Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 6
This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.
The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move.
This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023
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Chapter 6--Reconciliations
Chris awoke tired since he did not arrive home in New York until after midnight after the 14-hour flight from Dubai. Dubai what a nightmare: the heat, the odd looks from the Arab men, the small crowd for the fashion show--five sheiks and their wives. The fear as a gay transgender man in an Islamic country. It helped that he had a guide to stir him away from danger, like the private party Chris was invited to. How do you tell a man sporting a five-carat diamond ring and flanked by two burly body guards with guns and large, very large swords no? His guide gently reminded the man that Chris was in Dubai as a guest of the Crown Prince. Chris was hassled no further.
The one consolation was that at least he awoke tired in his own bed. He pulled the comforter up around his chin, looking around his room. His room but then not his room because he was moving to L.A.. He had a house there. It was empty of furniture except for the grand piano, which the previous owners agreed to include as part of the deal. He rolled over to snuggle with Tom, but an empty, cold pillow received his outstretched arms. Reluctantly he sat up. "Beach, make me a cup of coffee."
"Yes sir. Nice to have you home." The stiff English accent always tickled Chris.
"Beach, prepare my shower."
"It will be ready when you finish your morning constitutional."
Chris stood in front of his bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth, looking for changes in his body. None that he noticed, no body hair, no increased libido, no increased energy. He stuck his tongue out at himself for being foolish. The doctor said it would take at least six weeks before he would see any small effects of the testosterone. The shower was ready and Chris stepped in and five jets massaged his tired body. He knew he was pampered by the electronics of this place. He wanted to continue to be pampered in Los Angeles.
He was in Dreamweavers-East by 8:00, received his assignments for the next three days, and on location at a warehouse by 9:30. During down time, which was often, he looked at furniture for the new house, talked to the security people and set a date for installations of Beach-L.A., as he liked to call the clone of the system at Beach-NY. That night he met with Chaz and Boyd. Their relationship was growing hot and they were talking about a September marriage. It was hinted that Lizzette might allow Boyd full custody of their child; Boyd was still the father of record. Chaz and Boyd were looking for a house with a yard or near a park. Chris knew that Chaz's tastes would be the biggest obstacle to finding a home. Chaz needed a place that could be a showcase for his design skills. Chris suggested that he talk to Mary Donaldson, Chet's mother, or Derrek Lovejoy.
The next day work was more of the same with the night visiting with Zack, Juan, Malcolm and Hymie. They were sad that Chris was transferring to L.A., but he assured them that he would be in New York frequently. That Sunday morning, Louis and Ollie showed up because they heard about Chris moving to L.A.. Louis insisted on cooking. Chris was going to miss them and the divine creations Louis did with food. That afternoon Chet and Hector popped in and that night he spent time with Millie and Liam. As he tucked himself into bed, he knew he would miss the friends he made here, but life was about change. He should know that more than anyone, but he would not lose touch with his friends.
Monday, Chris had an early flight to Chicago. He had new contracts to sign, meetings with Stu, Helga, Dorn, and Miriam about Dreamweavers-West. But what he looked forward to most was dinner with his sister and a couple of her friends. Chris made reservations at Prime & Provision. It was new and reported to serve the best steaks, according to Stu. Tuxed-In was expanding their collection to men's suits, so Chris wore one of their latest selections, a take on a three-piece suit with a longer jacket, narrow lapels that ran the length of the jacket, a pull over brocade vest in russets, and grey slacks the matched textured weave of blacks and deep grey. The banana yellow shirt had a grey silk tie. For some reason he was nervous and arrived early because he felt one of his sister's guests would be his mother. They had been texting but had not repaired the distance between them. He was seated at the table with a glass of Pellegrino when he saw his sister approach with his mother and, Chris tried not to run, his father.
"Hey Chris," Chris stood to hug Britney. "You look amazing. Like the design." Chris did not respond; he only stared at his father, who would not look at Chris.
"You do look well, son." Chris was taken aback by his mother calling him her son. Shock stole his tongue.
His Dad stuck out his hand and said , "Hi Chris." This was definitely progress. They sat and the wait staff poured water and took drink orders. His Dad ordered a double scotch.
"Love the suit Chris, where did you find it?"
"You remember the place that made my tuxedo for when we went to the opera. They are doing suits now. They made this for me. They consider me a walking advert." Chris's laugh was hesitant.
"It is very beautiful. Not traditional. But you have never been traditional." Chris's mother choked as she realized what she said.
