Carter said, pulling the chair out for his mother. "Carter," Mary responded with a raised eyebrow. "So glad you stumbled out tonight." "Don't start, sister," Victoria admonished. "We're here at your request, and we didn't come to trade insults." "Very well," Mary agreed. "Where is your wife?" "Her name is Jessica," the doctor insisted in a firm and regulated tone. "She went to one of those pharmaceutical seminars in Jacksonville. I expect her back on Saturday." "That reminds me," Mary recalled, "I left those photo albums on the dining room table, Victoria. You can get them tomorrow. Don't forget your key." "Do you plan to drive down to the condo tonight?" Victoria asked. "Of course," she replied. "The condo is the last bastion of peace and quiet I have left." "Why did you want to meet with us, Mary?" Carter asked. p> Before Mary could answer, her personal assistant, Carla Janic, emerged from the kitchen with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. It only took a subtle glance into the somber visage of this petite young woman to identify the remnants of dejection and alienation she'd suffered. Her shy and gentle nature masked a silo of dormant emotions waiting to be unearthed. However, Carla didn't allow her inner conflict to impact her interactions with others. Mary's personable confidante always endeavored to receive everyone with kindness and respect. Though she had somehow found the courage and strength to contend with her tumultuous past, her most incredible achievement was enduring the capricious personality of her employer. "How are you feeling, Aunt Vick?" Carla asked, distributing the glasses around the table. "I'm fine, darling," Victoria replied. "I didn't know you were working tonight." "I'm not," she explained, kissing Mary on the cheek. "I'm on my way to the library. I'll probably be up half the night." "Study hard, kid," Mary encouraged. After Carla had gathered her belongings and left, Victoria sat quietly with her eyes fixed on Mary. "What's your problem?" Mary asked. "If only you'd embrace your granddaughters with the same affection you seem to have for Carla," she observed. "Perhaps, if they would begin showing me some respect and behaving like adults, I'd have more affection for them," the older sister insisted. "Besides, Carla's an excellent student who takes care of my business and runs this place at the same time. Who wouldn't love her?" "Deborah and Brenda have experienced great tragedy." "Is that supposed to excuse their behavior? When Deborah's parents died, she disappeared. We didn't hear from her for fifteen years." "The child was in pain. Her whole world had been shattered. You should have reached out to her." "I did reach out to her!" Mary shouted, pounding her fist on the table. "I gave her a job when she came home. She's living in her parents' old house, which I now own. What more can I do?" "Can't you see how much those girls are hurting?" Victoria tearfully asked. "Brenda's father died of cancer when she was only twelve years old. Before she could even begin to deal with that loss, her mother abandoned her. You know better than anyone how that impacted her life." "You're right. I do know, because I took Brenda into my home and raised her. She was given every advantage. I wanted her to have the best education money could buy." "She finished college." "She finished Junior college. I wanted her to go on to a university. Instead, she became an aerobics instructor. Her head was filled with silly dreams of someday ruling an empire of health spas. It's ridiculous!" "She's already got one. Like or not, that girl is a success." "Is that what you'd call her? A young woman who puts on skimpy outfits and prowls the streets until all hours of the night. I don't think so. She's a pathetic little girl looking for love in the arms of men twice her age." "You just don't understand," Victoria conceded. "I understand more than you think," Mary replied, rubbing her temples. "Do you feel a migraine coming on?" Carter asked, as he reached across the table. Mary viciously slapped his hand away. "Don't you dare touch me!" She shouted. "I don't need any help from some has-been talk show host." Carter was on the verge of eruption when his attention was diverted by the arrival of Mary's youngest granddaughter, Brenda. Uncompromising ambition and a perfectly toned physique had afforded the twenty-three year old blonde the privilege of staking a distinguished claim in the business community. She owned and operated one of the most successful health spas in town. Unlike her cousin, Deborah, the driven entrepreneur, had determined her life's direction at an early age, and evaded the pitfalls of financial ruin. Yet, despite all that Brenda had accomplished, the love and admiration of her grandmother seemed forever elusive. Brenda could sense the tension as she approached the table and took her seat. "What's going on?" She asked. "Everything's fine, honey," Victoria assured her. "How are you tonight?" "Wonderful!" She gleefully declared. "I'm making plans to open another health club." "You'd better have your own money," Mary advised. "It's alright, Aunt Vick," Brenda responded, "I'm not going to let Grammie ruin my evening. I've already asked Lanigan to introduce me to the right people." "Where is Lanigan?" Mary inquired. "He was supposed to be here by now." "I caught a ride over with him," Brenda answered. "He's getting something out of the trunk." Lanigan Turner had handled Mary's legal affairs for the past eighteen years. The handsome middle-aged attorney had a reputation for conducting the process of litigation in a prompt and discreet fashion. His success allowed him to maintain the kind of lifestyle that befitted a man of his extravagant taste. He made no apologies for his unabashed indulgence. In his mind, the courtroom was a battlefield and the symbols of opulence he'd been fortunate enough to acquire over the years were nothing more than the spoils of conquest. Nevertheless, the eloquent lawyer's life wasn't as