Crazy Old Money: A BWWM Billionaire Romantic Comedy

by Kilby Blades

  Jada beat Marsh to the punch of choosing a conversation, walking toward Susie and Jill, motioning toward something on the tall fireplace mantel that caught her eye. Susie walked to where the framed photo sat, picked it up and studied it, smiling as she did. “Yeah…” she said wistfully. “I think Marsh was about ten and I was about eight.” She turned to Marsh. “Remember that? That was the summer they were rebuilding the stables.”

  “The stables?” Jada directed her question to Susie, but shot a look at Marsh. Susie’s husband, Ollie stood beside, holding Jill’s little brother, Dane. Marsh remembered something important then: the infant liked him. All babies did. Even as he lay on Ollie’s chest sucking his thumb, little Dane eyed Marsh with interest.

  It’ll definitely distract Jada from asking about the stables if she sees me holding a baby.

  “They’re too far back to see from the driveway,” Susie was telling Jada as Marsh held out his hands to Ollie.

  “I’ll take him,” Marsh offered a bit too loudly. Ollie seemed relieved to be handing his son off. Holding babies was precious, but even the little ones got heavy. “Hey, buddy,” Marsh whispered, smiling down into the clear brown eyes of the child.

  Dane really was a sweet little thing. Marsh remembered affectionately that Jill had looked the same when she was little. He was no genetics expert, but he was fairly sure that his future children with Jada would have brown eyes. He hoped they were dark and lovely, like Jada’s.

  “Just how far back does the property go?” Jada was asking as she wandered toward a window that thankfully wouldn’t show her much given that it was dark.

  “I’ll take you on a walk tomorrow,” Marsh interjected quickly, not wanting Susie to say the number. Sixty-seven acres was an obscene amount of undeveloped land, especially in this part of the country.

  “Oh, here it is!” Susie exclaimed lightly, handing Jada another framed picture—one that Marsh craned his neck to see. “It’s you and Chancellor. God, you loved that horse.”

  Keeping his eyes fixed on Jada, Marsh waited for another accusing look. But she studied the picture for a long time.

  “You were really cute,” she said finally, sincerely, in a way that made him sure she’d have loved to have seen this piece of him before. The betrayal in her eyes as she looked up from his childhood picture was worse than any glare.

  “Do you mind if I steal my son a minute?” Marshall Senior came out of nowhere. “There are papers I’ve been wanting him to look over.”

  “Go,” Susie put down her wine and motioned to take her baby back.

  Jada’s arms were crossed and she refused to let her gaze meet his. Marsh knew better than to push her. Maybe him getting out of her sight for a few minutes would help her cool down. At least there were no more photos on the mantel.

  If other matters weren’t at hand, Marsh might have slowed their walk through the halls, pulled his father aside and told him of his own predicament. They’d become close over the years—the gradual reconciliation of an absentee father and his adult son. There had never been any doubt that Marshall Senior had loved Marsh and his mother. But running his company had made it so that he was never around.

  “Hey, Dad. What’s up with Maw Maw?” he asked instead, remembering his other predicament. He asked only after they’d reached the privacy of the back stairs. “Why did she call us all here?”

  Marshall Senior paused from climbing long enough to give his son an inquisitive look. “I thought you might know. I’ve been trying to pry it out of her since this morning.”

  “Is she sick?”

  Marsh Senior put his hand in his pocket. “It’s hard to tell with her. She could be dying and she wouldn’t tell you she was sick ’til she was dead. My mother and I never told you about it ‘cause you were young and it would’ve worried you, but she had a cancer scare when you were away at school in the seventh grade. She didn’t even tell me she was sick until after her chemo was over.”

  A pit of dread formed in Marsh’s stomach, giving legs to some of his biggest fears. He hadn’t known just what she might pull, but he wouldn’t put it past Maw Maw to do exactly as his father described. Marsh pushed aside thoughts of how he would feel if she didn’t live to see his wedding.

  “Krista told me they stopped coming to dinner for a while. What the hell happened there?”

  His father threw him another pointed look. “Nobody knows.”

