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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Mar 23, 2008 14:07:42 GMT -5
“Our first incident with him occurred on Thanksgiving,” Esmé explained. “Jerome had gone out to purchase a bottle of wine, while Carmelita and I stayed home. I was three months pregnant with Emma at the time. Carmelita and I were in one of the sitting rooms when we heard the doorbell ring, and she went to answer it. We thought it was the caterers Jerome had hired to cook dinner for us, but instead it was Jerome’s father, Maxwell Squalor.
“When Carmelita didn’t come back within ten minutes, I decided that something had to be wrong. So I left the sitting room and headed for the front door. I got there just in time, because if I hadn’t then Maxwell would have struck her.” Esmé paused and looked down. “Just like Olaf used to strike me.”
The eyes of everyone at the table wandered to each other. Everyone was speechless… particularly the Baudelaires, who had always been under the impression that Esmé and Olaf were equally villainous— or at least to some extent. Esmé had already proven to them just how much she had changed.
“Esmé,” Jerome said, and rested his hand on hers. “Darling, you never told me that.”
“That’s only because I knew it would upset you,” she said. “And I’d already done so much of that already, the idea of doing it again just… I don’t know. I’m sorry, Jerome.”
Carmelita could sense her adoptive mother’s discomfort, and so made an effort to step in. “Esmé isn’t the only one who’s had trouble with Maxwell Squalor,” she said. “I, too, was involved in an incident other than the one that occurred on that Thanksgiving morning.”
“What do you mean, Carmy?” Nero asked.
Carmelita lowered her eyes to her wine as she continued: “The summer I was thirteen, I was alone in the penthouse babysitting Emma. Maxwell Squalor came to the door, and I was just foolish enough to open it. Almost from the moment I did I was sorry. The next thing I knew, he was kissing me, and I had to lift my hand and strike him across the face just to get him to stop.”
“Carmelita,” Nero said. “You… you never told me about that.”
“It’s not exactly something I care to bring up.”
“I’m sorry,” Klaus said. “It wasn’t my intention to bring up any unpleasantness. I was just—”
“No one is blaming you, Klaus,” Esmé said gently. “And it’s my fault for dragging up the past in the first place. I just thought that since we’ve been spending so much time together— not to mention we’re all involved in what could turn out to be the trial of the century —then I might as well tell you more about what we’ll be facing.”
“I was never even under the impression that you had parents, Jerome,” Klaus said. “I guess it never occurred to me.”
“Well,” Jerome said, “that’s perfectly understandable. I imagine you and your sisters would be too preoccupied with wondering when and where Count Olaf was going to turn up next to think of other things.”
[And don’t worry about not posting lately. I know you’re busy with school and that you have a life, so don’t feel bad about it. *hugs*]
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Post by Jenny on Mar 24, 2008 16:48:47 GMT -5
The Baudelaire's nodded thoughtfully at that comment. As teenagers they had thought of little else but escaping Olaf's clutches and foiling the villans constant new schemes. They had never fully gotten rid of the image int heir minds of Olaf's death--and they had never banished the memory of his helping Kit before he died. It was strange how people had the capacity for such nobility and such evil.
'Fernald will bring up my involvement in Olaf's schemes in the trial,' she mused. 'Mr Widdershins--' she stuttered, and chuckled. 'Hooky is the sort of man who will get some sort of comfort from taking somebody else down with him. And there were countless crimes for which I was never punished.'
Jeorme hummed nervously to himself.
'You were a minor,' he excused. 'And forced into it.'
Esmé felt like pointing out that Jacques's murder happened long after she had been under Olaf's control, but she held her tongue and smiled instead.
'Do you think we should have talked a little more to Mr McGuire?' Esmé asked, biting her lip. 'Do you think we should told him more about...things? The past? So that nobody gets any nasty surprises at the trial? What if--'
'There's nothing to worry about, dear,' Jerome interrupted, and Violet herself had to smile at how much Jerome could command a room with such a soft voice. 'If you want to speak to Mr McGuire. we can telephone him tomorrow, or make another appointment.' He coughed, and looked sideways to her. 'And I don't have to be present, if you don't want me to.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Mar 24, 2008 20:45:23 GMT -5
Esmé shook her head. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “But no. You are as much a part of this as I am, and I need you with me. I don’t… I can’t face this alone, Jerome.”
“All right, then,” he said. “We’ll make an appointment for as soon as possible. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Esmé,” Carmelita said, “Jerome. If it will help you in any way, I’d be glad to accompany you to the lawyer’s office.”
