While Dean spoke with Rebecca, Bart was given the arduous task of breaking the news to Vivian and his mother. Like any mother whose son had just eloped, the news came as a gut punch. However, after examining entail, she could find no fault and gave her consent. In stark contrast, Maureen howled and cried—shouted and yelled at the miscarriage of yoking her blood with that of a tradesmans' niece. A swift smack and skillfully worded threat from Vivian drew a line under that nonsense.

“Where are Emerson and Trudy?” Vivian asked Bart.

He checked his watch. It was quarter after one. “They’re with their dressers.”

“I have to talk to them before the ball.” She left Bart and Maureen in a daze and went to the Lockwoods room where they too looked out of sorts. “Hi! So we’re going to be in-laws.” Vivian invited herself in, sat on the sofa, and gesture for them to sit as well. “You’ve signed the entail; am I to assume it’s met your approval?”

“We’re pleased.” Emerson grinned, and then proceeded cautiously. “You realize this union has no monetary benefit to either family. Their holdings are completely separate.”

“Their marriage is strictly for show.” Trudy added.

“I know and I’m fine with that.” Vivian nodded. “Dean doesn’t know what love is and I doubt he ever will. But he has a firm grasp of what’s expected of him as a Bellamy.” She leaned forward. “You’ll never have to worry about Rebecca. She’s in safe hands.”

“We thought you’d be furious about the money or lack thereof.” Trudy’s whole body sagged with relief. “For a while I feared you’d blame us. Or assumed we’d concocted a scheme to trap Dean.”

“Scheme?” Vivian chuckled. “The thought never crossed my mind. Besides, Dean wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to do.” She stood, preparing to leave. “Money is nothing. My children’s happiness is what matters. Dean has taken this route. He wouldn’t have done it if he were uncertain.” She turned just shy of the door. “You know, things are looking up We have a wedding to plan. And I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces! Trudy, what to you say? Should we leak the news before the ball and really give them something to talk about?” Vivian raised her eyebrow and smiled wickedly.

An hour later, the house was abuzz. Sadie, upon hearing the news, went through the roof with jealousy. Not a single glass in Dean’s suite went unbroken. Isaac and the other footmen had one hell of a time cleaning up her mess. At this point Isaac was sure madness ran rabid in their family!

                                                                   *****

Rhonda called out to Andrea as she entered her suite. When she didn’t answer, Rhonda went into her bedroom where Winston and Andrea lay fully clothed and sound asleep. She hated to wake them; however it was time to prepare for the ball. It would take at least an hour to bedazzle their hair alone.

“Andrea.” Rhonda coughed, causing Winston to spring up from the bed.

“Fuck, I guess knocking is out of the question.” Andrea lifted her head, saw her mother, and then collapsed again. “What time is it?”

“After three.” Rhonda threw open the shades. The grey overcast shined little light in the room.

“Um…Dr. Mitcham…yeah, um, Rhonda…” Winston muttered. “Andrea and I didn’t have sex or anything…just in case you were wondering.”

“I know.” Rhonda ushered the army of staff into Andrea’s dressing area. “Even if you had, that’s none of my business. I’ll see you downstairs, Winston.” She smiled, giving him his cue to leave. “Andrea, don’t be long.” She retreated into the dressing area.

“I should go.” Winston slipped into his shoes and kissed Andrea on the forehead and left.

Andrea sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the rejection letter sitting on the nightstand. She closed her eyes and slow, schoolgirl smile curved her lips. Winston was right; her failure wasn’t the end. It was the beginning—it was her first step out of her father’s shadow. What started as a thunderstorm of doubt and self-pity had turned into a soft drizzling rain of rebirth. The clouds still hung above, but somehow they weren’t so threatening. And if she kept moving, sooner or later sunlight would find her—she wasn’t chasing it! 


                                                                    *****

Back in his room, Winston dodged flying glassware. Sadie was on the rampage again as was Isaac and his clean up crew. Dean ducked just before the crystal picture frame she flung hit the wall behind him, which gave Winston and Bart time to grab and pin her to the floor, stomach down.

