“She could do a lot worse.” He tipped his beer to Anson, enjoying the brotherly bonding moment. Anson looked different to him. Chase had seen him in all phases of life, including the last couple years where most months, Chase was the only company Anson received. “The photos on the internet were of you two walking outside. You’ve been, you know, getting out of the house?”
Anson nodded, not meeting his brother’s eyes. He wished that was not a question that needed asking. There were a few times Chase visited that Anson had lost track of the month, greeting his brother with a scraggly beard and unwashed clothing. “Etta’s been helping me.”
“Well, good for you, brother. I’m not gonna lie. I was a little freaked when I saw your note. Jordan didn’t even know where you went. You just disappeared. Kinda thought you might be in a morgue next time I saw you. Pretty relieved to see that picture on the internet.”
Anson said nothing to this. It was very possible he might have died without Etta to let him in out of the cold. The path he had been heading down was a dark one. In the back of his mind, it was his last attempt at trying to find peace. If that had not worked, he was not sure what would have happened to him.
The two played video games while Chase weaseled more and more information about Etta out of Anson. When it was time for him to go see his new agent, Anson was surprised to find that he had spent the morning with his brother, and had not hated it.
Onions and Presents
LA was very different from her mountains. For one, no one looked at each other, unless they were familiar already. The warm climate was nice, but the air quality was vastly different than what she was used to. She spent the afternoon walking around the nearest park, enjoying the scenery and trying to get a feel for the pace of life. Then she went grocery shopping, making her way home two hours after she left.
The gate code and the garage code and the house code were difficult to keep straight, but she managed. Anson was still not back from his meeting, but Chase was enjoying his free reign of the house, flipping around the channels when Etta entered through the side door. “Here, let me get those.” He made himself useful, helping her unload the trunk and put the groceries away, teaching her which shelves were for what. “If you’re going to live here, might as well know the ropes.”
“Thanks. I’m still getting used to it.” Etta started chopping vegetables to go with the roast, grateful that Chase saved her some time by pointing out the location of the necessary tools for her. The kitchen was a well-put-together maze she still did not fully understand the ins and outs of. “So, tell me about yourself. You’re Anson’s half-brother on his mother’s side. That’s about all I know.”
“Anson didn’t tell you I’m the freeloader with a habit? That seems off. I thought you two were close.”
Etta did not know how to respond to this. “Is that what you want to tell me about yourself?”
Chase sized her up with a skeptical eye. “You’re good. Anson tells me you used to run a Bed and Breakfast.”
“I still own that business. I just have someone working for me now so I can be here.” She reached for the potatoes and began chopping them. “And, nice try. I asked you about you, not what you know about me.”
“Smarter than the fake fiancées, I’ll give you that. Let’s see. I’m younger than Anson by three years. Just started a new business I can’t wait to tell you two about over dinner. It’s already going well. Single. Just moved in with a friend about fifteen miles west of here while I save up for a place of my own. He’s my business partner.” He sniffed. “And for the record, I’ve been clean for seven months. Anson doesn’t give me enough credit.”
“Anson cares about you. And good for you for getting your life together.” She motioned to the onions. “Help me chop those, will you?”
“Huh? Um, I don’t cook, sweetheart.”
“And I thought you were a hard-working entrepreneur. Anson cooks now. Did he tell you that?”
Chase laughed at the mental image of his brother in an apron. “Anson? Seriously? You really are a miracle worker. Fine. But it’s on you if I set something in here on fire.”
She motioned to the knife and pushed him toward the cutting board. “I haven’t met any of Anson’s friends yet. Is that… is that normal? He’s my first boyfriend, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“You met Jordan and Serena?”
“Yes.”
“Them, Kat, me and now Mel are pretty much the only people in his life, and I’m not sure he actually likes any of us. Fame is great for paying the bills, but not so great for making real friends.”
“Oh. Well, good to know he’s not ashamed of me.”
