The View From Baskins' Ridge (Bobby and Clyde Redux)

Copyright © 2015, 2020 by Etienne

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Wherever possible, the syntax and spelling in this book follows guidelines set forth in The Chicago Manual of Style, 14th Edition, and in the Merriam-Webster online dictionary.

Cover Art © 2015, 2020 by Gerald Lopez

Acknowledgments

A word of thanks to my fans, whose encouraging e-mails and requests for more stories keep me going.

To Jim Kennedy, my long-suffering editor, who does his best to keep me on the straight and narrow comma path.

Dedication

Twenty plus years ago this month, a special person came into my life, and never left. This book is dedicated to my partner of twenty plus years.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Afterword

About the author

Contact the author

Other books by Etienne

The View From Baskins’ Ridge

(Bobby and Clyde Redux)

Chapter 1

Atlanta, GA

May 1974

BOBBY BASKINS, HIS partner Carlyle Baskins, and their friends Ashley Wallace and his partner Tom Collins were relaxing over a late-night dinner at the Pleasant Peasant in Midtown Atlanta. The restaurant had opened the previous year in a former drugstore location, and had been an immediate success. The dining room still had the original tin ceiling and floor of small octagonal tiles, all of which helped create a cozy ambiance for casual dining.

That was a great performance, Bobby said, referring to the Metropolitan Opera production they’d just seen at the Atlanta Civic Center. I’m so glad you got us acquainted with, and hooked on opera, Ash.

I knew you’d love it, Ash said, but it sure was an effort getting you to go there the first time.

That’s true, Bobby said, like most country boys, I had a lot of notions about what opera was, and all of them were totally wrong. But that was four years ago, and the rest, as they say, is history. Carlyle and I have been season ticket holders ever since.

And we’re going to miss it, when we move to North Carolina, Carlyle said.

No, we won’t, Bobby said. We’ll just take a week of vacation every year, and spend it in Atlanta during opera week.

And you’ll always have a place to stay, Ash said. We’re not moving anywhere.

Anyhow, Bobby said, Carlyle and I haven’t set any dates for anything—yet.

Yeah, Carlyle said. I have to graduate from law school, and Bobby will probably give Anderson, Rush at least a month’s notice.

Carlyle’s right, Bobby said. Our plans are fluid at this point.

Can I ask you a question, Bobby? Tom said.

Sure.

Did you and Carlyle ever talk about changing his name back to Clyde? I mean, it’s not like he’s in danger from the mob anymore. It’s got to feel funny calling him Carlyle. I mean you knew him as Clyde for the first sixteen years of your life.

I’ll let Carlyle answer that one, Bobby said, and looked at his partner.

Ash and Tom looked expectantly at Carlyle, who said, after a moment, Bobby and I actually talked about it a couple of times, but he left the decision up to me.

Carlyle paused so long that Ash said, somewhat impatiently, Well?

I decided that I liked being known as Carlyle Baskins, and perhaps more importantly, I really didn’t want to be known as Clyde Jeffers once again. Especially, considering all the associations from the past… enough said.

And neither of you is worried that the real Carlyle Baskins might turn up? Ash said.

Not a chance, Bobby said. My second cousin and his missionary parents disappeared in Africa too many years ago for that to be even a remote possibility.

That makes sense, Tom said, and looked up for a moment. I think our waiter is just about to serve our dinner.

Conversation ceased for a few minutes, as the four men dug into their food. They’d eaten salads earlier in the evening before they’d driven downtown to the Civic Center, and were hungry. When they began to talk once again, they spent the rest of their time in the restaurant talking about what they’d liked about the performance they’d just seen.

Who did you like best, Bobby? Ash said.

I liked Leporello, Bobby said. He pretty much stole the show when he was on stage.

That’s true, Ash said. Fernando Corena, who sang the role, has been around for a long time. I did some research, and learned that Leporello is the role he sang at his Met debut, back in the fifties.

What about you, Carlyle? Ash said. Which singer did you like best?

I sort of liked the lady who sang the role of Donna Anna, Carlyle said. I thought she was very good.

That’s interesting, Ash said.

What is? Bobby said.

Neither of you selected the most famous singer on stage this evening.

