Bob-White Players Present: The Foreigner

The Bob-White Players present: The Foreigner

Standard disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me and I make no money from them. I only love them and wish to play with them every now and again.

"The Bob-White Players" present their version of Larry Shue's "The Foreigner". They got together without me and decided to make a few changes to the storyline and humbly beg your forgiveness.

Friday afternoon

"Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait: they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease." ~ Anthony Trollope

"Dan, please, I truly appreciate your bringing me along on this trip," Jim Frayne, II said to his friend of the last twenty years, "But you know I'm not in any mood to visit people in the backwoods of America." He ran his fingers through his unruly red hair and stared miserably around him.

Staff Sergeant Dan Mangan looked quietly amused. "Jim, I'd hardly call Upstate New York the 'backwoods of America'. These are good people here in Sleepyside and Moms Belden runs the best bed and breakfast I've ever stayed at."

Jim paused and forced himself to appreciate the bucolic charm of the area. "It's just so different from Brooklyn," he said, tapping his laptop. "Good thing I brought my computer. I have a new manuscript to edit."

Dan opened his mouth to tell Jim the little farmhouse didn't have a WiFi connection but decided against it. He'd figure it out soon enough.

Jim walked into the cozy cheerful living room and looked around. "This does seem nice," he agreed. "And I guess it would be a nice place to forget about Dot."

Dan nodded and rang the little bell, letting Moms Belden know she had guests. "I'm sorry, Jim. I know being cheated on hurts."

Jim rolled his eyes and sat down in an overstuffed chair, careful to not wrinkle his Dockers. "Like any woman would find you 'Earth shatteringly, profoundly boring'."

Dan shrugged, accepting the truth in Jim's comments. "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I haven't had my heart broken by a woman."

Jim sighed, running a large freckled thumb across the crease in his pants. "I suppose I can't really blame her, Dan. I am boring." His voice raised more in question than a statement and Dan grinned.

"You're not boring, Jim. No one can be boring with a friend who blows things up for a living!"

Jim laughed at his antics. "Please tell me we didn't bring TNT into the countryside?"

Dan scoffed, "TNT? I haven't needed to use TNT since I was in grade school, dude. It's C-4 or it's nothing now!"

Jim nervously counted the number of tiles on the coffee table. "Tell me something, Dan. How does someone acquire a personality?"

"You have a personality!" Dan said, jovially, if not with a bit too much emphasis. "Yes, you're quiet, but you also tell the best stories. You remember all the details. You're a loyal friend."

"I sound like a dog," Jim countered. He sighed, miserably. "I'm neat."

"Neat is a personality trait," Dan said, with a small grin.

"I don't really want to be left alone for a weekend with a bunch of strangers," Jim complained, aware he was starting to whine. "You know how shy I am. You know how hard it is for me to talk with strangers."

"Leave that to me," Dan said, cheerfully. "I have a perfect solution!"

Dan seemed so delighted with his idea that Jim had serious doubts he would like it.

"Dan!" Moms said as she entered from the kitchen. "How are you, sweetie? I was so happy to see your name in the registry."

Dan brushed a kiss across Moms' cheek. "I love my yearly visits to Sleepyside, Moms. The Army never has to ask me twice to come to the area and show the locals the latest in explosives." With a flourish he handed Moms a small gift.

"For me?" she asks, flattered. "A spoon? Thank you, Dan! I'll add it to my collection." She showed Dan the small spoon rack by the fireplace. "I loved the one you brought me back from China." She squinted at the spoon in her hands. "Oh, it's a hula dancer." She turned the spoon to hang it on the rack. "Oh. My. Her skirt disappears when you hang her upside down!" she exclaimed. "Goodness, the things they come up with, Dan. Can you believe it?"

Dan laughed at her delight in the small gift. Jim rolled his eyes and pretended – as much as his ungainly 6'4" frame allowed – to become part of the furniture. Conversation was hard for him on a good day but after the events of the last several weeks, he felt hopelessly inadequate talking with strangers. Not for the first time, he wished he had Dan's natural gift of charming people. Perhaps he needed to schedule a trip to Ireland to kiss the Blarney stone Dan spoke so much of. Jim snorted derisively. Who was he kidding? Copy editors didn't fly off to foreign countries on a whim!

