Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 16
This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.
The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move.
This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023
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Chapter 16--Yule Tidings
The steady thrum of the jet relaxed Chris after the week in Los Angeles. It was also nice that the flight was direct to London, which added the ability to relax. The seats on Upper Class on British Air were more than comfortable, they made into beds. This meant Chris and Tom were across an aisle from each other and difficult to talk to each other. After supper, Tom and Chris wandered back to the lounge where they chatted with several people while having drinks. Chris was ready to sleep
His thoughts drifted. The LBGT party was more fun than expected. He met several out actors, outrageous drag queens, and a passel of rainbow people. The attendees were diverse in age, ethnicity, income, politics, religion, and sexual identification. Chris could think of no minority group that reached across all segments of society. He did not feel alone. With these musing, he fell asleep.
"Chris, time to wake," Tom was nudging him. "We are about three hours away from landing. Don't want you groggy once we are on the ground and awake all night."
"What time will we land?"
"We will be landing at about 2:30 PM local time." Tom provided.
Chris moaned, but sat up. He grabbed his toiletry bag from under the seat and went to the restroom to freshen up. Returning, he felt better as coffee and a light breakfast was served.
"Would you like to go over your schedules and prepare for your meetings?" Owen joined them, also rested from his slumbers. Both Tom and Chris groaned but nodded yes. They spent the next three hours chatting, discussing business, and eating the snacks and After two glasses of wine, Chris cut himself off.
Even if it was a rainy in London, it was good to have feet on the ground after an over ten-hour flight,. The airline provided a chauffeured service to their hotel, which again was appreciated. On the ride to the hotel Chris commented. "We are racking up points fast; we should have stock in the airline."
Tom patted his arm, "We do have stock, According to Grandda, we have about 100,000 shares, although it is not traded. I'll know more when I meet with the accountant." Chris froze not knowing what to say. "The airline is losing money, over £200 million pounds, so don't plan your retirement on the income." Tom laughed. They checked into the hotel: Chris contacted Clyde to confirm his evening meeting, while Tom contacted his evening meeting, both at the same restaurant across from the hotel.
"Why are you having two separate meetings?" Owen asked. "Chris you are hiring a killer photographer; Tom you are meeting with a prominent fashion designer. Show the fashion designer the talent you are hiring. Two birds, one stone."
Chris hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Idiots. Thanks Owen. You are a gem."
"Obviously, I am. That's why you hired me."
The meeting went better than expected. Clyde was as charming as he was talented. He was also a helium balloon at being hired immediately at a salary three times what he made at Harrods.
Sunday, Chris told Tom and Owen that he had a special treat. Through Ariel they had tickets to the play "Hangmen". Owen had been to a couple of plays on class trips, but never a contemporary play. Owen buzzed all through supper on the play and how bloody brilliant it was. Chris had to agree, although Tom was less convinced because it was a little too dark. But the evening did accomplish one important thing--got them away from work for one day.
The next day Clyde turned in his notice at Harrods, who immediately severed his employment, without prejudice. Tom met with the advertising director at Harrods while Clyde was finishing termination paperwork. Chris and Owen were setting a meeting with a real estate broker for the next day because the afternoon was filled by meeting with Mrs. Bascomb, the solicitor. Both Tom and Chris would need to be added to accounts, business interests, and sundry organizations the Greenwoods support. It would be the first time Tom and Chris would meet the accountant, Mr. Augustus Woodward. Tom requested that Owen attend as an observer.
Mrs. Bascomb's secretary took Tom, Chris, and Owen to a heavy walnut paneled conference room with one wall of lancet windows. "If you gentlemen would make yourselves comfortable Mrs. Bascomb and Mr. Woodward will be in shortly, they are still making copies of documents. I will be bringing in tea, unless you would like something else." She looked at Chris, an obvious American. Chris politely requested tea with milk. She cocked her head in surprise. "Very good sirs. I will also bring victuals with the tea."
"Chris, you are mean." Tom laughed, "You could have perpetuated her image of boorish Americans and ordered coffee."
"I like tea." Chris casually replied. "I was thinking that I might need British citizenship if we are to have management of Thistledown."
"Yes, Chris, that is an excellent idea. I was going to suggest it, but great minds." Mrs. Bascomb entered followed by a clerk with an arm load of folders, which he gratefully dropped on the table.
"My Tom, you are looking fit. I have not seen you in over five years." The man that spoke looked like he walked out of a Dickens novel--Mr. Pickwick. He was short, stout, and balding; his face was round, dimpled and perpetually flushed. He turned to Chris. "You must be the remarkable young man that has tamed this scallywag and reinvigorated his Lordship. I and me Mrs. are in your debt."
Chris stood and shook his hand. "Yes, Tom was a handful when I first met him, but he soon found out who had the whip."
Mr. Woodward laughed as he sat. "Do you mind if we go by first names. I'm Augustus, now no jokes. Gusty during my Oxford days." He shuffled through papers. "Do you want to start or me, Hortie?"
"I think I will, but jump in as needed, Augustus," She looked at Owen like he was a displaced fern. "And who is this third gentleman in the room." Tom explained; she was not happy but did not ask Owen to leave. "First gentlemen, since you are legally married in the States and will be here too, Chris have you applied to change your last name to Greenwood?" Chris looked at Tom. They had not discussed this.
"Honestly, Hortie," She flinched when Tom used her nickname, "We have not discussed this. Chris has a very successful career that changing his last name may damage his branding." Tom knew that most of the fashion houses were only referring to Chris by his first name, but Hortie was being snobbish.
"I understand that, but as heir to the Greenwood estate, it is expected that your spouse should share your last name."
Tom smiled at Hortie, no teeth showing. "Yes, I must also assume that they expected my spouse to also be a woman. And you know how women like to take the man's last name. It makes them feel owned." Chris poked Tom in the thigh. Hortie squirmed a little in her seat. Augustus sat silently grinning.
"My suggestion," Chris spoke to ease the tension, "is to hyphenate our names Wentworth-Greenwood. That has been a long-standing tradition--George Spencer-Churchill is one example or Mountbatten-Windsor, the royal family."
She was not happy, but accepted the compromise. She pulled a stack of papers. "These are deeds to various properties, business, and chattel to which your name, Tom, has been added." She shoved the papers at Tom. "Look them over and then sign where indicated." She pulled out another substantial document. "This is a prenuptial, but since you are already married, it is an agreement on how assets will be divided in the event of a divorce. I know that newlyweds never think of divorce until twenty years later and the blush has turned ashen. It is a precaution. Since you are unable to bear children Chris, we do not need to discuss any custody issues."
"Mrs. Bascomb, Tom and I have every intention of having children together."
"Oh, I hope you do. Children are a blessing, but any children will be of Tom's issue and unfortunately not yours."
