And Baby Makes Three (1)

Blurb: Henry Tilney, paleontologist for a NY museum, is unwittingly roped into helping Catherine Morland take a leopard to a farm in Connecticut. NA as Bringing Up Baby.

I watched BUB while it was streaming last year with my oldest kid and this is what I took away from it. I recognize that the main male character ( "David", aka Cary Grant) is not a very good Henry Tilney as Henry is more witty and charming than hapless so be forewarned.

AND BABY MAKES THREE

1: Our Hero Begins His Quest

The phone on Henry's desk rang and he answered it instinctively. "Museum of Natural Sciences and History, New York, Paleontology Department. This is Henry Tilney speaking."

"Henry!" came the excited voice at the other end of the line.

"Eleanor? What are you doing, calling me?" His mind began to imagine all sorts of scenarios. His sister had been at the Wyoming dig site for nearly two years. They exchanged letters frequently but never phone calls; as far as he knew, they didn't have a telephone at the site.

"Henry, we found it!" she said, her glee palpable.

"You found it?"

"We found it!"

"You found… You found it? You found the intercostal clavicle? You found the intercostal clavicle!" Henry sprung from his seat, practically shouting as well. "This is so exciting! I can't wait to see it!"

"Howard was so excited when we found it that he finally proposed to me," Eleanor told him in a smaller voice but no less happy.

"Oh," was all Henry could say. He knew his sister had been in love with Howard since a week after they had started working on the site together.

"I was so excited that I said yes," she said again, even more quietly.

"Oh, that's wonderful," he told her and sat down again. "You'll make a beautiful bride, and --"

"We got married two days ago," she cut him off.

"You did what?"

"We found the intercostal clavicle a week ago, verified it and went to town to ship it to you, and then Howard and I stayed a few more days to get married and have a little honeymoon in a hotel room rather than a cabin. You should be getting the fossil today or tomorrow, Monday at the latest."

"You did what?" Henry repeated and stood again, trying to pace behind his desk on the short leash afforded by his phone.

Eleanor was being too calm about this, but she'd apparently had more time than her brother to get used to the news. "You know what Uncle Errol is like," she said, and Henry could clearly see her expression in his mind's eye. "He would have protested or tried to withhold his consent, as if it was up to him. And then he would have insisted that we come out to New York and invite 200 people and make Howard polish off his doctorate and wait three years and make a complete circus out of it! And Uncle Errol would just blame you for everything that went wrong the entire time. I just wanted to be married to Howard and now I am. Please tell me you're happy for me."

Henry swallowed a little something in his throat. "I am," he said. "I just wish I could have been there."

His sister sighed from all the way in Wyoming. "I feel the same," she said. "Howard and I decided to have a formal party when you come visit us -- you have to come visit us now -- to celebrate. And the intercostal clavicle is coming. That'll keep you busy for a few weeks."

"Yes, of course. I'm so happy for you. I can't believe you --"

There was a sharp rap on his door before it opened. His uncle stood on the threshold, ready to micromanage.

"I can't believe you found the intercostal clavicle!" Henry corrected himself, his tone shifting noticeably to accommodate his expanded audience. "Congratulations, to you and Howard. And everyone else! I'll tell Uncle Errol right away! Take care now, Eleanor. Good bye!"

And Henry hung up. He knew instinctively to hide Eleanor's elopement from his uncle. Everything Eleanor had complained about was true. The man would have refused to allow his niece to marry so far beneath her if it had been in his power. And failing that, he would have tried to recast it as a fundraiser for the museum, dragging it out for the maximum profit. And then he probably would have slashed Henry's budget anyway. Henry's budget paid for the Wyoming project so Henry would be forced to choose between his sister's happiness and his own.

"Your sister found the missing fossil?" his uncle surmised.

"She did," Henry smiled tightly. "It's already in transit, should arrive between today and Monday. I think this shows the importance of keeping the site funded --"

"Excellent news!" the director said. "This is just the sort of thing you need to tell Mr. Sherman today. If this museum can uncover rare fossils already, just think of how much more we'll achieve with a million dollars from the Allen Foundation!"

"Must I, Uncle?" Henry asked. Just the thought of courting donors made him weary. He wanted to stay in his office in case the fossil arrived today. He also didn't particularly like golf, and he especially didn't like the schmoozing his uncle constantly volunteered him to do. It wasn't that he didn't like talking to people, but he didn't like talking to people for the sole purpose of enriching the museum.

"Henry!" Errol Tilney said in a warning tone. "What have I told you about referring to me as your uncle while at work. You may be family but this is a professional institution. If people think you got your position through nepotism, it could undermine the integrity of the entire museum."

"Yes, sir," Henry grumbled quietly. That fear of ethical misconduct hung over Henry's head like the proverbial Sword of Damocles. It was why Henry was constantly agreeing to go above and beyond at work -- staying late, coming in over the weekend, meeting with potential donors -- just to show that he was as committed and deserving as anyone else. Henry didn't like to have his uncle criticize him but it was effective at getting Henry to do whatever his uncle wanted of him.

For a moment Errol's features softened. "I know you just got carried away with the excitement of the new find, but save it for Mr. Sherman. Your enthusiasm is a huge selling point among donors, so long as you keep the big science words to a minimum; no one likes to feel stupid. Come to think of it, maybe I should add a few lunches to your calendar next week. You can talk up the intercostal clavicle to the matrons and patrons, and see what loose change shakes out."

Rather than waiting to see what Henry thought of the idea, Errol wandered off to make the appointments.

