Date: Sat, 2 Mar 2024 22:09:47 -0500 From: Ronald Speener Subject: Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 11 Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 11 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 All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the copyright owned to the extent permitted by law. Please contribute to Nifty. They do a great job of providing stories that please the senses, titillate the mind, and expand our view of the world. Chapter 11--Home for Now They arrived in New York at 11:30 AM, the six hour time zone change compressing the clock on the 9 hour flight. Both were exhausted when they walked into their Brooklyn condo to the cheery voice of Beach welcoming them home. It felt so good to be home. They threw their luggage by the front door, found the bedroom and bed, and promptly fell asleep. By 4:00 PM hunger was more demanding than sleep. Since they were awake, Beach recited all the people that had called or knocked while they slept. Millie was high on their list to see. "We can do supper at Stella's and take Millie with us. Juan and Zack should be able to join us, if they are home." Tom pulled out his phone to call Cynthia, and then Chaz. Chris was on his phone with Helga, then Millie and last Juan. After a half-hour they looked at each other. "All calls made?" Tom asked. "Who knew we had so many people invested in our lives." Chris added with huff. "Maybe we should implant trackers so that all our friends, family, and work knows where we are." "We would still need to call and let them know what we are doing." Tom slouched in a chair at the kitchen island. "Sirs," Beach's voice broke the pause of silence. "Millie is at the door." Tom told Beach to let her in. "Boy, boys, I am so happy to have you home." Her hands were fluttering around her chest like leaves on an aspen. Following her were Liam, Dan, and Matias. All asking questions. Chris wanted to frown and chase them all out, but all he could do was grin idiotically at Tom. Millie went to the wine fridge and pulled out a sauvignon blanc, Matias gathered enough wine glasses, and Liam retrieved the cork screw. In a wink, everyone had wine and was seated in the living room. How Dan convinced Beach to pull up the Internet was a question for latter. "We have been following your exploits like groupies during the whole trip." Millie said as the friends looked between Tom and Chris. "You have a knack for attracting attention, which is dutifully posted on both of your websites." Liam said with a chuckle. Tom looked at Chris; they knew about the website for Chris, but now Tom had one too. "We appreciated the brief messages and the few pictures, but they were but the nuts on a hot fudge sundae trip." Matias was sitting at the edge of the chair. Dan took over for Matias. "Since you landed in London, you both have made waves. Holy fuck, you mingled with the Académie--the fucking Académie Française. You are wanted for seminars at my university to discuss just that." Dan began scrolling through over ten pages of newspaper clippings, photos, and comments in English, French, and Italian. "I don't know what to say." Chris cuddled closer to Tom. "Nothing was planned, nothing was orchestrated. It just happened, and we were along for the ride." Everyone stopped talking and stared at Chris like he was a fish on the sidewalk and started laughing. Millie stood and walked over to Chris and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't ever change my dear boy, you a precious but extremely naïve." Tom stopped further conversation by stating the he and Chris were famished and were heading to Stella's for supper. They were all invited to join them. Tom counted people and found Harold and Louisa present, each with a glass of wine. "We need to ask for a van and let Stella know she has a crowd coming." They arrived at Stella's and were met at the door by Benji, who was grinning like he ate the last Oreo, "We are using the meeting room." Not sure why, Chris, Tom, and the group followed Benji. Several of the patrons in a booth took pictures with their cell phones. Chris was so accustomed to paparazzi that he ignored it. In the backroom was Stella and Stan, Juan and Zack, Cordelia, Chaz and Boyd with C.T., Chet and Hector with the Donaldsons. A banner announced "Welcome Home". "I think we were set up," Tom whispered to Chris. Chris could only nod as they were swept into the hoard. Chris and Tom were handed champagne. Stella's did not serve any liquor, but.... From the kitchen came Ollie and Louis each carrying a chafing dish to a long buffet table. "Food," Chris yelled at the top of his voice and rushed to be first in line. "I may have dined on some of the best Italian and French food, but nothing is as good as you find at home with friends." Everybody cheered and formed the line. Chris and Tom were seated at the head of the table. It was dictated by Liam that each person at the table would ask one question, and then the person next to them would ask one question proceeding clockwise. Halfway through the meal, Ralph (Jazzabel) and his wife came in like a glitter ball. "My dearest friend and fellow performer." His bellowing filled with laughter. "You showed those Frenchies how