Now Tom poked Chris in the thigh. "Oh, my dear woman, you are so misinformed about how Tom and I are planning to procreate. But I assure you madam that any issue of Tom's will be mine as well. We will contribute equally to the creation of our children." Mrs. Bascomb stared at Chris. "You do not understand that I was born with a severe birth defect that left me without a penis or testicles. By the grace of the Almighty, I can have it surgically repaired, which is scheduled for next year. But back to the issue of our children. The birth defect left me with fully functioning ovaries. I have frozen about two dozen viable eggs that Tom will impregnate. Therefore, any children will be our children."
Mrs. Bascomb did know what to say and took the better part of valor and said nothing. "That is wonderful then, for both of you." Augustus was slowly sipping his tea hiding his laugh. "You do need to look over the document and decide on any changes." She slid the remainder of the papers over toward Chris and Tom. "Have a look at these, sign where indicated and return them to me."
Chris poured himself and Tom more tea. Carefully selecting a sandwich, he took a bite. "This is delicious."
"Now it is my turn." Augustus said as he grabbed a biscuit and dunked it in his tea. "First, I want to say how happy it is to see both of you together. You make a perfect couple. I have been his Lordship's accountant and financial advisor for over thirty years. And if I do say so myself, the portfolio has flourished under the umbrella company of Greenwood Holdings, PUC, a private unlimited company." He handed Tom a paper. "This is a list of companies that Greenwood PUC has shares in." Tom looked over and handed it to Chris. "There is Thistledown, RTM, which manages the estate, and about seventy-five other companies that are independent from Greenwood Holdings, or Greenwood Holding has shares in. You and Chris are managing directors. The next page is the Greenwood Trust, CIC, which is the charitable arm of Greenwood PUC." Augustus sat back as Tom glanced over the documents. "Next are documents for signing that give you access to Greenwood Holdings, PUC accounts: this includes checking and savings accounts. I am told, Chris, that your Dad is an accountant too, so he can help you with the figures." Chris nodded yes. "The second and third pages give you access to your personal accounts and household account." He slid the pages over. "Now as far as income as heir, Tom. You have an annual income of £100,000. Chris, you as consort have £50,000. You also have a personal household budget to pay for travel and personal servants. Owen's salary would come out of that budget." Augustus sat back smiling at the two boys. "To put it mildly, you are both very well off. Now if you sign those last two pages, I can give you your cards. The limit on each card is £25,000. I have a final card for Owen to use as needed to function as your personal assistant. His limit is £15,000." Augustus handed the three Barclay cards to Tom, who handed one to Chris. Everything was signed and returned to Augustus. "Now how about I take the three of you to supper? My treat. Hortie want to join us?" She declined. Supper was delightful. Augustus was full of salacious stories about Grandda.
Tuesday they spent with realtors looking at office space. Clyde joined them so he could scope photography needs. Most of the retail property was extremely expensive and did not have the right vibe. Owen suggested looking at old homes. By midafternoon, they found the perfect place, at least by Chris's standards: over 15,000 sq ft, three stories with basement and attic, large backyard garden with a large carriage house, space for off street parking, and in need of renovation, so it could be remodeled to suit their needs. It was away from central London, but convenient to the airport. The price was $15 million, but renting office space with the same square footage would be almost $400,000 a month without the Victorian charm. Stu and Helga would look at the place when they came over in a couple of weeks.
They finished the day by Christmas shopping in the shops around their hotel. Tom joked that they would need a second car just to carry Chris's purchases. Chris shot back that all of the items were gifts and being shipped home directly from the store. He then stuck his tongue out at Tom, which caused Owen to almost pee his pants, his new skinny, sexy jeans that had him ogled by many a handsome lads.
The three arrived at Thistledown the next day to be greeted by Clarke and Dink, who removed luggage from the boot and then took their rented car to park. "Welcome home, Sirs" Clark said with a genuine smile; the first Chris had ever seen on the man. "Your rooms are prepared. I will have Petey and Lulu assist with your bags. Lunch will be in thirty minutes in his Lordships parlor. His Lordship will be joining you." Clarke opened the main door to the house.
The entryway was festooned with garland, red ribbons, and wreaths along the cornices and along the stair rails. "This is beautiful." Chris gushed as he looked around. "Does it always look this festive?"
Clarke smiled again. "No Sir, his Lordship usually never decorates for any holiday, but this year he was energized and demanded the house look grand for the season and the nuptials. Mary, Lulu, and Hagan, under my direction, took his desire very seriously. I will relay to the staff that you are pleased. Chris, after lunch, Mavis would like your input on the holiday meals."
"I will be most happy to assist her." Chris followed Tom and Clarke up the stairs, down the hallway, all decorated for the season. Clarke opened the doorway to their suite. A fire was blazing in the fireplace. A large wreath hung over it. The formal painting of a past lord was gone. A ten-foot Christmas tree, lit and decorated, stood between the fireplace and the windows.
"There is hot cocoa on the sideboard." Clarke said, gesturing to the antique cocoa pot and cups on the sideboard. "It should warm you on this nippy day." He walked toward the door. "I will return shortly to escort you to his Lordship." He bowed his head crisply and left.
Tom went to pour some cocoa while Chris snuggled into a chair by the fireplace, staring at the tree. "Tom, I'm glad we are here for Christmas. I suspect that otherwise the house would be bleak and dreary."
Tom handed Chris the delicate fluted cup and saucer with hand painted wildflowers. The aroma was a chocolate cloud; one sip and nirvana. "This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had." Chris breathed in that aroma again before taking a second sip.
"One of Mavis's specialties." Tom caught in a memory. "She always had it for me before I went to bed, even though it was summer. It always made me feel special here, because Grandda was not a warm fuzzy person."
"No, he was a veritable cactus of affection. How did you ever start spending summers here?"
"Did it to myself. I was thirteen, told my parents I was going to England to see my Grandda. I sent him a letter stating when I would arrive and expected to be picked up at the airport. To everybody's surprise he replied that I would be met by Clarke." Tom looked at Chris as he swirled the cocoa in his mouth. "Grandda was also surprised when I showed up. Clarke was the one that replied and invited me. Since I inherited the Greenwood trait, I was expected to return each summer. The staff was always welcoming. I was a mischievous teen who brought life into the sad old house. Despite Grandda's reserve, I did enjoy my summers here. Lester was a fun accomplice."
Chris set his cup down as Owen came into the sitting room. "Chris, Tom, I have laid out a change of clothes before you have lunch with his Lordship."
"There's hot cocoa on the sideboard," Chris said as he stood and headed toward the bedroom. Owen was pouring himself a cup before Chris finished talking. Owen was changing for the better, Chris mused.
Grandda sat in chair studying the apple crisp on his plate. "Boys, you have disturbed Mrs. Bascomb." He chuckled. "She needs to be disturbed--her ass is so tight I'm sure she shits legal briefs. She is not happy that you and Chris are married. Not in any homophobic way, but as to carrying on the British traditions."
"Outside of us being married, us being fags seems very British."
"Like I said Tom, she does not care that you and Chris are a couple, but she has other objections. First, Chris is an American. Second, Chris is not changing his name to Greenwood. Third, you will not have children of your loins." Grandda started to laugh loudly. "When you told her Chris that you planned to both be parents, you pushed her over the edge. She is a sharp solicitor, but like I said narrow minded. No, not narrow minded, narrow visioned, unable to see outside of the path she has trod for decades."
