The drive to my grandmother's house was interminably long. Past the comfortable environs of New York City with it's traffic and restaurants into lower upstate New York, north on the thruway, then east on 4 to the tiny town of Plymouth with it's burgeoning population of about 6700 (obviously I'm being sarcastic here. I am, after all, from the city that many have dubbed the greatest in the world). But I am, after all, the only heir to my grandfather's estate. I never understood why grand dad didn't leave his money to his wife, but I knew it was a complicated relationship. Grandpop had married his wife, Emma, while trying to build his business empire, which was not easy in New Hampshire, but he was very successful. And as his business grew, so did his estrangement from grandma. Obviously they'd had sex, otherwise I wouldn't be here.
My dad had died ot a heart attack a year earlier, and mom had remarried.
I let my mind wander to the agricultural courses I'd taken in high school, though my choice of those classes caused a lot of raised eyebrows. I could never understand why mom and dad wanted me to take ag classes, but they were fairly easy, and I'd aced them.
I rode past farms and fields, resplendent with new growth, signifying crops would be ready for harvest in many months and cows, most of them were black angua with some charolais intermingled nearly big enough for market.
I pulled up to the farmhouse with its circular driveway and the main entrance with a dramatic flying buttress and the exotic stonework that seemed to make my grandfather so proud and magnified his accomplishments but for which my grandmother cared little.
Grandma greeted me at the door before I'd even rung the bell. I was surprised there were no servants; not a maid or butler to be seen. The look of puzzlement must have been obvious to the lady standing before me. She answered me while giving me a huge hug that was more intimate than I expected. She seemed to grind against me as we hugged, though I figured it was just my 30 year old imagination. "Honey, I have people in once a week to dust and do whatever I can't, or don't really want to do. While your grandfather did leave the bulk of his money to you, he actually did leave me enough to easily get by on."
I looked at my grandmother. She was 70, but looked 20 years younger, only slight crows feet giving away any age at all.
She invited me in, asking me if I wanted to freshen up before dinner. I nodded my head. Grandma disappeared to one of the rooms in the cavernous house, soon reappearing with a neatly folded pile of clothes. "Here Thomas, this was your grandafather's which he wore only once as he prefered to walk around in his underwear. I would love it if you would wear these pajamas and robe. Oh, and in case you need it, a few pairs of his boxers and some briefs are in the bathroom. He wore briefs in his younger days, but when his balls hung too much, he switched to boxers, or so he said. And I have no idea if you prefer boxers or briefs."
Grandma smiled broadly when I blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry, Thomas, I should not be so blunt. Grandpa said I should tone it down some. He often said I had a mouth like a truck driver," she said, muffling a laugh. I chuckled because, being from New York, I often heard and said much worse.
I went to the bathroom, took a long shower. The barely frosted glass of the shower door lt let me clearly see the adjoined bedroom, which by itself was impressive, with a king bed replete with frilled bedclothes and a fringed canopy that seemed to be built for a girl, or at least an adult female with extravagent taste.
When I was done scrubbing the road dust off, I put on the pajamas, slippers and robe and found my way to the kitchen, which took a while since it had been at least 10 years since I'd last visited my grandparents. The supper table was all set as I remembered grandma's taste; elegant yet understated. The scent of her cooking smacked me in the face, making my mouth water. I had forgotten how great the woman's cooking was. She told me the meat was freshly butchered. "I always get my pick of the best beef and lamb that the rancher down the road gives me before sending the animals off to be summarily done in. I always thought Bob Jones was just being nice, but I recently discovered he wanted some of my meat in return."
I again blushed, never having heard my grandmother talk like that.
"But I made it clear to him I had no interest in that kind of tradeoff. The man seemed disappointed, but not angry. But even though he's often propositioned me, and I've always told him to shove it, he still treats me like a lady. Kind of like your grandpa did.
"I never really told anyone this, but your grandfather was closeted all his life. I promised him I'd keep his secret since it would have caused a scandal even in this day and age. But after he gave me a child, he revealed his secret desire for men. I never let him touch me after that. I haven't had a man in nearly 20 years," she sighed. "Well, let's hope that changes soon," she said, resting a hand on my thigh. I nearly choked on the beef I was chewing. But I really didn't think she meant what I thought she did, though it had been a while for me, too. My girlfriend of three years broke up with a few months prior, and I'd grown tired of spending my time with old issues of Hustler and a few porn videos.
"Grandma, do you have internet here?"
