Topic: An Account of the Family Granger

OH Granger

Date: 2010-11-19 15:34 EST
"The following pages contain the little which is known concerning a family of no social importance, and will consequently be of interest only to those connected with it. For such they are written, and to such addressed, without any apology for their publication." — George William Marshall, "Collections for a Genealogical Account of the family of Comberbach", 1866



My family, the Grangers of Rhy'Din, is an old family with their sticky fingers in many pies, though mostly we deal in cloth and all of its associated industries " growing, dyeing, weaving, shipping, and yes, even selling.

Approximately four hundred years ago, my ancestor, Thaddeus Granger and his wife Beryl, were sheep farmers. They were blessed with four children " three sons, Raleigh, Enoch and Larkin; and a daughter, Myrtle. Each of Thaddeus's children were educated as well as he and Beryl could afford, for Thaddeus had high ambitions and great plans for these children.

Upon Thaddeus's death, Raleigh took over the care and keeping of the family sheep farm, eventually expanding upon the extant estate by adding more land acreages. Eventually, the Granger Estate would produce not only the highest quality of wool Rhy'Din had ever seen, but hemp fibers, cotton, and through a twist of fate and a beautiful stand of mulberry trees, silk.

Enoch learned the art of spinning and weaving, and with his share of the inheritance, bought up acres and acres of riverfront land. Upon this land, he built factories and mills to create cloth from the raw materials sent from Raleigh's farms. This cloth was sold to tailors and sail makers and drapers, further imprinting the name Granger into the collective consciousness of Rhy'Din.

Larkin, taking his share of his father's money, bought up all the land Enoch didn't, and built processing and dyeing plants, along with farms that grew the indigo, woad, and other natural dyes he used in his processes. After Raleigh grew the wool, and Enoch spun it and wove it, Larkin dyed it into the beautiful kaleidoscope of colors that has grown to be associated with Granger textiles.

Not to be outdone by her brothers, Myrtle also got involved with the family business. With her share of the inheritance, she bought up all the carts and wagons and ships she could and used these to transport her brothers' cloth to the tailors and sail makers and drapers in the city. She even somehow managed to take over the business of shipping out those finished clothes and sails and upholsteries to the retail stores that would be the ultimate end of Raleigh's beginning.

Or course, the Granger children married and had children of their own, thus ensuring that the family business, now known as the GrangerGuild Conglomerate, would never go under. Though, with this current crop of Grangers and our aversion to working in the family business or really even having anything to do with it, there always stands the chance that things will go sideways.

Especially if my father, Oliver Hudson Granger II, continues making bad business choices as has been his wont as of late. But that story is for another day.

OH Granger

Date: 2010-11-21 17:31 EST
May, 2004...

"Oliver, what do you think you are doing?"

I whirled around, the file I had been reading still clutched in my hand. My heart was racing. I'd been caught in the act of reading through my father's personal business papers. Even as a small child, I had been forbidden from entering his office " even if he was present. I dropped the file quickly onto the surface of the walnut banker's desk that had been in the family since Larkin Granger bought his first dyeing plant. But I didn't act quickly enough " Father had seen me, had caught me red-handed. "I uh...I was looking for my bank book," I said lamely, knowing that he'd see through my ruse as if it were a pane of glass.

Father " or Junior as everyone called him " strode into the room, as imposing a figure I'd ever seen. He was tall and barrel chested with thick limbs that despite his 60-plus years were still powerful. He intimidated me, made me feel like a small, helpless child. I backed up as he approached me until I felt the edge of the desk pressing into the backs of my thighs. Staring me down, his eyes as blue as the vault of the sky during a hot July afternoon, he reached for the file I'd dropped and skimmed it. Then he stared at me again before shooing me out of his way.

I scrambled around the desk, putting its solid and reassuring presence between him and I. "Sit down," he said curtly as he took his own seat behind the desk. I sunk slowly into a high-backed chair and tried not to grip the arms so tightly that my knuckles stood out in high relief. He continued to stare at me for what could have been a century, but what was probably only five minutes. "Why would your bank book be in here, Oliver?" he asked after that long, horribly uncomfortable silence.

