9.11 - 8. Chapter 8

June 29, 2001

I sat at my dining room table, staring at the two signet rings in front of me. They sat there like two islands in the middle of an ocean, isolated and alone. The significance of their presence there was devastating, something that may have sent the average person into a tailspin, but I had learned over my sixty-five years to maintain my calm, cool veneer to the degree possible. My time in the academic world, which was in essence my entire adult life, had taught me the benefits of polite and rational discourse. It was unfortunate that Will had not yet learned that lesson. I had seen remarkable progress in him as he’d matured over the past year, but hit with a situation where he simultaneously felt embattled while at the same time convinced he was right, any types of control he had vanished. And that is exactly what had happened tonight. We sat there in silence, contemplating the departure of Will and JJ from the dining room, and probably from Escorial.

Buying this home in 1968 had been one of the smarter things I’d ever done. It had been a fantastic investment, one that had generated returns through its increased value that rivaled those that Stefan was able to achieve with his best IPOs. Even more important, though, it had served as a base, a uniting focal point for my family. I’d worked hard to try and maintain that family unity, and had devoted a good part of my time and energy to revitalizing my hometown, Claremont, Ohio. Part of that work had been mending fences with my brother Jim Crampton, and building a good working relationship with my nephew, Rich. But even though I had positive relationships with both of them, there was no denying that we viewed each other as merely extended family, and there was no tight link between our two branches. I had hoped to avoid that, to build a cohesive unit with my own family that would last, and I had seen Escorial as the geographical center that would seal that bond.

I’d been optimistic that I might achieve that, and leave a unified family behind me when my time came to depart from this world. The events of last year, where Will and Brad had engaged in nothing less than a blood feud, had actually made me feel better about that. In that situation, the intra-family conflicts had spilled over to inter-family conflicts, but as an extended family we’d been able to intervene and guide those two back to a good relationship. And when we’d found out that JJ had been molested by his coach, everyone had banded together to support him. Yet what had happened tonight had exposed my whole dream as a mirage. I feared that when I died, my family would split into three separate entities, and I was concerned that none of the three leaders of those entities was strong enough and well rounded enough to thrive on their own.

Brad had occupied the place of my Dauphin, as Stef called him. Dauphin was the French ancien-regime term for the heir to the throne, analogous to the Prince of Wales in the United Kingdom. It seemed an apt descriptor, what with the strong ties our family had to France. Brad had much to commend him. He was a strong person, and a determined leader. He demanded and got respect, and was a very successful businessman in his own right. He cared deeply for our family, and would fight to the gates of hell for any one of us. But he thrived on control, on being able to get people to do what he wanted them to do, and sometimes that became the end goal, and not the means to the end. He tended to make decisions in isolation, which discouraged buy-in from other members, something that he probably learned from me. But most alarming of all, when he was embattled, he could sometimes lose his moral compass, and focus on the expedient and least disruptive solution instead of the right one.

As I was lamenting Brad’s fall into moral chaos last year, I had occasion to re-evaluate my focus on him and look instead to my daughter, Claire. She sat there near me, so angry and upset that it leaked through her normally cool and composed demeanor. She was quite like me in that way. She tended to enter into a conflict or discussion with the gravitas that came from being respected, and she was usually heard because of her calm and cool approach to things. But when Will had called us out on focusing on appearances instead of substance, he’d hit the bulls-eye with Claire. She wasn’t as concerned about controlling people, as Brad was, but she was very concerned about her image. She fostered her external appearance meticulously, and was truly an arbiter of good taste. And in the community, she did much to try and enhance our family image much as she nurtured her own. Yet her fixation on her standing in society had caused her to lose her focus on the importance of the family unit. It would be difficult for a family member to trust Claire to lead them when they weren’t sure she’d support them if they needed help. Tonight, Will had demonstrated that doubt to be justified.

My other son, Ace, had always had a special place in my heart. He was the son of my first lover, André, who had met and impregnated Isidore all those years ago. I looked across the table at Isidore, this woman with whom I’d had a marriage of convenience since 1963, and pondered how much like Claire she was, both with her strengths and weaknesses. Ace wasn’t a potential leadership heir. He had a hot temper, one he had difficulty controlling, and while other family members shared that unfortunate tendency, with Ace it sometimes stemmed from nothing. When Brad or Claire were upset, they usually had good reason. Ace didn’t necessarily need a reason to lose his composure. Possibly even more damning was his general lack of strategic vision. He tended to tackle problems as they came at him, but didn’t show an overarching vision of where he wanted to go.

