HOME & HEARTH...... by CORALYNN

Whew!" Eleanor exhales a breath of relief, "It's good to be home!"
"Does this feel like home to you, Eleanor?" William asks, bemused.
"It's the best place and time I've been yet," explains Eleanor, "I get to have as much fun as I want and I don't have to deal with Henry or the boys, and I think I'll make this my permanent residence."
William shakes his head, wondering how that could ever turn out. Would it rewrite history?
"I am relieved, also," Bethiah comments, "I did not enjoy the rough and tumble world back at Court, William, no offense, but it was just too violent for me and gave me a headache."
William gives her a quick hug and smiles.
"You did not complain, though, Bethiah. You must learn to speak up when something displeases you."
"I did not want to spoil everyone's fun," Bethiah goes on, "I knew we were there for just two days, and you all seemed to be right at home there."
"HA!" Eleanor retorts, "Not me, Bethiah, not me, not ever again, never!" John is pensive, but then asks, "Why was it evening when we were back at Court but now it is mid-day, William?"
"That's because of the time zones," William explains.
"Time what?!"
"Well you see, they established this thing called the Prime Meridian......" and as he and John walk toward the hotel, the voices fade in the distance.

"I am going into my hotel room and watch movies on HBO," Rosamond announces, "Anyone want to join me?"
Eleanor and Bethiah exchange questioning glances, then Eleanor answers, "We can order room service and have a great meal while we watch. What had you in mind, Rosie?!"
"There may be something listed in that thin book they call a TV Guide," Rosamund goes on, "And we can choose from that. I wonder if I could ever appear in one of those movies, after all, I am a big Television star now!"
"I wasn't aware that any of your acting had been shown yet," Bethiah said, "We will surely watch when it begins tomorrow, when we get to see YOU on the show."
"You will be dazzled!" Rosamond promises her.
"I may be at work at the Puritan Village at that time, though," Bethiah realizes.
"No problem, you can tape it!" Rosamond assures her, feeling very up to date on the latest technology, "I learned how to program the VCR the day before we left for Court. It's wonderful."

As the three women go up in the elevator to Rosamond's room, John and William are discussing more pressing matters.
"We must not stay at the Plaza much longer," William confides to John, "As it is very costly, the bill mounts ever higher and there is no way to prepare our own food when we are using hotel rooms as our abodes. No kitchen. Eating in restaurants every meal costs a great deal and besides, we need more room. We need a living room."
"We had a parlor back in Southold," John remembers almost fondly, then frowns, "But honestly, William, the furniture was not comfortable. New York City in the 21st Century is ever so much more comfortable."
"And expensive, John," William continues his train of thought, "We must buy an apartment, the larger the better. We need a great many sleeping rooms."

With the prospect of living in an apartment with all of them together, William shudders and pictures Rosamond constantly trying to lure John into her room.
He tests the water:
"John, how do you feel about Rosamond?"
John sighs and shakes his head. "She is a puzzle, William, and her past is even more scandalous than I at first imagined. I have the feeling that she never loves anyone, but just has adventures with them. She is playing Henry for a fool. She all but got us killed. This is not my idea of womanhood."
"Ahhh yes," William sounds like he understands, "Where Rosamond goes, trouble follows."
They both sit thinking their own thought, then William asks, "I wonder why you don't spend more time with Bethiah. She is very agreeable and she understands the time in which you both lived."
"That indeed she does," John nods, "And I think we shall have to go out on.....what do they call it here......a date?"
"A date it is, John, a date it is."

William goes to the room shared by Eleanor and Bethiah, but upon knocking, finds no response, so he proceeds to Rosamond's room, wondering why the three of them would be together there.
As he stands outside the door he hears the television very loudly, along with raucous laughter and the clanging of eating utensils.
He knocks and the door is flung open almost immediately. Rosamond grins up at him and says "What do you want, big boy?"

William sees trays strewn about the room and dishes heaped with food. There are a surprisingly large number of wine decanters considering there are but three people.
"What are you doing?" he demands as he reaches over and flips off the TV, which is met with great howls of protest. Eleanor begins banging her knife against her wine goblet, chanting "The King is dead, long live the Queen!" and giggling in a manner that could only mean she has already finished off more wine than a sensible person would consume. "This must cease!" William booms.
That gets their attention and they pause, forks of food halfway to their mouths.
"No more room service," Wililam goes on, "It is the most expensive way to dine, and it must not happen again! I would that you three were less inebriated, but, that aside, I am here to inform you that we are not to spend ANY money from our paychecks when we receive them hopefully within a week. We need to pool our money so we can pay our bill here at the Plaza and get an apartment. We will also need a large down-payment in order to get a decent apartment."

Rosmond looks at him with a dreamy expression, "Will we ALL live there, William? Even John?"
"Of course John. Did you think we were putting him out on the street?"
William looks at her suspiciously. What silly plots are rolling around in her head? "You will not harrass John, however; we will live as friends and cooperate and not cause scenes."
"Friends?!" both Eleanor and Rosamond query, "With her?!"
"Yes, with her!! You will leave your enmity back in the 12th Century and not let it contaminate us here, do you understand that?"
The two women bare their teeth at each other then fall into laughter.

"Now, about the money situation," William returns to that train of thought, "You will each make up a list of Luxuries that you promise to NOT buy from here on in. I will be back in an hour to collect your lists. Sign them on the bottom, don't forget. Do not watch television........make your lists. This is important!"
Bethiah wonders what 'luxuries' she has ever purchased and struggles to think what she might put on her list.
As William turns to leave the room, both Eleanor and Rosamond make mocking faces behind his back. He closes the door, hears it click, then as he walks away he hears the unmistakable sound of the TV on very, very loud.

Inside the room, the three women are watching HBO and making out their lists.
"I find it hard to think with the televison on," Bethiah comments. "Just put down anything," Eleanor advises her, "anything that is not a bare necessity. Oh that William is a hard case. He expects us to live like serfs!"
"Yeah," Rosamond agrees, "and I'm a big TV star. I can't live like a peasant!"
Bethiah tries to come up with some items for her list, "Food is necessary, uhhhhhh, let's see, what else do I buy?"
"No diamond tierras," Rosamond says as she writes this on her list, "not that I ever HAD one, you understand. Hmmm, how about I will not buy a castle? How about I will not buy a fur coat?"
"You must have a fur coat," Eleanor thinks that is sensible, "I hear it becomes very cold in New York in the winter, so strike that one off your list. Let's see, I will not buy a new crown, or an ermine trimmed cape, oh rats!! This is harder than I thought!"

An hour later William reappears to collect the lists.
By that time the women have sobered up a bit and are sitting dejectedly as he enters the room. He says nothing, but gathers up their lists.
As his eyes scan each one, he notices that Bethiah has almost no items listed.
"Why so few things on your list, Bethiah?" he asks, but not in an accusatory manner.
"I have no experience with what you consider luxuries," Bethiah tells him.
William gives her a kindly look and tells her, "I trust you more than the other two, Bethiah, so do not concern yourself. I am a bit confused that you wrote you would not purchase a castle, however."
"That was MY idea," Eleanor puts in, "what else could she write? I put it on my list as well. Did you include it also, Rosie?"
"Yes, I most certainly did," Rosamond smiles, "I also promised not to buy any real estate on the Jersey shore!"
Everyone looks at her in surprise.
"Wellllllll, I watch the real estate on tv, and I saw some property there going for a great price. I will not buy it, nor will I buy," and with that she pulls the magazine section of the Sunday NYTimes from the side-table and flips to the back, "a place on the upper east side for one point eight million. I will also control my urge to buy a house in the Hamptons." and with that she slaps down the newspaper in triumph.

"I think you have misunderstood my request, ladies," William says in exasperation. "Let us put it this way, then: you will make no purchases over one hundred dollars without clearing it with me first."

Eleanor objects, "Hey, this is slavery!! Who died and made YOU God, William?"
However, she knows this protest is in vain and does not continue her complaints.

"We will begin looking at available apartments tomorrow evening after we all return from our jobs," William decides aloud, "And it might do you well to inquire at your place of employment how much you will be paid so that I can make up a budget."
"What's a budget?!" they all ask, but by then he has left the room.

MONDAY morning dawns fair but humid.
William decides to arrive at the TV studio early to make sure the producer and staff have stocked the items he requested.

As he enters the studio he sees Mary Howe glance his way and grimmace. "Why so wroth?" he asks her.
"I could find no boar's head," she tells him, "and I even contacted Borneo to see if they had any. No. I went on the web and contacted every supply house in the tri-state area, and no one has any boars heads. Are you carrying this Authentic Medieval Fare thing a bit far, Wiliam?"
"What am I to cook, then?" he is becoming frustrated.
"We found a pig, the largest pig we could. We have since lopped off its head. It was a bloody, messy thing and I hope you never request such again!!"
Mary leads him over to the cooler where the pig's head is stored. He eyes it and pronounces it alright; not what he wanted but alright. "Is the staff heating up the hot coals yet? We tape in an hour," William tells her.
"Ohhhh yeah," Mary says, "they have begun that chore and are not one bit happy with it. Even the air conditioning here is having a hard time keeping the studio cool with your requests. Are you going to control your use of grease this time?"
William does not answer, but begins to put on his cooking outfit.
The big white apron seems fine as he ties to around in back. Mary knows what is coming next, so she approaches him with a box, flipping it open for his inspection.
"Here's your crown, which cost us a king's ransom. It had better fit because we are not spending another dime on a show that has yet to debut."

William afixes the crown to his head. It fits quite well. He then walks over to a mirror and views it from the front, the sides, and sighing, tells her, "This is going to have to do. It is not the quality one would expect from a royal crown, but I will make do with it." Mary's eyes are big with exasperation, recalling how much that stupid crown cost.

Less than an hour later, the lights come up, the cooking surfaces are heated, and with large fan-fare, the beginning segment of the show commences.
"And NOW, ladies and gentlemen, we present, for the first time anywhere, our Royal Chef, our own William the Conqueror!" the announcer intones enthusiastically.

William can see the light on TV camera #3, and faces that way.
"I am preparing a royal feast," he begins, using his most impressive Show-Business voice, "one that will thrill you, one that will make you run to the market for these rare ingredients, one that will delight your guests and make you a culinary legend!"
He then takes the hot coals from the scuttle and with tongs, drops them into the open head of the pig. He explains how to get the big hole in the pig, but, as his staff has done this unpleasant task beforehand, he does not demonstrate. The hot coals sizzle as he drops more and more of them into the gaping hole in the top of the pig's head. He smiles with satisfaction.
He then goes on to tell about the roasting pit, which he wishes he had there in the studio, but in lieu of that, he has to wrap the whole thing in foil and put it into the oven.

"You, of course, will dig a 4-ft deep pit in your yard, line it with more coals, fire it up, then, the important part: shovel the dirt back in on top of the boars, I mean, pigs, head."
Everyone working on the show looks aghast. This guy is really nuts!
They never change their expression, either, as he proceeds toward the end of his 30-minute segment.

