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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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--------------------------------------------------------
Author Note: This story carries a copyleft. It can be 
modified and reprinted anywhere and in any form the 
reader feels would be appropriate. I would prefer that 
no one do so for profit, as I am giving this freely. 
Any published reprint or reinvention of this work must 
be copylefted as well, and I must be cited. 
--------------------------------------------------------

The Gregsons
by Erosscribe (erosscribe@mac.com)

***

The summer before his first year off college, John 
ends up serving as a chaperone for his five cousins at 
their parent's summer home, where they all get to know 
each other much better. The following serves as the 
prequel to and background for that particular tale. 
(MF-teens, 1st, inc, introduction)

***

This story is dedicated to Shannon, Cass, Karly, Kayla, 
Danielle, Britt, Jess and last but certainly not least, 
Nikki.

***

Characters:

Elmer Vanderhoven, 68
Gudrun Vanderhoven, 62
Mary Smith (nee Vanderhoven), 41
Bob Smith, 45
Me (John Smith), 18
Lisa Vanderhoven / Anneliese Gregson, 35
Archibald Gregson III, 63 
Amelia Gregson, 15
Amanda Gregson, 13
Melinda and Melissa Gregson, (twins) 11
Llewellyn Gregson (Lil), 9
Robert aka James aka Arthur Harrington, 66 (Chauffeur)
Reginald Butler, 55 (Butler)
Jacques Bellamont, 33 (Chef)
Brynja Bjarturdottir, 22 (Housekeeper)
Soleil Bingham, 19 (Gardener)


Notice: This is not a "stroke story." At least not this 
chapter. This is an introduction/background chapter 
intended to provide a strong foundation for the entire 
piece. It is If you are looking for action, flip ahead 
a few (as yet unwritten) chapters.

***

CHAPTER ONE: A Smith/Gregson History Lesson


Hi. I'm John. John Smith, actually. No, really. 
Honestly. Anyway, I'm sitting here in my dorm room at 
Hampshire College. I'm a first-year student and 
orientation hasn't even started yet. I'm a day early. 
Guess I read the arrival date wrong. Whoopsie. There 
are very few people on campus, my hall is empty except 
for one other person, and my roommate isn't here yet 
someone about the most. I know I should probably be 
going over the orientation booklet again, but I think I 
have it memorized by now. Besides, I have to tell 
someone about the last two months -- the most 
incredible summer of my life. 

It didn't start out that way. I graduated from The Bay 
School ( an alternative private school in San 
Francisco) on Saturday, June 9th, 2007. My plan had 
been to chillax for the summer and get ready for my for 
my move cross-country and my first year of college. 
Hang out with friends. Bum around the city. A nice, 
mellow couple of months. I got up late on Sunday and 
found a note on the dining room table. "Went out 
jogging and shopping. Be back when I get back. 
Congratulations, High School Graduate! Love, Mom." 
Cool. I have the place to myself. I go into the kitchen 
to nuke a couple of Pop Tarts (is anything better than 
an entire breakfast ready in three seconds?) and make 
myself some chai. The microwave clock lets me know it's 
just past 1 in the afternoon. 

I sat down in our lovely breakfast nook with my Pop-
Tarts and chai and the book I was currently reading 
(The Dancing Wu-Li Masters by Gary Zukav. If you 
haven't read it - pick it up. It's definitely worth a 
read. To oversimplify horribly, Zukav asks whether 
there is a difference between post-Einsteinian Physics 
and Zen Buddhism- and can't find one,. According to 
him, they seem to be different expressions of the same 
idea. My Dad turned me onto it, so I figured I'd pass 
on the favor.) 

Just as I was relaxing, the phone rang " May I please 
speak to Jonathan?" Now, there's only one person in the 
world who calls me Jonathan. My Aunt Lisa, or Anneliese 
as she now prefers to be called. Before I can begin to 
explain the level of weirdness that Anneliese calling 
represented, I have to share some family background 
with you. 

Pop-Pop Elmer and Nana Gudrun met growing up in Holland 
(Den Haag) Nana was 6 and Pop-Pop was 12. She was the 
younger sister of one of his best friends, and at first 
was just annoying, always wanting to tag along and 
stuff. By the time he was 16, Pop-Pop realized his 
friend was an idiot and stopped communicating with him, 
but little Gudrun would still come over. Pop-Pop began 
to treat her as the little sister he never had, helping 
her with homework, taking her to the zoo, and teaching 
her how to row on the lake. Older brother types of 
stuff. 