"Made in Taiwan," Moms read slowly. "My word, Dan, the places you've been amaze me!"

Dan had the good grace to blush as he glanced over at Jim's raised eyebrow. "Moms, I wanted to introduce you to an old friend, Jim." With a flourish he waved over to where Jim sat. In a stage whisper he said, "He's a foreigner, Moms. Doesn't speak much English."

Jim's jaw dropped in shock. What the hell? That was Dan's "great idea"? To tell everyone he couldn't speak English? Jim began to contradict Dan's outrageous statement but then thought twice. Maybe a quiet weekend with no one talking to him would be perfect.

Dan turned to him and in mangled German said, "Gohen mitt Moms Belden to your zimmer, ja?"

Jim gritted his teeth at Dan's condescending tone and nodded in agreement.

"I won't be back for dinner, Moms," Dan said, waving at them both as he strolled out of the snug farmhouse. "But save me a piece of pie for later?"

"Come follow me, Jim," Moms said, loudly.

Moms apparently subscribed to the idea that although foreigners may pretend otherwise, if English is spoken loudly enough, anyone can understand it.

Dutifully, Jim followed her up to his room, hung up his Dockers and Tommy Hilfiger shirts in the closet and placed his other things in the small dresser. He stored his suitcase in the closet and sat in a chair on the corner.

And stared.

He pulled out a Sudoku puzzle and started filling in numbers.

The afternoon waned and Jim realized that maybe, possibly, he was bored. Perhaps an entire weekend with no one talking to him wasn't the best thing in the world? But how would he go about interacting with people if everyone thought he couldn't speak English?

He wandered down into the living room and claimed a spot in front of a nice roaring fire. It was still early in the fall but the fire felt cozy and warm. He settled in with a new Sudoku puzzle.

Jim rose to help Moms carrying in more wood. "Thank you, Jim," she said, louder than strictly necessary. She paused when she saw a half-eaten apple on the wood pile. "Bobby!" she called.

Jim neatly stacked the rest of the wood as Moms went in search of whoever stirred her anger. "Bobby Belden, you get down here right now!"

Jim watched as a young man of possibly sixteen clattered down the stairs. "What's wrong, Moms?"

Moms held up the half-eaten apple. "Another apple, Bobby? Really? Food isn't to be wasted. The Apple Festival is coming up in three weeks. I don't mind you eating the apples, but we can't afford for you to waste food."

Bobby shook his head. "It wasn't me, Moms. I swear."

Moms didn't look convinced. "Are you suggesting your brother came home from his shift at the hospital in order to bite into an apple and throw it away? Or maybe your sister finished up processing a crime scene and wanted to re-create one here at home?"

Bobby shook his head, helpless in the face of his mother's logic. "Or maybe it was Mart?" she asked. "He finished writing a story for the Sleepyside Sun and then came over in order to blame you for a prank?"

"I don't know, Moms," Bobby said, helplessly. "All I know is that it wasn't me."

Moms sighed and began walking back into the kitchen before stopping to introduce Bobby to their guest. "Bobby, this is..." she pauses as she realized she didn't know her guest's last name. "Jim. Be nice. He doesn't speak English."

Jim smiled weakly. Why had he allowed Dan to lie?

To Jim she said, "I will be in the kitchen." She pantomimed her actions and pointed towards the other room. "Dinner will be in half an hour." She tapped her watch to emphasize the point.

Jim watched as Bobby glumly sat next to him. "I don't know why I always get blamed for everything. Moms said if we had another bad season, we might lose the farm." He tossed a small piece of kindling into the already crackling fire. "I don't want anything bad to happen to the farm. I love living here."

He looked at Jim. "Sorry, Moms said you didn't speak English. I guess you don't understand a word I'm saying. I just needed to talk and tell my side to someone who will listen." He glanced at his watch. "Guess I should go set the table. We're having company for dinner."

