Page 32 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

Harry said right off, “You had a visitor today.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Some guy named Benjamin Good.”

Oh, shit! “My brother? Here?”

“Yep.” Harry grinned. “Staying at some mansion in Hatteras with your parents.”

“How do you know they’re staying in a mansion?”

“Because he told me so. And made a point of mentioning that the mansion belongs to some big shot on the Princeton board of trustees.”

It was probably Jerome Dellasario from Johnson & Johnson, whose ego matched theirs. Who happened to be Ben’s father-in-law.

“No offense, but your brother has the biggest pole up his ass I’ve ever seen. Almost as bad as my son Sterling, who thinks he shits gold.”

Merrill arched his brows.

“Your brother looked at this house like it was a slum. In fact, his exact words were, ‘For a guy who’s supposed to be worth a million dollars due to some embarrassing invention on the Internet, my brother sure is slumming.’ He was referring to you, of course.”

“Of course.” Merrill laughed. “Typical! I haven’t seen Ben for five years.” Last he’d heard, Ben and Vanessa were biophysicists doing research at Johns Hopkins. He had no idea if they were still there or what they were doing. “Kinda hoped good ol’ Ben woulda loosened up by now. He inherited that elitist attitude from my parents, by the way. They think anyone with less than a master’s degree is illiterate and anyone not pursuing ‘high’ endeavors is a loser.”

“Uh-oh! Sounds like you’ve had some bad experiences in that regard.”

“You could say that. They couldn’t imagine why a person with a Mensa intellect and a 5.0 GPA from Princeton, where they teach, would go into the military.”

“Pacifists?”

“Not so much that as a waste of intelligence.”

Harry shook his head. “Serving your country is a waste? Pff! All those soldiers out there getting themselves killed for their freedom and safety must be imbeciles. Losers with no other options.” Harry had served in Army intelligence at the tail end of the Vietnam War.

“Right. If they only knew the squids, jarheads, and grunts I’ve met! Between you and me, in SEALs, at least, there are some very intelligent, highly educated men, who also happen to be brave and loyal and patriotic. I’d take one of them any day over some professor who’s never done anything outside a classroom.” He paused. “Sorry for the rant. You hit a sore spot.”

Harry took a sip of his wine and grinned. “It didn’t help matters that Elmer asked your brother’s wife if she’d like to dance. Today was Mambo Monday, remember?”

“Oh, Lord! Vanessa is here, too?”

“Uh-huh! And the pole up her behind was practically through her snooty nose.” His grin faded as Harry explained, “She looked at Elmer like he was a dog turd under her fancy pancy sandals, and she said something unkind to Mildred when she offered them some lemonade.”

Now, that burned Merrill’s ass, big-time. It was one thing for Ben and Vanessa to insult him, but they had no business coming here and offending these kind people. If they were here now, he would have a thing or two to say to them. And maybe a fist in Ben’s priggish face was long overdue.

The sad thing was that Ben hadn’t always been that way. Two years older than Merrill, Ben had been a great older brother. Fun. Protective. Adventurous. Merrill wasn’t sure when he’d noticed the changes come about, maybe in high school when Ben had first fallen for Vanessa Dellasario, who thought she farted roses, even back then when she wore industrial-looking braces and had a lisp. Or maybe it was earlier than that, when their parents had begun pressuring both of them to become intolerant of those “inferior” to them, to associate only with friends with higher aspirations.

Merrill, a disappointment from an early age, had refused to bend to their mold. Almost everything Merrill liked had been a no-no. Skateboarding, football, video games, rock music, anything that didn’t improve the mind. Ben hadn’t been so determined, or maybe he was just weaker and unable to fight the tide of parental influence.

Merrill took a long swallow of beer and changed the subject. “So, insomnia? Happen a lot?”

Harry shrugged. “Ever since Julia died last year. I can keep busy during the day, but during the night I miss her so much I can barely stand it.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three years tomorrow.”

“Aaah.”

“I can’t complain. Lots of people never find ‘the one,’ not even after repeated divorces and remarriages. I got lucky first time around.”