"I thought perhaps Marta picked it up, mistaking it for yours," I said, refusing to meet his eyes, looking at the scattering of papers that I had strewn across the surface of Father's desk. I could hear him breathing in the silence that followed my explanation and I sneaked a quick look at his face. His cheeks were flushed red with anger, his over-large nose florid, eyes narrowed, lantern jaw clenched. He looked like an angry bull to me and once more served as a painful reminder that I had inherited my mother's delicate beauty and fine bone structure. Even our hands were different " mine were long-fingered, facile and dexterous, the hands of an artist; Father's hands were square, large, blunt-fingered, the hands of a working man.

"You thought, did you?" he said with a sneer. "And you were so shocked at the foreign feeling of thinking that you, what? Forgot where you were" Forgot whose realm this is" Forgot who feeds and clothes you?"

I snapped my eyes up at him, anger curdling in my belly. I knew that Father did not like me, was not proud of me. But this was the first time he had ever insulted me to my face. And then I realized why. The files I'd been reading through showed evidence of a series of shady deals and questionable expenditures that included a secret house, diamond jewelery, and expensive clothing " all concrete proof of Father's mistresses. I was the only other person who knew about it all.

I sat up straighter in my chair then, thinking I'd finally figured out a way to get Father off my back and stop messing about in my life. "No, Father. I knew exactly where I am. And I know exactly what I read in those," I said with a nod to the files on the desk.

Father laughed, a bitter, mocking sound. "And what, pray tell, did you read in those, Oliver" What has your six years of college taught you? Hmm?"

"You're stealing from the Conglomerate to pay for your mistresses," I replied, trying to remain confident and brave, while inside I was quaking with fear. My words hit home, though; Father's face shut down, all trace of any emotions just disappeared in the blink of an eye. There was only the tiny tick of the muscles at the corner of his left eye that belied his sudden nervousness.

Then he leaned forward, his face transforming into a savage rictus of rage. "You will keep your useless mouth shut, Oliver," he hissed in a vicious whisper. "You will repeat nothing of this to anyone. Do I make myself clear?"

I felt a flood of fear at his expression, the amount of anger that tainted his words and his actions. I suddenly feared for my life. If Mother found out, or Lola or the cousins or my uncles and aunts....If anyone found out, Father would be ruined. His money, our home and cars " everything " would all be gone in an instant and Father would be lucky if he stayed out of jail. I nodded woodenly and said in an unsteady voice, "Yes, Father. I understand."

"Good," he said and sat back. He studied my face for a moment longer and then bade me leave. I sprang out of my chair and practically ran for the door, not pausing to look back. If I had, I would have seen Father reaching for the phone that sat on his desk. If I had paused at all, I might have caught a hushed conversation with his private attorney concerning his last will and testament.

OH Granger

Date: 2010-12-08 14:55 EST
June, 2010...

There was only a week left in my college career. Only seven days separating me from the single most important decision of my life. I thought suddenly of a poem I'd heard somewhere, something about two roads diverging in a wood. The poet took the one less travelled and how that had made the difference ever since. It was an insipid little rhyme " of course the path you choose makes a difference! But saying the less travelled road is better was just...ludicrous. There are fewer people on the road less travelled, fewer people to help out if you've got a flat tyre or an overheated radiator. It was just silly. Me, I'd take the road with guaranteed service any day.

Thankfully, I was spared from further ruminations on roads and paths and choices by a rather sharp knock on the door of my dormitory room. I automatically glanced at the clock that sat on my desk. It was 6:15 on a Thursday evening. I smiled; maybe it was Lola come to visit her big brother. Maybe it was Correy come to beg me to take him to a frat party. I was prepared for any of myriad Granger faces to greet me once I opened the door. I was not, however, prepared for what in fact awaited me.

"So, which Granger is behind door number one?" I called out with a grin as I pulled open the door and looked out into the hallway. Instead of a cousin or a sister, I was met with a rather beautiful woman who was smiling uncertainly back at me. She was tall and dark haired with exotic, almond-shaped eyes the colour of caramel. I knew her instantly, if only from having seen her picture in the paper a hundred times since she took office. "Minister O'Rourke?" I managed.

She frowned softly, tiny creases wrinkling her brow. "Ex-Minister O'Rourke," she corrected. "Now I'm just Private Citizen O'Rourke." She took a deep breath and her expression changed like quick-silver. It went from hesitantly friendly, to slightly annoyed, to coolly professional in the span of about three seconds. "Are you Oliver Hudson Granger, III?" she asked in a strangely formal tone.

