The Graydons were center stage when Vivian and family arrived. The ballroom was filled with rumors of Dean’s wedding, fancy dresses and wraps in vibrant colors, elaborate hairstyles. The women were resplendent in billowing, regal gowns, demurely peeking from behind their hand-held masks. The gentlemen had their white, puffy wigs set just so. It was Moulin Rouge meets Versailles complete with gondolas floating, acrobats, and jesters. Winston and Dean donned period tuxedos, a red capes and feathered tricorns, finished with Phantom of the Opera masks. In an effort to evade Rosemund, Bart settled for an ornately designed volto. She wasn’t fooled and swept him to the other side of the room seconds after he arrived. She was determined to become a Bellamy come hell or high water!

Though they’d taken care not to upstage Susan, Vivian and Maureen heavily embroidered dresses were two of the most beautiful in the room. Rebecca, dressed is pale yellow and cream, drew attention at every turn—there was no end to people flocking to admire her twenty-four carat Edwardian style oval engagement ring. She made Dean and her aunt and uncle proud, and every woman in the room, envious.


Vivian noticed Winston’s gaze following Andrea around the room. “How are things with you and Andrea?” Vivian asked quietly.

Winston gave her a ‘don’t start’ look, and then said, “Andrea and I are fine. We’re not fighting if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I was just asking.” She waiting until she saw Andrea the hand of a young man, and then added. “She’s very attractive. Every man in the room has his eye on her. She’s quite a catch.”

“Yes she is.”

Vivian raised an eyebrow in Rhonda’s direction before going in for the kill. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Other than the avoidance of it at all cost? No.” Winston turned to his mother. “You have one son getting married. Don’t meddle, mother.” He kissed her cheek and strolled towards Andrea.

Vivian gave Rhonda a gentle wink. The band began to play and couples took the dance floor.

His mother’s echoed his very feelings. Even when she was cross and quarrelsome Winston hadn’t been able to rid her from his thoughts.

“Excuse me,” Winston said generally to the Andrea’s companions, then offered Andrea his arm. “May I have this dance?”

Andrea nodded and took Winston’s arm and excused herself. “Thank you for rescuing me.” She fussed with a stray curl. “It’s all words with these people, isn’t it? Their conversations aren’t expressions of genuine thoughts and feelings but a means of filling certain formalities of social propriety.”

“You’re a tough cookie, Dr. Mitcham.” Winston smirked down at Andrea. “Is that how you feel about me? I’m all words? No substance?”

“No,” She looked up at Winston as they took their dance positions, agonizingly close. “I think you’re extremely arrogant, egotistical and nothing short of a tyrant.”

“Really?” he gave a crooked grin.

“Yep! But you’ve had the most profound effect on me, and I’m determined to like you in spite of your shortcomings.”

“You really want to get fucked tonight, don’t you?”

Andrea responded with a shiver of excitement, and liquid heat between her legs with such intensity it startled her. Words were no longer necessary. I wanted him badly!

“That was a joke. I’m not going to seduce you?”

Well Damn!!
“I wouldn’t mind.” Her voice seemed miles away. So low, Winston didn’t hear her.

“You look nice, by the way.” He observed, trying to avoid gawking at her cleavage, ignoring her ‘please fuck me’ face. They exchanged pleasantries, complimented the Graydons’ choice of entertainment, her drunken midnight stroll and Dean’s impending nuptials. The entire week had been a fairytale, too good to be true. In twenty-four hours, Andrea would return to her medical pursuits and he to his real estate and leisure.

“Thank you. So do you.” Andrea twisted her mouth. “I don’t like your mask. It obscures your eyes.”

“I don’t like yours either.” He leaned close to her cheek and whispered. “I’d like to kiss you.”

Andrea brushed her cheek against his. “Is that all?”

He returned to his dance position, smiling. “In front of a room full of people, watching our every move, yes. Look around. They’re watching us. They’re waiting to see if we touch inappropriately or too long.”

Andrea’s gaze skirted the room. Winston was right; they were under the microscope. “Jesus! Not even Dean’s wedding throws these people off our scent. I feel like screaming ‘We’re just friends!’”

“Ha! You’ve heard about the wedding? What do you think?”

“More power to them.” She shrugged. “Neither wants to marry so they’re on the same page. They’re going into this with their eyes open. Neither is dependant on the other. Nothing’s to say they won’t be happy together.”

“Would you have done it? Would you have settled?”

Andrea found herself under Winston’s intensity. “I wouldn’t have. But that’s not to say I disagree with Rebecca’s choice to do so. I want to marry my best friend, someone who knows and understands me. I want to be able to let my guard down and show my weakness without losing his respect. I don’t want a show marriage…I want…well, without sounding like a bad 80’s ballad, I want to know what love is. I’ve never seen it up close and I certainly haven’t felt it.”

