Date: Tue, 12 Mar 2024 15:19:04 -0400
From: Ronald Speener <boethiuscell@gmail.com>
Subject: Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 14

Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 14

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
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permitted by law.

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Chapter 14--Blessings

	Jacob arrived shortly after a convivial breakfast of soul
satisfying food to take them and Chaz, Boyd, Lois and Ollie to the
airport. The conversation in the limo was smutty and hilarious. Chris
looked at Ollie and Louis, who held hands and participated with vigor. They
are the next to marry, thought Chris.

	"Jacob? Where are you going? This is not the way to the airport."
Tom had glanced out the window and spotted the error.

	"Tom, I have lived here all my life. I know where I am going, so
shut up and let me drive."

	"But"

	"I said shut the fuck up." Jacob was grinning. Conversation halted
as everyone watched the scenery.

	"Why are we going to the Santa Monica Airport?" Boyd asked as the
sign for the airport flicked by.

"To catch a plane." Jacob was enjoying teasing his passengers.

"They have flights to New York?" Tom was not particularly concerned but
curious. He grew up in L.A. and things were always changing.

"Yup." Jacob drove past the terminal to a small building. "Here we are. You
need to go inside to check in while I get the luggage to the plane. He
drove off and to the side of the building.

"The guys are here," Miriam said with humor. "And they look like they were
hit with a baseball bat.

"Jacob's taking care of the luggage?" Stu looked up from his laptop. Nat
and Linc were sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs trying to be
comfortable. Dorn had his camera out taking pictures of the building's
trusses. And Helga was applying makeup with the aid of a small compact
mirror.

	Tom said, "He said he was taking them to the plane. Why are we
here?"

	Helga looked up from the mirror. "To fly to New York, silly." She
laughed which caused her lipstick to move off her lips. "Fuck. We chartered
a plane. It is cheaper than us all flying commercials. We can also work
during the flight."

	"You are all going to New York? Not Chicago?" Chris felt he knew
the reason, but wanted confirmation.

	"There's this big private party tonight that we are invited to."
Linc decided it was more comfortable to stand. "We hear it will be mega
fun."

	Cynthia, who had been in the restroom, walked over to Chris, took
his arm and spoke. "Chris, dear. The rumor is that this party is the place
to be. Half of New York is begging for an invite. You and Tom are the `it'
couple. Liza may even show. You know how she loves gay men."

	"Shit." Chris wandered off until he found a chair. Yup they were
uncomfortable. Tom sat in a chair next to Chris. "I thought it would be a
small gathering of our friends."

	"A small gathering of our friends would be over 100 people,
Chris. Just relax, you are not the host. Jazzabel has taken care of
everything.

	"That is what I am afraid of. But a charter flight will be nice."

	Jacob walked into the terminal from the tarmac. "The plane is ready
to board. Please follow me."  Like ducklings everybody followed Jacob, who
made sure everyone was on the plane before he boarded.

	"Welcome to Dreamweavers-Charter." A crisply dressed young lady
said as she checked her passenger manifest. "Once everyone is seated and
buckled in we will take off. I am Jennifer, your host for this flight. If
you need anything, please ring. Call buttons are beside every chair.

The interior of the plane was not like any plane he had ever been on. There
was a conversation area with leather sofas, recliner chairs and a flat
screen TV. Beyond the sitting area was a long table with flowers in a
crystal vase. Chris and Tom found a sofa and belted themselves in. Nat and
Linc did the same across from them. Soon everyone was seated.

The engine came to life, a soft purr rather than a roar. "As I said my name
is Jennifer. I am your host for this flight which will be about 3 hours and
45 minutes. We have a strong tail wind so the trip will be faster. Under
your seats are floatation devices should we need to do a water landing.
Above each seat is a drop-down oxygen mask, please put them on should we
lose air pressure. The captain says that flying conditions are good with no
weather problems. Once we are at cruising altitude. I will pass out menus
for lunch and take drink orders. There is a restroom in the back with a
full shower should you need to freshen up. If you need your luggage, let me
know and I can retrieve it from the tail section of the plane. Again, if
you need anything, let me know." Jennifer sat down next to the door to the
pilots' cabin and buckled herself in. Chris watched the runway flit by and
then the skyline of L.A. and the Pacific, glinting in the sun.

	Chris, Tom, Nat and Linc chatted about the wedding, how quiet the
plane was and Tracey and Britney.

	"May I take drink orders," Jennifer's voice was pleasantly
modulated to sound friendly by not obsequious. "And here are the menus for
lunch. If there are dietary restrictions, please let me know." Chris
ordered a Seabreeze while the rest said Bombay martinis.

	"This is a fancy menu for a plane." Nat whispered as she studied
the menu. "It is a three-course meal. I like this way of flying. Even first
class is not this good."

	"Emirate first class is stellar."  Chris looked around the
cabin. "But this is far more comfortable."

	"Have you made your selections?" Jennifer had returned, smiling
like a Raphael Madonna. Chris had the lobster cocktail, fruit and cheese
salad, and apple crisp. Tom had the same except for a prime rib sandwich.
Nat and Linc followed Chris's lead except chocolate mousse instead of the
crisp. When she asked about beverages, they all chose coffee. "Very good.
Would you like to eat here or at the table? I can bring small tables if you
want to eat here."

	"Chris, Tom, Nat." Stu interrupted the conversation about scary
movies. "After lunch we will have a board of director's meeting."

	"Yup, a working trip." Chris laughed along with everyone else.

	The board meeting was boring and mundane. Chris and Tom were given
business cards. Chris shared his with Tom and Tom passed his to Chris. Tom
was VP of Acquisitions and Chris VP of Talent. A good thirty minutes was
spent discussing their duties alongside modeling. Chris, as he traveled,
was to seek out promising talent. Then the financials for the company were
reviewed. It was very healthy.  Helga talked about the company purchase of
this jet. With the frequent trips between the three locations, it was more
economical to own a plane. The plane would be available for renting when
not in use by Dreamweavers.

	"Now we come to an important discussion since both Tom and Chris
are new to the board." Stu looked at Tom; Tom squirmed nervously. "Chris,
Tom, you did an excellent job promoting the idea of Dreamweavers-Europe.
Because of you two, we have had several requests for our services outside
the three locations in the States. We have not set any time frame for
Dreamweavers-Europe because of logistics. But yesterday that changed." Stu
looked at Tom and then Chris. "With Tom needing time in England to fulfil
family obligations, his time here in the States is limited. Both
Dreamweavers-East under the direction of Adam and Dreamweavers-West under
Natalie are doing well and scheduled to grow. Chris, while a very
sought-after model, is even more valuable as a talent evaluator, hence the
title. He will be needed more in the four locations than on the runway.
Sorry Chris. Tom did an excellent assessment of the intrinsic value of
Rising Star and the obstacles for its success. He fixed the problems and
now that branch has more inquiries than it can handle. And Chris you have
brought in more gifted talent than we have seen in ten years. We are
confident the two of you can do the same in Europe."

	Stu took a sip of coffee. "Back to Tom's family obligations. And
the requests to expand our services. Several of the fashion houses in
London, Milan and Paris were very impressed, very impressed by the
professionalism and quality of our talent, namely you two. They would like
to use us as their primary agent for talent. This would mean expediting the
opening of an office in Europe. Since Tom and by extension Chris will be in
Europe, we would have two key people in place."

	Chris raised his hand. Stu nodded. "I personally am not processing
totally what this all means, and why the two of us. No offence but most of
you are old enough to be our parents. I just think people with more
experience would be better. Also, there is the time frame. We are
approaching the holiday, and after the first of the year, I will have major
surgery. The recovery will be four to six weeks."

	"Yes, Chris, you bring up two valid points. First your age, while
tender, does not mean you are not astute. You cultivate people like a
garden. I don't know how, but you have met some of the most powerful people
in Hollywood, convinced them that Dreamweavers is a first-rate company. You
have done the same in New York, London, Milan, and Paris. You may not know
this but people respect you. And Tom, I would not have said this a year
ago, but you have matured into a thoughtful, perceptive adult." Chris
wanted to object more but Stu cut him off. "As for the second
reason. Chris, you have always been forthright about your gender
reassignment plans. We support you in this because it is what you need to
be whole. I do not expect to actively start the Europe branch until April
or May of next year by which time you should be back to full strength."

	"Is the European plan why you put us on the board?" Tom asked, the
scowl said he was not happy about this development.

	"No, absolutely not." Helga stood next to Stu said with a
scowl. "But when the issue of you needing to be in England more frequently,
it became a natural fit. You both can refuse, if you want. Your value to
Dreamweavers will not lessen." Helga sat.

	Adam stood and shoved a manilla folder to Chris and Tom. "That is a
copy of emails and letters from Europe and the Middle East requesting our
services. Right now, I cannot accommodate them."

Tom looked at the list, "Holy shit this is impressive."

Adam nodded and continued. "The revenue from Europe, if we opened right
now, would be equal to that of Chicago and New York. L.A. is still growing
fast and shows signs of very good returns."

"We have just bought a house in L.A. because you wanted us there." Chris
looked at Helga, Adam, and Stu. "I have spent less than a month living
there. Now we are to transfer ourselves to England."

"We have a place there, so we would not need a new home." Tom placed a
gentling arm on Chris.

"That place is three hours from London, which is where the offices would
need to be." Chris smiled wearily at Tom. "I want a place that is mine,
that is home, that I can have a dog and raise children." Chris sank back
into his chair.

"Chris," Helga looked at Chris with sympathy. "We are not asking you to run
the London offices, just help set them up, help hire the people that will
run it well." Helga loved Chris and wanted him happy. "I know that the last
two months have been difficult with all the flying, which is one reason we
bought the plane. This plane has a bedroom and is comfortable and can make
transatlantic flights. I know this is a lot to take in at once. Give it
some thought and let us know what you are thinking. One of the reasons that
Dreamweavers is successful is that we want all of our employees to like
their jobs. Since I first met you in March, you have been a true team
player. We do not want to burn you out, especially with all the changes
happening in your life. Everyone at this table is here to support and help
you. Think about what excites you and what you want to do in the
future. The fashion industry is fickle. Right now, you are in demand until
some other beautiful face captures the masses."

"Thanks Helga. I am tired and the party tonight is going to be long. Do you
mind if Tom and I try out the bedroom?"

Jennifer showed Chris and Tom to the bedroom, it was four stars. Chris fell
on the bed and was immediately asleep. Tom spooned Chris and followed him
into the arms of Morpheus.





Chris and Tom arrived home by 6:30 PM New York time. Stu wanted to take
everybody out to dinner at 8:00. The party was to start at 10:00 and last
until... . This gave Chris and Tom a chance to shower and dress for the
party. Chris pulled out the two T-shirts with the images of Chris and Tom
that they were given when they left Chicago for New York. Chris had never
worn his because the secret flap was too embarrassing, but tonight he felt
liberated. He inflated his prosthetic slightly, slipped on a pair of tight
yellow leather pants, pink high tops, pink muscle shirt and a pink leather
belt. He found pink nail polish, left by his sister, and did his
nails. Finally, he added a heliotrope silk scarf. If this did not scream
queen, nothing would. But he did not care. He felt sexy and daring.