"I did not mean to cause an existential crisis," Chris shot in, "but at the same time I will not allow Tom or me to be demeaned, belittled or patronized."
"That is precisely why I approve of your marriage. You, Tom, and the young royals are what this country needs. Tradition is fine, but it should not stifle people. I look at you two, envious that I was not born in the same age as you. I could have married the man I loved. Not that I didn't love and appreciate your grandma Tom. She was a remarkable woman, as trapped as me in the a socially rigid society. Look at this place, Thistledown. I have servants who have dedicated their life to serving me and my family. They have done it for generations. Take Clarke, granted this place would fall apart without him, especially the last many years as I withdrew from life. He has the skills to be a CEO of any company, but he is here as my butler, manservant, valet, or whatever else you want to call him. He stays here because he sees it as some sort of sacred obligation." Grandda downed the last of his wine.
"Is Clarke happy here?" Chris asked.
"Hell if I know. It would be improper for me to ask. That is the main reason why I wanted Petey to be with you." Grandda stabbed his apple crisp and shoved it away. "How is he doing?"
"He is doing remarkably well." Tom poured himself and Chris coffee from the carafe on the table. "We have given him the title of Personal Assistant because we want him to feel as an employee with a job description and not a servant at our beck and call. We have insisted that he call us by our first names when we are not in business mode. He has adjusted to that very well."
"And," Chris contributed, "we do not call him Petey. He thought it was too servile for his position. He now goes by his middle name Owen. I was leery at first at having a personal assistant, but he is a god send. He has proved himself flexible, resourceful, pushy, and intelligent. Besides he is funny and a pleasure to have around."
"Yes, Clarke did mention that he was bossy about your luggage. He even overrode Clarke's instructions for when lunch would be. He is a good lad, and I want to see him grow beyond these few acres."
"He needs to finish his education and attend college." Tom said. "Chris and I are willing to help with that. He is too smart to not further it."
Grandda nodded approval. "Has he got laid yet?"
"No, not yet. At least I don't think so." Chris looked at Tom. "Not that he has said, although we have been so busy that he has had little time to shag someone."
"Sirs," Mary entered the room. "May I take your dishes." Grandda nodded yes. Mary quickly and efficiently gathered everything up and left the room.
"Sir,"
"Now Chris, no sirs with you. Grandda is what my grandson should call me."
"Grandda, if you will excuse me. I promised to meet Mavis in the kitchen to assist in planning meals."
"Go, go. Don't want to disappoint Mavis. She thinks you're the cream at the top of the bottle. She'd lick you dry if she could." Chris stood to leave. "Tom, would you spend some time with me?" Tom bowed agreement to his Grandda. He and Grandda moved to plush chairs to sip a sherry and discuss Thistledown.
When Chris got to the kitchen, Mavis had everything under control, as he expected. It was gossip time.
"Laddy, it been a giraffe's neck since we have had so much company. And I'm lov'n it. Haven't pulled out the old Minton in decades along with the sterling and Waterford. Plans are for formal Christmas eve. Seven courses, staff in full livery, wines paired for a feast fit for the Queen. Christmas day, a full buffet since there will be more people here and the same for the reception after y're nups. Planning maybe two/three hundred people for the reception."
"Three hundred." Chris didn't where they were all coming from.
"Yes, minimum, the whole surrounding village will attend, as will most of the Greenwood clan. You must understand that Tom is the heir and you are his consort. Between you, you control much of the family wealth, not that most have not done well on their own."
Chris leaned back into his chair fighting off a panic attack. "I did not realize. Tom never told me, and my family is small."
"Two blokes getting hitched is causing all sorts of speculation. Then both you and Tom are Americans, scandalous. The cork out of the bottle is Tom is only twenty and heir. Mind you, I think he is the perfect choice and you as a couple are strong and will do well for the family. But I'll be mighty grand watching."
"Who do I have to win over first?"
"You already have Aunt Mary; she is the custodian of the family legacy. You're being from the Italian Crusader branch, means a lot to her. Cedrick and Ariel have your back. I'd watch out for Richard Farfield. He is Quent's cousin. Don't like him. He's dodgy."
"I think I met his son Braxton. Not impressed."
"Same rotten apple barrel."
"Hi Mavis." Tom walked over and kissed Chris on the forehead. "Need to steal my husband. Father Hughes is here to talk about the ceremony." Mavis rolled her eyes but shoved Chris toward Tom.
Father Hughs sat primly in his chair sipping tea. Age had diminished his size so that the crown of his head was barely visible as Chris and Tom entered the room. Father Hughes was the local vicar for nigh on forty years; his sight was poor and his hearing questionable even with his hearing aids. He peered at Tom through his thick glasses. "Nice to see you again, Thomas." He set the tea cup on the side table. "I am very happy that you have found someone to love and love you back. It is the greatest virtue according to St. Paul." He looked Chris over, but did not smile. "However, in the eyes of the church, the relationship between two men is a sin against nature and God." Chris put a reassuring hand on Tom's shoulder. "I am forbidden to marry you." He shook his head and looked between Chris and Tom. "I see the love between you, the respect you have for each other, but cannot disobey my bishop on this matter."
"I can fully appreciate the delicate situation that you are in. And I would love to argue the scriptural fallacies behind the ban. I do, however, hate the hypocrisy used in justification. To cite the Old Testament is to go against Paul who said the Old Testament laws were replace by the teachings of Jesus, who said not one single word against same sex relationships. He did say plenty about those who are judgmental and self-righteous and those who judge others faults."
Father Hughes looked at Chris, judging. "St. Paul did condemn same sex relationships."
"True he did. He also approved of slavery and told women not to leave the house without their heads covered. Your church has defied him on both issues. I see that as hypocrisy."
"You are correct young man, but like you said, we are not here to argue theology. It is a simple fact that I am not permitted to marry you."
"You are right. Tom and I do not want to put you in a compromising situation. I do have two alternate suggestions." Father Hughes lifted his head to listen. "Do you believe that God gives every person a soul at conception?"
"Yes, that is our teaching. The body is the temple of the soul."
"Does nature sometimes go awry in the womb where the body is not perfect?"
"Yes, of course. I am not sure where you are going?"
"Do those defects change the soul?"
Father Hughes looked at Tom for guidance. "No, the soul God gives is not the body."
Chris smiled. "God gave me the soul of a man." Father Hughes nodded. "But nature took a different path and gave me the body of a woman."
Father Hughes sputtered as he looked Chris over. "I am too old to be played the fool."
"Would you take Tom's word or would you rather see me naked."
Father Hughes started to choke as he glared at Chris. "I must trust you, young man, but what is the point?"
"If the whole impediment to our marriage is whether or not I have a vagina, that impediment is moot. At least for another month."
Father Hughes looked at Chris and laughed. It was deep and from his soul. "You make a very convincing argument, lad. But the Church is struggling even more with transgender issues than gay issues. My Bishop would be apoplectic if he found out." Father Hughes was smiling at Chris. "But you knew that when you proposed that as a solution. What is your second alternative?"
