Chapter 2
Myra and Annie—The Sisterhood
Pinewood, Virginia
M yra padded into the kitchen, where Charles was fixing a traditional English breakfast of back bacon, fried eggs, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, baked beans, and sausages.
“You are going to make me so fat!” Myra pouted.
Charles swept her into his arms. “The more to love you, love.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I skipped the blood pudding, as per your request.”
“Thank you, dear.” She reached for one of the mismatched mugs in the cupboard and placed it next to the barista coffee maker Charles had installed in the butler pantry.
“Fergus and Annie are on their way.”
As if on cue, Lady, their beautiful golden retriever, lifted her head, then stood in anticipation of their guests, especially Fergus, who always had treats in his pocket.
He said he learned to do that when he was a young constable during his first year at Scotland Yard.
It was a good device when they encountered unfriendly dogs.
He explained, “Ye toss one in the opposite direction, and if yer quick enough, you can make your way past ’em.
Although I’ve had many a pants caught in the jaws of a few canines, but nobody was ever really hurt. Only my ego.”
Lady was already at the door a couple of minutes before they heard the roar of Annie’s souped-up golf cart followed by the sound of gravel flying about. Lady let out a soft woof .
“Good watchdog,” Charles joked.
Annie, wearing her rhinestone cowgirl boots, was the first through the door.
“Good morning one and all!” she burst out. “How are my BFFs today?” She shimmied in Myra’s direction and blew a kiss to Charles.
Fergus was being held hostage at the entry by Lady and her pups. They weren’t going to let him into the room unless he greeted them accordingly. Of course, the dogs were polite and waited patiently, while Fergus dug into his pockets and presented them with a handful of crunchy morsels.
Myra grinned. “Between Charles making me fat, and you plumping up the dogs, we might have to move to a bigger place where we can fit our supersized behinds!”
Annie hooted at her lithe friend. “Ha! You couldn’t get fat if you strapped a side of beef onto your skinny thighs!”
It was true. All the joking about weight gain was simply banter. Myra and Annie were impeccably fit for “women of a certain age,” meaning that although they weren’t running through the streets of New York wearing stiletto pumps, they were still agile and buff enough to scale a fence if necessary.
Charles handed a spatula and an apron to Fergus. “You oversee the bacon in the pan, and I’ll manage the bacon on Myra’s fanny.” He gave her an affectionate pat on her behind.
“It’s a good thing I have a sense of humor.” Myra laughed, rolling her eyes.
Annie helped herself to another mismatched mug and fixed a coffee for herself and one for Fergus. “Charles, care for a cuppa?”
“ Cuppa is for tea. Coffee is for coffee. You yanks.” He shook his head and smirked.
“Pardon me,” Annie said, bowing. “Care for a coffee?”
“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” Charles winked.
Annie brought the coffee to the two men shuffling back and forth in front of the stove and went back to fix her own.
“So, Myra, what did you think of my idea about the Toys for Tots event?”
Annie and Myra served on the boards of several charities; for some, they asked for anonymity, and were only known to the executive directors.
Over the years, both women of extreme wealth were constantly in the crosshairs of grifters and questionable organizations.
They would make their donations privately and work behind the scenes.
It was fitting, since their “other lives” functioned in the shadows.
“I think it’s lovely they are honoring Camille this year,” Myra said.
Camille was an old chum of Annie’s and owned a townhouse a few doors down from Annie’s place in Manhattan.
“That was a terrible ordeal they went through with their son.” Myra was referring to an incident that involved a twenty-year-old kidnapping.
When Camille’s son J.R. was in college, he cleverly planned and carried out his own abduction.
He owed a huge chunk of money to some extremely dangerous people, and he believed it was his only way out.
The scheme worked. For almost two decades.
It was a twist of fate that uncovered his long-hidden ploy and put the family into a tailspin.
“Things have greatly improved. J.R. dumped his crafty, greedy wife and cleaned up his act. He works with his father and has a new girlfriend. Camille said everyone is in a particularly good place now, except for his golf game,” she said, chuckling.
“That’s wonderful. Not the golf thing.” Myra smiled. “Let’s go over the plans after we feast on Charles’s handiwork.”
“Oi! What about me?” Fergus protested. “Do I not deserve some credit?”
“Don’t be such a crybaby,” Annie teased. “You’re a good sort, Fergus.”
“I suppose that’s something, innit?” he said to the utensil in his hand.
Lady’s head moved in sync with the platters as they were carried to the table. Fergus leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, love. I’ll be sure to save some for you.”
“Oh, how you spoil them!” Myra faked a scolding.
“Sometimes I feel as if they’re the only friends I have in the room,” Fergus kidded.
“They’re the only friends you have,” Charles delivered a witty barb.
“Now that hurts, mate,” he said, and frowned. “Can I still call you mate ?”
“’Til the cows come home.” Charles slapped his pal on the back.
