Hello,
I’ve started Family Trust 2, very slowly and have gotten a few chapters down. I thought I’d post one up here that I just wrote. The first one is already available to everyone and I’m hoping to complete this by early next year. Enjoy!
Chapter Two
The Young Tailor
Henry Taylor was looking into a full-length mirror before him, critiquing the navy suit his tailor had just pinned, completing its precise fit. The attire was a bespoke creation from a Tasmanian designer, who had contributed pieces to Henry’s wardrobe for many years. Now that he was seventy-five, the cut of his suits was certainly not as figure hugging as they once were, but the finished product always complimented his frame.
“Roland has outdone himself,” remarked Henry to his tailor, Rodney. “He has used Vicuna cloth before, for one of my suits, but this looks and feels more comfortable.”
“Vicuna,” remarked Rodney in appreciation. “Beautiful fabric. You do get what you pay for, sir.”
Henry looked to Rodney and frowned. The twenty-two-year-old man had become one of his family’s permanent staff in the last year, having proved himself an exceptional asset in a variety of tasks that they had given to him. He was however, inclined to trivialise his own expertise, on occasion.
“Cost is irreverent Rodney, if you have passion for something. Whether it’s suits, a sporting endeavour, or wine. The price of something your passionate about, is a secondary consideration. If you are to convince people of your expertise and unwavering expectation of quality in your customers attire, cost should not enter the conversation.”
“Understood, sir.”
Henry looked once more at himself in the mirror. He might have felt relatively young, but the years were certainly starting to show. His once thick brown hair was thinning - although there was still some on top. The glasses he had adopted around five years prior for reading, were now a permanent fixture of his look. A look that he hoped was of distinction, as opposed to the old and tired man, he often saw before him.
He removed the suit jacket and returned it to the coat hanger it had arrived on. He passed it to Rodney and walked to the door of his downstairs dressing room, nodding his head towards the tailor to follow him. Fitting his suit was the main agenda of their day, but not the only one.
“How is the family?” asked Henry.
“They are good,” said Rodney, hooking the jacket to the rack in Henry’s open wardrobe and falling in line behind him. “James has given me the notes for your next meeting. He seems concerned about revenue for this quarter. Also, some long standing contracts have him confused. His notes are as vague as usual. He wrote down the word ‘island’ as one item.”
Henry shrugged. James was often vague in relaying detail, but he rarely missed a beat these days. No doubt he was just seeking some quick advice to confirm his trajectory. Since Henry had stepped back into an advisory role for the Griffon business as a whole, it had been mostly smooth sailing.
“Rachel wants to have sex with me. She told me that I should be ready for her, if I choose to return to her house again.”
Henry glanced at the young man, who was looking ahead, avoiding eye contact. Rodney was deviating from the usual course of conversation. They would usually discuss Melissa next, not Rachel. No doubt this issue was in the forefront in the tailor’s mind. “If Rachel is making you feel uncomfortable, you do not have visit on her anymore. You also do not need to do what she tells you. Do you want to sleep with her?”
Rodney shrugged. He looked up briefly in thought and then nodded, saying “Even though she is quite a bit older than me, she is attractive. Yes, I would like to have sex with her.”
“Are you asking my permission?”
“Well, I wouldn’t do so without it,” said the young man dutifully.
Henry sighed at the precarious situation. While James and Rachel hadn’t seen each other since their wedding day, they were still married. It had been just shy of a year since the ceremony, and the two were yet to address the issue. Now that the Family Trust had been disbanded and the assets distributed, it was well within their rights to divorce. He doubted there was a future where they were living together in happiness.
He stopped walking, while continuing to face his protégé. Rodney was older than his years when it came to experience in his chosen craft, but his youthful libido no doubt yearned for that same level of polish. He also suspected that Rachel had ulterior motives in the proposed exchange. The woman had dangerous tendencies, which was why he was having her monitored in the first place. Could the young man successfully mix business with pleasure?
“In this decision, you do not need my permission. I would prefer to stay out of it. I would warn you of Rachel though. I am convinced she had a part in the attempt on Mel’s life last year, although you are the only one I have divulged that to. If you decide to do this, you will report to me if she asks anything more from you than fun in the bedroom. I will also leave it in your hands as to how you deal with the situation with James.”
Dropping the conversation, Henry then asked, “Is Mel OK? In general, I mean. I haven’t seen her or David in a number of weeks now.”
“Mel is good. I mean, her and David are good. They seem to bicker a lot, but I presume that is their way. Mel is trying to get him to help with the family business and it frustrates her that he would still rather be serving drinks at a pub,” said Rodney.
“Being a skilled barman is a worthy profession,” replied Henry. “They are often adept at listening to their customers, and know when best to give, and not give advice. It requires patience - especially in a sleepy tavern, like the one David works at. He is a good fit for Melissa.”
Rodney’s phone beeped, notifying them both that he had received a message. The tailor pulled the device from his jeans pocket, and read it to himself. “I have to get to Rachel’s,” he then said.
“Really,” replied Henry, with a raised eyebrow.
“Not for that, sir. Thank you for what you said. I will be pursuing that. But for now, I’ve just had a message from Mel. She has demanded that I meet her at the Harris home. Something has happened.”
Henry knew that Mel’s message didn’t say ‘what’ had happened, otherwise Rodney would have told him. “You best go then,” said Henry.
“I will let you know if it’s anything of interest,” replied Rodney. “It is unusual that Mel would go to Rachel’s.”
“Agreed,” Henry paused before adding, “Rodney, take Mel’s lead on this one.”
“You think it is something big?” asked the tailor.
Henry shrugged. “No doubt it’s something significant. James and Melissa are now managing a complex business and hurdles will arise from time to time. While her tendency is to lean on the people around her, Melissa is more than capable at leading herself. More so than James I believe in certain situations.”
“Understood, sir. I will follow Mel’s lead. I could come back later today to finish the suit?” suggested Rodney. “I would need an hour to complete the adjustments.”
“The Prime Ministers ball isn’t until next week. It can wait,” replied Henry, with a wave of his hand. “Perhaps tomorrow. You best be off. Remember what I said of Rachel.”
“She can’t be trusted.”
Henry nodded his assent. He had met Rachel on the same night that she had killed her own father, Arthur. While he admired her strength, given her controlled upbringing by an overbearing, violent parent, he feared that the ordeal may well have twisted her mind beyond repair. Having talked to her several times throughout the year, he had reached the conclusion that the woman was not capable of remorse or compassion, at all.
Watching the young tailor leave his home, Henry hoped that he done the right thing, by giving him a choice in the matter. Choice was something he believed everybody deserved, even if it led some of them down the wrong path.
Bad decisions make for great stories, whispered Maggie, in his mind. His past wife often drifted into his thoughts, more often than not supporting his decisions, much like when she was alive.
“Indeed, they do, dear,” Henry replied to himself out loud. He had made his own measure of bad decisions in his lifetime. Not only had he lived to tell the tales of those, but he had ultimately come out on top. Or so he liked to think.
Henry turned away from the front window, and started towards the kitchen, where he intended to start a brew of Earl Grey. At one time, it would have been him rushing to the Harris household to resolve the mess unfolding. He smiled knowing that the race would still go on, long after he had handed over the baton.
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