to do a drag show. I am very proud of you." "You did a drag show in France?" several people asked. Obviously that was not on the websites. Chris stood to face Jazzabel and the crowd. "Yes, but I only performed like I do at Jazzabel's--piano and singing. A friend I met while modeling in Paris was the instigator; his boyfriend does the music for Les Sept Soeurs, the Seven Sisters Club. He asked me to perform. Since performing is my way of relaxation, I did. It was fun." "Chris," Ralph walked up to Chris and put an arm around him. "You are too modest. You brought the house to tears with your singing." He nodded to the back of the room; his son brought in a computer and projector. "You do know that several people taped the show. My contacts, which are worldwide, sent me several copies, which I have edited for quality." Ralph nodded again. The blinds for the one window were closed and the lights were dimmed. On the long wall projected was Chris's voice singing Cole Porter's "I Love Paris" to a marquee that said, "Chris Conquers Paris." For forty-five minutes was a professional production of Chris and Claude singing, hamming it up, and having fun. There were often cut-aways to the audience laughing, applauding, or enraptured. The video ended after Chris's love song to Tom, with Claude doing haunting backup with the audience in tears. Then followed the credits with comments from the audience and the other performers. After a long silence, Ralph said, "That is entertainment in any language." Several patrons from the restaurant crowded into the back of the room started to applaud, and like a wave the rest of the room joined in. Chris stood, tears running down his face, uncertain what to say. All eyes turned to Chris. "I did not know it would be circulated. And Ralph this recording is beyond professional. It makes me look amazing." People laughed. "Thank you. And thank you all my friends, who know the bitchy, judgmental, ornery me, and still stand by me. "Each of us have times when we need help and times when we give help. That is what friendship is about. Most of you know my journey, which is still in progress, to be a real boy. You have been encouraging, yelled at me when I needed, scolded me when I get to overwhelmed. You give me so much, and I want you to know how much I appreciate all of it." Chris turned to Tom. "If you had not taken pity on a solitary match boy," Chris wiped a tears away from his face. "I would not have found the greatest love of my life. Together we are stronger than the Eiffel Tower, more solid than the pyramids, more ground than the tallest tree. I thank you and love you always." Chris sat not able to continue. "Wow," Ralph said, "You know how to sway a crowd. But Chris, just so you know that we are here because you give so much to us: your talent, your smile, a kind ear that truly listens, a heart that wants the best for each of us, and the gift to show us how." Ralph handed Chris a CD of the video. "You have exclusive copywrite privileges to this content. I have waivers signed by Josephine La Reine, her staff, and her performers, as well as the original ownership of the raw footage, they were more than happy for a mention in the credits." Chris stood to take the copy. "They did ask, however, that you autograph copies of the video for them." "Anyone for dessert," Ollie yelled, as Louis, Stella, and Benjie trays of Crème Brule ala Louis. After another hour Chris began to wilt. "Time to take my man home and tuck him into bed. It has been a wonderful evening, but jet lag can claim the best." Millie and Liam returned with Chris and Tom. The rest stayed to party. Chris and Tom were in late to Dreamweavers--East. Cynthia and Adam met them first thing for a meeting with Ted, Jordan, Irene from Tuxed-in, and Leo and Ray from Leo's Tramp Wear. The tenor of the meeting was effusive. Business for both design houses was beyond what they could handle. They were adding staff, meeting with retailers, and up to their armpits in requests. They wanted Chris and Tom to exclusively feature their clothes. That was not possible since Tom was still under contract with another design house. The final decision was that Chris would not sign with any design house. He would wear what was appropriate for the situation because Chris seemed to fall into unplanned events with last minute needs. It was Tuxed-In the met the challenges of almost immediate designs like in Milan and Paris. They would be the first call for emergency clothing. Everybody felt that this was a good relationship, and it would continue. After the meeting, Chris met with three potentially new models. He was only impressed with one, who was more interested in fashion as a career than the other two, who were more interested in fashion as a lifestyle. By 4:30 they were back at the condo packing to fly to Chicago for two days. Millie stopped by to see them off with the understanding that they would be back in New York in about two weeks. They arrived at Cedrick's Aurora Hotel at 9:30 PM exhausted. They ordered room service, which Zack delivered, although he had been promoted from room service to customer service. He took one look at Chris and Tom, turned down the bed, put soft music and low lights, and left with