"No, I guess not but I was never made to be traditional." Chris tossed off the comment, but knew both his parents would understand his meaning.
"So, what have you done exciting?" Britney was doing her best to keep the conversation going.
"Only in Chicago for a few days until tomorrow when I go to Los Angeles. Came from New York and before that I was in Dubai for three days. I can't wait to get to L.A. and relax."
"Isn't L.A. just another stop? You live in New York." Chris's mother was totally confused.
"The last three weeks have been a whirlwind. I and Tom were sent to L.A.. I was to do a music video and Tom was to look at Dreamweavers opening a location in L.A.. It turns out they ended up acquiring a talent agency in L.A.. They have asked me and Tom to relocate to L.A.. That is where his parents live."
"What about your place in New York, Brit says it is very posh." Helen, Chris's mother was actually interested in what Chris was doing.
"I bought a house in L.A. last weekend." Chris's Dad looked up surprised.
"Home prices are high there. Will the sale of yours in New York cover a down payment."
"Since I will be still spending a large amount of time in New York. I am keeping the place there." Chris watched his dad as he calculated numbers in his head. As an accountant he liked numbers. "Both places are paid for, Dad. I am paid very well."
"Good, nice to have property and equity, but can be hell with taxes since there are not mortgage deductions."
"Do you have pictures of the new house?" Helen asked. Chris pulled out his phone and showed her several.
Ever practical, "How are you going to keep it clean? It is a mansion."
"Hire a cleaning service."
Chris's Dad looked at the pictures, "How large a lot?"
"Little over four acres." Grunts of approval as Chris's Dad as he looked at the pictures; it made Chris proud. His father was not being an ass.
"Meet and famous people?" Britney asked. She was expecting a no.
"Yes, had dinner with Malvia Strickland about two weeks ago. Tom and I were invited to this exclusive Hollywood dinner party, and she was one of the guests. She sat across the table from me. We had a blast together."
"You're fucking kidding me." Helen looked disapprovingly at her daughter.
"Sorry Mom. But Chris met Malvia Strickland. Wait until I tell my friends. Do you have any pictures?" Malvia and I had done a couple of selfies making faces as a lark. I showed everyone the picture.
The waitress came and took orders.
"It sounds like you are moving in important circles Chris. Don't let it get to your head." Chris's dad was trying to be a dad, awkwardly trying; Chris smiled at his father.
"Dad, I try never to forget where I came from." Chris's dad grunted.
"How's Tom?" Britney asked. Chris was not sure what Britney had told anyone about Tom, but Chris was not hiding anything.
"Tom and I are getting married. He proposed and I accepted." Britney squealed with delight. Helen was befuddled, and Chris Sr. was looking at Chris, neither angry nor happy. It was a stare that made the ends of the hair stand up.
"You are marrying a man?" Helen asked, still confused. "Why all this about wanting to change gender. You can stay a woman, marry him, and have my grandbabies."
Chris wanted to laugh at the absurd logic, but for his mother it was not absurd.
"Mom, can you see me as a housewife. Can you see me as pregnant. I know it is difficult to understand but. Do you remember when you and Dad took us to the circus and I saw the clowns." Chris paused for the recollection to register. "After that I took you lipstick and powder and did my face like a clown. I wanted to look like that forever." Helen laughed at the memory. "But you told me that the clown was only makeup and that underneath was a beautiful person that needed to show her own face." Chris looked at his father, who seemed to see where the conversation was going. "This body I have now is like that clown makeup. It is not the real me. It is not who I am. And I cannot and will not change who I am. It is not easy, but I have people who accept that I am a man trapped in a woman's body. They support and understand." The waiter placed salads in front of us.
"Explains why the tits are gone," Chris's Dad said. "Weren't that much to begin with." Chris looked at his father and saw humor. They both cracked up.
The remainder of the meal was delicious and the conversation was about family gossip. After dessert, coffee was served. Britney and Helen excused themselves to go to the powder room.
"Chris," Chris Sr. was hesitant to speak; he looked at his empty coffee cup and then looked up. "I don't blame you if you hate me. In fact, I was surprised that you didn't slug me when you saw me. I saw the news report where you slugged that pervert, so I know you know how to hit. My kicking you out of the house was wrong." Chris started to interrupt but his Dad hushed him. "But I was so confused and guilty, still guilty. I mean that psychiatrist said that you wanting to be a man was my fault."
"Dad, she was a quack. I was born with medical condition involving a biological disconnect called gender dysphoria."