“Thank you, Carmelita,” Esmé said. “We appreciate the offer. But we’ll see. First we have to make the appointment.”
Of course, what she was really thinking was of were the topics that would be discussed behind the closed door of Collin McGuire’s office. Although Carmelita already knew a significant portion of the crimes Esmé and Olaf had committed— along with Fernald Widdershins —there were also things that Carmelita did not know about; things that Esmé had planned to keep secret from her adopted daughter. Jerome had gotten so upset when she had told him of the incident involving the parents of Camilla Crawthorne? Carmelita had only just stopped having nightmares in relation to the death of Dewey Denouement and the fire that had destroyed his hotel a few years ago.
Carmelita smiled gently. “All right,” she replied. “Well, I’d better get into the kitchen and start preparing your meals. I won’t be long.” As she rose from the table, she turned to her fiancée and added, “Behave yourself, Nero.”
Violet and Klaus each had to stifle a giggle, while Esmé and Jerome smiled slightly. Nero, however, just looked embarrassed.
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Post by Jenny on Apr 19, 2008 8:17:01 GMT -5
Whilst Nero stared down at his belly, over which lay his snail-patterned tie that he so treasured, Esmé rapped her long red fingernails on the table top in front of her, never quite losing her alarmed stance. Jerome returned solemnly to his glass of wine, and thought.
Jerome never had been much of a good liar, but maybe lying was just the thing they would have to do this time. Would it matter much to anyone that Esmé had 'changed'? The fact was, she had still been involved in what must have been twenty murders, maybe more, and perhaps the murderer herself, once or twice. Jerome shuddered to think of it, but forced himself to for the sake of his wife's freedom. He believed her when she told him that Fernald would do all he could to make life as awful as possible for everyone else, but Jerome wasn't about to lose his wife over crimes she commited years ago.
Maybe they would need to bend the truth a little.
If they told Mr McGuire that Esmé herself had never been involved in any fires whatsoever, if they told him that none of Count Olaf's notorious arson attacks and murders had beena nything to dow ith her at all, then perhaps they could simply deny the accusations. After all, where was their evidence? Nobody else in the courtroom was going to know anything about Count Olaf, let alone have met Esmé. Surely no one would know if they lied?
For once, the immorality didn't so much bother Jerome. If it would keep his wife and Emma and Carmelita's mother out of jail, he was willing to do it. Fernald was just a psychopath anyway, what did he know?
For once, Jerome hoped no one else had survived the fire, lest someone show up and ruin his plans.
'....Jerome?'
It was Violet's voice from across the table, and all four of the occupants were examining him a little strnagely, except Nero still seemed a little more interested in his tie than Jerome's strange behaviour.
'Are you quite alright?'
He cleared his throat, and sat up straight again. 'Yes, Violet. I'm quite alright.'
She didn't blush, and Klaus felt a wash of relief that perhaps his sister was getting over her foolish crush. 'I was asking if you knew who the judge was yet?'
At the mention of the word 'judge', Esmé let out a shaky little breath, and Carmelita returned , carrying as many plates as she possibly could without dropping anything. She had managed to carry four lots of salmon mousse to the table, and returned with the remaining two in the blink of an eye.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Apr 19, 2008 11:22:14 GMT -5
[Yay, Jenny's back! ;D *blows up balloons and puts a party hat on you*]
Jerome waited until Carmelita had finished delivering everyone’s orders and sat down beside Nero before answering.
“Justice Strauss,” Jerome replied, and felt his wife’s fingers tighten around his. “You might remember her from—”
“The time we spent with Olaf,” Klaus said, and Esmé felt her body jerk at the mention of her ex-boyfriend’s name.
“And the Hotel Denouement,” Violet added.
Jerome looked to his left and noticed that Esmé seemed to be having a hard time sitting still. Her behavior reminded him greatly of Emma as a toddler, when her parents had taken her out to the Veritable French Diner and not but twenty minutes later she was squirming in her seat.
Jerome lowered his head in an attempt to speak to Esmé as privately as possible. “Darling,” he whispered, “what is it?”
“Justice Strauss?” she whispered back. “The same Justice Strauss we all met at the Hotel Denouement nearly thirteen years ago? Jerome, how could you let Collin McGuire hire her? She knows all about me, and all of the horrible things that I did! She’ll throw both me and Hooky in prison, and the only way I’ll ever get to see you or our girls is through steel bars.” Tears burned the backs of her eyes and quickly slipped out of the corners, rolling down her cheeks. She knew she was making a scene in front of everyone, but she didn’t care.