"Yes. I'm him. How can I help?" I asked. "Would you like to come in" I can make some coffee if you'd like." Despite an uncomfortably nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach " why was the city's most important and highest ranking attorney at my door" - my manners and breeding kicked in, forcing me to be polite and courteous. Mother " God rest her soul " would have been proud.

Ms O'Rourke shook her head and said, "No, thank you." She then produced a manilla envelope from behind her back. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before handing it to me. "I'm....I'm sorry, Oliver," she said softly, sadly, and then turned away, long legs quickly eating up the distance between my door and the dorm's exit. She pushed outside without looking back and disappeared into the summer evening. I stood on the threshold of my room for a moment, watching her leave and then looked at the envelope in my hands. On the front was an address sticker, which read "R. O'Rourke, Esq. Zen Gardens Building, WestEnd, Rhy'Din". My name and address were written below it in a flowing, feminine hand. The nervousness in the pit of my stomach slowly cooled into cold, hard fear.

I stepped back into my room and carried the envelope over to my bed. Sitting " perching, really " on the edge of it, I slid my finger under the flap and dragged out a thin sheaf of papers. I glanced at the top one, finding it to be a typed letter on Ms O'Rourke's stationery. I read it carefully, the fear in my stomach becoming nausea as I read farther.

Mr Granger:

It is my duty as private attorney for your father, Oliver Hudson Granger, Jr, to inform you that he has stripped you of any and all property, monies, stocks, bonds, and favors you might have inherited from him. Your position with GrangerGuild Conglomerate, which you would have taken upon graduating from college with a doctorate in International Finance, has been rescinded. You are no longer welcome at Mr. Granger's home and are forbidden from contacting him in any way, including but not limited to telephone, postal mail, electronic mail, and face-to-face contact.

Mr Granger has decided not to freeze your accounts, so you will have access to your savings and checking accounts for as long as you have money in them. Your monthly stipend, however, has been revoked and you will receive no further funds from your father or GrangerGuild Conglomerate.

If you have further need of me, please contact my office during regular working hours.

Sincerely,

Riley O'Rourke,

I slid off the bed to my knees, Ms O'Rourke's letter falling away from my stiff, numb fingers. The rest of the papers turned out to be copies of documents filed with Rhy'Din City Court, officially and formally severing my relationship with my family and with my family's business. I let these papers, too, fall to the floor. I was numb, hollow inside. I felt disconnected from reality, as if I were a ghost just floating about, untethered from the world.

I knew Junior hated me, especially after that confrontation we'd had in his study six years ago. But I had no idea his hatred and distrust ran this deeply. Strangely enough, my first thoughts were not for my future, but were for my baby sister instead. What would she do without me" Lola was so...good, so strongly adverse to any sort of conflict, so perfectly, sweetly, innocently naive. This would destroy her. I wondered if she knew already.

What the hell had happened" That confrontation over Junior's embezzlement had happened six years ago, for God's sake! Surely this couldn't be because of that. Something else must have happened recently. Something horrible and serious. I picked up the papers again, this time scanning them very carefully. There was no mention of being forbidden from contacting any family other than Junior. Thank God, I could still see and talk to Lola...and Caroline.

Caroline! I seized upon my cousin like the oasis of calm in the centre of a maelstrom that she was. I leapt up from the floor and dashed over to my desk where my phone was sitting. Jabbing the buttons, I dialled Caroline's number quickly. "Please pick up, please pick up!" I whispered while waiting to hear Caroline's voice.

OH Granger

Date: 2010-12-11 19:21 EST
June, 2010...

I was skipping my graduation ceremony to meet with Caroline. It seemed sort of moot to attend the ceremony; I wouldn't be using the degree now. Sitting on the edge of the fountain that stood in the middle of the Marketplace, watching children play, I realised that I'd wasted the past twelve years of my life, in pursuit of something someone else had wanted for me. I could have been painting the entire time and making a name for myself in the art circles of the city. Bitter" Yes. A little. As soon as I could discover Junior's motivations for cutting me off and exorcising me from his life, I'd be quit of the entire situation. I would finally have the opportunity to do what I wanted with my life.

Sitting cross-legged beside me on the edge of the fountain, Caroline was discreetly watching me from the corner of her eye. She was worried about me - what else was new, Caroline worried about everyone - and despite the fact that I'm older than her, she had a tendency to want to look after me the way she looked after the rest of the family. Her shoulder nudged mine gently. "Want to talk about it?"

