The Gideon Affair

by Halliday, Suzanne

  Having a small, intimate family ceremony was perfect for them. The only people who needed to witness their exchange of vows were going to be there. They’d take care of everyone else after the movie wrapped. Maybe hold a shindig in Santa Barbara.

  Carolyn and Patsy would be peeved that they weren’t here. So would Mickey, Shirley, and a whole slew of people who were a part of their daily lives, but this wasn’t about anyone but Edward and her. Five people plus the justice were quite enough thanks.

  “Hey, pretty lady.” A firm grip took hold of her ankle and squeezed. “Got room for me?”

  Edward maneuvered into the big hammock and held her while they spooned and swayed in the soft night air.

  “Happy?”

  “Insanely. Your folks are being fantastic.”

  “I got our rings today. Wanna see ‘em?”

  Oh, my goodness. Her head turned as much it could. “Was that rings as in plural?”

  He chuckled softly and kissed her on the nose. “Why so surprised?”

  “I don’t know. I guess because guys don’t seem to care about the jewelry.”

  “This guy does. I want there to be no doubt who owns my heart.”

  “I think we have to postpone our Bora Bora honeymoon. No time to plan.”

  “What’s up on the queue after Montana? That Indie film, right? We could go after that.”

  “I’ll pencil you in, Mr. Banning. After I check with my boss.”

  “You do that. Let me know if he’s a putz and I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “Okay, but don’t you mess up my bonus. Mama needs some new shoes.”

  They laughed and giggled. Tickled, snuggled, told outrageous tales of nonsense that were straight off-the-cuff hilarious, and plotted their future. When he asked her out of the blue what her dreams were, she’d snickered until he got all kinds of serious.

  “No, for real, babe. You didn’t go to L.A. to end up as some douchebag actor’s PA.” He pressed his face into her hair and murmured, “What’s in this busy head of yours where your career dreams are concerned.”

  Gosh. Ask an easy question and get a convoluted answer. Should she be surprised that he asked? Because she wasn’t. Once he’d staked his claim, Edward became all about her happiness. If she wanted to raise llamas in Alaska, he’d agree with no problem.

  “Mmm, it’s kind of hard to explain, but there’s this whole crazy narrative in my head that makes perfect sense to me. Mostly, I think about creating something that’s never been done before. Unique. With a fresh new take on families who travel and go exploring.”

  “I’m listening. What else?”

  She wiggled and scooted, almost dumping them from the hammock until they were lying face-to-face.

  “Okay, so here it is. My grandma loved to tell this story about how she met my grandfather in a tea room at a bed and breakfast along a bumpy, back road in Georgia. I knew the story was all about them meeting for her, but I loved hearing her describe the stately old Southern mansion that sat at the end of a tree-lined drive. And how every afternoon, except on Sunday, the innkeeper served tea in what Granny called the old-fashioned way.”

  “Sounds cool.”

  “Right? Well, I think that offering people a more personalized experience than what you’d find at a Best Western, especially if the needs of the whole family were in play—not just the parents—would be tapping into an underserved niche of vacation and day trip travelers.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She smiled. If she knew him at all, he was doing more than listening; he was taking mental notes.

  “I’d like to fix up an old house and make it family friendly. Game room, stuff like that. Create guest suites instead of single rooms that would accommodate mom, dad, and kids. A B&B concept but more modern.”

  “And the tea? Would that be a part of it?”

  He really was listening.

  “Y’know, I like that whole afternoon tea, late day siesta thing. Everyone needs a chance to relax. Like naptime for adults without the eyes closed thing. So yeah, maybe not a traditional tea but some sort of … thing.”

  “Sounds awesome. Day trip with the kids? Stop at a B&B for a late day refresher. That way the parents are less likely to want to snap when they get home.”

  “Exactly!”

  The swaying continued. “You know, we could totally start checking out some properties. Maybe do a test run?”

  As drily as she could, Paige pithily replied, “ I think we have enough on our plate right now.”

