Page 49 of Jack of All Trades

She led them, walking with her chin held high, her ten-thousand-dollar bag hefted on the crook of her arm while the other passed over her clothes to assure she was looking her best. Maltin teased his family a lot, but he loved them fiercely andsuddenly felt terrible that he hadn’t visited his mother in three long years.

He took Jack’s hand, and they followed Trudy, all set on their quest. Rodney was almost skipping, ready for a fight, as always. The man loved showing off his powers.

The four of them walked up the gravel road as Trudy complained, “You couldn’t have aimed closer, Rodney? These shoes are Jimmy Choos!”

“Sorry, my dear. I’ll find you a new pair once we’re finished here.”

“And a pair of the snakeskin?”

“Of course, my dear.”

Maltin watched Jack, watching them. Maltin could tell he wasn’t used to a family like his, one where the love was evident in the bickering they did with one another. “You’ll soon be razzing them like we all do to each other.”

“Not soon, but I’d like that. Really I would.”

“Good. Now, head high, Jack. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You never have. They only made you believe that.”

“What’s this?” Trudy asked as she turned. “Were they cruel to you, dear?”

“Not cruel, exactly. More like…”

“Dismissive, Mother. Once he didn’t show that he had their powers, they…”

“Why, that’s intolerable! For all they knew, you were their son!”

There was a new fire in their eyes, and she started up the drive again, uncaring any longer about her shoes.

When the house came into view, Maltin nearly laughed. It was trite and predictable if ever he’d seen a house. Even Trudy was laughing. “My goddess, is this some old movie set? What the hell?” She seemed to think she’d hurt Jack’s feelings, but when she turned to apologize, Jack just laughed.

“I always thought it was stupid.”

The huge estate was made of black brick with blacker trim, towering gables, turrets, and spires, holding shining silver points on each. There were gargoyles and stained-glass windows out of a storybook castle that would house the wickedest of witches.

The front lawn was half a mile long, and two winged horses sat on either side of the wrought iron gate. “Trite,” Trudy said, then smoothed a hand down her suit again before arriving at the callbox.

Jack went to it and pushed the button. A male voice came over the speaker, “We don’t allow salespeople or solicitors of any kind. State your business.”

“It’s me, Jackson Pengrove. I’ve come to see Mother and Father.”

“Mr. Pengrove, you weren’t expected. You know your parents like you to call ahead.”

“Call ahead from their son?” Trudy was burning with anger, but Rodney hushed her with a look.

“I’ve come to speak to them about something important. I’ve brought guests. Perhaps they’ve heard of the Hilderbrand and Graves families?”

Silence in response for at least a full minute before the man came back on and said, “Come to the front, Jackson.”

The gate motor whirred, and soon, they were all four walking through, up the long drive. Maltin was close to Jack, knowing how hard this was going to be on him. It didn’t help, or perhaps it did, that Trudy was so taken back by their reception of their son.

“Call ahead, well, I never! Call ahead? I’d be overjoyed if my son dropped in on me. Ever. Even once.”

Maltin heard the accusation mixed in with her disdain. “Yes, Mother, but when are you ever in one place for long?”

“I’ve been in France, in the same chateau I’m in every January, for nearing two months now, Maltin Graves.”

“No Theodore? You must be losing your perturbance at me.”

“Don’t press my temper, Maltin. I’m in no mood. Suddenly, I’m very upset.”

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