They slowly got to be friends, but it wasn't until Pop-
Pop was 21 and engaged to marry another woman that he 
realized he was in love with 15 year-old Gudrun. It 
turned out she felt the same way, and had been in love 
with him since she was 12. He broke off the engagement, 
and they dated in secret for 2 years, until he asked 
her father for her hand in marriage. They got marred 
the next year, and moved to Minneapolis. Pop-Pop first 
worked as a clerk in a tobacconists shop, and then got 
a pretty good job as a tailor at Dayton's, a local 
department store, working in the Men's Department. 

In 1966 they had their first child, Mary, (my Mom) 
followed by another, Lisa in 1972. They struggled for a 
bit, but by the time Aunt Lisa was born they were 
living a solidly middle-class life in a small house in 
a nice section of town. Mom once described her 
childhood as nice but ordinary. No crises, no 
screaming, no biog arguments. Just a simple, pleasant 
existence.

My Aunt Lisa, on the other hand, thought both the 
family and city she was born into were provincial and 
narrow-minded, and wasn't shy about sharing her 
opinion. At 18 she left home and moved to NYC to find 
her fortune. I've seen pictures of my Aunt Lisa when 
she was 18 and she was hot! Blonde hair, green eyes, 
built, gorgeous smile – she was a fantasy come to life. 

Here's a pretty good representation. Playing off her 
looks, she quickly got a job as an escort and used it 
to search for a sugar daddy. My Aunt always found a way 
to get what she wanted, so it wasn't surprising that 
she landed one. She met Archibald ( ever Archie) 
Gregson IIII, after working as an escort for 
approximately a year. They were married by a Justice of 
the Peace six weeks later. She was 19 and he was 47.

Born in 1944 in Corpus Christi, Texas, Archibald 
Gregson III was just 10 when his father, Archibald 
Gregson Jr. invented the automatic sliding door. Born 
in 1919, Archibald d Jr. was only 15 when his father, 
the original Archibald Gregson, became one of the 
founders of the Taylor Refining company. I tell you 
this by way of explaining that my uncle was born into 
more money than he can ever spend –and believe me, he 
tries. He's s not a bad guy just very stereotypically 
Texas. Big cigars, cowboy boots, and backslaps that 
will send you flying across the room. Loves to 
pontificate. Imagine Foghorn Leghorn come to life and 
you have a pretty good idea. Haven't seen him in over 6 
years, though- (more on that later) so that all could 
have changed. 

On the other hand, Bob Smith (my Dad) grew up in Ann 
Arbor, and went to the University of Oregon in 1980. 
Graduating with a degree in physics in 1984, he worked 
for a year and was then accepted to the UC Berkeley 
dual -degree graduate program in Architecture and 
Structural Engineering in 1985. 

In 1984, when she was 18, Mary (my mom) went away to 
school at Mills College in Northern California. Mary 
and Bob met at a Holly Near concert on the Berkeley 
campus in 1986 and were married in July of 1988, after 
Mom graduated from Mills. Mom got a job for a year so 
Dad could afford to concentrate on grad school, but 
then she was accepted to the University of California–
Santa Cruz Ph.D program in History of Consciousness 
beginning in the fall of 1989. 

On April 15th, 1989 I was born into the world. Not only 
was I born on tax day, but our family mythos posits 
that I was conceived during their weekend-long Napa 
Valley honeymoon. In June of 1990, Dad finished his 
dual- degree program, graduating from Berkeley. Mom 
graduated in from Santa Cruz in 1997 and is now a 
Marxist labor historian, teaching in both the Economics 
and Sociology Departments at Berkeley and writing her 
second book. 

Dad, on the other hand, is a safety consultant to firms 
that build skyscrapers, a job that takes him all over 
the world. Right now he's in Shanghai, which is 
supposedly the city of the 21st century. We live really 
well. I'll admit it. We are definitely upper-middle 
class in a pretty expensive part of the world. Most of 
that is due to Dad's salary, as assistant professors 
don't make much money and Mom's books aren't exactly 
best sellers, but that isn't the point. 

Mom and Dad struggled and worked really hard to get 
where they are, and they work just as hard to keep what 
we have. Aunt Lisa (excuse me, Anneliese) and Uncle 
Archibald have worked a total of one year between them- 
and one year of interest from Archibald's combined bank 
accounts is more money than my parents will ever see in 
their lifetimes. 

So that's part of the underlying tension between our 
two families. That isn't the majority of it, though. 
That came out of " THE VACATION."

Anneliese and Archibald and their r family always go 
somewhere fantastic for a week or two during the 
winter. When I turned 6, they started inviting us 
along. The covered all the costs, of course. I got to 
see some pretty fantastic places, too. Bali, Fiji, St. 
Bart's, Goa, and The Seychelles, to be exact. Money was 
no object, so I got to do pretty much anything I wanted 
when we got there. A kid's fantasy. So that lasted up 
until I was eleven, and then my parents realized I'd 
never been to New York City. 

