A Nick & Carter Holiday #22
Saturday, December 7, 1991
It's the fiftieth anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, an event that propelled the United States into the Second World War.
Mike Robertson has decided he wants to take Nick and Carter out for dinner to clear the air about something that happened way back then.
But then some other friends get involved and they end up in the last apartment that Nick and Mike shared before the war.
And Mike is cooking his famous pot roast, the only thing he really knows how to make.
Over dinner, Nick begins to tell his version of the events that happened fifty years ago in that very same apartment.
Needless to say, it's definitely going to be a night to remember!
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!
This is the twenty-second in a series of short stories all centered around specific holidays.
Each story is a vignette that stands on its own and takes place from the 1920s to 2008.
This is a short story containing about 7,900 words.
I think so far this has been my favorite in this series of holiday windows into the lives of Nick and Carter and their friends. Maybe it's the history buff in me, maybe it's the inclusion of friends, maybe it's the set-up of flashback/memory recall, or most likely it's a combination of all three.
We all have at least one thing happen in our lives that we'll never forget, no matter how old we get so seeing Nick and company recall the days of that fateful day 50 years later is not only realistic and believable, but also heartbreaking and heartwarming. Heartwarming because you feel the emotions behind their story, heartbreaking because, yes they obviously survived the war but hindsight lets us know what lies ahead of them.
Pearl Harbor, 1991 gives us a look at the characters of the author's Nick and Carter universe(Nick more than the rest) both in the historical and contemporary setting, not always easy to do in a short story but Frank W Butterfield accomplishes it wonderfully. Once again his original tales of Nick and Carter creep up higher on my TBR list.
On a personal note, the author mentions in his notes that he referred to a list of broadcasts on the NBC Red and Blue networks for complete details of the news on December 7, 1941 and I've mentioned before how I collect old radio shows. When 9/11 occurred I was home helping my mom recover from surgery and they sold vegetables off the farm so there was always too many tomatoes left and I was cooking up some of the extras. When doing kitchen work is when I often listen to OTR shows, one of the episodes I remember listening to that September was an episode of Fibber McGee & Molly from December 9, 1941. The announcer, Harlow Wilcox, said they are keeping the show on to keep morale up and that the sponsor, Johnson's Wax, agreed to let NBC cut in with any war news if it became available. I never forgot that episode(anyone who is interested in looking it up for a listen the episode title is 40 Percent Off).
RATING:
579 Eddy Street, Apartment 5-C
San Francisco, CA 94109
Saturday, December 7, 1991
6:55 p.m. PST
Carter pulled the Cougar into a garage on Eddy Street, between Larkin and Hyde, as Nick asked, "Now, tell me again what we're doing?"
"Hold your horses, son, and you'll find out."
Once they'd handed the car over to the attendant, Carter took Nick by the elbow and led him towards Larkin.
"Are we going to dinner? Around here?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
Nick frowned as they walked. The area wasn't the safest part of town, not that Nick ever cared much about things like that. Usually.
He wondered if maybe Carter had found some new restaurant and, if that was the case, whether it was Thai or Vietnamese. Carter was on a real kick, lately, trying any out-of-the-way Asian restaurant he could find in the Bay Area. What he most wanted, he'd said, was to find places owned and run by immigrants from places like Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, etc. Nick liked that idea, on principle, but didn't always enjoy driving to Hayward or San Pablo to try out the newest spot.
Before they got to the corner, Carter jaywalked across the street, still holding Nick by the elbow.
Suddenly, Nick realized where they were. "Did you know—?"
"Yes, I did," said Carter as they walked up the steps. He looked for a button and then pressed it.
"5-C?" asked Nick.
Carter grinned at him as the buzzer sounded and the door clicked open.
. . .
At the end of the hall, Carter rapped on the door. Nick could hear music playing and voices talking and laughing. He could also smell something cooking. He wondered if maybe it was pot roast. That made him grin.
The door opened and, with an apron wrapped around his waist, Greg Holland stood there with a big smile on his face. "Come on in. You're the last to get here."
Carter stepped back to let Nick go in first. He hugged Greg and asked, "What is this?"
"I'll let Mike explain," replied Greg. "Let me have your coat."
Nick removed his jacket and handed it to Greg who opened a door in the hallway revealing a closet with other coats hanging inside.
"Wow," said Nick as he looked inside the closet and then down at the floor. "It hasn't changed much."
Greg said, "Mike's in the kitchen. I think you know the way."
Nick chuckled and walked into the living room. There, sitting at a big dining table which was covered with a white cloth and crystal and china, sat Henry Winters and Robert Evans.
