Worth

Chapter 19

Breakfast was by chance at eleven. Everyone seemed to appreciate that these were the easy days before Olivia and Lee had children; before Violet had in-laws of her own to please. The smell of the roasting wood in the fireplace made looking out the window at the snowy world outside more blissful, but it was the electric heat from the kitchen stove that penetrated thick socks and brand new fuzzy slippers gathered around the table.

Byron March shuddered as Lee mashed jam into his eggs. Violet cringed at her mother drizzling her maple syrup over her entire plate. Olivia peeled the fat away from her own bacon, leaving her with salty red toothpick strips. The Court Jester played on the countertop mini television. Byron raised the volume with a, "Watch, guys. Watch this part," as Danny Kaye was about to be knighted at a hilarious speed. Violet ate a muffin and toast, heavy on the butter.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang.

"Don't you dare," Evelyn warned Byron. He cocked an ear, his eyebrows danced.

All knew that the man of the house would be way too curious to ignore the intrusion. He loved a good chastisement and it wasn't every Boxing Day that someone volunteered on the doorstep to let him let them have it.

"Oh, honey," Evelyn pleaded. But it was no use. Byron's eyes were gleaming.

"It's a little late for cooked goose," he said, licking his chops.

"It's right on time for sitting duck," said Violet.

Her father was gone long enough for Lee to steal Olivia's bacon fat and for her mother to fuss with her robe and prepare another frozen orange juice. Violet and Olivia strained to hear the conversation going on in the foyer over the tap's running water and gave up all together as Evelyn's stirring spoon clanged against the sides of the pitcher.

Byron returned smiling with satisfaction. He rubbed his palms together and sat, picking up with his eggs where he left off.

"Well, who was it?" Evelyn asked.

"It's the cops," he said succinctly. They're looking for Violet."

"Seriously, Daddy," Olivia groaned.

Violet har-harred.

Evelyn wiped her hands on a towel. "Who wants orange juice?"

"Seriously, Violet. Officer Gleason is waiting for you."

Violet stared at him nervously. "That's it?" Her father nodded. "You can't just say, 'it's the cops' and send me out there!"

"Oh, yes I can."

"I'm in my jammies."

"You're decent."

Lee said, "You'd better change in case they take you to the station."

"Very funny, Lee."

"It is downtown," Byron shrugged.

"Byron, you're a scream. Knock it off," his wife scolded him.

"She'll be right there, Hank!" he yelled.

"Take him some muffins," her mother said, hurrying to gather a few in a cloth napkin.

"Mom!"

"I forgot to write their Christmas card."

She swiped the muffins before her mother could tie off a quick ribbon around the napkin knot. "Promise me you'll visit me," Violet said. She trudged out of the kitchen still thinking it was a joke. When she got to the foyer, Hank Gleason, a policeman her family had become familiar with since moving into the neighbourhood, was waiting.