Jim nodded and smiled and Bobby seemed happy with his response.

A blond too handsome man walked into the room and Jim looked up from his puzzle. "Hey, Ben," Bobby greeted. With a wave of his hand, he indicated Jim. "This is our tenant for the weekend. His name is Jim. He doesn't speak English. He's a friend of Sargent Mangan."

Bobby left his side and joined his mother in the kitchen.

Ben stared at Jim for a long moment before reaching for an apple in a basket on the coffee table. "Don't speak English, huh?" Ben said, his smooth voice flawed only by a hint of a Boston accent. "Shame, that. But at least I won't need to worry about you hitting on my fiancee," Ben mused. "I always worry when that Mangan character shows up for his yearly visit. But he's out of luck this time," Ben laughed and Jim felt his skin crawl. "This time the girl is wearing my ring."

With a backward glance, Ben tossed the half-eaten apple on the wood pile before entering the kitchen. Jim stared at the half-eaten apple for a long time, wondering what kind of mystery he had wandered into.

Friday, 6pm

"If I were invited to a dinner party with my characters, I wouldn't show up" ~ Dr. Seuss

Jim watched with wide eyes at the interactions of the Belden family. The bubbly blonde was enchanting, flashing her dimples repeatedly at him. Bobby was obviously the baby of the family whose antics were expected and tolerated by his family.

Dr. Belden arrived from the hospital and brushed kisses across his mother's cheek. Jim studiously watched the interactions between Brian and Ben. Tension, he sensed.

The lovely Honey Wheeler arrived in time to help make the salad. As a native New Yorker, Jim was very well aware of the power that Wheeler Industries wielded. The gossip rags in the City mentioned she was engaged to a small town doctor. Apparently, for once, they were right. From the way they talked, Jim deduced Ben and Honey were somehow related.

As time went on, Jim found it easier and easier to simply listen to the flow of conversations around him. Because everyone assumed he didn't speak English, he became almost invisible – rather like a fly on the wall.

Honey startled him by handing him a book. "English to Spanish Easy Translations." He nodded his thanks even as his lips quirked at the thought of anyone confusing his red hair and green eyes as being of Spanish descent.

Finally, just as they were about to sit down for dinner, Jim met Mart and Diana Belden. Jim saw a strong family resemblance among the various members of the Belden clan and wondered where Mr. Belden was.

"Jim, have you been in the country a long time?" Honey asked, sweetly trying to incorporate him into the conversation.

Jim looked at her for a long moment before saying, stiltedly, "English - my English - has grown - down."

"We'd say, 'my English is rusty'," Ben said in a tone of sneering condescension that triggered Jim's temper.

Jim opened the book of translations in his hands. "Rusty mean 'brown from oxidation'." He smiled in relief. "Ja, my English is brown from oxidation...Ja? Now we eat?" He pantomimed using a fork to indicate his hunger.

Mart laughed uproariously at Ben's look of discomfort and Jim decided that although neither of the older Belden brothers liked Ben, they couldn't possibly be aware of just how big a creep he was.

After dinner, Jim nodded his thanks and went to claim a spot by the fire. Before he could get half way through his puzzle, he was joined by Ben as the Belden family and Honey cleaned up the kitchen. For a moment, Jim felt guilty for sitting while others waited on him, but reminded himself he was a paying guest.

Ben pulled out his phone. "No, Dad, it's going fine. The family will lose the farmhouse in no time and then you can pick it up for a bargain. I promise." Silence. "They have two guests right now – that explosives expert Mangan and some foreigner who doesn't speak English." Ben glanced at Jim before continuing, "The Beldens are too proud to ask Uncle Matthew for help. Once you get the old Frayne place away from the courts, we'll have enough land to put a Stuff Mart on Glen Road."

Jim hid his reaction behind his puzzle book. Frayne place? He had an old uncle that once lived in this area. Could there be a relationship? He made a mental note to look it up on his iPhone later that night. Put up a Stuff Mart? Here? The man wasn't just a creep, he was the frickin' Mayor of Creeperville! His anger was distracted by Trixie and Mart entering the room.

