Chapter 2
The very last thing he wanted was to have dinner with his parents.
He had been avoiding it for the past two weeks.
But he could not put it off any longer.
Besides, he was planning on going off the grid and he had to tell them something.
Not the where of it and not even the why, but he had to give them something.
He was very uncomfortable around them, and it felt weird, since they were the two people who had known him all his life and had given him life.
But growing up in that household had made him hard and cynical.
He had been brought up by a series of nannies, because in Hollywood it was the thing to do.
Hire someone else to raise your child, while you spend your time heaping up the praise and accolades.
His parents’ careers had taken precedence over raising him and it had taken him many painful years to realize that was who they were.
Blaine Whitlock was famous for his work; he had made his mark.
There was a star to prove it, and the many awards displayed on shelves made especially for the golden statues.
His mother was famous in her own field.
They were overachievers, which had pushed him into trying to be one as well.
But it was exhausting and as his therapist had pointed out during one of their sessions, trying to get their approval and their love was taking its toll.
Nothing he did had ever made them proud.
He had excelled in school, got mostly A’s.
He had been a sports enthusiast, joined almost every game possible and still it had never been enough.
It took him a while to figure out that they just did not care.
So, he had stopped trying and started to live his life for him, not giving a damn what they wanted from him.
Now he was having dinner with them, and he could feel the sweat pooling at his armpits, something that pissed him off enough to light a fire in his golden eyes.
The maid took his jacket with a silent nod of her head.
A new one, he noted without surprise.
His mother ran a very tight ship and the staff member who did not meet with her approval would be gone in a minute.
She was the ultimate entertainer, had to be since she was married to a very popular man.
Bryce was surprised that their marriage had lasted this long.
He knew his father had affairs, with actresses, lawyers, singers – Blaine Whitlock was not discriminatory.
And women gravitated to him.
It wasn’t his looks, which was not the pull, but the power that emanated from him drew them like magnets.
“Ms.
Maxine said to come straight to the dining room.”
“Thank you.”
Taking a deep breath, he headed down the wide hall, with its silky walls and expensive artworks.
He had been brought up here, in this coldly sterile luxury that had hardly changed over the years.
He had been sent away of course, for school and he considered that a blessing.
They were already seated at the twenty chairs dining table, sipping on pre-dinner drinks.
Maxine Whitlock was a stunningly beautiful woman and had passed the looks to her only child.
Her raven black hair was brushed ruthlessly back from a creamy unlined face and secured at the back of her head in an elegant chignon.
Long golden eyes watched as he entered the room, face expressionless.
A string of pearls nestled at her throat and the raw silk of her blouse made her skin looked luminous.
Her makeup was flawless.
“You’re late...!”
Her voice was smooth and cultured and could stop a person in their tracks.
“Traffic! Mother, dad.”
He knew better than to greet her with a kiss and took his place precisely in the middle of the dining table.
There was an informal dining room two doors down, but it was hardly used.
Lifting an elegant hand, his mother indicated that the meal should be served.
“You are no longer filming, I take it?”
“No.
We wrapped up a week ago.”
Reaching for the glass of water, he took a sip to try and ease his parched throat.
She knew he had finished with the filming of his latest movie, because his father would have mentioned it in passing.
“I have seen the preview,”
Blaine spoke for the first time since he arrived.
“And?”
Bryce knew better than to ask, but he could not help himself.
A one shouldered shrug met his answer and that was expected.
“Your co-star was not right for the part.
They could have done well to use someone with more allure and chemistry.”
Tamping down on his irritation, Bryce took another sip of water, a longer one this time.
“She was brilliant.”
Before his father could respond, the meal arrived.
Silence reined in the coldly elegant dining room as the maids put the food on the table.
And even after they had left, it remained.
It was impolite to have a conversation during the consumption of the food.
He had learned that painful lesson, when he was barely five.
Excited about what had happened at school, he had tried to tell his parents and had been told in a cold and stilted voice that it was bad table manners to speak at the dinner table.
He had been sent to his room and not allowed to eat with them for a week.
The only sound was the clink of utensils as they went through the several courses.
Bruce hardly tasted anything and could not wait for the meal to end.
The only thing that was keeping him sane right now was the fact that he would not have to put himself through this bloody torture for several weeks.
He was looking forward to it.
After the final course had been consumed, he felt the tension lifting.
It was getting close to the end.
They would have dessert in the blue and gold living room and conversation would be expected.
The ornate clock chimed softly, signaling the end of the meal.
His mother rose gracefully, her every movement a study in elegance and control.
Bryce followed suit, his father trailing behind, as they all made their way to the blue and gold living room.
The room was opulent, with plush velvet sofas and gilded mirrors reflecting the soft glow of the chandeliers.
Bryce settled into a chair, feeling the familiar weight of expectation pressing down on him.
His mother took her usual seat by the fire, while his father chose a spot by the window, his gaze distant and unfocused.
A maid appeared with a silver tray, offering delicate pastries and steaming cups of coffee.
Bryce accepted a cup, wrapping his hands around the warm porcelain.
The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating.
Finally, his mother spoke, her voice breaking the tension.