Tom came out of the bathroom fresh from his shower. He looked at Chris with
both lust and dismay. This was so not Chris, but he liked the look. He
liked how Chris held himself erect and proud. "What do you think?" Chris
turned to face Tom. "Too much?"

"Not what I expected from you, but it is perfect. The pants set off the
shirt perfectly. And the pink and heliotrope are the perfect accent. Your
fashion sense is improving. And I like that you are willing to be more
daring. And it is as sexy as hell. I want to fuck you right now."

"I laid your clothes for you, if you don't mind. You can wear something
else if you want."

Tom walked over to the bed. The matching shirt was a given, but the tight
red leather pants, black leather knee boots with a small heel was a
delightful surprise. Tom dressed. The pants were lined with silk so they
did not stick and felt like soft hands on his bare skin. "These pants are
going to keep me hard all night." Tom pulled Chris's back against his chest
and rubbed his junk into Chris's ass.

"That's my intention." Chris turned to kiss Tom. He waved his wedding ring
in Tom's face. "This says you're mine. I want everyone lusting over what
they cannot have."

"You are evil, pure evil." Tom chuckled into Chris's ear as he nibbled on
it. "I love you and your dark side."



Supper was delicious. Both Gorky and Miriam teased about the attire, but
both thought it was fashion forward and looked great on the two. Linc was
fascinated by the rabbit on Tom's shirt, which revealed a naked Chris. Nat
loved the design and quality, publicly; privately she liked the privates.

At 9:30, they arrived at Jazzabel's; several people were begging to get in,
but the bouncers, there were two, demanded invitations. Chris was startled
by a flash as he exited the limo Stu rented. The paparazzi were out. Chris
smiled, waited for Tom to exit, grabbed his arm and walked into Jazzabel's
smiling for the camera. This was his man, his husband.

The inside of Jazzabel's was packed. The entire co-op was present. Millie
was the first to look behind the flap in the shirts. "Nice man bits there."
She laughed, not the least bit embarrassed. After her comment Chris and Tom
detached the flap to prevent damage.

"Chris, Tom, how does it feel to be married." Jazzabel gushed as she kissed
both. She was in full queen mode wearing a red full-length sequined dress,
stuffed with oversized falsies, and matching sequin shoes. The vermilion
hair with white baby's breath and white tea roses completed her
ensemble. His wife was tastefully elegant in black. She laughed at Chris's
comment about being too elegant for her husband. "I dare not compete with
my lovely peacock." She kissed both Tom and Chris on the cheek. Jazzabel
retook the conversation. "How are your fingers tonight? I have been
practicing new and obscure songs." She laughed like the world exploded
confetti.

"I'm prepared. I have a new one that will stump you." Chris's lips slanted
up on one side. "Worry, worry deeply you old hag."

Jazzabel roared. "Old hag. Please, I am a gorgeous old hag." She roared
again.

Soon Chris was pulled away by Lizette and her brother, who offered
congratulations and loved the shirts. Then the Donaldsons, and Chet and
Hector. Stu, took command and organized a receiving line. Ariel shoved a
double scotch in Chris's hand while Cedrick did the same with Tom. "You
will need this. The crowd is rowdy and hungry, and you two are the meal."
Ariel was moved out of the way by the entire staff of Slackers.

Cordelia Duncan took a step back to appraise the two. "I like the look; it
is daring, especially the shirts, but on you two, it is perfect." She
kissed them both "I am so happy for you. Now I just need Zack to move his
ass."

"He moves his ass just fine," Juan said as he rubbed Zack's behind.

"No complaints in the ass department. Juan is a total top, but all mine."
Zack's eyes roved over Juan's body with desire. "If he is good, he might
get some ass." Chris loved his friends: they were sexy, caring, and
uninhibited, at least around him.

"Time to get the party rolling." Jazzabel screamed into a microphone. "If
we could get the happy couple up on stage." Chris was whisked off the floor
and body surfed to the stage, where he was gently put down. Tom landed
shortly after. Two oversized chairs were rolled out. Chris was placed in
one and Tom in the other. A gilt throne with glued on plastic gems was
placed between them.  "You know how newlyweds are." Jazzabel ran the
microphone suggestively across her hand. "Need to keep them separated else
we may be raided for licentious conduct." Hoot from the audience to let
them fuck. "Now, now. behave. Don't want to embarrass Tom by what he is
lacking."

"He's lacking nothing." Chaz yelled. "Hung like a horse."

"Naay, we're not going to feed that nag. Chris we are so proud that you
finally made an honest man out of Tom. His debauchery is legendary. But
purity tames the cad." Chaz yelled.

"Who says that Chris is not as debauched." Boyd was getting into the act;
one too many drinks and egged on by Chaz.

Jazzabel did a stage gestor to Chris, who was seated on his left. "But the
company he keeps is suspect."

"Got that right." Louis and Ollie laughed as they held each other's ass.

"Can anyone here testify to the purity and honor of these two?"

"I can, your majesty. May I say a few words in their defense."

"Bring the solitary witness forward." Stella was led up on the stage. She
looked stunning in a green cocktail dress.

"Chris was my tenant for a few months, before he broke the lease. He was
the perfect tenant. Although he frequently had male visitors, he never left
a spent condom on the stairs, nor a coke pipe lit by the bed. I never
smelled Mary Jane, though he liked his windows open. And when he dined in
my establishment, his decorum and conversation was fit to be heard by a
nun. Although I doubt most nuns know what a cocksucker is."

"Don't be too sure of that," came a response from the crowd.

"I rest my case that Chris is pure. Now Tom, I only know by
association. But I would watch him while he sat with Chris in my restaurant
with avid eyes on Chris. Granted they desired laying Chris over the table
and have carnal games with him. But who can blame him? Just look at the
innocent face of Chris." Stella stopped and bowed to Jazzabel. "Your
majesty, I rest my case about Tom."

"Your testimony is compelling. I will take it under advisement." Stella
kissed both Chris and Tom and left the stage.

"Is there anyone else that would like to testify to the upstanding
character of the two men?"

"I would, your majesty. If someone would help an old lady on the stage."
Millie found herself body surfing to the stage. "My, I haven't had so many
men's hands on me since Woodstock." She hand fanned herself. "That is the
only way to travel." Foot stomping and hoots greeted that comment. "Your
Majesty, I am Millie, a neighbor of Chris and Tom" She did a full
curtsy. "Tom was the most dutiful boyfriend before they wed. He was always
pampering Chris. He never wanted Chris to look rumpled, so his hands were
always smoothing his clothing or trying to remove them before they were
stained or soiled. If Chris were cold, he would offer his body to warm him
up. And as a last example, he saved Chris from many falls by carrying him
to their bedroom where he and Chris would pray. My unit is below them and I
would hear fervent pleas to God: `Jesus, Mary and Joseph; Oh God oh God
take me to heaven, and Bang the Devil out of me.' The last confuses me, but
driving Satan out is always good." She walked over to Tom and slapped him
lightly on the face. "Let me help bang the devil out of you." She walked
over to Chris standing so she could face Chris, Jazzabel, and the
crowd. "Your Majesty, Chris has the voice of an angel. He would sing, with
his light tenor voice `Do They Hang Too Low', `Roll Me Over', and my
favorite `A Good Man is Hard to Find'. How could one be debauched if one
sings religious songs."

"You make power arguments for both boys. I think we will need Chris to
demonstrate his pure ways by singing those songs you mentioned. I thank you
for your testimony." Millie was helped off the stage; she walked back to
her table. "It is a conundrum what to decide. I shall leave the decision to
the jury of his peers. Will you help me decide if either of these men are
guilty of debauchery?" The room roared so loud that dust from the rafters
fell like gray stars. "Those who thing Tom is debauched say `Aye'."
Jazzabel shook her head sadly. "Your peers have heard the evidence and have
declared you debauched." Jazzabel turned to Chris. "The same question to
the jury. Is Chris debauched?" Again the room was loud with `ayes' but not
as many. "Again, the jury has decided. Chris you have been found guilty of
debauchery." Jazzabel pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and wiped a tear
from her eye. "I am so sorry but I must render a sentence."

Chris stood and knelt before Jazzabel. "Your Majesty. May I have a few
words before you mete out my just punishment?" Jazzabel nodded. "I must
confess that I am guilty of debauchery. But I would argue that debauchery
is not a crime, but a gift. For to be debauched is to celebrate the great
gift of living. To be debauched is to not hid from the joys of life, to not
be afraid to be yourself, to share pleasure with others, to make our
journey in this often dark and gloomy world brighter."  Chris bowed his
head.

Jazzabel was smiling. This was not the way this was planned but it was
better. "You make a very strong case for debauchery as a social benefit. I
will set the question to your peers. Is debauchery desirable?" The noise of
`aye' reverberated in Chris's chest.

"The jury is unanimous." Jazzabel stood and took Chris's arm to help him
stand; she whispered in Chris's ear. "Here is my sentence....I am the Queen
of Debauchery." The room shook with agreement. "This is the Kingdom of
Debauchery. My two acolytes, Chris and Tom have passed the test and have
not submitted to the bland, plebeian, and self-righteous who would
overthrow my kingdom.  With dedicated citizens like you, debauchery will
never perish from this earth." Millie, who was standing in front, raised
her blouse, flashing her black lace brassiere. Chris gave her a thumbs
up. He hoped he would have as much zest for living as she did when he got
her age.

"Now my loyal lecherous subjects. Let us crown our new princes." Jazzabel
sat back on her throne and two stunning young men, wearing only gold lame
G-strings, bowed and knelt, offering Jazzabel two crowns on red velvet
pillows with large gold tassels at each corner.

"Thanks Knave Dick and Knave Peter." Jazzabel took one crown and as she
placed one crown on Tom's head said. "I bestow upon you Tom the title of
Duke. All within my domain, need to obey your lawful commands." Chris
looked at Tom and almost laughed himself out of the chair. His silver crown
was designed of crossed penises set on a circlet of balls. She next went to
Chris. His crown was gold with the same design but taller. "Chris, my
chosen child. I name you prince of my realm. All must obey your lawful
commands." She turned to face the group. "Including my Duke."

"You are in trouble now, Tom," came a voice from the crowd, which sounded
like Cedrick.

Jazzabel stretched out her hands to quiet the crowd. "Dearest subjects, pay
homage to your Prince and his Duke consort. May their phalluses be pillars
of inspiration for libido and lust."

"Speech, Speech," One person chanted as it was picked up by the crowd.

Chris and Tom stood. Chris looked over at Tom. Tom knelt, "My lord and
prince, this honor falls to you." Chris's look should have stuck Tom dead,
but Tom only grinned smugly.

Chris stood, erect and regal. He moved to center stage. "Your Majesty, I am
overwhelmed by the honor you have bestowed upon me, your humble servant of
debauchery." Chris did a low bow, his posterior intentionally pointing to
the crowd. He stood, did a graceful turn. "My dearest subjects, I stand
before you, by the grace of her Majesty, not as an example of debauchery,
but as a student. I will learn by your examples because most of you are
masters in the ways of the flesh."

"Got that right Princey," yelled Millie.  She was feeling no pain.