"You could perform `Service of Celebration following a Civil Partnership'. I know several have been done and a suggested prayer service is available." Chris sat back in his chair waiting.
Father Hughs sat back in his chair, finger on his lip. "Have you had a civil ceremony?"
"Yes, we are legally married in the States, which is accepted here as a legal civil union." Tom said.
"Thank you Thomas, this makes my decision easier." He smiled at Chris. "You have found yourself a devoted and loving partner. I will be more than happy to bless this union." Father Hughs chuckled to himself. "My Bishop will be discomforted by my actions, but bugger him. There is nothing he can do." Father Hughs stood with the assistance of the arms on the chair. Chris wanted to rush over and help, but waited. Father found his footing and headed toward the door. Chris walked beside him.
At the main entryway Father Hughs stopped to look at the decorations and listen to Mary singing as she worked. "Chris," he said, "you are a blessing to this house. It is a happy place again." He turned, kissed Chris on both cheeks. "Peace of the Lord be with you." As he was getting into the car with the waiting drive he yells. "See you in church three times this week." Chris did a quick calculation and laughed as he waved goodbye.
As Chris walked toward the formal parlor, he spotted Mary. "I heard you singing." She stiffened her posture. "You have a very nice voice. I would love to hear it more often." She blushed and scurried away to another room.
Once in the formal parlor, Chris spotted Tom on his phone and Grandda helping Lulu place presents under the twenty-foot tree. He was laughing and teasing her. He spotted Chris. "I need your advice." Chris walked over. "Usually at Christmas we open presents that morning after services. Tradition has been for me to give each servant a gift and they leave to open it elsewhere. This year, I was thinking to have the entire household, including servants stay, open presents and join in a Christmas brunch. Will the staff like it or be too nervous to enjoy it? I don't want things to be awkward."
"You have a good idea, which I approve of, but you are right to be concerned about them being nervous. They would feel out of place if they had no gifts to give in return." Chris sat in a chair next to Grandda, critiquing the placement of each gift as Lulu moved them around. "I have a thought. Let me run it by Clarke and Mavis."
"Talked to the parents. They just landed in Liverpool and should be here in about an hour." Chris's phone rang; he glanced at the screen. "My parents, I'll take it in the other room. You know my mom." Tom shood Chris away.
A little over an hour later Grandda's limo arrived with Tom and Chris's families. Stu, Helga and the other board members of Dreamweavers were heading on to London to look at the potential office and conduct a few meetings. Chris chuckled to himself as he saw the two families, each from a different climate dress to meet the English elements. Tracey was in jeans and a hoodie while Britney was in a down jacket, scarf, hat and gloves.
Chris's mother free from the car stopped and looked at the estate and then rushed to Chris. "It is so much grander than I thought, newer too." Chris laughed at the last statement. The last major building extension was in the 1840's when the new front facade was added. Clarke was there directing staff with the luggage and escorting family out of the dank chilled air. Inside the entryway, Lulu and Mary waited with cups of spiced wine and hot cocoa. Drinks in hand, they went into the grand parlor, which was over forty feet long. Both sideboards had sandwiches, fruit and vegetables, and small plate finger foods. Although fed on the flight, the buffet was appreciated.
Chris watched Linc and Nat admiring the large Christmas tree in one corner decorated with ornaments collected over decades. He kissed her. Nat and Linc were now a serious couple. Chris smiled at them as they saw him watching. Chris's mother was heading over to talk to Grandda, with a plate of food in her hands, Chris rushed to head her off before she did something stupid.
She curtsied, "Your Lordship, thank you for the invitation to your lovely home. It is both grand and charming."
"I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, madam. You know who I am but not vice versa."
"Oh, I am so sorry. I am Helen Wentworth, Chris's mother."
"In that case, since we are family Helen, please call me Seymour. I must say Helen, you have raised a remarkable son. You and your husband must be so proud of him."
"We both are very proud of him, Seymour. He has done very well for himself. And your grandson Tom is such a charming young man. Chris is lucky to have snagged him."
"I assure you, Helen, that Tom is the lucky one. If you will excuse me, I see Clarke needs my attention." He took Helen's hand and kissed it. She blushed.
"He is such an elegant and cordial man." Helen said as she watched Grandda walk away.
"That he is," agreed Chris. "But you don't need to kiss his hand. He is not a bishop." Helen only nodded enthralled by the décor of the grand parlor.
Once Grandda left the room, the guests were shown to their rooms to clean up and rest before the Christmas Eve dinner.
Chris and Tom's suite was the hub of the late afternoon activities as family members stopped by to chat. Chris excused himself saying that he had a task Grandda needed done. Tom would make Chris pay later for abandoning him.
Tracey helped by taking Britney on a tour of the house. But Helen was driving him to distraction with inane chatter about all the antiques, how noble Seymour was, how lucky Chris was to marry above his station. The last galled Tom the most, but he held his tongue until. "Helen," Tom paused and decided to be daring. "Mom, why do you continue to think so little of your son." Helen stopped in mid chatter. "It is I who am marrying above my station. You don't realize how truly special Chris is. If my Grandda did not see Chris as my peer, do you think for a second he would approve our marriage. Do you think that Grandda made me his heir because of my own worth? He made me heir because of Chris. My Grandda loves and respects Chris as an equal to him as a person who will well represent the Greenwood name and status. Our family is one of the oldest in Great Britain. The rings Chris and I will exchange at our nuptials were given to the family by Queen Elizabeth the First. Our name is honored and respected. Do you think for a minute my Grandda would allow that heritage to be tarnished, yet Chris has Grandda's ear as we speak, which is why he is not here. Look at your son, watch him; you will be as amazed as I am."
"Tom, I don't appreciate being lectured about my son." Helen set her whisky sour on a table. "But a mother can be blind to her children as they grow to adulthood because I see only the child I tried to raise. And I did that not too well. I am not proud of how we forced Chris to be a person he was not. Even after his incident, I did not see him. I saw a person who needed to conform, fit into the world I grew up in. I lost my son for three years. Didn't know if he was alive, because of my failure. When I see you, I see his savior." She pulled a hanky from her sleeve. "Sitting here, in this grand home, where a Lord lives, is every mother's dream for her daughter. But Chris is not my daughter." She looked at her hands. "He never was my daughter; I was too blind to see it. I am still blind."
"Helen, Mom, you and Chris Sr. were remarkable parents dealing with a very difficult child. You did what you could with what you knew. You taught him to play the piano, how to host parties, ballet and poise. Chris Sr., Dad, taught him self-defense, self-reliance and courage. His life on the streets, would have broken a lesser person, it made him strong, more determined to be himself. You and Dad need to be proud of him and your hand in leading him to be himself."
Helen searched the room for Chris, but he was not there. She smiled to herself. "You are right Tom. Where Chris is today is because he earned it. It was not a gift out of pity or altruism. I still worry that this so much in so short of time." Tom did not answer because he did not need to. "How did you and Chris meet?"
