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From all Mrs. Ludlow had seen, the socially distanced meeting between her husband Capt. R.E. Ludlow, his business partner Sgt. Vincent Trent, and vending machine specialist John Ghent had gone well. She had gone out as a charming hostess with a platter full of mugs of her husband's best soda flavors as he said, – “Grab a mug, sir – any mug!” – and Mr. Ghent had said, “I like your confidence, Captain!”
Smiles all around – and from the looks of things through the kitchen window, he had swiftly come to terms after that with the president and vice president of Ludlow Bubbly Inc.
Nonetheless, Capt. Ludlow was not happy. His blue eyes were flashing as he walked up to the house, but he stopped on his porch to get himself together, and his wife loved him all the more for that … he was very disciplined about how he came to her and the seven grandchildren they were adopting, and worked hard to keep the rough, dangerous edge of his personality away from them.
Mrs. Ludlow met her husband with some cool mint tea, which he gratefully received, and let the cool and the menthol flow through him for a while before he spoke.
“I make good soda, and I know that,” he said, “and when things are better for getting together and competing for such things, I expect I will have the best in the county. But that does not account for John Ghent. All that man tastes is money. He didn't know Mulbery Rose from the Calm Mile, but he was begging us to fill a machine because he knows how it has been selling out. I hate making a deal with a man like that. He will throw us over the minute someone offers him more money to do so.”
“That contract has to be read carefully, then,” Mrs. Ludlow said.
“Indeed – and Sgt. Trent and I decided that we were going to play dumb and act like we weren't sure this was going to work because our soda is too new, so we could deal with the contract month-to-month for a while. Sgt. Trent says that Major J.P.P. Dubois's background is in JAG, and he is presently working as a lawyer in the county, so even if the partnership with his family's food service does not work out, it would be worth retaining him to look over Mr. Ghent's draft contract.”
“Sounds like a plan – more tea?”
“Please, Thalia, and thank you.”
“You know what, Robert?”
“What?”
“You think of yourself as an old soldier, and you should, but you get offended by the Mr. Ghents of the world because like all of your grandchildren, you are an artist with an artist's sensibiliites. They get that from you.”
Capt. Ludlow considered that a long time, and then laughed.
“Yes, I suppose I was about to have a tantrum like Lil' Robert would have if somebody didn't notice where he put the red Legos in his latest build!”
Lil' Robert, all of five years old, poked his head into the kitchen.
“Where the red Legos go is important!” he cried.
“You're right, and the same goes for the mulberries and the chamomile in the soda, Robert.”
“Of course it does! I don't understand some people!”
He stomped off, leaving his grandparents to fall all over the kitchen table and each other, silently laughing until they cried.
“Hitherto has the Lord helped those of us born Ludlow!” the grandfather said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Were it not for Covid, that money-focused man Ghent would have come in here and made some comment, and the eight of us would have just turned over the tables and ended that man before you could do anything about it, Thalia!”
“Y'all just gonna catch a case from Big Robert all the way done to Lil' Robert – I hope Major Dubois is a good lawyer, because y'all are gonna need one!” Mrs. Ludlow said just before she again caught the giggles and spread them to her husband all over again.
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