"Hedonism as a way of life is frowned upon by the self-righteous as
immoral, perverted and deviant. But I tell you fellow citizens that the
pleasures of the flesh should not be denied because it is through our
senses that we live. To deny our senses is to stunt our growth toward
enlightenment. It is all about balance and reflection. Hedonism without
reflection upon what is learned about yourself and about others is refusal
to learn and grow. By learning what gives us pleasure and pain and what
gives others pleasure and pain makes us more responsive and attune to the
world around us. Fellow Bacchantes and Debauchees love one another, treat
one another with kindness, and do not shy away from the pleasures of
living." Chris turned and sat down. The crowd went wild, but then most of
them were drunk.

"Thank you my prince. I have chosen well. I know that neither of you wanted
gifts, so donations were collected to attend tonight. The money will be
given support homeless gay, bi, transgender and queer youth in greater New
York. To date we have raised over $63,000 dollars with more pledged by
several fashion houses here in New York." Chris did not know what to
say. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Jazzabel handed Chris a microphone. He took several deep breaths, tears
rolling down his cheeks. Tom stood beside him, holding him closer than dog
hair on an angora sweater. "Thank you. I don't know what to say." Chris put
his arm around Tom and pulled him even closer. "Before I met the love of my
life, I was one of those homeless queers trying to survive on the street. I
fortunately met people who helped me, and I did not fall prey to the
temptations and predators that rob young gay people of their future. Thank
you."

Chris turned to sit but Tom restrained him. "I also want to thank each of
you not only for the wedding gift but also for being our friends, for
opening your hearts to us and making us part of your community. You do not
know how much Chris and I appreciate and love you."

"Then why did you move to L.A.?" It was yelled with mostly humor.

"Got to make a living." Tom retorted. "And Chris needed a house and yard so
he can raise goats." Laugher. "Besides we are keeping our residence here
because we will be in New York as much as we are in L.A.."

"Really," Chris looked at Tom like a little kid at Christmas. "We're
getting goats?"

"I would open my fucking mouth." Tom moaned loudly to catcalls from the
group.

"We'll see."

"Baby goats are so cute. Maybe we can do goat yoga. Make our own goat ice
cream. If we save the wool, you can knit me sweaters. And..." Tom put his
hand over Chris's mouth much to the boisterous delight of the audience.

"I now think it is time for Chris to earn his keep." Jazzabel said standing
to the side of the two as two baby grand pianos, on black and one white,
were wheeled out replacing the thrones. Chris chose your weapon." Chris
chose the black piano. "Once you've tickled the black keys, you can never
go back." Jazzabel chortled as she sat. Chris hit a C#, F# and G# on the
piano with his left hand while fanning himself with his right.

The dueling started between the two. After an hour and a half, it was tied
at two misses each. It was Chris's last turn. He knew he had her on this
one. He sang Cecelie's song. It had not yet been released, so it was very
unlikely Jazzabel knew it. He finished to thunderous applause. "That is a
new song by my friend Cecelie. It will not be released until the beginning
of next month." Chris grinned triumphantly.

"That is ..." Jazzabel sat at the piano, one gloved hand stroking her
chin. "That is `Lesson'."

Chris fell off the piano bench in shock. "How did you know that? The title
was only decided last week."

"My dear boy, Jazzabel has many spies. Do you not think I did my best
watching you my Prince?" She watched Chris sitting on the floor laughing
his ass off. "I want everyone here to await the release of the video. I
first saw it yesterday and watched it a dozen times. Cecelie will be a
star. The music video is magic, pure magic. And our dear Chris is what
makes it magic."

"It is getting late, and I need my beauty rest. Let's have one last drink,
call cabs, Uber, or pumpkin couches. I again want to wish you, Tom and
Chris, all the joy and happiness of marriage." She left the stage dragging
Chris and Tom into the crowd of mostly drunk well-wishers. It was a
pre-dawn exit from the club.



Chris and Tom slept in with the certainty that all their friends were doing
the same. "That was fun last night," Chris said as he snuggled into Tom's
chest. Tom mumbled agreement in his sleep. "I love you Tom. You make me the
happiest person in the world." Chris thought Tom said, "you too" into the
pillow. Chris did not know why he was so blessed, but he was not going to
question it. He knew that life could turn and be a bitch. He lay his head
on Tom's chest letting the thrum of Tom's heart lull him to sleep.

It was after noon when Chris pulled himself out of bed, threw on pajama
pants and a T-shirt to trek downstairs to retrieve the Sunday paper. The
rest of his co-op were not stirring. He thought about knocking on Millie's
door to check if she was alright, but decided that she definitely needed
the rest. Once back in his unit, the coffee was ready. He wanted to sit on
the balcony, but 52 was too chilly so he lit the fireplace. He snuggled
under an afghan, reading and sipping. He was halfway through the paper when
Tom rumbled in naked and hair smushed. Tom grumbled something to Chris as
he poured himself a cup of coffee and joined Chris under the afghan on the
sofa. "Good morning sunshine. How are you this cloudy day?" He kissed
Chris, forcing Chris to quickly set down his coffee cup.

"Doing much better now that my husband is at my side." Chris kissed Tom on
his bare chest. "Much better."

"Hon, I hate to break the news, but you broke me last night. I don't think
my peter's too pooped to pop."

"It was fun. What do you want to do for breakfast, more accurately lunch?"

"Let's go to Stella's. It has been a while, and they have great food. Juan
and Zack can join us."

"Save water; share a shower." Chris threw the afghan over Tom's head and
ran to the bedroom. Tom struggled to free himself but was soon in hot
pursuit. "You little minx, I'll get you." Tom only heard Chris giggle.



The deli was crowded, so they needed to wait for a table. Feeling evil,
Chris ran upstairs to get Juan and Zack. By the time they returned Tom was
in a booth with Stella sitting next to him. "Hey, lady. That's my
man. Hands off." Chris slid into the booth, shoving Stella into Tom.

"Finder's keeper. Just married and abandoned the husband the next day. Tom
was grieving his loss, so what could I do but comfort him. You see what I
am married to." Stella pointed to Stan.

"Hey, easy there old lady." Stan yelled from behind the counter.

"See my point." Stella kissed Tom on the cheek. "Chris, he is all yours,
body and soul. Nobody ain't never gonna tempt him away from you. Now scoot,
I have work to do."

Chris slid out, letting Stella out, and then slid back next to Tom. "Miss
me?"

"Not much. I had a voluptuous woman to entertain me." Stella's cackle rang
through the dinner.

Benjie stumbled over and managed to find the seat and slid partly in. He
looked like warmed over puke. "You OK?" Tom knew that Benjie was not. While
Benjie was officially on soda last night, Chris spotted him pilfering
drinks.

"Stella says I'll live. Just not sure I want to. But the party last night
was sparklers on a banana split. Jazzabel knows how to throw a mean fete."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." Stella brought coffee and then took
orders, which was a waste of time since everybody had their usual. She
commented about sending a boy to California, and he still returns
boring. What could Chris say; he liked what he liked.

"I noticed Rami hanging on you, Benjie?" Tom asked with a raised
eyebrow. "Did you have a three-way?" Tom doubted it but it was fun baiting
the kid.

"Yup, fucked them both twice." He raised his eyes over the coffee cup that
was at his lips. Tom's mouth opened but words found no exit. "No, kidding,
but liked the look on your face. It was more like a mutual support
relationship. We were both too drunk to stand on our own. And he has a
wicked sense of humor, very politically incorrect."

He went quiet as Stella put toast in front of everyone. "In case you have a
queasy stomach. Food will be out shortly." Stella looked at the table and
chuckled. "He, Rami, made jokes about his and Derick's sexcapades. They are
both so kinky. Don't know any girls that will do all that shit. But sure
sounded like fun."

"Tempted by the dark side," Juan, who was sitting next to Benjie, poked him
with an elbow. "I know of a school where you can learn all about the joys
of man-on-man sex."

"Yes, might even be able to get you a scholarship if you show promise."
Zack added with a grin.

Benjie grinned back at Zack. "Might that school be located on a second
floor above a diner?"

"Kids, smart," Zack said, "earned himself a scholarship. You can attend
tuition free."

"All supplies are included." Juan peeled the paper off the end of a straw
and blew the sheath in Benjie's face. "cuffs, wax, flogger."

It was fun to watch Benjie turn a bright shade of red. "Such an offer is
mighty tempting. But..." Before Benjie could complete the sentence food
arrived and the topic shifted.

Zack talked about the City Ballet and his progress up the ranks. Juan waxed
over computer school. It made Chris sad that he was not in college. Chris
and Tom described the Powell dinner. Tom showed pictures of the house. It
was a good two hours of friends shooting the shit. It felt so normal, and
Chris missed it.

"When do you head back to California?" Juan asked.

"We leave for England tomorrow for a family reunion. Then back here for a
couple of days, then likely Chicago for a few more, then home."

"I see why you are keeping the place here." Juan looked pensive. "Don't
know that I could travel that much. I need roots and family close."

"Which coast are you going to be at for Christmas?" Zack had cleaned his
plate and gave it to Juan to put at the end of the table.

"Back to England for the holidays."

"Why?" both Juan and Zack said together.

"My Grandda wants us to formally marry in the estate's chapel. It's a
family tradition going back centuries."

"Your family has a chapel, like in a palace?" Juan was suspicious.

"No, it is a small church on the estate." Tom was embarrassed by this.

"It is an English Manor house like in `Upstairs/Downstairs'" Chris added,
so not helpful. "Tom is uncomfortable with his English roots. I don't know
why. I mean our fucking wedding rings for the service were given to the
given family by Queen Elizabeth, the first one. Tom hates the idea that one
day he will be Lord Greenwood."

"It's not that I hate my heritage." Chris frowned at Tom. "Not so much hate
as people get all funny about it." Tom shrugged his shoulders in
frustration. "You get what I mean?" He looked at Juan and Zack for
understanding.

"Yes, I can see that people might treat you nicer or be more standoffish,
but does it change you?...Your Lordship." Juan, Zack and Chris all started
to cackle that other tables looked to see what was humorous. "Come on
Tom. Lighten up." Zack said, gaining modest control of his laughter.

"I know, in my head what you mean. But I grew up visiting my Grandda every
summer for over twelve years. He was stiff."

"Tom, he was not stiff. He was an attic that had been closed up for
decades. Not a breath of fresh air flowed around him. I can see how that
atmosphere was stifling for a young boy. But he is different now."

Tom took Chris's hand and kissed it.  "That he is."

Juan was now curious. "What happened to change that?'

"He met Chris, who is a force of nature--spring." Tom stared into Chris's
blue, blue eyes. "Old man didn't know what hit."

	"Like the Grinch and Cindy Lou?" Juan asked as he played with the
last scrap of pancake.

"Yes, very like," Tom said thoughtfully. "That is why Chris and I are
flying back to England late tonight. Grandda is meeting my mother and
siblings for the first time."

"What! first time."

"Grandda did not like the fact that my dad was marrying my mother. She was
not up to Grandda's standards. Dad married for love. Grandda never forgave
him."

"Then how did you spend summers with him while the others were shunned?"
Zack had put his fork down to listen to the story.

"For some arcane reason Grandda sees me as his heir. I gave up a long time
ago to try and figure him out."

"Wow, this is Hollywood movie stuff." Juan licked a dab of syrup from his
lips. "And now there will be a big family reunion and reconciliations. I
love happy endings."