"When I say that Chris saved me, I mean it. I've been a very successful model since I was sixteen, but I had no foundation, no sense of self. I was in a causal relationship with a man who was toxic, but I did not see that he was dangerous. I first met Chris when I was in Chicago working at Macy's. I was leaving for the evening when this angelic voice from the shadows says, You got a light,'" Helen gasped at the thought of Chris smoking, but for once said nothing. "The voice was attached to this angelic face dressed in dirty, oversized clothes. Normally, I would tell such a person to fuck off', but there was something about Chris that said he was my anchor. I invited him to a small diner, figured I would feed him and send him on his way. But the more he talked, the more he listened to me, the more I knew this was the man I needed in my life. Our relationship has not always been easy, but he is the easiest person to love."
Helen reached over and took both of Tom's hands. "Son, I am so happy that both of you have found what you need in each other. But I still reserve the right as a mother to worry" Nothing more needed to be said between them.
At 7:00 Tom and Chris along with the family were escorted by Owen, wearing a black tuxedo with tails, black vest with gold embossed buttons, an over starched white shirt and bow tie. Chris sidled up to Owen, "Are we doing a scene from Downton Abbey?"
"No, Sir," Owen replied crisply, "this is formal attire at Thistledown. Do you, Sir, normally eat at home wearing a tuxedo?"
Chris could not help but laugh. "Got me on that one." Chris straightened his red bowtie.
"Tonight is a very special meeting of the two family of the heir of Thistledown and his consort. I have the privilege of serving the Wentworth family, while Clarke will do the same for the Greenwoods." Owen turned sharply, his heels almost clicking, and led everyone to the family parlor. Mary met them at the door with a glass of champagne. Lulu followed close behind with a small plate of amuse bouche: cured-beet and Scottish salmon napoleon, braised kohlrabi with truffles, and goat cheese panna cotta with cranberry jelly.
Grandda was standing by the fireplace; he had a broad smile and his second drink in his hand. "Welcome family and soon to be family to Thistledown. It has been far too long since I have entertained, which has made my cook happy that she can once again display her culinary skills. Tonight is a double celebration. Not only is it the most solemn feast of Christmas, but the joining of my grandson and heir, Thomas, to Chris Wentworth." He looked at Tom, "Thomas," Tom rose to face his Grandda. Thomas, my lad, as my heir, I am giving you great responsibility to carry on the Greenwood heritage. I know it is something that you did not want, which was one of the reasons I selected you. You are young and have much to learn, but I have seen you mature into a fine young man: honest, responsible and compassionate. The traditions that I grew up with are fading fast. I do not regret seeing them leave like the dinosaurs. You now have the onerous duty to build new traditions, but I have the confidence that you can with your consort." Grandda took a sip of champagne, then looked at Chris. "Chris," Chris stood. "I never thought that I would see the marriage of two men, not that two men have never been in love before. Traditions and long held prejudices are hard to break. This is part of the new tradition that my heir is to bring forth. You as consort are charged with supporting, guiding, and challenging your husband. From what I have seen, you will have no problem with that." People laughed. "When I first heard Tom was besotted by an American and a man. I was very skeptical as to your suitability as a consort. But meeting you and getting to know you, I discovered that Tom could not have chosen a better person to be by his side. You have a core of solid steel, tempered with understanding and compassion. In less than two months, you have transformed this seplecurian house and myself to a place of happiness and joy. I thank you for that more than you know. You have returned to me that which I foolishly discarded. You have transformed this sour old man to one who sings in the shower and walks lighter in his shoes. I and the entire staff thank you for that. Now I will say to everyone that Tom being besotted by an American and man is the best thing that has ever happened to Greenwood. To Chris." Grandda raised his glass. All of Tom's family immediately stood as did Britney. Helen looked at her husband and stood too, family.
"Dinner is ready to be served." Mavis said from the doorway. She was dressed as a full chef with white jacket and tall hat. The look of pride on her face was a joy to behold. When they walked into the dining room, Chris's mother gasped like she just had an orgasm. The table glittered with four cut glass wine glasses on braided stems, bread plate with knife on a crystal rest, a bone plate nestled next to the main plate, four forks on the left; three knives on the right, tea spoon; dessert spoon and fork over the plate, individual salt and pepper bowls. and soup spoon and cocktail fork to the side. Three silver five candle candelabras graced the center of the table, among a pine garland with holly. The napkins were tucked into silver figural napkin rings setting on cream porcelain plates edged with blue and gold. Above the napkins were silver swan place card holders, each name elegantly calligraphed. A menu was placed against the water glass:
Soup--lobster bisque--sherry
Appetizer--Smoked tomatoes stuffed with goat cheese--sherry
Salad--mixed greens with balsamic glaze dressing
Fish--Dover Sole Veronica--Pinot Gris
Fowl--Alsatian-Style Roast Goose with Foie Gras & Chestnuts--Pinot noir
Palate cleanser--Grilled grapefruit wedges with wildflower honey--Prosecco
Beef--Wellington with wild mushroom sauce--Malbec
Vegetables--Glazed Carrots
Turnip and Anchovy Gratin
Potatoes Duchess with Sage Flowers
Cheeses--Stilton, Caboc, and Wensleydale with wedges of apple and pear--Chardonnay
Dessert--Christmas pudding (flambe)--Port
Mignardise--honeyed pears in puff pastry and candied fruits--music room
Coffee and tea--Brandy or cordial
Tracey looked at the menu. "Should have worn sweatpants with all this food."
"That is why many men wear suspenders." Quent snapped his. "Can undo the top button on the trousers without any offense to the ladies."
Chris examined the table seatings. He was disappointed. Tom's family was on one side of the table while Chris's was on the other side. He wanted the two families to mix more. Clarke approached Grandda and poured him a glass of sherry, while Owen did the same for Aunt Mary, who was seated at the other end of the table. They then both poured for Tom and Chris and moved down the table. Helen, frowned at the sherry in Britney's glass, looked across and saw Tracey with the same, and then decided that with the food, Britney should be fine. And this was a noble house.
The lobster bisque was served with large chunks of lobster and a slice of French crusty bread. By the moans of delight, the meal was off to a good start. Conversation picked up as the meal flowed through the appetizer and salad. The dover sole with the peeled grapes brought conversation to a halt; it was too good. "I have never thought of adding grapes to a fish dish, but this is the best fish I have ever tasted." Anda agreed as she dabbed a sliver of bread into the cream sauce.
The goose was brought out whole by Mavis for presentation before it was carved on the sideboard, although a second carved goose was waiting to be served. Grandda was salivating at the goose. It was a dish he grew up on as a Christmas meal. Britney was less impressed with the foie gras or the chestnuts, but she loved the goose and braised cabbage.