"Men are just as capable of doing dishes as women, Mart Belden."

"My dear Beatrix," Mart said, and Jim mentally confirmed Mart was definitely the older sibling. "Fair squaws have much smaller hands. That is scientific fact. Smaller hands are indubitably better designed for handling small wet objects like dishes."

Trixie's eyes narrowed and Jim swore he saw steam rising from the tips of her ears. She opened her mouth to continue lambasting her brother when Honey arrived with slices of pie.

"Dan just called," Moms said, entering the kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron. "He said he won't be here until tomorrow. Now, eat up your pie," she said loudly to Jim, holding up a fragrant slice of apple pie.

Hesitantly, Jim took the slice and nodded his thanks.

Saturday Morning

Language is the most imperfect and expensive means yet discovered for communicating thought. ~William James

Jim sat in the living room, staring intently at the iPhone in his hand. He was the lost heir to the Frayne fortune? After discovering no WiFi connection, he had used the 4G on his iPhone to email the lawyer in charge of the Frayne estate.

"Hey, I know," Bobby said, startling Jim. He'd been so absorbed in his own research, he hadn't heard the young man enter. "I'm going to teach you English!"

"Ah," Jim stuttered, looking around for an escape.

Bobby's face fell. "I know I probably won't do a very good job at it. Ben says I'm not good for doing anything but being a punchline for one of his jokes. But still. I'd like to try?"

Jim felt his heart break for this young man with a big heart. He nodded, miserable and full of anxiety before realizing he already spoke English.

The morning progressed with Bobby holding up items, saying the item and Jim dutifully repeating it. He then moved on to numbers.

"One." Bobby held up a single finger.

"One," Jim repeated, holding up a finger.

"Two" A second finger joined the first and Bobby continued until they had gotten to ten. "Ten is really the highest number you'll need to know. That and a zillion."

"Zeelion?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, you know. When you want a whole bunch of something, you just say...a zillion!"

Jim nodded his understanding as Moms called them in for breakfast. Eggs, bacon and toast were set up buffet style and Jim joined the family in piling food on his plates. Moms approached with a long handled pan.

"Hominy grits," she announced.

"A zeelion, pliz," Jim replied, holding out his plates.

Moms looked confused for a moment before Bobby announced, "I'm teaching Jim to speak English!"

Saturday, 2:30pm

The email from his great uncle's lawyer, Mr. Rainsford, arrived at 2pm. Left to his own devices for a few minutes, Jim went for a walk out on the trails behind the house. Keeping his voice low, he called the number Mr. Rainsford had given him.

"Jim, I got your email. Now, obviously, we need to get your paperwork together to verify your identity, but as long as we can establish you're Mr. Frayne's heir, we shouldn't have any problems. Can you come into the office today?"

"I'm actually in Sleepyside for the weekend, Mr. Rainsford," Jim said. "My friend Dan dropped me off at Crabapple Farms Bed and Breakfast yesterday. I don't have my car out here."

Jim heard through the open mic of the phone as Mr. Rainsford shuffled through his date book. "Okay, I really want to get this resolved so I can call the other lawyers involved first thing Monday morning. How is Sunday morning in the old summerhouse? There's a path from Crabapple Farms to the summerhouse. You can't miss it."

They agreed on a time and Jim gave Mr. Rainsford all his personal information for verification. He found the path and spent time exploring the grounds of Ten Acres.

Saturday 4pm

After a long relaxing walk in the late fall weather, Jim felt relaxed and calm for the first time in recent memory. He sat, relaxed, in his new favorite spot – the oversized chair in the living room. Trixie entered the room and picked up a magazine and sat down.

