See Shells, Sea Shells

Chapter 2

He climbed the stairs ahead of his parents. With his right hand, he touched the cold aluminum skin of the corporate jet before ducking inside. His mother, who was holding his new teddy bear for him to save him from embarrassment, glanced back at her husband and smiled. He chuckled at his son's superstitious gesture. 

The boy waited for his parents to get settled before taking a seat next to his mother. He strapped himself in and she handed him his bear which he snuggled tightly. The overhead bins were secured, the ramp was retracted and the plane prepped for takeoff. It taxied to the end of the runway. "Well, here we go," his mother said as the engines roared. 

It was the exact opposite of what he had experienced when the jumbo airliner from their previous Florida trip took off and seemingly stalled in mid-air. The small jet streaked upward with such speed that Richard was pushed back into his seat. The steep climb was almost more unsettling to him than that near stall and he instinctively reached out and squeezed his mother's hand, his eyes popping and his face contorted from the added  G's. 

It wasn't until the jet reached cruising altitude that he finally looked around. His mother seemed completely relaxed as if what they had just experienced was nothing new. Laughing nervously, he let go of her hand and she picked up his teddy bear, which had tumbled to the floor when he panicked. 

Just as she was about to say something, the steward interrupted her with their drink order. Richard was served rootbeer without being asked about his preference, while Mr. and Mrs. Thornberry received cocktails. He glanced at his father when the beverage was placed on his tray but Morton was suddenly preoccupied with his phone. And that didn't go unnoticed by his mother, either. 

"We're supposed to be relaxing and enjoying this trip as a family, dear," she reminded him. "Just what's so important that you're paying more attention to that stupid thing instead of us?"

"Umm..." Morton hummed as he finished typing. He put down the phone on the tray and sighed. "Don't hate me..."

"What?" Ginger began, suddenly concerned with her husband's demeanor. "What now, Mr. Thornberry?"

"It's our realtor. we were outbid on the beach house. The deal fell through."

"What!" Richard exclaimed. His father's stern gaze stopped him from expressing further displeasure at the news. Not so for his mother. She was suddenly fed up with her husband's apparent lack of business acumen. She grabbed her drink and her purse and moved to a seat across the aisle. "First Stringgen, now this," she erupted in anger. "What kind of businessman are you?" 

"Now, dear..."

"Dad..."

"Not now, Richard," Morton admonished him. 

Ginger wasn't in the mood to listen to reason. She turned away and stared out the window. "I don't want to hear anymore."

Morton glanced at his son, whose eyes were shooting daggers at him. He sighed and went back to his phone. The steward had wisely and discreetly disappeared, leaving the family alone. An uncomfortable silence settled over the cabin. Richard was furtively glancing at the man, who seemed lost in his own desolate world. After forty-five minutes of absolute quiet, he couldn't stand it any longer. With a sideways glance at his mother, who seemed to be sleeping, he took his drink and went to sit down next to his father.

"Dad? What happened?" he whispered. His dad ignored him but Richard was persistent. Finally, Morton set his phone down and answered him. "Well, realtors are supposed to be discreet so I couldn't find out from her, but I was able to get some information from your Uncle Donny."

"So?"

"You're not going to believe this. The people who outbid us? It's the Holmes."

"What!" Richard hissed. He balled up his fists and said a little too loudly, "Boy, that Jake! Wait till I see him again!"

"Now, Richard..." Morton swatted his son's hands down. "keep it to a whisper. You'll wake your mother."

"Too late," Ginger opened her eyes and swiveled her chair around so she could face her husband. "What's this about the Holmes's?"

Morton looked at his wife plaintively. "Now, dear..."

"Tell me."

"Well," Morton sighed, "according to Donny when he was out looking at boats with Mr. Holmes they got to talking about houses. At that point, Wilton explained that Evette was so taken with the beach villa that when she discovered it was for sale, she bid on it. I guess Evette's bid was so high that our realtor didn't even bother to ask us for a counteroffer."

"That little..." 

"Now, dear..." Morton interrupted her before her words bruised Richard's tender ears. "I know it's a disappointment but the Grants have offered to put us up until we find another house."

"They have?"

"Yes, they have."

"The question is, can we put up with the Grants?"

"Richard, that's not nice. They're putting themselves out for us. Colton even selected a bedroom for you. They tell me that it's very nice."

"Nice?" Richard protested. "Have you seen Colton's room? I'll probably end up living in a broom closet!"

"It doesn't matter. What's done is done," Morton sighed. "You have two choices. You can brood over the unfairness of it all and be miserable, or accept it and move on." He looked at Richard who had his fists clenched and his head bowed; and his wife, who was staring out the window again.

"Well...which is it?" he asked after an interminable silence. 

"I'm thinking. I'm thinking," Richard replied, his hand on his cheek.

"Come on, Richard, it's not that hard. You know the answer."

"Okay, I'll be miserable," Richard smirked. That caused his mother to laugh in spite of herself. "Alright, dear," she said as she came back to sit next to her husband. "We'll give them the benefit of the doubt. But don't think I'm not going to have words with Evette when I see her. We've been friends for years and then she goes and pulls something like this."

"Honey, you know how these things work," Morton squeezed her hand. " According to Donny, the Holmes had no idea we were the other party."

"That's no excuse," Ginger sniffed as she took a sip from her drink.