When the producer announces "we're out!" William sighs, flings off his apron and carefully replaces his crown in the box.
The cooking shows have live audiences; small, but live. As William concludes, some of the audience members rush up to him for an autograph. "You are the best!" is one of many comments he hears from them.
"Your show should be an hour long!" is another.
"Do you ever cater parties?" is also heard.
Mary Howe is worn out from it all. She knows she has to oversee four more shows that week with this madman. Perhaps she should put in for a raise or combat pay.

In another studio in the same building, Rosamond is in her dressing room, having her hair and makeup and wardrobe all completed for the start of the day's taping.
She knows John has to be in his dressing room as well, but as yet she has not seen him. Could he be avoiding her?
Soon enough they are taping the scene in which Daisy rebuffs Dudley's attempt to make her a respected woman.
Again, John does not reach to embrace her. She is becoming frustrated with this.
Each time the Dudley character makes his pitch for her undivided loyalty, he says all the right words, but makes no romantic advances upon her.
During one of the breaks, she protests to the director.
"If he is so in love with Daisy, why does he not at least try to kiss her?"
"He is hurt and angry," she is told, "and until the writers decide to have Daisy back down from her insistence on being a prostitute, he will be devoted but keep his physical distance. That's the script, sweetie!" Rosamond stomps off and plunks down in her chair by the set. Damn! Double-damn!

The agreement was to meet at Monk's coffee shop when everyone was done working at their jobs. Bethiah and William arrived first, with John coming in a few minutes later. They wondered where Eleanor was, when she suddenly appeared all flushed and announced:
"No one can unseat me! No one! In one of my jousts today I all but took that sucker's head right off!"
William is appalled, "Where did you get such language, Eleanor?"
"I learn quickly," she answered, flinging herself into the booth next to Bethiah, "This is what they say in New York. You told us to blend in, didn't you?!"
"Well, yes......." he begins but is cut off as Eleanor goes on, "When I took off my helmet and my hair fell down behind me, the crowd went wild, they went berserk! This is more fun that I ever had at Court! This is more like it!!"

"How was your day, Bethiah?" Eleanor remembers that she is not the only one there, and also feels sorry for Bethiah, who is so meek and mild that chances are she wouldn't say anything unless invited.
"I met someone who claimed to be a descendant of the Adams family," she told them. "I inquired how that could be since Caleb had no children, and he said that Caleb's brother in Boston had married and produced twelve children. This is so strange. When we were in Southold but a couple weeks ago, most of these people were not even born yet, now here I meet with someone who is eleven or twelve genearations descended from them. Does this not strike the rest of you as confusing?"
"Nope!" Rosamond answers, "I am only confused about why John avoided me all day at the studio. What is your problem, John?" she turns to him. "It is easier to act when you see the other actor as the part she plays, not as herself, so I stay away until the taping." He hopes that mollifies her, though he knows it isn't the whole truth.
"You're weird," she tells him, "you're,,,,,,,,,,,,,"
William sends her a withering glance, so she stops her diatribe against John.

They are almost through the small meal they've decided to eat, since it isn't quite late enough for dinner when they hear someone laughing very loudly and the sound keeps up so long that they turn to see who is producing it.
"I hated that movie!!" the young woman is telling her companion, "I thought that guy would never die!! Whoever said "The English Patient' was a good movie was soooooo out to lunch. It was boring, it was long, and I kept muttering 'why don't you die, you boring wretch,' so I can leave this movie theater??"

"New Yorkers tend to be loud," William tells them as they turn back around. "If we turn to look at each one who is too loud our heads will be in a constant state of swiveling. Just ignore it."
About that time the loud woman's companion says, also loudly, "Elaine, you are not a decent person and I can't associate with someone who doesn't even understand that movie. You must be mad."
Since our time-travelers are now done eating, they rise, walk by the loud couple, and pay their bill. They are about to walk out when they miss Eleanor. They locate her standing by the loud couple, talking to the woman, Elaine.
"You tell them, Elaine," she says encouragingly, "Don't let anyone ride over you!!"
"OH MY GOD!" the Elaine woman says, "You play Eleanor of Aquitaine at the Renaissance Festival! I saw you today! You were magnificent! Here....." shoving her napkin over to the edge of the table, " give me your autograph. The guys will never believe this!"
William shoots Eleanor a cautionary look. Please don't let her blow her cover, please!

They have an appointment with a real estate agent to see several apartments at 6.
William herds them toward the subway.
"Can't we take a taxi just one more time??" Rosamond begs, "We will look bedraggled if we arrive straight from the subway."
"Bedraggled or not, the subway it IS!" William says with authority.

Mr. Hanover, the real estate agent, is to meet them at his posh Park Avenue office. As they enter, the receptionest, who is about to leave for the day, takes one look at the group and becomes excited.
"YOU are on television!" she enthuses.
Three of the five look at each other, wondering which of them she meant. "I love your cooking show," she goes on, "I saw it this morning before I came to work, as I don't begin here till noon. I have never laughed so hard in my life!!!"
"Laughed, madame?! William raises one eyebrow.
"You are the spitting image of what most of us think Wililam the Conqueror looks like," she explains, "yet you get down and dirty just like we do. Burying a pig's head in the back yard! That takes the cake! When I got to work I told Mr. Hanover he HAD to watch it tomorrow. What fun do you have planned for tomorrow?"
William has decided not to be insulted, and gives the receptionest a warm smile and simply coos, "You must wait and see."
She claps her hands together and, gathering up her belongings, goes to the elevator. In just a moment it arrives and she boards. As the doors begin to close, she waves at William with her fingers wiggling in delight.
"Good grief, William, you're a star already!" Rosmond declares. "I don't know if anyone will recognize me from just being on that soap-opera I'M on, not in just one day."
"I'm sure you will be recognized also very soon........." William starts, but just then the door opens and Mr. Hanover emerges from his large, spare office.
It is decorated mainly in stainless steel, even the decorative elements being steel spiral staircases suspended almost invisibly from the ceiling. Our time travelers are not much taken by it.
Mr. Hanover extends a large, fleshy hand to William and says "Mr. Williams, I think I have some wonderful apartments lined up for you and your family to see." He looks around the group expectantly, thinking that William will now introduce each member of his 'family.' When this is not forthcoming, Hanover cuts his loses and leafs through some papers, each with the details of what he considers an appropriate apartment.

"Let us sit and look through these before we view them in person," Hanover suggests.
They sit......papers are passed around the small table.......when Bethiah asks, "What is river vu?"
"That is real estate talk for view," Mr. Hanover explains. "We have to keep our words to a minimum, especially when we advertise in the Times, so we have clever ways of spelling the words."
Eleanor wrinkles her nose, thinking spelling things in a 'clever' way is just plain stupid and lazy, but keeps her thoughts to herself.

Rosamond becomes excited after looking at the description of one apartment........"Ohhhhh, 4 bedrooms, and 4 bathrooms?! I never heard of such a thing! I will have my very own, and NO one else will be allowed to step foot into it. I vote for this one!" she announces, shaking it over her head.
William takes the sheet of paper, scans it, finds the price, and says, "Not for over four million dollars, you won't, Rose."
After the group of 5 thoroughly reads the descriptions and prices on the fifteen possibilities Mr. Hanover has presented, William sadly announces that they are all overpriced.
"Hmmmmm," Mr. Hanover is pensive, "perhaps you would like to move just north of the City in Westchester County. You can get a larger home there for less money and the trip into the City is only about 30 minutes by train. You might get some acreage with your house, also."
"Acreage sounds good," Rosamond declares. She feels this is her forte, choosing something like a place to live. She deserves the best. She wants to be the Mistress of a great Castle or Manor House or SOMEthing. Of course she has no idea what the word acreage means, but she likes the sound of it. It must be a good thing after all. Mr. Hanover thinks it's a good thing to have.
Mr. Hanover looks at his watch and declares that they have time to motor up to Westchester right then and there and look at two or three properties.
"YES!" Rosamond jumps up in glee.
"What do the rest of you think about this idea?" William inquires.
"Sounds good," John says solidly.
"I would love to see some countryside," Eleanor adds.
"Could we have a dog if we moved to Westchester? I miss my dog, Fang, very much," Rosamond says wistfully.
"Probably yes," Mr. Hanover says, nodding, "Most of these places have at least two acres; plenty of room for a dog to run. Let's go so that we can view them before it becomes dark outside!"

Soon they are riding in Mr. Hanover's huge, comfortable car, which seems to float over the road. None of them has ever ridden in an automobile before. Taxis were not real automobiles as far as comfort, and God knows the subway was not.
Bethiah closes her eyes for a short period of time, and when she reopens them they are out in the countryside. How did they get into the countryside so fast?? Amazing! How green it is! How unlike Southold!!"

"The town we are approaching is named Chappaqua," Mr. Hanover informs them, "a nice, peaceful town where you can have a lot of friends or be left alone, it's your call. Our former President, Bill Clinton, lives here."
"President?" Eleanor sits up straighter in her seat, "Is that similar to a King?"
William wants to groan aloud, but does not dare. Why can't Eleanor get over it?!
Mr. Hanover laughs and answers, "In this country I suppose it is."
Eleanor then takes more notice of the passing scenery and the houses that appear on the country roads. They are quite nice. No actual castles, of course, but after being in New York City for two weeks, this appears to be a charming place to live.

They pull up in a large circular driveway in front of a house that is both brick and timber. There are mature shade trees all around the front and sides and glancing up they see the tops of the trees in the back also.
"This seems quite pleasant," William comments as they get out of the car and approach the house. "What price is being asked for this house?"
Mr. Hanover double checks in his listings notebook, "This is a million five."
"Five?!" Rosamond blurts out.
"Five means half," William tells her between clenched teeth, wishing he could stuff a gag in her mouth.
"How far is this from the former King's house?" Eleanor says with excitement. Again, William wishes he could kick her under the table, but alas, they are not sitting around a table.
"Let's see," Mr. Hanover estimates, "It would be down there, then turn right......ohhhh, I would say almost a mile."
"That is quite close, is it not?" Eleanor again asks an inappropriate question.
William yanks her arm and pulls her aside from the others,
"Eleanor, you are not blending in. You are asking questions that make you appear to be a madwoman. I thought Rosamond was the rattle-brain here, but it seems you have decided to outdo her by asking stupid questions."
"I don't see what is so stupid....I need to be near 21st century people who are also royal......" Eleanor begins, but he then pulls her back into the group and they walk into the house.

It is a very spacious house inside. Bethiah roams from room to room, totally overwhelmed that a house could be so large and lovely. A hotel, yes, but a house? This is nothing like Southold in 1640. Perhaps Eleanor is right about never going back to the original time in which she lived. John catches up with her, and, walking alongside, asks "Would you like to attend a movie with me tomorrow night, Bethiah?"
She is startled. A movie. Not one on TV, but one in a theater.
"That would be a great treat," she tells him, "It would be the first time either of us has gone into one of those movie theaters. Isn't the 21st Century a marvel, John? Could you have ever predicted something like this back in 1640?"
"Never," he agrees with her, then reaches for her hand, and, taking it, they stroll into the next room.
From the foyer they hear William announce, "We'll take it!"
"But don't you want to see the others?" asks the real estate agent.
"This is perfect. We like it. We'll take it. Where's the furniture, by the way?"
Mr. Hanover looks surprised by the question. "You will have to furnish the house yourselves. There is a stove, refrigerator, dishwasher, clothes washer and dryer that the previous owners left here, but you will have the pleasure of furnishing the rooms."
Both Eleanor and Rosamond have big ideas about what type of furniture would look appropriate and begin to wrangle about it. Bethiah does not enter into this argument, she simply has a smile on her face as she continues to hold John's hand.


