by BWWM Club
She hoped that whatever was going on between father and son, they would figure it out, otherwise she might get caught in the middle. And she had no desire to be in the middle of those two men.
Not even a little bit.
"Dad, I have come to the conclusion that you have gone completely mad. That's the only thing I can conclude from any of this. There is no other explanation."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. But I can assure you that I am still perfectly sane and perfectly capable of having this meeting, and giving my input on this acquisition. You did ask for it."
"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it," said Gerald, angrily.
George eyed his son.
He had noticed the hostility, of course. He would've had to be remarkably blind and oblivious not to notice it. He had resented it, too. He hadn't wanted Rebecca to feel unwelcome - far from it. That was why he had reached for her, kissed her, promised her what he could to soothe her. He had seen her hurt.
"All right. Tell me what you're talking about."
"That woman is a gold-digger," declared Gerald.
"And you know that because?"
"It's obvious!" blustered Gerald.
"Is it? If it's obvious, it won't be difficult to convince me of it. Go on."
"She was standing there, looking over my home as if it was hers."
"Or she was standing there and looking out the window because the landscaping is spectacular in the morning light. Son, did you imagine that I would never be involved with a woman after your mother died?"
"I... No, of course it's not that."
"You're a little too old to feel as if your mother is being replaced, aren't you?"
"And you're a little too old to be chasing after women, aren't you?" shot back Gerald.
"I'm sixty-five and still in possession of all my faculties, Gerald. I am neither old nor infirm. I trust my judgment. In this instance, you have no choice but to trust mine, too."
"Do you seriously expect me to believe that that woman just happened to find you, and just happened to have all the same interests as you, and just happened to be available and here? Please, you have never been this naive before and I don't understand why you're starting now."
"That's quite enough, Gerald. I don't know where things will go with Rebecca. But I do know that I like her. Yes, I am quite satisfied that she just happened to find me, just like I just happened to find her. I am not required to justify myself to you. I do not need your approval. I do not appreciate you making Rebecca feel unwelcome here. She is my guest. Your approval is irrelevant."
Gerald went red, that blotchy red again, and George sighed a little.
He'd made a mistake there. Gerald had never responded well to being told what to do. There was no reason to believe that he would suddenly start listening when he was told what to think.
Now he would be on a crusade against Rebecca, and that would make life uncomfortable for her - especially since he had decided that he wanted her for a lot longer than just one night.
She was delightful.
"My opinions and my judgment seem to be unwelcome here, so I will keep them to myself," said Gerald, stiffly, formally. George sighed again.
"Gerald, do you truly believe that I do not deserve to find happiness with a woman again? Or do you believe that you need to approve of the woman I find any joy with? Please, listen to yourself. I never inflicted such rules on you, even as a teenager. Why would you think that you could do so to me now?"
George was, honestly, perplexed. He had raised this boy. He and Marsha had raised their little boy to become this man. Perhaps he hadn't been as much of a hands-on father as he might have wished to be, but he hadn't been a neglectful father. Marsha had been the most loving of mothers.
There was no reason why...
"Let's not. Let's not get into this, Gerald. Understand that this choice is not yours to make, and it will never be your choice to make. Whatever Rebecca is to me, it's up to me, not you."
Gerald nodded stiffly, still glowering.
George bit his tongue, difficult though it was.
"Let's get this over with," he declared, and no more was said about Rebecca.
At least, not out loud.
Both men said a lot of things to themselves. And they both knew it perfectly well, and both felt themselves perfectly justified in all the harsh things they thought.
*****
Rebecca swam and did her yoga. She then decided that she was deeply unhappy.
She should have been happy. She resented that man for having ruined what should have been a lovely morning, a morning after a beautiful night spent in the arms of a man she was beginning to truly...
No, she wouldn't say the word, of course not. It wasn't just too early, it was too intense.
But even without saying that word, she could appreciate what he had given her - pleasure, acceptance, and joy. All things that she cherished.
But there was one thing that Rebecca considered important above everything else: family. No matter how unpleasant Gerald might be, he was George's family.
She understood that.
She knew she would never be able to be the problem in a family. She could never come between a man and his son, even if she felt the son was being an unreasonable ass. That was neither here nor there.
When George came out to her, holding a tray, she smiled a little sadly. He set it down on a table, and she walked to him and accepted the kiss he offered her.
"You remembered that I like a light breakfast."
"And no caffeine, for either of us. Tea, and fruits, and toast."
"That's perfect," she told him, and she settled down to enjoy the meal with him, pretending to herself that they had many mornings to eat together. She made herself smile, and laugh, and even talk about the cruise a little bit. She talked about how she had always wanted to see the Greek Isles, how she had always wanted to snorkel in clear water, how she had learned to swim because she planned on making that dream come true at some point.