Caroline's gentle words drew me out of my dark thoughts and I sighed. "You know what happened, right?" I was mostly certain that I'd done nothing to force Junior's hand, but wanted to tread lightly nonetheless.

"I know that Junior's had one of his hissy fits and ripped into Humph about it," she shrugged lightly. "Swear to the gods, if he gives Humph another ulcer, I'll tear him a new one just for the hell of it." Her head tilted as she looked over at me. "What I don't know is why. Do you?"

I nodded reluctantly and then turned away, giving Caroline a perfect view of my hawkish profile. "Six years ago, I stumbled across something in Junior's private study at the house." I paused for a second, my long, elegant hands busy with the hem of my polo shirt. "He'd been embezzling funds from the Guild to pay for his mistresses. He's got a house where they live, he buys their food and clothing, expensive jewellery, cars, horses..." I trailed off and those elegant hands formed into the fists that had captured many light heavyweight boxing championships in the fifteen or so years since I first started boxing.

Caroline's expression turned into one of thunderous disapproval. "That rat bastard," she hissed between her teeth. She didn't care about the money, but Ollie and Lola's mother had always been kind to her. That woman did not deserve to be married to scum like Junior. "He caught you looking, didn't he?"

"Red-handed, as it were." I turned back to face Caro, my eyes sad now. "We had words. He...he threatened me. I swore I wouldn't tell anyone. And then Mum died, and he just stopped pretending that he liked me or approved of what I wanted to do with my life."

Her frown relaxed from the fury she had been displaying to gentle concern for me as I looked at her. "Why not go to Humph?" she suggested quietly. "Junior's got no right to do this to you, Ollie; he's the one in the wrong, not you." Her arm sneaked about my shoulders.

"Humphrey would have sacked him. Mum and Lola would have been disgraced. Junior would have killed me, quite literally, I'm afraid." I shrugged lightly, stupidly grateful for Caroline's quiet presence and support. "Nothing happened for the next six years, and then yesterday, Riley O'Rourke showed up at my door."

The name was vaguely familiar to Caroline, though she hadn't ever lived outside of the Rhy'Din city. But it had come up in a couple of conversations she'd overheard while chauffeuring her grandfather around ...."As in the Boston O'Rourkes?" she queried in surprise. "She's in Rhy'Din?" Her brows made a creditable attempt to become one with her hairline. "What did she want?"

"She was the Minister of Justice, Caroline," I said patiently. Apparently Caroline had missed out on quite a lot of the gossip and news that was sweeping the city.

"She was" Oh, yeah, she was. I really have to start paying closer attention to the back of the Merc." She chuckled faintly, nudging my shoulder with her own again. "Sorry. Do go on."

"Junior's secured her services now that she's no longer a public official. She served me with papers, saying that Junior's cut me off and rescinded the position in the Guild."

No amount of description could adequately put into words the shock, horror, and blazing fury that quite suddenly exploded out of Caroline, pressed tightly into one hissed word. "What"!"

Around us, the heads of the closest shoppers whipped towards us with distrust and worry in their eyes. I reached for Caroline's hands, gripping them and trying to get her to calm down a bit. It was all I needed - to have a Watchman come and arrest me for domestic abuse or some such nonsense. "He left me the money in my accounts, at least," I said quietly. "I need to know why, Caro. Why now" Why not six years ago?"

It wasn't often that the rather placid temperament that reigned in Caroline was pushed aside in favour of fury, but thankfully, it never got too out of control. She calmed almost immediately as I gripped her hands, settling back down beside me with a deep furrow between her brows as she set her mind to thinking over the question. "I can't say that I know for certain, but ..." She shrugged, groping for the right words to explain a suspicion. "I think maybe Junior got caught before and got out of it, maybe? And now you know he's still doing it, and your mom's not here to stop him, he's trying to discredit you so that no one will suspect him again? Possibly?"

I nodded slowly. That made sense. "So you overheard Humphrey and Junior having a row recently' Could you tell what it was about?"

She rolled her eyes. As if the way Junior treated his son wasn't enough, the way he treated his great-uncle was worse. "Something to do with his allowance - sorry, salary - and how he thinks it should have gone up with inflation, even though Humph pays for his home, his food, and the clothes on his back," she growled quietly, resuming a normal tone of voice to continue. "Humph told him where he could get off."