Ahhhh, a Home in the Country
Part 48.....by Coralynn

It is now Friday, several days after our Time Travelers have chosen the house they will live in. This is also the day they will all be paid, and enthusiasm is running high.
"Can the person who gets the most money choose the furniture, Wililam!" Eleanor asks. "Or should we choose the person with the most Royal station?" she ends, glancing at Rosamond with glee.
"If we based it on who is the most royal, Eleanor, I would automatically win!" William tells her, "and I know there is a lot of dissention here over which furniture should be purchased. I am not a great decorator. A great cook, yes, but not a great decorator."
At that the other four stifle their laughter. In the past week William has not just suggested burying a pig's head in the yard, he has also demonstrated flambe and all but set the studio on fire. He has seasoned food with the most unlikely spices, which have been flying off the shelves of every supermarket in the tri-state area. His ratings have gone from good to spectacular; word of mouth advertising has made him the biggest thing since Survivor.

"I have an idea," Bethiah says, "Why don't we draw lots for who chooses the furniture? That way no one can complain about it later."
"Sound idea," John agrees, "don't you think that would be best, William?"
William is adament, "We must get it soon, as we are to be moving in this weekend, starting tomorrow. The deal won't be complete for a month, but Mr. Hinshaw said that the owners were open to the idea of renting it to us in the meantime. Sitting on the floor and even sleeping thereon, is too horrible to consider."

Rosamond gathers up strips of paper and hands them to William, explaining, "All the papers are the same length but one which is very short. The person who gets that chooses the furniture, OK?"
William arranges them in his hand so that they all appear the same length. Eleanor approaches and accuses, "One of them is crimped! Look at that!" and she pulls out the shortest paper. "As usual, Rosamond is trying to cheat."
William sighs and rearranges them in the other direction.
"There! They all look alike now, so Eleanor, you pick first."
Eleanor examines the slips of paper, concentrating hard, trying to discern the short one by dint of staring at them all fixedly.
"Come on, Eleanor!"
"Please!"
The others are losing their patience.
She pulls out a paper and it looks like a long one. She grimmaces and makes room for Bethiah to choose. Bethiah also gets a long strip of paper.
John comes next, hoping he doesn't win, as he has no idea what furniture he would choose. With great relief, he also gets a longer paper.
Rosamond has a 50-50 chance. The only other possible winner is William, and NO one wants William to decorate.
She tugs and then gasps. "I got the short one!" she begins to chant over and over.
There is groaning heard from the others.
William just shrugs philosophically and then instructs, "Rosamond, after your taping today, you must go to this furniture store and order what you think appropriate, asking if they can push a rush on it so that it arrives at our new house tomorrow."
Rosamond takes possession of the furniture brochure and triumpantly begins looking through it.
"I'll finish looking at the studio," she tells them, as she has to rush off to get there on time. "Coming, John??"
She has been rather harsh with John since she found out he took Bethiah to the movies a few nights back. She had waited up for them to come home, and, as they opened the door, she glared at both of them haughtily. Neither of them could understand why she was behaving as she was. They had simply gone to a movie. But Rosamond now saw Bethiah as a rival. She had been cool to her ever since.

"Time to go to work!" William bustles about, "Put your pay checks in a safe place and we will see what kind of income we will be getting from now on. Don't begin feeling rich, now. Remember, we still have to pay our hotel bill and this high Am-Ex bill you ran up. See you at dinnertime. Now, off you go!" he makes motions as if to shoo away chickens.

Rosamond is not only unhappy with John taking Bethiah to the movies, she is also not pleased by the distance he keeps from her at the studio, both before the taping and during it. She has asked the Director and Writers more than once to please, please heat up the relationship Daisy has with Dudley, but so far nothing is any better.
After today's taping, in which all Daisy and Dudley did was fight about the pregnancy of another female character, Daisy accusing Dudley of being responsible, things are no warmer.
"Would you like me to help you at the furnture store, Rosamond?" he asks her.
She doesn't see him approach, and almost jumps at the sound of his voice. She taks a minute to process this request. Could he be tired of that simpering Bethiah and want a real woman after all?
"That would be lovely," she answers him. That would not only be lovely, that would be sensational, she thinks. I have a chance to bring him back under my spell.

As they enter the furniture store, they see what appears to be miles and miles of couches, tables, beds, lamps, television sets, bookcases, and on and on. It takes them a minute to get their bearings, and about the time they do, a salesman approches them. 'Can I help you?"
"You most certainly can!" Rosamond says cheerfully, "We need to have furniture for a four bedroom house. We need everything but, let's see, on my list it says we have a washer and dryer and refrigerator and stove and things like that. But we need everything else. Do you sell sheets and blankets and cooking utensils also?"
"No, but the store next door carries a full line of linens and housewares," the salesman assures her.

There are several areas in which rooms have been arranged with furniture that the store thinks look especially good together. Rosamond is relieved. Hey, all she has to do is choose ROOMS. How hard can that be? They are shown several very attractive bedrooms, and Rosamond, looking at John with her most seductive expression, says they are perfect. Two bedrooms down, two to go.
"OH!" she says, gleefully, "Look at that room! See how the beds are stacked up!"
"Those are bunk beds," the salesman explains, "Usually children sleep in them in a fairly small room. It is quite economical."
"I'll have one of those!" she announces.
John looks at her questioningly. "We do not have children in our group." "We have Eleanor and Bethiah!" she says, hardly masking her anger, "And they can just sleep stacked up for all I care. They get the bunk beds and the lamps with the little sailboats!"
John shakes his head. This is not going to go over very well.

One more bedroom to go.
"Hmmmmmm," Rosamond chews her lips, "This will be my room....." and walks around more deliberately, looking at the best of the room arrangements.
"Look at that heavenly bed," she tells John, meaning more than just those five words.
"I'll take it. It looks like you could sleep an army in it."
"That's a king sized bed, madame," the salesman explains.
"Perfect!! King! How appropriate!" then whispers to John, "Don't you dare tell William what this bed is called or I'll have to fight him for it."
"But William already has a room of great furniture, Rosamond, as do I, and now, you as well, but I worry about Eleanor and Bethiah. What will they think when they see their small room with the stacked up beds?" Rosamond gives a wicked laugh. "Don't you even concern your little brain about it, John!" she says gaily.
Soon they have the entire house chosen. Every room. The only choice John is still concerned about is the room with the bunk beds. He knows there will be fireworks over that one.

The store next door is also enormous and displays the most beautiful linens, blankets, and housewares. Rosamond chooses lavishly. She asks the salesperson which are the best cooking pots and is shown a complete set that costs six hundred dollars. That sounds reasonable to her. She also buys the most expensive crystal and china. Always in great number. If ten towels are good, 20 are better, and 30 are the best. She chooses sumptuous bedspreads and blankets, except for the bunk beds, which get things to match the lamp with the sailboats. She is laughing so hard when she instructs the salesman to add them to the list, she can hardly stop.

The sales are toted up, the Am-Ex card profferred, and away they go to meet the others.
"I thought that Am-Ex card was full," John remarks.
"I got another one!" she tells him happily, "It came in the mail. Said I had already qualified. See??" and she waves the card in front of him. Sure enough, her name is printed on it.
"You will be responsible for paying if your name is on it, Rosamond," he tells her.
"Oh no no no" Rosamond shakes her head, "William has to pay. William is responsible."
"Not if your name is on the card!" insists John.
"Listen, John," she stops and stands toe to toe with him, staring up into his face, "I know about these things. A woman can always pass the bill on to a man, especially a man like William!"
John is appalled.

At the restaurant, the five time travelers, now employed time travelers, put their pay checks in front of William.
"How much is a lot??" Rosamond asks him.
"Is my check a good one, William?" Bethiah asks timidly.
"Bet mine is the best of all," Eleanor brags.
"Will you CHILDREN please stop it?!" William is becoming angry. "We are not going to get into a contest to see who makes the most money. I do, though, if you must know, but I have added them all together and we not only can pay off the Plaza Hotel, but easily cover the rent at the house in Chappaqua, and if in two weeks we receive this much money again, we can cover the downpayment and the furniture. What did the cost of the furniture add up to, Rosamond?"
Rosamond is pulling papers out of her purse, tossing them in a pile on the table. William straightens them out and begins adding again.
"How did you spend 500,000 on furnishings, Rosamond?" he is becoming irate.
"You never heard of thrift? No, I don't suppose you have."
"Oh yes, I know about thrift, William, and you will see little touches of it here and there when the beds arrive tomorrow." With that she gives John a meaningful look and smirks.

This is the be their last night at the Plaza. They are experiencing various levels of excitement, a bit of nervousness, and a feeling that living up in Westchester County will be another huge adjustment. How right they are!!


Part 49.........Lost in America..............by Coralynn

It is Saturday and as our group arrives at their new house, the furniture is just being carried in. Rosamond runs ahead of the others and tells the delivery men how to position this couch here and that one over there, and be sure to put the very large bed in this room, pointing to her own. The others stay outside, as there isn't much room with all that furniture going in constantly.

"This is going to be most enjoyable," William tells them, looking around at the well manicured lawn and tall sweeping trees.
"I want to see my bedroom!" Eleanor says impatiently, "I need a rest after that ride up from the City. Your idea of hiring a large car and driver was good, William, but how are we going to get around the town if we cannot walk to everything? I wonder how far it is to buy food, and how far it is to the King's house. We may need one of those cars. I would like to learn how to make one go down the road."
"All in good time, Eleanor," William assures her, as he notices three women approaching them.
"Hello, new neighbors!" they greet Eleanor and William.
"We are Betty, Nancy and Delores. I live next door, Nancy lives across the street, and Delores lives next door to me. We would like to bring you some dinner tonight, being your first night at your new home. The Phillips were very nice people and we were sorry to see them go. Their house is in immaculate condition. Did you notice the cute little attic? Their daughter, Emily, used to play up there with my daughter Sally. Such good memories....."
The woman continues to regale them with stories of the neighborhood, and would be at it to this day were it not for one of the other women who finally breaks in and says, "Can we give you a housewarming party in about a week after you're settled in?"
William does not remember hearing the word 'housewarming' before. Nor does Eleanor or John or Bethiah.
"The house is quite warm already," Eleanor comments, "but then, it is summer after all."
"What a delightful sense of humor your wife has!" she laughs, addressing William.
"Ohhhh, she's....." he begins, then thinks better of it and reaches over and pulls her to his side, ".....a fun lady to have around."
Eleanor shoots him a look of shock. NO! She will not pose as his wife; has he gone mad?
"Are these your children?" Nancy asks, motioning toward John and Bethiah.
"Why yes, they are," William begins, "from my first marriage. Poor Gwendolyn passed on, bless her heart, and now......" he gestures to Eleanor, "I am blissfully married to Eleanor.: With that he glances lovingly into her face while she tries to bare her teeth at him so that he will see, but not the neighbor ladies.
Delores looks closely at William. "You look familiar, very familiar........"
Nancy claps her hands and declares, "You're William the Conquering Chef from the cooking show! How exciting. Wait till I tell the others we have a famous neighbor! This is too exciting!"