The four friends gathered around the table, said grace, and passed the lavish breakfast items. “Charles, you are going to make all of us fat!” Annie said, then dug into a wad of bacon.
“I told him the same thing just before you got here.” Myra duplicated Annie’s grab for the crispy slices.
“Not me.” Fergus rubbed his belly. “I still run every day.”
“Yeah, he runs from the kitchen to the lounge chair,” Annie ribbed.
“Come on, love. Can’t a man get a little break?”
She patted his stomach. “You’re still in enough tip-top shape for me.”
Charles steered the conversation to the reason for their gathering today. “Tell us, what do you women have planned?” He raised an eyebrow. The answer could be almost anything.
“We shall be working on the logistics to deliver a trailer of toys for Camille’s event.”
“Sounds like a lovely idea.” Fergus slid two more eggs onto his plate.
“There is a grand holiday party at the Park Hyatt,” Annie began. “They’re honoring Camille this year, and we want to help her cause. They will be inviting a hundred children from some of the local orphanages. They’ll get to meet Santa and get a gift. Plus, a good meal.”
“Brilliant!” Charles said. “How can we help?” He pointed his fork at Fergus, then himself.
“Right now, we are in the planning stages, but you can be sure we’ll find something for you to do.” Annie smirked.
“We thought about posting a call to action on social media, but expecting people to send gifts is too complicated.”
“Instead, we suggested when people have a holiday party, they ask people to bring an unwrapped gift. We’ll provide them with the nearest drop-off point,” Myra added.
“Lovely.” Fergus dunked his toast in the gooey yolk.
“Myra and I are going to order toys from the manufacturers, have them delivered here, and then get Kathryn to drive the truck to a place outside of the city. We’ll get help transferring the toys into smaller vehicles so they can navigate the gridlock.”
“Right. The city can be a massive parking lot this time of year,” Charles said.
Annie turned to Myra. “Kathryn is on board, correct?”
“Yes. She is doing a run to New Mexico and plans to be back the day before Thanksgiving. We should have most of the toys by then. They need to be at the hotel by December nineteenth, so we have some time. It will take her about six hours to get to the transfer station in New Jersey. After that, she said she was going to take the rest of the year off.”
“As if!” Annie howled.
“I know. Every holiday is difficult, but we’re here for each other. I suggested she spend the holidays with us in New York,” Myra said.
“It will be a nice change of pace.”
Charles looked over the rim of his coffee mug. “How long are we planning on staying?”
“Well”—Annie eyed Myra for support—“I was thinking we go up for a weekend for Camille’s event. It’s on a Saturday. Come home Monday. We can take the Gulfstream to Teterboro Airport. It will take thirty minutes to get to the townhouse from there.”
“Without traffic,” Fergus reminded her.
“We could take a helicopter,” Annie suggested. “That would take ten minutes.”
Myra gripped the edge of the table. “You know how I feel about those whirligigs.”
“It’s probably safer than the traffic that time of year,” Charles added.
“Oh, I don’t know, Annie. Do we have to decide right now?”
“Of course not. Just suggesting a way to eliminate most of the traffic buildup going into the city and minimize the gridlock.”
Charles patted Myra’s white knuckles. “Steady on, love. We’ll get it sorted. It could be grand seeing the city lit up from above.” His words were soothing, but not necessarily convincing.
“What about the train? It will bring us to Penn Station.”
Annie pursed her lips. “We shall consider it.”
“Thank you.” Myra exhaled the long breath she had been holding.
Annie continued, “We will spend Christmas here, and then go back to celebrate New Year’s Eve. We can go to the ballet.”
“You can’t help yourself when it comes to The Nutcracker , can you?” Fergus teased.
“And the fireworks in Central Park!” Annie squealed.
“If the word fun is involved, there is no question where we will be singing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’”
Fergus raised his mug in a toast.
“Excellent! Then it’s settled! It’s been a long time since we had a party in New York!” Annie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “We’ll invite the Sisters. I’m sure most of them have plans, but in case someone doesn’t, they shall have plans with us!”
“Terrific!” Myra smiled. “It will be nice to have us together for holiday festivities.” She looked at Charles’s dubious expression.
“Does this mean I have to brush up on a few more reci pes?”
The three others looked at one another and burst out laughing. “What do you think, Charles?” Annie grinned.
“It will be bloody good to shop at Eataly and the Tin Building,” Charles mused.
“Don’t forget about the Union Square Greenmarket,” Myra reminded him.
“Now that is what I call an amusement park for cooks!” Charles leaned into his chair, placed his hands behind his bald head, and shut his eyes. “Some people dream of a white Christmas; I dream about fresh rutabaga.”
The laughs and cackling continued for another half hour until Myra and Annie decided to get to work and put their plans on paper.
Fergus helped with the cleanup duty, while Myra and Annie retreated to the atrium and put pens to pads and began making lists for the toys and the parties, as there would be much entertaining going on.