"Happy endings will be seen." Tom looked down at an edge of toast, ran it
through a puddle of egg yolk and put the bread back down.

"Tom, everything will be fine." Chris kissed Tom's cheek. "And if not. I'll
tell the old bastard to fuck himself, and we will leave never to return."

The dinner was past the morning rush, so Stella and Stan joined the
boys. "You look awfully serious. Did someone steal your Christmas
presents?" The four boys looked at Stella and almost peed themselves with
laughter. Stella had the look of one caught letting a fart.

"Stella," Chris regained his breath and continued, "we were just talking
about Tom's Grandda, and Juan compared him to the Grinch. Your comment fits
too perfect into the conversation." Chris took his napkin to wipe a little
exudate from his nose.

"Chris, Tom." Stan had this lovely basso voice, soothing like oil on
water. "Stel and I want to say how much fun we had last night. It has been
a long time since we drank too much or laughed so hard. You two are
building a great life together. And you are sharing it with your
friends. Stel, Benjie, and I are so proud to be part of your life."

"Chris," Stella took up the conversation. "The first time I met you, you
were dealing with heavy shit." She looked at Tom. "But it did not get you
down. You did not break you but made you stronger. You are a man that faces
life, takes what is given, and makes the best out of it. Last night, with
all your friends, I felt so proud that I helped you."

Chris took Stella's hand and then Stan's. "I am too. Because your faith in
me made me stronger. Everyone needs encouragement to move forward, not only
when times are tough but also when they are good. I love you both like
parents."

Silence enveloped the table like a fuzzy blanket, until Benjie forced
himself in next to Stan.  "Guys, when are you gonna be back this way. I
miss you here in the mornings."

"We'll be back in New York the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Here for about
six days then then Chicago for four before we are home in L.A.."

"That's grueling." Benjie handed a folded section of the newspaper. "Don't
know if you saw this, but the party last night made the social page. A
couple of nice pictures of you guys." Tom took the paper, glanced at it and
handed it to Chris, who barely paid attention. It was not how he wanted his
life, but there was little he could do about it.

After brunch Chris and Tom spent the afternoon with Chaz and Boyd and baby
C.T. C.T. was in love with Chris and wanted to be held by him most of the
afternoon. Chaz asked Chris if he wanted a nanny job. Chris, half serious,
said it sounded great do you have a room. They left Chaz and Boyd for home,
a quiet supper, and packing for England, which was forecast to be in the
low fifties and rainy. Typical weather.

Millie stopped by, looking vibrant, to say what a wonderful party. Soon
Liam, Dan, Matias, Louisa, and Harold joined her. They brought three
bottles of champagne and a cheese and fruit plate. Harold cleared his
throat. "Chris, I admit that I was leery about you becoming an owner in
this co-op, but I was very wrong. Having you here with Tom now is a breath
of fresh air that this place needed. Our concern now is that, now you have
a home in L.A., what your intentions are with this place." Harold sat next
to his wife Louisa.

"From the first day that I moved in here, I have felt welcome and that this
place is home. Dreamweavers acquired an agency in L.A. and at their
request, not demand, asked me to work out of L.A.. Tom's family lives in
Malibu. The house we bought is only 20 minutes away from them. It is nice
to have family close. My in-laws are fantastic people." Chris saw Millie
sag. "However, Tom and I still travel extensively and have been brought
onto the board of directors, which will increase our travel between L.A.,
Chicago, and New York. To further complicate the matter. Tom has new family
obligations in England, which will require our time there too. That all
being said, we decided it was best to keep this place as our pied a terre
in New York." The look of relief on the others who lived in the building
was staggering. Millie was crying.

"What family obligations do you have in England?" Liam was not prying, just
curious. "According to Chris, your family lives in L.A.."

"That is true, but my ancestral home is outside Shrewsbury. I have dual
citizenship. My Grandda lives on an estate there, and he has just named me,
official, as his heir. I am not excited about the prospect. The house
itself has not been updated since the 1930s. Over Christmas, Chris and I
are to be officially married in the family chapel. Long standing tradition
of several hundred years, so how do you say no."

"You're not talking about Lord Greenwood?" Liam's eyes glinted.

"The same. You know him?"

"Met him once many years ago when he served on the board of directors for a
project I was designing. Don't take offense Tom, but he was one nasty
curmudgeon."

Both Tom and Chris laughed. "That is very accurate, but recently he has had
a change of heart, which is why Chris and I agreed to wed there."

They spent the next two hours talking about what was going on in Chris and
Tom's life. Matias was happy because he had the lead in a new Broadway
musical. Someone saw him that night at Jazzabel's, was impressed; he
auditioned and got the part. Louisa had baby pictures. Harold and her were
flying to L.A. for Thanksgiving to see their son and the baby. Finally,
Millie stood and told everyone to leave since the boys had a plane to
catch. Millie was the last to leave. She hugged Chris and whispered in his
ear, "Thanks for not leaving me. It is lonely without you." She left.

Tom poured the last of the champagne into their glasses. "I'm glad we
decided to keep this place. We have too many friends here that I would
miss." Chris snuggled into Tom.





"Welcome home masters Tom and Chris." Clarke greeted them as they parked in
front of Thistledown. Chris did a double take at how much Clarke sounded
like Beach. Dink was there to garage the white Austin Martin Tom rented.

"Thank you Clarke." Tom nodded to Petey, who was pulling luggage out of the
boot of the car. "How are things going? Grandda good?"

Clarke smiled. Tom gaped; Clarke did not smile ever. "Since Master Chris's
visit, his Lordship is almost jolly. It is a very different place. The
entire staff is pleased to be working for the old man. I've had no turn
over, which was every few months before the resurrection. There is laughter
in the hallways."

"That is gratifying to hear. How is the return of my father and my family
being received?" Tom still had concerns.

"With great joy and anticipation, Sir. But let us get in and out of the
damp." Clarke led them through the entry hall, up two flights of stairs and
turned right.

"This is not how we went last time." Chris followed Clarke only glancing at
yellow and cracked paintings lining the wall.

"No Sir, this wing is the Master's wing. Last time you stayed in the guest
wing." He led them down a hallway, dimly lit by Art Deco wall sconces. to a
solid wood door on the left. "We had the rooms redone." Clarke opened the
door. "If you need anything changed, Master Tom, let us know. Petey has
been assigned as your personal attendant. I apologize for his lack of
experience, but he is very eager. He has the room across the hall. If he is
not in attendance, page him." Clark handed Tom a small flip phone.

"This sure beats the bell system."

"Yes Sir, it does." Clarke smiled. "Lord Greenwood implemented this system
last week, so the staff is still learning how to use it. Frankly, sir, the
bells worked well for three hundred years."

"Yes, change is difficult Clarke. But I do like indoor plumbing and
electric lights. This is just another change." Chris smiled at Clarke. "But
if you want, I will use the bells."

"Thank you for your consideration, Master Chris. But if Lord Greenwood can
change so can I."

"This room is beautiful." Tom turned to Chris. "I was in here only once and
it scared the shit out of me. It was musty, dank heavy burgundy velvet
drapes. A floral wallpaper in green and burgundy. It was a room designed to
hold a wake." Now the room was a cream with cream and yellow damask
drapes. The original four poster bed of dark walnut anchored the room
without darkening the room. Light colored oriental rugs were on each side
of the bed. A small table and two chairs sat in front of one of the three
large windows that overlooked the garden.

"Thank you sir. I will let Lulu know you like the changes. If you follow me
this way to the dressing room and the bathing room and loo."  Through a
door beside the bed was a massive closet with two back-to-back sofas in the
center. Through another set of doors was the bathing room, for that was
exactly it was. It held a large shower, and a massive copper tub that had
been converted for plumbing. The room was well lit with two windows over
the tub. "The loo is through this door. It was from 1930 or 20 with the
tank a good eight feet above a commode decorated with green foliage and
wading birds. Across from the commode was a matching pedestal sink. Chris
also noticed the matching bidet. They exited a second door that led back to
the dressing room and then a door that led to the opposite side of the bed.

"Through here is your sitting room." Clarke led Chris and Tom through a
door beside a massive red brick fireplace. The sitting room had a desk near
a window.  Two sofas flanked the fireplace that matched the one in the
bedroom. Two wingback chairs faced the fireplace making a rectangle with
the sofas. Four windows overlooked the garden. Only when Clarke opened one
of the windows did Chris realize that they were French doors to a narrow
balcony. The wall, opposite the French doors, had a door to the hallway and
was flanked by bookshelves. "Your rooms do have both ethernet and WIFI
connections. If you so desire, I can give you access to the household
accounts. The Thistledown email address and contacts are already set up in
both your names."

Petey walked into the sitting room, looked at Chris and Tom like they were
royalty. "Sirs, I'zz here to help you." Clarke rolled his eyes but said
nothing. "Mav," Petey blushed. "The cook has prepared lunch if you would
like it in this room....Or anywhere else....Sirs."

"Here would be fine Petey. Chris and I would like you to eat with us so we
can learn more about the house and how you can serve us better."

Petey blanched, taking two half steps back. He looked at Clarke for
guidance. The help does not eat with the masters. "Since it is the request
of Masters Tom and Chris. you can comply this one time." Clarke turned to
Chris and Tom. "Sirs, if you have no further need of me, I will leave you
to rest. Tea is at 3:30." He bowed his head curtly and left.

Petey stood still staring at the rug on the floor like a lad about to be
whipped. "Petey, come sit in this chair." Tom motioned to one of the
wingback chairs, while he and Chris sat on a sofa on each side of Petey.

"You nervous?" Chris asked.

"Bloody hell terrified." He clasped his mouth with both hands.

"Just between the three of us, I'm bloody hell terrified too." Petey
stifled a giggle. "I've never had servants, don't have any in America
either. We do have people we pay to clean our house once a week and take
care of the landscape, but otherwise we take care of ourselves."

"You don't have any servants, no cook, no butler or valet to take care of
you?" Petey was appalled. "But ye both be gentlemen."

"One can be a gentleman without servants. Being a gentleman is how you
act. It is pride in yourself; how you treat others, and being respectful to
everybody."

"You might need to educate Lord Greenwood on that." Petey clasped both arms
of the chair in horror of what he said. "I meant no disrespect. Please
don't report me to Mr. Clarke."

"I appreciate your honesty, Petey. Please always be honest with us. I know
nothing about how this house works, what the hierarchy is, what is
acceptable and not acceptable. It bloody terrifies me that I will make a
mistake. I will need your guidance."

"I can do that, Sir Chris." Petey sat more upright in the chair. "Been here
since I was seven and left on the doorstep. Lord Greenwood was kind and
didn't send me to a home for boys without parents or kin."

"Are you in school?" Tom asked.

"Yes, Sir Tom. I'm in the local school. I'm Year 11 and will matriculate
next year."

"What then?"

"Not decided yet Sir Tom. I sometimes help with the landscaping here and
would like to learn more, but not sure I am Uni material."

"How are your grades?"

"All A's," Petey beamed with pride because he worked hard for
each. "Mr. Clarke is stern and demanding, so he has helped."

"Very good Petey. You should be proud of yourself. Now if you could bring
the three of us lunch. When you return we will discuss your duties."