Chase cleared his throat before delving into the deeper topic. “I haven’t seen him wash his hands at all yet.”
Etta nodded slowly. “Every now and then he has a moment where he needs to, but he’s doing a lot better.”
“I can tell. No joke, but I forgot Anson knew how to smile off-camera until you came here. Whatever it is you two are doing, just don’t screw him over.” Chase cut the unpeeled onion down the middle, unsure if he was doing it right. “I know what he thinks of me, but to be honest, I overstay my welcome because I’m pretty sure he’ll have killed himself before I see him next. So I pretend to have nowhere to go so I don’t have to worry about him so much.”
Etta paused, taking in this new information. “That’s real decent of you. And you don’t have to stress yourself about me. I wouldn’t have moved here if I wasn’t in it for the long haul.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
Unsure of this herself, Etta chose her words carefully. “I’m here for as long as Anson wants me here. But I’m only here for him. Not his money. Not the ridiculously hot weather. Not any other stupid reason.”
“He offered to buy you a truck this morning. Don’t think I didn’t see that.”
“He’s very generous. Did you see me turn him down?”
Chase’s mouth tightened. “I did. You’re right. I’m being overprotective. I just want you to tread lightly. Our family isn’t…” He wiped his eyes, surprised to find himself tearing up. “But Anson’s all I’ve got. Don’t wreck him.”
“It’s the onions,” Etta commented, removing his hands from his face as he tried to dab at his eyes some more.
“Ah! It stings!” His head jerked around like a stallion bucking to break free. “Cooking did this! I hate cooking!”
Etta pressed a rag to his face and held the back of his head still until the worst of the burning passed. She looked over his shoulder at the onion, which he had not peeled before he chopped. She tried not to giggle at his ineptitude. “Onions do that if you’re not careful. I’m sorry. I should’ve given you a different job.”
Chase was still blinded, but tried to move around anyway, determined to finish the job. He knocked the chopped onions and the cutting board to the floor in his confusion. “Ah! It hurts all over again! I can’t see! My eyeballs are melting in my head!”
“Hush, now.” Etta held his head still until he calmed down. “Just give it a minute. It’s okay.” She patted his hair maternally. “Nobody’s burning your eyeballs, I promise.”
Anson entered through the garage to find his girlfriend either hugging his brother, or suffocating him with a rag, he wasn’t sure. “Uh, what’s going on?”
“Your girlfriend tried to kill me!”
“I did not, you big baby. Jiminy Cricket! It’ll go away in a second!” She looked over Chase’s shoulder to Anson and rolled her eyes. “He was helping make dinner and got some onion juice in his eyes.”
“Ah.” Anson made the same mistake several times in the cottage. He put a large box on the counter, looking it over as if it might contain a bomb. “This came for you.”
Etta’s confusion over receiving anything was clearly written all over her face. “Huh? For me? Is it from Chloe?”
“Nope. Your new best friend, Len Goldman.”
Etta let Chase dab at his
own face with the cloth as needed and unhanded him once he calmed down a little. Chase was just as curious as Anson. “Len Goldman, as in, Mr. Goldman? Your agent’s boss?”
Anson nodded. “She met him yesterday and made quite the impression. The two were holed up in his office, whispering secrets like little schoolgirls. I still don’t know what’s going on there.”
“What on earth?” She looked at the card, noting it was not addressed. He had someone deliver it personally to their home. “Strange. Should I open it?”
The boys answered in unison. “Um, yeah!”
She narrowed her eyes at them when she saw the two getting carried away. “Hey, I live here. It’s perfectly fine that friends send me mail here. Stop being so weird about it. You’re freaking me out.”
They both tried to read over her shoulder when she took the card out of the envelope. “Official personal CEO stationery. Nice and commanding.” Chase commented on three more things before Etta shooed them both back.
“Can I read my mail?” she asked, her temperament shifting.