There was a jerk of reaction low in Winston’s belly. He hadn’t expected her reply. Andrea Mitcham was a complex little creature; capable of hell burning fits of rage and romanticized gentleness. “One day you’ll find your Prince Charming.”

“I know I will.” She sighed softly. “I wish he’d hurry up. I’m so horny.” They giggled like teenagers but stopped when they realized the arbiters of propriety were watching.


After making her rounds in the room, Rebecca found herself seated with her future mother in-law for the first times since the announcement. To say that she was nervous was an understatement, however, when Vivian asked to speak to her alone in the drawing room Rebecca almost vomited. Vivian asked Rebecca to have a seat on the sofa as she closed the door for privacy before joining Rebecca on the sofa.

“What are your expectations regarding this marriage, children, and your life in general?” Vivian asked quietly yet clearly.

Only fear kept Rebecca’s jaw from hinging open. She found her mental footing. “I expect that my life will go on as it has. I will have my independence as will Dean. I respect Dean but I’m under no illusion; my marriage is one of convenience and I’m determined to make it work. I’m not gold digger or fortune hunter. Whatever Dean chooses to give doesn’t concern me. I’m perfectly capable of providing for myself. I don’t socialize very often but as Dean’s wife I have a duty to the family and I plan to undertake it as best I can—with my aunt’s and your help, of course. As for children, since they will be the responsibly of Dean and I, the decision to have them rest with us, no one else.” Rebecca paused, then added a polite, “Ma’am.”

“Beneath the fluff, Goldilocks, you have balls.” Vivian’s lip slowly curled to a smile. “You will need them. Being married to Dean isn’t going to be a walk in the park. But you’ll have my support.” She marveled at Rebecca’s innocence. “You’re young and have a lot to learn. Whatever you do, never show your emotions in public, and be mindful of your surroundings. You’re Mrs. Dean Bellamy—all eyes are on you, my dear.”

“In private?”

“In private, with the family, you can be yourself.” Vivian laughed aloud. “We’re just like everyone else. You should hear our conversations! Well, now that you’re family, you will.”

Over the next hour, Vivian eased Rebecca’s worries and answered her questions. She was willfully stepping into the line of fire. But with proper guidance, she’d survive.

Getting her pass Sadie was an entirely different story. Breakfast the next morning would tell.

                                                              *****

It was after 2am when Winston and Andrea bid everyone a goodnight and went upstairs to his room. They kicked off their shoes and mask and collapsed in bed fully clothed. Something was happening. Something neither expected nor planned. They were actually comfortable with one another without sex entering the equation. Surprising was the contentment they felt in the midst of confusion of the past week; the safety and security they felt in each others arms.

“Tell me we don’t have to go home,” he whispered.

“We don’t have to go home. We can stay here forever.”

“I’ll bring you breakfast in bed,” he offered.

“Liar.”

“I’ll have someone bring us breakfast in bed.” He rolled over on his side, looking down at Andrea. “I wish we could stay here. Now that you aren’t hell bent on humiliating me, I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

Winston shook his head and pecked her lips. His rested his forehead on hers. “I would like us to keep in touch. And seeing as neither of us have a talent for making friends, it’s probably best we do.” His eyes burned a path down her neck to the tops of her soft breasts.

Andrea kicked herself for not taking off her goddamn dress before crawling in bed. It was torture! God, if he didn’t do something soon, she’d take matters into her own hands, literally!

Gently he licked her lower lip. “We’ll write to each other. I want to hear how things are going. How many hearts you’ve broken.”

“We’re a bit too old to be pen pals but I get it.” Andrea laughed. “You got a deal. I want to hear every trivial detail of your life. Promise?”

“Yes ma’am.” Before their lips touched, there was a knock at the door. Winston answered and Sadie marched in, pissed with her friends and babbling about how she’d tried to crash with Dean and Rebecca but they were in the middle of making babies so they sent her to Winston.

“Didn’t know you had company.” Sadie threw back the covers and crawled in bed beside Andrea. “Hi!”

“Hello?” Andrea looked at Winston standing beside the bed, puzzled.

“What?” Sadie looked Winston up and down. “You can wipe that look off your face because I’m not leaving.” She snatched one of Andrea’s pillows and pulled the covers to her chin. “Goodnight.”

Winston shook his head and Andrea rolled from the bed. It wasn’t worth fighting. She gathered her belongings and Winston walked her to the door and apologized for the interruption. They stood for a moment waiting for the other to say something, to do something. Was this really how they were going to end? Winston reached down towards Andrea as if to touch her face. But he hesitated a few inches away. He changed his mind and draw back.

“Sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize.” Andrea placed her hand flat on his chest then pulled it away quickly. “It’s best we didn’t…you know…go there so fast. We’re friends, right?”

Winston coughed. “Yeah…Um, we shouldn’t complicate things…not now with Dean getting married and Sadie…well, you know.” They struggled to make small talk, hanging on each others words. Winston nodded as one of the guests past.