The rest of the meal moved faster with the medallion of beef Wellington in a wild mushroom port sauce being a true hit with Tracey and Linc. Tracey was not sure about the turnips with anchovy, but he braved it and had a spoonful, tasted and asked for more. By the cheese course, people were slowing down, savoring the food and wine. The lights went out in the dining room except for the candles on the table. A cart was wheeled in with a flaming dessert--Christmas pudding. When Chris took his first bit; he found he was not eating pudding but a cake, more like a fruit cake with raisins and other fruit. It was far better than he thought it would be.
Everybody was grateful after sitting for three hours eating to move to the music room. Most took the opportunity to hit the W.C. Once everybody was seated, Clarke placed a platter of puff pastry and candied fruit on several tables while Owen passed out Christmas crackers. Drink orders were taken: Chris opted for black coffee and brandy. The good food and ample wine made everybody friendly and festive. Popping the crackers had Helen and Anda in giggles.
"Chris?" Grandda asked. "Would you mind playing for us?"
"Grandda, how could I refuse. After that spectacular meal, I need to repay the host." Chris sat at the piano; he started to play Debussy but morphed it into "Jingle Bells". Soon everyone was singing loudly and off key to every Christmas carol they knew. Quent, Chris Sr, Tracey, and Linc tried four-part barbershop harmony. It was terrible, but no one cared. Anda and Nat were passible on `River Dance". Helen did a solo on "Santa Claus is coming to Town". She had a good voice and hammed up the lyrics. To end the night, Chris was asked to play and sing "Silent Night". Because of his hormone treatments, his voice had changed, while he could still do some alto, his register was more baritone tenor. It was a fitting end to the night.
Owen was gently waking Chris and Tom. "Sirs, you need to dress and get ready for church. Father Hughs will not think kindly if you are late." Owen had clothes laid out and the shower was ready for them. They met everyone in the breakfast room and took three vehicles to the church since all the household staff was joining in the service.
It was more a small chapel that could hold maybe one hundred people. It was built in the late 11th century of roughhewn stone with a wood belfry. The inside darkness was penetrated by a few shafts of light from the four lancet windows. The walls and ceiling were freshly whitewashed. Candles burned beside the altar, giving the place a brighter touch. There was no stained glass except for the small round window behind the altar, through which the morning sun was shining adding vibrant color to the stark room. Grandda led the way into the church and to a pew alongside a long wall. A few other people, dressed vibrantly for the holiday sat in a pew across from them. Nods were exchanged as others joined inside the church to stand for the service. The service was a moving mix of gospel readings, prayers, and carols. The small choir of five people was lost in the voices of the congregation, who were most accustomed to participating in the service. After the service Fr. Hughes greeted everybody wishing them a Merry Christmas. Grandda invited him to brunch, but he refused claiming other duties.
Once home, everybody rushed to their rooms to change into more comfortable clothes. Mavis, Lulu, and Mary went to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the late afternoon buffet. About thirty people were expected as people arrived today for the nuptials tomorrow.
Tom cornered Chris in the dressing room as he was changing into pale green jeans a dark green cashmere sweater. "Chris, before we go downstairs and join the family to share presents, I want to thank you for the best present that I have ever received." Chris was not sure what Tom was talking about. "The best Christmas present I have ever received is you. You fill something in me I thought was impossible--love. I truly was walking through life until I met you. Then you agreed to marry me; not once but twice. You are my light in this dark world. You are my hope when I despair. You are the air I breathe, the ground I walk on, the beating of my heart. I see your talent, beauty, and kindness and it fills my lungs with air. I see you dressed or naked, I am filled with desire. Chris Wentworth you are my love for now and forever." He took Chris in his arms and kissed him with every ounce of desire and love he could give.
"Wow," Chris said as the kiss broke. "Wow. Tom, know that I love you. You make me complete and unbreakable. Like ocean blue and helios yellow paints poured into one bowl become verdant green; that green can never be split into yellow or blue again. So are we, together a new color created by our love."
Owen watched this from a doorway, silent and moved. But his Lordship was waiting. "If you blokes are done being sappy. Nice sappy. There are presents to open."
Grandda saw Chris and Tom enter. He gave then a quick nod. "Clarke, would you please ask all the staff to attend. I know Mavis will protest but tell her it is an order." Clarke did his head bow and left. "Tom, Chris, come sit beside me. I need your help with the presents." Tom and Chris sat on either side of him. Owen handed both a glass of eggnog, well laced. Chris smelled it and laughed, tasted it and laughed again.
"Family, you are now all family. I want to thank you for being here to celebrate Christmas." Grandda looked affectionately at Quent. "I was a very miserable old man until my grandson Chris showed me what I really had to be happy about. It is you sitting in this room. You are the greatest Christmas present I could ever have, and I am sorry it took me so long to realize what I had. I raised three beautiful children, but after my wife died and then my oldest son, I drove my other children away. I knew I was being foolish, and selfish, but once I was on that path I did not know how to turn around. Thank you Quent and you Anda, whom I have grievously wronged, for letting me back into your lives." Grandda turned away from the family to control his emotions. "Here is to a new beginning for us and to many more Christmases together." Grandda paused to look at the late entries; he staggered like he was hit with an arrow. Chris caught him and set him in a chair. Chris looked to the back of the room to the door. Cedrick and Ariel were there with their two sons and two other women.
"Sorry we are late." Cedrick said as the group walked into the room to many greetings and hugs. Tom, who was at Chris's side whispered. "The one in the green dress is Anna, Cedrick's sister." He pointed to an older woman, who was holding Cedrick's elbow. "The other woman is my Aunt Magdlyn. Grandda's daughter." Grandda was sitting in the chair crying.
"Merry Christmas to all." Magdlyn yelled as she turned toward Grandda and Tom. "I could not miss my favorite nephew's nuptials. And..." She saw her father weeping in his chair. "And... And... to hug my father, whom I love so much, even when he is an ass." She walked toward her father, determined and steady. Kneeling beside him she hugged him. He returned the hug, a strong and desperate hug. They hugged for ages while everyone watched the tender reunion.
She helped her father to stand. "Thank you Mag for being here. I have missed you so much." Quent rushed to hug his sister and his father. "My children home for Christmas. The good Lord is showering me with blessings."
Mag looked at Tom and then Chris. "So this is the young man that stole your heart, Tom." She hugged Tom.
"Aunt Mag, I would like to introduce you to Chris Wentworth, my husband."
"It is a pleasure Aunt Mag. Tom and I are both delighted that you could be here for our nuptials. But even more so for Grandda."
"Yes, it took some convincing by Arial to break the gap. Da has changed if Quent is here with his family, so I figured, what the bloody hell. Word is that you are responsible for the change in Da. I thank you."
"I did nothing but point out that he had a loving family that he was missing the joy of. The rest was his decision. He has a heart very capable of great love; he just needed to find it. We all do from time to time." Chris looked at his parents: his dad standing proud and his mother crying at the tender moment.
Clarke had Owen and Hagan lug in a large sofa and set it slantwise to the Christmas Tree and the room. Grandda, Mag and Quent all sat together on the sofa, holding hands. "Chris, Tom," Grandda said, "would you do the honors of passing out gifts?" Chris sat on the floor, took a gift, read the name and handed it to Tom. Everyone received a gift, including all the staff, who were present at His Lordships request. There was even a gift for Mag.