The dynamics of the others at this table only added to the schism that was forming. Isidore spent a lot of time with Claire working in socially prominent organizations like the Junior League, and tended to take Claire’s side in any conflict. In a similar manner, Stef tended to instinctively jump in to defend Brad and his sons, especially Will. It wasn’t that these two people didn’t care about the others, or at least I didn’t think that was the case, it was simply a matter of affinity. Brad worked with Stef, and they formed an excellent team, where their strengths and weaknesses complemented each other. I was willing to put modesty aside and acknowledge that Brad had a lot of respect for me, and I was usually able to get through to him, but Stef’s influence on him was even greater.

Frank, Isidore’s husband in all but name, tended to stay out of conflicts and remained silent much of the time unless he was really riled up. And Jack, good husband that he was, could be counted on to back Claire up, even though he and Brad were close friends. That friendship with Brad would make Jack more equitable when Claire and Brad had issues, but it did not extend to Brad’s children.

“I cannot remember the last time I was treated so rudely in my own home,” Isidore said indignantly, breaking the silence.

“I really don’t understand how Will managed to grow up with such horrible manners,” Claire echoed.

“I cannot believe you let him get away with acting like that,” Isidore said to me, pulling me into their rant.

“I do not think I let him get away with anything,” I said calmly but quickly. I sensed that Stef was ready to jump into this fray and fully vent his own thoughts, but I knew that once I took the lead on this, he would stay back and let me handle things. “I explained to him that if he did not control his volume and speak politely, he would have to leave. As he is not here, I would submit that I did not let him get away with anything.”

“But as soon as he returns, it will be as if nothing happened,” Isidore objected. That was an interesting statement from her, considering that she was a forgiving person, and when Will figured out what he’d done and apologized to her, she’d be quick to give him absolution.

“If he returns,” I said, exposing the enormity of what this conflict may portend.

“He will be back,” Stef said confidently. He was closest to Will, and understood how he thought, so if he said that, it was most likely true.

“Not if he is going to behave that way,” Isidore said.

“It is not your place to arbitrarily ban members of this family from my home,” I said to her firmly, less to slap her down than to assert my authority over this matter. “It disturbs me greatly that you are focusing on how Will made his comments, and not what those comments were.”

“If you want people to listen to you, you should address them with respect,” Claire said.

“Have you treated Will with respect, the same respect that you are demanding?” I asked her.

“Are you suggesting that I have not been a good aunt to Will?” Claire asked. Her normally calm demeanor was compromised, and she wasn’t at her best. She’d meant that to be a rhetorical question, and had laid it out there like a challenge.

“I think that is what Will was saying,” I said to her. “You are treating him like an interloper, someone who does not belong here. Someone who is not truly a member of this family.” Before she could really lose it over that statement, Will poked his head in the room and asked to see Stef. Stef got up and left the room, and if the high color in his cheeks hadn’t exposed how upset he was, his walk, and the way he threw his napkin on the table, certainly did. Seeing Stef so irate caused everyone to pause, which was just as well, because I wasn’t going to discuss this without him being present. I thought back to our conflicts when we’d first met, and first became lovers, and contrasted that to our relationship now. I had been with men, had partners whom I had loved dearly, but with Stef, I had found my soul mate. That was one relationship I never had to question or doubt. And when we had fights, I knew that it was just a temporary lapse in our otherwise-loving partnership.

There was a wonderful dinner sitting in front of us, largely untouched, so I opted to go ahead and eat, even though my appetite was seriously diminished by this conflict. The others followed my lead, and we ate in silence. Stef returned shortly and took a little bit of food. He was fastidious about ensuring there was no extra fat on his body, and since he didn’t exercise, that took the form of watching what he ate very carefully. I was less disciplined about my eating habits, but I tried to make up for it by exercising, usually riding. “Will and JJ are going to Malibu,” Stef said, speaking to me. “That may delay our departure tomorrow, since they are taking my plane, and the pilots will need to make sure they are rested enough to fly to Claremont.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to adapt,” I said.

“Are they coming back?” John asked.

“I suspect that Will will come back, but I do not think that JJ will,” Stef said, and shot Claire and Isidore a truly evil look. They were used to Stef being mercurial, but to have him be that angry with them was sobering.