“What the hell!” Winston barked looking up and Dean.

“Oh!” he replied lightly. “She hasn’t told you?”

“I came back to my room and she was destroying the place!” He secured Sadie’s shoulders as she kicked wildly shouting traitor. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m getting married.”

“That’s bullshit!” Winston’s laugh came from his gut. “You’re so not getting married.”

“Yeah, he is. He’s marrying Rebecca next weekend at Hyde Park.” Bart chuckled, still holding Sadie. “We’re groomsmen.”

“What?” Winston registered nothing but shock. “What did mother say? She didn’t approve, right?”

“I don’t have a problem with arrangement.” Vivian stepped over shards on broken glass, shooing Isaac Bart from the room. She helped Sadie up from the floor. “Sit.” She ordered, calmly. Sadie sat on Dean’s lap. “Dean has my blessing to marry Rebecca, and that’s an end to the discussion.” She blew a long breath, looking at Dean. He seemed at peace and that was all the confirmation Vivian needed. Whether she agreed with the manner in which he chose to tell her, the facts were the facts: Dean was an adult. “Sadie, what’s wrong?”

“He’s leaving me.” Sadie’s chest fell. “First Daddy, now him. No one warned me—everything just happens and I’m expected to be okay with it. Well, I am not okay. I can’t bring my dad back. But I don’t wanna lose my brothers. I want something to stay the same.” She swatted Dean’s hand away from her face when he tried to dry her cheek. “I know, we haven’t lived together in years but…you come home sometimes…” she swallowed. “…I don’t want her to take you away. Not yet.”

In the hustle and bustle of events, they’d forgotten Sadie. She’d found her father dead. She always played the peacemaker. She rarely stepped out of line, yet she’d gotten her ass ripped even though she’d acted responsible by forsaking her friends. And now her brother, whom she worshiped, hadn’t given her feelings a second thought—he didn’t care. No one cared.

“I’m sorry. We’ve been assholes, haven’t we?” If Dean could’ve summoned tears he would’ve. Tears simply weren’t in his arsenal. Instead, he spoke from his heart. “Rebecca isn’t taking me away from you. No one could. You’re my sister and you come first.” He brushed back her matted hair. “Do you want to come live with us for a while? Rebecca could use the company and you can show her the ropes.”

“Where would we live?” Sadie looked at Dean cautiously. “Not in New York or LA. Or France. Or Florida. We can stay in Chicago with Winston.”

Everyone looked at Winston. Oh fuck! How’d I get into this, he thought, I’m the good brother! “Sure, you’re welcome to use my place until you find you own.” Think fast! Think fast! “Or you can stay at mother’s place on the North Shore.”

“I have a house on the North Shore?” Vivian said, puzzled.

“I lived there for awhile. Trust me, you have a place.”

She shrugged. “Dean, you’re welcome to it.”

Dean accepted her offer, and they spent the next hour hammering out Sadie’s school details and travel. This time, they involved her in the discussion.

As she left, Dean stopped his mother and asked, “Are you really alright with me getting married? You understand why I didn’t tell you first?”

Vivian looked at Dean proudly and answered with a simple ‘yes’ and left. In truth, Vivian understood there was little she could’ve done to prevent the marriage even if she’d disapproved and that he needed to cement himself in the Lockwoods eyes as more than a puppet to his mother. Launching a full scale war against Dean would’ve amount to social-suicide. And doing so within months of her husband’s death would’ve sent the family into chaos and weakened her position. Her decision to support Dean and Rebecca was partially selfish but mostly altruistic. His happiness took precedence…as it always had.

Dean stayed behind, attempting unsuccessfully to needle Winston’s whereabouts from him. It was useless to prod Winston. His mouth, like his conscious, was sealed behind a steel door. No one ever breached his ramparts.

“What do you think?” Dean asked from the door jam as Winston laid out his shaving supplies on the bathroom counter.

“I think you’re a brilliant fool.” Winston grinned at Dean in the mirror. “What made you do it? It was the sex, wasn’t it?”

