The Smile Center’s aromatic collage of fresh cinnamon pastries, vanilla coffee and omelets might make you forget you’d already eaten breakfast. The tantalizing scent flowed from the center’s café, where Samantha Ryde served the morning customers.
Samantha was a cheerful Jamaican woman. She often left people in doubt with an answer of twenty-seven because her creamy brown skin and shiny thick curls made her look much younger. She could’ve been the world’s greatest server if Treen hadn’t hired her as the Smile Center manager. Although Treen was only sixteen, Samantha looked up to her and they’d become as close as sisters.
Samantha put down a trey of pastries when Treen strolled by the Café. She dashed after her boss, snaring her attention near the winding staircase that led up to Treen’s office.
“Good morning girlfriend!” said Samantha, “I have your schedule ready.” She studied Treen’s filthy pants. “How was your gardening?”
“Fantastic,” said Treen, glowing. “It’s a beautiful morning and I’m looking forward to the barbeque this afternoon.”
“Then come with me,” she said, taking Treen’s hand, “Let me show you what little work you have today.” They locked arms and walked towards Samantha’s office.
Samantha sat behind her desk to finish plans for the 12:00 barbeque while Treen paced, fiddling with her earring as she studied her schedule. Her three o’clock appointment — the last of the day — hooked her attention.
“The Wellbays? That name sounds familiar, but I don’t remember counseling them.”
“They never have been to the Smile Center, honey. Mrs. Wellbay called this morning and say the problems between her husband and son be way out of control. She say they must come today. On the phone with her, I hear a loud struggle in the background.”
“Sounds serious. Maybe they can come over now. What’s their son’s name?”
“Russell,” Samantha said, handing over the Family Info sheet. Treen studied the page then called the Wellbays, who agreed to come straight over. “I’ll run upstairs and change,” she said, handing the phone back to Samantha then rushing out the door.
A short time later, a man and woman clad in dark business suits strolled through the foyer then stopped near Samantha’s open door.
Their loud, tense talk was not the public behavior you’d expect from a distinguished looking couple in their late forties.
“What are we doing here?” the man grumbled, flinging his hands up. “This place isn’t going to help us,”
“One way or the other, we are going to save our relationship with Russell,” said the woman, adjusting her sparkling necklace. She tossed her short brown hair then added, “If it weren’t for your rotten attitude — ”
“Don’t start with me Catherine,” he said, pointing at her, “I’ve already been blasted enough by Mr. Blue for missing work again today...”
On and on he complained about Russell, work, and life in general, interrupting whenever Catherine tried to respond. She seemed weary of his tirade, rolling her eyes enough to convince anyone to be quiet — except him.
By now, Samantha knew they were the Wellbays. She’d stood from her desk, taken a bottomless breath, then murmured, “Well, here I go.” She moved her long curls from her eyes, then marched out to greet the fiery couple.
“Welcome to the Smile Center!” Samantha hollered, as if filming a commercial. Mr. Wellbay turned slowly to face her, then displayed a granite-like expression that made her wide-open arms fold gradually until her hands clasped together.
However, Mrs. Wellbay smiled and politely introduced herself and her husband. The two women shook hands and strolled towards The Café. Mr. Wellbay ran his fingers through his hair then surprisingly followed them.
Upstairs, Treen had changed into a different corduroy suit — a brown one with her usual matching corduroy headband. She applied eyeliner then brushed her long, tan-colored hair that matched her skin tone perfectly. Her dramatic green eyes and contagious smile often astonished people and they usually didn’t hesitate to tell her how pretty she looked. She’d always offer a polite thank you, but the compliments made her uncomfortable. She’d just never get used to that sort of attention — proof that family counselors also have hang ups...
Suddenly the office door opened. She thought it was Samantha showing the Wellbays inside, until a variety of young, disagreeing voices filled the room.
“April 26!” shouted one boy. “Is not!” hollered another.
“If you would both listen to me you will learn something. It’s April 22 — end of story,” proclaimed the third.