I smiled and chuckled, giving Humphrey a mental slap on the back. "I wonder if Junior's feeling the pinch' His flavour of the month getting too greedy, maybe?"

"Who knows" Maybe he's decided to try and seduce one of the elite and found out she has deeper pockets than him," Caroline suggested, valiantly failing to keep her own chuckle in check.

I snorted a derisive laugh and then the desperation of the situation caught up with me and I sobered. "God, Caro....What am I going to do?"

OH Granger

Date: 2010-12-11 19:23 EST
She leaned over and hugged me tightly for a moment, sitting back to meet my eyes. "You're going to do what you do best, and it just so happens that what you do best is what you love, too," she told me quite seriously. There was a pause, and her lips curved in a tiny smile. "You know, Humph's been on at me to take the apartment over the garage at the Grove," she added in a tone that was just this side of sly. "I'm kinda tempted, but there's all that bother about putting my loft up for sale and everything. Can you think of anyone who might want it?" Her brows lifted enquiringly, head tilted to offer me a decidedly cheeky look.

My expression lightened for a moment and then I frowned and shook my head. "I couldn't afford it, Caro. I've got exactly as much as is in my savings account and somehow, I've gotta figure out how to make that last indefinitely."

"Geez, you're supposed to be the educated one here," she chuckled quietly. "Did you not see how I said 'for sale' there" I own the damn loft. You're family. Rent is non-existent. And if Junior wants to make something of it, let him. I've been waiting for an excuse to give him a piece of my mind for years."

"Really?" Hope surged in me. I'd been resigned to living in WestEnd or some warehouse near the docks.

"Really." She nodded firmly, her smile now fixed in place. "C'mon, Ollie, you know you want to," was added in a teasing voice as her elbow nudged at my arm.

"Well, if you're sure," I said, a tiny, uncertain smile breaking out, my tone matching hers.

"I insist. Can't be a starving artist without the requisite romantic loft studio-flat to play in, can you?" Quite how the conversation had turned light after the revelations of their speech was likely impossible to decipher, but Caroline's smile was fond as she watched me. "Besides, it'll make Humph's day. He can't stop Junior being an ass, but he can watch and enjoy while we get you set up out of the idiot's reach."

I hugged her suddenly, hard and tight, more of a the desperate squeeze of a drowning man than a sign of affection. "Thank you," I whispered and possibly sniffed back a tear.

She hugged back, holding on for as long as I needed to hide the possibility of tears. "Anytime," she promised warmly.

I reluctantly, eventually, released her. "You'll not tell anyone, right' Especially not Lola?"

She shook her head as I leaned back. "I'll take it to the grave," she assured me, mentally filing Ollie's secrets away with her own. "No one'll think anything of it. I'm moving back to the Grove, and you just graduated, so why shouldn't you move yourself into your own space?"

I nodded. "Yes, you're right, of course." I forced a smile. "How do you do this, Caroline" How do you keep us all afloat and not feel like you're drowning, too?"

Her smile turned just a little introspective at that. "I've drowned before," she told me cryptically. "Nothing anyone does is going to drop me that deep again."

"Liar," I said, only half-kidding.

She snorted, forcing a quiet laugh as she tapped her nose sweetly. "To the grave, remember?" Flashing me a wink and a smile, she rose from their improvised seat. "So, wanna come and get totally rat-arsed with me?"

"Yes, if only to keep you from going home with any men of whom I do not approve."

That got me another derisive snort from her. "Trust me, I'm never going to hook up with another Henry," she assured me with a grin that was only slightly put on, looping her arm through mine to tug me to my feet. "By the way, you're the graduate, so I'm paying."

I grinned and tucked Caroline's arm though my, as if I were leading her to a fancy, black-tie affair. "Fine. But we're getting bubbly."

"Hells yes," she agreed with a laugh. "On Junior's tab." I snorted a laugh and led Caroline out of the Marketplace, feeling a shedload lighter than when I'd entered earlier that day.

((Adapted from live play. A huge thanks to Caroline's player!))

OH Granger

Date: 2010-12-14 19:03 EST
June, 2010...

After being assured by my most generous of cousins that I wouldn't end up in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere, elbow to elbow with a troll, I arrived at Linden House to find all of my belongings packed and waiting by the front door. Marta, the housekeeper and cook for all my life, was standing next to the piles of boxes with tears in her eyes. She knew, of course,the true reason for me moving out and was heart-broken over it. I tried to reassure her that I would be fine but she wasn't having any of it. She offered me a little pocket money, but I refused it, telling her to keep it and buy something pretty for herself instead, something that would remind her of me. Then I left my father's house - for the last time, probably - and headed over to Caroline's old loft.