Jerome picked up his napkin from the table and gently wiped away Esmé’s tears. He didn’t feel in the least embarrassed, but rather concerned, and nearly forgot that they were being observed as he leaned forward to kiss her on the nose. “That isn’t going to happen, Esmé,” he replied. “Justice Strauss is not only a very fair person, but a very understanding one. All you have to do is prove to her how much you’ve changed, which shouldn’t be difficult at all. Everyone at this table has already witnessed your true capabilities; they’ve how much you love your daughters, as well as”— here was where he felt himself blush —“as well as me.”
Klaus sighed, and everyone turned to look at him. Meeting his former guardian’s eyes, he said, “You aren’t a wicked person, Esmé. I know that now. I’ll admit that at first, I believed that the kindness you were showing to my sisters and me was all an act— perhaps even some sick reiteration of the past. But I know now that I was wrong, and that you truly do regret everything you did to us. I don’t hate you… I don’t think I ever did. My sisters and I even cried for you, along with all the people we believed had died in the fire, both noble and treacherous alike. But you, Esmé, you aren’t treacherous. I see now that you are a noble woman who has made many mistakes, and even though they were terrible, I believe you when you say you’re sorry.” Klaus gave Esmé a reassuring smile. “I also know real tears when I see them.”
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Post by Jenny on Apr 19, 2008 12:49:42 GMT -5
Esmé was inexplainably thankful for Klaus's words, not only because she had wondered many times whether she would ever be able to change his opinion of her, but also because they were extremely comforting. Jerome nodded in Klaus's direction with a smile, and Esmé took her husband's hankerchief and continued to dab at her eyes.
'Thank you, Klaus,' she said quietly. 'That is more than I could ever have expected, considering my behaviour towards you fourteen years ago.'
Carmelita looked more worried than all of them, and while Klaus simply smiled and continued with his food, she caught her step father's eye.
'Justice Strauss?' she asked, and she was ashamed at herself for how weak her voice had sounded. 'The same Justice Strauss that--'
'--That we encountered at the Hotel Denoument Carmy, yes,' her adoptive mother replied, the remainder of her tears gone.
Carmelita's mouth fell open, and she turned to Jerome accusingly. 'Nobody's that understanding, Jerome! How could you have been so foolish?'
Jerome felt embarrassed, then, but Violet spoke up. 'No, no, I don't think Jerome hs been foolish at all,' and Carmelita looked a little angry at that. 'Klaus and I are involved in this, and if your character does come into question, Justice Strauss will most certainly believe us.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Apr 19, 2008 13:43:11 GMT -5
Carmelita’s azure orbs widened at Violet’s words. “You would do that for us?” Carmelita asked. “Even after all Esmé and I did to you, you and your siblings would protect us?”
“Yes,” Klaus said before Violet could. “You were only a child back then, Carmelita… just a few years younger than me. And Esmé was… well… she was misguided. You both deserve to be forgiven, and my siblings and I are more than ready to do that. We are also ready to stand along with Jerome and see to it that Fernald Widdershins gets what’s coming to him.”
As Carmelita smiled at the middle Baudelaire, she felt her eyes fill with tears. She wanted to say that she didn’t deserve the kindness of him and his sister, and perhaps Carmelita would have had it not been for Esmé sitting across from them. Instead, Carmelita reached over and laid one hand on each of the Baudelaires’.
“Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea what this means to us, or what it will mean to Emma.”
“Actually,” Jerome said, and everyone turned to look at him, “it would probably be best if we kept the details of the trial to ourselves for the time being. If she asks, I suppose it wouldn’t be unwise to answer whatever questions she may have, but let’s all try our best to keep our answers as simple as possible. She’s very impressionable, and might take something we say the wrong way.”
“So is Beatrice,” Violet said, and Klaus nodded in agreement. “Sunny, not so much, but I do agree with your statement, Jerome. It would be a good idea not to speak about the trial in front of the children, for their sake.”
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Post by Jenny on Apr 20, 2008 9:35:35 GMT -5
Carmelita had started to worry the moment Jerome had mentioned keeping things a secret from Emma, and now she was biting the inside of her lip, and picking idly at her food. Emma had a way of always finding out about everything--something her parents should really have been used to. Carmelita knew she no longer lived at the penthouse, and she knew that it wasn't her hapiness and freedom in question, but she still felt very much a part of the family and very much involved.
She decided she might bring up her concerns later on to her adoptive father (she was always cautious of upsetting Esmé, no matter how much she loved her), and in the meantime she gently elbowed Nero, who was still looking blatantly uninterested and staring down at his tie. He was so emabarrassing sometimes, especially in front of her adoptive parents. He'd finished his food seconds after she ahd placed it in front of him, in a very ungentlemanly manner.