"I know that now. I have been researching, and your sister is persistent. When I kicked you out, I figured you would be gone a few hours. Then your friend's parents called to say that you were staying with them for a little while. I was upset but not concerned. But then you left there and disappeared." Chris's father picked up a napkin to wipe his eyes. "It devastated your mother and me thinking about you out there on your own, not knowing if you were alive or not. It almost destroyed our marriage; except we had Brittney to worry about. She was devastated. She did not talk to me for weeks. Can you ever forgive me."
"I forgave you a long time ago. Ignorance and bad advice are not your fault. I never doubted that you loved me, but I could not stay and become what was expected. I would not have survived. I would have succeeded the second time."
"I know that now." The waiter poured more coffee. "I am sorry that your mother and I were not the best parents for you."
"Dad, you and Mom were great parents. You gave me the tools to survive and thrive. For the first thirteen years of my life, you treated me as your son. That gave me a firm foundation for my identity. You insisted I take self-defense, which has saved me from harm." They both laughed. "Mom insisted I take ballet and learn the piano, which had given me poise as a model and a talent to entertain people. All her cocktail parties and dinner parties taught me how to be a gracious host. I would not be where I am today without everything that you have taught me. But most of all you have both taught me to be honest, this includes being honest with myself. I need to thank you."
"You have grown into someone I am proud of, son." Helen and Britney returned with both men wiping their eyes.
"Good," Helen said, "we're a family again. Now Chris when are you getting married because we want to give you away to any man that is worthy of claiming my son."
The waiter returned with the bill and handed it to Chris Sr. "No, I am paying for this."
"Damn right you are." Chris Sr. passed the bill to Chris. "Any man that can own two home, two beautiful, expensive homes can damn well buy his family supper."
After supper Chris went with his parents to their home, his home. where they talk about Tom, Tom's parents, Chris's work and when they would see him again.
The next morning, Chris went to the park to find Hank. He was in the same place by the bridge drinking coffee. "Got an extra cup?" Chris sat down on a log next to Hank.
"I'll be damned if it's not the supermodel Chris out slumming."
"Not out slumming, coming home for a visit. Where is Dion?"
"He is in the VA hospital. The PTSD got really bad. The voices of the dying got too loud." Chris didn't know what to say.
"You are doing real well for yourself. Put on a few pounds, look healthy. Understand you bought yourself a house in L.A. and marrying a handsome man."
"How do you know that?" As far as Chris knew, Hank never read a newspaper nor owned anything but a basic phone, sometimes.
"Sources." Chris could only give him a quizzical look. "you're like my son, so I need to look out for you. And I'm real proud of you. You are doing well for yourself and helping other people too. I know about your anonymous donations to the homeless shelter here." Chris basked in the praise from a man he admired. "Need to stretch my legs. Want to walk with me, unless I am not fashionable enough for you."
"Cut the crap and let's walk." They walked. Chris bought them both breakfast at a McDonald's. They walked more, but Hank had a direction in mind so Chris followed as they talked about Dion and about what Chris has been doing. They stopped in front of the BMO Harris Bank. Hank held the door for Chris. Chris was curious.
Hank stopped at a reception desk. "Is Even in?"
"He is in a meeting, Mr. Walker. I'll text him and let him know you are here."
Twenty minutes later, an older man with thin white hair walked toward them. "Hey Hank, what brings you by today."
"Even, this young man is Chris Wentworth."
"Ah, nice to finally meet you Mr. Wentworth." Chris extended his hand, uncertain what this was all about and why this banker knew of him. "Let's go to my office." They took the elevator to the top floor and down a hallway through a door with a name plate of `Even Wilkerson, Vice President', into a reception area where an older woman with a bun greeted her boss. He waved at her and led Hank and Chris into his office with a spectacular view of Chicago and Lake Michigan. He motioned both to dark leather chairs. "Now how can I help you Hank?"
"You know what we talked about several months ago. I would like to execute it now."
"I see, and Mr. Wentworth will be the executor?"
"Yes and the beneficiary." Chris felt like he was watching a play in Swahili."
"Very good." Even touched his desk phone. "Grace, please bring in Mr. Walker's file."
"Yes, sir, I have it on my desk."
"That woman scares me; she is almost psychic on how she anticipates my needs." Chris watch Grace enter and place a largeish folder on Mr. Wilkerson's desk. "Thank you Grace."
"Since Hank here has no family that he acknowledges, he is asking you to be the executor of his estate when he dies." He paused for understanding. "You do know what an executor is?"