  Marsh shook his head, wracking his brain again to figure out all of the secrecy, to try to piece together the puzzle.

  “See?” his father said. “This is why I don’t get involved.”

  They kept walking up the steps.

  “You meet this Ashley woman your mother’s seeing?” Marshall Senior asked, feigning casual interest in his ex-wife’s girlfriend.

  “Uh-uh, “Marsh confirmed. “Tonight will be the first time.”

  “You think they’re serious?” his father pressed, more than a little winded when he reached the top of the stairs.

  “Honestly, Dad? I have no idea.”

  Marshall Senior chuffed out a humorless little laugh. “You’re right,” he said, as if his son had given him a solid “no” instead of a tentative “maybe”. “…Last year it was that Sarah woman. They can’t have been together for long. I mean, really, how committed to one another could she and Ashley be?”

  In the twenty years since their divorce, Marshall Senior had never remarried, never gotten serious about anybody, never even brought a date to any family event. But because Maw Maw ran things, and loved her ex-daughter-in-law dearly, Kate was always welcome in Maw Maw’s house and had been a holiday guest every single year.

  Unlike his father, his mother had no qualms about bringing home whoever she was dating at the time. Marsh had speculated over the years that his mother’s partners were either a little bit crazy or too rubbernecking for their own good. What kind of person agreed to spend the holidays with their girlfriend’s ex-husband and ex-mother-in-law? The kind of person who liked a good train wreck, that’s who.

  “What about you, dad? Are you seeing anyone?” Marsh suspected that he knew the answer and that the answer would once again make him sad. His mother’s relationships may not have been long or meaningful or with the kind of people Marsh wanted her to end up with, but at least she gave herself a chance.

  “No one special,” came his father’s pat answer. They reached the bedroom that Marshall Senior always stayed in when he visited. Too distracted by the task at hand, any platitudes Marsh had for his father died on his tongue when the door closed.

  “It’s all ready.” Marshall Senior said as he locked the door behind him and strode to retrieve a package from the dresser drawer.

  Marsh’s heart raced as he joined his father. The hexagonal ring box in fine, dark leather was new, but the ring was vintage. It had been his mother’s, and Maw Maw’s before that. It was the one heirloom that had survived the fall, then the revival, of his family. The art deco band flared to contain twin butterflies that formed the setting for the stunning asscher cut center stone. Jada would love this ring. He’d always considered it a good omen that butterflies were her favorite animal. Now, all he had to get her to do was say yes.

  The “business trip” Marsh had gone on the month before had been entirely made-up. He’d gone to New York to see the ring. His father had taken him to the jeweler the Brewsters had used for more than five decades to get it ready. He’d had it cleaned and had resized the ring to fit the same as the one he’d stolen from Jada’s jewelry box. After he’d left New York, Marsh had traveled to Los Angeles to pay a visit to Jada’s family.

  Because it was the 21st century, he hadn’t asked Jada’s father for her hand in marriage. He had sat down with both of her parents and told them that he knew what happiness they had always wished for their daughter. He told them of his plans to ask her to marry him and promised that, if Jada were to accept his proposal, he’d always support her dreams and be there for her through thick and thin. Marsh had also
told them that he’d provide for her. He hadn’t been specific, but he’d assured them that he had a nest-egg and that they’d never have to worry about money. In retrospect, Marsh realized there had been enough of a wink, wink, nudge, nudge to the whole thing that Jada may really be the last person in this whole equation to be clued into the truth.

  “It’s…” Words failed Marsh as he took in the sparkling ring. The room was dim but the diamond glowed somehow, as if it were lit from within.

  “Yeah,” Marshall Senior agreed, captivated by the ring himself, staring at it for a long, wondrous moment before he looked back at his son. “I know it won’t mean much coming from me, given how things turned out between me and mom…but that ring is special. We were very happy once.”

  Marsh remembered those days. For some reason, he’d been thinking about them a lot—his parents happy and in love, and the love between Maw Maw and Paw Paw.

  “What was your secret to making it work? You know, until it didn’t?” Marsh asked his dad.

