By the end of the weekend, the decision was firmly made. Poirot would stay. The only thing to deal with was finally letting go of his suite in the home he'd known for so long. Not to mention the bother of selling what he couldn't bring to his new home.
That problem was remedied when a letter Poirot wrote to the former Miss Lemon was replied to, by telephone. Their school was looking for furnishings for a new study hall and they would be happy to take it off his hands.
"Would you be willing to take five hundred pounds?"
"Mis....Pardon, Madame Bennett. Felicity, if I were to take £500.00 for those antiques, you could have me arrested for robbing you."
"Mr. Poirot, stores, even second hand shops are asking nearly that much for ONE desk. Especially solid wood. And your desks are a very well maintained. Asking five hundred pounds for the entire ensemble is hardly stealing. In fact, I'd feel guilty for robbing you."
"I have an idea most equitable. I have to come into the city to return to Whitehaven management, the keys for my suite. Would you be able to meet me? We could have breakfast. I will ask Captain Hastings if he would like to come along. I am going to ask if he would like to keep the radio, unless you would like that as well."
"No. that's quite alright. Captain Hastings can keep the radio. Kids, today, have their portable record players. "
"Even in the hall for studies?"
"It's a concession we're willing to make if it insures the kids will actually study. If their marks aren't up to par, they lose the record player."
The next day, over breakfast, Felicity, Edgar, Poirot and Captain Hastings met for breakfast at the little bakery / deli, where Hastings got her the soup for the flu from h.e. double hockey sticks. Over breakfast, they came to a quick agreement for the ensemble cost, which would enable the furniture to be bought and moved without the school fussing over pennies. Hastings was delighted with the radio.
"Thank you, Poirot. It's a lovely gift! Would it be alright if I kept in the lounge? Guests can listen to the news and radio programs after dinner."
"Certainement . And it would make the nice addition to the room."
However it got done, one way or another, things were boxed, moved, packed and shipped. At the end of it, there was only the kitchen and bedroom furniture left, and Poirot informed Whitehaven management that they could sell what they wanted and keep the money to offset the cost of cleaning and repairing any scrapes and nicks that not even he noticed.
****
Initially quiet on the way back to Styles, Poirot brought himself out of his nostalgic melancholy by bringing up the subject of rental obligation.
"Rent?" Hastings puzzled.
"Oui. I do appreciate the weekend you have afforded me, mon ami. It was most kind of you. But I will not take advantage of you this way. You did introduce me to a few tenants of the villa. How much...?"
"That's different, Poirot. Mr. Cohen lost his wife a few months ago and needed the company of other people. His kids were getting worried about him. For the weekend, we charged .....twenty pounds, I think. That was to cover the cost of laundry staff for cleaning bath towels. If he liked it and wanted to stay, we would arrange something. That's what we did. He's not living at the Inn for free, but we're not putting him out of pocket either. For the guests, they're charged a competitive rate with most other hotels around. You, on the other hand, are a friend. You've had me over any number of times without asking so much as a penny. I should have, at the very least, least paid for the food. I didn't eat as well in any restaurant in London."
"And do you ever charge me for the petrol when you drive me here and there? You do not. But this is different. It is a business. I did not have staff to pay when I let you stay over at the house and you were not driving the public transportation. Now, please, mon ami. It is too late to turn around and go back. Japp, he would have the heart attack, as would the good people of the phone company and the management of whitehaven Mansions. "Poirot is coming and going. Silly retired detective. He doesn't know what he is doing'. That is what they will begin to say about me. "
" Nonsense. And you don't have to go back to Whitehaven. I just don't like the idea of charging friends to stay in, to all intents and purposes, my home."
"How about Japp and Madame Emily?"
"Barter. Japp's a bored gardener and this place has been a challenge. So we fed him for two days of work which I'd just about have to twist his arm to pay him for. Just about being the operative phrase. I'm sure Scotland Yard pensions aren't such that he could work free for any extended period. Not that I'd ask him to." Hastings narrowly missed an idiot driver, pulling into his lane from another. "And that's another thing! Japp will be getting a pension when he retires next year. You won't."
"On England's 'dime' so to speak, non. However, I have invested wisely over the years, so I am not so financially embarrassed as you might think."
"Hardly 'embarrassed', but...."
"Good friend, Hastings, if I could afford White Haven Mansions, I will be able to afford the monthly rent for your villa. On the other hand, if you do not wish to call it rent, call it an investment in a worthy enterprise. Styles Country Villa, it is a job well done. The food, it is good. The bath towels, they are nice and soft. Comforting at the end of the busy day. The guests, they are friendly. You have good staff. I want to do my part in helping that good will to continue."
"I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?" Arthur Hastings asked after driving for another few minutes.
"No. No you will not."
Shaking his head as he chuckled, "All right then, let's bargain. How much did you pay for rent at Whitehaven?"
"Twenty Guineas each month."