Chris said yes because his dad was the executor when his grandmother died. "I would be responsible for paying any debts out of his estate, ensuring the terms of his will are followed, in general manage the affairs of the estate."
"Yes precisely. Is that something that you are able to do?"
"I would hesitate to say yes because as far as I know Hank has no asset that would require an executor."
"Looks can be deceiving, but you are young and have not been deceived often." Mr. Wilkerson said. Hank chuckled at that.
"Hank's approximate net worth is around 150 million dollars. It is scattered in bonds, stocks, gold, and property."
Chris looked at Hank, angry, "Why the hell are you living on the street?"
"Long story, short answer. I like the freedom. I was successful in business. When I was given a golden parachute, my family took most of it, I took the rest, invested and then left Even to manage it. He has done an excellent job, so if you want he can continue once you inherit the estate."
"If I say no to being the executor, what happens?"
"One of his children would be appointed."
"Would that be bad?"
"I want my children to have nothing of what I have earned after they took everything. They are nothing but greedy leaches."
"Mr. Wilkerson, Even, could be the executor."
"Yes, I could be, but for various reasons, I do not want to be." He pause. "If it is any help, the financials, debts and other obligations are very minimal. Hank has no debt. The property could be sold immediately, although they provide a good steady income and have good management. And since you are the sole recipient of the will, you do not need to contend with heirs."
Chris sat silent thinking. "It was you." He turned to Hank. "That gave me the money for the homes in New York and now in L.A.."
"Guilty." Hank looked at Chris with affection and defiance. "I have the money so why not use it to help someone who is like my son."
"What about Dion?"
"He is taken care of in a trust fund that is totally separate from the estate. He is not able to handle his affairs, and I do not want to saddle you with the burden."
`Can I call someone, an attorney?" Even was more than happy to allow it.
"Hi Anda, this is Chris."..."No I am not in any trouble. I'm in Chicago and I have been asked to be an executor of an estate."..."Yes, it is sizable."..."I would be the sole heir."..."If you would, I would appreciate it." Chris hung up. "My future mother-in-law is an attorney and would like to look at the document before I sign it. I assume I do not need to sign it today. If you could fax a copy to Miranda Greenwood for her review. Then when I see her next week, I can sign it and send it back."
"That is an excellent suggestion. This is a big decision and should not be taken lightly. Give the contact information to Grace and she will fax a copy. I will also give you a hard copy."
Chris walked Hank back to his spot near the bridge. "I know that this is what you want, so I will not try to change your mind, but when Tom and I get married, will you come?"
"I will do my best. Contact Even when and where."
"Thanks, for being my friend and for keeping me safe. I owe you so much."
"Yes, you do." Hank hugged Chris. "And repay me by having the surgery, by marrying the man you love, and by helping others. You have a big heart Chris, do not be afraid to share it. It does leave you open to hurt, but you will also be surprised by the joy that it opens."
Chris walked back to a main street and caught a cab to Dreamweavers. Helga was back from L.A.. Natalie was fully in control and the location was on course. Chris spoke to Helga about Hank and the executorship. She bolstered Chris's confidence, and he felt better. It also helped that he was heading home to L.A. and Tom.
Chris landed in L.A. just after dark and was met at the airport by Jacob. Tom was in Baha doing a spread for Ralph Lauren. Jacob did not drive Chris to the hotel but up the Pacific Coast Highway to his new home. Tom had given Jacob a remote for the gate and a key to the house. Outside lights were on and inviting. Chris unlocked the door, a light was on in the empty living room, except for the piano. Chris walked through the empty dining room, into the kitchen. A large round table sat in the eating area with a dozen roses in a vase. There was a note.
Food in the fridge. Sorry I am not there to make your first night home memorable, but I will be home tomorrow. Love you. Tom
Chris examined the fridge, once he found it. It matched the cabinetry. Inside were the fixings for sandwiches and salads. He asked Jacob if he would like to join him in a light meal before he headed back to Santa Monica. Chris enjoyed the hour talking to Jacob and getting to know the boy. He was young (Damn Chris thought, he is almost my age) but he had substance. Jacob left with a warning that he would be back at 8:30 to pick Chris up.
Chris needed to get a car. He needed to get a driver's license. With a glass of wine in hand, Chris found the master bedroom. Tom had bought a bedroom set, so they would not need to sleep on the floor. And a 60-inch TV filled the space over the fireplace, an essential. Chris wanted to request Beach to play soft classical, but Beach would be here later this week when the IT team set the house up. Chris dragged himself into bed, missing Tom, but fell asleep quickly.
