Ewan selects a piece of chicken, then asks, “Was there one thing they agreed on at all?”
“Hmm, I think they all agreed the food was ‘lovely.’”
“Considering it was the opposite…”
“Who serves Cornish game hen instead of turkey on Thanksgiving? I could actually sense your mom trying to impress people by being edgy, but my parents are pretty salt of the earth people.”
“Don’t get me started. She’s been pulling shit like that since I was little.”
“And why on earth was there no alcohol? I was dying!”
“My mom didn’t want to appear to be a lush in front of your parents.”
“This is only the second or third time they’ve met. Alcohol makes everything easier.” Milena takes the banana split, two corresponding spoons and walks into the bedroom, sits down on the padded bench and pats a seat across from her.
Ewan follows, his hands full of plate and drinks in hand, and sets the bounty between them. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
“Look, I realize this is a classic case of ‘first world problems,’ but I’m not sure I want my wedding day to be the most awkward event to ever happen. We deserve more.”
Ewan responds by grabbing his iPad and quickly opens Kayak.com. He types in a few details and says, “Southwest can get us there tomorrow – no problem. We can even drop off the car at the airport.”
“What time?”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
Placing her nearly finished sundae aside on top of the mini bar, Milena says, “I think I’m supposed to be trying on dresses with both of our mothers at that time tomorrow. Let me consult The Schedule.”
She walks over to the tastefully decorated ‘welcome bag’ that was waiting in their room and pulls out a piece of paper.
“Dear God, I forgot about that.”
Milena recites from the page in a faux British accent, “Brunch in the lobby from 9:30-10:30, then a half hour ‘freshen up,’ then travel to the first wedding dress shop. It’s one of the four I have an appointment at. Kill me now.”
“And what am I supposed to be doing while you’re busy?”
“No fair! You’re booked for a ‘gentleman’s grooming package’ at the spa!”
Ewan stands up, takes the paper from Milena’s hands and sets the document on the nightstand. Taking her hands in his, he says, “When I asked you to marry me three months ago, I meant it. I knew our engagement would involve both of our crazy parents and maybe some headaches down the road, but, Milena Elizabeth Cogan, would you marry me tomorrow, forsaking all others and the opinions that will rain down upon us from our combination of crazy relatives?”
She looks down at the paper, then squeezes his hands and answers, “I will.”
They bound back over to the bed, and within minutes have booked tickets to Las Vegas. With confirmation passes waiting in their inboxes, Milena clasps a hand on her cheek and asks dramatically, “What am I going to wear?”
“What do you want to wear?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter, I’m sure we can find something when we get there.”
“Where do you want to stay?”
Milena closes her eyes and then says, “Paris!”
“Your wish is my command. Let me check the prices.”
“So, we’re really doing this?”
“Unless you’d rather go through months of passive aggressive behavior… I think, yes, we’re going to get married on Saturday.”
“I’m being serious. This is not something we can undo.”
“Who says I would want to?”
“Ewan, can you be serious for two seconds?”
“Fine, look, I want to marry you. End of story. I don’t care if it’s on a beach, in a plane, in a cathedral or with all our friends and family.”
Milena moves closer to her fiancé on the bed and leans on his shoulder. Stroking his forearm gently, she says, “I can’t wait.”
“Me either.”
“Because, you know what? It’s our life. Not theirs. Maybe we can have a big party at Christmas and let them feel involved. So, how on earth are we going to break the news to them?”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I think they’ll know something’s up when you don’t show up for brunch in the morning.”
“Can you have a work emergency?”
“I don’t think they’ll believe me.”
“So, we’re adult enough to make the decision to elope, but we’re too afraid to tell our parents?”
“Something like that…”
“How about we text them from the airport?” Ewan suggests.
“Could we tell them we got sick from eating the game hens?”
“Wouldn’t they come check on us? I don’t know about your Mom, but mine would be at the door with a bag full of ‘remedies’ from CVS.”
Ewan chews on his bottom lip before he says, “Do you not want to tell them anything?”
“What? Don’t you think they would sound the alarm if they found us missing?”
“Well…what are we going to say?”
“Why not tell them the truth?” Milena asks.
“What if they come after us?”
“So what? There are too many places we could be.”
“So, total social media black out?”
Milena nods and says, “Yes – well, at least until we make it official.”
Ewan stands up to consult the schedule and says, “Look right here, we could be back by Sunday’s scheduled lunch. We could have some sort of ‘celebration’ with them then.”
“Could we?”
“I don’t see any reason why not to. They’ll both be here. In fact, the past half day has proven that for our sanity we need to do it.” Ewan clicks and types a few more buttons on his computer and says, “And now Paris is set.”
“How much?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re married.”
More money conscious than her fiancé, Milena asks, “Will I be mad?”
Rather than give an exact number, Ewan says, “It’s our wedding! We can afford it. Plus, then we’ll be able to say silly things like, ‘We’ll always have Paris.’”
