Warning: This story contains mature themes. Nothing graphic, of course, but it may not be to everyone's taste.
Posted on Wednesday, 6 April 2005
To: Tom (TRB3_00@yahoo.com);
Eddie (Lankylefty19@aol.com);
Maria (miss_mansfield622@hotmail.com);
Julia (shutterbug@BiteMe.com)From: Bert Bertram (Bertram1@BertramBeer.com)
Subject: The family gathering
My dear children, in the past we have come together for two weeks in December; however, with Maria's upcoming wedding in August, I've decided that we should go ahead and have our family gathering now. In fact, I think it would be a good idea for us to spend the summer together and help your mother and Aunt Kate with wedding arrangements. I will understand if there are a few events you absolutely cannot abandon, but I do expect all of you to be there for the bulk of the summer. We see each other so rarely that I feel this is necessary to bring us together as a family. This will also give Tom, Eddie, and Julia a chance to meet Michael and welcome him into our family.
Feel free to bring any significant others or friends you wish to invite. Your mother and I expect you to be at Mansfield Park no later than June 5. I know I'm asking a lot of you, but in the end I know we'll all look back and realize that it was worth it.
Your father.
As he clicked the mouse and sent his message to his four offspring, Thomas Ross Bertram II couldn't help thinking that life was good. He had turned sixty last winter and had celebrated in grand style, thanks to the efforts of his wife and sister-in-law. He hardly looked it, though. He ran five miles every day, worked out three times a week, watched what he ate, and had been granted rugged good looks by Mother Nature that time only enhanced. His hair had been a silvery-gray for years, his eyes a dark blue that could sparkle with good humor or turn cold in anger, depending on his mood.
He'd been called Bert long before he could walk. Sometimes he was called Big Bert and other times called less complimentary things. After his father's death when he was thirty-four, Bert had been the head of his family's business, Bertram Beer, Inc. In the years since he had taken over, Bert had fought hard to continue the long tradition of success. It hadn't been easy, or pretty, but he'd managed to do it. He had business offices all over the world, but he spent most of his time in the place where it had all began, in St. Louis. On this morning in mid-May, he was sitting in his luxurious office in the heart of New York. He might as well have been in St. Louis, however, because no matter where he was, the offices were decorated the same, right down to the pictures on the wall.
As he always did when thinking of his family, Bert looked at the pictures on the wall across from his desk with a smile. The wall was covered with pictures of him with various famous people he'd become friends with over the years. A few were of Bert with his bitter rivals, their smiles bright but fake. But his favorites were the ones he had told his secretary to put in the middle...those of his family.
His eyes were always drawn to the center picture, his wedding picture. Had it really been almost forty years since Melissa Ward had agreed to become his wife? She'd been the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen when they'd met by chance in New York. Melissa had been visiting relatives while he'd been there for business. One day, during a working lunch in Central Park, a sudden wind had ripped three very important documents out of his hands. In his panic, trying to reach for at least one of the papers, Bert had almost tripped over the young woman who had captured the other two. He'd fallen in love with the petite, dark-haired English girl immediately. They were married two months later.
If the marriage hadn't been everything he'd hoped it would be when they'd first married, well, Bert figured that it was as good as he was going to get. He still cared deeply for Melissa, but he knew that the burning-hot love had gone long ago. He knew Melissa felt the same way, because she had been the one to suggest separate bedrooms nearly fifteen years ago. Maybe some people in this day and age would've thought he should've divorced her, but Bert didn't see why. Melissa was beautiful, charming, and a credit to him when she was in public, which wasn't often. She made very few demands on him and was always glad to see him when he returned home from long business trips. Baser needs could be and were met discreetly, because it would never do to humiliate his wife. She was happy with their arrangement, as was he, so why ruin things?
Before the separate bedrooms, however, their marriage had produced four lovely and talented children, each of whom had a picture in the middle of his wall. The pictures were not of his children as babies or of them standing beside him at their graduations. Instead, each picture represented to him what his child had-or had not-accomplished with their lives.
The first picture, placed above the wedding picture, was of his oldest son, Thomas Ross Bertram III, grinning into the camera from a beach in Italy, although it could've been taken at just about any beach in Europe, for that's where Tom had been since he'd graduated from Princeton. Bert shook his head with disgust, because he couldn't understand why a young man with Tom's intelligence and grasp of business would willingly do nothing. He had finally settled in Italy with his lover, Sam. Bert had never had the chance to meet Sam even though Tom and Sam had been together for nearly four years. From his children's accounts, however, Sam was a friendly, attractive, and most of all, sensible young woman. Before meeting Sam, Tom had tended to be a profligate spender. Now, he stayed well within his allowance.
Bert thought of his plans for Tom, plans he intended to tell Tom of when he came for his sister's wedding. It was far past the time when Tom should start learning how Bertram Beer was run. After all, much though he might not want to admit it, Bert knew he wasn't always going to be around. If Tom didn't learn what he needed to know, and soon, the company would go down the tubes within a year of his death, because God knew none of his other children had an interest in the company.