I got settled in, unpacked as much of my things as I had the stomach to, and then phoned Lola to ask her to meet me at Teas n' Tomes to tell her what I'd already discussed with Caroline. The rest of the night was spent in rehearsing what I'd say to Lola the next day. By the time dawn came around, I fell into a fitful sleep, kept on the edge of wakefulness by my idiot bird, Poppy, who was repeating parts of the practise conversation she'd listened to for the past six or so hours.

The next afternoon, I was sitting at one of the table windows, nursing a cup of coffee and a blueberry scone while I waited for Lola. I figured it might be the very last meal I ate outside of the loft, so I'd splurged a little. My sketchbook was open and I was doodling various still lifes in the shop - a stack of books, a cake under a glass dome, a vase of flowers on the counter.

After a short wait, the little bell tinkled and swayed to a halt and my baby sister came inside. Her hands were splashed and stained with scarlet dye the color of fresh blood, and since she had obviously been dyeing today, she'd forgone her usual skirts for an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt that looked like Jackson Pollock had gone on a rampage through the stocks of GrangerGuild dye. She spotted me and hurried over to my table. "Ollie" Are you all right - you're not hurt, are you?"

I glanced up at Lola as she came inside, a little smirk tugging one corner of my mouth as I took in her attire. "You look like you've just come from the slaughter house." I didn't answer her question, though. Instead, I stuck out one stork-like leg and shoved a chair out from the table for her. "Do you want some tea" A scone or something maybe? I'm buying."

She had to give me a huge hug before she sat down. "Oh - um. Lemonade" I've been dyeing today, my arms are killing me and it's awfully hot out." Then she dropped onto the seat and looked at me with a very puzzled expression on her face. "Ollie, what?s going on' First you skipped your graduation ceremony - and I still have your present! And now you're here in the middle of the day." She broke off to put her purse on the floor by her chair. "What's wrong?"

I held up one finger and then rose from my seat to head over to the counter to buy her lemonade. Once it was ready I carried it back to her and retook my seat. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat nervously. I thought I'd rehearsed my lines so many times that it would be as easy and as natural as breathing to break the news to her, but now that I was faced with actually talking to her, I froze. "Uh....I have bad news, Laura." Uh-oh. Real name.

Her puzzled expression turned to one filled with worry. "You said you're not hurt....Oh, no - you're not sick, are you?" Please, her tone of voice added, please don't be sick. "Or Papa - " She thought of her family first, fingers twisting together tightly. She barely noticed the lemonade she's asked for and that I'd brought over.

"I'm not sick; I'm not hurt. Physically, I'm fine." I sat up straighter and idly played with the spoon that was resting on the saucer. "I don't really know how to say this, so I'm just going to...to say it. Six years ago, I discovered that Papa's been embezzling money from the Guild." I paused for a moment and searched her face, my own expression said that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Her expression had gone from worry to relief to shock in the space of three sentences. She blinked. Her very first words were faint. "Oh....that explains it." Her hands relaxed enough that she could wipe down her thighs with her palms. Maybe it was shock, but she seemed very calm at the news. The tells of nerves under tight control were in the way she moved her hands constantly, arranging the glass of lemonade just so in its circle of condensation. "What - what else?"

"He uh...he was using the money to...to pay for his...mistresses." I blurted out the last word like it was a burning ember. "He bought a house somewhere in New Haven, and he's been keeping them there. He's bought them horses and cars and expensive jewellery and clothes and he takes them to the opera and the ballet. Do you remember how many times Mama begged him to go to the opera or the ballet?" I was slowly becoming more angry as I spoke. My hands formed into fists and I dropped them into my lap, lest I scare her.

"You and I went with her instead." It was barely audible, over the jingle of another entering patron. "Until she couldn't - couldn't go out anymore." Now her hands were still, loose on the table in contrast to my tightly-balled fists. When she looked up at my face, her eyes, her expression were devastated. "Why - why would he do something like that' She loved him so much." Her voice was gaining strength as she absorbed the blow. "What - what did you do' Why didn't you tell someone - Humphrey - when you found out?"