  “Oh shit,” Edward hooted gleefully. “I forgot to tell you. Talked to M. In another week, this whole thing will have run its course. Long story short, you were right.”

  "Ah, ha-ha, ha-ha. Told you.”

  “By the time we get back to L.A., all this nonsense will have blown over and we can focus on other things. Like coming up with a business plan for your B&B idea and looking for a real house, not a bachelor beach-pad. Preferably something with a shit-ton of bedrooms we can work on filling with a new generation of Banning rug rats.”

  Uhhhhh … babies? Were they talking about babies? Good grief. They really were on some surreal fast track.

  She snickered. “Yes, well, we’ll negotiate on that whole gestate a human being thing. Before that, you might want to review my bonus check a few more times if you think keeping me barefoot and pregnant is a plan.”

  “Fucking golddigger.”

  “Asshole sex god.”

  They were going to make a great team.

  Breakfast at the Banning homestead when both boys were home was quite an adventure. A loud and boisterous one.

  Thrilled to see Marsh again, Edward had him in a brotherly headlock in the first five minutes they were all in the same room. To say he loved his little bro was an understatement. Marsh had been his lieutenant, sidekick, and provoker from his earliest memory. They were alike but different. Probably as it should be.

  The pancakes had flown; a slab of bacon the size a two-year-old got sliced and cooked. Two dozen eggs were prepared, and throughout it all, his mom and Paige had smiled and shook their heads. Good times.

  They were gathered around the table. Paige, of course, was on his lap, and his folks were doing that tag team thing parents did so well as they tried to pry information from Marsh who, as usual, was a font of nothing.

  “So, what does that mean, hon? Are you staying? Passing through? Heading where?”

  Moms. They knew how to get right to the heart of things.

  “Actually, Mom, I’ve got something to keep me busy. I’m calling it Project-Get-a-Life.”

  Paige snorted. Marsh had been traipsing around the globe for years following fuck knows what whims. He didn’t share much, and she knew Edward was slightly mystified about what he did with his time. And money.

  “Does this life involve getting a job?”

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from you, big brother. A job? You mean like what you do? Calling that a job now, are we?”

  “Hey, don’t be hating just ‘cause I found a way to make money and have fun.”

  They tossed off a few arm punches for good measure.

  “What? So you think flashing your pecs for all the soccer moms is better than being an astronaut? Or a writer? Isn’t that what you planned to do when you grew up?”

  “An astronaut?” Paige asked. “For real?”

  He nodded. “Yep. I wanted to be the Jack Kerouac of outer space.”

  “Don’t you mean Jules Verne?”

  Marsh cut in. “Oh, hell no! Jules wrote about fantasy. Old Ed wanted actually to ride the rockets then send dispatches that he’d authored from real experiences back to Planet Earth. It was all so futuristic when we were kids. Never too late, hmm?”

  “Well, in any case, does this new plan of yours involve settling down in one place?”

  It occurred to him as he watched his mother lazily stir her tea with a small, satisfied smile on her face that he’d taken over from them with the third degree of his broth
er. Damn, they were clever.

  Marshall cleared his throat and paused to collect some thoughts. Edward would know that contemplative expression anywhere. Paige sat straighter, aware of the change in the room. His dad stopped tapping his fingers on the table and narrowed his eyes. He wondered if having two sons had been the crazy ride Edward thought it was.

  “The thing is,” Marshall began, “I’ve got all these properties. Mostly rentals. Some still in fix-up mode and …”

  “Say again?” his mother chimed in. “You have what?”

  “Uh, did you say properties?” Paige asked.

  Edward went slack-jawed. Was this a joke? What the hell was Marsh talking about?

  “Yeah … it’s kind of like this, guys. I know y'all figured I blew Gran’s inheritance.”

  Edward went perfectly still. Gran’s inheritance. Holy shit. They’d each received a hefty chunk of cha-ching when she passed on. That was what Edward had been living on when he moved to Los Angeles. All these years they’d all assumed that when Marsh took off to Europe and basically didn’t come home for three years that he was churning and burning his share.

