Pelham and the Silver Shirt, Part 1

No sooner did my eyes pop than Pelham glided into my bedroom with the morning coffee and tuck. “Your breakfast, sir.”

“I’ve sent your latest paramour on her way with toast and cab fare. I believe I was successful in giving the impression you would be abroad for the foreseeable future,” he icily intoned.

The mood had been decidedly chill about the abode since Monday. Pelham was a good man, but he sometimes overstepped. We’d butted heads a time or two before and I’d made the mistake of giving ground. Not this time.

I found a dashing new shirt that I was raring to wear out on the town, but he took exception, going so far as to say I’d be pressing it myself! As much as we Lauries avoid confrontation – I’ve a great uncle who emigrated to Canada in peacetime “just in case” – a line must be drawn.

I straightened up and eyed the man squarely. “I’ll be wanting the new shirt pressed for the evening, Pelham.”

Giving me a bit of fish-eye back, he said, “the silver abomination? No sir. You won’t be wanting that.”

Pelham Presents

God’s honest, I don’t know how the great unwashed do it. Getting through prep’s easy: grease a scholarship boy’s palm and you’ll need never iron a shirt or polish a shoe. If you’re like my best bud Biff who was a three-sport star, you don’t even need the scratch, but I was a “meritorious legacy” – which is a nice way of saying I wasn’t up to snuff but pops was an alum – so I ponied up.

After prep and a few years giving college a go, I realized I’d grown accustomed to having a caretaker. I tried dating, but that led to drama and severely inhibited the bachelor’s life I so love. Then it hit me. I was a young man of means. Why not?

I’ll be honest; your pal Trip broke not a few eggs in making that omelet. Over eight months, five valets – a rogue’s gallery of thieves and miscreants – came through Casa Laurie until I found Pelham. He’s the consummate gentleman’s gentleman, but not some stuffy old fart. There isn’t much call for valets in this day, so it was a miracle we found each other. I’d be lost without him.