"He threatened me, Lola. He...he scared me. Plus....I didn't want Mama to find out. Or you. I wanted to keep you safe." I looked up at her, my eyes soft, begging her to understand that I'd kept quiet for six years to protect her and our mother.

Her brows pulled together with a frown. "It would have broken Mama's heart." She turned the glass of lemonade around and around while she looked out the window. The sun continued to shine down on the street, business came and went at the counter. It was several minutes of silence before she looked back at me and asked, "What did he threaten you with?"

I shook my head and took a tentative sip of my coffee, more out of a desire to stall so I could think of a neutral way to answer her question than any real thirst. "He....You know how he is. He didn't say anything. It was just the way he looked at me, the way he told me to keep quiet." I set the cup back down on its saucer and only the slight rattling was any indication of my inner turmoil. "There's more," I said at length, in a hushed voice.

OH Granger

Date: 2010-12-14 19:12 EST
She had taken a sip of lemonade when I did of coffee, out of some automatic habit of manners. Her expression had gone tight and unhappy again when my cup rattled on its saucer. "What else could he do?" She reached across the table to try to take my hand, the way she had when we were young, after Junior had taken out his belt on me.

I took my sister's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, still amazed at how tiny it was in mine, just like when we were little. "Last week, during finals, his lawyer - his personal lawyer - came by my dorm and dropped off some legal documents. Junior's...well...he's cut me off, Lola. Disinherited me, rescinded the position with the guild, kicked me out of the house." I swallowed audibly, removed my hand from hers and stared out the window.

"Oh - oh, no! No, he can't do that!" She practically threw herself out of her seat to wrap me in a tight hug. "You've worked so hard, and it wasn't even what you wanted to do - just for Papa!" She was caught between distress and uncharacteristic anger. Then a sudden thought made her eyes go wide, and she leaned back to look me in the face. "You said he cut you off - but not from me, from us, the rest of the family' He couldn't do that."

"No. Not from you or the rest of the family. Just him. Just the house. Just my stipend. I have the money left in my accounts, but that's it." I gave her a tiny smile. "So if you know of anyone who really needs some paintings, send 'em my way."

She sank back into her chair, trying to wrap her mind around how thoroughly this would change things. "If you aren't getting your stipend anymore, I won't take mine, either." Her jaw set into a stubborn line. "I won't take money from Papa when you should be getting it too." She looked down and then back up at me with a warm smile. "And you don't need his stipend anyway. Your paintings will sell as soon as you put them on the market."

I frowned. "Lola, don't be silly. Take his money. At least that way it's not going to those whor...uh, women. If you don't want to spend it, then at least put into a savings account or something. Earn interest. You'll be happy if you ever have a broke relative showing up on your doorstep." I forced another tiny smile, trying to make light of the situation for a moment. "I told Caroline. She's given me her old loft, rent free. But...but don't tell anyone else, okay?"

She'd been about to offer that I stay with her, I could see it on her face, never mind that fact that her house was best described as tiny, and filled with loom and spinning wheel and the rest besides. My mention of Caroline stilled that, so she just nodded at suggestion to save the money. "You know I don't have any head for business at all." True. She was just as likely to impulsively give away a piece to a person who admired it than actually sell it. Then she shook her head quickly. "I won't. But Ollie - how will you - what are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "Live carefully. Set a very strict budget and live by it. Maybe I'll try and get a job as a set painter at that new theatre that's opening up soon. Or...maybe I'll find a rich patron who will just commission work from me. There's not much else to do, I guess. I could probably try and get a job at the bank, but....I really don't want to do that."

"No. You should do what you want to do, now - not what he made you do." Her fingers were twisting around each other again. "There's a gallery, in New Haven. It just opened - you should put up some of your paintings for sale there, too. They're so good, Ollie - I know that they'll sell." She had complete faith in her big brother's talent.

I gave her a confident smile that I didn't entirely feel. "I'll do that. Thanks, Lola." I glanced outside and saw that the sun was on its westering approach. "You were working, weren't you?"

"Yes - I had some cotton in, dyeing - " She frowned a bit. "I'll have to re-dye it, tomorrow. Maybe a dark purple, or black -" She broke off and shook her head. "That's not important. Ollie - will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine, Lola. Aren't I always?" I finished my coffee and wrapped the half-finished scone in a napkin before slipping it into the bag in which I carried my sketchbook. Then I stood and offered her my arm. "C'mon, lil' sis. I'll walk you home and then you can make me dinner."

