They discovered a mutual love of Scrabble, and this kept them entertained. Ingrid had suggested having Mable or Imogene bringing one of their granddaughters to tea, but Annie shyly declined. "I'll make friends my own age with school starts." she said vaguely, hastily finishing her grilled cheese sandwich. Grilled cheese sandwiches were one of the few dishes that Ingrid had complete mastery of, and so she clung to them as a lunch time staple. She'd scarcely dared touch a cookbook since the disastrous evening of Annie and Alice's arrival.
"Well, suit yourself." said Ingrid cheerfully. "I've got Crispin St. James coming to tea today. He's been pestering me over the phone. You'll enjoy that, I think."
"Oh, I thought I'd just prowl around up in the attic this afternoon, if that's all right with you." Annie said, quickly.
Ingrid chuckled. "You're too much like your reclusive old Aunt, child. Very well. But I warn you, you're missing a rare treat."
She had high hopes for the afternoon. Crispin was bringing Edith Baker over to sit in on another 'brainstorm'. He had yet to meet Annie, as his courting had kept him largely preoccupied. Ingrid was unabashedly looked forward to watching him squirm. Professing to love grandchildren was a very different thing from actually engaging with them. Crispin would have his work cut out for him there. Ingrid was morbidly curious to see how he'd manage in front of Edith.
Shortly before three o'clock, Edith Baker and her aging Romeo arrived.
"Come in, come in!" said Ingrid, meeting them at the door. This in itself seemed to take Crispin off guard. Normally he had to root her out of her study or garden on his own.
"Oh Miss Delaney, it's so kind of you to let me join in again." said Edith.
"Most kind old girl, most kind. I'm so sorry we're a bit early. We'd planned a spot of lunch at my humble abode, but Edward rang up to say that the whole squad were arriving home from Switzerland ahead of schedule. Skiing trip you know. Dashed odd, skiing in summer, what? I told Edith we'd best be on our way. Didn't want the children hopping about not helping their mother and father unpack. They're so dashed fond of their old grandpa, my presence would be sure to distract, and I know my dear daughter-in-law would wish them to be on hand to help. So I whisked Edith away just a touch early. Knew it wouldn't disturb a good old egg like you."
Edith smiled confusedly. "I did so want to meet those grandbabies. He's told me SO much about them. I really am looking forward to being introduced." she said, looking at Crispin in a meaning sort of way.
"In good time my dear, all in good time. I simply want you to meet them when they are at their best, don't you know."
"I'll bet you do." said Ingrid, finally managing to get a word in. "Won't you come in and have some tea?"
They all sat down to partake. Crispin began to gabble on about his many imagined brushes with the stars, and Edith sat listening in rapt attention, while Ingrid drew stick men and flowers on her memo pad. She was hoping that Annie's curiosity would get the better of her. She was totally unprepared for what happened next.
Just as Crispin was nearing the climax of a gripping drama including himself, John Wayne, and Claudette Colbert, Annie burst into the room with a musty box full of old photographs. Her eyes were shining, and cobwebs dangled off her dusty person. Crispin jerked his tidy dress slacks away from her as if avoiding mud from a passing motorist.
"Oh Aunt INGRID! Just LOOK what I've found! Is that really you and Errol Flynn!?"
Ingrid stared at the photograph, temporarily speechless. She'd not seen that box in years.
"Ingrid," said Crispin, bracing himself up against his chair in a state of controlled panic. "What is that?"
The expression on Crispin's stricken face was enough to jolt Ingrid back into the present.
"That, is my grand-niece. Annie. Annie, this is Mrs. Baker, and Mr. St. James, the man I told you about earlier."
Annie dropped the box to the floor and extended a dutiful (if somewhat grimy) hand to Mrs. Baker. "Hello Mrs. Baker." she said. Edith beamed up at her. "Why Miss Delaney, I didn't know you had family! What a pleasant surpise! Hello sugar pea, so nice to meet you."
Annie turned to Crispin and offered him a similar greeting. He eyed her hand warily, then slowly shook it. "Oh of course- the nieces. Yes, quite so, quite so..." he tittered nervously, glanced at Edith to make sure she wasn't looking, and then wiped his had furtively on his pocket square.
"Edith, Annie and her mother, my niece Alice have come to live with me for a while. I'm delighted to have them of course." said Ingrid smoothly. "They're the closest thing to children and grandchildren that I've ever had, and you can imagine I'm quite delighted to have them."
"Oh yes, of course." said Edith, a trifle wistfully. "How old are you, Annie?"
"I'm twelve, almost thirteen. I'll be starting seventh grade in the fall. My favorite subjects are history and literature. I don't play any sports." Annie said, an answer that was as respectful as it was efficient. She was used to the line of questioning all grownups seemed to use, and was quite weary of it. She picked a framed photograph out of the box, and held it out to Ingrid.