By this time most of the furniture is installed in the house, and Rosamond walks outside to see what the talking is all about.
The neighbor ladies look at her and try to figure out how she fits into this family scenario.
Eleanor senses that and tells them,
"This is Rosie the Maid. Rosie, these kind ladies are Betty, Nancy and Delores."
The three women don't look convinced.
"Haven't I seen YOU on television, too?" Nancy asks.
Rosamond is thrilled. At last, someone who may be a fan of hers!! "Yes, I am Daisy on 'As the Planet Turns,' " she tells them.
Nancy seens excited but the other two women are drawing a blank.
"She plays Daisy the prostitute!" she fills them in, "Haven't you been watching? It is getting very exciting now that Dudley may be slapped with a paternity suit by Patsy, the Minister's daughter."
The other two women try to look interested, but it doesn't work.
Still......one fan is more than Rosamond knew she had yesterday!

"We will leave you to get settled," Betty says as the women begin to walk away, "Be back later with your dinner!"
"Thank you so much," Eleanor smiles, which she really does mean. There is no food in the house that she knows of. Perhaps tomorrow she can find some or send Bethiah. Yes, Bethiah knows how to cook. Thank God someone does. William may be paid a large amount of money to do so on a TV show, but that isn't real food, though the housewives in the area are knocking themselves out trying to duplicate his high-jinks. Burying a pig's head.........really!

The neighbor ladies retreat and Rosamond, in her excitement, almost dances into the house, followed by Eleanor and William. But where is Bethiah?
"Where is Bethiah?" Eleanor asks Rosamond, as they pause before entering the house. "She was with us outside but now I don't see her. Did she come inside; have you seen her?"
"She may be taking a walk," Rosamond tells them. "She was here for just a minute and then said she needed some exercise. I'm sure she'll be back soon. But....never mind, look at the house now!!"
They enter and are amazed at how totally furnished the place looks.
There are leather couches and chairs, so inviting that Eleanor sits upon one. She sinks down into the ultrasoft leather, but then complains, "I cannot arise from this couch, Rosie. I am sunk down too far. What were you thinking?"
"The salesman said they were opulent. Doesn't that word mean the best?" Rosamond asks.
"In a way, I supose," William answers, "but these may be too soft for some of us."
"No problem!" Rosamond says gleefully, extending a hand to Eleanor, yanking her from the couch, "I also bought a couple of these!" she motions toward two large stuffed chairs. "Sit upon these and you will have no trouble getting back up!"
Both of the others wonder what she's up to, but sit on the chairs in curiosity if nothing else.
They seem to be quite comfortable. William wonders what the levers on the side are for. "What are these for?" he asks.
Rosamond walks to the chair Eleanor is occupying and flips a lever, which all but throws Eleanor across the room. The chair has tipped up and hurled her on to her feet, then almost on to her knees.
"Merciful Heavens!" William is shocked.
Rosamond explains, "These chairs are especially made for old people who have a problem standing up from a nice, opulent chair or couch, and I can see I made a wise purchase. Eleanor and William, these are your designated seats in the parlor."
She goes on,
"I have also put name plaques on the bedroom doors with large printing on them so that you old people can see them clearly. Are they not lovely? See, Eleanor? This one says Eleanor and Bethiah."
"I thought I might get a room to myself," Eleanor complains, "As I shared a room at the hotel. Not that Bethiah is a problem to me. I just thought the privacy might be nice. Royalty does not share well, and don't you forget it, Rosie!" she gives her a meaningful look.
But, when the door to her room is opened, Eleanor gasps in dismay.
"What are THOSE?!" she motions to the bunk beds replete with bedspreads adorned with sailboats.
"Those are your beds, of course," Rosamond replies, and flounces away.
"William! I did not know we would all have our beds one atop the other. Is this some new idea in home furnishing in this century?"
She quickly checks out the other three bedrooms. Each one has a large bed with a lovely spread plus drapes at the windows to rival those at the Plaza.

Eleanor seethes.
"Can't you see what she has done?" she demands of William. "I will not put up with this! These beds must go back!"
Rosamond plays her ace, "Remember the night but a few weeks ago now, though it seems more like years, when you made me sleep on the floor, Eleanor? I got almost no sleep that night, and all because you were being a witch. Now it's your turn to get the lowliest bed. It is only fair."

William mumbles something to Eleanor about looking into her complaint at a later date, but for now she would have to made do with what she has.
They tour the rest of the house, which looks surprisingly good.
Apparently Rosamond does have a flair for decorating. William is a bit concerned about the plethora of huge, thick towels, and the set of 75 matching pots and pans of the finest quality. He is beginning to understand why the bill was half a million dollars.

"Shouldn't Bethiah be back by now?" he asks the women.
"You would think so," Eleanor is beginning to be concerned.
Just then they see a car pulling up the drive. It stops and Bethiah steps out. She seems to be talking in an amimated manner to the driver, who then cuts the motor and also emerges. The two walk up to the house, chatting away like old friends.
"Who might HE be?" Rosamond is perring out the window curtains. William knows who he is, but is going to resist telling her, as this could be very interesting indeed and he doesn't want to miss the fun.
Bethiah and the man enter the house, still talking and laughing.
"Oh Bill!" she chortles, "You rascal! You know so many interesting stories!"
She then notices the others.
"Bill, this is William, Eleanor and Beth, and John is outside cutting wood. This is Bill!" she tells the others.
"Bill? Just Bill?!" Eleanor's curiosity is not assuaged.
"What is your surname, Bill?" Bethiah inquires, "I never did think to find out. We were having such a rollicking good time, though. What difference does it make?"
The man with the sandy colored hair is embarrased, as he now has to divulge his identity and he was hoping she would do it for him. "Clinton," he tells them.
"Bill Clinton," Eleanor mouths the words without any recognition.
William can't stand it a minute longer, "He is the ex-President you wanted to meet, Eleanor!"
Her mouth flies open. After she recovers from the shock she curtsies and holds out her hand.
William rolls his eyes. Here we go! he thinks to himself.
Bill takes her hand and plants a soft kiss upon it. She then stands up and is so overcome that she cannot speak.
"Come on, Bill!" Bethiah pulls him by the hand, "You must see what a glorious job Rosamond has done decorating our house! See the kitchen, see all the pots and pans? Do you know how to cook, Bill? I could use some lessons, as my skills are so basic."
From the next room the others hear reference made to collard greens and pork rinds, and all manner of unfamiliar names for food.
Eleanor is staring a hole in William's head.
"That is the King!" she seems to have found her voice, "And he is here! and he with with Bethiah! I cannot believe this. Listen to her prattle on and on with him. She has no idea what a royal person he is. This is disgraceful!"
"Now, now, Eleanor," William pats her back a few times, "Bill is enjoying himself. Can't you hear how he and Bethiah are comparing recipes? Hmmmmmm, mayhap he has one for me that I can feature on my show. I would ask one thing of you, Eleanor. Stop referring to him as the KING! America never had a King. They threw out the British back over 250 years ago and have been self governing ever since!"
"Threw out the British?" Eleanor is confused, "You mean OUR country, William? They threw them out?! Will they now turn on us and throw us out?!"
"Nonono," he assures her, "they like us now. Long as we don't try to run their country for them, we are fine. But they have never had a King. They have a President, and every four years they get to vote on who will be President next."
Eleanor shakes her head.
The peasants don't vote on who should be King, so why should they vote for this President person, it makes no sense to her.
She shrugs and sits on one of the chairs with the levers.

They hear John coming in the back door, and soon he and Bill are laughing and having an animated conversation.
"You speak with a bit of a British accent, John," Bill notices, "Are you from England?"
"Yes and no," John begins, and it's at that point that William realizes John may well give away the century to which he belongs, so William hurries into the kitchen and joins the group.
"I recognize you now!" Bill laughs, extending a hand, clasping William's. "You have a great cooking show on TV. I have watched it all week. I have told all my friends to watch it as well. You are a gifted comic! Did you get your start at Second City?"
William has no idea what Second City is, so he nods and hopes the subject goes away.
Bill glances at his watch and tells them, "I can see I've overstayed my welcome. It's about dinnertime and I should be off. I hope you will accept a dinner invitation from Hillary and me soon. She should be back from Washington for a long weekend, well, next weekend, so that's a week from now. Will you come? I'm sure she would be thrilled to meet you." Everyone nods in agreement. Bill smiles widely and walks to the door, the others walking right behind him as if they were still hoping for more conversation. He finally steps outside, tips his hand to his head in a salute, gets in his car, and is gone.

Eleanor can hardly contain herself. "Hillary must be the Queen!" she says excitedly.
William collapses on one of the couches, sighs, rolls his eyes heavenward, and all but disappears within the soft folds of leather.