"Well then, that's easy enough. How about you pay ten guineas a month at Styles Villa? And that is my final offer. That will cover your food and incidentals. Does that seem fair?"
"Yes, mon ami. That is a cost that is very fair. I can enjoy my new home now. Merci."
*****
Within two hours of their arrival home, the moving truck pulled up and the radio was carefully unloaded and maneuvered carefully down a small plank. There were wheels for legs, which made it easier to move and clean behind. In addition to the radio were the two large pieces of luggage that bore more of a resemblance to steamer trunks one would take on an ocean voyage than regular airline luggage. However, apart from escorting the mover to his suite with the luggage and tipping him five pounds, Poirot was more interested in getting up a brief game of golf with Aaron and his Au Pair, Molly Brahms, before dinner. Over the game, the four year old boy made a show of groaning over his early morning lessons, even as he made a putt with his custom made golf club Hastings had made for his son.
Oh, this boy was the son of Arthur Hastings, without a doubt
"Lessons?" Poirot asked Miss Brahms.
"I do try to teach him the alphabet and math. One plus one, with drawn animals and such. To listen to this boy, you'd think I was putting him to work on my taxes." The young woman, in her early to mid twenties said with a giggle.
"But think how smart you will be, mon petit. When you are old enough to go to school, you will be ahead of the other kids." Aaron's Papa Payrow attempted to explain, but the four year old had no concept of something years away. Two to three years off might as well have been a hundred years into the future. Instead, he concentrated his efforts on the putting match, which he won, if only by a few strokes.
****
Dinner was another adventure. While the child didn't mind the chicken and loved mashed potatoes, neither Arthur Hastings or his wife had any luck getting him to eat his yellow beans. However, instead of trying to bribe the boy with extra dessert, Aaron's Papa Payrow took a different tack; singing the praises of his vegetable while cringing at the thought of having to eat potatoes. That's when Aaron took the lead; picking up a small spoonful of potatoes, with the chicken gravy, he let the mashed potatoes melt in his mouth and chewed on the small pieces of chicken inbedded in the potatoes.
"You try it, Papa Payrow! " The boy insisted.
Isabel and Arthur Hastings could only watch the play acting as Poirot took a deep, steadying breath. He took a forkful of potatoes and gravy and attempted to bring it to his lips. "I cannot." He shook his head.
"Papa!" Aaron scolded in an impatient whisper. "I will tell Enid and she will be upset."
Poirot hummed long, considering. "Would you tell Miss Enid if I were to put the yellow beans with the potatoes? That is the only way I would be able to eat those...." he cringed to get the word passed his lips. "potatoes."
"How would that taste?" Aaron asked, making something of a face that doubted any good could come of the mix.
"Better. That way, I could eat that.... mush when it is mingled with good food."
The boy sighed and then shrugged. "Okay. "
And so, Aaron's adopted granddad took a forkful of the 'repellent mush' potatoes, and mingled them with his vegetable and was relieved that the yellow beans took the awfulness from the otherwise 'yucky' mashed potatoes. Hastings just about bit his tongue off to keep from laughing. Even with food he didn't like, Arthur NEVER heard Hercule Poirot refer to it as 'yucky' . But Aaron understood and he was the one Poirot was trying to communicate with.
"It's better?" Aaron asked.
"Oh yes. Why don't you try? Bury your yucky yellow beans under your mushy potatoes and gravy. It might take the bad vegetable taste away."
"And if they don't taste good , I don't have to eat them?" The boy negotiated.
Aaron's Papa Payrow reluctantly agreed. "However, if the yellow beans hid the..." he cringed again. "taste of the potatoes, then perhaps, the potatoes, for you, they would hide the icky taste of the yellow beans. All you can do is try."
"Will you try at the same time?" Aaron asked.
"All right." Poirot conceded. And the two ate the one food they didn't like so long as it was smothered in a food they did like.
"That was okay," Aaron agreed. "How about you?"
Poirot shrugged. "I will be able to eat all of those potatoes if I have my vegetables to hide the taste."
With that, both plates were emptied, even down to the chicken, which, in Aaron's case, had been cut into small bite sided pieces and mingled with his potatoes and gravy.
Hastings and Isabel applauded the two fussy eaters for finishing their full dinner.
"How do you feel about mocha layer cake with ice cream?" Isabel inquired after the dinner plates were taken away and dessert was served.
Poirot made a show of enduring all he could deal with, "I will try if Aaron will." he said with a deep sigh. "Do I have to drink coffee, too, or can I have milk?"
"You have to drink coffee," Aaron said. "The milk is for me."
"Dommage." Poirot shrugged. Still, he bravely soldiered on and finished his cake and ice cream along with the coffee.
****
After dinner, and his bath, Aaron joined his Papa in the lounge, as he sat by a window seat, playing chess with a man who could almost have been Poirot's twin, except for the height. Around the room, guests read or talked. A couple sat in the opposite corner to the record player and listened to the latest detective story on the new radio.