"How did you know I would be her. I didn't decide until late last night to come up with Cedrick and Arial. No one knew."
Tom chuckled. "I think my husband knew. He's a Greenwood."
Not a single person was disappointed with their gift.
Quent, Mag and Grandda each received the same gift. A beautifully framed picture of the family before their mother died. "I did not know that this even existed."
"Aunt Mary found the original. I took it to a restorer and had it framed." Chris was pleased as the three looked lovingly at the picture and then started to reminisce.
"Just what the fuck I needed," yelled Aunt Mary as she held up a 16 year old bottle of Lagavulin scotch.
Ariel and Cedrick's sons were jumping up and down at the new video game. Chris's mother was ecstatic over the Lladro "Children Playing". Chris told Britney that she was the one to inherit that collection. Chris always hated them. Mavis was clutching to her bosom the rare French cookbook, La Cuisiniere Bourgoise. Owen was gifted with a one-year pass to Disneyland; Tracey was given two passes--one for him and the other for Gab. Chris watched Tracey and Owen planning trips. Tom's gift was a gold chain necklace with a Celtic tree of life pendant. Chris laughed when he opened his gift from: a gold chain necklace with a Celtic tree of life pendant. "This truly proves that we belong together." Tom said as he showed everybody the two similar gifts.
Once everyone settled down, Grandda stood. "This day, this house has been blessed with the spirit of this season. We have survived the longest night of the year and the days are returning. So too have we by our separate paths been sundered to the distant places, but now we have returned home. Let us join together by sharing the providence of the Almighty." He looked toward the back of the room. "This includes all the staff. Though we have different duties and responsibilities, it is only by being together that this House stands." The staff stood stunned until Clarke urged them on the way to the dining room where the buffet was warming in chafing dishes.
The staff huddled together at a table close to the doors, uncertain and silent. "Mavis," Chris said as he stood behind her. "My mother wants to talk to you about the shrimp you prepared today." Mavis sat frozen, not wanting to move but not wanting to defy Chris, her better.
She stood, wary, until Chris beamed a smile at her that she could not refuse. "I would love to meet Mrs. Wentworth."
"If you call her Mrs. Wentworth, she will be offended. "She is an American; we are far too informal for anything but first names. She would like you to call her Helen." They walked over to where Helen was sitting and chatting with Anda. "Mom, Anda, this is Mavis, she is the cook here, but is trained under several French chefs and an amazing chef." Helen practically salivated at the introduction. "Mavis, this is my mother Helen, and of course you know Tom's mother Anda."
"It is a great pleasure to meet you. Your food is the best I have ever had. Perhaps you can help me. My hard-boiled eggs always come out with a dark ring around the yolk." Chris smiled--one down several to go. He paired Linc up with Dink, the grounds keeper. Lulu and Mary with Tracey and Britney to discuss the state of music. That left Hagan to Chris's dad and Quent to argue over soccer.
"Nice work laddy." Aunt Mary patted an empty chair between her and Mag. "You will make this a much better place. Now if you can get more comfortable chairs. I don't have the same padding in the behind that I did when I was twenty."
"Perhaps, when I have more time, we can shop together for a chair just for you when you visit. Tom and I would love for you to visit us in L.A.."
"Love to laddy, but I'm too old to fly, I'm over eighty."
"So, direct flight from London to L.A.. You and Grandda could come together. We would fly you first class. Jet lag will be a problem because of the time differences. Although it is an eleven-hour direct flight, the sunlight difference is only three hours. If you leave at noon, you will arrive at three. But if you sleep on the plane, you will be rested."
"I'll talk to Seymour about it." Aunt Mary patted Chris's hand to end the discussion.
"Chris," Mag spoke, causing Chris to shift attention away from Aunt Mary. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Ariel has been most effusive about you. Watching you gently manipulating people to build bonds is masterful. And watching my father watch you with so much pride and love. It is something I thought I would never see. You know that he and I had a falling out over Quent."
"Falling out, more volcanic." Aunt Mary blurted out.
"Yes, it was vocal," Mag conceded. "The end result is that we have not spoken more than five times in twenty years. After my older brother died, which was not long after my mother. Da retreated and became harsh. He was a very loving and generous man as we grew up. We children were spoiled rotten. When Quent, and apparent heir, decided to marry outside the Greenwood pale, it was too much and broke Da even further. Ariel told me that you would fix Da and reunite us. I did not believe her. I came to see for myself if she were right. But I see Da laughing. I see Quent and his wife and children, who are bright and well adjusted. Ariel was right. You performed a miracle."
"No miracle, just told Grandda the truth about his life and what he was missing. He took the steps to change. He was miserable and lonely; I showed him how to fix it. Like you said, there is a very loving and caring man under a morass of self-loathing. He found himself again."
"Chris, I am curious about your parents being here?" Aunt Mary asked. "When I first met you, you were estranged from them." Mag leaned closer to hear.
"My father always felt guilty about my gender dysphoria. Once he accepted that he was not responsible, he lost his guilt, and we could resume our family relationship."
Mag looked at Chris. "That is what it is. You're transgender. Which way?"
"Female to male." Chris answered but was not certain of the intention of the question.
"Good for you. A friend of mine, her son is transgender like you. She has been so supportive. I am sorry that your parents were not. But it seems things are rectified." Chris assured her it was good. "You may have heard of my friend. She writes gay romance novels under I. Guzman."
Chris sat back in his chair and laughed. "I've met her and her son, his wife and daughter. It is a small world. She and her son were most supportive. We are in regular communication via text and email."
"Yes, she is a remarkable woman. I met her at a book signing with my son Rupert. He's at a conference in Arizona; otherwise, he would have accompanied me. My husband and I separated several years ago. But that is not a story prior to a nuptial. Do you and Tom plan to adopt or use a surrogate." Mag's hand flew to cover her mouth. "That is totally inappropriate."
"True," Chris said with a frown. "But I am told a hot topic among the Greenwood Clan. I've met Braxton." Mag nodded in condolence. "I have frozen my eggs, so when the time is right we will use a surrogate to carry our child."
"That is brilliant, Chris." Mag studied Chris. "When you are ready for a surrogate let me know. I work for a social services agency. I often get requests by young women to be surrogates."
"We will appreciate the help when we are ready. We think not for several years."
"Sir," Clarke stood in front of Chris. "May I speak with you?"
"Of course, just sit down and we can talk." Clarke looked around, uncomfortable with the idea of sitting with the master of the house like he was family. "Clarke, you are more comfortable standing and showing deference to my status in this house. I am demanding that you sit and talk to me, person to person." Both Mag and Aunt Helen looked at Chris like he was insane. Person-to-person was not Clarke.
Clarke looked around, found a chair and sat. "Sir."
Chris scowled. "Are you interrupting the party to discuss household business?"
"No Sir, it is to satisfy my curiosity. If that is a breach of protocol, I will discuss it later in private."