Part 50: Henry V111: Groovin' at the Funky Butt...by Terri

Henry squints his eyes up at the gas streetlights. The air is hot and humid.
A carriage comes rumbling by. Henry has just enough time to dive into the gutter.
He steps in...damn those horses! Where in blazes am I? he wonders. Knowing that every city had a village church, Henry heads to Jackson Square. In front of St Louis Cathedral, Henry passes two nuns.
"Excuse me, sisters , could you please tell me where I am?" Sister Mary Margaret looks at Sister Margaret Mary. "Just look at his clothes--he must have wandered off Bourbon Street and passed out in the alley. I guess he slept through Mardi Gras."
Henry looks puzzled. Mardi Gras? Sister Mary Margaret clears her throat and says in a kindly voice, "Why you poor soul--I guess you had too much celebration. You slept right through the King Rex parade. Did you fall off your float?"
Henry is bewildered. "What day is this?"
Sister Margaret Mary says, "Why, it is Ash Wednesday--the first day of Lent! You had better get to Mass."
Henry backs off. "Sorry--but I am not Catholic!
"Oh, what a shame!" The nuns cry in unison.
"But can you tell me what year this is and where I am?"
Margaret Mary whispers to Mary Margaret, "I guess the poor soul must have hit his head when he fell off the float." In a patronizing voice, she says, "My dear man, this is New Orleans and the year is 1910." By now the nuns are enunciating slowly, treating Henry like he is an idiot. Henry just walks off--what went wrong? I took the coin to the goldsmith....If I ever get back, that goldsmith will spend his short eternity in the Tower! Henry fumes.
Henry starts walking up the street. He cuts through Pirate's Alley next to the church. He approaches a street cleaner. "Excuse me, sir..." The street cleaner looks him up and down. "Suh, Mardi Gras is done over. You'd best get outta dem clothes afore you gets locked up." Henry looks at himself. But this was a decent doublet! Deciding he had better fit in, he asks the street cleaner, "Where might I find proper raiment for this time period?"
The street cleaner looks puzzled. "Well, suh, I 'spect I'd go home to change but iffen yo' is lookin' to buy, I suggest yo' go to Royal Street. Next block over."
Henry heads to a haberdashery and goes in. The gentleman, a distinguished looking man in his 60's bustles over to Henry.
"Ah, Monsieur, too much celebration, n'est-ce pas? And you do not want Madame to see you in such a disarray..she will think you cherchez amore elsewhere?"
Henry bristls---French! Always thinking of affaires de couer! Henry draws himself up--better to play the game than explain! "Oui, Monsieur, avez-vous une chemise et un pantalon?"
The clerk rolls his eyes, "Ah, Monsieur, perhaps we should speak in English, n'est-ce pas? Pardonment, mais votre accent est terrible!"
Henry shruggs. Who cares, he thinks----French! Bah! The only thing good about them are their wine and their women. Women! Henry is starting to perk up.
The clerk outfitts Henry in several outfits, complete with a cravat and a bowler hat.
"Au revoir, Monsier Tudor--I am about to close up. Merci pour votre patronage!"
Henry grunts a good-bye but can't resist a sneak peak at himself in the store window. Not too shabby, he thinks! This might be a lark, staying here for a week, then searching down the five others.
Henry starts walking down North Rampart. From inside a hole in the wall, he hears music--a very different kind of music, but music nonetheless. Henry's feet start tapping. He looks up and sees the sign. "Funky Butt", it reads. Henry lets himself inside. On the stage are five men of color. Wondrous sounds are coming out of their shiny instruments.
"Well, folks, we gots ta take a break! Be back in 15 minutes."
Henry sits at the bar. The bartender leans over to him.
"Hey, boss-man, what it be?"
Henry doesn't know what to order. "Surprise me," he tells him. The bartender winks, "I fix you up real good, suh--knock you on yo' funky butt!"
The bartender mixes an absinthe frappe. Henry takes a big swallow and starts choking. After the heat goes down, Henry relaxes...and REALLY relaxes.
The band stands up to play. "Any requests?" the bandleader shouts. Henry sways. "Sir, I am something of a composer. Might I try my lyrics on you?"
The band leader gives Henry a clap on the shoulders. "Sure, dude, how about b-flat, a good old jazz key?"
Henry stands up and clears his throat. The room is silent. He announces, "This is a sonnet I composed as my Jane lay dying after childbirth."
And he starts in:
Alas! Not a soul to converse with I am a solitary figure I stroll alone, but I find the exquisite delight of solitude I dost commit no err as I have put my love in safekeeping for thee.
Yea, I am completely devoted to dear one I am done with the vagarities of love For you occupy my very dreams I sin not for you have the key to my treasured heart.
Nay, I do not keep time with the owls, I care not for gaiety I repose by evening dusk, alone with the music of my soul. For you I am disposed of the frivolity of affection.

Henry sits down. The band stands with their mouths open. The silence fills the room.
Perplexed, Henry orders another absinthe frappe. The band just shruggs their shoulders and start in on a tune that really jammed.
After the musical set, the leader comes over to Henry.
"That was music like we ain't never seen at the Funky Butt! Ummm--come over to the piano. Maybe we can make it do-able."
With that, the leader starts tinkering with the ivory keys and starts singing,
No one to talk with All by myself No one to walk with, but I'm happy on the shelf Ain't misbehavin' saving my love for you
I know for certain the one I love I'm through with flirtin' It's you I'm thinkin' of Ain't misbehavin', saving my love for you
Don't stay out late, don't care to go I'm in bed by eight, Just me and my radio Ain't misbehavin', saving my love for you.

Henry gulps. it all sounded so different, so....carefree! He sticks out his hand.
"Henry Tudor's my name."
The black man takes his hand and shakes it. "My name is Thomas Waller....but most folks call me Fats!"
Then Fats lets out a belly laugh he could feel right down to his toes.
"I'm from Harlem, but I'm visiting my cousin. Keep tryin,' man --you got good ideas, just got to get them into the groove, man. Keep it real, dude!"
With that he puts his piano bench on top of his piano and leaves the club.
A tall slender man,impeccably dressed, seeks Henry out. "Man, that was something else- talk about poetry!"
Henry flushes, "Thank you, sir. It was an old sonnet composed at a dark time in my life."
The man smiles, showing diamonds in his front teeth.
"Yeah, man, everyone get the Louisiana blues, What ya do about it is what counts!"
The man shakes Henry's hand. "My name is Ferdinand Joseph Lamothe....but you can call me Jelly Roll Morton!"

"Jelly Roll? What sort of a name is that? Italian? Spanish?"
Jelly Roll just laughs. "No, I used to have a vaudeville duo with some dude named Sammy Russell. Sam told me once, 'you don't know who you're talking to'. I told him I didn't care and we had a little argument. I finally asked him who was he and he stated to me he was 'Sweet Papa Cream Puff, right outa the bakery shop'. That seemed to produce a big laugh on stage. While I was standing there muggin', a thought came to me that I better say something about the bakery shop. So I said I was Sweet Papa Jelly Roll, with stove pipes in my hips and all the women in town was dying to turn my damper down! Guess the name stuck."
Henry is confused...and amused. "So Mr. Roll Morton, where do you live?" Jelly Roll just smiles. "Just call me Jelly. Gotta part time job playing piano at Hilma Burt's brothel. Out in Storyville."
"Storyville? Brothel? What's that?" Henry asks.
Jelly just looks at him, "Lord, boy, did you just fall off a turnip truck? Storyville is what we call the red light district."
"Red light?"
Jelly winks. "You know, man, ..."
Henry just shakes his head. Jelly explains, "Back about 13 years ago, this here alderman named Story tried to clean up the city. He couldn't do anything about the ladies and their business so he relegated it to an 18 block area over by Basin Street.
The folks got the last laugh, though--named the section Storyville after that uptight puritan. Right nice area, though--parlors with chandeliers, and every establishment has a piano. Plus the fringe benefits aren't too shabby, either!"
"Fringe benefits?" Henry is really in the dark now.
Jelly just rolls his eyes. "Aw, come on, man, dude of the world like yourself-do I have to spell it out? These ladies rent by the half hour!" It finally dawns on Henry. "You mean there are damsels out there that will accomodate for a few shillings?"
"Shillings? Hey, if you can spend it here, they can 'accomodate'! Where you from, anyways? New England? Those uptight people with the brass belt buckles that they wear on their hats?"
Henry bristles, "I don't now how you get 'old' or 'new' England, but I hail from London."
Jelly snorts back a laugh. "Well, that 'splains it! Man, you are in the cosmopolitan area of the world! We got white, colored, French, Spanish, mixed, Creole...whatever your little ol' heart desires! Good piano player can make more than the girls. If the girls have a good night, so does the piano player. Most of the dudes that go here are half stewed and the drunker they are, the more money they tip. The customer and the girl will drink and make love while the piano player plays some slow blues. If I make less than a hundred, it's a bad night!"

Henry stands up to leave. "Well, Jelly, I should be going...but where I don't know. Do you know of a good inn where I may rent a room? " Jelly says, "Inn, nothin, boy! It's the day after Mardi Gras! Ain't nothing going to be available in the Quarter. Tell you what..Hilma's a good woman. Fix you right up..with a room of course! Fringe benefits you fix for yourself!" Jelly winks.
As Jelly and Henry walk down the street, Henry is amazed at the sights, sounds, and smells of the city. The people of all sorts of ethnic backgrounds mixing with one another, the melody of a different languages and culture. and the smell of the river and Creole cooking. He breathes deeply, appreciating the culture he is absorbing and broadening his horizons.
Jelly leads him up to a house that says "Burt's Boarding House" There was a red light by the door. Jelly opens the door without knocking.
Inside the bright lights, Henry blinks. For he is in a room the likes of which he has never seen before. The walls are papered with silk. There is a chandelier with hundreds of twinkling lights. Couches are everywhere, in red velvet. But what stops him dead in his tracks are the women. Powdered and perfumed, in lace and satin, every variety and size. For dear Henry thinks he has died and gone to heaven!


Part 51: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous ............... by Coralynn

"Up you get!!" Rosamond says cheerily as she pops her head into the room Eleanor and Bethiah share.
"Go away!" Eleanor yells, as she throws a pillow at Bethiah, who ducks back out of the room just in time to avoid a direct hit.
"We're all walking to the Grand Union," Rosamond announces from outside the closed door. "We need food. We need a Sunday paper."
Bethiah and Eleanor both groan. Neither has had the best night of sleep on the bunk beds, which seem to have been made for children.
"We're awake, now," Bethiah says, "Might as well get up and see what the day may bring. I don't mind walking to that store for food. We may meet up with Bill again this way, too. What say you, Eleanor?"
"I say we get a car!" Eleanor answers. "I told Wililam I want to learn to make one go down the road. We can't walk everywhere."
Obviously there is no car on that Sunday morning, so everyone dresses and meets in the kitchen.
"We have coffee!" William tells them, "It will help you feel awake. Here, have some!"
"This is swill," Eleanor says after tasting it, "I want tea. Or mead. Or something I recognize."
"But you love the 21st Century," Rosamond chides, "And this is what they drink here. Coffee. Get used to it."
John is finishing up his second cup and goes to the sink to rinse out his mug.
"I'm all ready to go on our hike, so what say we get going before the sun becomes too hot?"
They all exit the house and start walking down the road.
Eleanor catches up with William and again asks for a car.
"You have to have a license to drive one," he tells her. "And you have to take lessons to learn how to properly operate such a motor vehicle, otherwise you could get yourself or someone else killed."
"Ohhhh I could certainly do that latter part, especially after the horrible night of sleep I had on that bunk bed!" Eleanor rubs the small of her back. "Those beds must go back to the store."
"That room is too small for two regular beds, though," William says, "One person could occupy the room with a normal bed, but not two." "OK, then, ROSIE can have it with the one bed, and Bethiah and I shall take the room she has now and put two beds in that. It's certainly large enough!" Eleanor feels good that she has figured it out.
William is troubled over that suggestion. "This will cause hard feelings," he tells her.
"Hard?!" HARD?! You talk about hard?? You should sleep on a bunk bed and you would find out what the word hard is all about. I know Rosamond will scream and yell, but it is the only fair thing to do."
"I think we shall have to call a meeting when we get back from the store," William concludes, hoping that the group can come up with a solution so that he doesn't get blamed if Eleanor's idea is implemented.