"Very good, Sir Tom, be back in a jiff." At the door, he turned to face Tom
and Chris and gave a short sharp head bow and backed out of the room.

Petey quickly returned with a cart filled with sandwiches, tea, fresh
fruit, and jam rolly polly, which Chris discovered was vanilla custard on a
sponge cake.

During lunch the three discussed Petey's duties, which would mostly be as a
gopher. Tom was better at delineating a servant's usual duties than Chris,
who never had servants. Petey was disappointed that they did not want him
more as a man servant, but decided not to protest just to prove that he
could be a man servant. They dismissed Petey for the day with only the duty
to return the dirty dishes and thank Mavis for the delicious food. Petey
bowed politely, while fuming at the dismissal. "Very good sirs. I will be
helping Mavis, who appreciates my services in the kitchen cracking
walnuts." He left with the remains of the meal.

"Did I offend Petey?" Chris asked.

"Yes, but he will get over it. Service in England is taken seriously as a
noble profession. It requires diligence and attention. We have minimized
Petey's role as servant to the level of a lackey. He is hurt and
confused. Give him a little time with us and he will adjust."

"This is all too foreign to me." Chris leaned back against the sofa and
sighed. "I will learn." Tom smiled into his hand as Chris closed his eyes
in frustration.

"Do you want to freshen up first or take a nap?" Chris yawned at Tom's
question. The yawn answered the question; Tom guided Chris into the
bedroom, helped him onto the bed, which was four feet off the ground.  Tom
snuggled beside Chris, kissed the nape of his neck and fell asleep beside
Chris.

"Sir," Petey's voice disturbed their slumbers. "You have about an `alf `our
before tea. I will prepare the shower and while you shower, I will lay out
your clothes."

"That will be perfect Petey, thanks for the gentle wake up. Clarke had a
whistle to wake me up." Tom, bleary eyes responded.

Petey laughed, "He still does `ave it."

The shower, much to Chris's delight had hot water and a powerful stream
from the showerhead.

Chris and Tom exited the bathroom to the dressing room wearing only
towels. Petey watched Chris through the corner of his eye. "Bloody hell,
you're a byrd." Petey realized what he blurted out and hung his
head. "Sorry Sir Chris, I didn't mean anything mean by it . I was just
surprised." Petey wanted to run and hide but stood firm waiting for any
reprisal for his comment.

"I am transgender, Petey. I am transitioning from female to male. After the
first of the year, I will have surgery to complete the process."

Petey did not look at Chris's face. "I think I understand. You have the
soul of a boy but the body of a girl." Petey looked at Chris's face. "That
must be terrible to be different on the outside than you are on the
inside. At least you have the courage to change it."

"Thank you Petey. That is one of the nicest things anyone has said to me."

Petey looked at Chris concerned. "Does Lord Greenwood know?"

"Yes, he does. For being an old stick in the mud, he is very understanding
and supportive."

"Wow, the geezer is not as narrow minded as I thought. Don't get me wrong,
I love the old man to death, but he doesn't even have a cell phone."

"Don't worry about that. Chris will bring him into the twenty-first
century." Tom was laughing as he pulled up his russet trousers, Chris
turned while tucking in his mint green shirt into his forest green slacks.

"Blimey, you got a hefty bulge, Sir Chris." Petey was blatantly staring.

"It's a prosthetic, a very lifelike fake. A gift from Cedrick Greenwood."

"It suits you well. Now let me look at both of you before I escort you to
tea. Your appearance is my reputation." Tom and Chris allowed Petey to do a
full inspection. He dusted lint off the back of Tom's trousers then
proclaimed both suitable for tea.

He took them to a solarium overlooking the garden. Grandda was sitting in a
rattan chair at a rattan table with Clarke behind him ready to serve. Chris
and Tom sat at the table, exchanging greetings with Grandda; Petey moved
into a matching position like Clarke, except behind Tom and Chris. This
made Chris a little uncomfortable; he was not accustomed to being served
like this. But he decided that when in Rome. Petey poured their tea as
Clarke did the same for Grandda. Petey added a single squeeze of lemon,
just like Chris liked his tea. The conversation was light, mostly about the
garden, visible through the glass walls of the solarium and mostly brown
waiting for spring.

Chris could tell that Grandda was nervous about Tom's parents coming in a
couple of days. "Sir," Chris said after a sip of tea, the house blend. "You
know that Quent and Anda are very nervous about meeting you." Grandda's
eyebrows twitched. "Bette, Linc, and Tracey are over the moon to meet their
grandfather."

"Why?" Grandda's question rang of guilt and fear. He knew he had been an
ass, but didn't know how to fix it.

""That is a good question, Grandda, because you have been a very ornery old
fool for a very long time. But now is the time to reclaim your family; show
them the love you have hidden for many, many, years. I know it is there."

"You have more confidence in me than I have, young man. They have every
right to hate me."

"Yes they do." Grandda flinched, but his posture resumed its rigid inbred
form. "But they don't. They want to be family again. They want to have you
as part of their lives." Chris took another sip of tea; Petey refilled the
cup. "But you need to want this too."

Grandda sat still looking at the floral pattern on the teacups. He looked
up at Chris, no smile or trace of emotion on his face. "I want this too. I
have regretted what I did almost as soon as I did it, but I didn't know how
to undo the deed. I am an old stubborn fool, like you said, who has wasted
so much time being angry at myself. I am a clock over wound and unable to
release the tension.

"Sir," Chris placed a gentle hand on Grandda's. "You can start by
smiling. Think of the future and not the past. Look toward what you will
gain and not what you have lost. All you need to do is open your arms, and
they will enter them."

Grandda did smile. "Tom, you have yourself one hell of a bloody mate."

Tom looked at his Grandda in shock. He had never heard his Grandda
swear. "Yes Sir, I do. But Chris is right. Open your heart and arms and
everything will be good." The rest of tea was convivial with Grandda
talking about Quent as a youngster. He was mischievous and loving.

After tea both Tom and Chris had work, so they retired to their room. The
next day they needed to be in London for meetings to start on
Dreamweavers-Europe. Tom was meeting with a couple of fashion houses while
Chris was spending the afternoon with Phyllis, as her guest at a small
reception. That night, at dinner, Grandda talked about having a formal
American Thanksgiving dinner for Tom's family. Chris thought that was a
great idea and offered to help Cook plan.







Chris was dropped off at the Victoria and Albert and met Phyllis in the
lobby. She was dressed in a beige tweed jacket and skirt that made her look
matronly. It was not flattering, but Chris said nothing knowing how
conservative some British institutions are.

She gave Chris a quick kiss on the cheek. "So glad you could make
it. Several of the attendees are excited about meeting you." Chris. if not
committed, would have run for the door. Although he didn't mind meeting
people, he did not want to disappoint from the image of what people
expected from a model. "It is rumored that a member of the royal family may
attend."

"What does that mean?" Chris was now nervous.

"Because of security, only official events are preannounced. I doubt it
will be anyone from the immediate royal family." She leaned into Chris
closely. "There are over fifty of them, so it is hard to keep track. And
most of them do not use royal titles, so don't worry about protocol, just
follow my lead,"

"Absolutely, I do not want to cause an international incident."

"You're an American. No one expects you to be proper. In fact, most
appreciate when you are not as long as you are not rude." She led Chris
down stairs, upstairs, through corridors to a sunny room with about
twenty-five people quietly chatting. The conversation stopped as they
entered, like Chris was the guest of honor. Chris definitely wanted to
run. Phyllis firmed her grip on Chris's arm and started working the crowd
and introducing him. About half the people were polite but not interested
in further conversations. A quarter were polite and participated in idle
chatter about the weather or the state of fashion. Only six wanted Chris's
attention, an even mix of male and female. They were interested in fashion,
seen the Jazzabel videos, or wanted to bed him. The first group was
knowledgeable, the second gutsy, and the third obnoxious. When he told a
particularly aggressive man that he was engaged to Tom Greenwood, several
older people gravitated toward Chris.

"You mean the old sod, Seymour, is allowing a marriage outside the family."
The man who spoke was not tall, was definitely overweight, and was about
seventy. He reminded Chris of a Hogarth cartoon. The man was not being
catty, but was genuinely surprised.

"Yes, he has approved of me wholeheartedly. Once you chip the accumulated
crust off the old man, he is very charming."

"Need a jack hammer," the man replied.

"We have also discovered that I am from the Italian branch of the family
going back to the crusades."

"So old dusty likes you?" The man was squinting at Chris in disbelief.

"Yes, sir, very much so." Several more people had gathered around,
curious. "I do not have the honor of your name, though you have mine."

The man extended his hand. "I must apologize for my rudeness. I am Nigel
Johnson. Seymour and I attended Eton together. You must give him my
regards." He took a step back and looked at Chris.

He humphed, "You and Thomas are engaged?"

"No, Mr. Johnson." He insisted Chris call him Nigel. "No Nigel, Tom and I
married in the States, but will also have a ceremony at Thistledown to
please Grandda."

"Grandda, huh." Nigel looked at Chris more closely. "You are a Pygmalion if
you could bring that old stone to life."

"No, I am just honest." Nigel laughed at Chris's comment. Several others
laughed as part of the herd.

"You are Chris, the model, right?" A woman interrupted. She was in her
mid-thirties, stylishly dressed and impeccably coiffed. "I'm Angie
Beauchamp. I saw you in London at the men's show. It is nice to see that
the person on the catwalk is just as charming in person. I'm the fashion
reporter in town. Now that you have roots here in England, will you
participate more in British fashion?"

Chris was not sure how much to divulge about Dreamweavers' plans, but if
Tom was talking to others, the word would be out by evening. "Yes, Tom and
I are planning on spending more time in England. My husband is now meeting
with several fashion houses about opening a European branch of
Dreamweavers, the agency Tom and I work for, here in London."

Angie smiled at what for her was a news scoop. "From what I have seen of
Dreamweaver's stable, they are to be respected and welcome to the London
fashion scene. With a native born like Tom Greenwood to head the project,
it should be easy."

"I appreciate your vote of confidence." Chris decided not to mention that
Tom was born in the States. "While Tom is doing the initial feelers for the
project, we do not want to run the operations when Dreamweavers-Europe is
functioning. There is ample talent here to do that. We will have other
duties when we are on this side of the pond. Tom has family obligations
here."

"Hello Chris, I'm Braxton Fairfield. We're second cousins. My Granny is
Seymour's sister." Chris extended his hand, but it was not
accepted. "Family rumor is that Thomas has been named heir." Chris said
nothing. "I highly doubt old geezer Seymour would allow such a union with
you and Tom. I mean he disowned his son because he married outside the
blood."

"Yes, the vaunted Greenwood blood. So important to keep pure." Chris barely
kept contempt out of his voice. "I take it you did not hear my comment
earlier that I do carry the Greenwood blood from our original ancestor. I
apparently carry it in spades." Chris stared at Braxton until he squirmed.

"Although Gay marriage is legal, it is not something a true Greenwood would
allow. Two guys." Braxton gave a derisive laugh. "No heirs. No carrying on
the Greenwood genes"

"You are an ignorant twit aren't you." Braxton stepped back; arms folded
across his chest. "So do not worry your pretty little head about what Tom
and I do." Chris paused and studied Braxton. "I would worry more about the
child your girlfriend is carrying. Would your mother approve?"