a kiss on each's cheek with an admonition to sleep. By 9:30 AM the two were at Dreamweavers--Central feasting a bagels, cream cheese, lox, and Danish with Stu, Helga, Gorky, and Miriam talking about the fashion weeks and Dreamweavers--Europe. Stu and Helga had received several calls from London, Milan, and Paris about the Europe project, offers of assistance and financing, and an impatience to have the project finished. It was decided that after the first of the year, major effort would be put into the project to have it functioning by the end of April. Sooner would be better, but there were Chris and Tom's weddings and then Chris's surgery. Tom and Chris already had a positive reputation in Europe, and they needed to be part of the development. Chris and Tom were asked to sit in on a business meeting between the three division. All three division reported an increase in inquiries and vetting was several weeks behind. Kat was particularly anxious to have Chris and Tom home to handle the over-flow. It was decided that audition tapes would be used for all candidates and reviewed by Chris, if available, and designated personal in each division. Also it was unanimously decided to limit Chris and Tom's modeling work to major accounts. Their talents were now needed in development of Europe. Chris and Tom spent extensive time describing the reception in Europe, a SWOT analysis, which Tom handled with authority, and the potential for new talent. Chris talked about Claude and showed the CD that Ralph, Jazzabel, gave him. Kat was particularly interested, because Hollywood needed a new French star, like Louis Jordan, but that could sing. Kat would contact Claude and discuss doing an audition tape. The meeting dragged on when Stu said it was enough for the day. Chris and Tom were sent back to their hotel to prepare for a dinner reception at the Ritz at 7:30. The reception and dinner was boring with good, but predictable food. Since Chris and Tom were back in the States, their beverages were water, juice, soda, coffee, or tea. Until a waiter approached offering both a ginger ale, which was champagne, with the comment that they needed the sparkle. Chris whispered to Tom that he wished they were back in Europe and treated like adults. Of course, there was plenty of meet and greet with Tom and Chris the recipient of much of the attention. There was local pride that Chris, one of Chicago's own was an international sensation. Where was that pride three years ago, Chris mused, but he smiled, said thank you, and poise for insipid pictures. A few of the younger men and a couple of the older ones flirted or made direct propositions, which amused Chris and with charm he declined. Chris noticed that Tom was similarly assaulted with propositions, which ticked Tom off to the point of being rude. Once Chris rescued Tom before a scene was created. It was a simple kiss on the cheek, a mention of being his fiancé, and a possessive glare that threatened harm. They were both mostly safe for the rest of the evening. Every time they found time to sit, either, Stu, Helga, Gorky, or Miriam were pulling them to meet important people, like the mayor, or a senator, or a business tycoon. Chris, to Tom's chagrin, remained charming and engaged even to the most vapid or pompous conversations. Each person left the conversation, which Chris adroitly often ended, feeling special. The most challenging was meeting Donald Trump, who was in Chicago campaigning; he had positioned himself near the center of the room with a bevy of followers worshiping him. Mrs. Vaugh, the hostess of the event, introduced Chris and Tom to Mr. Trump. He looked at them and commented how he had made millions before he was twenty. "I know how to make a deal." He smiled a sick smile and said, "I would add you to my campaign as background, but I prefer big tits." Mrs. Vaugh blushed and led Chris and Tom away complaining about the nouveau riche. At 10:30, Tom told Stu that he and Chris were leaving. They needed their sleep because they were not totally recovered from jet lag. Helga heard and hustled them to the door and a waiting cab. Back in the hotel room dressed in house coats and sipping from a bottle of wine, complements of the house, Chris pulled Tom to face him. "If I ever show a desire to go into politics, shoot me. That was one of the most horrible nights I have ever had." Tom raised a glass in agreement. "Let's shower the hypocrisy off and go to bed. We need to be at Dreamweavers by 10:00." They both downed the contents of their glasses and went to wash the night away. Chris awoke early, unsettled. Slowly he crawled out of bed, careful not to wake Tom, who snuffled while he slept. Chris showered and dressed for the day, not sure why he felt anxious. He made a pot of coffee and took it to the living area of the room and sat cross-legged on the sofa. He wanted to chalk his malaise up to jet lag, but he felt rested, but not. After quite reflection and a few sips of coffee, he realized that it was his life as a whole. Since April, six months, his life has shifted 180 degrees and that shift then peeled out at high speed like a drag car. In six months he found fame, money, family and love. But has all that changed him. Now gender