"Gilligan's Acres" Chapter 7
Title: Gilligan's Acres
Chapter 7
Author: Karen (kirsdarke)
Pairings: Mary Ann/Gilligan, Ginger/Professor
Rating: G
Summary: A friend of the Howells rescues the castaways and then dies and leaves them a farm
Disclaimer: Yeah. I wish I owned GI
Note: Un-betaed. More character moments than plot development in this chapter. Not sure how I feel about it, to be honest.
Chapter Seven
Frederick
After the funeral, the Howell home was filled with mourners. Mr. Howell ventured back into the kitchen, where all the servants were busy with drinks and hor d'oeuvres for the guests, and found Celia, the cook.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
"No," she said quickly. She put on a smile. "I mean...you just worry about your guests. We'll worry about the food."
She hurried him out.
The rest of the castaways were in the drawing room, gathered around Mrs. Howell. Gilligan was pulling uncomfortably on his tie.
"Gilligan," Skipper said impatiently. "Will you stop fidgeting with your tie?"
"Sorry, Skipper," he said. "I'm not used to being so dressed up."
"I think you look nice, Gilligan," Mary Ann said.
"Thanks, Mary Ann," he said with a smile.
"That was a lovely service, Mrs. Howell," Ginger said. She gave a small smile, but her eyes were still red from crying.
"Thank you, darling," Mrs. Howell said. Mr. Howell sat down next to her. "It is a shame that we had to make the arrangements, but Frederick didn't have any family."
"That's so sad," Mary Ann said.
"You wouldn't say that if you were related to him," Mr. Howell said jokingly.
"Thurston," Mrs. Howell chastised him.
"Oh, come, Lovey. Frederick was always the first to laugh at a joke. Especially one of his own." Mr. Howell laughed loudly. Several people turned and looked.
A man appeared out of the crowd and approached the group. He had slicked-back black hair and wore a dark gray silk suit.
"Thurston, old man," he said excitedly. "I haven't seen you in years."
"Four and a half," Gilligan said helpfully. The Professor's elbow suddenly jerked into Gilligan's side.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Gilligan," he said.
"That's okay, Professor." Gilligan rubbed his side and eyed the Professor suspiciously.
"This is Leonard Goldman," Mr. Howell said. "He's Frederick's attorney."
"Lovey," Mr. Goldman said with a smile. "As beautiful as always."
"Hello, Leonard," Mrs. Howell said. "These are our friends."
"Hello, Friends," he said. "Thurston, may I speak to you for a moment?"
"Yes, of course," Mr. Howell said. "Excuse me." He followed Mr. Goldman out of the room.
"You know, Mr. Howell has the right idea," the Professor said. "In many cultures, funerals are seen as celebrations of the deceased's life as well as a chance to mourn the death. In fact, in New Orleans, funerals are often accompanied by parades."
"Well then it's very fortunate that Frederick didn't live there," Mrs. Howell said. "He didn't care for parades at all. Although he did adore parties."
"Maybe he just didn't like walking," Gilligan said.
"Lovey!" A woman hurried up and gave Mrs. Howell a hug.
"Hello, Evelyn," Mrs. Howell said. "These are our friends from the island."
Evelyn looked at the group over her shoulder.
"Hello," she said casually. She turned away from them and the women were soon lost in their own conversation.
The castaways split apart, moving away to other parts of the room. Ginger found a small sofa in the corner and took a seat. The Professor hesitated for a few seconds, then sat down next to her.
"Hello," she said happily. They hadn't had a chance to talk since she'd arrived.
"Hello," he said.
"We haven't gotten a chance to talk about you," she said.
"What about me?"
"What have you been doing since we've been back?"
"Oh, I've gone back to teaching. I found a position at a university."
"That's wonderful," Ginger said.
"How have you been? Do you like living in New York?"
"Oh, yes. It's very exciting. Even if the play is terrible."
"Oh, it's not-"
"You don't have to be nice, Professor."
"Well, it does leave something to be desired, especially compared to the source material."
"I know." She leaned back against the sofa. "I should've read the script first. At first, I thought it was going to be my big comeback. And then I thought it would just be some good work until I could get back on my feet or I got another offer."
She fell silent, lost in her own thoughts. The Professor waited for a few seconds, then asked, "And?"
"Nothing. Not so much as a glance in my direction. Hollywood's forgotten me."
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true."
"Well, it's either that, or someone recognized me from our movie."
"Well I profess I don't know much about show business, Ginger, but I don't see how that could hurt your career. After all, we won Cannes."
Ginger laughed.
"You're very sweet, Professor. Thank you."
"My pleasure," he said with a smile.
The Skipper took a drink and disappeared from the crowds, into a small hallway off the main entrance. There he found two large, comfortable armchairs and let himself relax in one.
After a few minutes, the door opened and Mr. Howell came in, also carrying a drink.
"Oh, Captain. So this is where you disappeared to," Mr. Howell said.
"I hope you don't mind, Mr. Howell," Skipper said.
"Of course not. As long as you don't mind my joining you."
"Please."
Mr. Howell took a seat in the other armchair, next to the Skipper.
"No offense, Mr. Howell," Skipper said. "Everyone's very nice. I'm just not used to these high-society things."
"Yes, it can be rather exhausting at times."
"It seems Mr. Friedman had a lot of friends."
"Yes, it seems so. Of course, from what I've gathered, many of them haven't spoken to him since his little farming stint."
The Skipper did a small double take.
"Really?" he asked.
"Yes. The concensus is that he lost a few of his marbles."
"That's too bad," Skipper said sadly. "He was a good man."
"He was," Mr. Howell said firmly. "He really was."
Skipper couldn't help but be moved by Mr. Howell's obvious affection for his late friend. The two had had many differences and arguments over the years, but Howell had consistently proven himself to be have a heart of gold.
"Mr. Howell," Skipper said. "I know that over the years, we've had our differences and sometimes I've lost my temper and said things. I just want to say that I....well, I didn't mean all of them. When it comes right down to it, I consider you a friend."
"Likewise, Captain," Mr. Howell said with a smile. He held up his drink. "A toast?"
"Sure."
"To Frederick."
"To Frederick," the Skipper agreed.
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