"Your father and I have been discussing your future, Bryce.
Now that you have finished filming, we believe it is time for you to consider your next step."
Bryce's heart sank.
He had hoped for a reprieve, a chance to escape the relentless pressure and expectations.
But it seemed that his parents had other plans.
"What are your plans?" His mother continued, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Your father has an idea that would have the two of you working together.
It would be an excellent opportunity for you to further your career."
Bryce swallowed hard, the taste of coffee turning bitter in his mouth.
"Thank you, Mother.
I appreciate the effort, but I would like to take some time to myself first.
I need to recharge."
His father's eyes snapped to him, a rare flicker of emotion crossing his face.
"Nonsense," Blaine said sharply.
"You have had enough time to rest.
This is not a request, Bryce.
It is an expectation."
Bryce clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar frustration and helplessness rise within him.
He knew there was no use in arguing.
His future had already been decided for him, as always.
His mother studied him with those inscrutable golden eyes, her expression unreadable.
"We only want what is best for you, Bryce.
You have a gift, and it would be a shame to waste it."
Bryce forced a smile, nodding in agreement, "I am taking a break.”
The silence that greeted that was heavy and ponderous.
There were no eruptions of anger and outrage, which would be beneath them.
They had other more deadly arsenals and had been perfecting them for years.
He felt the silence pulsing around him with a force that had his armpits sweating and could feel it trickling down his back.
His parents used silence the way some people used words, but it was more effective.
Another of their weapon was to make him speak first, force him to in fact.
“I am going away for several weeks.”
He blurted out, cursing silently for constantly allowing them to feel as if he was still in short pants.
“Where would that be?”
He forced himself to look into her eyes.
“I am not sure yet,” he lied.
“I see.”
Placing the delicate China into the equally fragile saucer, she put them on the table at her elbow, careful to hit the place mat that had was there to preserve the rich cherry wood.
“What brought this on?”
Bryce looked first at her and then at his father who was watching him with narrowed eyes.
“I am burnt out.”
He was speaking the truth.
“I just need to regroup and decide what I am going to do next.”
“You are taking a break in the middle of a thriving high peak, in regard to your career? Do I need to remind you how fickle the public is?”
Blaine’s voice had not gone up a notch, but the effect of his words was potent.
“I don’t care,”
he muttered.
The sharp intake of breath from his mother told him how upsetting that was.
“Is that the way you want to spend the rest of your life?”
She demanded.
“Going off to God knows where to what? Stagnate? You’re a Whitlock…”
“The curse of my damn life.”
He rose, ignoring the warning look from both of them.
“Watch your tongue.”
“Why? Because this is holy ground? I am thirty-two years old and never once have you- either of you ever said to me that you’re proud of my accomplishments.
I have several movies that have grossed billions – is that enough? No!”
He dragged his hands through his already disheveled hair.
“I am sick to death of trying to gain your approval.
It’s a hopeless endeavor and frankly I am done.”
“Where are you going?”
He turned at the doorway and sent his dad a weary glance.
“Home to pack and go someplace where my name is not known.”
With that, he turned and walked out, feeling the tension easing from his shoulders.
*****
It had rained during the night and as a result, the air was especially clean and sweet.
The temp had dropped significantly.
One could feel the difference as soon as one stepped outdoors.
Inhaling the clean sharp air, Zahra wrapped the sweater around her and snuggled.
The scent of flowers blooming assailed her nostrils and had her smiling.
Her bedroom had a half balcony, something she had added to the structure only a year ago.
It had been a bit of an indulgence but was well worth it.
It was where she would come to think, to just sit and look over the grounds with its hilly terrain, the patch of roses she had planted just a few months ago.
The wave of leaves in trees that seem to tower towards the cobalt blue of the sky.
It was pure poetry and something that spoke to her every single day.
It was not yet dawn and she could still see the bright orb of the moon, slithering its silver light through the glossy green leaves.
Somewhere in the near distant, birds were chirping, and she could see the bushy tails of squirrels scampering up and down the sturdy trunks.
She relaxed on the cushions and took several cleansing breaths.
She had started painting as well.
She was not very talented, but the place just called for it.
The entire tiny town was picturesque and brought out the creativity, even if a body was not talented.
So, she had bought the necessary items, pads and paints, an easel and canvas to try and capture the sheer beauty of her surroundings.
And it was her time to relax, after being on her feet for most of the day and night.
The inn was practically empty now.
There was just the aged actor who was lingering and trying to decide what to do with his life.
She did not mind the man, not even his lewd remarks, which she brushed aside with practiced ease.
She had men coming on to her every now and then.
She knew how she looked, even though she never spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror.
At first she had spent years wishing she was a size two instead of being what was politically referred to as ‘plus sized’.
Her mother was petite, with willowy curves and small breasts.
And she had made her only child felt like an elephant.
Comments like: “God, you sound like a herd of elephant coming down the stairs.
I don’t see why you have to gallop.
Walk, practice moving gracefully at least.
I don’t see how you can be satisfied with the way you look.
I have gathered a few things from the internet for you to try and lose some weight.”
It had been that way since she was a little girl and had eroded her self-esteem and left her hating herself.