reassignment was a reality not a dream, but what did that mean, what did life look like after surgery? Would he still be he? He had been told repeatedly to merge the best of the feminine with the best of the masculine. But what was that? Psychobabble? He stood. He needed to walk. The area around the hotel was a mix of commercial and residential. He had never looked at any of the shops that built their livelihood on the hotel and the younger, hipper, residents of the area. It was early and all the shops were closed: Knit Me, Dragon's Breathe Tea Shoppe, and I'mporiem, a new age store. He turned the corner to find a large glass window and a young man sitting on a sofa carving. At his feet was this beautiful red fire engine that the man obviously carved. The door was unlocked, so Chris walked in. The man looked up but said nothing, only watched. Chris spotted in a corner the trunk of a tree. It was over seven feet tall and at least three inches around. Chris put his hand on the trunk feeling its age--a good 300 years likely ripped from the ground to make a strip mall. Chris walked over to the young man, dressed in old jeans and a faded T-shirt littered with wood shavings. "That is an amazing piece of wood." Chris pointed at the tree trunk. "Yeh, saved it from a chipper. I want to carve it as a wedding gift to my fiancé." He sighed, `but don't know what yet. "By the way I'm Paul. You here looking at cabinetry for the kitchen?" "No, although I suspect you do fine work." "My dad does the work, I only assist. So what you in here for. You don't strike me as a robber or rapist." Paul laughed softly. It was a warm sad laugh. "No, I saw the fire truck. It is beautiful workmanship, but it is also meant to be played with." "It's for a neighbor kid, he is turning four and is fascinated by fire trucks. His parents don't have much money, with five kids." He shook his head in disbelief that anyone these days would have that many. His soft brown hair fanned loosely at his shoulders. "I will give this to his parents to give to him on his birthday. I am carving the firemen now." He handed Chris the fireman he was working on. The face still needed details, but the completed body conveyed strength, determination, and dedication. "This is beautiful." Chris handed the piece back. "You should carve professionally. Do you have more work?" "Plenty," he stood, now exited to have a like soul. He led Chris to a back room and a selves filled with carvings. "My dad, says there is no money in whittling." The hurt in the way he said it riled Chris. "Parents may want what is best for their children, but they seldom ask their children." Chris picked up a sculpture. About 18 inches tall. It was of a naked woman standing on a quarter sphere, arms raised in benediction. Her face conveyed both worry and determination. "The goddess Aurora?" "Good call. Most people don't know. I carved it with the intent of selling to the Aurora Hotel around the corner. But my dad said they would not buy any cheap shit." Chris studied the sculpture in detail. "You dad is dead wrong. I am friends of the owners of the hotel, and they would buy this. It is perfect for the reception desk. Would you sell it to me? Ariel would love this." Paul gave a nod that was both surprise and pleasure. "I want to look at your other sculptures. Chris looked at each piece; some were realistic and some were abstract; they all played with volume and light in a masterful way that conveyed emotions. He pulled a sculpture of a mountain goat stepping precariously on a thin ridge. The back of the goat was part of the mountain. A gift for his parents. He found a sculpture of two naked men, arms around each other's waist staring off into the future. Love and determination in their stance. Paul blushed a little at the very anatomically correct sculpture. "It was to be a gift to my older brother, who is gay, and his boyfriend. They plan to marry next year. But dad wanted me to destroy it because it is pornography." Paul gave Chris an inquisitive smile. "I didn't" "I would be proud to receive a gift like this and display it for all to see. You need to give it your brother, so he knows that he has your love and support." He handed the sculpture to Paul. Chris picked up another sculpture, abstract but almost figural. It was tall and heavy, standing almost three feet tall. It was two types of wood, woven around each other in a dance. "That is made of oak and maple. I found an oak and maple tree growing so close together that they merged." Chris could tell Paul was proud of this piece. "It is a masterpiece." Chris set it next to the other two sculptures. Chris's phone beeped with a text. Chris looked at the message and texted back. "My fiancé. He is wondering where I am. I hope you don't mind if he joins us." Paul had no issues, and in fact was looking forward to meeting the man that snagged Chris. Tom found Chris and Paul in the backroom. After introductions, Chris showed Tom the items he liked. Tom studied the Aurora sculpture intensely and proclaimed the Cedrick would love the piece. Then Tom explained that Cedrick was his cousin and owned the Aurora hotel chain. "I thought the mountain goat for my parents, and the other one for our home. We need something