So Dad decided to switch things up. This year, instead 
of going on vacation to an exotic island for a week in 
the winter, we would go to New York City for 
Thanksgiving and stay with my Aunt and Uncle. T This 
was a big decision for my Dade, because Thanksgiving 
was our big holiday. Dad's parents didn't celebrate it 
for political reasons (Dad is a descendant of 
Lieutenant John Smith, who came over on the Mayflower – 
looong story) and Mom's folks didn't get it, being from 
the Netherlands, so Mom and Dad decided they were going 
to make up for all of those missed years. 

While they were in grad school, both Mom and Dad made 
friends with a lot of the international students, most 
of whom couldn't go home for Thanksgiving. So it became 
a tradition- no matter how poor we were, we always did 
something on Thanksgiving. It was a good time to bring 
friends together, debate, laugh, play music and 
generally enjoy each other's company. Over the years 
its grown and grown. Last year it was a 30 person, 
potluck extravaganza. People crammed in every corner of 
our apartment. You could barely breathe. 

We have all sorts of little traditions. One is that we 
all sing along to Alice's Restaurant, and the person 
that gets the furthest wins a yam and a can of 
pineapple rings, representing our first, poverty-
stricken Thanksgiving celebration, when that, a salad, 
a jug of red wine and red what and blue ice pops 
comprised dinner. As I said, Thanksgiving is our big 
holiday. My Dad was giving up a lot just so I could see 
Manhattan. 

Vacation time arrives. We get off the plane in Newark 
and are met by a chauffeured limousine, which drives us 
to my Aunt and Uncle's place. They wee very proud of 
the address: 10 Gracie Square. Apparently it's one of 
the most desirable places to live in Manhattan, 
partially because it's an Astor building. I'm not quite 
sure what that means, but Dad seemed impressed by this, 
and he's the architect in the family. 

So we get there and find out that they started with an 
11-room apartment, but as Anneliese kept having 
children (they have five daughters, who at that time 
ranged in age from 3 to 9. Don't worry, you'll meet 
them later.) the apartment just wasn't big enough, 
between the kids and the servants. So they bought the 9 
room apartment next door, knocked down the dividing 
wall and created a 20 room floor-though apartment which 
is at least three times the size of our house. Once 
they were done with the remodeling, they had an 8 
bedroom, 6 bath apartment with a formal dining room, a 
gorgeous huge kitchen with a pantry/laundry room, a 
dining room, a library, a family room and a 
den/playroom. 

The den was the coolest. It had a ping-pong table, a 
pool table, a player piano, a jukebox and really 
comfortable couches. Totally unlike the rest of the 
house , which was just – trying too hard, if you know 
what I mean.. (Mom and Dad beg to differ about the 
couches, as they slept on a foldout king-size futon 
couch. I guess they should know. Well, they were 
comfortable to sit on, anyway.) 

I slept on a raspberry-colored velour couch in the 
library. It wasn't bad, until I realized that they 
seemed put out by having to put us up, as if there was 
barely enough room in their apartment. But everything 
was hanging together – we were all doing ok until 
Thanksgiving Day came. It turned out that my Aunt and 
Uncle give the servants Thanksgiving Day off, so they 
don't actually make Thanksgiving Dinner. Instead, they 
go to a restaurant called Tavern On The Green in 
Central Park. None of my cousins saw anything strange 
about this, but it got my parents very, very upset. 

During dinner, Archibald kept ordering champagne for 
the table, and my mother kept drinking it. More than 
I've ever seen her drink before or since, actually. 
Anyway, at some point in this evening she said 
something to Aunt Lisa. To this day she won't tell me 
what it was. Lisa started crying, told us she never 
wanted to speak to any of us again, and ran out of the 
restaurant. We stayed and finished dinner, figuring she 
just needed time to cool down, but when we got back all 
of our things were neatly packed up and put outside the 
door, with a straight pin shoved through the pocket of 
my mother's coat and a note on the end that said." You 
are all dead to me." And that's the last time any of us 
heard from her.

Does that begin to explain the remarkable quality of 
this phone call? It was all I could do not to say " 
Conversing with the dead, now are we Aunt Anneliese?" 
I'm very glad I didn't because here's what I heard: " 
Our ancient Nanny, Olga, has just informed me that her 
even more ancient mother, Almut, is very ill back home 
in Recklinghausen, and that she (Olga) will not be able 
to take care of the children this summer. I know it's 
very short notice, but we are pretty desperate and I 
know you're going off to college and could use some 
pocket money. We'd need you from 14 June – 17 August. 
I'm prepared to offer you $350/wk plus room, board and 
food." 

I just stood there dumbfounded, which Anneliese must 
have mistaken for playing hardball, because she said " 
Ok, what about $500 a week?" It was at this point that 
I managed an "um...", still stunned at the fact that 
the conversation was taking place more than anything 
else. 