You mean Sherrill Milnes? Bobby said.

Yeah.

He was certainly good, Bobby said, but Don Giovanni isn’t a nice person. I don’t think we were supposed to like him.

That’s true, Tom said, but shouldn’t you be able to separate the quality of the singing from the actions of the character?

I guess so, Bobby said. "Next time I see Don Giovanni, I’ll pay more attention to the bad guy."

That prompted a laugh from the others at the table, and Ash said, Well, gentlemen, we’ve seen two operas this week, and we have three to go.

It’s hard to imagine the logistics and coordination it takes for the Met to take seven productions on the road, Tom said.

There certainly were a lot of semi-trailers parked in the far corner of the Civic Center parking lot, Bobby said.

Not only that, Ash said, but their traveling sets have to be scaled down from the sets they use in New York. The stages in some of the places they perform aren’t big enough to accommodate their regular sets.

Whatever they do to bring the operas to Atlanta, it’s certainly worth it from the perspective of the audience, Bobby said.

"And I’m looking forward to Der Rosenkavalier Friday night," Ash said.

Me, too, Carlyle said.

Later, as they drove up Piedmont Road, Bobby remembered something he’d meant to ask Tom. How’s the latest great American novel coming, Tom.

Mostly by hand, Tom said.

That’s not funny, lover, Ash said. You told me just the other day that you were making progress.

Yeah, I’m at twenty thousand words, instead of fifteen thousand, Tom said. Some progress.

What are you aiming for? Carlyle said.

The definition of how many words constitute a novel varies, Tom said, but I’m shooting for somewhere between ninety and one hundred thousand words.

Meaning you’re one-fifth done with it, Bobby said.

Yeah, but I have four-fifths of it still unwritten, Tom said.

Then, I guess you’d better get your butt in gear, hadn’t you? Bobby said.

As you know, his first book did pretty well, and we’re hoping the second one will do even better, Ash said.

Did you guys see that redheaded guy wearing the caftan at the opera? Tom said. The caftan was a sort of powder blue color, and the guy was also wearing a little cap to match.

Yeah, Bobby said. He was wearing a wedding ring and there was an attractive woman with him. That guy must have balls the size of grapefruits.

Man, you got that right, Ash said. I wouldn’t have the nerve to do that. Not even close.

And here we are, Bobby said. Home, sweet home.

Yeah, and I can’t get to bed fast enough, Carlyle said. I have final exams next week, and a lot of studying to do.

Chapter 2

Atlanta, GA

May 1974

HERE WE ARE ONCE again, Bobby said, as they walked inside the lobby of the Civic Center.

Yeah, Ash said, but it’s Saturday night, so we don’t have to get up early in the morning.

It’s also the last performance, Tom said. At least, until next year.

And I, for one, am looking forward to it, Bobby said. "Madama Butterfly is my second favorite opera."

What’s your favorite? Tom said.

"Tosca of course," Bobby said.

No argument there, Ash said. "They have a saying in Italy that translates as: ‘There is God, and there is Tosca’."

We all know you’re a fountain of trivia, Ash, Bobby said, but where in the world did you find that tidbit of information?

I went to high school with an Italian boy, Ash said. You remember Silvio Lucci, don’t you, Tom? He was with us in our junior year.

I sort of remember him, Tom said. Wait a minute! Did he have curly black hair, a hairy chest, and girls swooning at his feet?

Yeah, that was Silvio, Ash said. He told me that even small towns in Italy have opera houses. It’s part of the culture over there. He also told me those girls could eat their hearts out.

Why? Carlyle said.

Because he had a boyfriend back in Italy, and he was waiting for him to come to America.

I didn’t know that, Tom said.

That’s because he told it to me in secret, Ash said.

Look at that, Bobby said, nodding his head to the left. The caftan guy is here again.

I’ll bet he’s the most comfortable guy in the house, Carlyle said.

Why do you say that? Tom said.

Ventilation, my boy, ventilation, Carlyle said. Think about it. It’s pretty warm for May, and the air conditioning isn’t turned down low enough. If he’s wearing boxers and a T-shirt under the caftan, he’s not going to get uncomfortable in that getup.