The two speculated about what it could be while they watched Etta read the note.
Dear Etta,
My “son’s” agent informed me of your upcoming social event. Please accept this from your father-in-law. I hope it’s to your liking, and that you enjoy your evening to its fullest. An appointment has also been made at the best salon in Los Angeles so you can get the full star treatment before your event. You’ll find the salon’s card enclosed with the details.
-Len
Etta’s soft smile and sentimental reaction added more fodder to Anson and Chase’s guessing. She ignored them completely and untied the purple silk bow from the box, lifting the lid gingerly, so as not to disturb the contents. Upon feeling two mouths breathing over her shoulder, she snapped the lid shut and picked up the box. “Len is my friend. Aren’t you glad I made a friend here?” she questioned imperiously.
Both boys nodded.
“I’ll open this later, then.” When they protested, she shook her head. “You’re both being weird. Len just wants me to fit in at your event thing.”
“How did he know about that? I only just picked which ones we’d go to a couple hours ago at the meeting with Mel. He must’ve had this locked and loaded.”
“You’re going out?” Chase inquired, gawking at his brother in admiration. “You’re actually going to one of these parties?”
“This Saturday. It’s a charity event fundraiser for a children’s nonprofit. Mel thought it would send the right message.” Anson turned to Etta, perplexed. “How did Mr. Goldman know?”
“Um, he’s the boss?” Etta held the box to her chest protectively. “Now, listen up. My dad is dead. My Papa is dead. I haven’t had someone do something like this for me in a really long time. Don’t make a thing about it.”
Anson softened, but Chase only grinned. “Man, that’s gotta be something good in there.”
“Look, you. I’ve got a whole bag of onions over here, and I’m not above using it as a weapon.”
Chase held up his hands in surrender. The men apologized, then went to the living room to play more video games and further discuss theories as to what was in the box.
Etta put the gift, unopened, under the bed upstairs, and then came back down to finish dinner. She left a message for Cooper, asking if the business needed anything, and called Chloe to catch up on town gossip. Half an hour later, Etta learned that nothing had changed. Somehow, that fact was a comfort. So much was different in her life now; it was nice to think the world still turned resolutely on its axis.
Dinner was uneventful. Chase revealed his dog-walking business without asking Anson for a penny. He did inquire about the package three more times before he left at nine on the dot, cuffing Etta around the neck and mussing her brunette mess on his way out. “See you later, Sis,” he called.
Etta was pleased he took to her so easily. Anson had to return a few phone calls, so Etta scampered up the stairs to have a moment alone to unveil her present.
The large box was cream-colored, elegant and sturdy. When she lifted the lid, she gasped at the beauty beneath. The floor-length dark purple gown was more spectacular than anything she had ever seen. The heavy material felt like water in her hands, slipping through her fingers like no silk she had ever experienced. The stitching was so perfect, Etta felt ashamed at her clumsy sewing job on the curtains back home. The deep, luxurious color and the extravagant fabric were one thing, but the plunging neckline was another entirely. Etta wondered how her bra would not be seen. She laid it out on the carpet, poring over every detail as if she expected a quiz later. So engrossed was she that she did not notice Anson standing in the doorway. When he cleared his throat, she smiled up at him bashfully, ashamed she had been caught idolizing the dress so blatantly. “Did you guess right?” she asked, cozying into his side as he sat on the floor beside her.
“No. My money was still on a unicorn.” He tried to keep his tone innocent so he did not ruin her gift. “Why would Mr. Goldman send you a dress?” He looked at the tag. “A Valentino? Jeez! What did you two talk about?”
“What’s a Valentino? Is that the store it comes from?”
Anson laughed, despite his misgivings. “It’s a designer. Very nice. Very expensive. Worth more than your truck.”
“Oh! What? That’s ridiculous. A dress can’t be more than a car.”
“This one is. What did you say that made Mr. Goldman decide he would be your fairy godfather?”