But now she was comfortable in her skin.
She was able to look in the mirror and not see an ugly gigantic female without shape.
She had learned to accept who she was and realized that people came in different packages.
She had not been in therapy since coming to Flower Hills and felt damn good.
This place had accomplished the seemingly impossible.
Picking up the cooling cup of coffee, she took a sip, a smile curving her lips as she looked forward to seeing the sun coming up between the trees.
*****
He was leaving from the club.
As a member of the exclusive establishment, he could reserve a suite of rooms, and he preferred doing that than staying in his sterile apartment where reporters had been camped out for the past week.
He was not only one of the hottest tickets in the entertainment industry, but he was the son of Blaine Whitlock.
Whatever he did made news.
He couldn’t take a leak or go for a random cup of coffee like normal people.
He had made the mistake of stepping into a hip bar in Manhattan and got into a drunken brawl with a patron and that had made front page news on some sleazy tabloid, which had brought his parents’ wrath on his head.
He wanted normal.
Signaling to the bartender, he waited for him to pour the desired drink.
“If it isn’t the hot movie star.”
The familiar voice drawled just as he was about to take a sip of his whiskey.
Instead of feeling offended, Bryce swiveled his head to look at the familiar face.
“Liam.
I was looking forward to having a solitary drink before kicking some privileged ass in the card room.”
The slim elegant man settled on the stool next to him and nodded, bringing the bartender over with a glass of scotch.
“Now that plan is shot to hell.”
Amused blue eyes settled on his face.
“What are you doing here? Last I heard, was that your movie just wrapped and is rumored to be even bigger than ‘Lost Cause’!”
“I am having some ‘me’ time.”
He tilted the glass to his lips and took a look around the room.
He was a fourth-generation member of the club and had been inducted so to speak since he was a boy.
He recalled coming here to sit on one of the padded chairs to have breakfast with his dad.
And how dazzled he had been to be included.
Now, he came here alone and preferred it that way.
He knew that his father used the place as his own pick-up place, something that turned his stomach.
“What does that mean?”
He slid his glance back to his friend and chuckled at the disgruntled look on his handsome face.
“It means that I want to be alone.
I am going into my eat, pray, and discover myself period.”
“No love?”
Liam lifted an amused brow.
“Not now.”
He shrugged restless shoulders.
“I am just in a place where my life is not what I need it to be.”
His friend settled back and sipped his drink contemplatively.
“I used to party a hell of a lot.
My life was just that, one big party.
I had no desire to settle down.
I was satisfied with life as it was. Until I met my darling wife.”
A smile played around his lips as he recalled the path his life had taken and the woman who had dropped into it in an unorthodox way.
He had never felt better or more fulfilled.
“I sincerely hope you’re not going to dispense some sort of bar stool psychology and tell me that in finding myself, I will discover love along the way.”
Liam chuckled at the image.
“Hell no.
I know my limitations.”
He lifted his glass in a toast.
“To finding out what matters.”
*****
“Sit for a bit, why don’t you?”
Mabel gestured to the chair in the corner of the crowded market as she took off her apron.
“The veal and lamb chops are fresh, and I have asked Marlene to package up several pounds to add to your usual order. Tea?”
She finished with a flourish and made a beeline for the refreshment counter that was available for her customers.
It was the middle of the day, and the market was not yet packed with shoppers.
The quaint store front shop had been a fixture in the tiny town since forever and Mabel, who had taken over from her own dearly departed mother, knew everyone around.
Bringing over two cups of steaming herbal brew, she set it on the table and went back to grab two plates of wafer-thin cookies.
“Now!”
She began briskly as she planted her ample frame in the opposite chair.
She picked up her cup and took a sip.
“Have you heard about Molly?”
It was strange to her to be in on the local gossip, but Zahra had come to expect it.
One could not simply stop in at the local market, the bakery or even the laundry and the hardware store without expecting to be in for a delay, where along with the purchases she would be provided with the latest news.
“No.”
Settling more comfortably in the chair, a smile on her lips as she waited to hear what was happening with Molly.
It took her half an hour to hear about Molly’s trip to Los Angeles to find herself a husband, which had not worked out quite well and brought her back to town.
Then it was off to the bakery where along with her boxes of strawberry shortcakes and trifles, she was introduced to Bill’s nephew who just flew in from Wyoming to stay with his uncle.
“He’s in a bit of trouble,”
Bill told her in an undertone, “got mixed up with the wrong crowd and had my poor sister going crazy and not knowing what to do.
Guy, package four of those eclairs for Ms. Zahra.”
He winked at her, blue eyes twinkling.
“Made this just this morning.
On the house.
Will you be attending the concert later on this evening?”
“Would not miss it for the world.”
She smiled at the blushing young man with the pimples on his forehead as he handed her the white paper bag.
“Good.”
Bill nodded as he handed her back her card.
“the Fall Festival is coming up and we’re looking for volunteers to man some of the booths.
We’re hoping you will join the planning committee this time.”
“I am not promising anything, but I will certainly be interested in taking on a booth or two.”
Excellent.”
The man beamed at her and gestured for his nephew to take her bags out to the car.
“Have you heard about Molly?”