See Shells, Sea Shells

Chapter 7

Colton, Richard, and Jake followed Mrs. Beecher through the garden to her house. The yard was surprisingly unkempt for such a ritzy neighborhood. Old brown Leaves and dried-up palm fronds were scattered about and waste paper littered the ankle-high grass, blown in from the beach. There were plastic grocery bags clinging to the branches of the overgrown shrubs. Mr. Beecher's prize putting green was the worst. A once neatly trimmed space was now overrun by weeds and yellowing grass.

Richard was shocked. "Wow, Mrs. Beecher, what happened here?" he asked as he stepped over a large dead palm frond that blocked the path. "Oh, the landscape company came a few times after Mr. Beecher passed but after a while, they just stopped," she replied as she ushered the boys inside.

The dark kitchen was almost as depressing as the once pristine yard was. Not that it was dirty but there was a definite air of neglect. Jake reached for the counter to steady himself and his hand fell on a stack of unopened mail. "What's this?"

"Hmm," Mrs. Beecher turned from the cabinet with a handful of plates.

Jake was casually sorting through the pile. "All these bills..."

"Oh, I should get on that one of these days but I just don't seem to have the energy, I guess."

"And there's no one that can help you?"

"Oh mercy, no. All our children have grown up and moved away. They don't have time for their own mother these days I'm afraid." She placed an impressive stack of cookies on each plate and set them in front of the boys. "Who wants milk?"

Jake and Richard looked at each other. "Um, Mrs. Beecher," Richard began, "if you don't pay your bills..."

"I know, I know," The old lady sat down at the table and cupped her chin in her hands. Richard sat down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "If it's a question of money, Mrs. Beecher..."

"No, no, money isn't a problem. It's just that, well, I just can't bring myself to face them."

"Mrs. Beecher," Richard began but his voice trailed off. He looked at Jake who just shrugged his shoulders. Colton took a nibble from one of his cookies and then set it down. He had suddenly lost his appetite. There was a long silence as Mrs. Beecher gathered her wits. Richard began again. "I think I could help you with that if you wouldn't mind."

"You?" Jake objected. "You can hardly master 7th-grade math. Look, Mrs. Beecher, my father is a CPA, I'm sure if I asked..."

"It doesn't take a CPA to pay bills, Jake."

"Well, it's better than a 7th-grade dropout."

"I'm not a dropout."

"Boys! Boys! Please!" Mrs. Beecher interrupted. "I won't have you fighting like this! It's nice of you to offer but it's my problem and I'll..."

"I'll get going on cleaning up the yard!" Colton smiled, raising from his seat. "And I'll sort your mail," Jake continued. "I guess that just leaves straightening up around here for me," Richard sighed.

"Oh, mercy!" Mrs. Beecher sobbed. "I just don't..."

"Don't worry about a thing," Richard reassured her. "We've got this."

Mrs. Holmes went to the fence that separated her yard from the beach with Little Willy in tow. She looked up and down the beach but her wayward son Jake and his friends were nowhere in sight. "Well, Willy," she sighed as they turned back toward the house, "if they don't show up soon, they're going to miss their ride."

Willy frowned and put his thumb in his mouth. With only the occasional walker traversing the beach in the heat of the late afternoon, he had become quite used to showing his Little side in the semi-privacy of his own backyard. "Mommy mad?" he ventured at last.

"Oh, no, sweetheart, not mad. Let's just say that I'm not happy and I'm becoming more "not happy" by the moment."

"I thought the last house we saw was simply adorable, didn't you?" The real estate agent gushed as she stirred her iced coffee. The Thornberrys looked at each other and shrugged.  "Well, I guess," Ginger began. "But it's miles from the beach and it's not even on a canal, much less the Intercoastal."

"Yes, I'm afraid that Richard wouldn't like it at all." The agent was just about to inquire about who exactly this Richard was when the waiter interrupted. 

"Well, at least I have some idea what you are looking for," Mrs. Stingle, their agent, sighed as they stood outside the cafe a few minutes later. "A large house near your friends, with a private backyard, on the water, with breathtaking views. Shouldn't be a problem at all." 

Morton laughed, "We don't mean to be difficult, Mrs. Stingle, but we know what we like."

"Of course, you do. What say we meet back here in a day or two? That will give me some time to go through my listings."

Richard looked around. He had made amazing progress given the circumstances but there was so much more cleaning to do. He rinsed out the dust cloth at the kitchen sink, hung it up to dry, and went to find his friends. 

Jake had all the bills sorted and stacked. There was a pile of envelopes all stamped and ready to go out and Mrs. Beecher's spirits were much better. She smiled up at Richard as he looked over Jake's shoulder. "If you choose this option..." Richard began, as he pointed to the item on the invoice Jake was working on.

"I've got this, Richard!" Jake exclaimed as he slapped Richard's hand away. 

Richard threw up his hands, "Alright. Just sayin'..." 

Mrs. Beecher sighed in relief. "I think that's enough for today, boys," she began. Then she looked at her watch. "Mercy, look at the time!"

"The time?" Jake and Richard gasped. "We've got to go!"

"Oh, dear. I didn't mean it that way! Won't you stay for dinner? It's the least I could do."

"We're sorry, Mrs. Beecher. Some other time."

Mrs, Beecher walked them to the back door. "Well, if you must," she began, and then her eyes grew wide. Colton was pushing a mower across the lawn and he had managed to cut both the back and side yard. In addition, there was a pile of limbs and sacks full of lawn clippings stacked neatly near the garage. "Mercy!" she exclaimed and began to sob again. "Everything's so beautiful!"