Mitchell Parker's Anniversary Gift



  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Mitchell Parker’s Anniversary Gift

  Dearest Reader

  Also By Jane Oldaker

  About the author

  An Excerpt from Nothing Ventured

  Copyright

  Mitchell Parker’s Anniversary Gift

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-0-9881533-4-9

  Mitchell Parker’s Anniversary Gift is an Arlo the Barncat publication which is exactly the same as self-publishing.

  To Jamie

  Author’s Note:

  In honour of his fortieth wedding anniversary , Mitchell Parker has acquired what is possibly the greatest anniversary present in history which he intended to unveil at the quiet but lavish evening he and Eileen had planned at their favourite hotel. Unfortunately the occasion isn't going as planned and he finds himself observing a table across the dining room where Molly Malone, the daughter of one of his oldest friends is spending the evening with her companion Paul Farnsworth. As he watches the young couple and reflects on the last forty years, Mitchell Parker realizes he has another gift to offer in celebration.

  Mitchell Parker is a character from my novel Nothing Ventured. His role was just a cameo appearance; Molly sees him in the hotel dining room and flees in the hope that he won't see her there and report to her father, Patrick Malone.

  This short story gives Mitchell some depth, with a story of his own, and indirectly a larger role in Molly's relationship with Paul.

  Mitchell Parker’s Anniversary Gift

  On the night of the big storm, Mitchell Parker spotted Molly Malone from across the dining room at the Royal Toronto while celebrating his and Eileen’s fortieth wedding anniversary. The Royal Toronto was their favourite haunt and they had celebrated many occasions there many times in the past and were always there on their anniversary. They often lingered over drinks and dinner and wine, oftentimes with dear friends, before retiring to their suite to be alone. It was an elaborate festivity that made them both feel as though they were on their honeymoon once again.

  Having wed in winter, they waited for the nice weather to return before going to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon. Actually they stayed at a small inn in Niagara-on-the-Lake. At least it was much smaller than the Royal Toronto, but beautifully appointed and the dining room had done sterling service. They drove down to see the falls, not quite a half an hour away and dutifully completed all the obligatory tourist tasks, admiring the river, the gorge, the whirlpool and of course the falls themselves. He smiled to himself recalling the good humour with which Eileen accompanied him on a tour of the hydro-electric plant. He had known full well it wasn’t really her thing. He remembered with amusement their sense of adventure at crossing the border into the United States on an afternoon’s reconnaissance mission to New York.. It was among the first of so many things they discovered together in forty years. He couldn’t believe how swiftly the time passed.

  In honour of having achieved the auspicious milestone of forty years of marriage, Mitchell wore his tuxedo. He still cut a respectably fine figure in it even if he did say so himself. Eileen chose a dove grey gown that brought out her eyes and was subtle enough to flatter, but not overwhelm her delicate features. He could stare into those eyes all evening long and as far as Mitchell Parker was concerned, Eileen looked just the same as she did the day they met.

  Looking across the dining room he noted that Molly was plainly having a wonderful time. His pleasure at her happiness was diminished somewhat by the thought of the seemingly irreparable rift that existed between her and her father, Patrick Malone, who was one of Mitchell’s oldest friends. He digested the fact that she was apparently accompanied by Paul Farnsworth and nodded approvingly to himself about the vast improvement her taste in male companions had taken. He was quite sure he had met Paul’s father along the way. Of course, he met a lot of people during the course of a long career on Bay Street. He glanced thoughtfully at the empty chair beside him before resuming his discreet observation of the table at which Molly sat.

  Seeing his old friend’s daughter at the Royal Toronto along with her companion made him feel not just as if he and Eileen were on their honeymoon again, it catapulted him even further back in time to when they were courting. They were captivated by one another, but uncertain about whether or not they would have a future together. He remembered the moment when he proposed. His mouth was so dry he could barely speak and his hands shook so badly he fumbled the ring in its box out of his inside jacket pocket. He stowed the long slim box in the same location just over forty years later, however, it was unlikely that he would fumble the box he had now.

  Molly was a beautiful young woman, slender with red hair, green eyes and delicate features. Mitchell had noticed before, from a strictly avuncular perspective, that like Eileen, her smile lit up a room. In Mitchell’s estimation, she had had a bit of a rough go a couple of years earlier when caught between a rock and a hard place because of her father’s and her fiancé’s expectations. Andrew, the fiancé, was a Grade A dick. Of course Mitchell would never describe him just that way in Eileen’s presence.

  It was widely held that Andrew was shopping for a wife who had significant social standing and who would make a good accessory to his own ambitions. Any objectives his wife might have of her own would therefore come second to his, invisible, so as not to show him up and certainly not be disruptive to his aims in any way whatsoever.

  Molly’s father Patrick had not registered the less than desirable facets of Andrew’s personality and was disappointed that Molly had terminated the engagement. He was possibly even more disappointed that Molly was determined to follow a career path other than the one he himself had envisioned for her. As a result, Patrick had lashed out in anger at his daughter. Molly had little choice but to stand her ground and had apparently packed her things and struck out on her own.

