Original subtitles

[♪♪♪]

- Uh, Stephanie...you--

you might want to dust under that bowl.

- I already did.

- I'll just... I'll just check.

- Dick, if you lift that bowl, it means you don't trust me

and things will never be the same between us again.

- I'll take that chance.

- Neat freak!

[DICK CLEARS THROAT]

- Honey, I just had the most exciting lunch with Roz.

- Oh, really? What did you have?

- Well, chicken salad.

- Wow! No wonder you're excited.

- Was there a centerpiece on your table?

- I believe so.

- Did you lift it to check for dust?

- [SIGHS] Oh, who would do that?

- Oh, I don't know.

Maybe somebody with a dust fixation.

- Anyway, Roz's whole life is changing

and she said mine can, too.

- All these years,

I've underestimated the power of chicken salad.

- Will you listen to me? I finally found my true calling!

It combines personal growth and fulfillment

with service to the community.

I'm going to sell real estate!

- That--that would have been my guess.

- Roz says once I take my exam and get my license,

I can join her at Blue Horizon Realty.

Dick, do you realize in two weeks,

you could wake up next to a real estate agent?

- Some men only dream of that.

- I hope they don't make you wear one of those yucky blazers.

- Somehow I expected a little more enthusiasm.

- Well, it's just that you're always gung-ho

about some new project and then you never stick to it.

At first you wanted to be a travel agent,

then an aerobics instructor.

- Neither of those quite fulfilled me.

- What about that dream to master the harpsichord?

- That was too hard.

- The minute something gets difficult,

you bail out.

You're like a career looky-lou.

- Well, maybe if you gave me some encouragement

once in a while...

- I give you encouragement.

Didn't I go to that-- that harpsichord recital?

I mean, I was just as proud as all the other moms and dads.

- Dick, I really think I can sell real estate.

- Okay, if you're serious, I'm behind you.

- Do you mean that, honey?

- You bet!

- In that case, I'll need $400 for the course.

- Then sell your harpsichord.

- Good morning, Dick.

- George.

- What are you reading?

- My will. - Oh my gosh, Dick! No!

- George, I'm not dying yet.

- Oh, thank goodness! So what's with the will?

- I just want to be prepared.

You know, in case something does happen.

- God forbid.

- You know, George, we don't have any heirs,

so Joanna and I have decided to--to leave the inn to you.

- I'm speechless.

I never knew you thought of me as a son.

- I-I don't, George.

We're, you know, we're pretty much the same age.

- We are?

The years have certainly taken their toll on you.

- Okay, here you go. Blueberry pancakes and sausage.

- I didn't order that. I'm allergic to blueberries.

- Okay. Then they're raisins.

Fine!

Most allergies are all in the mind, you know.

- Gee, the next time I see that will,

I'll own the inn and you'll be...God forbid.

- Well, let's hope that's a long time from now, George.

- Uh, let's not rush things, Dick.

- Dick? Are you sick?

- No, I feel fine, Stephanie.

- No, I mean, about leaving the inn to George.

What about me? Did I do something wrong?

- No, Stephanie.

I just assumed that your parents would be providing for you.

- Well, I'm sorry, but I have to contest this will.

- Well, you can't contest the will until after we're gone.

- And well, when do you think you might be leaving?

- What would be convenient for you?

Stephanie, why-why would you want the Stratford?

You never seemed particularly happy in your work.

- Excuse me. Miss, my pancakes?

- Oh, here! Just eat around the blue parts.

I love my work!

- I just stopped by for my daily quota of kiss.

Problemas in paradiso, Cuppers?

- I'm sorry, Michael. It's just hard to be giving

when so much is being taken from me.

- What's being taken from you? Tell me.

- Dick and Joanna have cut me out of their will.

- Dick, have you no shred of decency?

- Stephanie was never in our will.

- It just keeps getting more heinous!

- They're leaving the inn to George.

Obviously they like him more than me,

and after all the sacrifices I've made for them.

- Oh, I knew this would happen.

Miss, do you have any antihistamines?

- You see, it never ends.

Follow me.

Hypochondriac.

- You make her your beastette of burden

and then you bequeath her zip?

- Michael, Stephanie is hardly overworked here,

and I assumed that her parents

would be bequeathing her millions.

- Billions, Dick. For my last birthday,

Pop Vanderkellen granted me a gander at the will.

It was stunning!

Oh, by the way, thanks again for your card.

- You're welcome.

- Dick, I have the most exciting news!

- You had chicken salad again?

- Well, yes, but I passed the test!

I got my real estate license.

- Thumbs up, JoJo.

- Well, congratulations, honey. I-I knew you could do it.

- Really?

- Sure, an-and I'm proud of you.

As a matter of fact, I'm--I'm more than proud.

I'm--I'm darn proud.

I'm--I'm going to take this and frame it...

and hang it in my study.

- Your study? Wow, you are darn proud.

- Joanna, I-I hate to niggle, but are you...are you sure

you've got the grit to make it in the real estate biz?

- I can be gritty. I can be darn gritty.

- Those people are sharks.