“Point taken.”
“Should I arrange for a limo to pick us up?”
“Ewan – enough! So, what are we going to do about rings?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to need wedding rings!”
Ewan snaps his fingers and says, “But a moment, my bride to be.” He rushes over to the trolley the food was brought in on and pulls the high gloss napkin ring (an appropriately bejeweled object) and rushing back to Milena’s side, offer the object on one knee.
She slides the ‘ring’ onto her left finger and while, of course it is too big, she is touched by the gesture. Helping Ewan up, she says, I’m sure we’ll find some when we get there.”
Kissing her temple gently, he tucks an arm around her and says, “Everything is going to be fine – just you wait.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
November 29, 1:13 P.M.
Ewan walks into the suite, alone. All of the plans and hopes he and Milena had laid out in this room now seem silly and immature. His mother follows behind him and sits on the small sofa. Placing her designer bag down, she asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
Hannah MacManus sits, immaculately dressed in her Chanel suit and finally says, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I hope you know what’s happening is for the best.”
“How? How is it possibly for the best? Milena left me. We went to get married and she couldn’t go through with our plans.”
“Aren’t you glad you know this now instead of closer to the actual wedding?”
“No. Anyway, it’s my fault – I pushed her into this whole crazy adventure.”
Hannah chooses not to respond.
“Why didn’t you a
nd Dad work out?”
“I’ve told you…”
“No, I think you’ve given me the sanitized version. I’ve just had my heart completely broken, so how about you give me the real story?”
“Fine, but you needn’t be so demanding.”
“Mother…” Ewan finishes desperately, “Please.”
“We were married too young.”
“How old were you?”
“You already know the answer to this.”
“Indulge me. In case you missed it, I’m kind of having a crisis over here.”
“Quit being so melodramatic. You’re in your twenties – this is one of your first long term girlfriends – I think you’ll survive. Anyway, as you are well aware, your father and I met in college. Things were a bit different back then. Although we would have come to the logical conclusion anyway, realizing you were coming along did speed up our own wedding plans.”
“If you could, would you do it differently?”
“Absolutely not. My point is something else entirely. My point is that the person you are in your early twenties may become someone else completely different than your thirties or forties. Do I regret marrying your father? No. We created you, and for that I am eternally thankful.”
“But you’re saying Milena and I might have ended up like you and Dad.”
“Yes, and I don’t want you to experience that pain.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“However, it’s not entirely impossible, but maybe she’ll come back.”
“You can’t honestly mean that. You never liked her!”
“That’s not true at all. Furthermore, if you love her, then there must be many good things about her. I simply don’t know her that well. I think you just scared her. If she doesn’t come back, then it wasn’t meant to be.”
“You think she might come back?”
“Would you want her to?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What exactly happened while you were there? You haven’t given me a lot of details.”
“It started when we went to go get the license, she started worrying about all of the details – that she didn’t have a dress, or flowers, or her friends… I think she got overwhelmed.”
Although she’s hiding it well, Hannah cannot help but be devastated for her son. Trying to keep her tone neutral, she asks, “Have you tried contacting her yet?”
“I sent her a text when I landed.”
“She might still be in Vegas?”
“I’m not sure.”
“We could ask her parents. Maybe they’ve heard from her.”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you feel like doing today?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go to the beach.”
“You hate the beach.”
“But there’s something liberating about being there. What do you say?”
Ewan considers his possibilities and although he feels like doing nothing more than drinking himself into a coma, it’s been a long time since his mother showed affection like this. He senses how hard she’s trying, knows emotion doesn’t come easily to her and answers, “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
December 2, 5:00 A.M.
Ken Thomas cannot sleep. Upon receiving the letter from Brendan months ago, he’s made and canceled a reservation at the Winchester numerous times. When he finally committed to today, he felt silly requesting the room where his former client passed away, but is glad he followed his instinct. In this room, he can hopefully connect with closure surrounding his feelings towards Brendan Sullivan. When Ken first heard the news so many months ago about Brendan’s death, he was surprised that his initial feeling was guilt. Although it had been Brendan who had left him, who had dropped him when the big agents came knocking, Ken still felt remorse for the actor. Brendan’s death had further motivated Ken to look after and seek help for some of his own troubled clients.
If Ken had looked past his own feelings of hurt and frustration, would he have been able to get through to his former client?
He lies awake in the bed, wondering what is supposed to happen next. Feeling silly, Ken asks, “Brendan, are you there?”
Ever since receiving the letter, he’s not been sleeping well. The letter, postmarked August, was an unexpected surprise. Since then, no matter what Ken tries, he cannot stop thinking of the note from beyond the grave.
What does it mean?