  It really wasn’t possible to talk Patrick out of the position he had taken and Mitchell knew better than to try. The effort would be just as likely to produce a result that was completely opposite to one’s intentions as it would be to persuade Patrick of anything. Over time, Mitchell fully expected Patrick would figure out for himself that Molly was well shot of Andrew and quite capable of running her own life.

  Molly and her father were so alike; intelligent, charming, industrious and almost obsessively focussed on achievement and success. Patrick had such high hopes for Molly and was so certain her choices would cause her to fail. The time they spent apart was time they wasted. The thought of it twisted Mitchell Parker’s gut.

  He remembered when he and Patrick were both young men full of high hopes and piss and vinegar all in equal measure. Patrick was as stubborn and resolute then as he was now. His determination had served him well in his career and he had chalked up an impressive string of successful ventures. Intelligence and a fundamentally good character never deserted him altogether, but, for those close to him, the delay for his finer qualities to shine through was sometimes a protracted and nerve-wracking interval. Mitchell propped his elbow on the starched-linen covered table and supported his chin on the heel of his palm, training h
is observation over the top of his knuckles. He realized all of a sudden that he could remember when Molly was born. Molly and his own daughter were close in age and Mitchell Parker remembered well that Patrick’s pride and excitement at the arrival of his daughter evenly matched his own. He took his chin off his elbow and gave the table a light slap of frustration. Did Patrick not understand that time was precious and finite? He detested himself for doubting his old friend.

  The establishment of the Royal Toronto had very courteously provided his and Eileen’s usual table in the corner of the dining room. It was quiet and a little dark. The impeccable service was expertly unobtrusive and prompt. It always seemed like they were in a world of their own. Mitchell Parker reflected that every moment with Eileen for the last forty years had been that way; as if time stood still and everything else in the world ceased to exist when they were together. He fingered the long slender jewellery box in the inside pocket of his jacket. The perfect gift for the occasion he thought, glancing at the chair. His feet did a little dance of impatience under the table; something for which Eileen had reproved him countless times over the last forty years.

  He saw the bracelet in a store window while walking down the street one day six months before their anniversary. A closer look through the window told him it was made for Eileen and he walked into the store and bought it on the spot. It cost a pretty penny, but he hadn’t even flinched. It was a pretty present for a pretty lady – platinum set with diamonds in a soft, elegant Edwardian design. He smiled smugly to himself many times since, so certain was he that Eileen would love it. He dropped broad hints to the effect that he had purchased the greatest anniversary gift in history. He looked forward to the expression on her face when she opened it and he knew Eileen was looking forward to their anniversary as much as he was.

  Glancing over at Molly and Paul’s table once more, Mitchell thought again how much they reminded him of himself and Eileen forty years ago - young, carefree, the world at their feet. He watched Molly glance around the room as she sipped at her drink and saw Paul look at Molly with a split-second’s unguarded passion.

  Howie Benton arrived at their table looking decidedly unsteady. Mitchell smiled ruefully to himself. Howie was blue-eyed and fair-haired, with the sort of boyish, angelic face that ages well, acquiring handsome definition with the passage of time. Eileen had always said that Howie had future lady killer written all over him.

  Another one with father issues he thought. Howie’s father Sid was well-known for his cavalier treatment of his son as well as for being generally dissatisfied, particularly where Howie was concerned. Another waste of time, Mitchell thought, the needless harm that passes from one generation to the next through callous treatment, biased expectation and relentless, petty ego gratification at the expense of one’s offspring. Mitchell thought Howie expended more effort compensating for the effects of his father’s upbringing than he did building his career. Actually, compensating for the effects of his father’s upbringing appeared to be his career. Howie often seemed unsure of himself, even when his ideas were bang on the money. In fact his ideas were frequently out in front of the pack but his hesitation frequently undermined his credibility. What a load of extra work to do, Mitchell thought to himself. Raise the expectations sky-high and lower the prospective ceiling by a country mile. Howie’s father soundly deserved a swift kick in the pants as his mother used to say.

  His next glance at the empty chair was somewhat wistful. To distract himself from it he looked toward Molly and her companions once more. Howie had seated himself with Molly and Paul and was gesticulating dramatically, clearly three parts gone; a good fellow pissing away another evening’s hours of a life not quite as well-spent as it should have been. Mitchell indulged himself in further mental condemnation of Howie’s father.

  He thought of his own two children and the hours spent with Eileen discussing the hopes and dreams they had for their offspring and more importantly, what strategies would help them make their hopes and dreams a reality. Cultivate their abilities; help them discover their interests, above all, make them believe in themselves and hope that a quiet, well-founded confidence would give them their wings. It was Eileen’s wisdom in truth, but he had seen the merits of it and had done his part to implement it and had been as pleased and gratified as she at the fruits that it bore. It was one of the greatest rewards of their life together.

