Chapters Burying the Lead Chapter 3
Peter took forever to get back, even after Charlie got his cell number from the fridge and gave him a stern reminder of his responsibilities. It was odd having a stranger chew out your family like that, but more awkward than insulting. Since even her Mom had to defer some respect toward the adolescent caretaker who tied her shoes, it was really only Gwen’s Dad or other men who could put the boy in his place, on the women’s behalf.
Even though Gwen really really wanted to sometimes.
Luckily Harriet was unbothered now that she wasn’t alone, and happy enough to go back to watching TV; something about ballet dancers from New York City, their feet stepping so hurriedly that their elegant floral figures glided across the stage. The man on screen was speaking about how dangerous their leaps and jumps were, it taking years to perfect using wire harnesses and floorpads and other safety equipment so that they could perform Swan Lake or the Nutcracker without a misstep or a fall. Harriet was enraptured, eyes glued to the screen while her bare foot came up to pull a lock of hair out of the way.
Gwen’s went wide. “I swear we’re not that kind of family,” she promised to Charlie, who stood across from her barstool at the kitchen island, cutting celery and carrots and preparing a basic ranch dip with dill and some other mixins.
“It’s fine. She’s young. Is she starting at Ford in the fall?”
“Yeah, and then she won’t have any such leniencies!” Gwen let her voice carry for a moment like one of her Mom’s stern suggestions, spreading her legs absent-mindedly to feel the propriety hobble pull: twelve inches of strapping keeping her steps modest and such revealing gestures out of reach. She had hated it at first, but now felt almost naked without it.
“I think she’ll follow just fine in your footsteps. Weren’t you the same at her age?”
Gwen was about to lie but the front door burst open and Peter came running in. His bike lay crashed on the front yard, the handle digging into the perfect green sod, but Gwen bit her tongue.
Charlie didn’t. “About time. Do you know how helpless your little cousin was here, all alone?”
Peter hung there with his mouth open, hair too long, hands in his pockets. “What does it matter to you?”
“It shouldn’t. I’m just a school-appointed chaperone. Usually this is a simple handoff you should be well used to, her leash given over and my responsibility lifted, but instead you left two perfectly dignified young ladies two steps away from an emergency! What if Gwen’s sister needed to use the bathroom? What if a fire broke out? She isn’t tall enough to reach the phone on the wall.”
Peter shut his mouth and stood a bit taller, yet had nothing to say for himself.
Charlie gave him a piercing glare while he mixed the veggie dip, the spoon in his hand liable to rap some knuckles, and Peter knew it, but Charlie didn’t escalate. “You need to get your cousin Gwen dressed out of her school clothes. She had a very important day, passing her finals, and I want to take her out to celebrate.”
He did?! Gwen had no idea, but she raised her brows at Peter. Come on, speak up.
Peter looked uncomfortable. “I… I don’t know. I’m not supposed to talk to— You’re not supposed to be in here! Plus, I think Gwen’s promised anyway.” He cautiously took the green slip from her breast pocket and opened it. His eyes went wide. The marks must have been good.
“Is that true?” Charlie asked me, washing and drying his hands with a dish towel.
“I don’t know. My Dad just said he had leads. My ears aren’t pierced, if that’s what you’re asking. Where were you thinking to take me?”
“Hey, I never said you could go!” Peter interjected, boyish voice breaking.
Charlie kind of shrugged and stuffed the tray of veggies in the younger boy’s hands, taking the approval slip in exchange. He nodded toward Harriet in the TV room. “Go feed her, she’s fidgeting and I’ve heard her stomach growl twice. Apologize too. You shouldn’t have left her alone.”
Peter was so caught off guard by the stranger’s confidence that he honestly had nothing to say, while Charlie hopped back on his phone, not the landline this time.
“Hi, Mr. Cartwright, this is Charlie— err, Charles Young, sir. I’ve just escorted your daughter Gwen home and the handoff went well. Thing is, I’m standing on your porch, sir, and I was hoping I could take your girl to the malt shop on Windermere and 37th Avenue?”
Gwen smiled a shy little smile. He was cutting so many corners just to show her a good time…
“Well I was invited by a couple other volunteer chaperones. I think both of them have dates too, so we won’t be alone… uh huh… yes sir. Well it’s to celebrate her A+’s in three subjects, including Grace and Etiquette. I just thought— Yes I’ll wait for your fax— Yes I’ll tell Peter— I will sir, you too.”
He hung up, then went back to tidying the kitchen.
Peter looked at the new boy, bewildered. “Why did you cover for me?”
Gwen wanted to ask the same question.
“So that you’ll go apologize to your little cousin and then, in record time, get Gwen dressed in something less formal. Come on, now!” He clapped twice. “I could easily tell him the other story if you drag your feet.”
Well suffice to say her cousin didn’t dawdle, and before long Gwen was being pulled up the stairs by her waist leash, beaming a smile down at Charlie who had taken over feeding Harriet carrot sticks and ranch dressing, even using a fork so she could feel like a fancy ballerina being doted on. Drag your feet. He was witty and charming and commanding too, and suddenly Gwen hoped her Dad hadn’t quite found her a match yet.
“Oh one more thing, Peter,” Charlie called from the living room, “Mr. Cartwright said Gwen should be ‘dressed appropriately for being escorted’, if that means anything to you.”
It sure did.
If you enjoy this alternate history and its skewed lens, go read the original series, Thorns and Roses by CelestialSecrets’!