A Twist in the Mist, Chapter Ten

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Madeline took Harold and Archie for a drive around the neighborhood in the green beetle.

"It's got a lever that makes the back of the seat shoot up," Harold explained to TP when they returned. "I worked the lever and Archie rode in the back. Madeline, do you want to see my dump truck?"

They played in the yard until dusk, when TP called Harold in to take his bath.

"Make sure you scrub your legs good," he said. Harold's knees were dark brown from scooting his truck along the dirt road he'd constructed between the lettuce and tomato beds.

Madeline and TP stayed up late, talking. They had much to catch up on, and new things to discuss.

TP had to get one thing off his mind. "That remark you made to Gladys was totally uncalled for, Madeline. Really over the top. Especially since Harold was sitting right there. And don't give me that innocent look. You know perfectly well what remark I'm talking about."

"You weren't supposed to hear it," she said, and put her face in her hands. "I admit it was horrible. Sometimes when I get irritated I just blurt things out without thinking. But you know that."

They shared a smile.

"I'm sorry. Especially about Harold hearing."

"It's Gladys you should apologize to."

"Well, she owes me an apology as well. Implying that my presence is making you sick. Of all the nerve."

"Rise above it, Madeline. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Exactly, so she should keep her trap shut." She grimaced. "It would help if she didn't sound like a screeching parrot."

They both laughed.

"I called Todd," Madeline said. "We're taking his niece and nephew to the aquarium tomorrow, so Harold can come too. Todd's sister's kids are about Harold's age, five and seven. That way you can work in the lab without interruptions."

TP tried to give her money for the tickets, which weren't cheap, but she wouldn't let him. "Todd's sister's husband is a lawyer and makes scads of money. Sarah gave us a wad of money. She's thrilled to get the kids out of her hair for a day. What's that you're drinking?"

"A spagyric formula I've come up with. Chamomile, lemon balm, valerian, passionflower and catnip, with Chinese skullcap for the melatonin."

"Holy cow, that should knock you out cold. Is it bad, falling asleep?"

TP shrugged. "I've been managing. Be sure and lock the deadbolt, and don't open it till morning."

"Got it, TP. Hope you can sleep."

It was not a pleasant night. He jerked awake over and over again, once catching himself standing by the door, trying to open it. The chimera was not pleased.

"Scientist," it hissed in his ear. "Get up, get up, get up."

Bad dreams plagued him: twisted shapes, distorted landscapes, hideous faces.

In the morning, bleary-eyed and headachy, he heard the dead bolt click and dragged himself out of bed. After a long, hot-and-cold shower he shaved, dressed and wandered down the hall. Madeline and Gladys were already going at it. His footsteps slowed even more, listening to their bickering.

"So how long will you be here?"

"As long as I feel like staying."

"I guess free room and board is a big incentive. But shouldn't you be working?"

"I will be."

"Oh? Doing what?"

"None of your business. What's this?"

"Lemon blueberry three grain porridge with toasted pecans. But let's get one thing straight. I cook for Harold and Thad. You can take care of yourself."

"Suits me."

Harold's voice broke in. "You can have some of mine."

Madeline laughed. "That's ok, Harold. Eat up. We've got a big day planned."

Todd came by to pick them up. TP had met Todd several times and thought him a pleasant enough fellow. Not outstanding in any way. Medium height, about an inch or so taller than Madeline, who was five-eight-and-a-half. Medium brown hair and eyes, medium build, regular features. Friendly, easy going. He was a business major, just through his junior year. The tennis type. 

Was that what slightly irked him, TP wondered. Madeline was on a community rowing team, which somehow made tennis seem wimpy. Which was utterly ridiculous, of course. Look at Serena Williams. Every sport had its merits. Was he being snobbish, stereotyping someone because he played tennis? Was it the little white shorts and shoes, the knit shirts with monograms on the pockets? Todd just seemed so...civilized. Even his name was ho-hum. Todd Smith. What kind of name was Todd? It had no oomph to it. A person would need to have a sparkling personality to overcome being a Todd. Which Todd Smith did not. Or maybe subconsciously he was comparing Todd to Madeline's first love, whom she'd met in Minglemist. Well, whatever, it was no use going down that road. Madeline could make her own decisions. 

As they were leaving, TP handed Madeline a large black umbrella. "Take this," he said, "it looks like rain." 

He hoped for a good soaker. Then he wouldn't have to water the garden for awhile.

"So, what are your plans for the day, Thad?"

Gladys had lingered, fussing around the kitchen in a crisp white apron over a yellow dress smattered with daisies and twining greenery. The colors made an interesting contrast with her red hair shade, which TP was pretty sure came from a bottle. At least she hadn't dyed it platinum blond like so many older women did, presumably to hide their grey. Dyed platinum hair looked like melting cotton candy, he thought, dull and lifeless.

"Oh, I have some things to do," he said vaguely.

"You should take the day off and do something fun," Gladys said. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy! My niece gave me tickets to Six Flags; she works there. What do you say we make a day of it and go see the sights?"

She batted her big brown eyes at him hopefully.

He groaned inwardly. Could she possibly not know how irritating her endless cliches were? Six Flags was the last place on earth he would visit. "It's going to rain. And I really have things to do."

Her coral-tinted lips pouted. "I suppose you'll be working in your lab. I can't imagine what's so interesting in there that keeps you so busy. Remember, you promised me a tour." Another hopeful look.

He'd done nothing of the kind. Clearing his throat, he began sorting through some bills on the table, hoping she'd get the message.

"And I guess what's-her-name will be assisting you."

"Madeline. Yes."

A sigh. "Will you be traveling this summer, Thad, like you did last year?"

"Ah, no. I've got plenty to do around here right now."

"Well, you really need to take some time for socializing, and I mean to see that you do! The supper party will be a start. I've been thinking about dates - how does Saturday after next sound?"

"Fine," he said.

"All right then. We'll have to get together and do some planning. So long for now, Thad."

Finally. He wrote some checks, sealed and stamped envelopes and walked out to the mailbox. The wind was picking up, and he heard a rumble of thunder.

Mel was in his driveway, looking at the sky. "Looks like we're finally going to get rain." He pointed up at the dark clouds gathering.

"Looks that way," TP said.

"Hey, have you been hearing about Dr. Demento?"

TP froze. "Oh?" He cast a glance at Mel, certain his guilt must show. 

"Yeah, Dr. Demento, like that old radio show out of California, remember? Marge was on duty at the hospital when they brought some of those folks in. She said she's never seen people so freaked out. That one poor man had chest pains and everything. Can you imagine? I sure hope they catch that maniac." He shook his head and shuddered. "Gives me the creeps."

"Yeah," TP said, hoping Mel didn't notice the tremble in his voice.

"Well, I'm off to show some property. Don't go walking late at night."