The hobby shop continued to operate under the ownership of the twins who had early on established a policy that any child could enter just to see the layout and, if the clerk had time to show them how, run the trains. To the surprise of everyone, business increased dramatically as kids, whose fathers were modelers, insisted they buy from the shop so they could run the trains.
With this open door no exclusion policy for kids, and Willie's sharp eyes, the twins decided to ask Mark to be present in the shop at any time Willie called to say he thought he had a homeless child or two playing with the trains. If the calls from Willie came near lunch or dinnertime, Mark would bring a bag of sandwiches with him. Adding a carton of milk from the supply in the shop's fridge to the sandwiches, Mark judged by the way the child ate if the aid of the Home was needed. Within a surprisingly brief time, the last house in the complex was fully occupied to the twins' delight.
After a few years of outstanding success, business, inexplicably, began to fall off. Willie, who had been promoted to manager after several years as a clerk, investigated and found that a new shop had opened in the business district, convenient to businessmen and workers at lunch or closing time.
To counter, Willie suggested to the twins that, though their shop was always the first in the area to carry new products and advertised in modeling journals, they begin to place quarter page ads in the leading local paper. He had also noted that while many men looked enviously at the store layout as their sons ran the trains, they bemoaned their inability to create layouts of their own for lack of knowledge.
Thus began a series of Saturday workshops on how to build a HO layout from the ground up. The presenters, brought in, housed, and fed at the expense of the shop and the twins, were all near, or held, Master Modeler certification in their specialties from the National Model Railroad Association. In addition, the twins had Willie purchase a carton of how-to videos on building a first model railroad which he then handed out to those completing the entire course of workshops.
For those taking the course, Willie put together a complete kit of supplies with which to build a layout identical to the small layout resulting from the demonstrations. While Willie suggested to the twins that the completed layout be awarded to one of the attendees of the workshop, the twins insisted that, after being on display in the shop for a time, it be transported to the Home for the younger boys to enjoy. As a result of the workshops, not only did business pick up dramatically, but the competing shop was soon on the verge of closing its doors for lack of patronage.
On this particular day, lunch had been a half-hour earlier than usual and, though the day was sunny and a comfortable 75º with a slight breeze, there was an eerie quiet in each of the five homes around the square. The house-masters of the three houses in which the older boys lived were busily checking to see that each boy had showered and had dressed in his best suit, hair combed, shoes polished, and ties properly knotted. The house-parents of the two houses in which the youngest boys lived were even busier in seeing that each boy was spotlessly clean, then helping them dress in their best, eschewing the ties, this latter to bring murmurs of complaint from the older boys.
Promptly at 2 o'clock, Bradford pulled the large van to a stop at the open side of the square. Accompanied by their house-parents, the younger boys got in first, followed by the older boys and their housemasters. The four oldest boys entered the SUV where a subdued Mark sat behind the wheel. Satisfied that all were boarded, a tearful Bobby climbed into the front passenger seat next to Mark and nodded at him to drive on.
Some fifteen minutes later, the vehicles parked in marked spaces in the lot behind the Gothic church. Before the boys emerged, the house parents once again reminded the younger boys to dip their fingers lightly into the Holy Water and make the sign of the cross on entering the sanctuary and again on leaving. Bobby paused in the narthex for a moment looking through the open doors down the main aisle to the chancel steps. He crossed himself, then stood aside watching as each boy filed past to follow Mark into the church. Bobby followed the last boy to the reserved four rows of pews at the front of the nave on the Epistle side. Mark felt a sense of renewed affection when he saw that side of the nave all but completely filled with men of varying ages, all alumni of the Home, their grieving but loving expressions lifting his spirits.
Bobby's silent tears began anew as he genuflected, then took his seat. A couple of the newer house-parents were astonished at the loud exuberant organ, not recognizing Tom Morrisy at the console. Bobby smiled through his tears, knowing that Tom had interrupted a major concert tour to play this exuberant music to honour and fulfill a wish of the twins.
