Olivia Goldsmith - Marrying Mom

“Oh my God! You want us to murder her,” Sharon gasped. She clapped her hands over Jessie’s ears to protect her. “You’re going to make us help you do it, aren’t you? We’ll all go to prison.”

“Nope. Murder’s out,” Bruce said. “Not on moral grounds, mind you. It’s just that the woman wrecked the first thirty years of my life. I’m not going to spend the second thirty in jail for her.” He shuddered. “Can you imagine me in prison? God, every night would be prom night. I’ll bet Todd wouldn’t even visit.” He looked seriously at Sigourney. “With all of those shady clients of yours, don’t you know someone who will bump her off and keep us out of it?”

Sigourney rolled her eyes. Couldn’t Bruce ever be serious and couldn’t Sharon ever make sense? “We can’t kill her,” Sigourney explained through clenched and beautifully bonded teeth. Sometimes Sharon was a complete ditz. “First of all, she’s our mother and, more importantly, I have no intention of taking up residence in the Menendez Brothers’ Wing at the nearest correctional facility. Fill or kill is just market talk for completing an order right away or dropping it. You have to help me with this. This is an immediate fill.” She looked at her younger siblings sternly, the way she used to do when they were kids and she forced them to play Monopoly until she landed on Boardwalk and Park Place and had hotels on both. “We need a plan, a strategy, and I’ve got one. But we’ll have to work together to get it to happen.” Finally, for the first time, silence reigned and Sig had everyone’s complete attention. That was just the way she liked it.

Her mind had been working at lightning speed, doing what she did best, when she was trading: pulling together a wide and diverse bunch of information and coming up with a cohesive, realistic program. She could deal with their weaknesses and play to their strengths. She knew she could motivate them, and maybe, for once, they could all work together. She saw, as the Iron Duke must have seen the Waterloo battle plan, the roles that each of them could play in not just winning this battle but ending the war. As it always happened when she was trading, she grew calm and it felt as if time stopped. She knew she could cover the short.

“Sharon, aside from more money coming in, you need something to do. You’re bright, and you used to be a great librarian. We can use your skills.” Sharon opened her small eyes as wide as she could. “Bruce, you need an investor for your rapidly failing business. And you also have a sense of style second to none. I need some new clients. And we all need Mom distracted so that she won’t be driving us totally nuts.” She paused again for the drama of it. “I have a way to accomplish it all.”

Bruce cocked his head. “How?”

“We marry her off.”

“We what ?” Sharon, Bruce, and Barney asked simultaneously.

“We marry her off. Preferably to a wealthy guy with bad health and no heirs.”

“Ahh,” Bruce said, light dawning. “The old Anna Nicole Smith ploy.”

“I prefer to call it ‘Operation Geezer Quest,’” Sig announced with dignity. “If we work together, it could happen.” She warmed to the sale, just the way she did when she was pushing OTC equity or TFI bonds. “We set Mom up like a jewel in a velvet box. We dress her right. Bruce, that’s your job. We put her in a good hotel—no, not just good, but the best. I’ll take care of that. And then we present her to the prospects. Finding them is your job, Sharon. If we work it right it’s a short sell—we get someone to go for it before Mom’s price goes down.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Bruce asked.

“Then we got a street-side buy-in,” Sig said, rolling her eyes. “I lose a lot of money covering the short.”

“But what about Daddy?” Sharon asked. They all turned to look at her.

“Sharon, Dad’s dead,” Bruce reminded her.

“I know that! But that doesn’t mean he would like it. And what does she want with an old guy? She never even took care of us. Why would she want to take care of some old geezer?” Sharon’s eyes filled. “They’re sick and they usually don’t smell very good.”

“Not for her to take care of him. For him to take care of her ,” Sig explained. “We want ’em sick. We have to marry off Mom to somebody really old and really wealthy. Somebody who likes us—likes us a lot. He can introduce me to some rich, powerful clients. He can give Barney a job, and pay for Jessie’s and Travis’s private school. He could even bail out Bruce’s semibankrupt business.”

“He’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind,” Bruce said.

Sigourney nodded. “That would be good,” she agreed. She began counting off on her fingers. “Deaf, dumb, blind, old, and rich.”

“Oh, come off it, Sig,” Sharon almost sneered. “ You’re only forty-one. You’re thin, you’re successful. You have a weird first name, you’re beautiful, and you can’t get a decent date. Phillip Norman is a jerk. He doesn’t even appreciate you. Men want young, beautiful, fresh girls. How in the world are we supposed to find a rich man for Mom?”

Sig recoiled. Phillip Norman had come to her A-list brunch and afterwards, as she cleaned up the mess and waited for Bruce and Sharon, he had told Sig that though he truly liked her he thought it was important for her to know that he didn’t believe there was a future in their relationship. Sig hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry. Phillip was such a compromise for her, such a corporate drone. She’d been with him mainly because of his enthusiasm for her. To find that he wasn’t avid was almost a joke, but one that had an unpleasant irony to it. How low would she sink? Could she find another man anywhere? Next she’d be sleeping with Eldin the painter.

“Right,” Bruce agreed. “If I haven’t found one, why should she get one? And even if we could get ahold of such a commodity, how could we possibly get Mom to date him? You know what she’s like.” He shrugged. “To know her is to be permanently irritated.”

Sigourney pulled herself together. It was now or never. She tried to do her best Andy Hardy imitation. “Oh, come on, kids. I’m not saying it’s easy, but we’re not licked yet. You haven’t lost all your librarian skills, Sharri. You can do the research, finding the geezers. And Brucie, you still have all those dresses in your closet.” He grimaced at her. “Okay. We’ll buy costumes! But we can use your makeup. I’ll write the script and direct the rehearsals. And Barney …” She paused, momentarily losing her enthusiasm. “Well, we’ll find something you can handle. So, come on, kids. Let’s put on a show!”

She dropped the fake energy and her tone became cold and as frightening as she could manage. “Because if we don’t, let’s face it: our lives will become even worse than they are now.”

although it was seventy-eight degrees and sunny, the Miami airport was incongruously decked out in fake firs and Christmas tinsel. Sylvia Katz, forlornly schlepping her oversized purse, looked at Phyllis and shook her head. “First class? It’s such a bad idea. And a waste of money,” she said.

“What the hell.” Phyllis shrugged. “I’ve never flown first class in my life. And that travel agent of my son-in-law’s looked at me with respect.”

“For wasting money, she respects you?”