As they enter the Grand Union grocery store, Bethiah's eyes become large and round, as this is the first modern grocery store she has ever seen.
"This is too vast," she comments, "There are too many choices. How do we know which to choose?" she looks at William for guidance.
"Let's just start in and see," he says as he takes one of the shopping carts from the rack. "We'll start at the right and work our way to the left. OH, and we must not forget to buy a newspaper."
They all follow behind him as he starts in the dairy aisle.
"There's a big pile of paper over there!" Behiah tells them, "I shall take one. This is the newspaper you spoke of?" She holds up a thick copy of the Sunday NYTimes.
William nods yes.
Looking at them from the front page is a large picture of William, which Rosamond notices first. "LOOK! It's you, William!"
Under his picture there is a good sized article, titled "William the Conquering Chef Takes New York by Storm!"
Eleanor snatches up that part of the paper and begins reading avidly and loudly,
"After just one week on morning television, William the Conquering Chef has racked up the highest rating of any new show in television history. Both women and men are tuning it in at 10:30 every day to see what entertaining concoction this Chef with the Medieval flair may think up. It is being shown in every nursing home in the area as well; seems the oldsters feel more invigorated just from watching this lively show. The prisons have also added it to their list of approved TV fare. The 30-minutes it is on the air is the only time the prisoners quiet down and stop screaming invectives at the guards. It is also shown in mental wards as even the most disturbed patients are riveted by William. Zoos are finding that the animals are so fascinated by this show that the level of noise drops dramatically when it is shown to them. There is even a bill being intoduced in Congress this week making it mandatory viewing for all elected government officials, especially the Senate and the House of Representatives.
Fan clubs have sprung up all over the country. Trade talk is that the show may go to an hour to more satisfy the huge interest in the new Culinary Guru."
"What's a guru?" Rosamond asks.
"Who knows?" William answers, but is not concerned. He is glowing with pride.
Eleanor's reading aloiud has attracted attention, and, as the other shoppers turn in the direction of her voice, they see William and gasp and start takling amongst themselves.
"Is that him?" "Do you really think that's him?" "Does he live around here?"
These snippets of conversation reach William's ears and he gives the women clustered about in groups a benign smile.
"That has to be him!" is heard.
No one approaches William directly, but, as our group moves through the super market, they are trailed all the way by about 20 women.
If William puts a certain product in his shopping cart, the 20 women follow suit.
It gets to be a game, at least to William. He buys 18 cans of chili powder, and they do the same. He puts 6 boxes of Capt Crunch cereal in the cart and they also put exactly 6 boxes of it in theirs. As an experiment, he buys 3 cans of Alpo dog food and they imitate it to the letter.
"Why are you buying a product with the picture of a dog on the cover?" Bethiah inquires of him. "I would like to have a dog, but we don't have one yet."
He laughs. "Are you not noticing how those ladies behind us are buying every single thing we buy?" he asks her.
She looks into their cart, then back at the other carts and begins to laugh.

It takes a while, but they choose what William thinks necessary, and make their way to the check-out counter. The ladies who have imitated William line up behind.
There is a familiar face working the checkout line. Our time travelers can't place the face until the man speaks.
"Hey! Youse the folk I had in my cab a couple weeks back! Ha'wa'ya?"
"Why, it's Vinnie Paponetti!" Eleanor declares, "What are you doing here?"
"My wife was worried about me driving cab," he explains, "So I'm working here and driving a bus, too. You know, there's a bus that takes folks from the town ta' the station ta get the train ta Manhattan. Nicer clientele, I'll tell ya. Some are pruddy swank!"
"How wonderful! We can take your bus starting tomorrow!" Eleanor smiles, "Though I really would prefer a car of my own."
"Don't be too eager ta drive, lady," Vinnie advises her, "Ya cud get yerself or someone else kilt."
She sighs. Where has she heard that line before?
"Youse guys moved here?" he asks, but, not waiting for a reply, goes on, "The missus and I moved here a long time ago before da prices went trooo da ceiling."
Prices through the celing?! Bethiah wonders how she will ever understand the odd speech of these 21st century people.
"Here youse are, all bagged up and ready to roll," Vinnie shoves 5 bags full of groceries into their cart.
William hands out one bag per person. Rosamond is aghast.
"I cannot carry this all that ways, William......"
"OH my dears, you poor things, you must not carry those heavy bags," a woman steps over to Rosamond, "I'll just give you a lift home"
William would have objected had it not been such a good idea. He can see that Rosamond and perhaps even Bethiah would have a hard time with heavy bags.

The group follows the woman out to the parking lot.
"Just put them in the back of the station wagon," she tells them, "and climb in; there's plenty of room. Ohhhhh, William, you sit up front with me!"
As the woman drives down the road, Eleanor leans over the back seat and asks her to explain everything she is doing to "make the car go down the road" as she so quaintly puts it. This frustrates the woman, who only wants to smooze with William.
"This is your house, then?" she asks, after following William's directions, "I would love to see how tastefully you have it decorated. You being a celebrity and all, William."
"We aren't quite settled in yet," he says as he hauls the bags out of the back of the station wagon, handing them off to the others as rapidly as possible so that he can avoid any more contact with this woman who obviously wants to get inside the house so she can tell all her friends what it's like.
There are people like her in every generation, William muses in his mind, people who must rub shoulders with the higher classes. If this woman had any idea who they really were, it would be disastrous. He slams shut the back hatch and waves goodbye, saying thank you, thank you, and is relieved when she backs out and leaves.

"That was close," William tells them as they unload the groceries, "I am obviously going to be a target for these "fans" as they call them. If you get too well-known your life isn't your own anymore! Wonder how Bill handles it?"
"How does Bill handle what?" Bethiah asks.
"Being famous!"
"Oh, is he famous?"
"He spent 8 years as the most powerful person in the world, Bethiah!"
"Really??"
"Wherever he goes, people know who he is. Interesting thing, too, his real given name is William."
Bethiah looks puzzled, "But he said his name was Bill!"
"Bill is short for William," our fearless leader tells her kindly. "What is it with people named William anyway? We have power thrust at us. We have no privacy. We are magnets for everyone in the world. Fans mill around us, be we President or King!"
He is getting himself all worked up over this. He hadn't realized that being on television was going to make people follow him everywhere he went.
"Speaking of King, William," Eleanor asks, "Who IS King in England right now?"
"Queen," he answers, "Queen Elizabeth the second .
Has been Queen for about 50 years. Used to be a pretty young woman, but now people are waiting for her to give it up and let her grandson take over as Monarch."
"What might his name be?" Bethiah asks, just making conversation.
"William!! His name is William! God help him!" and with that our William draws the blinds and sinks down into one of the opulent leather sofas.

William does not get to sit very long, as Eleanor announces "Meeting! In the dining room!"
Everyone except William wonders what this is all about.
Nonetheless, they gather around the solid cherry dining room table.
William sits in the chair at the head of said table and begins, "We have a few problems that we need to address......"
Eleanor cuts in, "First, it makes no sense to shove two people into a small bedroom when the large bedrooms only have one person apiece. My suggestion is that Rosamond take the room Bethiah and I share, and that we buy two medium-sized beds for the room she has purloined for herself so that Bethiah and I can get a decent night of sleep."
"Is there any discusion of this issue?" William asks the group.
John spends a few minutes mulling it over in his mind, and says, "You make a lot of sense, Eleanor. It would be a better arrangement....."
"I like my room, I want my room, you can't have my room!" Rosamond hits the table with her fist, "And what are you doing taking their side, John? You are hurting my feelings......you like Bethiah more than you like me....." and with that she begins to cry.
"I think Eleanor's idea is fair." John says simply.
"You hate me! You want to drive me away! You want to put me out of the house!"

William has had enough of her tantrum.
"No one is putting you out of the house, Rosamond. We are simply re-arranging the sleeping rooms. I think John's ideas are sound." William is so glad that John gets to be in the middle of the storm and not himself. "Shall we vote?"
The others nod, and he asks for a show of hands of all who think the rooms should be switched. Three hands shoot up.
"Three is a majority," he announces, thinking this is terrific as he doesn't even have to be a tie-breaker.
"Any other issues?" he asks, knowing that there are none, but to his surprise Eleanor begins,
"William, you are not to pass me off as your wife to the neighbors and to the King and Queen next weekend.........ooops,. I mean Bill & Hillary......You had a lot of nerve telling those women we were married. How do I get out of this mess? Not for one moment am I going to play-act that I am your wife! What say you?!
"ohhhhhhh," William rubs his head, "I thought it would answer the neighbors' questions about what family structure we had. hmmmmm, this may have been a mistake..."
"You can say THAT again!" Eleanor storms. Now she is in her glory.
William has actually said he made a mistake? Never in his life has he ever admitted to making a mistake.
"You have till this Thursday evening, when the neighbors are coming over for the Housewarming, to think a way out of it, William. Good luck to you! Also, tomorrow I am calling the furniture movers to take that bunk bed atrocity out of here, as well as that monstrously large bed Rosie has, replacing all three with Medium, I said Medium sized beds."
William nods his agreement.
"All in favor?"
The same three hands go up.
Rosamond has turned a ghastly shade, as red, then white, then back to red, chase each other across her tear streaked face. She puts her head down on the table against her arms and cries and moans and occasionally looks up to see if this is having any effect. The others leave the room. She looks up and finds no one watching; no one is even there. John was right the day they were in the furniture store choosing beds saying this would cause big problems, but she was so In Charge. William put her In Charge. No one had ever put her In Charge of anything before, and didn't she have the right to do it her way, since she was In Charge? Guess not; Eleanor just comes along and rips her victory away from her. Well, Rosamond thinks, I'll bide my time and find a way to get back at her, and when she least expects it. That makes Rosamond smile, She gets up from the chair and walks outside for a refreshing stroll. The air is most pleasant and her mood lifts, but she is still thinking of ways to get back at Eleanor. Some good idea will come along, she is sure.

A car is coming up the driveway. Hmmmmm, that one looks familiar. Oh yes, it's Bill. Good.
"HI BILL!" she waves, as he stops and gets out of the car.
"Hi again, Rose," Bill is smiling, "Is the rest of your family home?"
"We are not a family," Rosamond says defiantly, "In fact, some of us have been kidnapped from our real homes. Eleanor is the king-pin of a Syndicate that deals in prostitution!" Rosamond remembers something she saw on TV about such a thing and is glad she remembers enough of it to make her case to Bill.
He seems shocked.
"Eleanor?"
"Yes, Eleanor. She is part of a terrorist gang that operates out of Iran or Iraq or one of those places. She deals in human flesh!" Rosamond is gleeful she is nailing that witch Eleanor once and for all.
Bill laughs. "You are a terrific actress, Rose. Now I remember it; you are on As The Planet Turns. Is the plot going to involve these horrible things you speak about? What a wild plot twist that would be! I promise not to tell anyone. Don't want to spoil the surprise! Is Bethiah home?"
Rosamond is so frustrated she can hardly stand it. He doesn't believe her. Why won't people take her seriously?
"Ohhhhhhhhh yeah," she tells Bill, "everyone is home, even Eleanor!!"
He laughs again and pats her head (how she hates that!) and follows her into the house.
"Bill! Good to see you again," Bethiah calls out.
"I brought you a book of old American recipes," he tells her, handing her a handsome volume with Early American art work on the cover. She takes it from him and admire the beauty of the book.
Eleanor enters the room, and upon seeing Bill, is determined to speak up this time and not become overwhelmed with awe.
"How glorious to see you again," she begins, thinking that she should at least use flowery language, even if William has forbidden her to curtesy anymore. "I wanted to ask an expert; how does one go about learning to drive a car? You appear to drive yours so well."
"Well, let me tell you, Eleanor," he explains, "Cars are very powerful machines, and if you have never driven one, you must realize that you could get yourself or other people killed if you don't...."
"I know!" she almost finishes the sentence for him.
Is no one in favor of her driving a car? Why can't she? Look at those peasant ladies who drive them all the time.
"Are peasants better at driving cars than royalty?!" she inquires, very seriously.
"I'm afraid I don't understand the question......" Bill is trying, but this line of conversation is getting strange.
John bounds into the kitchen making enough noise so that Bill and Eleanor's conversation is fortuantely broken up.
"HI!" John pops his head into the living room, "Good to see you, Bill! Anything interesting going on? Did you see the newspaper with William's picture on the front. Wasn't that incredible?"
"I saw that!" Bill agrees, "And to have such illustrious neighbors has brightened my days! I did drop around to ask if next Saturday evening would be convenient for you to have dinner with Hillary and me at our house."
"You must come to the housewarming Thursday night as well!" Eleanor announces.
"We may not be able to make that, but we are both tickled pink to have you visit us," Bill says as he sees everyone nodding yes, or at least smiling like they agree.
"See you Saturday, then," he smiles as he goes out the door, "8 O'clock!"


