Here Comes Mr. Trouble

(also known by the title Mr. Trouble).

To tell the history of TFS is to tell the history of the Trouble family.

THOMAS LEATHERWOOD (Mr. Trouble 1762–1789)

Thomas Leatherwood (b. 1740, London, England) decided to turn the wealth he’d earned running several cargo ships between England and the American colonies into something that better served those in need. (The exact reason he did this is unimportant and a matter for the private family archives.)

Born in London, Thomas moved permanently to North America the same year he established TFS, settling first in Boston then moving to New York after the Revolutionary War.

Of course, the business was not known as TFS at that time. Thomas simply took on clients as his services were needed. Thomas and his wife Barbara had only one child, a son named Edward. Thomas remained in charge of the business until his death in 1789.

ROBERT LEATHERWOOD/TROUBLE (Mr. Trouble 1895–1896)

It is remarkable that Robert Leatherwood (b. 1843, New York, NY) is responsible for so much of what the family business is today, given the fact he was head of the family for only one year. In part, his short tenure was due to the fact his father, Byron, held the position for half a century, but mostly it was because of the bad luck suffered on the project in rural Iowa that took his life.

Robert was the first head of the family who kept a diary, something he started at the age of 17 and continued after he became Mr. Trouble at the age of 52. The diary is a tradition that continues through present day. From these diaries we know that Robert proposed the most significant change for the family to his father many years before he was able to make it a reality when he took control. That, of course, was changing the family name from Leatherwood to Trouble.

“We’re in the trouble business,” he wrote. “Trouble is part of who we are. So Trouble should be our name.”

From that point forward, everyone born into the family bore the surname Trouble. But Robert didn’t stop with just changing the family name. He was the first to look at the family’s business as a business, creating The Trouble Company (later changed to Trouble Family Services.)

Finally, he was responsible for moving the family west to St. Louis.

He and his wife Edith had one son, Fredrick.

7

It didn’t dawn on Eric until he woke Friday morning that he’d forgotten to fix his bicycle, so he would have to walk to school. To make matters worse, he’d overslept, meaning his walk would have to be more like a run if he didn’t want to be late again. That’s what he got for staying up late reading the pamphlet from Mr. Trouble.

At least he remembered to stick the tracking discs in his backpack and his pants pocket. The unicorn necklace was another matter. Mr. Trouble had neglected to mention that the unicorn’s eyes were pink rhinestones and that its horn was covered in glitter. He weighed the possibilities of complete embarrassment if one of his friends spotted the necklace in his bag against that of him being in a situation where he needed the Troubles’ help right away. The first seemed more likely so the unicorn stayed home.

He alternated between running fast and running faster as he tried to avoid another tardy. He was a block away when he heard the warning bell. With only two minutes left to get to class, he put his head down and sprinted the rest of the way.

Stopping by his locker to pick up his math book was out of the question. He’d just have to wing it. He hoped he’d be in less trouble for not bringing it than he would be for being late.

The tardy bell started ringing as he opened his classroom door, and ended just after he plopped down at his desk.

He smiled to himself. He’d actually made it. Maybe…maybe things were getting better. He sneaked a peek at Maggie. Her desk was across the aisle and one row back.

“Thought I was going to be late,” he whispered, smiling. “Can’t believe I made it.”

But there was no smile on Maggie’s face. Instead, her lips were pressed tightly together in a straight line. Apparently she was still mad at him. But then she nodded toward the front of the class.

Eric felt a sudden dread that Ms. Lindgren, their homeroom and first-period math teacher, was standing a few feet away, looking down at him. He turned around slowly, hoping she wasn’t going to give him a tardy anyway. But Ms. Lindgren was clear on the other side of the room, going through her briefcase at her desk.

He glanced back at Maggie, holding up his hands and silently asking her “what?” She nodded toward the front again. He turned and looked once more. Nothing there.

She is mad at me, he realized. She just doesn’t want me looking at her. Fine. Whatever.

Another moment later, Ms. Lindgren closed her briefcase and walked over to the lectern.

“Good morning, class,” she said.

There was a chorus of “good morning, Ms. Lindgren.”

“Before I take roll, I have some introductions to make. We have two new students starting with us today.” She smiled at someone sitting up front.

Eric, whose desk was in the third row back, barely paid attention.

“They’re sisters,” Ms. Lindgren said. “Twins, I’m told. Though not identical, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” someone in the front row said.

Eric sat up. The voice sounded very familiar.

“Ladies, do you mind standing up so everyone can see you? Class, these are the Leatherwood sisters.”

A chair scraped back on the tile floor, and a moment later a second chair did the same. The two new girls stood up and turned to the class.

They weren’t Leatherwoods, and they weren’t twins, either.

They were the Trouble sisters.

“This is Fiona,” Ms. Lindgren said. “And this is Keira.”

Both girls gave unenthusiastic waves and sat back down, neither having made eye contact with Eric or Maggie.

Someone tapped Eric on the arm. He looked down and saw a folded piece of paper being held out to him by Jerome Usher, the guy who sat behind him. He took the note and unfolded it in his lap as Ms. Lindgren took roll.

What are they doing here?

The handwriting was Maggie’s.

Eric gave her a quick look over his shoulder, shrugged, then turned back so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

But trouble seemed to be something he wasn’t going to be able to avoid.

“Nancy Long?” Ms. Lindgren said.

“Here.”

“Henry Miner?”

“Here.”

“Eric Morrison?”

“Here,” Eric said.

Ms. Lindgren paused. “Eric, it’s nice of you to actually make it on time today. I assume you’ve actually done your homework, too.”

“Yes…”—oh, no—“…ma’am.”

His math homework. He had done it. In fact, he’d done it during lunch the day before and stuck it in his math book so he wouldn’t forget it. His math book that was still in his locker.

He was able to get through the class by sharing Jerome’s textbook. As soon as the bell rang, he headed quickly for the door so he could catch up to the Trouble sisters.

“Eric?” Ms. Lindgren said.