You’ve got a point there, Sluggo, Bobby said.

You guys still call each other Sluggo and Rollo from the Nancy comic strip? Tom said.

You bet we do, Carlyle said.

But only when we’re alone, or with very close friends, Bobby said.

Ash looked at his watch, said, I think it’s time we went to our seats, and led the rest of the group in that direction.

BOBBY SAT TOTALLY mesmerized during the third act and, along with the rest of the audience, was totally taken aback during the scene when Butterfly was saying good-bye to her child. She was on her knees clutching the little boy as he stood in front of her. Somehow, it got through to the local kid playing the part of the child, that this lady was really, really upset as she sang; and they watched as a small hand reached up and patted Butterfly on the back to comfort her. It was a spontaneous moment that really caught the attention of the audience.

As they drove away from the Civic Center, the group talked about what they’d just seen. Ash, in particular, had high praise for the singing.

It’s too bad the lead soprano was taken ill, Ash said.

Yeah, but the lady who took her place in Acts Two and Three did a good job, don’t you think? Bobby said.

That’s true, Ash said. Lucine Amara has been around for quite a while, but she doesn’t have the vocal power that Teresa Zylis-Gara does, when she’s at the top of her form.

We’ll take your word for that, Ash, Bobby said. After all, of the four of us, you’re the most knowledgeable, when it comes to opera.

When that little boy patted Butterfly on the back, was that spontaneous? Carlyle said.

Most likely, Ash said. It was cute, but it distracted my attention from some rather powerful singing, so I find it hard to believe they planned it. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I focus on music, particularly one of the major arias in the opera, I get totally immersed in it. That back-patting gesture knocked me right out of the singing. I think the local boy they used simply got carried away. I mean, even if he didn’t understand what she was singing, her anguish was obvious, even to a kid.

That’s what I thought, Bobby said. Here we are on Juniper Street. Does that give anyone any ideas?

Meaning? Carlyle said.

I was wondering if you guys would like to go from the sublime to the ridiculous, and stop by The Armory for a nightcap? Bobby said.

Sure, Tom said. Chances are, if we hang around a bit, we’ll meet some of the cast from the opera.

You’re kidding… aren’t you? Carlyle said.

Not at all, Ash said. I doubt if the guy who sang the role of Pinkerton will be there, but there’s no doubt in my mind that some of the bit players and/or guys from the chorus will.

This I gotta see, Tom said.

I take it we’re all in agreement, then? Bobby said.

Stop talking and head for the Armory, Rollo, Carlyle said.

THAT WAS CERTAINLY a fun evening, Carlyle said, as he and Bobby snuggled in their king-size bed.

You said a mouthful there, Sluggo, Bobby said. Imagine meeting one of the cast members, even if he was singing a minor role?

That was nice, but it wasn’t the best part of going to The Armory.

Really! What was the best part?

Dancing with my man of course, Carlyle said.

Yeah. That’s something we don’t do nearly often enough. I really liked it when they played a slow number.

Why? Carlyle said.

Because I could hold you close while we danced, that’s why.

Now that we’re naked and in our bed, you can hold me a lot closer than that, Rollo.

You plucked that thought right out of my head, Sluggo.

OVER BREAKFAST THE next morning, the four men were still talking about the performance they’d been to the night before.

It’s too bad your mother and sister couldn’t come to Atlanta this year, Bobby, Ash said.

They wanted to be here again this year, but Mom’s going through some female type problems at the moment, and Laura’s so wrapped up in getting her Doctorate that she couldn’t—or more likely, wouldn’t—take the time.

Well, there’s always next year, Ash said.

Yeah, Bobby said. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve got a ton of work to do today. Going to a matinee of one opera and an evening performance of another pretty much killed my Saturday.

You and me both, buddy, Ash said. Season ticket holders are required to take the matinee, and there was no way I was gonna see the money go to waste.

No argument there, Ash said, and the Rossini opera yesterday afternoon was interesting.

True, but all this talk isn’t getting my work done, Bobby said, and rose from the table.

Nor my homework, Carlyle said.’

I know Ash has a briefcase full of work, too; so, I’ll take care of the dishes, Tom said.