Henry sighed and tried to consider himself lucky. Then he tidied his desk and got ready to go golfing.

.o8o.

Henry was supposed to meet with Alexander Sherman at a country club outside the city. He found the older man exactly where he said he would be: warming up on the practice green, sinking shot after shot from increasing distance. Mr. Sherman apparently took his golf rather seriously.

"Mr. Sherman!" Henry called out when he thought he wouldn't be distracting.

"Tilney?" The older man barely looked at him before checking his watch. "Right on time, let's get to the first tee."

At that, the man stalked off, leaving Henry and a caddy to collect the rest of the balls and the golf bag and trail after him.

"Mr. Sherman," Henry began as the older man set up his first shot.

Sherman glared at him and shushed him emphatically. He pulled back the club then brought it down. The ball left the tee with a satisfying thwack and sailed straight down the fairway to land near the green.

"Good shot, sir," Henry couldn't stop himself from saying before grimacing. He sounded like a toadie, which would probably be fine with his uncle but rubbed Henry the wrong way.

"I understand that you represent the Allen Foundation," Henry said as he set up his own ball, "and are in the position of being able to give the Museum of Natural Sciences and History a significant gift."

"Are you going to talk during the whole game?" Sherman asked, irritation in his voice. "Because let me tell you, young man, I play golf to play golf. If you want to talk business, save it for later. We'll get cocktails and talk about the museum after but right now I need you to focus on the game."

"Right," Henry said, slightly rattled after that little set down.

He wasn't an athlete but he was a man of science. Hitting a golf ball was just a physics problem brought to life. Velocity, angle of trajectory, friction: all he needed was the right mix to get the ball moving in the right direction. It should be easy.

He gripped his club and swung. There was the same satisfying thwack but Henry's ball flew 90 degrees in the wrong direction, through a stand of trees and onto the fairway of another hole.

"Let me just get that," said Henry, mortified,and then scurried off.

Mr. Sherman and the caddy began to walk toward the green.

.o8o.

The course was not empty, so Henry should not have been surprised to find someone else on the same hole as his wayward golf ball, but he was surprised to see the woman approach it with a club in hand and prepare to hit it.

"Wait!" Henry called before the woman made a serious mistake. "Stop!"

The woman looked over her shoulder at him and smiled sunnily then swung without even looking at the ball. It darted forward and landed on the green fifty yards away.

"Good shot," Henry said automatically.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him again.

"Good shot, but that was my ball," he corrected, his legs propelling him toward her.

Her smile faltered. "Are you playing this hole?"

"No," Henry admitted. "Actually, I'm supposed to be on the first hole with Mr. Sherman."

"Oh," she said, tucking her club under her arm and heading toward the green. "Well, this isn't the first and I'm not Mr. Sherman."

Henry stared at her retreating figure for a moment before snapping out of it. She really, really didn't look like a Mr. Sherman.

"Be that as it may," he hurried to fall in step beside her, "I had a bad drive and sent my ball over here and you just hit it."

"I find that unlikely," she said, her attention focused on the green.

"Unlikely but not improbable," said Henry. "I'm not a good golfer."

"Practice makes perfect," she told him. "You just need to play more often."

Henry grimaced. "Thanks for the advice but I don't honestly like it."

She spared him another glance. "You don't like my advice, or golf?"

"I don't like golf," Henry clarified as her caddy helped her exchange her club for a putter. "And I'll need to hear more of your advice before I can form an educated opinion on it. And that's still my ball."

"This ball?" she asked and tapped it into the hole from 3 yards.

"I know there's a saying about possession and nine-tenths, but yes."

"Well, I suppose I've finished for the day --" she was on the 18th hole, after all -- "so if you want to steal my ball now, I probably won't stop you. Probably won't even yell for help."

"You would accuse me of stealing my own property?" he asked, a confused smile on his face.

"Do you have the receipt of purchase?" she countered. "Otherwise, this is a classic he-said-she-said. And did you see that putt? I should take that wonderful ball home and frame it. That should be my lucky ball from this moment forward. I should have it dipped in bronze and placed in a trophy case. I should --"

"All right!" Henry said, not certain how much of this he could take. "I'm going to steal my ball back now. Don't scream."

"Oh no, someone help me," he heard her whisper under her breath for no one else to hear.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to stay with her and maybe have lunch together and talk about random bits of nothing, maybe brag about the intercostal clavicle. But he needed to find Mr. Sherman and talk about the Allen Foundation.

The worst part was that he couldn't even offer to see her around again. He was only at this club to meet with Sherman and if he didn't suitably impress the man -- a possibility growing more improbable with each minute of delay -- he'd never have a reason to be back.

With a self-deprecating smile, he showed her the initials he had scribbled on his ball, then went to go find Mr. Sherman without a word of farewell.

The truly worst part, Henry corrected himself later that day, was that it had taken another half hour to find Mr. Sherman, who had then sent Henry back to the first hole to play the course in its entirety from the beginning. Henry hadn't caught up with him again on the links, and hadn't found him at the bar afterwards. But there was a note inviting him back to the club for dinner that night where Mr. Sherman would listen to Henry talk about how the museum would like to use the Allen Foundation's money, if Henry was interested.

Henry was not especially interested, but he knew his obligations. He left a written reply to Sherman's note and returned to the museum.

His uncle fortunately was gone for the day. The intercostal clavicle unfortunately was not yet arrived. He stayed in his office as late as he could before giving up on the delivery arriving today and sped home to get ready for dinner with Mr. Sherman.