The Ambitious Guest

by .....© 1997 by John F. Clennan, All Rights Reserved

Dedicated to the late Susan Kavitz

Waitresses, like sad goddesses must stand aloof from mortal's affairs, especially from Yankees who think of themselves as gods.

Every Monday night, at the Temperance Diner, Bill Gagakos the owner of the Temperance Diner convened the Yankee Philosophical Society and the three or four regulars, including Henry Miller, the small town local lawyer, and Jimmy Blades, a well educated ne'er do well were generally on time when Greek Bill clanged a water glass to open the meeting. Their topic shifted from the ridiculous to the sublime in a speak as the spirit moves you with the caveat that someone who changed the topic paid a nickel fine.

I didn't mind much. The Yankee Philosophical Society made slow Monday evenings pass quickly. And I got to put my two cents in at the end when I tabulated and collected the nickel fines in a coffee can.

"Jane," Bill would flash his dark eyes with a twinkle as he growled his order, "you're not to intercede."

The Yankee Philosophical Society generally had the restaurant to themselves. Around the time that the check for Jimmy Blade's inheritance was handed to him in the diner, a clean cut brown haired man started to drop by the restaurant on his travels between his vacation home further north and his apartment in New York City. He'd sit eat dinner and read the Wall Street Journal or a foreign paper. Occasionally our strange guest'd catch a line or two of the philosophical discussion, cock a neatly styled light brown topped head at an angle and smile.

I can't say the Yankee Philosophical Society discussed much philosophy. There were times Henry Miller, the small time lawyer would turn from asking me for more tadjiki sauce for his souvalaki to saying, "Don't take this wrong, Bill, But all this immigration has changed things in America too fast. People used to want to be Americans; they didn't bring their ways here."

In his deep resonant voice, Bill replied, "We bring new life to you. Without us, you'd cease copulating and thus would end the American dream." Although expert in spoken English, Bill tended towards a flowering style that we plain talking Yankees like only in writing.

On the subject of "copulation" and "Jimmy's inheritance," Bill had dreams. Bill introduced a succession of dark haired American born Greek princesses to Jimmy Blade without success. Bill privately remarked to me, "In racing, Jane, they call a stallion like Jimmy a shy breeder. Do you think he's gay ?"

The pleasant stranger overheard the remark and laughed. Jimmy, the ne'er do-well son of a wealthy Yankee family kept his inheritance in a checking account and lived off tips he made caddying at the golf course. As a true Yankee, Jimmy intended to keep every penny for himself.

As liberal and as tactful, Miller pretended to be, he too was a true Yankee, Even if Miller could not hide his antipathies, Miller, deferring to Bills' sensitivities tempered prejudices under the discussion heading "The Impact of the Orient" so that Yankee disdain of foreigners would be palatable to the Greek.

"How do you expect our American workers to compete with people who live in paper houses and take home a handful of rice for pay ?" Lawyer Miller thundered.

During Miller's tirade, the stranger I now know as Keith Fulsome pleasantly looked up from his paper. Fluttering his eyelashes, his deep blue eyes twinkled, Keith Fulsome sprouted a disdainful half smile. Keith started toward the register, but with determination headed toward the table to challenge the philosophers, "You don't understand the difference between a society founded on the individual and one found on the group..."

Bill leaned forward. His dark eyes were flashing, his bearded chin sprouted a grin. Bill enjoyed a challenge.

Invited into the discussion, Keith politely declined, shaking his head slowly, "No, back to the Trumph Towers. Have to work."

"Consider joining our group. We meet every Monday," Bill politely replied.

"I'll try...," Keith said tentatively, shaking his head, politely spurning the offer. "My business, takes me away so much I rarely have time to visit my summer cottage on the lake..."

Keith left in a stately blue Audi which, while not ostentatious, nicely complimented his image, even though the tip was by no means extravagant.

When Keith returned, several Mondays later he sat at this usual table and read his newspapers with dinner.

"Missed you I said, Where've you been ? Bill asked.

"Abudabbi, Montevideo, Bombay, Bejing on business," Keith said, rolling the paper as he prepared to eat.

At Bill's insistence, Keith joined the Philosophers at their table. The discussion had not yet begun when Keith's suede jacket began to ring. Miller and Gagakos stared at Keith's jacket. Jimmy Blades stared off into space as he usually did. Of course we know about cellular phones; nobody hereabouts in this Yankee backwater had one.

Annoyed, Keith Fulsome looked up at the clock on the wall over the counter. "8 p.m., must be London. Seven hour difference," Keith commented.

Bill's eyes narrowed; his expression turned quizzical.

"Go ahead," Keith said, "Carry on your discussion." While Keith attended to the call at the table, a semblance of the conversation fluttered about the table between Bill and Henry, until in a booming voice Keith exclaimed, "The 10 million dollar Chinese loan maybe approved." He smiled in self satisfaction involuntarily.

"A 10 % commission...Nice days work. I'll have to call you later to work out the details." Keith rose, stood erect and reached for his suede jacket, "Sorry gentlemen, I must return to New York City..." Although in a hurry, Keith paused; the men at the table were stunned silent.

"And where do the Red Chinese get $10 million, " Henry Miller asked, "to pay banks back ? No wonder our country is falling apart..."

Keith deliberately paused shook his head. "Trade off merchandise credits; Credits for the little junk they make or will make. A complex system of trade offs that works simply without cash, without gold..."

Keith paused. "The problem is I need an offshore office, Tax purposes. And I need Twenty Thou... oh, well not, creative cash flow is the problem of the enterprising world conqueror, not your problem." Keith paused and shook his head relishing anticipation.

When Keith left, the table fell silent for a full minute before it exploded in discussion.

"Twenty Thousand to make a million deal this week ! I wish I didn't have every penny tied up in a restaurant," Bill exclaimed.

"Don't look at me. Ten percent of my clients pay me. The rest don't even try." Miller remarked.

Both Bill Gagakos and Henry Miller looked at Jimmy Blades with leering eyes.

"And you think I can pay $20,000 out of tips on the golf course. Com'on," Jimmy replied. "Jane, more coffee?"

Men are so gullible. I winched in pain. Where Greek princesses had failed Henry and Bill might have lost Jimmy's money through the stranger, if Henry hadn't caught my eye and held it for a full minute.

Goddesses may not interfere in mortal's affair, but they can throw hints.

The Yankee Philosophical Society was prepared to begin its regular Monday session when Keith burst in excited. Drawing Miller off into the shadows, Keith started to explain the legal paperwork required.

"I'd bring," Keith chided Miller in a boastful tone, "the case to my solicitors in New York City, but I just got the call and need the documents by the morning. So you think you can do it ?

Bill though annoyed at the interruption widened his eyes with the dollars said to be involved.

When Keith finished with Miller, Bill clicked his glass with a spoon to signal the opening of discussion.

As the meeting proceeded, I drew no glint of comprehension from Henry Miller during discussion. When it came time for me to tally the fines Bill imposed, I took the guest check and read the numbers slowly and held out the coffee can.

Miller held up a hand and added, "Keith has a $5.00 fine. And so do I." Miller plunked a $5.00 bill on the table.

All eyes were on Keith. Even old honest Abe seemed to stare up from the table. I had to restrain myself from laughing. Yankees like Henry weren't as dumb as the stranger might have thought.

"What for ?" Keith asked.

"Interrupting the club with private business," Miller replied.

When Keith pleaded he was short, Miller remarked, "Imagine a million dollar project can't raise five bucks for a stake in a bull session. How will it pay my counsel fee ?"

Ah, yes goddesses have power without saying a word.