“Oh, sure! That would be a mistake. You’re right.” She swallowed. “Well, I’d better go before we start another scandal.” Andrea joked. “We’ll be in touch?”

“Certainly. You’re staying for breakfast?”

“Yeah, um, we leave shortly afterwards.” She bit her lower lip, waiting for Winston to kiss her.. “See you in the morning, pal!” she started down the hall.

“Goodnight, Andrea.” Winston closed the door and went to bed.

A small smile touched their lips. Whatever happened, they’d done the right thing by walking away. Some things shouldn’t be rushed.

                                                                 *****

The dining hall was filled to capacity with guests silently waiting to see who was invited to the Bellamy wedding. Trudy and Rhonda, taking her cue from Vivian, took care to avoid direct eye contact lest this natural occurrence be misinterpreted as amity. Sadie, Dean, and Rebecca were having breakfast in their rooms as were Maureen and Susan and Bart and Rosemund. Yes, Rosemund finally score her a Bellamy; sadly she didn’t realize Bart had absolutely no intention on keeping her.

Winston spent the morning walking around the house, remembering his days there as a child running barefoot up and down the expansive galleries and hallway. The house still felt the same, smelled the same. It was as if the house was a living, breathing backdrop against which the swirl of its occupants lived their lives. They rustling in and out—married, divorced—gave birth, and died. But the house remained the same. It was passed from one heir to another, each making improvement here and there but each preserved the bones for the next generation. In a world where anything could be had for the right price, this monstrous house and the servants who maintained its opulence, provided stability and the comfort of the familial wagon circle where hope and faith were restored.

Winston made the trip in support of his mother, not realizing how emotional depleted he’d become. Andrea opened his eyes, and gave him someone to in which he could confide. And he’d given her the same. In their odd, social inept way they’d found themselves….

….now it was over…and real life began.


Winston, wearing dark wash jeans and a sage green button pushed up to the elbow, descended the grand staircase as the Mitchams were preparing to leave. Andrea bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. It was kind of cute that he’d come to see her off. This didn’t go unnoticed by Hamilton. It seemed his wife’s scheming worked after all.

“I was wondering where you were.” Andrea kissed Winston on both cheeks

“Sorry I went for a walk, and lost track of time.” He kissed Andrea then shook Hamilton’s hand. He looked around at their luggage. “You’re all set? Should I call for Isaac?”

“No, no. He’s outside with my mom.” She pointed over her should. There was a brief pause while their sorted through the mangled wilderness of their thoughts. Then Andrea broke the spell. “I’ve written you.”

“Really? Already?” Winston’s nose wrinkled in surprise.

“I couldn’t sleep last night so I figured I’d beat you to the punch. I sent it to your place in Chicago. Your mother gave the address.”

“Great! I’ll be there for a while. Sadie will be staying with Dean and Rebecca. I thought it might be a good idea for me to grow some roots—living between homes is exhausting.” Another pause. He couldn’t think of anything else to say except goodbye. “Please. Don’t let me keep you. I just wanted to say…farewell.”

Hamilton observed their exchange with concern for Andrea’s happiness. Winston didn’t seem as enamored with Andrea as she was with him.

“I’ll walk you out.” Winston reached for one of her bags; Andrea slapped his hand away.

“I’ll manage.” Second tick by, hoping he’d say something to keep her there a little longer. Crestfallen she said happily. “Well, that’s my ride. I’ll…um, you know…we’ll write.” She grabbed a small carryon as Winston shook her father’s hand.

“Of course.” The gossip hounds were closing in. Winston had to cut their goodbye short. Another social polite kiss and Andrea was gone. He stood there for awhile, bidding his feet to move.

In their limo, Rhonda immediately called her voicemail and began jotting in her notebook. Hamilton watched Andrea staring thoughtlessly out the window.

“When was the last time you went out on a date?” Hamilton asked Andrea.

This wasn’t a conversation Andrea wanted to have, but short of throwing herself out of the car there was no way to avoid it. “Over a year.” She didn’t take her eyes from the window. “Why?”

“Andrea, you seem lonely.” Hamilton spoke fatherly, gently.

“I’m not. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” Hamilton searched for his words. “Look, I like Winston but he’s impassive.”

“People say the same thing about me. You don’t know him.”

“Neither do you.” Hamilton said. “Less than a week ago you hated him. Now you claim to know him?”

“I know him because I know myself.”

It’s was hopeless. Arguing with Andrea was never the answer. “I wish you’d find someone worthy of you.”

Andrea turned to Hamilton. “You don’t think Winston is worthy?”

“I don’t think he has feelings for you. If he does, he has a funny way of showing it.” He could tell Andrea was closing down emotionally. He’d better get to the point. “I worry about you. I’m your father and it’s my right to worry.”

Andrea cracked a smile. “Thanks.”