“I expect they’ll both be back for the Bastille Day party,” Claire said. She looked directly at me. “I want you to know that if he apologizes to me for treating me so rudely, I will bear him no ill will.”

Anyone who knew me, would have seen my left eye twitch, and would have known that twitch revealed the anger that I was manfully restraining. “I suspect that when Will comes back, he will do just that. It is extremely disappointing that you have not been able to instill that same characteristic, that sense of remorse, into your own daughter. One of the least attractive traits in a person is the inability to acknowledge when they have erred.”

Jack was irate that I’d attacked his daughter, while Claire and Marie reeled from my comment, but this was important. They’d failed Marie. Admitting your mistakes, and admitting you were fallible, was vital for Marie to be a productive and respected member of society. I was stepping in where they should have. I watched Claire process that, and come to the same conclusion I had derived. “I am even more disappointed than you are,” she said. “I am hoping Marie can learn some humility.”

“I would like to go home,” Marie said.

“Before you go, you may leave your signet ring on the table,” I said to her. “Until you can learn to treat other family members correctly, you do not have the right to wear it.”

With tears running down her cheeks, Marie took her ring off, put it on the table with Will and JJ’s, and then fled from the room. “That was awfully harsh,” Jack said.

“I disagree,” I told him. “This is not a simple argument, this is about a significant flaw in the way you have raised Marie. I am merely stepping in where you should have.” Jack and I had an excellent relationship, but I was stretching it to the breaking point here.

“I’m sorry you don’t appreciate the person that she is,” he said pompously.

“And I am concerned that you do not see the person you are allowing her to become,” I said tersely.

“Just as Will has been able to learn from his extreme behavior, we will have to work to make sure that Marie learns from hers,” Claire said, to get Jack to back down. But it annoyed me that she brought Will up yet again, as if their situations were the same.

“I have listened to most of you rant about Will’s horrible manners and his lack of respect. I have accepted that those things are true. Yet none of you have addressed the things that he said. I think it is important for you to do that.”

“JP, this was all a simple mistake,” Isidore said. “There was no malice intended with the guest list.”

“If that is the case, why didn’t you talk to Will before removing Noah from the guest list?” I asked.

“Maybe they didn’t want a scene,” Jack said.

“Will stated that the focus here was not on family, but on appearances,” Stef said rigidly. “Your comment would appear to further validate that. Instead of investigating and explaining the situation to him, you avoided the topic entirely.”

“The thought of that boy attending had upset Marie,” Isidore said.

“Yet until tonight, none of you knew why,” I noted. “You let her undisclosed reasons cause you to remove Will’s guest from the list, and you didn’t bother to explain that to him. I suspect that if someone had done that to any one of you, you would not have reacted in the calm and reasoned way you are requiring of him.”

“Well…” Isidore began.

“I do not ask for excuses, I ask for explanations. The facts are clear,” I said to her, cutting her off. I stared at Claire and Isidore, waiting for them to say something.

“I am watching this, and listening to what you are saying, JP,” Stef said. “I cannot help but think that we are witnessing the very reason Marie is having such difficulties with admitting errors.” That comment was clearly directed at Claire and Isidore. Their eyes flashed fire, but they said nothing.

“Will has also pointed out that our guest list is quite exclusive, and it appears that I have been remiss in reviewing it prior to this point,” I told him.

“I have always handled the guest list,” Isidore said.

“You have,” I acknowledged. “I am now taking a more active role.”

“It is my party. I have planned it, choreographed it, handled everything,” Isidore said.

“It is not your party, it is a family party,” I reminded her.

“So when Will finally gets back here, will he get off scot-free?” Jack asked.

“His punishment will be the same as Marie’s, and Claire’s, and Isidore’s,” I said. “They will not be invited to the Bastille Day party.”

“You are banning me from my own party?” Isidore demanded, outraged.

“As I just explained to you, it is not your party, it is a family party. But I am indeed banning you from it,” I told her.

“Well,” Claire said, as she folded her napkin up and laid it on her plate, “you have made your position quite clear.”

“I am glad you fully understand the situation,” I said, choosing to take that as a positive. Claire nodded, and then strode confidently out of the room with Jack in tow. John got up and followed them out. He looked back at me nervously, so I gave him a slight smile to show that my issues weren’t with him.