Chapter 3

Atlanta, GA

Monday morning

AS USUAL, BOBBY was one of the first people to arrive at the offices of Anderson, Rush, Dean, Lowndes, and van den Berg that morning. And as usual, he started the coffeemaker in the break room, then carried the cup of coffee he’d purchased at the downstairs coffee shop to his office, where he sat at his desk for a long moment or two. It wasn’t a very large office, and was typical of the offices occupied by any new associate of the law firm. It had been his for almost seven years now, and there was very little of himself in the office to show for it. There were two framed photographs on his credenza: one a portrait of his parents on their thirtieth wedding anniversary, and one of himself and Carlyle at sixteen, when they’d both earned the rank of Eagle Scout. The three diplomas on one wall completed the personal items; and the rest of the wall space was devoted to bookshelves and a couple of file cabinets.

I haven’t left much of a mark on this space, he thought.

His musings were interrupted by the ringing of his telephone, so he picked up the receiver.

Bobby Baskins.

Got a minute, Bobby? Zandy said.

Sure.

Come to my office, then… and bring your coffee with you, if you like.

I’m drinking coffee from downstairs at the moment, so if you don’t mind, I’ll stop by the break room for some fresh.

See you in a few, Zandy said, and broke the connection.

Alexander ‘Zandy’ Collins had just turned fifty, was an athletic six foot two, and his blond hair was thinning. He was a partner in the firm, its senior litigator, and Bobby’s mentor and immediate superior.

Bobby took his now empty cup to the break room and disposed of it. Then he poured a fresh cup and carried it with him to Zandy’s office, where he selected one of the side chairs and made himself comfortable.

What’s up, boss? Bobby said.

As you probably know, there’s a partners’ meeting next month, Zandy said.

I know.

What would you say if I were to put you up for partner?

I’m flattered, Zandy, but I’d have to say, ‘Don’t do it.’

Why ever not?

For one thing, you know I’ve always planned to join my dad and my grandfather in Asheville at some point; and since Carlyle will graduate from law school this month, that seems like a good time to start making plans. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you by leaving the firm right after you’d pushed to make me a partner.

Zandy sighed. Yeah, I know. You’ve always made your long-range plans clear. I was hoping I could tempt you to change your mind.

I’ll always be grateful for your support and help, Zandy; especially, back when I re-discovered Carlyle. And I can’t even begin to articulate how much I’ve learned from you—

But? Zandy said.

Grandma has been pushing Grandpa to slow down for quite some time now, and there’s no way Dad can handle the load by himself. Bobby grinned. Then there’s the fact that you can take the boy out of the mountains, but you can’t take the mountains out of the boy. I hear the Blue Ridge calling, and much as I’ve enjoyed my years in Atlanta… it’s time. I was planning to give you something like thirty days notice at the end of the month.

That’ll give us time to take another look at some of our second- and third-choice potential recruits at Duke and other schools this year, Zandy said. I wish I could persuade you to change your mind. Are you sure you won’t be bored in a place like Asheville; especially, after the kind of law you’ve practiced in Atlanta?

I won’t have time for that, Bobby said. Carlyle and I will be too busy building our house to be bored. We already have the site selected and the plans drawn. All we have to do is cut a path up the ridge that’s wide enough for pack animals to carry the building materials.

You’re not planning to build some sort of driveway? Zandy said.

Only if we get lucky and find an easy route up the ridge—maybe something a Jeep can navigate. We really don’t want to spend that kind of money. Also, I think we’ll enjoy the solitude imposed by the lack of easy access.

When you do resign, and thirty days is gracious of you, don’t sever the tie completely, Zandy said. Leave the door open a crack, in case we might want you to act for us in Asheville, should the occasion warrant.

In other words, don’t dynamite the bridge?

Just so.

The letter, when I compose it, will be a masterpiece of affection for Anderson, Rush… and regret at being called by family obligations.

I don’t doubt that for a minute, Bobby. You’ve always had a way with words. Well, since I can’t tempt you, I’ll let you get back to work.

Thanks for your understanding, Zandy. I appreciate it.

Zandy chuckled. Go generate some billable hours.