"We can do all of that," he told her, but she knew that they couldn't. She gave herself an hour, a beautiful hour on that golden morning, before she accepted reality.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to George.
"Gerald does not like me."
"He's a little overprotective and more than a little overbearing."
"He loved his mother, didn't he?"
"Of course. Marsha was... well, the more hands-on parent."
"Then I can understand how he resents another woman being in this house."
"Rebecca, I'm not sure how to put it, but it's not as if I lived like a monk for the last couple of years. I mourned Marsha deeply for a long time. I still do. But I also believe in living my life."
Rebecca smiled.
"But were any of them your age, and not particularly beautiful?"
"You're beautiful."
"Not conventionally. Not the kind of beauty you see in magazines. Over sixty and black is not exactly the kind of look fashion magazines put on their front pages."
"That's because they don't know any better."
"Nonetheless. I am the only woman you have brought home, you have introduced to your friends and family, who didn't make sense to him. A man who is lonely but needs comfort and affection might turn to beautiful women. You could have your pick of beautiful women. You brought me home. Do you not see how that threatens him, and his memories of his mother, and his idea of what his home is?"
George looked away stubbornly, and for a second Rebecca could see where Gerald got that look.
"He's a grown man with his own home."
"And yet, this is his home, and will always be, too. He reminds me of some of my students. Gerald might be a very intelligent, very responsible man, but in some ways..."
"He's acting sixteen right now," said George grumpily.
"He is, but he is your son. George, I cannot see you again."
George looked stunned. He could not
have looked more stunned if she had slapped him.
"Rebecca, you don't mean that."
"Unreasonable or not, family is family. Our children never stop being our children. They never stop being our priority. I... If your son is so unhappy with me, if he's so hostile towards me, it will create friction among everybody. I don't want any of that conflict in my life, George. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I'd created that conflict in the life of somebody I have so much affection for, either."
"You're really going to stop seeing me because my son is acting like... this."
George sounded absolutely incredulous, and Rebecca supposed she could understand why. He was not a man who had had to deal with being told no very often. In some ways, it appeared that father and son were quite similar.
"I'm not saying... I'm saying, I guess, that I cannot be involved with you like this. I value you, and our friendship. I want to be your friend. But I can't be in your home, be introduced as your companion, be by your side as I was last night. That is no longer something I can do."
It hurt more than she expected. It hurt far more than she'd thought it would.
She wanted to take it back, every word. She wanted to...
"Rebecca."
"Please. If you could make him understand, then... I don't know how to... I'm not good with dealing with hostility in my personal life, George. If we date, I cannot avoid Gerald. I don't want to be like that. But every time we meet, I'll have to deal with... I'm sorry. He is your son. I am your friend. Can't that be enough, for now?"
"It appears that I have no choice on either front," he told her stiffly, and the morning stopped being so golden.
"You did what?"
Grace didn't shout. In fact, Grace was very calm and measured.
That was a very bad sign. When Grace shouted, it was reassuring, like a summer storm. When Grace was calm, it meant that things were about to be broken, and those things could, possibly, be skulls.
"I... It was an untenable situation," defended Rebecca, wondering if they would be banned from their favorite restaurant at this rate.
They would definitely be banned from their special Sunday brunch, if Grace exploded as magnificently as she usually did after one of her calm patches.
"Untenable situation? Because his son was being a complete dickhead? Which agrees with everything that I've heard about him. He treats that wife of his like an employee. Something..."
"Bethany. She's lovely."
"She is. She is the perfect wife - organizes his life, his events, the perfect hostess. Perfect in every way. I've run into them at events and never seen him treat her with anything approaching any kind of warmth."
"He doesn't seem like a particularly nice person," agreed Rebecca, trying hard to be as objective as possible.
"But Becca," said Lillian, looking troubled, "how do you feel about George?"
"I like him. I like him a lot. We spent the night together. No, I'm not going to give you any details, but it was wonderful, and he's wonderful, and he wants me to go on a cruise with him."
"Oh. Do you want to go?"
"Of course I do!"
"Lill, our friend is an idiot. Did you ever realize just how big an idiot our friend is? I used to think she was pretty sensible, but..."
"I met Tony," interrupted Rebecca desperately. She did not like the direction this conversation was taking. She had met her friends for moral support and comfort, for reassurance that she had done the right thing. She'd expected that it would take Grace a while to come around to her point of view, but she had expected Lillian to understand. Lillian was very good at understanding, generally.
Apparently not this time.
"Who gives a fuck about Tony? Not me. Do you, Lill?"
Lillian shook her head.
"I'm afraid I don't, Becca. I don't understand. You have been alone for ten years. I know, you have us, and you have Phyllis and Annabelle, and that's wonderful. But you had such a great relationship with Roger. The two of you, you were a unit. You were different then - you were more... I don't know. You glowed."