"My girlfriend is not..." Braxton paused to look at a young lady in a
flowered sundress, although it was November. She smiled coquettishly at
Braxton. "Bloody hell." He stomped off, grabbed his girlfriend and left.

"How did you know?" Phyllis leaned into Chris.

	"Saw her earlier rubbing her belly and took an educated guess."
Chris laughed with her.

"He always shows up at these events. Never donated a pence, but acts like
he is a lord." She gave Chris a hug. "I need to invite you to more events,
just to clear away the posers."

"Chris, when you are in London again," Angie redirected the
conversation. "I would love to interview you...and your husband Tom about
fashion. I find you refreshingly candid. I think that is an American trait
which we British have lost in the struggle to be polite and never offend."

"Tom and I are here until Sunday. His parents are visiting so it will be a
family event. We will be back December 19 for the Holidays and our wedding
December 26. We should be here a few days after, but I am not sure. January
and February are looking booked too."

"You are both busy boys," Angie said with a smile that showed she was not
happy. People begged for an interview with her. She made or broke
careers. But Chris, Chris did not care about the publicity. It was
refreshing, but made her job harder. She wanted an interview even
more. "Maybe before the end of the year." She resigned herself to that
option.

"I would like that." Chris was genuine in the answer, which baffled Angie
even more. Chris's phone buzzed. "That was Tom. He will be here in ten. We
need to drive back to Thistledown tonight and have dinner with Grandda."
Chris excused himself to say goodbye to Phyllis and thank her for the
invitation.

Chris did not wait long on the street before Tom pulled up and Chris jumped
into the warm car. They exchanged a quick kiss, and Tom was off, fighting
London traffic. The discussion back to Thistledown was lively. Chris
mentioned Braxton and what an ass he was. Tom recalled only meeting him
once and was of the same opinion. Tom was almost giddy when he mentioned
Angie Beauchamp. He felt Stu would definitely make time for an interview.

It was dark when they arrived. The long drive from the road to the house
had no streetlights and several turns, which Tom took faster than Chris
thought safe. Tom only scoffed at Chris's fear of impalement by a tree
branch. Petey was waiting for them in their rooms ready to dress them for
supper, which was held until their return. Since they had dressed in suits
for the day, they felt they did not need to change, only wash their
faces. Petey would have none of that. He insisted that they at least change
shirts. He had outfits already laid out, so they quickly showered together
and then dressed as Petey dictated.

Supper was mostly reassuring Grandda about Quent, Anda and kids arriving
the next day. Grandda was sending Hagan with the Rolls Limo to meet them
and bring them home. "Home" was the word Grandda used, which warmed Chris's
heart. The old man was willing to let the past go and move on to having
family.

Chris spent the next day, Wednesday, before the arrival of Tom's family,
helping Mavis, the Cook, plan Thanksgiving dinner. He found that she was
classically trained as a chef under Rick Stein, but came to work for Lord
Greenwood twenty-three years ago to be close to her aging parents. She
liked the less demanding pace of a household cook to a restaurant chef. She
was widowed with three children, mostly grown. She and Chris had fun making
the pumpkin pies and carving pumpkins for the table. She did one with two
faces: one side scowling and the other happy. She called this pumpkin Lord
Greenwood before and after Chris. Chris told her not to say that to
anyone. He did not want to get on Grandda's bad side. They both laughed
hysterically at the thought of the old man frowning at Chris. Other members
of the staff snuck into the kitchen to share in the merriment and snatch a
taste.

"Would it be appropriate to ask the entire staff to join us for our meal
tomorrow?" Chris hated to think that the staff would not enjoy the same
meal.

"Oh, you Yanks are so amusing," Mavis chuckled as she pinched Chris's
Cheek. "That will never happen, nor should it. It is not our place to eat
with the family. Our place is to serve." Chris frowned. "But thank you for
the thought. We will have our own feast here in the kitchen." She then
winked at Chris. "Now, mind that if you should happen to wander down here
afterwards, that a dram might be shared."

By 4:00 most everything was prepped and in the large walk-in
refrigerator. Petey appeared and walked over to Chris. "Sir, it is time to
change to meet your in-laws." He looked at Mavis. "I don't want you
bollocked for detaining Master Chris. Clarke would not approve."

"Clarke can sod off," Chris said, startling both Mavis and Petey, although
Mavis hid a grin. "I am in the kitchen, planning a meal with the cook. I am
of the assumption that that is a responsibility of a member of the family."

"Got you there Petey Boy." Mavis now fully grinned. "Besides, he's a Yank
and they don't hold to the traditions like we do." She whipped her hands on
her apron and looked at Chris. "Master Chris, I appreciate your direction
for tomorrow's meal. I can promise that it will be up to your
expectations."

"Thank you Mavis. You have my full confidence." Chris turned to Petey. "Let
us go, then, `you and I when the evening is spread out against the sky'."
He grabbed Petey by the elbow and dragged him from the kitchen.

At 6:30 Petey informed Tom that his family had arrived and were freshening
up in their rooms in the guest wing. Cocktails and hor d'orves would be
served in the formal parlor at 7:30. Dress would be casual. That meant a
tie without a jacket. Lord Greenwood wanted to meet with Chris before he
met with the family. Chris nodded.

A half hour later Petey was at the door to their sitting room with Tracey
in tow. "Master Tom, I found Master Tracey wandering the halls looking for
you. I hope you do not mind that I assisted him in finding you."

"That is fine Petey. Please select what is best to wear for tonight. Also
find something more appropriate for my brother." Tracey was in jeans and a
Columbia University hoodie.

"My pleasure." Petey huffed at Tracey and then went to the dressing room.

"I cannot fucking believe this is where Dad grew up. I always pictured a
quaint cottage but never a mansion out of Downton Abbey."

"It is impressive, until you need to live here. It has far fewer amenities
than our house."

"What's with that guy Petey. Who shoved a stick up his ass?" Tracey nodded
his head toward the dressing room.

"He is our manservant or valet. He takes duties very seriously; give him
time and he will warm up. Be nice to him, and he might take you byrding. He
is your age."

"Why would I want to go byrding. Who wants to watch sparrows or crows?"
Chris laughed. Tracey stopped "Oh, Brit for girls. But I have a guy at
home, don't want to fuck that up."

Tom sighed. "Tracey, you are meeting Grandda tonight for the first
time. Mom has never met him and Dad has not seen him in over twenty-five
years. There will be plenty of tension without you being mouthy or
disrespectful."

"Yeah I got it bro. Dad's about to snap and Mom is trying to sooth the
waters. Don't know all the details, but I get the vibes. And I do know how
to behave. It is just around you that I can say any shit I want without
judgement."

"Sirs, I have laid out attire for the evening, if you would enter the
dressing room, I will assist you." Petey turned back into the dressing
room.

"You mean he actually dresses you?" Tracey whispered to Tom.

"He needs to make sure the balls hang in the most respectful location."
Chris added. Tracey gulped. Tom gave Chris a dirty look, but did not deny
the statement. Much to Tracey's disappointment Petey did not manhandle his
junk. Once each was suitably dressed, with a few pins to Tracey's pants,
Chris left to see Grandda.

Chris walked into the formal drawing with Grandda on his arm. The large
room befitted Miss Marple with the heavily upholstered furniture in greens,
russets, and orange, now faded to dingy sage, taupe and peach. Quent was
standing; he obviously had been pacing until he heard the door open off the
fumoir. Anda was sitting on a sofa, holding Quent's hand. The three
children, anxious and curious, were seated in chairs.

Grandda let go of Chris's arm for Tom to take, who was standing by the
fireplace. Grandda firmly walked up to Quent, pulled him into a firm
hug. "It is so good to have you home son. I have missed you so much."
Despite a stiff upper lip, emotions poured from Grandda like steam from a
kettle.

"I have missed you too Da." Quent was in tears. "I have missed you so
much."

Everyone in the room held their breathe, and then released it to breathe
more slowly as the emotions of the reunion filtered out from the pair
hugging, not wanting to let go of each other. It was Clarke who reset the
room to normal discourse. "Lord Greenwood, would you like the tidbits
served now?"

Grandda released Quent from his grip and looked at Clarke, at first angry
for the interruption, but then grateful for the interruption. "Yes, Clarke,
that would be good."

Clarke approached Quent, did a sharp head bow and said with no emotion in
his face. "Glad to have you home, sir." His voice, however, conveyed the
joy he felt, and Chris assumed the whole house felt it. It was like a clock
on a mantel that stopped decades ago started ticking, and the house chimed
again.

Soon Mavis brought in a cart with three shelves of tasties. The rest of the
household staff, in formal servant dress, also appeared ready for
introductions. For most, except Clarke, Quent and family were unknown, but
still their Lord's long estranged son. The house gossip knew the reason,
did not approve of the reason, but never said a word against the master of
the house.

It was Tracey who took the lead with introducing himself to Grandda. "HI,
Sir, I am your grandson Tracey. The youngest of the children. It is a great
pleasure to meet you Sir." He looked at Grandda. "I hope you do not mind,
but I prefer to call you Grandda than sir. And if I may be so bold, you
have one wicked house."

Grandda scowled at Tracey, "Of course you should call me Grandda." His
smile lit up like a fireplace. "I never thought of Thistledown as wicked,
but I can assure you young man that any wickedness in the past 500 years is
well buried."

Tracey blinked as he parsed Grandda's statement then a bell rang. "Yes, I
would love to learn about the wicked past. But I must apologize, Grandda,
for saying the house is wicked. It is a slang term meaning impressive. And
don't ask me why wicked can mean impressive any more than I can say bee's
knees means impressive."

Grandda laughed. "It is nice to have youth in the house again. And I
appreciate your comment. I have always thought this house wicked too."

Quent, regaining control, continued with the introductions to Grandda and
the staff, who were lined up by the wall. Once introduced, the staff left
with short head bows. Grandda went and sat next to Anda. "Anda, it is far
too long for this meeting. I apologize and can only blame my own stupidity
for not knowing that my son Quent, would find himself a most admirable
wife. I deeply appreciate how you have cared for him all these years and
given him love. A young man, I met recently, told me how special you were,
and what a loving family you have raised. He opened my eyes to how I shut
myself off from this love. I hope you can forgive me." He had his hands
around hers; his hands trembled.

"Da, you don't mind me calling you that. I have hoped for this day for a
long time. I had thought to give you a firm dressing down. But that same
young man, would not want that. What is important is that we are here, with
you. And I want nothing more." She pulled Grandda into a hug, which she
held longer than needed. It was a hug of reassurance and love.

"Sir," Clarke was standing behind the sofa, patiently waiting. "would you
like me to serve the Veuve Clicquot?"

"Is that old stuff still any good?" Grandda looked at Clarke. "I bought a
case in 1977 for the Queen's Silver Jubilee."

"I would not serve it sir if it were off." Clarke was irritated that
Grandda would think that Clarke would serve anything that was not up to his
standards.

"No, you would not Clarke. How foolish of me to question you. So please
pour everyone." He stood and walked to the serving cart. "Now let's see
what Mavis has prepared."