'What?' he inquired.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Apr 20, 2008 12:28:34 GMT -5
“You couldn’t have taken a little more time?” Carmelita asked in a hushed whisper.
“With what?”
Carmelita motioned with her head to Nero’s empty plate. “Honestly, Nero. Everyone else has just started eating, and when I look your plate is completely empty.”
“Well, I was hungry,” Nero whispered back. “And besides, I can’t very well participate in the conversation since I wasn’t present at the…” He trailed off, not wanting to risk upsetting everyone— particularly his future mother-in-law, who had barely begun to recover from her crying episode —at the table, or to be the object of Carmelita’s wrath later on. “…at your parents’ home during the incident involving Mr. Widdershins.”
Carmelita nodded, realizing that Nero had a point. Besides, she really was in no mood to get into a spat with him right here in front of everyone. They didn’t argue often, but when they did it was usually loud and Carmelita always ended up winning. But she really didn’t need an excuse for Esmé to take her aside and give her an I-told-you-so-speech, either.
“Well,” Carmelita said, turning to her adoptive parents and smiling, “you should all probably finish your meal and get back to the penthouse before the kids get home.”
“Carmelita,” Esmé said, “would you and Nero like to come for dinner tonight?”
Carmelita, Nero, and Jerome all stared at Esmé in blatant shock.
Esmé coughed lightly and uncomfortably into her hand. “I thought I could cook. And besides, it would give us a more private atmosphere to discuss matters.”
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Post by Jenny on Apr 20, 2008 13:12:05 GMT -5
Jerome had looked alarmed when Esmé had asked their adoptive daughter and future son in law to dinner, and this didn't cover the expression on his face when she had started to talk about cooking. Of course, he supported his wife in all her endeavors, but these endeavours usually weren't of the culinary kind. He and Carmelita happened to be fairly talented chefs (Carmelita more so that Jerome himself, but she did have a restaurant), and so Esmé--and her daughter--left the cooking to them.
Not to mention the fact that last time Esmé had attempted to cook him breakfast, she burned the toast into piles of ash, and destroyed the eggs beyond recognition, not to mention what she had managed to do with the sausages.
He risked a sideways glance, and then thought better of it. He would discuss it with her later, and give her some assistance in the kitchen, but otherwise he would leave it to her.
Carmelita looked just as momentarily concerned as he was, but smiled all the same. 'We would love to come to dinner, Esmé,' she said, and squeezed her husband's hand a little too tightly. If he said anything, he'd be in for it later on.
Nero managed to restrain himself somehow, and simply smiled in his soon-to-be mother in law's direction (it was very odd to think of her as his mother in law, particularly as he was everal years older than she was).
There were few other people in the restaurant, and Violet and Klaus put the pieces together. 'We might go out,' Klaus started, referring to himself and his other siblings. 'After all, things could be a little awkward with us around. And if Beatrice was absent, Emma might be a little less likely to cook up a plan to eavesdrop.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Apr 20, 2008 16:39:26 GMT -5
Jerome nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, you could be right,” he agreed. “Thank you for your concern, Klaus.” “Come by around seven,” Esmé told Carmelita and Nero. “I’m sure Emma will be thrilled when we tell her that you’ll be joining us for dinner.” Of course, Esmé was mostly referring more to Carmelita than Nero, but Esmé doubted that her future son-in-law would be able to sense it. --- Half an hour later, the Squalors and the Baudelaires were all back together at the penthouse. Klaus was in the library reading up on the history of law and justice with the belief that the more knowledge he had of such things, the better the trial would go over. Violet had gone downstairs to the lobby to wait for her sisters’ (and Emma’s) school bus to arrive. Esmé and Jerome were in the kitchen with the blue stove where he was attempting to speak to her about her plans for preparing a meal, but getting nowhere. “Darling,” he said from his place at the table, “are you sure you wouldn’t like any help?” “For the last time, Jerome,” Esmé said as she read the directions on the back of a box of frozen peas (was there even a possibility that someone, no matter how poor their cooking skills may have been, could possibly ruin frozen vegetables?). “I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own. After all, how hard can it be?” “I don’t mean to burst your balloon, sweet, but do you remember the last time you tried to cook me breakfast? It didn’t exactly go over to well, from what I can recall.” “Oh, Jerome, that was ages ago! And I’ve been improving besides.” “It was a month ago,” Jerome replied gently. “And you have? Really?” This was something he needed to actually see with his own two eyes before he believed it. “Yes,” Esmé replied. “I made cupcakes for Emma’s entire acting class.” Jerome’s eyes widened. “All forty-four of them?” “Forty- five. I also included Mr. St. Clair.”
