Chapter 94

The winter and spring practically flew by with work, putting the final touches on the nursery, and Muller catering. Mary rented an industrial unit, hiring people to help Muller out. It’s all covered under Margomax. We jokingly refer to each invoice as “Frank’s concern.” He and Iris have started travelling, but Frank’s a Skype addict now. Margot likes to put him on mute while she watches his lips move.

She’s bilking the hell out of him. As she says, the man’s been bilking people for years. “I outta know,” she says, and does up another invoice on the new Margomax letterhead. Frank added an ivy green banner at the top. That’s just in case Margot forgets it’s his money she’s throwing around. She gave us bonuses last week. Frank just about had a fit. He called Margot an “old bat” before she put him on mute and mouthed the words, “Suck on it, Frank.”

We gather over at Frank’s on Friday nights, at least when Frank and Iris are in town. We’re getting pretty good at tangoing. Frank and Margot go out on the floor occasionally. It looks more like jitterbugging than a tango. Krupsky tries introducing some form, holding up Frank’s arm, turning his chin. Frank looks like he’s waiting for a snapshot.

It’s nice with the windows open, a breeze coming in off the lake. Iris still can’t overdo it. She likes to sit with Judy while Muller dances with Emma. Judy calls her Auntie Emma and Margot Auntie Margot and now Ruby’s Auntie Ruby. You’d think she’d have enough aunts, but now she’s calling Emma, Gramma Emma. It doesn’t seem to bother Emma one bit.

Max finished his business course and now has three people working for him, including Zack. We suspect Zack’s selling seafood out the back of the van again. It smells like a tuna boat.

Another bit of news: Max’s expanding into interior decorating with a woman he met on Otis’s show. He was filling in for Otis one night and she called in to say she liked Max’s choice of song, The Tempree’s “Dedicated to the One I Love.” It’s still early days in the romance department, but he brought her over once to Frank’s, and Krupsky got them doing a basic samba. Frank still calls Max a scheming little git, blaming him for his purple sweater smelling like a marsh. “I didn’t do anything to your stupid sweater,” Max says.

He doesn’t push it, though. Frank is paying for the House Manicure advertising, although he doesn’t know it. Margot slips everything through under general expenditures, something Frank suspects, but he’s too busy taking care of Iris.

Last month, we received three gold stars in one of the trade publications for “Best House Painters in North Chicago.” That brought in a lot of calls. We’ll be painting solidly right through the summer, then Iris wants us staining their decks up at Lake Geneva. Otis isn’t crazy about the idea, telling Ruby her absence will leave him “sorely in need of human interaction.” Margot says that’s a hoot. “You can’t even spell interaction,” she says.

Frank thinks he’s getting a deal on the staining, but Margot’s charging him through the nose. They argue over pricing while they dance. Sometimes Frank tries to strangle her. They end up smoking cigars on the patio.

The grass brownies are a thing of the past. Everyone’s been weaned off except Otis who’s been trying to bake them himself. They look like flattened turds. Bisquick won’t even touch them. “Ain’t we hoity toity,” Otis says. Bisquick doesn’t think much of Otis’s nipples now, either.