Twenty minutes later Clarke returned to the room. "Dinner is ready."
Grandda took Anda's arm and led his family to the formal dining room, where
the table glittered in crystal and silver. Grandda sat at the head with
Anda on his right and Quent on the left. Tom sat at the other end with
Chris on his right and Tracey on his left.  Petey stood behind Tom ready to
assist, while Clarke was behind Grandda and Mary and Lulu served Linc and
Bette on each side. The meal was complex with stuffed artichokes, turtle
soup, and beef Wellington. For Quent, Mavis prepared Toads in the Hole,
which was one of his favorite dishes. For dessert was a cherry trifle. And
wine flowed.

As the meal was finishing, Grandda stood. "I wish to propose a toast." Wine
glasses were quickly refilled. "To family," He paused to look around the
table. "to my family, whom I welcome home, not only to my house but to my
heart. We have been parted too long, by my unwillingness to bend. And if I
am ever that kind of ass again, beat some sense into me." Cheers were given
and glasses raised. "Now onto the music room for coffee, brandy or port as
you desire. Maybe," Grandda winked at Chris. "My grandson Chris will play
for us."

Chris only played for about an hour, with everyone joining in, because it
was late and the day was long and emotional. Good nights were said. Clarke
said breakfast would be at 8:30. And everyone went to their rooms.

A small fire was in the fireplace, displacing the November cold. Chris and
Tom curled next to each other in bed. "The evening went well." Chris said
as he pulled the heavy blanket around his chin, although the bed was
warm. The work of Petey with a bed warmer. "Do you think we can get Grandda
to the States for a visit?"

"Chris, you are allowed only one miracle, and today was it. It could not
have gone better. I've never seen Grandda smile and laugh so much."

"Who says I'm allowed only one miracle? Every day I am with you is a new
miracle. So, hush. Grandda will visit us and our children."

"If you desire it, it will happen. Now snuggle closer, my husband."



Chris was up early to help in the kitchen with Thanksgiving dinner,
although Mavis, the Cook, insisted that he was only overseeing the
preparations. And to be honest, Chris was more in the way than helpful. The
Cook had everything under control. Clarke let Tom know that Chris was in
the kitchen and that was inappropriate.

"Hey Chris," Tom sauntered into the kitchen in jeans and a T-shirt. "Why
don't we let the professionals do their job. Besides we need to keep Tracey
under control."

Chris knew that Tracey would not be a problem, but looked at Mavis and how
nervous she was with him there. "You are right Tom. Mavis doesn't my
interference. I am just too nervous about Grandda and your parents that I
am hiding down here to avoid any conflict."

Tom knew Chris was lying. "I think, if there were any problems it would
have surfaced last night. Let's go upstairs and enjoy our family."

Chris and Tom found Grandda and Quent in the solarium having breakfast. No
one else was up yet. They were sitting close to each other and
laughing. Quent saw them and said, "Morning boys, you're up early. Please
join us. We were reminiscing and sharing my tales from Hollywood."

Chris and Tom helped themselves to the buffet Mavis had set up on the
sideboard. They sat at the table while Petey poured coffee for each. Petey
had turned into a silent stalker, appearing without sound or warning to
attend them. Chris was enjoying his eggs in a hole, bacon, and fried
potatoes and ignoring the general gossip. "Chris met Braxton yesterday."

"He's a nincompoop," Grandda said. "He thinks he should be the heir because
he has a smidgeon of the gift. He couldn't find his way out of a paper bag
with a ladder in it." Grandda grew serious. "I hope he didn't distress you,
Chris."

"Not in the least. I more likely distress him. Particularly when I informed
him that his girlfriend was pregnant. He didn't know."  While Grandda
chuckled, Chris sipped the coffee, which was excellent. "I do not back down
when confronted by twits or bullies. If he had pushed me further, I know
how to defend myself both verbally and physically."

"I appreciate your strength Chris, but you are not a large man."

	Tom actually laughed. He pulled out his phone and showed Chris at
the biker bar taking down the behemoth. Grandda was laughing. It was a
staccato laugh, horse and seldom used.

"My father insisted I take self-defense lessons," Chris said as
explanation.

"Well, Chris, I am convinced that you can handle yourself." Grandda looked
at the video again and laughed. "The bigger they are," he commented, more
to himself.

Quent had seen the video before, but laughed along with Grandda. Once
things resumed, Quent asked, "Would it be acceptable to visit the Old Man.
I would like to see how my acorn is doing."

"Yes, that would be good." Grandda's response held a hint of rightness to
the request, as if that act would fully bring Quent back into his
life. "It's been a while since I have visited the Old Man. I just can't
walk that far anymore. But I would like to go with you." Grandda looked
longingly out the solarium window in the direction of the old man. "You
should bring the whole family. It would be a good thing."

Quent felt accepted like he had always wanted. And his family, the most
important people in his world, were accepted too. "That would be nice. But
this time I would like just the four of us to go. Tomorrow, I will take my
family."

Within a half hour the four were bundled up and trekking through the crisp
November air, the fallen leaves crackling under foot, and a brisk wind
playing tag with the clouds. Grandda did not walk fast, so the pace was
slow with Chris and Tom on either side of Grandda should he stumble. A pair
of cardinals kept company as they walked to the Old Man. It was the first
time Chris noticed all the saplings in various sizes around the old
man. Chris's acorn had not yet sprouted and likely wouldn't until winter
passed. Quent went to his tree, which was over 15 feet tall and looking
healthy. He pulled a couple of acorns off and then joined the others, who
were admiring the Old Man.

"The Old Man seems smaller than I remember," Quent said as he put an arm
around his father.

"He has shrunk, like me, with age. He was planted in 1604. That puts him at
over 400 years old. He may last another 400, but that is unlikely. His age
is a little beyond normal." Grandda walked forward and ran his wrinkled
hand over the smooth silver bark. The wind ruffled the leaves like the
rubbing of silk. "Tom, would you and Chris start looking for his successor
and thin out any competition around it?"

"We will do that in spring, once the leaves are out." Tom also ran his hand
along one of the several fissures in the tree. "Chris and I will honor and
uphold the Greenwood legacy." Chris joined Tom to offer silent
confirmation.

Chris looked up at the leaf bare tree. It soared almost 90 feet above him,
a ladder to heaven. Chris ran his hand over a gnarled limb that barely
grazed his head. And the immensity of life opened up from beneath the soil,
to those around him, and those distant, rising up into the infinite
sky. Tom has said that the Old Man sometimes spoke.

"Chris, Chris," Tom gently called. "We're leaving. Grandda is getting
chilled."

"Hush, Tom," Grandda chided. "We can wait a few minutes. The Old Man is
talking to Chris."

"Sorry about that," Chris said with a blush. "The Old Man is so magnificent
it is easy to get lost in his splendor."

"That he is, lad, that it is. Now let's go home and have hot chocolate."
Grandda led the way home with more energy.

Hot chocolate was waiting once they shed their coats and wellies and
returned to Grandda's office/library. Grandda sat in a well-worn chair in
front of the cozy fire in the fireplace. Quent sat in another chair while
Tom and Chris sat on a sofa. Grandda looks ran from the fireplace to the
portrait above it. It was of him and his wife. He looked at Quent. "I am
very sorry for what I did. Your mother would never have approved. I was so
blinded by the family traditions that I failed to see the family's future."
Quent said nothing waiting for his father to continue. "You need to know
that I never forgot about you and regretted my action, but I didn't know
how to fix it. And you were doing so well in the States. I watched every
Academy Awards show you were nominated for. I was and am very proud of you
and the wicked, like Tracey would say, family you have." Grandda gave a
wicked grin. "You should be proud of all your children. They are a true joy
and blessing. Thank you for allowing me to meet them and for graciously
permitting me back into your family's lives. I want that to continue."

"Da, I never stopped loving you. Kicking me from the nest was painful, but
I have gained so much happiness from results that I will never regret
it. You shouldn't either. We both know I was never a good fit to become the
future Lord Greenwood. I never was jealous that you treated Tom like a
son. I do worry that Tom and Chris will become so entrenched here that they
lose touch with the world around them."

Grandda chuckled. "You don't want them to become me."

"Yes, I want them to be happy and live full productive lives. This place is
a drain on one's soul. It needs to leave the past and live."

"Yes, son, I see that now, perhaps too late for me to make the changes, but
I feel in my bones that Tom and Chris will be bloody awesome at the task."

"Grandda, why did you choose Tom to be your heir? Particularly since you
know that he likes men. And now that you know about me?" Chris's questions
were to satisfy his curiosity.

"The Old Man." Grandda lost himself in thought for many seconds, but no one
interrupted the silence. "He is old and knows that a new generation will
take his place soon. Tom's tree is the strongest of the planted lot. His
tree will replace the Old Man when the time is right. Which is why he chose
a mate who is as strong or stronger than him. The Old Man is very happy
with the pairing. I know Chris felt his approval." Clarke entered with a
fresh pot of hot chocolate, poured and then disappeared. "How is Petey
doing with helping you?"

"He is taking his job very seriously," Tom lightly laughed.

"Too serious." Chris added with a chuckle. "I'm not accustomed to being
pampered and am not sure how much I like it. But he is very efficient."

"Yes, I am sure this is all new to you Chris, but this is what you have
married into. Most of the chores around this place I could contract out for
less money, but then what would they do. Their families have been in
service to the Greenwoods for generations. We have an obligation to support
them as much as they support us. If any want to leave, and some have. I
will support the choice. Petey is a different situation. His mother, who
worked for us, and was left to raise her son by a no-good bastard, was
terminal. I promised to raise him the best I could. He is a sweet lad and
smart. Having him be your manservant, will broaden his outlook on life and
increase his opportunities. He is too young to be saddled to an old
curmudgeon. And all the staff here are twenty or more years older than
him. I do not want him to fossilize."

"He is attending school. Surely he has friends there?" Chris asked.

"A couple, but they like to drink, do drugs, and have sex. Which is normal
for that age, but Petey is not that kind of kid. He has always been
serious."

"I see that too. He has had no issues with Chris and I as a couple."

Grandda laughed. "I suspect that he has the same inclinations as you
do. But has not had any good role models. North west England is not as
liberal as London."

"If you don't mind, Chris and I have changed our plans to return to the
States from Sunday to Wednesday. We have a meetings Monday and Tuesday in
London. We could take Petey with us. We would make sure that he has a way
back here."

Grandda shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Tom, Chris, I have a favor to
ask." Now Chris and Tom shifted uncomfortably on their sofa. "I would like
you to take Petey with you."

Quent grinned at the boys during the uncomfortable silence like he was
privy to the plan. "What about school? He is close to graduating." Tom
asked.

"I have spoken to the school, discreetly, and he can take courses in the
States on online. He is only six weeks from finishing."

Chris spoke next. "What about a visa."

"I've already arranged a B-1 visa for a domestic employee. I know people in
the State Department. He also has a passport, standard for my staff."

Chris chuckled at how he and Tom were being set up. "What does Petey say
about this? It is his choice too." Chris looked at Grandda.

"I have not asked him, yet. I wanted to be sure that you both were
onboard." Chris looked at Tom, perplexed. Tom returned the same look. "You
can meet with my solicitor, Mrs. Bascomb, on Monday to sort out any legal
issues." Grandda looked at Chris and Tom. "Petey needs this."

