Chapter Twenty-Five Lunch
At the hotel, Mirabelle, Francesca and Eleanor lined up at the front desk, and when Mirabelle pulled out Bastian’s credit card to check in, Francesca smiled at her. “Victor tried to book your room with ours, but Bastian insisted he pay for you two.”
“Yeah, that's not surprising. He's very much about paying his way, and his way has always included me.” Mirabelle smiled; Bastian hated accepting money or having anyone pay for him, even if he was the first one to throw his credit card down to pay for everyone at the table. “He's always been adamant about providing for the people he cares about.”
The front desk clerk, realizing they were all together, rearranged Bastian and Mirabelle's rooms so they were on the same floor next to Eleanor's and Robert’s and across from Francesca and Victor’s room. As they walked to the elevator, Eleanor shook her head, disbelief clear on her face. “I don't understand how you ended up with Eddie when you had Bastian right there.”
“There were a lot of misunderstandings.” Mirabelle chuckled ruefully. “He was afraid of me rejecting him and losing his best friend, and I didn't know he saw me as anything more than a friend.”
“If she hadn't gotten with Eddie, we wouldn't have her.” Francesca pointed out as they got on the elevator and pressed the button for their floor.
“Given that we run in the same art circles, we would have met eventually.” Eleanor linked her arm through Mirabelle's, smiling. “And I would have brought her home.”
“Actually, I never got into art seriously until I met you,” Mirabelle confessed. “I knew what I liked but never paid that much attention beyond “Oh! That's pretty!” before I bought something. Now I know more about what to look for and focus on new and upcoming artists, go to galleries and art shows.”
“Oh.” Eleanor paused, looking surprised but gratified by Mirabelle’s confession. “That's really all because of me?”
“Yeah, you invited me out with you when we first met and I went so we could get to know one another. I really enjoyed it and started doing it on my own.” Mirabelle hesitated. Eddie was still a complex subject for her to talk about. Considering that at the start of her relationship, she felt he was using her to make Casey jealous until she moved away, and thought there was a real good chance he married her to give his family the finger metaphorically, but it blew up in his face when they grew to love her, she doubted that Eddie ever actually loved her.
However, she couldn’t deny that he had put the work into their relationship. Fake or not, he had gotten her to fall for him and marry him despite “having Bastian right there.” “The thing is, Eddie is capable of being better. I'm sure there were red flags I missed, like Casey, which I ignored because of my relationship with Bast, but I compared all the men I dated to Bastian, and Eddie passed the test.” They stepped off the elevator and walked toward their rooms. “The only major arguments Eddie and I had were about Casey and Bastian.”
Francesca reached out and lightly patted Mirabelle’s cheek, seeming to know what her thoughts were. “He did step up and rise to meet the standards when he realized he wanted to be with you, and I think he genuinely wanted to change and be better. But I think keeping with the change proved to be too much for him.” They reached their rooms, and she sighed, disappointment in her son exuding from her. “Let's put our luggage in and go grab lunch. Our appointments begin at two.”
--------------
They put their luggage in their rooms and freshened up quickly before leaving and getting settled in at a small cafe a few blocks down from their hotel. When they placed their orders, Mirabelle asked if they knew what the plan was for the bachelorette party.
“Since the bride and her sisters, both of whom are in the wedding party, can’t drink, I'm sure it will be a wonderful, drama-free night of good, sober fun.” Eleanor chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she sipped her water and picked up her fork to get started on her salad,
“Not that being sober has lessened the dramatics so far,” Francesca said dryly. Mirabelle could tell that she was trying to be glib, but the way she stabbed at her scallops with her fork betrayed just how irritated she was by everything that had been going on. Eleanor exchanged a look with Mirabelle and shook her head.
“Actually, we have no idea what the plan is. We were told everyone will be meeting in the hotel lobby at four and that we need a team of two to six people. So, you, Mother, Caroline, Lila, and I will be a team.” Eleanor spoke with a slightly forced lightness as her mother’s mood dipped somewhat.
“Are Caroline and Lila the only other family that came?” Mirabelle asked curiously. When she and Eddie got married, their family filled the church, which was good because, besides about twenty friends, it was just Mirabelle's mom on her side. Her mother ran away from home just before she graduated from high school and never looked back. There wasn’t any abuse or favouritism among her siblings over her; her mother hated school and wanted to drop out, but her parents insisted that she stick it out until she graduated. Knowing she was going to fail, she dropped out, ghosted her family, and moved from Memphis to New Orleans with her twenty-six-year-old boyfriend. She got into drugs, her boyfriend left, and she started stripping and prostituting herself to get by. Her parents offered to take her back as long as she went back and finished high school, but she refused, never speaking to them again.
“Most of our family have an “only attend the first wedding” rule,” Francesca explained, shaking Mirabelle from her thoughts. “Although I should warn you, Victor’s parents are planning to attend; they’re just waiting to book tickets because they haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“Oh. That's too bad. About the family, I mean!” Mirabelle amended hastily as Eleanor giggled.
“Eddie doesn't care; all of his college friends are here. Those are the ones that matter. He calls them his “chosen family.” Francesca made bunny ears as she spoke. There was a lot of hurt and resentment behind her words, and Mirabelle felt a pang of sympathy for her. She knew how much Eddie's behaviour hurt her, and she reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. “I just don't know why he insists on acting like we were distant parents who left him to nannies and sent him to boarding school so we wouldn't have to deal with him.” She shook her head, looking genuinely baffled by her son’s behaviour. “We never employed nannies, and boarding school was his choice! There were plenty of private schools in New York he could have attended; he wanted to go to Belhaven Prep!”