"I've always loved solving puzzles," she said, nodding to indicate Jim's book. "I think that's why I love my job so much. I work for the county, you know." Pause. "No, I guess you wouldn't know, would you?" She laughed as she heard her words spoken aloud. "I solve puzzles for a living. Crimes happen and it's my job to get in there, dust for fingerprints, and figure out the hows and the whys and the whens. You've seen the CSI shows, right?" She laughed again. "I don't know why I keep asking you questions when I know you can't understand or answer me. You're probably thinking a town like Sleepyside wouldn't have that much crime, huh?"

Actually, Jim realized, he was thinking Sleepyside wouldn't have that much crime. And the only criminal afoot appeared to be her fiancé from Creeperville.

"I don't work just in Sleepyside," she confided. "I work for the county so, depending on the day, I can travel quite a bit. Ben thinks I should quit after we get married."

She snorted and Jim had the distinct impression Ben was not going to get the sweet acquiescent wife he apparently sought.

Saturday 7pm

Jim survived another hour of Bobby and his "English Lessons" before the family and Dan congregated around him in the living room.

"What language does Jim speak?" Ben asked Dan with suspicion. "It sounds like you speak German to him; he's constantly consulting the Spanish Dictionary Honey gave him; and when he speaks it sounds rather eastern European." Dan looked nonplussed for a moment before opening his mouth.

"I bet he's from Switzerland!"

Brian frowned. "Why do you figure that, Bobby?"

"I read somewhere they speak four languages in Switzerland," Bobby answered, logically.

"I don't think they speak four languages all at once," Honey said, kindly.

"Where are you from, Jim?" Moms asked slowly, enunciating each syllable.

Dan again opened his mouth to speak but was shocked when Jim interrupted him. "Has you glob?"

"Glob?" Moms asked.

"He means globe, Moms," Bobby answered with a grin. "I sure am a great English teacher, aren't I?"

Dan frowned at Jim. "English lessons?" he mouthed. Jim shrugged and nodded.

"I don't think we have a globe," Moms said with a frown. "Brian, do you still have any of your old school things here?"

Brian shook his head. "I think there's a map of New York in the desk," he added, helpfully.

In the gamboling gait of youth, Bobby ran for the map and brought it back – presented it proudly to Jim.

Dan hid a grin, waiting to see what his normally shy friend would do. "Is good," Jim announced. He handed the map to Ben. "I show." Ignoring Ben's glare, Jim positioned him by the door and stood near Trixie. He pantomimed, indicating that Ben should leave the room.

With a sulky glare, Ben opened the door and stood out on the patio. "Leetle bit more," Jim said, continuing to wave Ben further out into the yard. When Ben was finally standing near the mailbox, Jim gave him a thumbs up.

Bobby called out, "That's good, Ben!"

Jim raised his thumbs and forefingers in the classic "director's" motion, judging the distance from where Ben stood with the map of the state of New York and where Honey stood near the fireplace. Finally, Jim walked towards Honey and pointed to an arbitrary spot half way down the stone fireplace. "My country is here!" he announced with innocent delight.

Trixie exchanged an amused glance with him and Jim had the brief sensation that she understood more than she let on.

Ben glowered at being made the center of Jim's joke but hid his expression in front of Trixie and her family.

"Your English lessons are coming along so well," Moms said, her voice finally dropping to a more conversational level now that Jim's understanding of English had grown by leaps and bounds.

"Maybe you can teach us some of your language?" Dan suggested, tongue planted firmly in his cheek.

"Okay. I teach now," Jim said excitedly. "All say, 'Gok', 'Blit'."

Everyone but Ben repeated the words dutifully.

Jim approached Ben. "You say 'Gok', 'Blit'."

"Go on," Mart encouraged, eyes gleaming with mischief. "We're sharing here, Ben."

"Yes, I share," Jim said with a gentle smile.

Ben finally relented and said, "Gok Blit."

Jim began laughing. "You say it like leetle girl!"

Ben moved to approach Jim, fist raised but thought better of it in the face of his fiancé's family.

Dan tried to diffuse the situation. "In Jim's home country, he was quite the raconteur." For a moment, Dan sincerely hoped dropping dead from a look was just a myth. Jim was definitely getting steamed.

"Raconteur?" Diana whispered to her husband.