  Marshall Senior looked over with the saddest look he’d ever given his son. “Integrity. I lost everything that mattered to me the second I stopped being honest.”

  Seven

  The New Arrivals

  Jada

  “Encinitas,” Jada repeated for the fifth time to Uncle Peter. He cupped his hand behind his good ear and leaned in even closer.

  “Say again?”

  “Encinitas,” she repeated, a bit louder.

  “Costa Rica?” he asked. It was his fourth bad guess.

  Peter turned to his nephew for clarification. In the ten minutes since Marsh’s Uncle Peter had come in the room, Jason hadn’t left the man’ side. Jason also hadn’t once stopped thumbing the screen of his phone. He seemed to be browsing articles on Fox News.

  “She’s Spanish?” Peter asked loudly, by then thoroughly confused.

  “She’s from California.”

  “She’s Mexican?”

  “Los Angeles,” Peter said loudly, and slowly.

  “Ah, Los Angeles!” Peter smiled as he turned his attention back to Jada. “Great town. Back in the fifties, I spent a little time there. You ever stay at The Beverly Hills Hotel?”

  Jada simply smiled and nodded.

  “I lived there one summer. We did some business with the costume shops at the studios back then. It was like sleeping on a movie set.” Jada’s smile widened as he leaned in. His hearing may have been bad, but his eyes were sharp and it was plain to see that he had an active mind.

  “Grace Kelly, Lauren Bacall…all the beautiful women were there,” he proclaimed with a flourish of his hand. “You know how many times I drank with the Rat Pack? I can’t get into the details, but I once helped Elizabeth Taylor out of a precarious situation.”

  Jada raised an eyebrow and nodded in approval.

  “Telling cheeky stories again, are we, Uncle Peter?” came an English-accented voice from the direction of the doorway. The dull roar of all other talking stopped. Jason stopped thumbing. Minnie glared openly at the new arrival, who ignored her completely in favor of beaming Uncle Peter a warm, playful look.

  Marsh’s mother was as chic as ever in crocodile pants and obscenely impractical shoes. Her hair had been expertly colored from its usual silver to stunning ombre layers of purples and blues. The dramatic bow on her plum-colored woolen coat made her look like Christmas had just come early. Jada guessed it sort of had—things were always more interesting with Marsh’s mother around.

  Placing her cup down, Jada stood, eager to greet the woman and relieved to see a familiar face. Genuine smiles and hugs confirmed that Kate was loved by all. All except for Minnie, who received a kiss so perfunctory that Jada might have been embarrassed for her if Minnie herself hadn’t seemed displeased to be on the receiving end.

  Second to last in line was Uncle Peter, who Kate gently commanded to keep his seat. “Looking better every year, old chap,” she said affectionately as she clasped his hands.

  When Kate finally turned her attention to Jada, her smile widened by degrees and she enveloped Jada into a long, swaying hug.

  “Radiant as ever, darling,” Kate murmured as they embraced, then pulled back and kept Jada’s hands in hers. “Is it any wonder that my son is in love with you?”

  “I’m glad to see you,” Jada smiled just as Kate took her arm and began walking her toward the hors d’oeuvre table.

  “I’ll just bet you are…” Kate murmured too low for the others to hear over conversations that had picked back up. “First time meeting Maw Maw?”

  Jada nodded. “She hasn’t made an appearance yet.”

  Kate hummed in understanding. “Don’t let her smell fear. Stand your ground early on and she’ll respect you for a lifetime.”

  Jada must have seemed miffed for the look that crossed Kate’s features then. She stopped short. “Don’t tell me Marsh didn’t warn you…”

  “No, he did,” Jada insisted quickly, before quietly admitting, “I’m just…not sure I believed him.”

  Kate picked up a cracker and chewed thoughtfully, as if there were something she were working out to say. Words seemed more on the tip of her tongue as she swallowed. Jada waited in anticipation for more advice at the same moment as Marsh’s elated voice sounded from just next to them.

  “Mom.”

  Kate had saved her warmest of hugs for her only child. Marsh’s expression relaxed as he breathed his mother in and Jada forgot for a moment that she was annoyed. Few things were sweeter than a grown-ass-man who loved his mom.