“You talked about Marie in front of John,” Isidore accused.

“He has sometimes exhibited traits similar to hers,” I said with a shrug. “It will do him no harm to learn what is and is not acceptable.”

“How am I supposed to explain my absence?”

“I would think the best thing to do is to claim you were feeling ill, ill enough to remove yourself to Santa Cruz,” I said. We had a beautiful beach house there, one we didn’t use enough. She stood up much as Claire had, and left the room. Frank sat there, saying nothing. He was Robbie’s father, and an old friend of mine from high school, although we hadn’t become close until long after we’d left Claremont West High.

“You did what you had to do,” Frank said to me. He got up and strode off after Isidore. I looked at Stef and he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Would you like me to call Brad?” Stef asked. I stood up and walked to the center of the table and picked up Will’s, JJ’s, and Marie’s rings.

“I feel like a coward for pawning that off on you,” I said to Stef with a loving smile.

“We are partners. You do not have to do all the heavy lifting,” he chided. “Julian has been doing most of the work on the party, so I will work with him to facilitate things, if that is alright with you.”

“No scantily clothed waiters,” I joked. He giggled, and pulled out his phone.

I went out onto the patio and pulled out a joint and lit it. Marijuana relaxed and calmed me in a much less debilitating way than alcohol. I’d done extensive research on its supposed detrimental effects, as befits an academic. I’d found much that was conflicting, but after I’d evaluated all the evidence, I concluded that while pot may not be harmless, it was certainly less harmful than alcohol or tobacco. I inhaled the smoke and leaned back, then exhaled slowly.

I looked out at the twinkling lights of the Bay Area, and strangely enough, I was reminded of my grandfather. He was a crusty old bastard, one that was severe and taciturn. My cousin Steve had left a diary that he started before World War II and continued up until his death in the Battle of the Bulge, and there was a passage where he described a scene he had with my grandfather, a confrontation with him and my brother and father. That scene had triggered so many memories of my interactions with him, and how he’d handled his family. He was strong and imperious, one who commanded respect and demanded to be obeyed. I’d always thought he was completely lacking in warmth, but after my dinner tonight, I began to wonder if he wasn’t that way just to keep his unruly family in line. Will had brought up Tonto, which was ironic since he was so much like her. It must have been quite a challenge for my grandparents, with their severe and dour manner, to raise such a free-spirited maverick as Tonto. That thought made me laugh out loud.

“And what is so funny?” Stef asked.

“I was just pondering how much fun it must have been for my grandparents to raise Tonto,” I said. He laughed with me then.

“Bradley would like you to call him.”

“I probably should have waited to get high,” I said. Brad could be difficult to handle.

“I suspect it will be alright,” Stef said.

I walked over to a table near the house and grabbed the mobile handset and called Brad. “I heard you had an eventful evening,” Brad said after our initial greetings.

“It was sobering,” I allowed.

“I’m sorry that Will was so rude to you, and that he made such a scene,” Brad said.

“It is not your place to apologize for his actions,” I said firmly.

“I’ll make sure he does that himself,” Brad said.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” I asked with a playful tone, making him chuckle. “I would prefer that you let him work through this on his own.”

“It sounds like you handled this in a fair way, Dad,” he said. “Thanks.”

That was high praise, coming from Brad. “Will made some very good points, and had very legitimate grievances. He has not yet learned that if he would have dealt with them in a more calm and deliberate manner, he would have gotten better results.”

“I’m not sure he’s genetically pre-disposed to do that,” Brad joked, referring to his own tendency to do the same thing.

“Perhaps,” I said in a jovial way, even though I thought Will was more than capable of learning and adapting. I had the same confidence in Marie. “Would you be willing to pass on to him that he is not invited to the Bastille Day party?”

“I will,” Brad said.

“And you can tell him that does not mean he is banished from Escorial, or that I do not want to see him.”

“I’ll pass that along as well,” Brad said.

“Would you like to know who the most impressive person was at dinner tonight?”

“Who?” Brad asked.

“JJ,” I told him. “He made no scenes, and said nothing, not that saying nothing is a good thing. But in this case, he let Will fight his fight, and then when Will left, JJ went with him, fully supporting him like one would hope a brother would do. When people remember this, they will remember his silent strength.”

“He’s come a long way in these past few months,” Brad said.

