Beacon Hill

My grandmother had one sister, Zelma, who lived in New York, and one brother, Edgecomb, a steadfast and dedicated bachleor, who we called Uncle Eddie and rarely saw aside from holidays. He was a short, almost pudgy little man with bushy eyebrows, a grey mustache and kind eyes. He was in his late forties when he finally met and married Aunt Helen, the headmistress of a prestigious girls school in a wealthy Boston suburb. She was tall and trim, properly brought up, carefully coiffed and well dressed, the product of Beacon Hill roots and old money. Nana said it was a marriage of convenience but wouldn't explain what she meant.

Aunt Helen's debut with her new family was planned and rehearsed for carefully and at length. It was decided that Nana would serve sherry and use her good china, classical music would play in the background, the children were taken shopping for proper dress up clothes and lectured relentlessly on manners and etiquette. My daddy was to wear a suit and tie, my mother was to stay sober. Toys were put up, knick knacks dusted and adjusted, ashtrays washed to a shine. Any misbehavior would be dealt with instantly and severely, my grandmother warned us in dire tones, There will be swift and certain justice for any infraction of the rules, mark my words, she predicted grimly, broom in one hand, apron in the other, No shenanigans!

As my daddy tried to tell her later, it was simply an unreasonable expectation. We were introduced and immediately banished to the downstairs playroom until dinner but it only took minutes for a fight to break out and spill back upstairs. There was much yelling and crying, blame and accusation flew in all directions, my youngest brother's nose was even bloodied before it was over. We were all sent to separate rooms to cool down and consider our behavior while Nana did her best to comfort Aunt Helen who had had simply been stricken with shock at this outbreak of violence. When she suggested in a shaky voice that perhaps the children ( we knew she wanted to say heathens ) should dine at the kitchen table, apart from the adults, Uncle Eddie refused. And, he added sharply, if you're going to have one of your spells, Helen, then please do it upstairs. Nana blinked at this rebuke, her eyes widening in surprise and she dropped the facecloth she had been holding over Aunt Helen's forehead onto her lap. Aunt Helen jumped up

with a shriek that would've shattered glass and ran from the room. While my grandmother stood speechless, my
mother and daddy both began to laugh helplessly and Uncle Eddie soon joined in. Come, Alice, he said, taking my grandmother's arm, Let's have dinner.

They continued to visit for holiday dinners and sometimes dropped in for birthdays and Helen eventually forgave us our initial encounter. They had no children and traveled extensively, furnishing a renovated Brookline townhouse with pieces and mementos from all over the world. They were an interesting if mismatched couple, the haughty Beacon Hill headmistress and the affable, down to earth real estate developer, but the marriage was to last over 40 years until Helen died, well into her eighties, and Uncle Eddie followed soon after. Gotta go, Alice, he told my grandmother with a wink, I just can't seem to do without her.