"I loved him."
"Do you think it would be a betrayal if you loved somebody else?" asked Lillian, obviously trying to understand.
Rebecca shook her head.
"Honestly, no. No, I don't think so. He would be mad if he thought I wasn't living my life just because he was dead, actually."
Lillian nodded.
"That's exactly what Roger would be like. So why are you closing yourself off from something that has made you live again? You've been different the last couple of weeks, Becca. You've started to glow again. Why would you turn your back on all of that just because Gerald Walters is a bit of a..."
"Dickhead," supplied Grace.
"That's the word. Does George believe that this is the right thing to do?"
Rebecca hesitated, but she shook her head.
"Then... I know you don't like dealing with conflict. You've dealt with enough conflict to last a whole lifetime and then a few more lifetimes. But... Look, why don't you go on that cruise?"
"What? Haven't you been listening to me? I broke up with him!"
Rebecca wondered if her friends might be going senile. A bit too young for it, but it happened.
"No, that's a great idea," decided Grace, agreeing with Lillian, and Rebecca knew she was defeated. When her friends agreed with each other, it usually meant that she was toast.
"You can go away from here, away from this whole situation," explained Grace, "and you can really figure out how you feel. The only thing you will have to worry about is how you feel. If you go on a cruise with George and you realize that what you really want is to be with him, well, we'll figure out a way to neutralize Gerald."
"Not neutralize as in kill," clarified Lillian, though Grace didn't look as if she particularly appreciated the clarification.
"We can figure it out. We can send him to therapy. We can figure out what his problem is and solve it. Every problem has a solution, doesn't it? So, there we go. It's a solution. W will figured it out."
Lillian and Grace sat back, looking very proud of themselves.
"That's... That's actually..."
That's what she wanted to hear, realized Rebecca.
She had wanted to be convinced that she had been wrong.
And her friends had done that. The idea of going on a cruise with George was a little scary, but...
"Carpe diem, Beck. It's time. So now, for the second time in this short relationship, you will have to call this poor man and explain to him that the woman he's gone and gotten involved with can be an absolute idiot at times."
"Thanks," said Rebecca wryly, as her friends high-fived each other.
"Now," said Grace, turning back to Rebecca, "on to more important things. We need to go shopping. You need appropriate things for the cruise - things that will absolutely knock him back on his heels and keep him coming back for more until you have to push him away so you can get some sleep."
Rebecca laughed and buried her face in her hands.
"I don't know what to do with you. And I don't know what to do without you."
She let her friends make all her plans, as she wondered how she was going to explain to George, yet again, that she had been wrong - and worrying, just a little, whether he would take her back this time.
Chapter 10
Rebecca took a deep breath and sat in her car, outside his gates.
It seemed like the thing to do. Of course, she could have called, but that didn't seem good enough, not for the way she had left.
Those gates looked a lot more intimidating this time, without him by her side. Well, there was nothing to do but to go for it. There was an intercom of some sort next to the gate. He’d said that he didn’t have full time staff, except for Rick, so she wasn’t sure what to expect. She leaned out, pressed the button.
“Please enter your code.”
Well, she didn’t have a damn code, so there was nothing for it but to call George
.
Sighing, she was about to call when her phone rang.
“Rebecca? Are you outside my gates?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on, I’ll open them.”
The gates swung open, silently yet somehow sinister. Resigned, she drove in. It wasn’t to her doom, unless Gerald happened to be home, in which case she would…
Well, they’d all find out.
George was waiting for her. He even opened the door for her.
“I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I know. I…”
It hurt to see him. The distance he deliberately kept between them hurt her even more.
“Can I talk to you?”
“I’m here. I’m listening.”
She sighed and nodded.
“Well, I… I did some thinking.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Can we talk inside?”
“I have a better idea. Come.”
She followed him, and realized that the grounds were even bigger than they’d seemed to be. Was that a fountain? There was an actual fountain. It was a bit surreal that people actually lived with that much wealth.
The gift she had in her bag for him seemed pretty small and insignificant.
He sat down on a bench and patted the spot next to him. Rebecca sat, carefully leaving just the same distance between them that he’d been keeping all along.
“I got something for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She dug around in her bag, found the little package and offered it to him.
“It’s nothing much.”
“I’m sure it’s great.”
He opened it, and sat there, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“You got me loafers.”
“They’re not great loafers or anything. They’re just… Well, apparently you must have loafers if you go on a cruise.”
“Really?”
“It’s practically a rule.”
“I hadn’t known that.”
“It is. I asked around. And, well, the thing is, I would like to go on a cruise with you. But I want it to be a cruise I can afford, and I want to pay for my share of it.”
George looked at her thoughtfully.
“Is that how you feel?”