"Story teller," Mart translated.

"Oh please," Trixie begged. "Tell us a story, Jim!"

"Okay," Jim said. "Gort! Klaatu barada nikto! I tell story from my country!"

Jim thought for a long moment. Dan quietly handed him his flask and Jim took a long, grateful swallow.

"Onceker upon a timesky das lived a beautsky lady, Ja?" With his hands, he traced a woman's hourglass curves. "But she was dumb as a boxa roxa."

Dan snorted a laugh.

"Das beautsky go hippity hoppity in da forest with baskie of goodies for das gramsky." Jim picked up the basket of apples on the coffee table and commenced skipping around the living room. "Meamskivar, om da udder side of da forest, lived bigsky wolfskie with sharpsky teeth." Jim bared his own teeth to the the group surrounding him.

"Hippity hoppity," Jim said forcing his normal baritone into a fake falsetto and skipped around the living room. "Roar, Roar, Roar," he changed characters and dropped his voice an octave into a bass-baritone. He continued to act out each of the characters until their inevitable meeting. "Eeek went das beautsky! Roar went das wolfskie."

Jim made the large ravenous sounds of eating which reminded Dan more of the Cookie Monster eating cookies than the Big Bad Wolf eating Little Red.

Jim changed characters once more, hoisting a log over his shoulder, reminiscent of a lumberjack with his ax. "Das woodsky cutter comsky to das rescue." He raised his "ax" over his shoulder in a wood chopping motion. "Chopsky! Chopsky! To das bigsky wolfskie, Ja?"

Again, Jim raced around the living room, acting out the epic battle between the Wolf and the Wood Cutter. Finally in a dramatic climax, Jim's wood cutter strangled the wolf and all 6'4" of "wolf" dropped with a loud thud behind the couch.

Everyone sat, bemused, clearly unsure how to handle this new development. Jim suddenly bounced up, clearly in character as Little Red. He picked up the basket of apples again and skipped gaily off into the kitchen. He returned only to bow to his audience.

Dan laughed, the Beldens all cheered and Ben continued to glower at this new development.

"I think I almost understood that story," Moms said to Trixie. "I think it was about dinosaurs."

Trixie spared a glance back at Jim and Dan and led everyone into the kitchen.

When the family entered the kitchen to start slicing Moms' latest dessert, Dan pulled Jim out onto the patio. "What is going on?" he asked, under his breath.

Jim gaped at his friend momentarily. Finally, he said, "I think it should be perfectly obvious. I'm taking English lessons from Bobby. Ben is somehow trying to ruin the B&B by making sure the family goes broke. He's very suspicious of me and I'm having a little fun at his expense." Jim smiled at Dan, his grin a little lopsided from lack of use. "I think I'm acquiring a personality!"

Glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard, Jim filled Dan in on Ben's plan to financially ruin and then cheaply buy out the B&B and Ten Acres in order to put up a Stuff Mart in the middle of Sleepyside. Dan nodded. "That might explain Trixie's engagement to the creep," Dan said. "I've been coming up yearly for the last five years and never knew her to have any kind of yen for Ben. But maybe he's been pushing the angle to save the B&B." Dan thought for a moment. "You go meet with Mr. Rainsford in the morning. Text me at during my lunch break and we'll come up with a plan to save Crabapple Farms."

The two men fist bumped and went back into the house.

When you stretch the truth, watch out for the snapback. ~Bill Copeland

Sunday, 10am

Jim and Mr. Rainsford sat in the Great Room of the old summerhouse. "I was able to get a copy of your driver's license so as soon as you can get me your birth certificate, I can file the paperwork with the courts and have you legally declared 'found'," Mr. Rainsford said. "After your father died and your mother moved out of the area and married that Jones fellow, your Great Uncle James lost track of her."

Jim frowned, remembering how much he detested his mother's second husband. "After she ran away from him when I was ten, she lost herself in Brooklyn. Worked under the table at various restaurants and basically we lived off the grid as much as possible. She passed away six years ago."

