Chapter 98: Mama G vs. Marchie

Tuesday night, Sam called me, laughing hysterically for a change. It was good to hear her laugh, after all the shit of the last few days.

"Hey girl!" I said. “You sound great. What’s going on?"

Sam hooted. "Not getting so annoyed at Pauline so much today," she said. "She got sicced on Marchie."

“What the hell happened?” I couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. But I didn’t have to. Sam told me.

* * * * *

Mid-morning, the doorbell rang and Sam groaned. She wanted to be able to answer the door in her own house, but she knew Pauline would have a fit if she got up, so she just yelled. "PAULINE! DOOR!" With a little self-satisfied smile, she watched the older woman bustle to the door.

"You know," she said, "This is why I gave you the walkie-talkie," she said, as she passed the doorway to the sunroom.

"Sorry!" Sam said with a smile, not at all sorry.

Pauline rolled her eyes and opened the door. "Yes?" she said, shocked to find a foppy little man standing there. He couldn't have been more than 5'6" and he didn't weigh 120 pounds soaking wet. He had longish hair tied back in ponytail, and wire-rimmed glasses showcasing extraordinary gray-green eyes, and was almost pretty.

"I need to see Mr. Jon," he said loudly. He looked over Pauline's shoulder, and tried to push past her. Sam heard him and groaned. She did not want to deal with Marchie today. She started toward the door, but stopped by the staircase when she heard Pauline talking.

Pauline had stopped him with an arm across the doorway. "And just who might you be?" she asked.

Marcelli was taken aback. "Of course, I am Marcelli," he said, clearly insulted.

"How nice for you," Pauline said. "Can I help you with something?"

"I am Mr. Jon's landscape artist," he said haughtily, "and must see him right away."

"I'm afraid he's indisposed at the moment," Pauline said in an equally haughty tone, and Sam choked back a chuckle. She settled on the stairs to listen to the show.

"Mr. Jon will want to see me," Marcelli insisted.

"Oh? And why is that?"

He hesitated. "Because I have important news to share with him," he said in a conspiratorial tone.

Pauline noticed something off about Marcelli, but she couldn't put her finger on just what it was.

"That's wonderful," Pauline agreed, "but he really can't see you right now." Marcelli looked more disappointed than she thought he should have. "Can Sam help you?" Pauline asked.

He sighed. "No, only Mr. Jon can help me," he said dramatically.

God, Sam thought from her perch on the stairs, he sounded like a love-struck teenager. Pauline's eyes widened as she grasped what was going on.

"Oh," she said, lowering her voice. "You're having an affair with Jon then? I didn't think he was that way."

Sam bit her fist to keep the laughter at bay. Why didn't she ever think to say that to him?

Marcelli blushed. "He isn't!" he exclaimed a little too quickly. "I just have a question about the schedule," he stammered.

"Then why can't Sam help you?" Pauline asked, tilting her head to one side, which Sam knew by now meant that she was being sarcastic. Marcelli didn't have an answer for that, so Pauline just rolled on. "Sam's taking a nap right now, anyway, so why don't you leave the schedule details with me, and I'll have her go over them when she wakes up."

"Well, I don't have any… I just wanted…" Marcelli was still having trouble.

Pauline clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Oh, I know, it's a disappointment that Jon isn't here, but surely you have other famous clients you're working with? You must know they can't be accessible all the time."

"Well," Marcelli admitted, "I currently have nobody as famous as Mr. Jon. Richer, sure, but not more famous."

"This will be quite an accomplishment for you then when it's all done!" Pauline gushed. "I bet it will look gorgeous in the spring when everything starts to bloom, and his friends will all be impressed, and it's sure to be photographed."

"It won't be finished until early summer," Marcelli answered.

"Oh, that's too bad," Pauline said, pulling a disappointed face that Sam had memorized by now. "I'll bet he'd love to entertain next month, and show off your work."

"He would?"

"Well sure!" Pauline said. "He certainly can't entertain as much once the baby comes, and May is the perfect time to showcase your work! People are just gearing up for their summer gardens, and yours would be the first one ready. It would set the standard for the whole neighborhood."

Marcelli thought about that for a moment. "Ah, it is impossible," he said.

"Oh, that's right," Pauline said. "You have other clients that are more important."

"Mr. Jon is my most important client!" Marcelli insisted.

Pauline flapped a hand at him. "I'm sure you tell all your clients that."

"No, no!" Marcelli said. "Really. He is the most important and most visible client I have right now, and this is by far the largest project."

"And you only have four men working on it?" Pauline shook her head. "Wow." She sighed. "In any event, what is the message for Sam?"

Marcelli straightened to his full, unimposing height, and squared his shoulders. "Tell Mrs. Sam that she will have her spring garden."

"She will?" Pauline asked, her voice laced with wonder.

"She will," Marcelli confirmed. "I will bring a second crew, and this will be the most beautiful creation I have ever done."

"That's wonderful," Pauline beamed. "They will be so pleased. Bye, now," she said, and closed the door.

* * * * *
I was laughing so hard tears were steaming down my face. “That’s priceless.”

“Jon thought it was hysterical,” Sam answered.

“Which part?” I asked. “The part where Marchie backpedaled or when he pictured my mother asking Marchie if Jon was gay?”

“The whole thing.” Sam was chuckling too.

"So, how are you two getting along?"

"I taught her how to make sweet tea, and we’re still not seeing eye-to-eye, but it’s OK."

"Are you saying she's not quite the pain in the ass she was yesterday?"

"On hell no," Sam said, "but today she asked me what I wanted for lunch instead of telling me, so maybe she's learning."

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Or else she’s lulling you into a false sense of security before she *gasp* hugs you again!”

“Fuck you, Hath,” Sam said, laughing.

“No thanks, I prefer men,” I answered. We had a good chuckle before signing off. I’m so glad things are getting better.