In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 34: In Memorium

One Month Later

Frank stood by the kitchen counter sipping from a fresh cup of coffee. A red presentation folder containing exactly three sheets of paper rested under his other hand.

"What about this?" Dean asked, stepping out of the bedroom. He wore the dark gray suit Frank liked with a pressed white shirt. A dark gray silk tie with shimmering light gray angled stripes completed the ensemble.

"Lose the tie," Frank suggested despite the fact he wore a dark blue tie. "That's my favorite suit of yours, by the way."

Whipping off the tie, Dean studied him. "I don't remember seeing your tie before."

Frank took a deep breath before replying, "Dad's." He held up his left wrist to show off Dad's cuff links too.

"He had good taste," Dean replied. "But you're sure about my suit? I want to make a good impression on your family."

"Then go naked." Frank grinned. "That'll make a helluva an impression."

Dean shot him a sour glance. "Lisa would like it too much. No thanks."

"Are you ready yet?" Frank demanded. "I've been waiting forever."

"Okay, all right." Dean glanced at his watch. "We're leaving early? Really?"

Frank picked up the red folder as he set his half empty coffee cup by the sink.

"Early is good. I like early." Dean rushed to beat him to the front door.

After snagging the lone wallet off the front table, Frank's was already in his pocket, Dean opened the door for them. Dean also locked up behind them. Not sparing a glance for the elevator, Frank headed directly for the stairs. Five flights was nothing, up or down. Sometimes when he remembered thinking how difficult going down five flights used to be, not so long ago, it seemed to be in a distant past.

The second set of feet accompanying him in the stairwell always made him feel better. Not alone. If God let him have his way he would never feel alone again. Maybe He would. Considering his health condition he should die first. It was an oddly comforting thought. The Big Man Upstairs had plans within plans. For the moment Frank contented himself with believing it.

Once they hit the street a black towncar waited outside the building, a uniformed chauffeur standing at attention by the rear passenger door.

"You didn't tell me Jim was sending a car," Dean chided. "Are we late? I hope George hasn't been waiting too long."

"He's early," Frank replied, his hand clutching his red folder as if it might disappear. "George is always early."

"Morning Mister Frank, Mister Dean," George said stiffly in his most professional manner. He opened the rear door and stood at attention like a rank and file soldier in the presence of the general.

Pausing before entering the car, Frank peered into George's face. He saw sympathy and friendship there.

"When we get there, you will come in? You're not waiting outside with the car."

There was a pause before George responded with, "But Mister Frank, I'm not family."

"You're a friend," Frank assured him. "It would mean a lot to me if you came in with us."

"Yes, Mister Frank." George nodded once. "Of course, sir. An honor."

From anyone else Frank would have been insulted by the overly gracious phrase, typically only used in modern society as sarcasm. However from George, Frank could safely trust it was meant with the same sincerity as it was spoken.