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Post by Jenny on Apr 21, 2008 14:20:36 GMT -5
'And they ate them?'
'Yes, of course.'
'So....you were there when they ate them?'
She twirled around and pushed him, pink lips pouting as usual. 'I'm not that bad a cook, Jerome!' she laughed, but her eyes were a little cross. 'Those cupcakes were nice. You're just jealous I didn't make one for you.'
He placed his hands on his wife's arms, and pressed his lips against her jaw as she sulkily turned away from him.
'Oh, darling, don't stay angry with me,' he said softly, and turned back to the recipe book she had set out in front of her to help. 'This seems a little ambitious, even for such a seasoned chef as yourself.....'
She slapped him gently on the shoulder at that, and knelt down to open the cupboard near the floor, retreiving a seive and some scales and setting them up on the worksurface.
'If you insist on interfering with my cookery, then you can do something useful,' she said playfully, and he obediently looked over at the recipe book, taking the flour in his left hand. 'I'm afriad you'll have to help me,' he said. 'I haven't got my reading glasses, and I'm finding this a bit difficult to read.'
She paused, and frowned down at the book on the tabletop.
'Maybe you could do the cooking,' she said quietly, sheepishly, and he resisted a chuckle. 'And I could read the instructions.'
'And we'll say you cooked it.'
'Of course.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Apr 21, 2008 16:30:36 GMT -5
“Fair enough,” Jerome said. He picked up the cookbook and handed it to his wife. She took it from him and then sat down at the table.
“I thought I—” Esmé began, then paused. “That is, you— I mean, I thought we could make fettuccini with cream sauce.”
“Have you ever tried your hand at that before?”
“Well, I was going to once, but my nails kept getting in the way. More fettuccini ended up on the floor than in the pot.”
Jerome reached up above his head and opened the cabinet from where he retrieved a fresh package of fettuccini. After setting it down on the countertop, he turned to his wife and smiled. Taking her by the hand, he twirled her around in a circle and she fell against his chest. As he looked down into her sky-blue eyes, he smiled at the blush creeping into her cheeks.
“You look very beautiful when you blush, darling,” Jerome said. “I don’t know if I ever told you that.”
“You just surprised me,” Esmé replied with a small smile. “That’s all. You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. The fact that you’re willing to lie just to protect me is more than I ever could have expected, or even deserve.” Esmé felt ready to cry, but instead she just wrapped her arms around her husband and rested her cheek against his chest.
“I promised you, didn’t I?” Jerome said. “And I intend to keep that promise. No matter what.”
“Oh, Jerome…”
Jerome smiled, and kissed Esmé on the lips once more. “We should get started on dinner as soon as possible, though. What section of the refrigerator do you keep the cream in?”
“It’s in the bottom drawer,” Esmé replied. “First one on the left.”
Jerome turned to head over to the refrigerator, only to have Esmé grab his hand. Lifting it to her lips, she kissed it, and Jerome smiled.
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Post by Jenny on May 14, 2008 12:27:09 GMT -5
[Post that Jenny hasn't written...]
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on May 14, 2008 15:22:53 GMT -5
[Sorry this took so long. I was posting the next chapter of my fic and realized I had to go back and edit some stuff. ;D]
The sound of approaching footsteps suddenly caught their attention. They turned toward the entrance of the kitchen to see Emma standing with Sunny and Beatrice.
“Hello, girls,” Esmé said. “How was school?”
“It was okay,” Emma said as she walked into the kitchen and gave each of her parents a hug. “How was your day?”
“Uneventful.”
Jerome sensed the nervousness in Esmé’s voice, and stepped in before things got anymore awkward. “Would you like a snack?” he asked the children.
They nodded.
“I’ll make it,” Sunny said as she entered the kitchen, followed by Beatrice. “You two look like you’ve already got your hands full.”
“We were right about to start dinner,” Esmé said.
“Jerome’s letting you help him?” Emma asked as she sat down at the table.
Esmé looked a little annoyed by the comment, though it was understandable since she had not cooked anything ever since the ill-fated cupcake incident. “Yes, darling. We were planning on having fettuccini with clam sauce.”
Jerome had since retrieved the cream from out of the refrigerator and had set it down on the countertop. Turning to Esmé, he asked, “Sweetheart, would you find me the big metal pot?” He wanted to give her something to do and make her feel that she did have a hand in preparing dinner now that they could no longer pretend she had done it all on her own.
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