On the very day my grandfather's ashes

were scattered over the ocean,

my sweet grandmother was hounded into selling her house.

- Oh, that's awful.

- I know. I should have waited a day.

But from then on,

I knew I wasn't cut out to be a real estate agent.

- Well, I don't see the job that way at all.

I think it's more about finding what a client's tastes are,

whether it's Victorian, Tudor, split-level,

and then matching them up with their dream house.

- Well, what if their taste whispers Tudor,

but their wallet wails roach-infested shack

by the highway?

- Well, then, I'll just wait until something fumigated

comes along.

- Damn. Before you can say escrow-change-o,

some vulture comes along and sells that shack,

only now it's a cozy cottage.

The highway spells easy access

and the roaches become rustic charm.

- Oh, come on, Michael. There's still room

for a real estate broker with honesty and integrity.

- Yeah, there's plenty of room. You'll be the only one.

- Hi, George. Are you hammering something?

- I'm replacing the old nails with wooden pegs.

- You're such a craftsman.

How I love this old inn.

- Did you know Dick and Joanna left the inn to me

in their will?

- Oh-h-h-h! What a lovely gesture.

If there's anyone who treasures this glorious landmark

as much as me, it's you, George.

- Gee, thanks.

- I'm sure you and your family will...

oh, that's right,

you don't really have a family, do you, George?

- No.

- Well, if it makes you feel any better,

I've always thought of you as a member of my family

or at least a member of my family's staff.

- Are you subtly hinting

that you'd like me to leave you the inn?

- Oh, George, I never imagined! Me, mistress of the Stratford!

- I'm not sure, Stephanie.

I don't know if you've got what it takes to be a mistress.

- Dick?

- Hi, Joanna.

- Honey, you know that lovely couple we met in group therapy?

Tommy Lee and Tish Holliday?

- You mean the-the lovely couple

who-who smashed Dr. Kaiser's windshield in

with a tire iron because she didn't validate?

- They apologized.

Anyway, they want me to sell their house!

- I thought they lived in a trailer.

- They do, but they want to move up.

Tish won a nice bundle at a cock fight.

- I guess she knew when to walk away.

- Now they can afford to buy a real house,

and they want me to find it for them.

I wonder where I should start looking.

- How about Tijuana?

- Dick, it's taken me two weeks, but I finally figured it out.

- Figured what out?

- Why you're leaving the inn to George,

your pet handyman,

instead of to your devoted,

hardworking charwoman who has slaved for years

for meager wages,

and a few scraps from your dinner table.

- Well, don't worry about Joanna.

She'll be fine.

- No, Dick, I'm talking about myself.

- How unusual!

- Anyway, I realize that I must have done

something horrendous to you in the past.

- Stephanie, I've told you, you have done nothing.

- I know better, Dick. It's all right here in my diary.

Here. Read it. June 2, 1986.

- "I got a postcard from my best friend Libby.

"She's cruising the Mediterranean

"with a prince named Giorgio and they're talking marriage.

I hope she dies."

What--what does this have to do with

my not leaving you the inn?

- Dick, that was that day that I didn't give 100% to my work

and walked around pouting.

- I thought that was yesterday.

Stephanie, I have no recollection of that day at all.

- You don't remember?

Wow, then I must have done something even worse.

Well, I'm going to find out what it is and make restitution.

I swear it!

- "June 3. Saw Dick in his underwear.

Ewwww!"

Hi. Hi, honey.

Did you close the deal on the trailer?

- Just this afternoon.

New owners hitched it up and drove it away.

- I-I-I have to hand it to you.

You're--you're handling this really well.

- Well...

- So, uh, how are the Hollidays enjoying their new home?

- Well, they're not really enjoying it yet.

You see, I didn't quite make the sale of the trailer

contingent on my finding them a new house.

- What--what are you saying?

That they--they have no place to stay?

- Oh, yeah. They do.

- Well, shoot off my pinkie and call me Betty.

This place is a damn palace!

Well, don't just stand there, Tish.

Go out and haul in that steamer trunk.

- And, uh, where do you plan on living, Joanna?

- Ooooh, what a babe!

Do you ever think about cheatin' on the little woman, Loudon?

- No, but if I did,

it wouldn't be with Judy Jetson.

Tommy Lee, I, uh, I don't appreciate Louis on...

on my sofa.

- You want him off?

Throw some Cheetos on the floor.

He'll dive for 'em.

- He's not moving.

- He's seen Tish fall for it too many times.

- Dick...

I'm not one to complain,

but Joanna's friends are ruining my...your...our inn.

Are those Cheetos on the floor?

- Pigs. They're...they're pigs.

- Dick, I finally figured it out.

It was that time I told you

I mailed your manuscript to your publisher,

but instead, I lost it,

and so, I sent you that phony rejection letter.

- You did what?

- Oh, you didn't know?

I thought for sure that was it.

- Oh, you're a sweet one. You make me think things.

- Ewwww!

- It's okay. Maybe he meant me.

- Um, Tommy Lee, maybe you and your...family should...

spend more time in-- in your room.

It's nice up there... and completely out of sight.

