Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"There won't be any improvement," she predicted. "That's not a place to go for improvement. It's where you go to wait. God's waiting room," she muttered. "I imagine you'll have me put there someday, too. If I need to be, don't hesitate," she advised. "Hopefully, that won't be for a while, but when my time comes, it comes," she concluded.

For the gala Grandma Olivia suggested I wear the dress Dorothy Livingston had bought me in Beverly Hills. All these months she never mentioned the two expensive outfits hanging in my closet, but I knew she was aware of them.

"There's no point in letting something like that go to waste. If someone was foolish enough to spend that sort of money, well ... take advantage of it. I'd like to see you in it first, of course," she added.

I nodded and ran upstairs to put it on. She scrutinized me for a few moments and nodded.

"Suitable," she declared, "for such an occasion. You are someone with position in this community now. You should look the part. There will be a number of young men from quality families attending, too. I hope you make acquaintances with some of these people. Of course, I'll see to it that you are introduced properly. What are you going to do with your hair?"

"My hair?"

"I can have my beautician come over and do something special for you, if you'd like."

"No, I think I'll just wear it down. Maybe just trim my bangs. I can do that myself."

"If you insist," she said. "I have a ruby and sapphire necklace that would go with that dress," she added. "It was my mother's."

"Really? Thank you," I said, truly honored that she would entrust me with such a gift, even for just one night.

I told Kenneth about Grandma Olivia's new and improved persona when he picked me up to go to Judge Childs's. I thought he would laugh and make his quips about the Queen Lady or something, but he was very distracted by his own thoughts and anxiety. I talked mostly to keep from riding in dead silence.

When we turned up the road that led to the Judge's house, Kenneth almost turned the car around.

"This is a mistake," he muttered. "I shouldn't have agreed to it. All we needed was a reception at the gallery."

"Please, Kenneth. You know everyone is looking forward to a big party. We'll make sure it's fun."

"Fun," he said as if that were a dirty word.

The Judge's house came into view. I

remembered the first time I had been here, how much more impressed with it I was than with Grandma Olivia's home. The Judge's three-story Adam Colonial had been restored in a Wedgwood blue cladding and had a semicircular entry porch. What made it even more unique was its large octagonal cupola. There was an elaborately decorated frieze above all the front windows.

The driveway brought us to a circle where there was a whirl of activity. An army of groundspeople were everywhere pruning and trimming, cleaning fountains and walkways, washing windows, planting new flowers in the rock gardens. When we entered the circular drive, I could see the huge party tent, in front of which the caterers were discussing their setup with Judge Childs. Beside him was his butler, Morton. Everyone turned to look our way.

Kenneth just sat in the jeep staring at the front entrance of the house.

"It must have been very nice growing up here, Kenneth."

"Yes, it was," he said and stepped out of the jeep.

Morton approached as quickly as he could to greet us.

"Why hello there, Mr. Kenneth. It's good to see you, good to see you," he said reaching for Kenneth's hand before Kenneth lifted it. He shook it vigorously and gazed at me. His face was bright with happiness. "And you too, Miss Melody. You're looking fine. Isn't this going to be a celebration. The Judge was up an hour earlier than usual this morning. Neither of us could sleep just thinking about all the festivities. It's good you're here, Mr. Kenneth. Oh, it's a fine, beautiful day, isn't it?"

He stood there, hoping for some softening in Kenneth's face, some sign that the war between father and son had ended.

"Hello Morton. It's good to see you, too," Kenneth said finally offering him a smile. "You know, Morton here was just as responsible for my

upbringing as my mother and father," Kenneth said.

"Oh go on with you, Mr. Kenneth. I didn't do much."

"No, just carted us kids around everywhere, watched over us, played with us. You taught me how to swing a baseball bat, didn't you, Morton? Morton could have been a pro," he told me.

"Oh no, Miss Melody. That's not true. I wasn't that good."

"He was great."