  “Unicorn’s a good look on you.” He complimented her hair.

  “Of course it is, darling. I’m made of magic.”

  “Apparently she’s made of modesty, too,” Marshall Senior chimed in.

  Jada watched the ensuing silent exchange with interest. She’d met them separately, but had never seen them in the same room together before. Kate and Marshall Senior couldn’t take their eyes off of one another. It was fascinating to watch—the mute conversation that felt so intimate Jada almost thought she should leave the room. Was this how she and Marsh would be after they’d known each other for thirty years? You know, except for the part where they’d be divorced? Marsh looked over his mother’s shoulder, breaking up their stare.

  “I thought you were gonna bring Ashley…” he said.

  Kate slipped her coat off of her shoulders and waved a hand toward the door.

  “Oh, Ash is getting our bags out of the car…He should be here any minute.”

  “He?” Marsh and Marshall Senior said in unison just as a tall, bespectacled man with a bohemian look about him appeared just outside of the double-doors. He sported a tan, and bright blond hair that was pulled back into a disorganized man bun. Layered beneath his fine gray jacket was a wheat-colored vest that might have been suede. It buttoned once over a strategically-wrinkled white linen shirt. The sleeves of the jacket itself were rolled up, revealing a silk pinstripe lining in lighter browns and beiges that matched his vest. Full ink on both forearms snaked down toward his hands, where he easily held two heavy-looking Louis Vuitton duffels.

  “Evening, everyone," Ashley said in a voice a bit like velvet. Everything about him emanated peace. Perhaps that was why he took his time, making eye contact, one by one, with everyone in the room, including the baby. His gaze became warmer when it fell upon Kate. "Where can I take these?"

  "Set them down for now. Come in, love. I want you to meet everybody."

  Three things happened quickly, then: Susie shot Kate a look of approval. Marsh poured his father a double, and Minnie’s face went from pink to red.

  Kate did the same with Ashley as she had done for herself moments before: started with the family closest to the door and made her way around. By the time she and Ashley made it back to where she had been, Marshall Senior had poured his father another.

  Standard pleasantries were exchanged, though it was clear from Ashley's comfort that he'd been primed with far more information about them than they h
ad about him. He complemented Jada’s social justice work, mentioned to Marshall Senior that he’d stayed at one of the resorts his hospitality group managed. He even asked Marsh whether he might talk to him later about legal advice.

  “What kind of advice?”

  “I live on a farm, but I’ve had some troubles with my neighbors. I’d like to understand my goats’ rights.”

  Marsh blinked in astonishment. Jada nearly spit out a sip of her drink.

  "And what exactly do you do?" Marsh pressed.

  "I'm a shaman."

  By then, no one else in the room was pretending not to listen. Conversation had quieted, and the other occupants had inched even closer.

  "He's a Brahmin?" Peter asked Jason, not nearly as quietly as he might have imagined.

  "He teaches yoga," Jason hollered.

  "I'm a human rights attorney,” Marsh interjected, the expression on his face having gone from annoyed to perturbed. “I don’t think I can help with your goat situation.”

  “Human rights…goat’s rights…they’re all the same.”

  Ashley cast Kate a glowing look. “We’re all people, right, my love?”

  March’s jaw was clenched as he asked his next question. "I'm in the market for a new shaman. How much does a good one run?"

  "Ignore him, darling." Kate was speaking to Ashley but looking at Marsh. "Sometimes he loses track of his manners. I'm confident he'll find them again by dinner."

  A minute later, Kate had led Ashley to the hors d'oeuvres table, Marshall Senior had excused himself from the room, and Marsh approached Jada with caution. She didn’t know whether to feel sorrier for him or for herself. All those years, she’d taken every piece of information he’d given her about his family—about his upbringing—at face value, yet he’d hidden half of it and forced her to find out like this.

  But he looked run through the wringer, and not just because he was in the dog house with her. He hadn’t been wrong about his family. Half of them really did seem unstable, and, even as a newcomer, she could see some ugly things were going on.