He sat in contemplation, remembering the phone call in the early hours of the morning two days before. Doctor Erik in halting, barely discernible words told him that Derek had passed away. Then before hanging up the phone, said that he would now follow his brother, that Bobby was not to grieve, for they were grateful for his excellent administration of the Home. He was told where to find the combination for the safe in Derek's office. All of the necessary papers were contained there.
"We are so proud of you and love you, our son," were the last words Bobby was to hear from one of the men he loved as his fathers.
Bobby called Whiting and Bradford. Asking them to meet him immediately at the cottage, he quickly dressed in jeans and pullover and went to the twins' home. As an MD, Bobby knew he could certify death, but felt it an impossible task to perform on those so dear to him.
When the others arrived, Bobby opened the door of the cottage and they entered, doors at the Home were never locked except to insure privacy for short periods, going to the master bedroom. Erik lay next to Derek, an expression of repose on both faces. "Please," Bobby said to the two doctors as he turned away in tears. They quickly certified death from natural causes and led Bobby out of the cottage. Before they returned to their own house, Whiting handed Bobby a tranquilizer and told him to take it as soon as he could and go to bed.
Bobby walked in a daze to the mansion, found a bottle of water in the fridge, took a swallow, and set the tablet aside. He carried the remaining water with him into Derek's office. Opening the safe with the combination he retrieved from its hiding place, he found the folder and sat at the desk to read over the pages within. He did not protest Mark's sudden appearance, nor did Mark say anything, just stood behind Bobby with his hand comfortingly on Bobby's shoulder.
Despite the hour, he called the funeral home indicated. Together, they watched the monitor until they saw the two black vans pull up to the gate. Mark pressed the button to open the gates, then led a still dazed Bobby outside to direct the funeral workers to the cottage. Mark handed one of the men the death certificates he had taken from Bobby and they went to wait outside as the men performed their duties. They crossed themselves as each body was carried past them to be placed in one of the vans. Once the vans had cleared the gates, Mark closed them and led a stumbling Bobby back to his flat in the main house. Though Mark forced him to take the tranquilizer and stayed with him, Bobby slept only fitfully until dawn. At breakfast, he announced the death of their benefactors to all the inhabitants of the Home, then excused himself and left before breaking down once again.
Knowing that Bobby was in no state to think coherently, Mark had already sent e-mails to all of the boys who had passed through their doors and had gone on to make lives for themselves. He knew that each had been given a new lap-top linked to the Home's web-site at graduation and made it a point to send periodic newsletters to each. This time he requested swift replies. Astounded at the number immediately replying and indicating that they would attend the service, he called the small four-star motel just down the hill from the museum and reserved all the rooms for two nights minimum. A call to Brat insured a sufficient dinner which all of the boys, old and new, would attend. Just seeing the boys, Mark thought, would lift Bobby out of his depressed state.
When the others in the congregation began to rise, Bobby's thoughts returned to the present. As the organ boomed out the prelude to one of the twins' favorite hymns, the Crucifer, followed by an acolyte, the second oldest boy from the Home, carrying the lighted Paschal candle and then the Pastor led the stately procession. Behind them came the catafalque bearing the two urns covered by a pall and being pushed slowly by the oldest boy at the Home, during the singing of the hymn. As they reached the chancel steps, the acolyte placed the candle in the holder next to the catafalque holding the urns in position before the chancel steps. The acolyte followed the pastor up the steps, lighted the altar candles, then took his accustomed place near the altar rail, while the other boy joined those from the Home.
The adults opened the printed booklet containing the setting of the funeral mass and joined in the responsive chants, stopping occasionally to point out the progression to the boys standing next to them.
Only the boys and alumni of the Home followed the Pastor, the acolyte, and the crucifer, in the recessional, to the columbarium. Standing in the landscaped garden, they watched as the urns were lifted into a niche prepared to hold both, as the Pastor chanted the committal. After the Lord's Prayer and blessing, they left in silence to return to the Home.
Two evenings after the day of the funeral, Bobby met the remaining trustees of the Home in the small conference room next to his office in the museum.