“Because Eddie can't accept that he makes bad choices.” Eleanor sipped her drink, looking bored with the rehashing of what led Eddie to this point. “He wanted to go to Belhaven because Zeke was going there. You and Father did nothing wrong; he just wants to have the same problems with his family that the rest of his friends have with theirs. Besides, even if you had hired nannies and chosen to send him to boarding school, so what? Both you and father were raised that way, and you both turned out fine.”
“I think ninety percent of Eddie's problems right now stem from Casey,” Mirabelle said quietly when Francesca looked like she was about to cry. “The first two years we were married, she was here in Michigan, and he was fine, great even. He's always thought he's smarter than everyone else, but it was after she moved back that we started having problems. Our first serious argument was about her and his lack of boundaries with her.”
“Mirabelle is right, Mother.” Eleanor nodded firmly. “Casey has always been right beside him for every poor decision he's made, with Zeke being a close second. You'd be much happier if you'd do like Father and me and keep him at arm's length.”
“I know.” Francesca sighed sadly. “After the wedding, I've agreed to stop reaching out, and when we hand over the fund, we are making it clear that financial support stops as well. Of course, there will be the trust for his child, but we’ll handle that, then you and Robert until you pass it over to them.”
“Or a lawyer, you know two.” Eleanor smiled evilly and shared a look with Mirabelle, who chuckled.
“I think Bast would get great pleasure from denying Eddie access to his child’s trust fund.” Mirabelle squeezed Francesca's hand again, getting a small smile from her this time and decided to change the subject as they finished their meals. “Do you know what the guys are doing for the bachelor party?”
“Oh yeah, Eddie and his friends are still huge fans of college football. There’s a game tomorrow night, and the last I heard, they were trying to get a private sky box,” Eleanor explained as she waved for the waitress’s attention.
“Uh-oh.” Mirabelle bit her lip, instantly feeling guilty for signing Bastian up for the bachelor party. “Bast hates football.”
“You can't tell me with that frame he didn't play?” Eleanor grinned as they paid and collected their things. “Don't worry; Father, Robert, Benji, and Peter will all be there, also hating football. He’ll be in good company.”
“Oh, that's good.” Mirabelle sighed as her guilt lessened somewhat. “No, he didn't play football; he was on the wrestling team and was into mixed martial arts for a while. He stopped both when he got his nose broken and needed surgery to breathe properly again, then reconstructive surgery after a few years working as a lawyer and could afford it because he's vain and hated having a slightly crooked nose.” She chuckled at her memory of his dismay at his slightly off-centre nose and shook her head. “It was barely noticeable.”
“It's kind of nice to know he isn't perfect.” Eleanor looked delighted that Bastian’s major flaw was his vanity. “Makes him seem more approachable.”
“Oh, he's definitely not perfect.” Mirabelle snorted. “He knows he's good-looking and is very much about looking his best and is not afraid to use his “pretty privilege” to his advantage as much as possible.”
“Really?” Eleanor’s eyes flashed with amusement as they left the restaurant. “He’s that into his looks?”
“Oh yeah,” Mirabelle nodded, knowing he would admit to it without hesitation. He gets a manicure and pedicure every three weeks, goes to a barber every two weeks to have his hair and beard looked after, loves having facials done, and has everything waxed every six weeks.”
“Everything?” Eleanor paused, looking curious. “Like everything, everything?” Mirabelle chuckled and nodded.
“He actually handles it much better than I do.” She admitted.
“I wonder if he can convince Robert to get it done.” Eleanor looked like she was seriously considering asking Bastian to bring her husband to get waxed, and then she looked at Mirabelle quizzically. “It doesn’t bother you that he’s so vain?”
“Nope.” Mirabelle shrugged. “He’s vain, but he’s not a jerk about it, and he isn’t that way to get attention from women; he started manscaping because the first lawyer he worked for told him that eighty percent of success in the courtroom comes from looking put together and in charge. He also really enjoys being pampered. He actually would have been just as happy to join us at the spa as he is to go golfing.”
“Now that I would have drawn the line at.” Francesca smiled, looking amused by Bastian’s dedication to his looks. “I like him quite a bit, much more than I thought I would, if I’m being honest, but I'm excited to spend time with my two girls again. How is your mother doing Mira?”
“Mom's doing alright, still living in Dallas and dealing with severe PTSD from the hurricane and being evacuated.” Mirabelle shrugged. “She refuses to go anywhere near the ocean, so she won’t come near New York, and she teaches pole dancing at one of the dance studios.” Her mother’s chosen profession saw her clientele start to dry up when she hit fifty, and she latched on to the saying, “Those who can’t do, teach.” When pole dancing became more mainstream as a workout and a way for women to feel good about themselves, she found herself in high demand.
“Isn't she in her sixties?” Francesca asked, curiosity and disbelief warring on her face.
“Turns sixty-one in November.” Mirabelle nodded with a smile. “Pole dancing is a great workout, and she’s still in great shape.”
“I've always wanted to take a class!” Eleanor jumped in excitedly. “Will you go with me, Mira?”
“Eleanor!” Francesca looked like she was about to pass out at the thought of her daughter pole dancing in any capacity.
“Sure.” Mirabelle laughed at Francesca's horrified face. “If you want, come to Dallas with Bast and me in November and do a class with her. She taught me a few years ago.
“You should come too, Mother.” Eleanor teased Francesca, who was looking scandalized by the conversation. “Father's birthday is in December, and I bet he would love a pole dance from his wife.”
“You two are terrible.” Francesca shook her head hopelessly as she ushered them into the spa.
“That wasn't a no,” Eleanor smirked at Mirabelle.
“You're right. It wasn't.” Mirabelle agreed.
“It's not a yes either.”