gratifying as he pretended. Lanigan had secrets and no one knew just how far he was willing to go to keep them quiet. There wasn't a hair out of place when the dapper attorney walked in with his briefcase in hand. "Good evening, everyone," he said, sitting down. "Lanigan, you're the only man I know who can brave this night air and come in looking like a model," Brenda complimented. "Thanks, Brenda," the vainglorious playboy replied. "It's my new hair spray." "Get on with it, Turner," Mary insisted. "Right," he agreed. "Well, as you all know, the Panhandle Graces has been losing money for awhile. So Mary has decided to close the restaurant and turn the place into a night club." "You don't know anything about running a night club," Victoria reminded her. "You're right," Mary admitted. "That's why I'm turning the business over to Carla. She has some terrific ideas. She knows what today's young people find exciting and entertaining." "But you love this place!" Victoria reminded her sister. "You're right," Mary conceded, "I do love it, but I can't keep fooling myself. This place is going under. I have too much respect for Kenneth's memory to let that happen." "What about Deborah?" An irate Brenda inquired as she stood up. "What about Deborah?" Mary mordantly repeated. "She's poured her very life into this place," the indignant granddaughter insisted. "That kind of loyalty deserves something." "Not from me," the old lady responded. "The free ride is over." "What are you saying?" Victoria asked. "I've taken my ungrateful granddaughters out of my will," Mary answered. "So if Brenda wants to expand her business and support her older cousin, she can do it with her own money." "You're a miserable, vindictive old hag!" Brenda declared. "I don't want anything from you. One of these days, you're going to regret every disgusting act you've committed against your family. I hate you!" "Get out of my sight!" The scorned heiress demanded. "With pleasure," Brenda replied on her way to the door. "Let's go, Lanigan." Unaffected by the level of emotional tension around him, Lanigan took some documents from his briefcase, turned them all to the signature lines, and presented them to Mary. "If you'll just sign these, I can proceed with your wishes." She took his proffered ink pen and locked her eyes into his. "You take that impudent little brat and teach her how the real world works," she instructed, lowering her gaze to the documents and scribbling her name on each page. "Maybe she'll learn some respect." "Thank you, Mary," Lanigan said, as he gathered the documents and prepared to leave. "Good night, everyone." When Lanigan walked out the door, Mary sat back and covered her mouth with her hand. Carter had remained silent during his aunt's altercation with Brenda, but his penetrating stare was beginning to annoy her like fingernails scratching a chalkboard. "Do you have something to say?" She turned to him. "Have you lost your mind?" The bewildered nephew inquired. "You've just destroyed your last opportunity for reconciliation with your granddaughters. You may never get another chance. I know how you feel about Carla, but you shouldn't have put her above the interest of your family." "You're the last one who should talk about the interest of the family," she replied. "What are you talking about now?" He asked. "You married Jessica despite my objections," she reminded him." Oh, I'm sure she makes a man your age feel like a teenager again, but there's a lot about that girl you don't know. You'd better believe I've made sure she'll never get her grubby little hands on my money. We'll see how long Miss Trailer Princess hangs around when she realizes that Big Daddy won't be inheriting the family fortune." "That will be quite enough!" The doctor shouted, rising from the table in a fury. "How dare you attack my wife's character. Who do you think you are? Do you honestly believe that everyone else in this world shares your contempt for decency? Some of us are capable of loving others regardless of their bank accounts. So you can keep your money and the shackles that come with it, because my wife and I are going to be fine." He turned to Victoria and prepared to leave. "Mother, I'll be in the car." "Can you believe the nerve of that man?" Mary snarled, as she watched Carter storm out the door. "What did you expect?" Victoria asked. "You've insulted your nephew and alienated your granddaughters in the same night. How could you treat your family that way?" "I'm the one who was wronged, Victoria! I've always been there for those ingrates. Instead of being thankful for all I've done for them, they'd rather spit in my face. Well, I've had enough. They've turned their backs on me for the last time." "Do you know how self-righteous you sound? I'm going blind from the glare of your halo. No one is going to give you unconditional loyalty, sister. You can't buy your family's love." "You don't know anything. You think that son of yours can do no wrong, and you're always coddling those girls. You love being their sweet little 'Aunt Vick.' Perhaps if you'd been a little tougher, you'd have more to fall back on in your old age than the admiration of two deadbeats." "Is that what you think?" Victoria asked, as she picked up her cane and carefully rose to her feet. "Maybe I don't have your wealth, but I'm rich in the love and respect of my family. I'm honest with others and with myself. I've never had to manipulate anyone into doing right by me. I hope your money makes you very happy. It obviously means more to you than I do." p> "You'll be back," Mary declared with an icy confidence as she watched her sister walk away. "Besides, you owe me." Victoria turned around and took one last look at her wretched sibling. "I really wanted to believe that you were going to change, but you're hopeless. You've hurt me tonight. I've been angry with you before, but this is the first time I've ever felt so disappointed. I'm ashamed of you." ~1~ ~2~ ~3~ ~4~   Writers' Corner: Short Stories :: E-mail