for your parents and for...whomever." Tom studied the over one dozen pieces, and selected four more. "This for my parents." Tom showed Chris the sculpture of four children playing in the sand. "These will make nice Christmas or wedding gifts." He smiled at Paul who was beaming with pride. "And since we know where you work Paul, we will be back." Tom put the four pieces next to Chris's three. "What do we owe you Paul?" Paul sputtered. He had not even considered a price. "Say $100.00 each, if that is not too much?" Chris and Tom both frowned at Paul. He started to make another offer. "Paul, you are selling these way too cheap. I think a fair price, from what I have seen in galleries would be $1000.00 each." Paul coughed, unable to catch his breath at Tom's offer. "You do take plastic?" Chris asked with a happy grin. Chris took the small sculpture Tom chose for his parents. "There is one small concern before we close the deal." Paul stood rigid. "The pieces need your signature." Paul laughed and quickly retrieved a small router tool and signed each on the base. Chris looked around the room at the sample cabinets, which were finely made and then spotted in a corner a large metal object. "What is that?" "It was an attempt at a large metal sculpture. My dad plans on scaping it, but I like it." Chris walked over and studied it. It was mostly tubular with hints of two human figures pointing upward with four small tubular flower around the base. All the flowers pointed in the same general direction but were bent at different angles. "Astronomical?" asked Chris. Paul blushed pleased that someone recognized what it was. It is my interpretation of a sundial. The two pointing tubes will align with the Summer and Winter Solstice noon sun. The tubes and be positioned for any latitude. The flowers at the bottom are for rising or setting suns depending upon the orientation. Chris helped Tom pull it away from the wall. Although it was composed of straight tubes, he had movement and volume. "Would you sell it for $10,000?" Tom was kneeling in the floor looking up a tube. Tom turned to Chris, "I was thinking by the front entrance in L.A.." Paul backed away from Tom and Chris wondering if he was being punked. How could two people barely twenty afford to spend $17,000 dollars without a blink. They did mention L.A., maybe they are movie stars. They have the looks. Tom handed Paul his credit card. It was on a bank in England. "Don't worry, it will work on any machine." Tom smiled with reassurance. Paul ran the card. The machine did nothing. Tom's phone rang. "Yes sir, I did make a purchase for a total of $17,000. I appreciate your approving the transaction." The machine pinged "Transaction Approved." Paul pulled out the two receipts had Tom sign one and gave the other to Tom. "I texted Ariel with a few photos. She is interested in meet Paul." Chris told Tom and then turned to Paul. Ariel is Cedrick Greenwood's wife. She owns several art galleries. She has on in New York, Rome, Los Angeles, and Dubai. I am not sure where else. She will be stopping by next week to meet you and see if you would be interested in selling at her galleries." Paul stumbled back to a chair and sat down shocked. In a matter of an hour he sold his work, his work for more than the shop made in a month, and, and he might exhibit his work internationally. "Hey hon," came a feminine voice from the front door. "Thought I would drop by before work." She look and saw Chris and Tom. "Sorry to interrupt." "That is fine, we are about to leave." Chris gave the pretty woman in what looked like a store uniform. "Are you okay?" She looked at the pale Paul perched on the edge of the chair. She turned and scowled at Chris and Tom. "Gretch, I am fine, more than fine. They bought some of my sculptures." "Oh, that is wonderful. I always knew you were talented despite what your fathers says." She kissed him on the lips. "We need to leave." Tom interrupted the tender moment. "I will have someone by this afternoon to pack what we are shipping to Los Angeles." As they exited the store carrying the sculpture for Chris's parents and the one for the hotel, they heard Gretchen scream. "They paid how much?" Back at the hotel they set the Aurora sculpture on the reception desk. She looked like she was home. Chris sent a quick picture to Ariel. The day at Dreamweavers was tedious as they reviewed plans for opening Dreamweavers--Europe. Various task were assigned and time frames set. Key positions with tentative hire dates were finalized, as much as anything could be. Much of the preliminary work fell to Tom and Chris, with Tom finding space and Chris vetting personnel. Because of the Chris's surgery, tentatively scheduled for January. Chris would work from home in L.A. as a second interview for potential hires. Dreamweavers would set aside a budget for Chris's home office with ultra-high speed internet and recording space. Tom and Chris would need to decide where. Tom would do the February fashion shows without Chris, which did not make Chris happy, but he saw the reasons. And Chris would only take on select projects that could be done with minimal travel. Helga asked about a honeymoon. Chris and Tom both replied with a laugh maybe for our 