Bert didn't mind so much that his daughters showed little interest in the company-after all, they were women and their most important function was to marry well-but when he thought of his second son, he couldn't help feeling disappointed that Eddie had shown no more interest in the family business than Tom had. Edmund Grant Bertram was just as smart as Tom, but his talents had always run toward the more physical. For the past twelve years, Eddie had been a star pitcher for the Kellynch Knights. He'd faced the likes of Alex Rodriguez and Barry Bonds and come out the victor. He was a four-time All-Star, two World Championship rings...well, Bert might've been disappointed that Eddie showed no interest in the company, but what father could've wanted more for his son than to be a champion athlete? If only Eddie had more success when it came to women. The picture Bert had of Eddie, placed to the right of the wedding picture, had been taken at Shea Stadium three years ago, when the Knights had played the Mets.
Then there were Bert's daughters. Maria Elizabeth Bertram was the older, and her posed studio shot, located directly below the wedding portrait, was the most glamorous of the four. But then, everything about Maria screamed glamour, and it always had. From the time she was seven, Maria had known that she wanted to be a model, and she had been determined enough to succeed. Not that it had been too difficult. Maria had always been so beautiful that she hadn't seemed real, just as her mother had been. But Maria wasn't some empty-headed model. Although she'd balked when Bert had insisted that she go to college, Maria had given in and had attended Columbia, where she'd gotten a degree in psychology. And along the way, she'd become one of the most sought-after models in the world. The only thing that had infuriated Bert was that Maria had changed her name, and now the world knew his daughter not as Maria Bertram, but as Mariah Mansfield. Despite all of his tactics, she had insisted on the name. Not legally, of course. Maria had known he'd never forgive her if she'd made it official, and so while the world knew her as Mariah and she preferred to be called that, she was still legally Maria Bertram.
It was because of Maria that he'd found his legitimate excuse to bring his family together for the summer. She was getting married at last, and not just to anyone. His daughter was marrying none other than Michael Rushworth, the famous actor she'd been dating for nearly a year. Rushworth might not be the brightest person in the world, something Bert had discovered the one time they'd met, but he obviously made Maria happy and he was a famous name. Bert had counted no fewer than six news articles about the upcoming wedding in which Bertram Beer was mentioned, which was free advertising for him. Yes, Bert was very pleased with what the future would hold for Maria.
His youngest child was Julia Ward Bertram, and her picture was placed to the right of the wedding portrait. Bert wasn't sure what to think of Julia and her life. From early childhood, she'd been the rebellious one. Julia had refused to have anything to do ladylike pursuits. She had been kicked out of three boarding schools until finally Bert had been forced to let her attend public school. Her friends had frustrated him. Her boyfriends had terrified him. Bert had lived in fear that someday, he would receive a phone call from the police telling him that Julia had been found dead in some ditch.
Yet somehow, Julia had managed to survive and had even found success. The great passion of her life was photography, and as the picture on the wall had been taken, Julia had been in the process of taking a picture of someone else. She'd made a name for herself and gained a reputation for being able to handle difficult people, including an infamous shoot involving her own sister. While Julia had found success, her life continued to frustrate her father. She still had frustrating friends, impossible boyfriends, and language which would make anyone blush.
Bert sighed and glanced at a few of the other pictures. There was a picture of his wife's sister, Kate, dressed in her maid-of-honor gown. Kate had been married all too briefly to Reverend James Norris, who had abandoned his wife of eight months for missionary work in some God-forsaken place in Africa. He'd never returned home, and Kate had never remarried. She had moved in with her sister and husband after James's disappearance and set out to make herself indispensable to them. It wasn't hard, given that after the birth of her last child, Melissa had been content to do little with herself and had passed control of her children over to Kate. Bert occasionally thought Kate was the most annoying woman on the planet, but she did keep things running efficiently in his home, so he put up with her.
Two other pictures caught Bert's eye, as they were placed on either side of Julia's picture. The first picture was of a young man in a Navy uniform with an American flag in the background. The young man was square-chinned with almost-black eyes that stared soberly into the camera. William Price was his name, and Bert never could see his picture without feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. Bert had arranged for William's placement at the naval academy, and the boy had never let him down. Lieutenant Price was currently somewhere in the Middle East with his dreams of one day becoming an Admiral.
The other picture was of William's younger sister, who had come to live with the Bertrams when she was ten. William and Frances had come to Bert's attention after their parents and younger sister, Susie, had been killed in a drunk driving accident. At the time, one of Melissa's few community service projects had been a fledgling M.A.D.D. program, and hearing the plight of the Price children, she'd suggested doing something for them. Kate had taken up the cause and told Bert about William's dreams of going to Annapolis and about little Frances, who had no one to take her in. Bert had eagerly helped out William but had his reservations about taking in Frances. In the end, Melissa had won him over and the girl came to live with them.
Frances had not stayed Frances for long, however. When introduced to the pale, trembling girl, Maria had boldly announced that Frances was an awful name and she wasn't going to call her by it. When pressed, Frances had admitted that her middle name was Delaney, which had been her mother's maiden name. Maria had declared that name to be perfect, and so from that day on, it was what she went by. Eighteen years later, even Bert had trouble sometimes remembering Delaney's first name.
In the picture, Delaney sat at a desk, surrounded by sheets of paper. She hadn't known she was being photographed when Julia had snapped the picture, so rather than looking directly into the camera she was staring down at the paper with a small frown on her face. Delaney wrote and illustrated children's books, a job which served two purposes: it gave her a career of her own while allowing her to remain living with the Bertrams, for Melissa depended greatly on the young woman.
Yes, Bert Bertram thought with a smile as he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, life was good. Soon his children would be home and the family would be together again.