Etta shrugged. “Honestly? I just asked him for some advice. I don’t know much about your life, so I asked him if he was your dad, what would he want for you? To go back to work or to retire so young.”
Anson swallowed. “And what did he say?”
“He said lots of things. About that, he said that if he was your dad, he’d be proud of you, and that you could do either with dignity. However, he mentioned something about your brain atrophying if you didn’t get a new challenge or a job or hobby to replace your career. He said it wasn’t good for a man to do nothing. That eventually, you’d be unhappy.” She traced the edge of the dress with her finger. “It was solid advice, and I needed it. I want to be amazing for you. I just don’t always know how to do that out here. I’m a little turned around.”
Anson kept his eyes on the fabric. “He said he was proud of me?”
“He did. No one asks his advice on non-work stuff. He doesn’t have any kids. Did you know that? Once he started talking, he had all sorts of useful things to tell me. It was nice. I haven’t had a dad in a long time.”
“One of the calls I was returning was from him. He invited me to go golfing with him tomorrow. I thought it was some sort of business thing.”
“You should go. He was nice to me, and he spoke very highly of you.”
Anson marveled at the woman who entranced him and others so easily. “My brother likes you. He and I had a whole day where we didn’t fight. I’m going golfing with someone who’s proud of me.” He looked at her in wonder. “What kind of voodoo are you working? How is Mr. Goldman your first LA friend? I wish you knew how bizarre that is.”
Etta shrugged. “Why? It’s in his best interest to have a highly satisfied client. I just asked him how to make you happy. He’s a smart man.”
Anson kissed her slowly, tracing her face with great care. He made to lay her down on the floor, but she protested.
“Wait! Not on my pretty dress!”
Anson laughed and carried her to the bed, where he made out with her until they both fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Competition in the Salon
Cinderella’s godmother had nothing on Mr. Goldman. The morning of the children’s charity fundraiser ball, Etta was at the salon being buffed, polished, waxed, steamed, massaged, highlighted, and pinned. She went where directed and sat without speaking unless spoken to. She was afraid she would say something uncouth in the posh environment, and the women there did not seem the type to be trifled with.
It was not until she was getting her nails done in a room with eight other patrons that the conversation took an interesting turn.
“Sarah, did you hear? Sylvia’s on the committee, and she let it slip that Anson Gable’s coming tonight,” said a woman Etta heard someone call Yva.
“Really? Please tell me he’s coming alone. He can’t be bringing Ekaterina VonHoussen. I mean, she just came out. The engagement was a sham.” Sarah flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder with the hand the manicurist had yet to touch.
“He’ll find some other smile to be photographed with, but I bet he’d be ready to go home with someone his agent didn’t hire.” Yva sat back in her chair, admiring the hand that had already been polished. “I love this color. You think it’s sexy?”
Sarah examined the nude hue and nodded. “It’s snag-a-man salacious, for sure.”
“How do you think they’d look wrapped around his eight inches?” Yva made a crude hand gesture that caused Etta to blush.
Sarah cackled her amusement. “Eight inches? Where are you getting your information?”
“I do my research. I’ve seen his earlier stuff. The pre-Hollywood films. I gotta say, one look at those, and it’s no wonder he’s done as well as he has. That package would open any door for a man, including mine.”
“Then may the best wench win,” Sarah challenged lightheartedly. “I could use a good lay. It’s been too long.”
“Roger was, what? A month ago?”
“Exactly. And he was no eight inches.” The girls laughed together, joined by a third eavesdropper in the seat beside Sarah.
“But you saw him with that mystery girl online, right? I mean, that photo’s been everywhere,” the woman chimed in.
“Sarah, you can’t be serious. It was only the back of her, but did you see those chicken legs? Probably a friend’s little sister or something, just out palling around. She’s not his caliber. I could tell from the back of her head,” Yva claimed with her nose in the air.
Liberating Mr. Gable Page 18
