Father Of The Brood. Elizabeth Bevarly

       One

      “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done in my life. I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”

      Ike Guthrie gazed at his sister’s reflection in the cracked, spotty mirror and frowned. Nora Guthrie stood behind him, reaching over his shoulders to straighten his black bow tie. Behind her, a chorus of characters and a cacophony of voices split a haze of white cigarette and cigar smoke. Nora gave his tie one final tug, a gesture that nearly cut off his breath. He frowned again.

      “Why is it, big sister,” he grumbled through gritted teeth as he loosened the knot that had nearly strangled him, “that you’ve always been able to talk me into doing things I don’t want to do?”

      She brushed her palms down the smooth, satiny lapels of his tuxedo and smiled with much satisfaction. “It’s a talent I inherited from Mom. There. You look fabulous. You’re going to bring top dollar tonight. If you don’t win the grand prize, there’s no justice in the world.”

      Ike eyed her warily. Like he, Nora was well above average in height, but her five-foot-ten still only brought her to his chin. Like his, her white-blond hair was fine and straight, but where hers was wound into a sleek French twist, his was razor-cut short and stylish. Their blue eyes, too, were a perfect match, right down to the overly long lashes. He glanced at their formal attire and frowned yet again. He looked like a fool in this monkey suit. God almighty, how had he let Nora talk him into this?

      “Top dollar?” he repeated, turning to face her fully. “You talk like I’m some prime cut side of beef.”

      Nora brushed a speck of lint from his shoulder. “Tonight, dear brother, you are. And all we on the board of St. Bernadette’s Children’s Hospital care about is how much you bring per pound.”

      He opened his mouth to reiterate his reservations about this whole affair, but a loud commotion beyond a curtain on the other side of the room halted his objection. All the other men present in the room also paused to listen, each of them wearing an expression of undisguised panic. As if drawn by an invisible thread, Ike moved to stand next to the curtain, lifting his hand to pull it slightly to the side so that he could look past it.

      Beyond was a stage surrounded by hundreds of women, each clutching a fistful of dollars. At the moment, those women seemed to be uncommonly pleased by whatever unfortunate man was up for grabs, because they hooted and whistled and cheered as if the home team had just come in for another unchallenged touchdown.

      “Two thousand dollars!” Ike heard the auctioneer shout out in delight. Her voice was feminine, loud and rabid. “Going, going, gone! Well, ladies, that’s the highest bid we’ve received so far tonight. Looks like Dr. Gillette might just take home the grand prize.”

      “Phooey,” Nora muttered beside his ear. “They haven’t gotten an eyeful of Isaac Guthrie, Philadelphia’s most prominent architect.”

      Ike shook his head as more wolf whistles erupted from outside. “Something tells me they’re not going to care too much about what I do for a living,” he said softly.

      Nora made a face at him. “I know that. But you’ve got a great tush, Ike. I’m telling you, your choice loins are going to bring in a fortune.”

      Dr. Gillette came through the curtain then, dabbing a handkerchief at a forehead that was glistening with perspiration. “They’re animals,” he gasped. “Absolute animals. I don’t even know who bought me. Two women in the front row nearly came to blows.”

      Nora patted his back comfortingly as he passed. “Don’t worry, Dr. Gillette. I’m sure whoever purchased you is a perfectly nice woman.” She lowered her voice as she added to Ike, “It was probably Edith Hathaway. She said she was determined to buy a doctor for her daughter, Pamela, no matter what the cost. And hey, if you ask me, a cardiologist for two thousand bucks is a steal.”

      “Our next bachelor up for bids” came the auctioneer’s voice from the other side of the curtain, “is Mr. Isaac Guthrie, one of Philadelphia’s most prominent architects and most desirable men. I’m sure you’ve all admired the new Bidwell Corporate Center downtown. Well, Mr. Guthrie designed it. In addition to his architectural acumen, Isaac enjoys horseback riding, the poetry of Lord Byron and moonlit walks along the beach…”

      “No, I don’t,” Ike whispered to his sister. “I’ve never ridden a horse in my life, and I hate poetry. Where’s she getting all that stuff?”

      “Shh,” Nora quieted him. “There’s more. I wrote it myself.”

      “You wrote it? But, I gave them a different—”

      “Shh.”

      His sister silently mouthed the rest of his introduction as the auctioneer offered it. “He’s a Scorpio, thirty-six years old, a gourmet chef and excellent tennis player, who sees his dream woman as someone who’s smart, sensitive and has a great sense of humor….”

      Ike expelled a sound of disgust. “That’s supposed to read ‘someone who’s small, sexy, and has a great set of hooters.’ I thought it might keep anyone from buying me.”

      “I know, you jerk. That’s why I changed it.”

      He sighed. “Just wait, Nora. Someday, somehow, I’ll get even.”

      “Shh.”

      The auctioneer continued. “And the date Mr. Guthrie is offering is an overnight weekend extravaganza!”

      More catcalls and whistling indicated the crowd was very enthusiastic about the announcement, not to mention digging deeply into their pocketbooks.

      “‘Weekend extravaganza?’” Ike repeated incredulously. “I told them it was going to be dinner and a show. Where’s this all-night stuff coming fr… ?”

      He looked at his sister. Nora was smiling. “I told you you’re going to bring top dollar.” She rolled her eyes at his expression. “Oh, quit pouting. I’ve taken care of all the arrangements for you. All you have to do is show up.” Her smile became devilish. “Hey, it’s not like you can’t afford it, Mr. Moneybags. And it’s for charity, after all, Ike. Just remember that some deserving children are going to get the medical treatment they wouldn’t get otherwise because of you. Thousands of dollars worth of medical treatment if I have anything to say about it.”

      “Obviously, I don’t have anything to say about it, do I?”

      Nora shook her head.

      “Even though it’s my choice loins that are on the block?”

      “Shh. You might just be bought by the woman of your dreams.”

      “I doubt that.” He sighed, resigned to his fate. “Oh, well. I guess I should be happy that you at least got the part about my being a Scorpio right.”

      The auctioneer had by now finished describing the overnight excursion to Cape