Jim continued to look through the paperwork. "Now, what can we do to help Crabapple Farms?" Jim asked, his voice serious. "The Beldens are great people and if there's a way to keep them safe from the Riker family's machinations, I need to do it."

Mr. Rainsford nodded. "I looked into that as well, Jim. The Farm was heavily mortgaged about three years ago. They've been making their payments but there's a balloon payment due in a little more than six weeks. If they fail to make that, they may be looking at facing foreclosure."

Jim took this in. "And Riker International?"

Rainsford continued, "Riker International has a 51% controlling interest in Stuff Mart, Inc. They've been trying to find a commercially zoned property here in Sleepyside for years. Wheeler has been blocking them for years. Other than the old grocery store, the only other commercially zoned area on Glen Road is Crabapple Farms B&B."

Jim's dark green eyes focused on Mr. Rainsford. "Has business been good?"

"I wasn't able to get a lot of information on their financials," Rainsford admitted.

"Maybe I can help with that," Trixie Belden said from the doorway.

Jim stood up, guilt clearly written on his face. "Trixie," he said, lamely. "I can explain."

Trixie smiled but the laughter was gone in her bright blue eyes. "I think I figured most of it out," Trixie said. "Your natural accent is the same as Dan's so I'm guessing you're a friend of his from Brooklyn. He's been coming out here for years but this is the first time he's brought a friend. Bad break up?" she guessed.

Jim nodded. "I was too excessively boring for her."

"She obviously never saw you act out the story of "Little Red Riding Hood"," she said with a sniff.

Trixie played with a random curl and Jim had the overwhelming urge to tug on one of them. "So, Dan 'Jim-dumps' you in the middle of a B&B, you're nursing a broken heart and really don't want to deal with a nosy innkeeper or her loud family. Dan tells a whopper of a lie, proclaiming you cannot speak English and you're caught. Do you show Dan up as a liar? Or continue the lie?"

Jim frowned. "How did you know that?"

For the first time humor shown in Trixie's eyes. "I have met Dan before. And if anyone has kissed the blarney stone, it is definitely Dan Mangan."

Matching humor glinted in Jim's green eyes. "He does seem to have an excess of personality."

Trixie waved a hand towards Ten Acres. "I looked at the guest list. Dan signed you in as James Frayne, the Second. That would put you as a family member of the late Mr. Frayne, our neighbor."

"You're very good," Jim said, appreciatively.

"I suspected Ben was up to something which is why I allowed him to court me, but I could never get him to reveal his plan."

"They should make you a detective," Jim said, admiration in his eyes.

"I love my job as CSI for the county," she countered. "I solve the puzzles without dealing with bad guys with guns." She wrinkled her nose teasingly at Jim. "But I do love a good puzzle."

"Was I a puzzle?" Jim asked, intrigued with the idea.

"A fascinating one at that," Trixie replied.

They shared a look just long enough to make Mr. Rainsford feel uncomfortable. "Getting back to the financials," he said, bringing the conversation around.

Trixie shook her head, clearing it of the distracted fuzz Jim seemed to cause in her thought patterns. "There were a few unhappy customers a few years back, but nothing major. My father's job with the bank has had him living in Hong Kong for the last year. He had been in charge of general repairs around the house. The boys tried to pick up the slack but Mart, Brian and I each have full time jobs and it just seemed Bobby kept making things worse and worse."

In a quiet voice, Jim explained about the apples. Trixie's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Oh, Mr. Ben Riker is going to pay for this," she declared, playing with the large diamond he had placed upon her left finger.

"So, Daddy has been out of the country on and off for a few years, little things kept going wrong and we were losing our regulars. There's an Apple Festival coming up. We have a full house that week. If everyone keeps their reservations, we can make our balloon payment and one Riker International is SOL and can shove their Stuff Mart where the sun doesn't shine."

"Let's call and verify those reservations," Jim said, thinking. "If Ben put in fake reservations then you wouldn't book new people. But then he can cancel them all so you can't re-book the rooms."