  Glancing at the chair he found himself hungering for her company and hoping that it would not be too long. His fingers sought out the gift box in his pocket.

  In retrospect it was such a simple set of principles. The damage and unnecessary limitations inflicted by parents on their offspring troubled and frustrated him ever more deeply with the passage of time. Life was too goddamn short. His brows suddenly creased sharply with a flash of bitterness and Mitchell lifted his glass to refresh himself with a sip.

  His and Eileen’s children were grown now with families of their own. They clamored to join the anniversary celebration, but he had demurred. The occasion belonged to him and Eileen alone. There would be plenty of other opportunities for celebration with children and grandchildren.

  He observed that Howie had put a protective arm around Molly and was holding the other hand out in Paul’s direction as if pushing him back. Howie was speaking animatedly and he squeezed Molly’s elbow a couple of times. Molly and Paul looked mildly amused by Howie’s behaviour; the three of them obviously pals. Howie continued to speak and Paul Farnsworth sat up a little and Molly suddenly looked at him with a slightly wary glance. Mitchell Parker’s brows creased a little in puzzlement. For the first time since he sat down, he was momentarily distracted from the empty chair. Suddenly it dawned on him. It had to be the storm. Paul Farnsworth lived in Uxbridge, and Mitchell was sure Eileen had said something to the effect that Molly had relocated out in that general direction as well. The storm, said to be the worst in at least five years, was going to create mayhem on the roads. It would be foolish to travel he realized. Remembering the way the wind picked up the snowflakes and twirled them crazily while he walked the two blocks from his and Eileen’s condominium to the hotel, recalling now that the wind actually hurled them at him. He hadn’t really noticed at the time because the anniversary celebration had been uppermost in his mind. The bluish tint the storm gave to the night was another thing he hadn’t really noticed at the time. He looked around the crowded room, the hotel would be booked solid he knew. With no room at the inn, so to speak, Paul and Molly would be forced to attempt the drive home. Looking at the chair he reached into his inside pocket and stroked the box thoughtfully yet again. Observing the conversation at Molly’s table he was sure there wasn’t much time to think it over. Looking at the empty chair with regret he made his decision and pushed his chair back. He left the dining room and sought out the concierge.

  Mitchell Parker arranged with the concierge to give up the suite he’d rented on his anniversary every year for the past forty years. He made it a condition that the suite was not to be made available to anyone other than Paul Farnsworth and his guest until after such time as they might have left the hotel without seeking accommodation. Given the weather, Mitchell Parker was almost certain that there was no way that would happen, but if it did, the suite would then be a port in the storm for some other stranded traveller.

  It would not do for Paul and Molly to be aware of his hand in their affairs so he directed the concierge to charge Paul the usual fees for the room, and then donate Mitchell’s refund to the Heart and Stroke Foundation. In the event the hotel did not rent the suite, then the hotel could keep the room fees Parker had paid. A lavish gratuity ensured the matter would be looked after with both diligence and discretion. Not that Mitchell doubted for a minute that it would be, he had a long-standing relationship with that particular concierge.

  Mitchell Parker returned to the dining room and fingered the box in his pocket one last time while looking
sadly at the empty chair. He swallowed the last of his drink, now mostly melted ice, and took out his wallet to leave a tip for the waiter. Looking over at Molly Malone’s table he noted that Paul Farnsworth had departed the dining room. Parker hoped he was on an errand to find accommodation for the night. Sensing that Molly had looked his way, Mitchell focussed his eyes firmly on his empty glass for several moments looking up again just in time to see Molly hurriedly following Howie Benton into a service area off the dining room. Mitchell was aware that Howie had well-travelled escape routes in various Toronto haunts; a necessity for escaping the eyes of both his father and those that would report his whereabouts to his father. Chuckling to himself Mitchell thought Molly could count herself lucky to be in the company of one so practiced and adroit in the art of escaping from view at the drop of a hat.

  It was time to relocate the anniversary celebration to the Parker condominium. Purchased only a few years earlier so he and Eileen could take it a little easier and have easy access to all the things they liked to do in the city, it was within easy walking distance of the Royal Toronto. Because of the storm, Parker fully expected the five-minute walk to take fifteen minutes. He put on his coat, scarf and hat and left the dining room without so much as a final glance at the empty chair.

  Hunching his shoulders against the wind as he walked home in the storm, Mitchell Parker reflected that his daughter Jessica would enjoy the bracelet almost as much as her mother Eileen would have if she had lived to see her fortieth anniversary. The day would come when Jessica could gift it to her daughter Anna, who would undoubtedly treasure her grandmother’s last anniversary present. In the meantime, he thought, perhaps he had found a more fitting gift after all.

  Dearest Reader,

  If you enjoyed this story please consider giving it a rating or review where you downloaded it or perhaps on Goodreads. A few brief words stating why you liked it would suffice. Ratings and reviews are critical to a new author trying to become established. Regardless of your decision, I hope you enjoyed my story!

  Cheers,

  Jane Oldaker