Part 52: "Creoles, Concubines and Congo Square!".....by Terri

Hilma Burt hurries to greet Jelly and Henry. "My lands, Jelly, I thought you'd never get here--the Funky Butt really jumpin' tonight? You try to sell your songs? Oh, and who might this gentleman be, cher?"
Jelly turns to Henry. "May I present Mr. Henry Tudor, newly arrived from the Continent."
Hilma Burt is a handsome woman. Coal black hair pomaded and piercing black eyes. Henry extends his hand. "How do you do, Madam?"
Hilma bursts out laughing. "Madam is right! What does your little heart desire, Mr. Tudor? Whatever you want....we got it!"
Henry swallows. "First off I could do with a good meal."
Hilma smiles. "Best Creole cooking this side of the Mississippi." She rings a bell.
"Sam, please fix Mr. Tudor up with some gumbo and then give him the 'mud bug'special."
Sam, as dark a person as Henry ever saw, smiles warmly. "Yessum, fix him right up, Miss Hilma." Sam scurries into the kitchen. Hilma leads Henry to a table. "First get some good Looziana home cooking down your gullet, then we work on your other appetite!"
Within minutes, Sam sits a steaming bowl of soup before Henry along with a loaf of bread with a light glossy crust. Henry digs in, then immediately begins to choke.
Jelly starts to laugh. "Got to watch out fo' them spices. Clean yo' brains out 'for you know it!" Henry brakes off a piece of bread. It is the best he ever tasted, light and white and not a bit like the bread that was as hard as a brick back at Windsor.
He is hungrier than he thought. As he finishes the gumbo, Sam brings out a platter with little white larvae and.....insects with antennas! Henry gasps."I am NOT going to eat roaches!" Jelly and Sam double over in laughter. Jelly wipes his eyes, and says, "Yo, man! this is what we call 'dem crayfish" Bite them heads off and suck them dry, boy!" Henry looks dubious. "I don't know, Jelly."
Jelly explains, "They ain't bugs, man...this is what we call fruit de mer. Fruit of the sea. Don' you have seafood in London?" Henry scowls. "Yes, but they have fins, not antennas."
Jelly and Sam lean forward. "C'mon man, we dare ya!"
Henry tentatively brings the 'fruit de mer' towards his lips. Bravely he stiffens his spine and bites in. His eyes grow round. "Exquisite! Delectable! But what are these things that look like maggots?" Sam shakes his head. "That is our #2 crop--rice! Don't you have that in London?"
Henry mumbles, "My mum was strictly a meat person. Not much room for variety.'
By the end of the meal, Henry has cleaned his plate three times. A light meal for him, he thinks. For dessert, Hilma brings out bread pudding. "It's our specialty..chase it down with chicory coffee au lait." Henry is completely sold on Creole cooking. Hilma smiles, "Tomorrow we serve blackened redfish. Come in for the treat of your life! As for treats, since you are new in town, perhaps you would like a little companionship for the evening. At wholesale, our way of saying 'bon jour' . Oh, Lulu! come meet Mr. Tudor, newly arrived in our fair city."

Lulu comes over to Henry. Henry's mouth drops open. Lulu is wearing a black satin dress. Henry stares in wonder. Were those lace bloomers he detected? And stockings held up by some sort of....contraption with hooks? Lulu is delectable, a scent of rosewater and jasmine wafting from her decolletee. Henry has never seen such a desirable creature in all his life. It's a good thing Rosamond is in the 21st century. She could learn a thing or two about public relations from Hilma and Lulu. There would be no stopping Rosamond here!
Lulu speaks in a soft drawl. "Ah, bon soir Monsieur Too-dair. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. May I offer you a snifter of our finest cognac? "
Henry is mesmerized and before he knows it, he is passed out in a brass bed.
Lulu just smiles sadly at his limp form. "Ahhh, Monsieur Too-dair. You missed the opportunity of a lifetime, never to be offered again. It is how you say? Expired?!"
With that Lulu closes the door and goes into the parlor.
The next morning, Henry wakes with a furry tongue and a stomach on fire. Jelly sticks his head in. "You got the N'Awlins flu I reckon! Make the yaller fever look like a head cold!" Henry splashes water over his face. "What a night! Lulu was a treasure and we took exquisite delight in each other! What a charming songbird she is. I think she is in love with me." Jelly just smiles. He did not have the heart to tell him that when Lulu came down,she just said it was a 'fait un-accompli' and it was back to business as usual for Lulu.
Jelly Roll tells Henry he has to go about the Quarter on business but he plans to be back at the Funky Butt that evening. "Why don't you sightsee and I will meet you there at 8:00 PM? There is a big clock on the St Louis Cathedral and you can't miss it. If you ever get mislaid, uh, I mean misplaced in the Quarter, just head for Jackson Square, get your bearings and you start all over again."
Henry agrees. He goes to the Cafe du Monde. "Serving since 1861" the sign says.
He orders the cafe au lait and the beignets. Piping hot crumpets, he thinks.
He takes a bite. Several young people watching burst out laughing at him. Henry sits there with a face full of powdered sugar, in his beard and moustache. As he wipes the powder from his face, he gazes towards the River. He ambles over and sits on the banks, watching the paddlewheel steamboats churning up the brown water. What a wondrous land this is! Lacy iron balconies hug the stucco walls. The people mixed and mingled together--and what people they were! Frenchmen, Spaniards, Creoles, people of colour--all speaking in musical tongues. Women of culture dressed in their finest, with parasols and buggies. Exotic women of colour with tignons tied on their heads, with beads and swathed in colorful silk. He spends all day going up and down the streets--drinking in their sights and sounds. Pretty soon the thoughts of the five travelers he sought dimmed. I could get used to this, he thinks.
I could even forget about merrie old England!
Seeing as it is Sunday, the bells of St Louis Cathedral ring out. Henry is beginning to feel a little ashamed of himself for destroying the Catholic faith in his homeland. It had such a spiritual feeling, the Cathedral.
Walking up St Peter Street, before too long Henry hears a commotion. As he hurries, he becomes part of a crowd of 500 or so onlookers. Henry stares in amazement. For he has discovered Congo Square!
There it was--a grassy plain on the northwestern edge of the city where the city fathers had permitted the slaves to dance and sing for a few hours on Sunday. Even though they were slaves no more, they still held to the tradition.
The slave dances at Congo Square and the music that accompanied them, filled the air with rhythm, seeming to provide a window to the world of the Africa they left.
And some of those who had danced in the early years of the city really had been brought from West Africa in chains. To these people and their succeeding generations, music and dance were part of their everyday life. Henry could see this.
This was all so exciting to him. The music pulsated everyhere, a strange blend of Caribbean and whatever. Like their religion. Henry could not figure that out. St Louis Cathedral played such a prominent role in their lives. Yet Henry saw the very ones who came out of the Cathedral furtively walk over to Marie Laveau--known as the Voodoo Queen.
Henry reveled in the music and rhythm. It was unlike any of the sonnets that he had written. Those sounded more like a lovesick fool. These sounds, well, rocked!
Henry stared, mesmerized at the musicians and the women garbed in flowing silk of colours unimaginable. They swayed and shook to the music. Right then Henry knew what he wanted. He wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to live the very music that he heard. He hurried over to the Funky Butt in search of Jelly Roll Morton. Henry was wheezing, he was so out of breath. "Jelly Roll Morton, I want to play with you. I will study hard, but this is something I was born to do. No more sonnets! I want to feel the music, have it ooze from my pores, I want to..."
Jelly held up his hand. "Whoa, man, not so fast! Have you any experience?"
Henry was at last catching his breath. "I used to play the trumpet that they would use for heralding royalty. I was not too bad."
Jelly Roll handed over a bright shiny trumpet. "Let's see how you can wail on this. If you do an OK job, you can jam with us tonight!"
Henry picked up the instrument. Never before had he seen anything so lovely.
But when he put it to his lips, he and the trumpet were one. The sound was a clear as a bell and sweet to Henry's ears.
Jelly let out a low whistle. "Man, you were born to play!"
Jelly Roll grabbed Henry by the arm and dragged him over to his group. "Men, I would like to introduce you to our new trumpet player. May I present....
TOOTS TUDOR!"


Part 53.....The Housewarming.............by Coralynn

"Tomorrow night all those neighbors will be over for what they call a housewarming," Eleanor addresses the group, "Do any of you have any idea what we DO at something like this? Do we serve food? Do we get all dressed up? What? I never heard of anything like a housewarming back at Court."
Bethiah tries to think of something in her timeframe that could have been similar.
"We used to take a loaf of bread or a jug of cider to new neighbors," she remembers, "but we never had a party, not that I can remember, though Caleb would have put an end to any idea of having fun. Actually, we had no fun at all. Wonder why that was."
William answers, "You must remember that the Puritans were a very strict lot, Bethiah, and did not traffic in what anyone would consider 'fun.' What a dreadful time for you to have lived. Are you happy to be away from it?"
"I am joyous!!" Bethiah jumps up and does a little dance around the room, "I get to earn money, I get to wear bluejeans when I get home from work, and who knows what other wonders await......"
"How about learning to drive a car??" Eleanor urges her on. "I am learning how to drive, and right now my teacher is pulling up in front, so ta ta, I am off!"
No one in the group is aware that Eleanor is taking driving lessons, and they rush to the window to see her run to the car and hop in.
"Who could be so foolish as to be giving Eleanor driving lessons?!" William is upset.
They continue looking, and sure enough, it is Vinnie Paponetti's wife, Sheila. They met her at the store the night before and wondered at the time why she and Eleanor were huddled together, whispering.
The vehicle lurches suddenly forward, then stops abruptly, then again jumps forward. Bethiah covers her eyes. "I cannot look!" she cries. The vehicle proceeds down the road in a stop/start fashion till it is out of sight.
"Leave it to Eleanor to run out on us while we plan our party!" Rosamond snaps, "First I lose my beautiful bedroom, and now I'm stuck with the party planning. OK, then, I am In Charge.
John and William have no ideas about a housewarming, and Bethiah seems to be as confused as they are, so Rosamond takes over.
"We shall have mead, first and foremost," she begins, "Anyone know how to make mead? William? Didn't you make it on your television show this week?"
"Well, yes, I made it, but afterward I tasted the brew and it was horrible," he confesses, "I think you have to let it age or something. There are housewives all over the country now making this bitter drink and serving it, thinking surely it is the most desirable beverage on the planet. I shudder. One taste and they will pour the rest down the drain."
"Too bad, too bad," Rosamond decides, "If you had this on your tv show, we shall make it, also. Do you think a touch of cinnamon would help it be more palatable?"
William shrugs his shoulders.
Rosamond writes something down about the mead.
"Will not the neighbors be bringing the meal, or whatever it is people eat at housewarmings?" Bethiah asks.
Everyone nods, as it sounds like a strong possibility.