"Aunt Ingrid, is this really Errol Flynn with you?"
Crispin, recognizing the dangerous shift in the party's attention, sprang suddenly to life and pounced on the photo. "I say! I SAY! Yes, that's old Flynnie all right. Out on his favorite yacht to be sure. I believe I may have been the photographer. And yes, my child. That striking young woman next him is most definitely your dear aunt. Whom, I may say, you certainly do resemble."
He held out the picture for Edith's inspection. "Back in the day Old Flynnie was always having us out for the odd weekend on the clipper." Ingrid snorted into her tea and Edith's eyes opened wide as she took in the photo.
"Really Miss Delaney! You are a dark horse. So you rubbed shoulders with the greats as well? I wonder you never mentioned it!" "Yes, Auntie. You never mentioned being friends with Errol Flynn" said Annie, sitting down next to Edith. "Do tell!"
Ingrid carefully swallowed her tea. "I'm surprised you recognized him. Girls your age don't often watch his films."
Crispin interjected himself yet again. "What an interesting creature you must be, Miss Anne. Rum that, you finding that old snap of Flynnie. I miss the old boy sorely. Always a smashing good time when Flynn was about. What brilliant times we used to have, eh Ingrid?"
"Exactly which times were you referring to, Crispin?" Ingrid said pointedly. She'd given up on keeping him rooted in reality where his personal history was concerned, but her own was another matter.
"Yes, Mr. St James, I didn't know you and Aunt Ingrid were friends in the old days. She's never talked about that before." said Annie, innocence personified.
Crispin gave her a look that might have been laced with daggers, had the child not been seated beside his fair lady. "As I recall," Ingrid continued, "Sonny Morris took that picture. I'm not sure when Crispin ever joined us. Errol Flynn was Sonny's friend, more than mine. I got to know his poor first wife fairly well though. Poor Lili." Ingrid sighed.
"AH! Sonny Morris!!! OH, now that's the chap. We were speaking of him just the other day. Fascinating chap, no doubt you've heard of him Edith dear?" said Crispin, gliding swiftly into safer waters.
"Heard of him? I should say so! He and Tyrone Power and David Niven were all legendary- almost as big as Errol Flynn." Edith laughed. "A bit before my time of course! They were getting famous around the time I was born! My mother just loved Sonny Morris films."
Crispin gasped convulsively, realizing too late that he'd just irrevocably dated himself. Ingrid smirked into her tea cup, wondering how he would pull out of this one.
"Mr. St. James, I guess if you were friends with her mom's favorite actor, you're quite a bit older than Mrs. Baker, I guess." said Annie, wide eyed. Ingrid shot a questioning glance. Was it possible that this precocious infant had guessed Crispin's game too? She sounded entirely too bland to not be making mischief.
"Do you know, Annie, I'd never thought of it that way." said Edith, reflectively. "You never have mentioned your age, Crispin."
Crispin leapt to his feet, eyes nearly popping from their sockets. "Ye gods!" he cried, shrilly. "Edith dear, just look at the time! If we're ever going to make it over to Arthur Murray's in time for our lesson we'd best be getting along." He extended a gallant hand to assist Edith in rising from the couch. "I've agreed to take ballroom lessons with Edith. She's always wanted to learn, and is making a most promising start."
Edith laughed, apparently sufficiently distracted for the moment. "Oh Crispin, you're me making blush. You're such a beautiful dancer, it's really very kind of you to partner up with me at the studio."
Her use of Crispin's christian name had not escaped Ingrid's notice. "Well, run along you giddy young things!" she said brightly, as Crispin pointedly ignored the barb and escorted Edith to the door.
Before leaving, Edith turned to Annie. "It was so nice to meet you. I hope you'll enjoy your new school. I-" Crispin gripped her elbow and waved a hand to Annie in a haphazard manner as he began propelling Edith out the door and down the walk. "Yes, yes, charmed I'm sure, now Edith we really must be hurrying along. Traffic is so wretched this time of day."
Ingrid closed the door behind them, then fixed Annie with a searching stare. "Annie..."
Annie blushed, and chuckled a bit. "Maybe I shouldn't have pointed out that Mr. St. James is lots older than Mrs. Baker?" she said.
Ingrid opened her arms, and folded Annie in as robust a hug as her old arms could manage. "I'm so glad you did. It spared me the trouble!"
As the Cadillac pulled out, Alice pulled in, driving the Packard slowly into it's customary place. She'd not had time to look for a car just yet. When she arrived, she found Ingrid and Annie in stitches in the front hall.