Bobby returned to his desk feeling much better about things. In fact, he’d dreaded having the conversation when the time came. With that thought, he began to deal with the cases he was working on.

THAT EVENING OVER dinner, Bobby told Carlyle and the others about his conversation with Zandy. Ash was stunned at the news.

You mean Zandy was seriously going to push you for a full partnership at thirty-two? Ash said.

So he told me, Bobby said.

Do you realize how significant that is, Bobby? Ash said.

What are you talking about, buddy?

You really are a little bit too naive about the ways of the world, my friend, Ash said. Most young lawyers in large firms like yours and mine, are lucky to be made partner by forty. Thirty-five is the rare exception.

He only suggested it, because he thought it might tempt me to stay, Bobby said. Besides, there’s no way the other partners would have agreed.

You know Zandy’s motive for proposing it, but you can’t predict what the partners might, or might not have done, Ash said.

Whatever might have happened, it’s a moot point now, isn’t it? Bobby said. I told him I’d be giving him thirty days at the end of this month.

I guess that’s my cue to get my butt graduated and pass the bar, right? Carlyle said.

Yes, it is, Bobby said. You need to sit for the bar exams in North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, in that order.

What about Florida? Carlyle said.

When you have time, Bobby said. Maybe we both ought to look at Tennessee and Virginia, as well.

Why? Carlyle said.

Who knows where the expanding practice of Baskins and Baskins might take us in the future?

That makes sense.

Later that evening, when the four men were sharing a nightcap in the den, Bobby noticed that Ash had a large hardcover book open in his lap.

What’s that book you’re so engrossed in, Ash? Bobby said.

My paternal grandmother sent every member of the family a copy of a new genealogy of the Wallace family. There’s a lot of interesting stuff in here, mostly about distant relatives I’ve never heard of. For example, I just learned that my grandmother’s sister ran off with a man from somewhere around Asheville years ago, and was never heard from again. There’s a picture of her and my grandmother in the book.

Let me see, Bobby said.

Ash handed him the open book, and pointed at a small photo.

Wow, Bobby said. Your grandmother was good-looking as a young girl, wasn’t she?

Yeah, and so was her sister, Ash said. From what I’ve heard, the sister had a wild streak in her.

Your grandmother’s sister? Bobby said. That would make her your great-great-aunt, right?

I think it’s one great, but who’s counting? Ash said. There’s a table in the front of the book that shows you how to calculate relationships.

Really? Carlyle said. I’ve never understood all that ‘cousins twice removed’ stuff.

It’s really easy, Carlyle, Ash said. Take yourself, for example. To calculate your relationship with Bobby, you go back to your common ancestor, in this case, your great-grandfather. Count down the number of generations from him to you, which would be three in both cases. Subtract one from the smallest of those two numbers, and that makes you second cousins. There’s no degree of removal, because you’re both in the same generation. On the other hand, using the same formula, you’d be Bobby’s father’s first cousin once removed.

If you say so, Ash, Carlyle said. In any case, it’s hypothetical, given that Bobby and I aren’t related by blood.

You know very well that my parents have always looked on you as their third son, Bobby said.

True, but that’s honorary, Carlyle said.

That’s all very interesting, Bobby said, but right now, I say it’s time to hit the sack. I have to be in court first thing tomorrow morning. And the judge handling the case is a stickler for starting on time.

Chapter 4

Atlanta, GA

May

THE BASKINS FAMILY was in Atlanta to attend Carlyle’s graduation from the John Marshall Law School. Carlyle had been more than a bit surprised, when he’d learned that Bobby’s grandparents were coming to the commencement ceremony, along with the rest of the family. While they were waiting in the restaurant of the Terrace Garden Inn for the rest of the family to join them, he said as much to Bobby’s mother, whom he’d begun calling ‘Mom’ a few years earlier.

I’m just overwhelmed, Mom, he said. Surely, everybody has better things to do.

Shame on you, Carlyle! she said. You’ve been a part of this family in one way or another for most of your life—especially these past five years. What’s important to you and Bobby is important to the rest of us. And I’ll tell you something else—we’re all looking forward to having you and Bobby home with us again.

And Carlyle and I are looking forward to being home, Bobby said. "Atlanta has its