25th. After changing from work jeans into suits, Tom and Chris cabbed to a restaurant that Chris's mother, Helen, hinted that she wanted to eat at through mentioning it several times to Britney. Brit had warned Chris to be prepared for Mother on Speed. Chris's trip to Europe was his mother's sole topic of conversation to the extent that people were considering duct tape. Supper would be her pumping Chris and Tom for details left out of the multiple text messages and photos Chris sent. Brit also warned to beware the flying scarf. Chris sent his mother a beautiful silk scarf from Dior. It was in the hotel gift shop, but his mother did not need to know. Chris had no time for shopping. Brit said that Mom flung the scarf around like it was in a wind storm so that everyone would notice. Chris and Tom laughed at the image. Chris and Tom were seated at their table when Chris's family arrived. Brit had understated Helen's demeanor. She told the hostess that they were to meet her son and his fiancé who had just returned from Europe where they were entertained by British, French and Italian royalty. The scarf, as by magic, flung back over her shoulder. She spotted Chris across the dining room. Chris wanted to die, as she threw up her hands and yelled, really yelled, that she was so glad he was safely home after all the publicity in Europe. Almost running, she threw herself into Chris's arms. She kissed him on the check and then did the same with Tom. She shoved both back into their chairs and sat in hers. "Please give me all the details of your journey. I only know what I read about in the gossip rags like Vogue." She looked around to see if she spoke loud enough to gain attention. Tom nudged Chris and tipped his head toward Chris Sr. and Brit walking slowly, like they were looking for another table. They eventually made it to the table after Chris shoved a glass of wine at his mother and mentioned that they had this in a bistro in Paris. It was a lie, but it refocused her attention. Chris Sr. give Tom and then Chris a strong hug, and Brit kissed both. "Nice to have you home and looking well but tired." Chris Sr. said. He looked over at Helen, who was savoring the wine. "It has been tough living with your mother these past few weeks. She is blowing your entire trip out of proportions. I am contemplating moving into a hotel or divorce." "If you do, I'm coming with you." Britney added with a frown at her mother. The waiter came to take orders. "Chris will decide for me. He has recently been to some of the best restaurants and Paris and knows quality." She looked at Chris so adoringly that Chris almost lost his meal before he ordered it. Half-way through the meal, Chris had enough of his mother's posturing. "Mother, are you trying to earn the hatred of everyone around you, including us?" Helen started to sputter. "I am appreciative that you are proud of Tom and me and the life we are now leading, but to rub it into other people's faces, who do not have children as well-known as us, is downright cruel." Helen blinked three times, coughed twice, looked at Chris and then Britney. "Oh my God, Chris, you are right. I've turned into those people I hate on TV who flaunt all their accomplishments. I am proud of you and Tom. And I am proud of Britney too. I do not need to tell people all of your exploits." She grinned deviously, "I will tell them little when asked and let them imagine even more." She smiled at Chris, Sr. and attacked her steak. When they were at dessert, Chris pulled out two packages. He handed one to his dad and the second to Britney. "Mom, your big gift has yet to arrive. It is antique dinnerware set for twelve. It's Limoges and said to have belonged to Napoleon III." Chris pulled out his phone and showed her pictures. She almost stood up and announced the gift, but a gentle hand from Chris stopped her. Chris, Sr. unwrapped his sculpture of the mountain goat. "Tom, Chris, this is exquisite. Where did you find it?" Chris said from a shop around the corner from their hotel and then explained the shop and owner. "I do not care where it came from. It is a masterful carving. I will put it on my desk next to the pictures of my three children." He looked directly at Tom. Britney shrieked when she opened her French cloisonne box to see a pair of green diamond art deco earrings. "They are from the late 1920s. The big stone at the bottom of the pendent is a green diamond and the smaller stones are white diamonds." Helen helped Brit remove her studs and place the new ones in. They contrasted beautifully with her hair. "Thank you Chris, Tom. I now need fancier places to go to show these off." They lingered over coffee reluctant to end the evening, but Chris and Tom were to fly home to Los Angeles in the morning. They said their good byes as cabs came to take each back to their places. Helen leaned in to Chris for a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you Chris, for stopping me being a total ass to your father and sister." Chris whispered back a simple I love you. Chris and Tom arrived home to Beach's cheerful welcome. It was late Friday evening and they were exhausted. "Bed," Chris mumbled and disappeared. Tom was not far behind. Morning and another flight was awaiting.