  “Almost right away I started building a real estate portfolio …”

  He kept talking, but Edward heard nothing after the words real estate and portfolio. Paige had always said that one day Marsh would surprise them all. Looked like that day just arrived.

  “So now, I’ve got to make some decisions about what to do next.”

  A mini-explosion went off in Edward’s head. “Hey, any of these properties be good for something like, oh, I don’t know … maybe a B&B?”

  Paige’s head was whipping back and forth between him and his brother so fast it was a wonder she didn’t get whiplash.

  "A B&B?” his mother interjected. “I like the way that sounds. What brought that up, dear?”

  Running his hand up and down Paige’s back, he slowly smiled. This was unbelievable. It was like a future of enormous possibilities that had been idle thoughts until spoken out loud were opening up all around them.

  “Paige has an idea about a chain of family-oriented guest suites,” he told his mother. Turning to Marsh, he added, “You should talk to her, bro. She’s really on to something.”

  “If it means we get to see more of you two, and now Paige, as well, I’m all for it.” His father looked like a man who just hit the jackpot with his last quarter.

  “Speaking of which,” Marsh drawled. “I’m invoking the Banning custom of kidnapping the bride before the ceremony.”

  “You’re joking, I hope.” Paige chuckled.

  His mother got the last word in this conversation. “No joke, dear. Marsh is right. All the Banning brides are waylaid right before the wedding. Last chance for a change of heart. Clarity and all that.”

  Over his dead body, Edward fumed.

  “Your parents arrive tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Bright and early. Steven’s going to pick them up.”

  They were bouncing down a dirt road that skirted along the river in an old work truck that had seen better days.

  “It’s not too late, you know.”

  She had to grin. This was fun. She’d never been kidnapped before. When Marshall had appeared in his mom’s studio with an old Lone Ranger mask on and a fake pistol that swung from a kid’s holster, she’d played her apart to the hilt. Yelling, “Save me, save me,” as Marsh tossed her over his shoulder while his mother pretended to rescue her.

  She caught sight of Edward and Steven up at the house, watching from the porch and laughing their asses off as she was dumped in the passenger seat of the old truck with a thud.

  “Yeah, it is. Too late.”

  “Why? Did that motherfucker knock you up? Is that what all the rush is about?”

  He sounded genuinely put out.

  “Where have you been, Marsh?” she quipped. “The second we got together practically everyone we knew screamed at last!”

  He swerved to avoid a large rock protruding from the ground.

  “Idiot, that one. Too busy looking at his own reflection.”

  She knew he was just kidding.

  “I’m glad you’re here. It means a lot to Edward.”

  Humph. “Is he all you think about?”

  “No. I also think about Häagen-Daz vanilla, my 401K, and occasionally Charlie Hunnam. In no particular order.”

  They pulled over at a spot far down the river from the house and got out of the truck. Finding spots to sit on a large sun-warmed rock, they talked about how beautiful it was here and how happy his parents were. Once they were talking, she questioned him about his so-called portfolio. What she discovered was quite surprising.

  “You’re full of shock and awe these days, little brother.”

  “Oh, fuck!” Marsh chuckled. “That’s right. I get a sister out of this deal. How cool is that?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Don’t change the subject. So were you ever planning on telling anyone that you turned into a mogul?”

  Pfft. “No mogul, sis. Just a guy with a head full of dreams who couldn’t hack a nine-to-five office job. I lucked out right from the beginning. That first flip was a way to work off energy, but when I made a huge profit, well …”

  Humph. She thought about everything she now knew. Working off a property-flipping whim, he’d stumbled on something he was really good at. Like his brother. They both fell face-first into an unlikely career path.

  “What do you think of my B&B plan? Think it has merit?”

  “Jeez, Paige, I think anything you do would have merit. Edward didn’t fall for you because you had big tits.”

  She slapped on the arm. Hard. “Hey! Be nice.”