Lisa began to chuckle on the other end, saying" You 
remind me of me. You can't tell anyone this -- but what 
about $750/week plus I pay for your plane tickets?" The 
thought of 6000 and some dollars for hanging out with 5 
girls in a beautiful vacation home unlocked my brain 
enough to say, "Yes, I'd love to." 

Anneliese said, "Great. I'll fax over a contract. Why 
don't you give me your bank account information now, 
and when you sign the contract and fax it back I'll 
wire the first installment –it will probably be around 
1200 dollars or so. The final language will be in the 
contract. OK?"

After I stammered out a yes and gave Anneliese the 
information she asked for I sat down to wait for the 
fax, my mind still reeling from what had just occurred. 
No more than five minutes later, here's what came 
popping out of the fax machine:

--------------------------------------------

CONTRACT FOR SERVICES:

1. The position is that of live-in Chaperone to our 
five (5) daughters : Amelia, Amanda, Melissa, Melinda 
and Llewellyn, ranging in age from 9-15. 

2. Per our previous discussion, the term of employment 
will be for 9 weeks - from 15 June 2007 to 17 August 
2007 inclusive. The pay scale is $750/week, or $6750 
total. The money will be disbursed directly into your 
bank account on the following payment schedule : $ 
1350.00 upon receipt of a signed copy of this fax. 
Three (3) payments of $1800.00 each, the first 
installment to occur on 6 July 2007, the second on 27 
July 2007, and the third and final on 17 August 2007. 

Your contract also provides the following benefits : 
Free housing in a single room for the length of your 
employment, 19 meals per week (Breakfast, Lunch and 
Dinner Monday through Friday, Brunch and Dinner on the 
weekends).and coverage of any extraordinary medical 
expenses that might arise. As well, transportation to 
and from your home is covered under the terms of this 
contract. 

RESPONSIBILITIES:

You are to insure that my daughters have an enjoyable 
summer. You are to cater to their every desire. If they 
want something, you are to facilitate it. No matter how 
extreme or odd it might seem, you are to see that all 
of my daughters' needs are met. Punishment is not your 
domain, it is the domain of their father. Archibald 
Gregson III. Under no circumstances are the girls to 
know this. They are to believe that you have the final 
say in all matters concerning them, as Olga did. 

One of your major responsibilities will be driving the 
girls around the island, whether it is to the club, to 
see friends, or the video store to rent videos on a 
rainy day. Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are the girls to get 
behind the wheel of any vehicle. You will be driving 
the Gelandeswagen to begin. If you show you can handle 
that safely, perhaps my husband will allow you to drive 
the other vehicles as the summer goes on. 

As we have been going to the island for a number of 
years, inevitably want to have sleepovers. the girls 
have a great number of friends. They will inevitably 
want to have sleepovers. This decision is entirely up 
to you. If there is to be a sleepover, you are 
responsible for those girls as well, so think carefully 
before you say yes. 

You will get no extra help from the staff simply 
because more girls are staying over. Sleepovers/slumber 
parties are to take place either in the girls rooms or 
in the backyard, NOT in the living room or anywhere 
else inside the house. I refuse to have my house turned 
upside down by a group of riotous girls. 


Above everything else, you are to keep the girls safe 
so they can enjoy their summer. Whatever rules you feel 
you need to set to do so are up to you. Bedtimes are 
also up to you, though I would suggest 9PM for 
Llewellyn, 10 for Melissa and Melinda and 11 for Amelia 
and Amanda. 

RULES:

You must be appropriately dressed. While short-sleeved 
shirts are allowed, they must have collars. Shorts, 
while allowed, are frowned upon, as are jeans. Khakis 
are preferred, though I realize you might not own any. 
The girls are to be appropriately dressed at all times, 
but I leave the definition of appropriate up to your 
discretion. Remember that we live in a very upscale 
development on the island, and news travels quickly.

Dinner is at 6 PM sharp, and it is required that 
everyone be there. There is a hot breakfast from 7:30-
8:30 AM, followed by a cold buffet until 10 AM. The 
girls are always to have some sort of breakfast, and 
you will always eat with at least 1 of them.

Amanda and Amelia are allowed to go to the club 
unsupervised -- the others need you to accompany them. 

If any of these responsibilities are not shouldered, or 
rules broken, your pay will be docked accordingly. 

--------------------------------------------

Below was her signature, and a space for mine. I signed 
it, faxed it back, and an hour later $1350.00 appeared 
in my bank account.

To be continued...

I'd love to know what you think, especially as I intend 
this to be part of a much longer work. Feel free to 
send feedback (especially positive feedback) to 
erosscribe@mac.com. Thanks!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 51