"NOW," Rosamond In Charge is feeling like an executive, "As for our apparel. Shall we wear ball gowns? No, not you, John and William, you can wear those suits you bought back when we first arrived. Bethiah, what color is your gown?"
"I have a red one, a blue one, a green one and a........"
Rosamond interrupts, "HOW did you get so many?! I have one. ONE!" "Eleanor bought them for me; said we would paint the town red, whatever that means."
"And, pray tell, how many did Eleanor buy for herself?"
"I think she has a purple one, a yellow one, a red one, a black one, and a......."
Rosamond is incensed, "William! What is going on here? Why do these two women have all these clothes and I have almost nothing? You said we were on a budget, did you not?"
"I did."
Before Rosamond has time to lace into William any further they hear a screeeching sound out in front of the house.
Looks like Eleanor is back from her first driving lesson. She bounds happily into the house and announces, "OK, I learned how to make a car go down the road, now I shall buy one so that I can go places without having to walk." She is in a cheerful mood. She obviously thinks one lesson is all it takes.
"We are on a budget," Rosamond begins, "And you have used up your share on BALLgowns!!"
Eleanor grabs William and swings him around playfully. "la de da de dah" she sings to a little tune as she dances with William, or rather she dances while he stands there wondering what's going on.
"William????" Rosamond intones, as she wants him to get back in charge and chastise Eleanor.
She is beginning to think that William is somewhat intimidated by Eleanor, as he lets her do anything, buy anything she wants, but reminds everyone else not to overspend. This situation is making Rosamond bitter, and she again begins to think of ways to retaliate.
"Ohhhhh, and Eleanor," she sweetly informs her, "We are wearing bluejeans at the housewarming. Just thought you should know."

William is putting the finishing touches on the mead.
The pinch of cinnamon did help, and he's hoping it will not make anyone sick. None of these 21st century people know what mead tastes like anyway, he figures, so, here goes nothing!!
Eleanor has just returned from her second driving lesson in as many days and is all glow with the thrill of it all.
"I can now make that car go very fast, William," she brags, "And I can stop on a dime."
"On a what?!"
"A dime! You don't pick up the vernacular very well, do you, William? We must learn to speak the way the 21st century people speak. You said we must blend in, remember? I think I do very well!!"
He nods, just to get her to leave him alone. Since she has made it her mission to own a car, she has talked of little else.
"Isn't it about time to get dressed for the party?" William asks her, "I know I must clean up; can't be seen all spattered with mead after all."
"I'm already dressed for the party," Eleanor informs him, "Rosamond said bluejeans. Well, these are jeans and they are blue. I'm set!"
He begins to disagree, then decides to just go clean up as it won't be more than another ten minutes before the first guests arrive.
Eleanor pokes her head into the bedroom she shares with Bethiah and sees the poor woman struggling into a ball gown.
"No, no!" she hurries over to her, "We're wearing jeans! Just a minute, I think I hear someone arriving, be right back."
Eleanor goes to the door and several couples enter. Of the three women, two are wearing bluejeans and the other a sundress.
She greets them warmly and motions them toward William, who has now reemerged all cleaned up.
"Have some mead," she offers them, then dashes back into the bedroom.
"Bluejeans, Bethiah," she tells her, "No ball gowns. Change quickly and come out. There are more people arriving. I wonder if the entire town is going to turn out. Wouldn't surprise me considering what a celebrity William is these days!!"
Sheila and Vinnie come through the door and Eleanor rushes over to them, hugging and talking and laughing. How wonderful to have someone there she already knows.
Sheila takes her aside and confides, "I hear there is a most eligible bachelor in your neighborhood. Steven Wood, a lawyer who just moved here from Boston. I think you single gals might be interested. He is far and away the most handsome man I have ever seen!"
"Really?!" Eleanor is intrigued. "Let me know when he gets here. This could be very interesting. The most handsome man you have........"
at that she stops, as the most incredible looking man has just entered the house, carrying several wrapped packages. She swiftly joins him and smiles,
"I am Eleanor; welcome to our home!"
The man smiles and the room lights up, "I'm Steven Wood, and I'm so glad to meet you. Someone told me that you are all pretty famous people. Aren't you Eleanor of the Renaissance Festival?"
Eleanor blushes.
Now, Eleanor does not blush, not ever.
But she has never seen a man with such charisma, such charm, such muscles, good grief, which Greek God is missing?
"Yes, I am in the Renaissance Festival," she says demurely.
Now, Eleanor is not demure.
She has never been demure.
But she has never been in the presence of a man of such magnificence.
"I live but three houses from you," Steven tells her, "And I've seen you come and go. You have William the Conquering Chef also, at least it looks like him from a distance. Is he your husband?"
"No, no, not at all," Eleanor is flustered.
Now, Eleanor does not get flustered, it is not in her nature.
But this man is melting her down into a pool right there on the floor.
She sees Steven look across the room and her gaze follows to where he is looking.
There is Rosamond, emerging from her bedroom, bedecked in the most elaborate gown Eleanor has ever seen. It is bright purple and encrusted with pearls, diamonds, probably cubic zirconia, but who cares. She has what looks to be the largest emerald ring known to mankind on her right hand.
People begin to clap.
"Gone With the Wind!" someone guesses, as though they were playing a game of charades.
Rosamond scans the group and sees that she is the only one dressed in that manner and, with a flush on her face and fear in her eyes, quickly retreats into her bedroom again.
"Who was that?" Steven asks Eleanor.
"That's Rose, our resident tart," Eleanor tells him with glee, "We let her live here. She has a job on a Soap Opera on TV. Very low class."
Steven's face registers nothing she can read.
"I must greet some of the other guests, " she tells him reluctantly.
Now, Eleanor is not a reluctant person, not a bit,
but she does not want to leave this great looking man. However, William is gesturing to her to do Hostess honors, so she begins to mingle and greet the others.
Bethiah and John are talking with a group of young couples, asking them about the town and where the best restaurants are, when Steven Wood sees Bethiah and is almost instantly smitten.
He works his way around the room till he is standing in their conversational circle.
"Do you have children?" he drops the question into the conversation as though he has been there all along.
"Oh my no," Bethiah answers, "I am not married. Do you have children?"
"No, I am single as well. Are you one of the family here?"
"Yes, though we are not really related. We all know each other well, and have decided to pool our money so that we can live in a nice house."
"A commune?" Steven is curious. "I recall they had communes all over the place when I was a child. Some very odd things went on in those places......."
"Nothing odd is going on here," Bethiah says innocently.
"No, no, I did not mean to imply that anything odd was going on with you!" he quickly makes sure she doesn't think he means her living arrangement.
Bethiah is becoming very warm in this man's presence. She feels like grabbing a magazine to fan herself. By all the Gods, this is the best looking man in Christendom! As she smiles up at him he takes her arm and leads her to the side of the room where they can talk more privately.

The door to Rosamond's room flies open with a bang. She strides out, head held high, defiant look on her face. She wants to smack that witch Eleanor for setting her up to look like a fool wearing that ballgown. She knows Eleanor set her up. But wait........she thought she had set Eleanor up, not the reverse. Oh why, oh why did everything have to go Eleanor's way?


Part 54......more housewarming............by Coralynn

Steven and Bethiah are so caught up in each other's magnetism that they hardly notice Rosamond entering the room, but she strides up to them as her antennae are always scanning for good looking men.
She looks up at Steven with awe. Why, she wonders, is this man wasting his time with Bethiah?
He hardly notices she's there. She smiles. He gives her a cursory nod and goes back to talking with Bethiah.
This is not her night!!
She is not sure what her next move is going to be, but at that moment she hears a group of people speculating on the relationships between the "family" who lives here, some saying one thing, others saying something completely different.
She joins that group. Hmmmmmm, now how can I put Eleanor back in her place, she wonders.
A short, pudgy man says "I think William and Eleanor are married and the others are relatives," The lady with the huge hornrimmed glasses interrupts, "No, I think John is married to Rose, or is it Beth?" "I think they're all single," puts in the woman with hair piled high on her head like an old country-western singer.
Eleanor is standing nearby and overhears. She marches over to William and demands, "Everyone is trying to figure out if anyone is married to anyone else in the house, William, and you must put an end to it!" She does not want that gorgeous Steven man to think she's married, heaven forbid.
Eleanor clinks a fork against a goblet and brings everyone to attention. "William has an announcement," she tells them.
Turning to William, trying to appear nonplussed, she directs him, "Now, please tell all these nice people that we are not man and wife."
William looks at the group, noticing the neighbors he had lied to the other night.
This is embarrassing.
"I am sorry if, in my attempt to be humorous, I gave anyone the impression that Eleanor and I are married. Actually, we are all single." This is met with some conversational buzzing, things like "why did he tell us that, then?" being heard.
William feels he needs to explain more fully.
"This is an unusual situation. We are all related; our gr/gr/Uncle died, leaving us several million dollars, with the stipulation that we all had to buy a house together."
"Odd" and "now that's different" comments are heard.
"Now, let us partake of the grand feast brought by Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Greene!"
and with that William ushers them all into the dining room, which is set with a Medieval Theme.
"Oooooo and Ahhhhhhhhh" are heard. The guests feel like they have just stepped into William's cooking show.
At the head of each place setting is a frosty mug of mead.
As the guests are seated around the very large table, Ron Hammond, the most extroverted of the men, stands, holding aloft his mug of mead, and says, clearly and with great ringing tones: "A toast to our Hosts!! May you live happily in our neighborhood and may you prosper! Health and Happiness!"
The others echo his last few words and put the mugs to their lips.
A pall of silence descends upon the room.
Ever so slowly the guests swallow.
Ever so carefully they replac the mugs in their original positions at the top of the settings.
Ever so cautiously the guests look one to another and try not to register how bitter and just plain awful the drink is.
William, still standing, drains his entire mug. "Ahhhhhhhh," he sighs in satisfaction, sitting again in his chair at the head of the table. He looks about him to see how much the others enjoyed theirs. By that time they have composed their faces and all smile back, as "Delicious!" and "Bravo!" is heard.

The rest of the evening goes without any major hitches. William has not lost face as a Medieval Chef (methinks because of the "Emperor's New Clothes" syndrome) and now that he doesn't have to explain the relationships between the house occupants, he is off that hook. Conversation flows though the mead does not. Little by little people manage to avail themselves of water from the kitchen. The sound of the ice-maker dropping clink-clink ice into glasses, then the whoosh of water, almost becomes like background music.

As all parties must, this one ends, and as one couple after the other exit, they compliment the Hosts lavishly, inviting them to come visit, and all those things people say whether they mean them or not. Soon there is no one left but William and Eleanor and Rosamond and John. They yawn, sit on the couches, kick off their shoes, and feel relieved that the evening has gone so well.
"Uhhhhhhhh, where is Bethiah?" Eleanor asks.
"Wasn't she here a minute ago?" Rosamond ponders.
"I hadn't noticed," is John's contribution.
Eleanor and Rosamond exhange knowing glances.
Rosamond walks over to the door, flips the lock, and says with a flounce of her head, "Hope she has a key with her!"

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