"Doctor Harmon," John Atkinson, the attorney for the trust and chairman of the board of trustees, began. Bobby immediately turned and looked towards the closed door.
"Doctor Harmon," the attorney began once more. This time Paul Phillips, the representative for the juvenile court, touched Bobby on the arm. When Bobby turned back, they saw tears in his eyes.
"Sorry," he apologized, "but Doctor Harmon always meant my dads. I'm just Bobby to one and all."
"That may well be," the attorney said, "but by the terms of the wills, you are now the Director and Chief Administrator of the Steven Harmon Residence for Exceptional Students. Also, by extension, you become a trustee of the original Worthington Trust which provides all funding for the Home. You are also a licensed medical doctor, so it is only right that you be so addressed, especially now."
"Thank you, but it will take a bit of getting used to."
"Now then, the charter calls for five trustees. With the passing of the Harmon brothers, we have three besides you, Doctor Harmon. As you know, they are Sheriff Wainwright, Paul Phillips of the juvenile court, and myself, as attorney for the two trusts. The charter provides for five trustees, thusly I declare the floor open for nominations for the remaining seat and any relevant discussion."
Bobby was quick to speak. "I nominate Mark Evans in the knowledge that he will make a thoughtful and worthy trustee, especially as he is so integrated into the activities of the Home."
"You must be kidding!" Atkinson burst out.
"Absolutely not! Why?" Bobby fired back, his face flushed with anger.
"Every time I've seen that young man, he's been playing soccer with the older boys or down in the floor playing with the younger ones. How can someone like that exhibit the proper image an institution like this must portray."
"Image, schmimage," Bobby retorted. "The things you've mentioned are precisely the reason we need him. You have no idea what a valuable source of information he is for me, simply because he relates so well with the boys of all ages. Also as my assistant, his input as to what is needed in terms of educational needs, physical facilities, and virtually every other aspect of this institution is what has enabled me, since I became administrator, and you of the board, when needed, to act swiftly to effect needed change. May I remind you that this is not a charity created for us to enhance our public image by holding the positions of trustees thereof, but a Home for youths with special needs. By maintaining a low public profile, we avoid subjecting our boys to discrimination and build their self-images and acceptance of others. I fully expect you to approve Mark as a member of this body."
A properly chastened Atkinson looked at the other trustees, "Further nominations, gentlemen?" When he saw only a negatively wagging of heads, he said, "I then have the pleasure of declaring Mark Evans as our new trustee, Doctor Harmon, do you think you might have him join us?"
"Sorry, gentlemen," Mark apologized as he entered a few minutes later, "but the boys and I were having a bit of wrestling to help them blow off some steam. A couple of them have had a bad day of some sort."
"Not at all, Mister Evans," Atkinson said quickly. "Doctor Harmon has accepted the position of Director of the Home and graciously nominated you to replace him as a Trustee. Furthermore, you will become the new administrator of the Home. By acclamation, the other trustees and I have chosen you and we wished the pleasure of welcoming you into our circle. Will you accept?"
With a momentary look at Bobby, who nodded, Mark replied, "With pleasure, gentlemen. I only want what's best for our boys."
"Mr. Atkinson, if I may," Bobby began, "I would like to add for the record that Mark is Doctor Evans. He is a DDS and, as such, provides the finest dental care for all of our residents."
Atkinson shook his head. "Gentlemen, I remain in awe of this institution. No wonder I have never seen any medical expenses other than the rare cases where a hospital has been involved. Certainly no other similar institution can claim as many doctors of varying specialties on its staff as this one. I am even more proud to be associated with an institution of this calibre."
Bobby, in the meantime, had pressed a button and moments later Bratton and Ryan rolled in serving carts holding a coffee urn and several plates of pastries and other collations. They were immediately repaid by the expressions of delight they saw on the faces of the trustees descending on the refreshments.
Bobby grinned at Mark and breathed a sigh of relief. The transition of power, from the guiding hands of the twins, had come to rest completely in his hands and those of Mark, and would insure that things would continue without anyone other than the board members being aware of any change. Bobby would also now hold control over the business entities that funded the Home. Its future was assured.