Chapter Text
Milton Heights was very much like any other neighborhood, really.
About twenty years ago, it had been swallowed into the city proper, making its property values jut sky-high, even as long-time residents grumbled about traffic and noise pollution. It had its idiosyncrasies, of course, but most places did.
It was a beautiful series of blocks of single family houses and duplexes on one side of the street and combinations of townhouses perched on the slight hill of the other side. The streets were lined with large trees that made the sidewalks writhe from beneath with their deep roots, and in the summer, spring peepers out-sung the faint city noises until the crickets came to take over. It was a close-knit and social community, most of the inhabitants retirees.
Down the way a bit, the Bonfamille mansion presided over Milton Heights, making the area practically reek of old money. In the newer section of the neighborhood, the elementary school, library, and community center reigned supreme on most aspects of community life.
With that elderly element in place and the reputation the area had for hospitality, along its very own noble family, one might think that Milton Heights was the very seat and definition of stalwart propriety.
And one would not be wrong.
--
“My dear?” Mr. Grasshopper asked, as he held open the cabinets of Mrs. Ladybug’s pantry, looking for tea. “Do I want to know why you have a Horny Goat Weed tea?”
The merry widow popped her head around the doorway of her sun room, giggling. “Why, I must have something to serve the postman when he comes to ‘visit,’ Mr. Grasshopper!”
Mr. Grasshopper snorted good-naturedly, filling the teapot with water and listening to the sound of Ms. Kluck’s laughter from the sun room.
“Ooh, you are too, too bad, Mrs. Ladybug!” their neighbor said, waving a lacy hand-fan at her chest and neck.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Ladybug tutted, patting a spot beside her on her loveseat for Mr. Grasshopper. He flicked his coattails out of the way and sat down, crossing one impossibly long leg over the other. “At least I’m not a political dissident, like you!”
“I’ll have you know that if you’re not angry about politics, you aren’t paying attention,” sniffed Ms. Kluck, a twinkle in her eye. “Besides, it gives me something to connect with Marian over.”
“Ah, of course. And how is little Marian?” Mrs. Ladybug asked. “Our James will be over to visit quite soon, and your dear niece is always one of his favorite playmates.”
“She won her tennis tournament last semester,” Ms. Kluck replied, preening a little. “We are very proud of her! And I do believe she has a gentleman friend, if you know what I mean.”
“Ooh, you must be careful, now,” Mrs. Ladybug said in cautionary tones. “The youth today, you know, so quick to run into things...”
“Not like us,” said Mr. Grasshopper in a dry tone, making the ladies giggle.
A few houses away, the coughing roar of a lawn mower ripped through the early Saturday morning air. Mr. Grasshopper winced and removed his monocle, polishing it as he went to retrieve the steeped tea.
“Oh, dear Mr. Rabbit is at it again,” Mrs. Ladybug sighed. “Such a lovely garden he has. But it’s much too early in the morning for that kind of ruckus!”
“If you ask me,” said Ms. Kluck in the tones of one who has never before not been happy to be asked her opinion, “he does it for attention.”
“Klucky! You bad girl,” giggled Mrs. Ladybug. “I know just what you mean--that strapping young neighbor of his! Do you think they’re getting along?”
“I scarcely see how they could,” Ms. Kluck murmured. “Different as night and day! Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Grasshopper--ah, this isn’t Buggy’s Horny tea, is it?”
“I shouldn’t like to deplete Mrs. Ladybug’s resources so,” Mr. Grasshopper smirked, as Mrs. Ladybug reached over to playfully swat Ms. Kluck’s arm. “Besides, I am sure we none of us need any encouragement.”
“To say the least! I can only hope that the street festival might bring in a little fresh blood, now that Buggy’s snapped up all the daily visitors!”
“Oh, I have not, either!” protested Mrs. Ladybug, waving a hand. “I’m just being friendly!”
“Quite friendly,” Mr. Grasshopper pointed out.
“Almost as friendly as you and that roughneck fellow that trims the hedges,” Mrs. Ladybug smirked, ribbing him in the side. Mr. Grasshopper’s teacup and saucer clattered.
“Ooh, the one with the cigar?” Ms. Kluck asked delightedly. “Mr. G, you dirty old fox.”
Mr. Grasshopper sipped his tea with a gesture of immense dignity. “We have many differences of opinion that make for compelling conversation,” he said stiffly. “Nothing more, I assure you ladies.”
“Sounds like a cry for help, Klucky,” Mrs. Ladybug tittered.
“Granted, almost everything does,” Ms. Kluck replied. “But I agree with you here! Don’t you worry, Mr. Grasshopper--we’ll help you in your troubles.”
Mr. Grasshopper sighed indulgently as the ladies snickered.
--
Adelaide Bonfamille did not consider that being an old woman was at all a bad thing, really. Why, the things one got away with when would was in one’s later years--it boggled the mind! She certainly never could’ve done half the things she did now when she was a young girl.
Frou-Frou, her secretary and driver, was still laughing. “Oh, Madame, you are an absolute menace!” she said admiringly, as she opened the car door and helped Adelaide out.
Adelaide looked at the warning ticket they’d earned for doing seventy in a forty-five mile per hour zone and crumpled it. “Opera teaches you many things, my dear,” she said, “not the least of which is how to fake a seizure.”
“You’re awful, Madame,” Frou-Frou said, shaking her head as she opened the door for her lady. “I don’t think that police officer had the least idea what to do when you started shaking.”
Adelaide clucked her tongue and tossed the crushed warning into a wastebasket. “You’re quite right...I ought to donate a little more money to the municipal police force, oughtn’t I? Get them in a position where they can help little old ladies like me instead of standing there looking silly.” She checked her hair in the mirror and smiled. “Do phone up Georges for just that, won’t you, Frou-Frou?”
“Yes, Madame,” Frou-Frou said, bobbing a little curtsey. “I’ll send your grandchildren up when you are in your parlor.”
Adelaide smiled and ascended the steps. Nothing bad about being old, at all.
--
“Oh, Lady,” sighed Marian, as the two girls waited for the subway. A pair of suitcases accompanied each young woman, packed with all the essentials necessary for a stay with their uncles and aunts. “I’m completely certain he’s forgotten all about me by now. It’s been years now...who knows what he’s doing!”
Lady fidgeted with her golden locket thoughtfully. “I am decidedly of the opinion that you are unforgettable, Marian, and if he thinks you so, he’s not at all good enough for you. I do imagine we’ll run into him while we’re staying in the neighborhood, don’t you?”
“I hope so,” Marian murmured.
Lady nudged her in the side. “Buck up! If we don’t, you can always spend the day with Uncle Jock and Uncle Trusty and me! Uncle Trusty has promised to teach me how to shoot this year, and I’ll need help hiding that from Uncle Jock.”
Marian giggled. “Oh, Lady, you’re wicked! Do you think Aunt Kluck will take us to another political demonstration this year?”
“And teach us how to endure pepper spray?”
“And tell us--”
“--again!”
“--about that time she swore she saw Prince Charles at Woodstock?”
Lady laughed brightly. “It’ll be fun whether that young rapscallion of yours shows up or not. We always have so much fun together, anyway.”
As Lady gently clasped Marian’s hand, the redheaded young woman had to admit that that was very true.
--
Milton Heights was the very seat and definition of propriety.
After all, the greater part of propriety is hiding what you’re really up to.
It does help, however, to have friends to help you keep it discreet.