- What's the point of spendin' time in the bedroom?

Tish is already preggos.

- Well, it's hard to argue with that logic.

[PHONE RINGS]

- Stratford Inn. Yeah, just a minute.

It's for you. It's your foreman.

- Uh, I'm in the middle of my story.

Say I'm sick.

- You're not sick.

- Oh, yeah?

Walk a mile in my brain, Loudon.

- He's uh...he-he-he's sick... in the...in the head.

He's...he's got... he's got a headache.

Why would I lie to you about something like that?

- My foreman's callin' you a liar?

Hang up on that fat goon. I'm walkin'.

- No, no. You can't. You can't quit.

Look, you don't have to use language like that.

I...I am not the one... Well, you sure talk tough.

She hung up on me.

- Tish, we've looked at nine houses.

Didn't any of them appeal to you?

- We need a lot of space, Jo.

I mean, call me a fertile Myrtle,

but I think the good Lord's blessed me and Tommy Lee

with a doubleheader.

- Well, congratulations! Twins.

- Hmmm, that would be nice, too.

Tommy Lee! What are you doin' here?

You said you couldn't come house huntin' 'cuz you was workin'.

- Uh, uh...the company went under...right after you left.

- You lyin' ol' rummy.

Now how we gonna afford a house with you out of a job?

- Darlin', we can struggle by

'til the next cock fight comes along.

- Sure, that may be fine for some people,

but we just can't go on livin' from cock fight to cock fight.

I need stability. I need a steady paycheck.

- Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I don't feel right about you

climbin' up them phone poles in that condition.

- What have I gotten myself into?

Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a real estate broker.

- Joanna, I'm only going to say this once...

you can be anything you want to be.

If you want to be my wife, get them out of here.

- Still haven't put a roof over the riffraff?

- Oh, Michael, I'm in way over my head.

I'm turning out to be the worst real estate agent

in the history of land.

I can't sell a thing!

- Hey, banish those blues, Jo.

Let old Michael Harris help you hoist your hopes.

- There's no use looking through the real estate section.

We've already seen every house listed.

- Right idea, wrong section.

Hello, Mrs. Kimmel? Yes, hi.

I'm calling from Blue Horizon Realty.

We'd like to express our deep, deep sorrow

over the loss of your beloved...

- Oh!

I will not take advantage of this poor woman!

[GLASS BREAKING]

[DOG BARKS]

- [TOMMY LEE YELLING] Dammit, Tish.

You didn't have to go and throw my damn handgun

through the damn picture tube!

- You must be so lonely rattling around in that big old house.

- You will take good care of my old house, won't you?

- You bet. I got big decoratin' plans right here.

- And what would they be, Tommy Lee?

Another beer can room divider?

- Just put one more straw on my back, Tish.

- Well, looks like all the papers are in order.

This calls for a celebration.

I'd like to take everyone to dinner at the Drum and Musket.

- I hate the Drum and Musket.

That's where I first met...my demons.

- How about Burger King?

- Burger King's good. - Good!

- We'll meet ya there, Jo.

I'd like to stop by the house

and measure the window in the back bedroom.

- Oh, curtains would look lovely there.

- Oh, not curtains...bars.

We'll be keepin' our boy Harold in that room.

- Every now and again,

when he needs a place to lay low.

[CHUCKLES]

[GIGGLES]

[SIGHS]

- So how'd it go? - All done.

- You know, uh, through all of this,

I have to admit I had my doubts,

but, uh, you... you saw it through.

- I did make some pretty big mistakes,

and I'll probably be making more.

- Well, not as big as this last one.

- Oh, I don't know.

- Say--say it won't be as big as this last one.

- Well, uh, Tommy Lee and Tish couldn't actually get a loan

without a co-signer, and... - You didn't!

How--how could you co-sign their loan?

You--you don't own anything.

Except half of the Stratford.

- There's nothing to worry about, really.

See, there's this big cock fight coming up,

and Tish has this system.

- No jury in the world would convict me!

- Dick, I've come to a decision.

- About what, George?

- When you finally meet your maker, God forbid...

I don't want you leaving me the inn.

- Why not, George?

I thought you liked the security of owning something.

- I do.

It's the responsibility that's eating me alive.

The Stratford is like a ship.

Some...some people are meant to be captains like you, Dick,

and some are meant to be swabbies.

- If that's the way you really feel about it, George,

we won't leave you the inn.

- Oh, thanks, Dick.

You've made me a very happy swabby.

- Oh, uh, Stephanie.

We've decided to leave you the inn after all.

- Really? What about George?

- He, uh, he passed on it.

- Oh, so basically I'm getting George's rejects.

- No, you're getting a 200-year-old inn.

- As an afterthought. I wasn't your first choice.

- So?

- Dick, I don't shop at garage sales,

I don't wear used clothing,

and I certainly don't want some old hand-me-down inn.

- You mean--you mean you don't-- you don't want the inn?

- Sorry. You had your chance.

- How--how could you turn this down?

- Dick, get off my back!

- Is it-- is it something I did?

Te-tell me what I did!

[♪♪♪]

- Meow.