At 7:00 Chris's phone alarm rang. He jumped out of bed at first confused as to where he was and then panicking as to whether or not there were any clothes in his closet. The only clothes he had was in the suitcase; they were mostly dirty. The master bedroom had his and her closets, so Chris had his own closet. Bless Tom, he had clothes to wear. He counted three suits, three pairs of dress pants and shirt, a couple of pairs of jeans and casual shirts. The drawers had T-shirts, underwear, socks. And the shoe rack had everything from dress shoes to flip flops. By 8:30 Chris had his coffee to go and awaited Jacob in the living room, sitting on the piano bench watching hummingbirds hover around a yucca. He was ready to face the world.
The 9 o'clock meeting was with Claret laying out his social media program and publicity plans. He specifically had a plan for Chris, who was to be the face of Dreamweavers-West. Unbeknownst to Chris, his appearance at the Powells made him hotter property. He had dozens of requests to attend parties, openings, premiers, and gala events. Claret was being selective. Leave them wanting more. Besides, Chris did have a job and next month he would be active at all the fashion shows. Claret was even talking about branding Chris for endorsements. Claret said he could pull in over 10 mil a year. Now a good chunk would go to Dreamweavers. Natalie's only concern was exhausting Chris with all the demands. Chris appreciated her concern, because he would likely agree to everything.
"All of this is very exciting for Dreamweavers-West." Chris stood, when asked his opinion. "I am willing to do what I can to contribute to the success of this division, especially when my shelf life is limited. With the hormone treatments and the anticipated surgery, I am not sure how marketable I will be in the future." A half-dozen faces looked at him with concern, worry and confusion. "Obviously you don't know. I started hormone therapy a couple of weeks ago in anticipation of gender reassignment surgery."
Claret fell into his chair, mouth open. "You're gonna be a girl?"
Chris looked at Claret, stupefied and wanting to laugh. "No Claret, I'm gonna not be a girl." Claret face twisted as he figured out what Chris said, then his mouth formed an O and he smiled. Chris spent the next hour in his office with Claret explaining everything. He was curious but supportive. His admiration for Chris grew.
At 2:00 Tom barged into Chris's office. "Just got back. We need to leave. Got a 3:30 o'clock meeting with an interior designer. And dinner with the folks tonight to discuss the wedding." Chris rolled his eyes and shut things down for the day. On the way to the house Chris said he needed to buy a car and get a driver's license. Tom asked if he wanted New York or California as their official residence. Chris thought California, because this is where he will drive. In New York you can use cabs and Uber. Chris also needed to find doctors. So much to do. Tom squeezed his leg. But he was not alone. He had two families now: Tom's and his. There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing that could stop him now.
Tom pulled up to their house, a real house with a real yard. When Tom flicked the remote the garage door opened with space for three cars. Chris thought he might like a van or a truck.
"Welcome home, my love. I'm sorry that you had to spend the first night alone, but we are together now." Tom led Chris to the kitchen and poured them both mineral water. "We're renting the master bedroom furniture and also for one of the guest rooms until we can decide how to furnish the place."
"That is why we have an interior designer." Chris chuckled. "To tell us what we like." Chris took a sip of the water. "Do you know him or her? Are they any good?"
"Yes and yes. The more important question is what do you want to spend. We will need more than furniture."
"Yeah, Chaz was a big help in New York. Wish he could do the work for us here. He knows our tastes."
"Don't worry the person hired will be as good as Chaz, trust me."
"You know, I have not even toured the house except with Petre, which was superficial. Let's do a walk through."
"We need to go through the guest house to see what it needs."
"Forgot about that, but this place does feel like home. I like that it is secluded and wooded. We need to find the spring and the stream, maybe build a tea house."
They spent twenty minutes exploring the kitchen with the double oven and professional cooktop when the intercom rang with a guest at the front gate. "Need a camera there." Tom said as hit the key to open the front gate. "Let's greet our first guests."
A baby blue Mercedes was parked in front of the main door. The trunk was open and two people were pulling out luggage. "Hey, Chris so this is your place." Chris almost peed himself when he saw Boyd and then Chaz come from the back of the car carrying three suitcases, a garment bag, and a backpack.
"Oh, this is the best surprise ever." Chris was hugging Boyd and then Chaz. "What in hell are you doing here." Then Chris rounded on Tom. "Why didn't you tell me."
