Monk Baldwin was one of Ben’s favorite people. He was the long-time butler on Mossy Swamp Plantation, and the epitome of a gentleman. Always pleasant, always observant of the needs for help of family and guests and fellow employees at Mossy Swamp, Monk had come to Ben for help more than once when he sensed something needed to be done at Mossy Swamp and that Ben might be able to put that something in motion with less disruption or likelihood of hurting feelings than another approach. In his youth he had worked as a Pullman Porter.
Monk had called Joanne for an appointment with Ben on a Monday afternoon. She had booked him for 9:30 Tuesday morning. Ben was in the library-conference room when he arrived but walked out to the reception room where Joanne’s desk stood to greet Monk.
Monk’s smile lit the room. Ben reached out his right hand to shake and his left to grasp Monk’s shoulder but Monk, standing almost two feet taller, embraced Ben in a bear hug instead. Then he was embarrassed until Ben returned the hug.
“You sho look good, Mr. Ben. Miss Joanne must be taking good care of you these days,” Monk said, the twinkle bright in his eyes. Ben motioned Monk to the library-conference room, and the big man, graceful as always , ducked to miss the door sill. Ben thought, he’s the only man I’ve ever known taller than Mr. George Moreland.
They took seats at the table, Ben at the head, Monk to his left (so he would have Ben’s better ear). Joanne had glasses of ice water on coasters before them (she knew Monk did not drink coffee). Monk inquired of Ben’s children and Ben confirmed they were getting along fine. Ben inquired of Monk’s son and only child (both men were widowers).
“He’s home from the Army, thank the Lord, not going back.” Monk’s face showed both relief and worry.
Ben knew Monk’s son Ron had made the Army his career and had served at least three enlistments, advancing to the top enlisted rank. Sensing Ben’s puzzlement, Monk said, “He decided a lifetime in the Army was not for him after all, he’s taking a year off before deciding what to do with the rest of his life. He’s staying with me at Mossy Swamp and it’s sure nice to have him.”
Ben knew Ron had served at least four deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan and been decorated for valor. “Please give him my best. I’ll stop by to see him soon at Mossy Swamp (March first was fast approaching and Monk knew Ben was alluding to a bream fishing trip with Dr. Sam).
“What can I help with, Monk?” Ben cut to the chase.
“It’s Miz Alice, Sir. It’s time she stopped driving. I’m afraid she’s going to have an accident and hurt herself or somebody else or both. It’s her vision …and I hate to say it but her memory too,” Monk said.
Ben was not surprised. Hardly a week passed that he was not confronted with similar news concerning a client or friend, contemporaries of his or younger.
Out of nowhere an idea struck him, and without a moment’s hesitation he expressed it to Monk.
“Suppose I propose that Ron become her chauffeur for a time, while he is deciding what he wants to pursue next. I would talk to her children first, tell them what you have observed.”
Monk lit up in a grin. “ I think that is a splendid idea. Ron has been a favorite of hers since he was a little boy, and he is very fond of Miz Alice, and he needs something not too stressful while he’s unwinding.”
“You talk to Ron about it, and I’ll talk to the children. You call me and I’ll call you when we get that done.”
Ben called Monk next day. Ben had talked to Alice’s three children by phone in New York, Atlanta and Boston , and all were enthusiastically in favor. Monk had talked to Ron who was willing to give it a try. Next to be sold on the idea was Miz Alice.
A widow for five years now, she lived at Mossy Swamp full time rather than migrating north in Spring as she had in earlier years. Ben decided to talk to Sam about an approach. Over drams of The Macallan at the day’s end, they decided to visit Alice together. They called Monk and made the date.
The hat was Sam’s idea. It was a formal chauffeur’s hat like one he had seen in London, resembling a military brimmed Army officer’s from World War Two. After Ben and Sam talked alone with Alice, they had Ron enter the room wearing the hat. He had not lost his military bearing, though the stress of combat had left lines on the handsome dark copper face Alice had admired since he was a toddler. Alice was charmed, and never complained about the loss of her car keys.
Five years later, after Alice’s death, Ron became manager of Mossy Swamp Plantation, and Monk semi-retired as butler. He chose to continue in that role for the main all-hands family gatherings at Thanksgiving, Christmas and in Spring at the opening of turkey season. His nephew David who had worked as a waiter in New York succeeded him as butler.
Ron’s service in the Army had been as a medic. He still suffered on occasion from PTSD from the horrors of combat he’d endured. Sam helped him with that and made a contact for him with a specialist he trusted and Ron came to trust.