They both looked up. Robert smiled and said, "Mike wants to talk to you first."
"He's in the kitchen," added Henry, pointing to the kitchen door.
Nick nodded. "I know the way."
They both laughed.
. . .
Pushing his way through the swinging door, Nick stopped and then backed up. He moved the door back and forth, noiselessly. "I see someone fixed the squeak."
Standing over a relatively new stove, Mike grinned at Nick and nodded. "I hear the current landlord is a real dick, but he's not that bad when you get to know him."
Nick laughed. "I own this building?"
"According to Robert, you bought it in 1972."
"Robert bought it, you mean."
"Same difference."
Nick walked over and stood next to Mike. "Is that your famous pot roast?"
"Yes, sir. Your favorite."
"The only thing you actually know how to make unless Greg has taught you some of his tricks."
"Nope. I make the pot roast. He makes everything else. It's almost ready, by the way."
Pointing to the two smaller pans, Nick asked, "What's this?" He grinned up at Mike. "Could they be... vegetables?"
"Potatoes are vegetables."
Leaning against the fridge, Nick laughed. "This feels so familiar."
"Yeah?" asked Mike as he removed the lid from one of the smaller pots. Using a big, slotted spoon, he stirred and then put the lid on an empty place on the range top.
"Do I see green peas?"
"And they're fresh. Greg knows someone near Half Moon Bay with a greenhouse who grows 'em year-round."
"Nice."
"Pardon me," said Mike as he reached for the fridge door. "Need to get the butter."
Moving over to the sink, Nick asked, "What's going on here?"
"Well," said Mike as he sliced off about a quarter of a stick of butter into the peas, "I figured it was finally time for me to be a man and apologize."
Nick laughed. "For what?"
"For knocking your block off 50 years ago."
"Well, it was on the 9th, not the 7th, if you'll remember."
Mike glanced over with a warm smile on his craggy face. "After 50 years, bud, who's countin'?"
Nick felt himself getting emotional right then, so he just nodded.
. . .
They were all at the table with glasses and plates full. Nick was about to raise his glass to offer a toast when Carter suddenly jumped up. "Hold on."
He walked over to the built-in cabinet in the corner opposite of the kitchen. It was where Mike had once kept his guns and ammunition. Carter opened it up, revealing a big microphone and cassette tape recorder.
"What's that?" asked Greg.
"I am going to record this conversation," said Carter. "I have a whole box of tapes, so we can stay here until dawn."
Henry sniffed. "Is this for a book?"
"Yep," replied Carter as he inserted a cassette into the recorder and messed around with some wires.
"That's a good idea," said Robert.
"Why?" asked Nick. "Why should we record what we say?"
"For posterity," said Carter, "and maybe a book." He pressed a button, waited, and then pressed another button. "That's all set for when we're ready." He walked back over to his chair next to Nick and sat.
Mike said, "The way this came about is that Greg suggested we take the two of you out for dinner tonight. Then I had the idea of including Henry and Robert and making my famous pot roast."
Greg added, "We were going to invite everyone to our house, but then Robert suggested we do everything here since the apartment was vacant."
"Due to the recession, no doubt," said Henry, darkly.
"No," replied Robert, quietly. "The previous tenant passed away in October. His parents came into town from Idaho and cleared out all his stuff. The rent was paid through March"—he glanced at Nick—"and Mrs. Neely, the manager, offered to sublet it out, but the parents haven't got back to her." He sighed. "I don't think they will."
"AIDS?" asked Mike.
Robert frowned and nodded. "And the parents were not very nice according to Mrs. Neely."
"Why don't we move someone in who needs a place to live?" asked Carter.
Robert shook his head. "I checked with Bob Carmichael at WilcoxRoss and he said it would be illegal." He looked around the room. "So, this place stays empty until March."
"If the parents still hold the lease, does that mean we're squatting?" asked Nick.
Robert grinned. "It does. Should I notify the landlord?"
"According to Mike, he's a real dick."
Everyone laughed.
Mike looked at Nick. "I suppose you're the one who pre-paid the rent."
"Did I?"
"Not directly, but, yes, more or less," replied Robert.
"What was the kid's name?"
"Mark Peterson."
"Then he gets the first toast." Nick lifted his glass of wine. "To Mark Peterson, wherever he is."
Everyone else lifted their glasses and, in unison, said, "To Mark."
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!
This is a series of short stories with each centered around a specific holiday.
From New Year's Day to Boxing Day, each story stands on its own and might occur in any year from the early 1920s to the first decade of the 21st Century.
Saturday Series Spotlights
Author Bio:
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
Pearl Harbor Day, 1991 #22
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