"Clarke, this is a party, and you have a question which is not related to the running of the household. I then think the appropriate address for me is by my Christian name of Chris."
Clarke inhaled and choked like he swallowed a bag of lint. "Very good,...Chris. You do know that this goes against forty years of training. I am not accustomed to such familiarity."
"I know Clarke. I appreciate your effort. But running the household is your job, but it should not be 24/7. I do expect you to be more formal in formal settings, but this is a gathering of family. You are part of the family. Do you call your family sir all the time?"
"Point taken Chris." Clarke's eyes narrowed. "What have you and Tom done to Petey?"
Chris was taken aback by the question. "Owen. We call him Owen, his middle name because he thought Petey was too juvenile for a personal assistant. He also did not like Peter or Pete. Owen is seventeen, close to being an adult. If he wants a more adult name, Tom and I respect that. Owen has changed, is that good or bad according to you?"
"I understand the change in name. I do not go by my childhood nickname either. But Owen, does not behave like a proper servant. He calls you by your first name. That is way too familiar."
"Tom and I do not consider him a servant. He is more than that. He is our personal assistant. We chose this for several reasons. In American, servants are rare. We did not want to explain why he is our servant. Also, people might think that he as a servant was actually our sexual toy, which he is not. He functions as a personal assistant: he attends meetings and takes notes, arranges our schedule, answers emails and other messages, he makes our lives run smoother. The final reason and most important is that Grandda wants Owen to experience the world. As a servant he would be mostly limited to the house; as a personal assistant, he can go anywhere with us. Tom and I fully expect Owen to attend college and pursue a career beyond us. If we treat him like an equal, he acts like an equal and will do better in the world at large."
Clarke sat thinking. Clarke looked around the room, spotting Owen chatting with Anda and Helen, making them laugh. "Chris, I was wrong to question your wisdom. Owen is far more confident and poised that he was when he left. He has always been like a son to me and the entire staff. It is difficult to see him grow up." Clarke looked into Chris's face. "I love my life. I love working here for his Lordship. But I am a relic of the past, a dying way of the world. I see the young royals on TV engage in activities that no past royal would think of, but people like the easier way. Owen deserves to be part of this newer world. I will miss some of the structure of the past, but not the rigid class structure of the past. Thank you Chris for your time. I have tasks to attend to." Clarke stood, did a head bow and left.
"Chris, you have opened the windows to this house and spring is blowing in." Mag said with a shake of her head. Clarke agreed to call a member of the family by a first name. There is hope for the Greenwood clan.
Chris watched Clarke leave then abruptly stood. "Please excuse me. I see someone I had not expected to see here." He kissed both their hands and left. Chris rushed across the room and pulled into a massive hug a tall thin man in a grey Armani suit. "Hank what are you doing here? I'm so happy that you are here? Where is Dion?"
Hank tugged Chris into the hallway. "I was unable to attend your wedding in L.A., so I took the liberty of crashing the one here. I assume it is OK?"
"Of course, it is. You are like a second father to me. Without you and Dion, I would not be alive." Hank frowned. "What?"
"Dion is dead. You knew I had him put in a facility because his delusions were getting worse. The demons of war never left him: too much blood on his hands from friends and those he was forced to kill. They finally became too strong for him and he took his life." Chris was in shock. "Do not cry for him. He would not want it. Be happy that he is at peace. He loved you Chris. You brought him joy and happiness. You kept the demons quieter."
"I should have stayed or done more to help him after I left."
"No Chris, you did what you needed to do. I am so happy that you escaped the streets and now have a good life with a good man. Nothing you could have done would have prevented what Dion did. He was a very good and noble man until the end."
"Yes, he was." Chris and Hank stood quietly for several minutes lost in memory and grief. "I need to introduce you to people. Now my parents are here. We have made up so be nice to them."
"Chris, my boy, I was CEO of a large company. I knew many snakes and never killed one."
First on the list were his parents. How do you introduce a man who saved the son that you kicked to the street. "Mom, Dad, this is Hank. He and his friend Dion were very instrumental in me surviving after I left home."
Chris's mom stood and hugged Hank tightly. "Thank you so much for what you did for Chris. If we had lost him, I don't know what I would do."
"Thank you Ma'am."
"Tush Helen and my husband is Chris Sr."
"Helping your son was a great pleasure for me and my friend Dion. I have seen many young men slip away into drugs and prostitution when they live on the street." Hank was not prone to sugar coat anything. Hellen winced but did not let go of Hank's hand. "Chris never once went that way. Not to say he didn't do things to survive, but he never lost himself. You and your husband gave him that strength." Chris, Helen and Hank sat.
"And where is the other friend that helped, Dion?" Helen asked.
"He passed away about a month ago."
"I am sorry." Helen looked at Hank. The image of a street person and the man before her was not consistent.
Hank chuckled. "I lived on the street by choice. I made a fortune in business, but when my business was bought in a hostile takeover and my wife and children decided I was no longer rich enough for them, I opted for a simpler life. They also didn't like that I had a boyfriend on the side. Recently, I bought a small condo on N. Lake Shore Dr. overlooking Lake Michigan. It is a little large for me, but I plan on turning one of the bedrooms into an office. Chris if you and Tom ever need a place to stay, let me know."
"Nice to meet you Hank." Chris, Sr. stuck out his hand. "I can assume that your last name is Walker." Hank looked surprised but nodded. "I'm an accountant and am looking into Chris and Tom's finances for tax purposes. I can also assume that it was you that gifted Chris with the money to buy his two homes?"
"Yes," Hank nodded on the defensive. "I know it makes an income tax nightmare, but I wanted Chris to be comfortable."
"I appreciate what you did and honestly Chris needs both homes with his business travel. When Tom inherits this place. It will be a third home. Plus income from settlements, work, gifts, royalties from the video. And him as trustee for your account--I met with your attorney before we flew here--I am having the time of my life sorting it all out so it benefits Chris and Tom."
"Only my dad would find a tax nightmare fun. I did not tell you because we just found out. Tom and I have income from this estate as heirs. And we are thinking of buying a place in Chicago that Dreamweavers can use to entertain clients."
"While Dreamweavers is a client of our firm, I do not handle that account. Right now, I am mostly assigned to you. I will be sending an invoice, which I will pay, at the end of the month." Chris Sr. jerked. "Did you say you have income from this property?"
"Yes, between Tom and I, about 150,000 pounds a year, plus living expenses, from which we pay our personal assistant."
"Now I need to add foreign income." Chris's dad was smiling. "Helen, you and I need to retire so Chris can claim us as dependents. He will need the tax deductions."
"No way, honey am I giving up my job to sponge off our son. When we retire we'll go into a life care community in Florida. A nice three bedroom one, so they can visit with our grandchildren. We'll let him pay for all of that."
"Come on Hank. I need to introduce you to more people." Chris yanked Hank away before his parents could talk more about grandchildren. Chris introduced Hank to most everyone including Grandda. The two seemed to immediately bond and Hank and Grandda spent the rest of the afternoon chatting. "Do you think?" Chris asked Tom. Tom only laughed.