Dean took a deep breath and folded his arms across him chest. “Don’t get me wrong; the sex is amazing—top shelf even. More than that, I think I’ve found someone who gets me…because she is me. And whether or not this will always be the case is yet to be decided, people change. Right now, we both serve a purpose.”

Winston looked at Dean, really stopped and looked at him. “You don’t love her at all, do you?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t love her. I respect her. I like her. Sometimes I genuinely enjoy her company. But I don’t love her anymore than she loves me.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

“Fuck yeah!” Dean laughed. “Did you think the sex was so great that it’d magically changed me into a proper person?! You overestimate the power of pussy. There’s no way a few days of sex would change me. This is business.”

“My bad.” Winston hugged his brother, and then went to start the shower. “You never change.”

“Wait,” Dean frowned. “Do we have a place on the North Shore?”

“We will after I buy it.” Winston gave a wide dimpled smile. “We’ll call it a wedding gift.”

Family: A maneuvering business.


                                                                   *****

“Uumm, I was thinking something more Marie Antoinette and less Bride of Frankenstein.” Andrea frowned at the three feet high, gem incrusted erection protruding from her head.

“Shorter, then? Less sparkle? More…” The stylist took a dramatic French pause. “…prom night! A soft side swept bang. A half updo, loose of course, the back will be curled and left hanging.” She smiled at Andrea and asked, “You like then? Your columbina will not touch your hair?” she pointed at Andrea’s elegantly feathered mask hanging beside her dark red ball gown, black cape and gloves.

“If you can knock it out in thirty minutes, I’m good.” She flinched as her makeup artist applied her false eyelashes.

Rhonda sat watching Andrea while her stylist secured pin curls to her French twist. Comfort was far more important than the costume competition. Andrea, it seemed, was showing a particular interest, which tickled Rhonda to no end. Though she’d never admit it, she was primping for Winston. Rhonda liked Winston. He was a gentleman and his levelheaded approach to life would balance Andrea’s fiery personality all together. But she knew her daughter well. If pushed Andrea would run the opposite direction, and taking into consideration Vivian’s assertions about Winston, she too was threading on thin ice. If their months of plotting to join Winston and Andrea were to come to fruition, they’d have to seemingly stay out of the matter. Still, there was very little time; they’d be leaving the next day.

“Winston is handsome, don’t you think?”

“We’re not sleeping together.” Andrea rolled her eyes in Rhonda’s direction.

“I didn’t say you were.” Rhonda threw her hand up innocently, and then tip-toed farther. “If you were, your dad and I wouldn’t have a problem with it. I mean, you’re an adult, you can think for yourself…all I mean is Winston’s a good catch and he seems to like you.”

“I’m happy the way things are.”

“Are you?”

Andrea allowed the stylist and makeup artist to finish their work and leave before answering wanly. “I’m scared. I’ve never been in love—I’ve been in like—obsession, even—but not love. I don’t know how love works. I’ve never seen a happy relationship or marriage; only miserable ones, and that freaks me out. I don’t know.” She sighed. “Maybe I have a more pragmatic view of marriage and relationships. I can’t think of anything worse than being with the wrong person.”

“Your father and I are happy.”

Andrea’s eye flew to Rhonda. “Is that why you were sleeping with Dean?” She continued though Rhonda was shocked. “I’ve known about it for sometime. Don’t worry, dad doesn’t know. I don’t blame you. You don’t have to explain. You were lonely and Dean was attentive.” She worded her next question carefully. “Can I ask you something? Did you love Dean?”

“In the beginning, no. Then as I got know him, I think I did. I never would’ve left your dad but…my heart was in two places for a long time. In fact, I was on the verge of telling Dean I was married when he found out. He never gave me a chance to explain; he left. I hurt him…I didn’t mean to but I did…and I’m sorry.”

“You should tell him. Not me.” Andrea smiled. Her faith in her mother restored. “Look, this isn’t the time and place for a mother/daughter heart to heart. Just know that your secret is safe and if you ever want to talk, I’m all ears.” She snorted.

“What?” Rhonda blushed.

“You’re kinda badass now. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”