"And give you your graduation present, don't forget." She stood, took my arm - dropped it long enough to duck back down and grab her purse - and straightened again. She gave me a quick hug and a bloom of a smile before she reclaimed my arm. "I've got chicken, and I think maybe some roast beef - what do you want?" The bell overhead jingled as we passed through the door.

((Adapted from live play. Many thanks to Lola's player!))

OH Granger

Date: 2011-02-08 16:24 EST
February, 2011...

And people wonder why I rarely leave my loft.

I'd gone for so long feeling good and happy, doing what I loved, and slowly convincing myself that it didn't matter that Father had cut me off and thrown me out. Lola was safe and I was making money painting. I'd even gotten a job with the Shanachie Theatre to paint sets and posters and things like that. I'd found a patron who had bought five canvases from me and wanted three more. I'd even finished a group portrait of all the cousins that I'd given to Humphrey for Christmas. The last time I'd been up to Maple Grove, I'd seen the portrait hanging proudly in the Old Man's study, right above the mantel.

But then it all fell apart. Lola confronted Father about his stealing and his women and his treatment of me and he'd hit her hard enough to bruise her. My immediate reaction was to go to Alder House and smash the bastard's face in. I wanted to hit him until he was as broken as I feel inside. But I knew acting that way would have hurt Lola more than Father had, so I let it go. I stayed home and painted horrible, nightmarish scenes until I thought I'd purged the anger and the hatred and the impotent feelings of grief and guilt. I burned the canvases and felt such a weight lifting from my shoulders as the flames consumed the paintings.

I was determined to get over what Father had done " both to me and to Lola. So, I bought tickets to the Pirates of Penzance that the Shanachie is producing. I wanted to take Lola and show her what I've been doing; I desperately want someone related to me to be proud of my abilities. I bought three because she had made mention of a beau and as much as the idea of my baby sister having a man makes me physically ill, I realise that she's not a child any longer and I must stop treating her so. But then she told me that she and this mysterious man - Silviu, I think " were no longer together and I was stupidly happy about it for a split second before I realised that she was gutted by it. She asked if we could take Calypso with us instead and Lord help me, I made a complete ass of myself. I've had such a crush on her since she and Lola were roomies at Uni, and we all know what an idiot I am around women. It's probably the biggest reason Lily left me all those years ago.

I tried to say something teasing about wanting to be sure that she cleaned up well, but Cally took me at face value and ran off. And then Correy, the useless pratt, piped up. He's been told plenty of times that his mouth will get him into trouble one day, and that day was today. I could have handled him just calling me mean. He's a spoiled, pampered man-child; he doesn't know the first thing about mean. But when he said that he thought I'd turn out like Junior one day....I don't know. Sometime inside me snapped.

The next thing I knew, I had my hands fisted in his jacket collar and had slammed him against the Red Dragon's bar. It was like I wasn't inside my own body. I was hovering somewhere around my own shoulder, watching this...this...animal manhandling Correy and saying the nastiest things to him. Lola got me to back off and I apologised to her and tried to leave the Inn, but then Correy's partner in crime, the waste of air that is my cousin Gigi, started in on me with the comparisons to Junior as well.

I'm afraid I did not handle myself well. I went after her and we got into a fist fight on the porch. She even had her stupid brass knuckles out and was trying to hit me with them. The world went black at the edges and all I could see what her stupid, smirking face. I wanted to hurt her as much as she always hurts me. They " Correy and Gigi, I mean " don't realise it, but every single thing that falls from their lips is hurtful and ugly and that's how I think of them now. Hurtful, ugly, subhuman creatures.

God, if Lola ever knew that I thought that way about my family....But you know, we're not family. We share the last name, but that doesn't make a family. Respect and concern and compassion and love " that's what makes a family. I've tried to feel those things for Gigi and Correy, but what has it gotten me" Harsh, hurtful words flung in my face. I'm tired of being hurt by people who supposedly love me. First Father, then Lily, and now Correy and Gigi.

I'm not leaving this loft again. I cannot stand the idea of seeing either of those ...creatures....again. I'll be the crazy agoraphobic cousin. Every family needs one, right' I'll just stay here with Poppy and my paints and canvases. It seems the dumb bird and the empty squares of white are about the only things that understand me anymore.