"Couldn't leave the decorating of your place to any amateurs," Chaz said as he hugged and kissed Tom. "Besides, your place in New York will be featured in a future issue of Architectural Digest. Want this place to show my range." Chris grabbed a suitcase and Tom grabbed another and led them into the house.
"Like the place, good bones and a blank canvas." Chaz said as he looked around the living room."
"Let's get your stuff in your room." Chris said, "now we only need Tom to show us where it is at. Yesterday was the first day I've been here, I know where the master bedroom is and the kitchen. This place is all new to me too."
"This will be fun. We'll let Chaz and Tom work while we explore." Boyd clasped Chris's hand and swung them like two kids playing hooky.
Tom took them passed the family room and a hallway off of it leading to two guest bedrooms. This is your room. It has its own bath and French doors leading to the patio and pool. Unless you would prefer the guest house."
"Tom, be nice. We have not even looked at the guest house. We have no idea what shape it is in."
"You've got a fucking guest house." Boyd sat on the bed looking out the window. "How large is the property?"
"About 4.5 acres, half wooded and half scrub. Might put in a small vineyard and garden, but that is future plans. First, with Chaz's help, is getting this house functioning."
"Will you have a similar smart house as New York."
"IT people will be here tomorrow to start the set up. We'll have Beach-West. Both homes can be tied to the same master system. Beach is already working on his Valley speak." It was nice to laugh and joke with Chaz and Boyd. Chris missed Boyd.
"We have time for a pre-prandial drink before we go to my parents for supper. They live fairly close by." Tom led everybody back to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. "Too good friends."
They drove to Anda and Quent's in Chaz's rental because Tom's mustang would be cramped with four. The meal and the evening was delightful. Chaz captured Anda's interest when he showed her pictures of Chris's place in New York. They discussed plans for the place in L.A.. Linc and Nat were there, glued together on the sofa.
Boyd and Chris went out on the balcony to enjoy the sea breezes and the view of the ocean. "How are things with you and Chaz and you and Lizette?"
"Knock on wood," Boyd rapped on his head, "Could not be better. Chaz is perfect: loving, just a little kinky in bed. We fit like you and Tom do. Lizette is actually a very smart and caring woman. The pregnancy is proceeding without complications. She absolutely adores Chaz. Once she delivers the baby, it's a girl, will be mine. As the father, of record, that is not an issue with me having custody. Once Chaz and I are married, he will adopt her. We are looking for a house with a yard. We do not want to raise her in an apartment building."
"I am so happy for both of you. And I miss you so much."
"Have you and Tom set a date?"
"Not yet. Likely around Christmas because next month and the following Tom and I will be in Europe for fashion week. I'm a nervous wreck about that. I will need to meet Tom's English relatives. His grandfather makes the decision whether or not I am good enough to be in the family. Not that his blessing is required. He did not approve of Quent marrying Anda."
"Sounds like he is stuck in the illusions of a Victorian Lord."
"According to Tom, he is a Victorian Lord." Their mutual laughter rolled down the hill to be carried away by the sea. "S'pose we need to join the rest." They entered the family room to find Tom heading to gather them. They were leaving so Chaz and Boyd could rest after the long flight. They were in California for four days. There would be time to visit.
But that was not enough time when Chaz and Boyd said goodbye on Sunday. A whole house of furniture was to be delivered over the next two weeks, art galleries and antique shops were scour, and there was even found time to attempt surfing at Malibu Beach. "I'll miss them." Chris was laying against Tom on the temporary bed. The new bed was to be delivered Wednesday; a California King Mission style sleigh bed with a wardrobe, lowboy and high boy dresses and end tables.
"We will see them soon. I would not be surprised if they moved here. My mom liked Chaz's work. He is cutting edge enough to be more popular out here than in more conservative New York."
"We will need an open house once things are settled."
"No urgency for that. Open houses are not as big a thing here as completion parties. Maybe a party once Cecelie's video is released."
"That's in ten weeks. No way in hell will I be ready." Chris hit Tom's shoulder as he chortled.
"We should have security and electronics fully functional by next week." Much to Tom and Chris's delight, the guest house was fully furnished, the IT people were staying there. "All the furniture will be here at the same time. We need to hire a landscaper, particularly for the front, and a housekeeping service, so we will be mostly settled within a month."
"At which time we will be in Europe for a month."
"Forgot about that."
"We can do something at Christmas." Chris giggled, rubbing his hands together. "I get to decorate for Christmas."
"What monster in green and red will awaken. I will have my trusty mistletoe arrow notched and ready."
"Two places to decorate and entertain at." Chris turned on his side and fell asleep.