“He has,” I agreed. I could not help but believe that being at Escorial, around his family, had helped JJ recover from his trauma. I knew he had been considering moving back to Malibu, but it troubled me that these latest issues had, at the very least, accelerated that process.

“They should be here soon. I’ll see you in Claremont tomorrow,” Brad told me. I hung up the phone, and hoped that when the dust settled, these incidents would make all of the parties involved better, and smarter.

I went into the bedroom and found Stef sitting in bed, reading. He never used to do that, but it was one of my habits that had apparently transferred to him. “And how did your conversation go?”

“Quite well,” I said.

“So were you out on the patio, flagellating yourself?” Stef asked, trying to annoy me enough to talk about what happened.

“No, actually I have given up on endless self-recrimination. I am learning to accept my blame, pay my consequences, and move on. It is much easier to travel forward when I am not pulling cartloads of baggage.”

Stef laughed at me. “Bradley seemed in a good enough mood to risk turning him loose on you.”

“It seems that I cannot make both of my children happy at the same time, which makes me worry that I was too hard on Claire and Marie.”

“JP, Marie is a lovely young lady, but she has been coddled to the degree that she thinks she is perfect. It is a spell that must be broken. If it is not, the consequences can be dire. I am thinking of Bitty, and how she was like that,” Stef said, referring to his niece. “Everyone hated her, and she was an embarrassment to the family.”

“I can’t see Marie like that at all,” I told him. “I think it is something she must learn, not something that will destroy her.”

“But it could, and Jack and Claire have not even acknowledged the problem, much less compelled her to deal with it,” Stef said earnestly. “Claire thought Marie had apologized to Will. That is how uninvolved she is with how Marie is handling this.”

“In the meantime, you can put your talents to work on teaching Will how to have civil conversations to express his anger instead of emotional rants,” I said, being grumpy.

“Will was not angry,” Stef said. I looked at him, confused. “He would not have acted that way if he were angry. He was hurt.”

“He seemed angry to me,” I said, even though Stef was probably right.

“He tried to invite a friend to a family party, and that friend was dropped off the list with no notice or explanation provided to him,” Stef said, recapping. “Then, a young man who had caused him bodily harm was asked to attend, as was a man who assaulted his brother.”

“I am aware of that,” I told him. I had no desire to go over the same issues again.

He ignored my irritation. “He was hurt because he was relegated to a lower place, a lower priority, than mere acquaintances, and he was hurt because Isidore, Claire, and Marie did not watch out for him, or for Darius. It was, to him, a tangible form of rejection. He does not handle rejection well.”

“This much is true,” I said, but I could see his point. It was much the same thing that I’d told Claire. They’d treated him like he didn’t belong here. “In any event, I must put these events behind me and focus on the big festival in Claremont. We have much to do while we are there.”

“I will try not to let the joy from being in Claremont send me into a euphoric coma,” Stef said sarcastically. Before I could bitch at him for that, the phone next to my bed rang.

I looked at the caller-ID and raised an eyebrow. “It is Will,” I told Stef. “Hello,” I said somewhat rigidly as I answered the phone.

“Grand? It’s Will,” I heard him say nervously.

“I am most pleased to hear that, since it means that my caller-ID is working,” I said somewhat sarcastically.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late,” he said.

“It is not late, but I am contemplating going to bed, so perhaps you will tell me why you called.” I was being polite, but direct.

“I’m sitting here in my room in Malibu and I can’t sleep, I can’t do anything. The only thing I can do is puke,” he said.

“Are you unwell?” I asked.

“I just feel so bad about losing it like that. I broke a whole bunch of rules, and I shouldn’t have done that. I know that I should be saying this to you in person, but I just needed to tell you that, to apologize.”

“I appreciate your call,” I said, trying not to smile.

“I was going to go to Claremont with Dad and Robbie tomorrow. Is that OK?”

“You do not have to ask my permission to go to Claremont, and you do not have to ask my permission to come back here. The only thing you have been banned from is the Bastille Day party.”

“I understand. I won’t be there,” he said hastily.

“I am glad you are going to Claremont. I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” I told him.

“Thanks,” he said, with a definite bounce of happiness. “Night.”

“Good night,” I said. Stef looked at me, asking me what that was all about with just his eyes. “Will couldn’t sleep until he called and apologized.”

“We will have to see if Marie feels the same way,” Stef noted. We went to bed shortly after that. Marie didn’t call.