Free A Catered Wedding by Isis Crawford

company.”
    Sean grunted. “It depends on the definition you give to high class.”
    â€œThat’s a rather dyspeptic view.”
    â€œNice word,” Sean told him. “Bernie would approve.”
    â€œShe ought to. I got it from the Learn a Word a Day calendar that she gave me last Christmas. But you’re right. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with those people,” Clyde said. “In my experience taking statements from the rich and famous is never anything but a pain in the butt. They think they own everything and everybody.”
    â€œMaybe because they do,” Sean said. He studied a squirrel scurrying across the cable wire outside his window for a moment before continuing. “The girls wouldn’t even have this job if it weren’t for the Walker sisters. I told Rose those women are nothing but trouble. Have been ever since I’ve known them.”
    â€œAren’t they the anarchists?” Clyde asked.
    â€œMarxists,” Sean corrected.
    â€œWhat’s the difference?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Sean admitted. “I keep forgetting.” Of course, Bernie would know. So would his wife for that matter. If she were alive he could have asked her.
    Clyde frowned and waved his hand impatiently. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. My question is what are the Walker sisters doing with people like the Raids? I would have thought they would have steered clear of people like that.”
    â€œThey’re related to the bride in some distant way,” Sean replied. “And they were friends with the groom’s parents. I think they shared a railroad flat on the Lower East Side with them at some point or other.”
    Libby had explained it to him, but he’d be damned if he could remember what she’d said. That kind of family stuff—who was related to whom—didn’t interest him a whole heck of a lot.
    Now it was Clyde’s turn to grunt. Both men remained silent as they imagined the scene that must be unfolding at the Raid Estate. Sean stared out the window for a few seconds, before turning and facing Clyde again. Suddenly he was tired of his bedroom, tired of the view out his window, tired of hearing everything second hand, tired of relying on his daughters—they should be relying on him.
    He was especially tired, if he was being honest with himself, of being at the mercy of his daughters’ whims, especially the most recent one. He didn’t need any strange female traipsing in and out of his bedroom, thank you very much. He’d loved his wife, but now she was gone and as far as he was concerned that part of his life was over and done with.
    â€œDo you think you could get this wheelchair downstairs?” he asked Clyde impulsively, surprised at the words that were coming out of his mouth.
    â€œDon’t see why not,” Clyde said. “That’s what you have that riding seat contraption for.”
    â€œI’m thinkin’ maybe we should take a drive over to the Raid Estate and see what’s what.”
    This time both of Clyde’s eyebrows shot up.
    â€œWhat’s the big deal?” Sean said.
    â€œThe big deal is that people have been trying to pry you out of this place for three years, and you’ve flat out refused to go.”
    Sean shrugged. “My girls need my help.”
    Clyde chuckled. “No, they don’t. They can do just fine without you. They already proved that.” Then Clyde stopped speaking. A look of comprehension crossed his face. “This isn’t about them, is it? You’re just using them as an excuse.”
    Sean began studying his bedspread.
    â€œIf I recollect, isn’t Ina Sullivan supposed to be coming over to make you a late lunch?” Clyde asked him.
    Sean tried to look as if he didn’t know what Clyde was talking about. “How should I know? My daughters set things like that up.”
    â€œIna’s a nice