"Hello Mr. Cohen", Aaron greeted the man who'd been a resident pretty much since the place opened, not long after his wife died. "You know my Papa Payrow?"
Mr. Cohen, who'd heard his name pronounced Cone by the youngster, replied, "Oh yes. He is quite the chess player. Do you play Chess, young man?"
Aaron Hastings shook his head. "Golf. Like my dad. Papa Payrow, can you read to me from the book Miss Brahms gave me?"
"Is that all right with you, Isadore? I can come back to the game in a few minutes."
Isadore Cohen waved it off. "It'll take me that long to plan out my next move. Go on, Hercule."
And so Poirot sat, on a sofa with the little boy snuggled beside him, and read from the Alphabet book. They got to 'E' is for Elephant before the boy got bored. "Could you tell another story like you told the first night. Master spy?"
"Master Detective Arthur Hastings, and his Trusty Poirot!" Poirot declared.
"I can't wait to hear this." Arthur Hastings said. He was dressed in his pajamas after his bath. Sitting across the couch from Poirot, Aaron got off the couch and sat with his dad. Both were dressed in similar bed clothes, down to the slippers.
"You want to hear the story of how Master Detective Hastings brought a young couple together after foiling a jewel robbery?"
"I know I do." Hastings declared.
Careful to keep the less pleasant details out of the story, Poirot told the saga of the daring jewel robbery and the one who went around stealing both jewelry and expensive art.
"But the poor Master Detective Hastings, he was upset after things went terribly wrong. He thought he had the robber of paintings and expensive jewelry in his sight, but it turned out, he had the wrong person. So he was sad and he told to his trusty Poirot that he wanted to give up detecting. In the meantime, the trusty Poirot, he pleaded with his friend not to give up. There was yet another chance to find the robbers. And so they go to this mansion in Switzerland where the robber was hiding.
In the meantime, the Master Detective he finds this young dancer who was also kidnapped by the robber. And the robber wanted a lot of money which the young man, he could not pay. What the robber and the kidnapper did not know was, Master Detective Hastings told his friend that he figured out who the killer was. And they found a way to bait for the kidnapper, an even better trap, while they find a way to get the kidnapped young dancer back to her sweetheart. The kidnapper takes the bait, proving herself to be also the jewel thief. So Master Detective Hastings and his trusty Poirot, like the Holmes and Watson of the books, they share a large reward for the return of the jewels."
By the time he finished, everyone in the room was listening to the story and applauding Those who didn't know he was retired master sleuth Hercule Poirot enjoyed the story. Others who did know guessed he was disguising a case. Still in all, it was fun to listen to.
This time Aaron didn't fall asleep. Instead, he gave his Papa a hug around the neck the minute Poirot sat down. "Good night Papa Payrow ." and ran ahead of his dad before he heard Hastings call, "No running."
The Chess game commenced, with Isadore winning the game by a move which Poirot chastised himself for missing.
"If you're up for another game tomorrow, you can even the score."
"Monsieur Cohen, I accept the challenge."
****
Hercule Poirot settled into his new life and home; dividing his time fairly evenly between helping his adopted grandson with his lessons, besting, or not, a worthy chess competitor in Isadore Cohen and , by night working on converting journal entries into chapters. He mailed the first three chapters to Mrs. Oliver inside of the first week of his moving to Styles Coutnry Villa, along with a note of apology.
By the time he was finished with the next three chapters, he'd been living at Styles Country Villa for a month.
One Saturday, about an hour before lunch, Poirot accompanied Isabel and Aaron to an errand in town where he mailed the second installment of stories and purchased more envelopes and stamps. Isabel purchased accounting ledgers for the office and then they went for mike shakes and fish and chips. Poirot had learned to enjoy this English fare after a lake night snack, following the completion of a successful case. After which time, it was too late to find anywhere else to eat and so Hastings took them to a drive in. The chips were delicious and the fish was deeply battered and greasy, and he found himself relishing the finger food. Still, he marveled at how a little boy could eat so much and yet fuss over something like yellow beans. Kids.
Back at home, they were greeted by the Japps and Aaron ran to hug Aunt Emmy and Uncle Jim.
"Are you fixing the grass today?" Aaron asked
"Is it broken?" Japp smiled down at the boy. "I do have good news for your Papa," Japp pointed at Poirot.
"I love always to hear the good news." Poirot declared. "Do share."
"We haven't heard anything from our friends in a month."
"I do not wish to rain on your picnic, mon ami, but you and Hastings have both told me that the Brotherhood, they have been playing cat and mouse. I do hope you are right. It will let us all relax. However, I will I wait for another month. Better yet, I will wait until I am finished this project I am working on. If, at the end of my collaboration with Madame Oliver, there are no more peeps from the Brotherhood scoundrels, then I will relax."
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