Did Brendan really write it? Ken recognizes the handwriting, but still has a difficult time coming to grips with the message. Reaching over to the worn piece of paper on the bed stand, he reads the letter again:
Ken,
i don’t have words. there are words i have but they are all stuck in my brain, where they’ve been for at least ten years. so it’s too late, too late to tell you to speak to say to anything. i was a dick, wasn’t i? you were nice to me and helped and what did i do? you took a chance on a poor nobody and what did i give you? it’s not much but i want you to be happy. i think a long time ago i was lucky you were in my life – do you remember how we first met? you saw me, you saw my potential, you saw some idiot kid from ohio and you took a chance on him.
i hope wherever you are you are happy.
i can’t say i’m sorry enough
The postmark on the envelope didn’t reveal much except the city (Beverly Hills) and date (August 15th). After receiving it, Ken had called the hotel and demanded to know who was playing a prank on him, but no one knew anything about the letter. Not knowing who found the letter didn’t discourage Ken, but he wanted someone to tell him how the letter came to be found.
Lost as ever, Ken looks around the room again – hoping an answer will present itself.
Ken isn’t alarmed Brendan’s spirit might be lurking around. In fact, deep down, perhaps he’s kind of hoping for some sort of supernatural interaction. This is Hollywood, after all, and stranger things have happened.
“Hello?” he asks to the empty space, not expecting a response, “Brendan?”
Unexpectedly, the radio comes to life next to Ken. As the notes filter into Ken’s head, he recognizes the song which plays is the main track of the soundtrack to the film from Brendan’s big break. Ken hasn’t listened to the tune in years. For a very long time, he didn’t want anything which reminded him of the rising star. To Ken, Brendan represented perhaps the most valuable lesson the agent had ever learned in his career. No one was to be trusted.
The lyrics wash over him.
Was this the universe’s way of reminding him he could end up dying alone in a hotel room? Did he need to do a better job making amends with people he faulted in his career? Was it finally time to let go of the grudge he had been holding against Brendan?
Ken switches off the radio and sits in silence. Reaching out for the letter, he looks at it one more time, then rips the paper up and throws the remains in the small trashcan next to the desk.
In the morning, he’s going to review his clients and reach out to those he knows are in need of help. He’s not going to let another tragedy occur on his watch.
“Goodbye, Brendan – rest in peace. May you find what you were looking for.”
Feeling at peace, Ken closes his eyes and goes to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
December 10, 5:55 P.M.
“And you’re sure she’s going to be okay?” Shaun asks.
“Positive. You know your parents are perfectly capable of looking after our beautiful daughter by themselves.” Chelsea holds back a smile, as she puts some things away in the closet. Shaun is much more overprotective than she thought he would be.
This is their first night away from baby Helen. Although they’ve not gone very far and can be home in a matter of twenty minutes, Chelsea thinks this night will be good for them. With her in-laws in town until the end of the month, this is also a chance to get some space and have alone time with her husband – somethin
g that has been difficult to come by over the past few months. With the gestational diabetes over and her body slowly, but surely returning to its pre-baby condition, Chelsea is happy and thankful for the things in her life. Her health, the health of her family, that they are able to get away for a night together – these are all things she appreciates.
“What do you want to do first?” Shaun asks suggestively.
Chelsea looks around the room – most likely the exact room where their daughter was conceived, and says, “A long hot bath sounds like heaven.”
If he is disappointed, Shaun does not show it and asks, “Do you want me to run it for you?”
“No, thanks for offering.”
“Do you want me to join you?”
Chelsea hesitates. While she’s remained as much of a ‘yummy mummy’ as was possible during pregnancy, genetics and other complications had led to a weight gain she wasn’t entirely ready for. Shaun still finds her attractive, but she doesn’t particularly find herself all that amazing to look at. He has been trying, suggesting and cajoling to be permitted to have intercourse again and she’s been given the all clear from the doctor to resume having sex with her husband. There have been a few attempts, but either the baby has interrupted them or she hasn’t been able to get in the mood. After a surprisingly intimate second trimester, Shaun has been patient. Tonight, she is going to relax, express some milk, have a drink and make love to her husband if it kills her.
She finally answers, “No offense, honey, but time by myself is hard to come by. I’d like to just have a nice soak.”
“No problem. In fact, why don’t I just call my parents and let them know we’re here?”
She smiles and nods, knowing he wants to check in on Helen. Closing the door behind her, she starts the water and disrobes, looking at her changed body in the mirror. There are stretch marks, parts have sagged and varicose veins are now a fact of life. Still, Chelsea knows she has a lot going for her. Forcing herself to recognize her best features, she looks in the mirror and smiles. Shaun had always told her that the smile she gave him from across the crowded bar had felt like a beam of sunshine. She runs a hand through her hair, blonde and lustrous, she hasn’t needed to resort to changing its natural color. If pregnancy has helped anything, her A cups have moved up to Cs and while gravity is doing its best, given the right bra, they hold up just fine. Furthermore, whatever physical shortcomings she might have now cannot take the place of the beautiful child she brought into this world. She is proud of herself and of them. She wants to prove to her husband that his patience has been worth it — that she appreciates everything he’s done for her.
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