  “I am being nice.” He chuckled. “It’s a compliment, lady. T and A was never what big bro was about. He needs all that fucking cerebral shit so a fiancée with a fancy degree and some shit-kicking skills? Priceless.”

  “He’s not saying so yet, but I think he’s pretty much over the whole acting thing. It wasn’t meant to be a life choice, you know.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. That shit’s fucked up, and I’m being serious when I say I don’t know how you do it.”

  She swatted a fly away and turned on the rock to face Marsh.

  “It’s all fantastic when a shoot is happening. The creative stuff is the best part, but the rest of it? Meh.”

  “Maybe it’s your turn to shine. Ever think of it that way?”

  Of course, she had, but the way Marsh put it was way too simple.

  “Eh, it’s not about being a star, or any of that. For me, it’s about using my skills. Truly. It’s not even about money.” Paige laughed and nudged Marsh. “Your dad handles my, uh, investment portfolio.” They both roared with laughter. Portfolio was the new word du jour. “Anyway, I’m good. And marrying Mr. Moneybags won’t hurt.”

  “Jesus, Paige. I saw the box office numbers for Dark Cloud and almost shit. They printing money yet with his ugly mug on it yet? I mean, what the fuck. He’s in the shitting-rainbows category now. Ya done good, girl. Real good.”

  “So I’m told, but it's just money.”

  “I hear that. Hey, mind if I ask what happened that sent you guys on a camping trip when you should be checking junk off your bridal registry and making all those fake assholes throw you engagement parties?”

  Eek. She was so over it. “I could explain, but then I’d have to obliviate your memory and I don’t think Miriam would like that.”

  “Mom and Dad were pretty torked about something when I called in a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Ugh. Paparazzi bullshit. It’s handled, though.”

  “This have anything to do with Shaw Me the Way?”

  She cringed. Well, at least now that Phae was taking responsibility, that damn tape would vanish fast, so there was that. The little detail of her age meant it was officially in the underage no-no category. Marsh correctly read her reaction when he fervently exclaimed, “It isn’t him, you know.”

  “Well, I know th
at now!” she crowed.

  “Ah, so it’s like that, is it?” Marsh nodded with approval. For a brief moment, his eyes darted around before he boomed gleefully, “Oh, man! You held him off for six fucking years?”

  He dissolved into a fit of laughter so joyful and infectious that she joined him. As their laughter rang out over the empty spaces, Marsh pulled her into a big hug then took her by surprise with a vicious noogie.

  “Hallelujah! I’m not the youngest anymore. Welcome to the family, little sister.”

  “Where is everybody?” Rose asked Edward when she came upon him all by himself in the kitchen. “It’s so quiet.”

  "Everyone scattered first thing." He held the coffee pot in his hand up for her to see. “Coffee?”

  “Immediately. Hot. Black”

  “Coming right up. You grab a chair at the table, Mrs. Turner, and I’ll get you set.”

  He was glad that she didn’t try to stand there and do small talk with him, realizing after she was halfway across the kitchen that he’d been holding his breath. Why the woman scared him shitless wasn’t much of a mystery. From the second the Turners had arrived, she’d been one hundred and ten percent redneck charming with everyone. Except him. Shit. She’d practically adopted Marsh and had his dad eating out of her palm, too.

  Dammit. Where was Paige?

  Loading a big tray with a coffee carafe, their mugs, and a plate of fresh baked blueberry scones, he silently crossed himself and prayed for some sort of divine intervention to help him get his future mother-in-law on his side. Or at the very least, comfortably adjacent.

  “We’re in luck,” he told her with hopeful friendliness. “Mom’s in a baking frenzy. Dad says he’s put on eight pounds, not that he’s complaining about all the treats. Looks like blueberries are a theme lately. Hope you like a good scone.”

  For someone who delivered carefully crafted lines for a living, you’d think he could have made that sound more eloquent than a rushed eighth-grade class report. The way she eyeballed him was a lot like a teacher who was grading and judging every word, breath, and action.