“Can’t wait to hear what this is all about,” said Treen. She stepped out of the bathroom into the office area, where the boys had encircled her desk. They were loaded with books, papers, and pencils — even though school didn’t start for another two weeks. Treen approached the lanky boy who towered between the shorter ones. All three wore window-sized glasses, matching brown blazers and faded jeans. Maybe they were brothers.
“What’s the problem here?” she asked cheerfully, fastening her headband.
“There is an argument about the correct birth date of William Shakespeare,” said the lanky boy, gesturing with his pencil. “Please confirm my answer of April 22, 1564, so we can end this discussion.”
The other boys snickered when Treen shook her head in disagreement: “Shakespeare was born at Stratford on Avon, Warwickshire, in 1564, but the actual date is unknown. You see, he was baptized in the Holy Trinity Church on April 26 and since children were usually baptized a few days after their birth, his birthday is celebrated on April 23,” she added, as the phone began to beep. The boys’ mouths hung open while Treen spoke to Samantha about the Wellbays’ arrival. “Send them up.” She then led the boys to the door and wished them good luck with their studies.
Treen stood outside the office as the Wellbays walked down the hall. Although Mrs. Wellbay approached with a warm smile and shook her hand, Mr. Wellbay kept his palms in his pockets and nodded through the doorway without making eye contact.
Mr. Wellbay walked up behind his wife, who’d stopped near Treen’s desk. She shook her head and whispered, “Beautiful,” while glaring at the mahogany wood floor, Cantera stone fireplace, and antique furniture. Mrs. Wellbay scanned it all as if she were window-shopping. She complimented Treen on the tasteful design, but except for the loaded bookshelves, Treen swayed all the credit to her mother.
“Can we get on with this?” Mr. Wellbay groaned.
“Yes,” Treen said politely, leading them to the couches near the fireplace. They declined her offer of a beverage — although Mr. Wellbay embarrassed his wife by suggesting a shot of Tequila. A huge gap separated the couple after they’d sat.
“Tell me about Russell,” said Treen, sitting across from them. “He’s a pain in the head and I’m sick of it,” said Mr. Wellbay, looking around the room.
“What exactly is he doing that’s causing your…migraine?” asked Treen. Mrs. Wellbay giggled.
“All summer he’s done nothing but smoke cigarettes and roam the streets — looking for some rock band to join,” he said, flinging his hand up. “When school starts, he’ll skip classes. If he doesn’t skip, he’ll find a way to get thrown out of Mallyview High and I’ll miss more work trying to get him back in. To sum it all up, he’s a loser.”
“Walter, please don’t call him names,” said Mrs. Wellbay.
“Catherine, stop defending that little punk. He walks all over us!”
“If you would stop insulting him constantly, maybe he would respect — and listen to you,” said Mrs. Wellbay.
“He only listens to me when I call him a jerk.”
“Mr. Wellbay, you can’t extinguish your son’s fire with gasoline.”
“I want him to realize how stupid he’s behaving. I’m a busy man. What’ll I do, hand him flowers and sing a lullaby?”
“That’s better than degrading him,” said Treen.
“He’s a good boy. He just has different interests than his father,” said Mrs. Wellbay, glancing at him.
“What are your interests, Mr. Wellbay?”
“I’m an engineer,” he said, staring at the pen he clicked nervously under his thumb. “Robotics and money are my interests.”
“That’s where I’ve seen your name before; I read your article in the Mallyview Daily about the future use of androids in Blue Neptune’s factories. Very interesting.”
Mr. Wellbay finally smiled. “Thank you, but it’ll be more interesting when it actually happens — and it will. That’s why my boss pays me so well.”
“Garrison Blue is a generous man,” said Treen. “He’s donated all the computers for my father’s Bookvilla, which opens in Grevelton next week.”
“So I’ve heard. But why would your father open a bookstore in grimy place like Grevelton? Mallyview Bookvilla not doing so well?”
“Mallyview Bookvilla is doing wonderful. He’s opening the Grevelton bookstore to help the city. Maybe other businesses will follow. Right now it’s too dangerous for the kids to play