Mr. Rainsford handed Trixie his card. "An Apple Festival sounds perfect for me and my family. You let me know if your guests are fakes. Okay?"

Jim agreed. "I'm sure I can find time to visit in the fall for the festival as well."

Sunday 2pm

Each on their cell phones, they worked tirelessly in Jim's room. Two weekends and five weekdays represented a possible twenty seven rentals for the B&B. They each took a list and out of the 10 families booked for through the Festival, only three were legitimate.

"After I put you and Mr. Rainsford in for the second weekend, we still need at least five more bookings to make sure we have enough money for the balloon payment."

"Do you have a wait list?"

Trixie shook her head. "Most of the bookings are made on our website," she explained. "If we show as full, there's no way to add them in as waiters."

"First thing, clear out those fake reservations so anyone looking for a room can find one," Jim said, thinking aloud. "I sent Dan a text and he's thinking of how we can get your business booked solid so that money isn't going to be a problem."

Sunday 4pm

The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend. ~Aristotle

They met at the gatehouse on the Wheeler Estate- Honey, Dan, Brian, Mart, Jim, Trixie, and Diana.

"I can't believe my own full blooded cousin would do this to your family!" Honey's eyes narrowed. "Oh, when I get my hands on him..." she let her voice trail off at her imagined threat.

"I stand behind my original idea," Dan said. "C-4 always fixes what ails you."

"I can talk to my art group," Diana offered, ignoring Dan's suggestion. "Maybe suggest they take in the Apple Festival as part of a group project."

Jim's eyes lit up. "That would be perfect. How about if Moms set up a section of the orchard for picture takers and artists? She could easily charge ten dollars an hour for a semi private access to the orchard."

"Moms' apple butter is delicious, too," Dan said. "Do you think she'd be willing to sell any?"

Trixie, Di and Honey exchanged looks. "It'll be a lot of work," Trixie warned.

"I'm not afraid of hard work," Honey said, standing beside her fiancé.

Diana shrugged. "I can always get a new manicure," she said with a laugh.

"We make a good team," Mart decided, glancing around the group of seven people.

Jim approached Trixie as the meeting broke up. "We're checking out," he said softly. "But I'd like to see you again, if you can overlook my going along with a lie?"

Heat swelled around them as Trixie's bright blue eyes met Jim's dark green eyes. "I'll see you in two weeks. By that time, Mr. Riker will have his diamond back." She wrinkled her nose at him playfully. "Then we'll see if you have what it takes to court a Belden," she ended with a challenging glint in her eyes.

Jim laughed, a deep, hearty laugh. Dan looked at him sharply. He hadn't heard his friend laugh like that since they were kids.

"I'd like the opportunity to test my mettle, Miss Belden," he answered, brushing a gentle kiss across her cheek.

A/N: The story is derived from/ based on a play called "The Foreigner" by Larry Shue. It's a sweet play although there are darker scenes in the original. I decided to take out the KKK, set it in Sleepyside, and add a bit more humor and slapstick to it. However, if you ever get a chance, I highly recommend seeing the play.

Oddly enough, the idea came to me in a dream. Once I put fingers to keyboard, though, I really liked the way it came together. The play characters and the Bob-Whites aligned perfectly perfect.

"Stuff Mart" was used in a VeggieTales episode. It's a chain of massive box stores where you can buy all the stuff you want. Could you imagine one of those on Glen Road? (shudders at the thought)

An iPhone is a way cool smart phone that allows you to play just about any game on any app. You can look up directions to your favorite Starbucks or even the closest Stuff Mart. You can send emails one, too. Oh. And you can make phone calls on it, too.

Sudoku is a Japanese style puzzle. Very logical and just the thing for Jim.

"Gort! Klaatu barada nikto!" is a line from the 1951 classic "The Day the Earth Stood Still".

Cookie Monster is a character on Sesame Street, well known for his lack of manners while eating cookies.

SOL is abbreviation for sh*t outta luck.

A big "thank you" to Sabrina, Joycey, Jo, and G'maCindy for their editing skills. Any mistakes are purely mine.