Guilt, Grandda was playing the guilt card. Chris sighed and nodded to
Tom. "I guess we have a ward. But I want to talk to Mom first." Tom shot
his Dad an evil look. Quent just chuckled.

"Sirs," Clarke announced. "dinner will be in about an hour if you would
like to join the family in the solarium for cocktails."

"I hope Beach will not be offended." Chris said with a laugh. They joined
the rest of the family in the solarium.

Tracey and Linc had spent the morning with Petey exploring the house. Linc
was fascinated by the architect while Tracey wanted the gory
history. Tracey was disappointed when Petey had said there were no
ghosts. Bette wandered the halls, by herself, examining the art, while Anda
found WIFI and worked.

"I assume the important family business has been resolved." Anda said
looking over her glasses, then winked at Quent. Damn her, she also knew
about Petey. Chris glared at Anda until she started to laugh. She patted a
chair beside her, which Chris took with a weak grumble. "I assume Seymour
spoke about a travel companion." Chris mumbled a yes, not happy but
resigned. "I have been in touch with Mrs. Bascomb, a delightful woman, and
everything is in place. I do this all the time for foreign stars who work
in Hollywood. With your increased workload, you need someone to handle the
details."

Tracey looked over to Chris and his mother. "What traveling companion?
Getting a dog?"

"No. I doubt we can train one since we've been a failure training you."
Tracey gave a fake laugh and went back to talking to Linc. Chris returned
to a conversation with Anda.





The Thanksgiving meal was better than any Chris had ever had. The cranberry
relish was fresh with a hint of orange rind, the turkey succulent, and the
pumpkin pie better than any he ever ate. As the meal closed, Quent
stood. "It is customary for us to say what we are thankful for. I will
start. I am thankful for my beautiful wife, who is the love of my life, a
true companion. I am thankful for my children, including Chris who is now a
solid part of us. And I am very thankful to be here celebrating with my
father and a future of more Thanksgivings with them." Each of the family
followed, echoing the same sentiments until only Chris and Grandda were
left.

Chris rose. "A year ago, I celebrated Thanksgiving at the homeless mission
in Chicago. And I was thankful for the meal I received. But because of Tom,
my husband, and the people around this table, I am truly blessed. It is not
what we have around us that is important but who. To know love, to receive
it, but more important is to give; it is the greatest gift one can have and
give. I think back to a year ago, and I was surviving but not truly love
except for Dion and Hank. I sometimes ask myself if I deserve it, but my
answer is yes because everybody deserves to be loved for who they are and
what they can become. Grandda, I am thankful for you opening your house and
home to us despite the disparate lives we live, so different from here. You
have a grand heart, never lock it away."

Chris sat and Grandda rose. "This is the first Thanksgiving I have ever
celebrated. It is a grand and noble feast because it requires us to look at
what we have and who we have. This would not have happened if Chris had not
knocked some sense into this old carcass. I had dug myself a hole so deep I
could not climb out. But Chris gave me a ladder and a hand. I see around me
people who are strangers when they should not be. But this will change; I
want it to change because I see what I have denied myself for far too
long--my family. My family, who has forgiven my folly.  Quent and Anda, I
see the love you have for each other, and it is reflected in your
children. I thank you for making room for me. Bette, Linc, and Tracey, it
is a joy to have the sounds of youth in these old halls. I will miss you
when you leave, but you know you are expected to be back often. Thank you
each and every one." Grandda sat down with tears running down his face, but
then everyone else did too.

After the meal and coffee in the music room, Chris said he was going down
to the kitchens to thank the staff. Grandda insisted on coming with him.

The kitchen was a humbug of noise and laughter until spotting Grandda. All
immediately rose, stood erect with heads bowed. "Cut off this nonsense,"
Grandda said with a wave of his hands toward the table filled with
food. "This is your time to feast. I will not stay long, but we celebrated
today an American custom of Thanksgiving; a time to appreciate the people
around us. I want to say how much I appreciate your dedication and loyalty
to this house and me. I know that I have not been the easiest person to
serve for a very long time. But you remained and persisted. As you may
know, but now I am officially telling you, I have named my grandson,
Thomas, as my heir. I believe that he and his husband Chris will make good
stewards of this house. Although they were legally married in the
States. They will be officially married here at the chapel next month on
Boxer Day. The house needs to be ready. I appreciate your input on what
needs to be done. Again, thank you for your service." Grandda turned,
leaving to the sound of the staff standing and chanting, "Hip hip hooray to
Lord Greenwood." It had been far too long since he had heard that; it had
been far too long since he deserved it.

Chris remained and sat at the table next to Mavis, who made room for
him. "Mavis, thank you for the best Thanksgiving meal I have ever had. The
pumpkin pie was a miracle of perfection." A glass of whiskey floated to
Chris's hand by an unseen deliverer. "And I and Tom want to thank you for
the warm welcome you have given us. As Tom and I assume more
responsibilities, we will need to depend upon you to provide the service
and dedication to maintaining the fine old home.  Unfortunately, Tom and I
still have our jobs in the States and will be living there most of the
time, so it is even more important that you maintain the house you are part
of. We will be back often, because the company Tom and I work for will be
expanding to London."

"Will there be any changes in staff, Sir," Clarke asked.

"No, why would we want to change what is working well. Besides, Lord
Greenwood is still the master of this house. But Tom and I will take on the
more onerous tasks."

"Thank you sir." Clarke said. "We were worried, but will do our best to
make you proud of us." Chris thanked him. "There is one other issue that
the staff want to say." Chris waited slightly tense. "We want to thank you
for giving Lord Greenwood back his life and reuniting his family. The old
toad is much happier and nicer, which makes working here far better. We
worried that the heir would want to sell the place or not care. And quite
frankly some of the Greenwoods are horrid." Clarke stopped not sure if he
should continue, but he did. "We are concerned that you and Master Thomas
will not have any children. Not that any of us object to the union of you
two. The love between you is obvious. And you are happy and you both are
kind and considerate. Master Thomas being a lover of men is not the issue,
but the issue is issue."

Chris sat back and laughed, which confused Clarke. "Distant cousin Braxton
has the same issue. But as I assure him, I assure you: Tom and I plan on
having children and have taken steps to ensure that we will when the time
is right. I won't discuss how because that is personal. But once we are
older, like twenty-five, we will have our children, several."

"Very good, Sir." Clarke said with a bow and sat. Chris finished his drink
and returned to the music room and the family.

Friday, Tracey wanted to visit Wales, the border was about twenty miles to
the west, while Linc wanted to visit historic Shrewsbury. Petey would drive
Tracey and Chris to Powis Castle, and Tom would take Link, Bette, and Anda
to Shrewsbury. This left Quent time alone with his father. Both groups were
to return to Thistledown by tea time or 3:30 PM. The solarium was set for
tea when Chris and Tracey entered at 3:25. Grandda looked up but said
nothing.

"Did you enjoy the trip?" Quent asked. The unleashed a torrent from Tracey,
who was beyond stoked by the medieval castle and less so by the gardens,
which where fallow in November. Finally, after ten minutes of Tracey's
logorrhea, Quent edged in a word. "I'm glad you had fun. I'd not been there
in decades. Did you see the portrait in the gate room, of the lady from the
1600s." Tracey said no; he was not that interested in portraits. "That is
your great, many times, grandmother."

"O sh..." Tracey grabbed his mouth. "Oh sweet daffodils, I never realized
that my ancestors were part of history. I mean I knew about the heir rings,
but they were gifts. But ... I am part of that past." Tracey sat back in
his chair. He looked around the room. On the wall opposite the glass wall
were a couple of ratty portraits. "Those are our ancestors too?" He waved
his hand at the portraits.

"Yes, laddie." Grandda said with a satisfied grin. "They are. My sister
Mary keeps track of the genealogy of the family. You will meet her at Tom
and Chris's nuptials. She will wear your ears down to nubs if you show too
much interest."

Anda, Linc, Bette and Tom rushed into the room. Tom knelt before
Grandda. "Forgive us for being late. Never take an architect student into a
historic town, particularly as old as Shrewsbury."

"I also must take blame for being tardy." Anda knelt in front of Grandda
too. "You have so many fascinating shops, I could not help but browse."

Quent turned to his father. "She means buy. Will it fit on the plane?"

"Don't worry dear. It is being shipped."

Grandda broke into loud guffaws. "She is so much like your mother, Quent. I
will forgive your tardiness, Anda, because I often did the same for my late
wife for the very same reason." Anda found room to sit next to Quent, who
rolled his eyes and patted her hand. Tom shoved himself onto Chris's lap.

"Grandda," Linc spoke, "as I progress in my studies, could I come back and
study the buildings in more detail."

"I would love to have any of you back any time for as long as you like."
There was a sparkle in the old man's eyes, like one seeing the world for
the first time. "Although Tom and Chris are the caretakers, this is their
home too."

Grandda looked at Clarke who was serving more tea. "Yes, sir, I will
arrange for the other rooms in the family wing to be ready for their next
visit." Grandda smiled at Clarke, who only nodded back.

Mavis came into the solarium. "I am sorry to disturb you Lord Greenwood,
but everybody was out. I planned dinner tonight without advice. I hope
Italian is acceptable." Tracey gave an enthusiastic yes, remembered himself
and sat back in his chair.

Grandda chuckled. "I think that will be acceptable." Mavis bowed and left.

Chris looked at Tom, who had moved to a chair. "And what did my husband
buy?"

"Do not fret beloved husband. It will be shipped." Everybody laughed.

"To where?"

"Both places." Then Tom looked at Chris and batted his eyes. "And Chicago."

"Are we buying a place there too?"

"Not a bad idea, but something for your parents." Tom showed him pictures
on his phone. "a tea set for your mother, a cricket bat for your father,
and a necklace for Britney."

"What will my dad do with a cricket bat?"

"Learn to play cricket." Tom replied without batting an eyelash. "He told
me he collected baseball memorabilia. Cricket is the English version of
baseball, and the bat is signed by Bradman, who was the greatest cricket
player ever. He is iconic as Babe Ruth."

"My dad will love it." Chris leaned over and kissed Tom. "Thanks for
thinking of them."

Grandda rose. "I need to rest a little before dinner. Dress is casual, so
jeans are fine. Need to get rid of that tortuous tradition of dressing for
family meals." Clarke looked at Chris and Tom and just shrugged.



After dinner, which was a traditional five course Italian meal, Chris and
Tom told Petey that the three of them needed to meet with Grandda. Petey
blanched. Tom reassured him that nothing was wrong.

They met in the main office on the first floor, not the office off
Grandda's bedroom. This room had a large black walnut desk, Jacobean
chairs, Chris thought original, with floral cushions, and two heavy black
walnut sideboards with chinoiserie vases and a tantalus.

Petey stood while Chris and Tom sat in the two chairs. "Petey, you have
grown up in this house and are soon to be an adult." Grandda said
solemnly. "You have served me and the house well, but it has limited your
exposure to the world and what you want to do with your life. That is why,
it is in your best interest to leave service in the house."

"Sir," Petey was in tears, "This is all I know. I don't know how to survive
on me own."

"That is exactly why I am cutting your service to me." Petey was
balling. "And transferring to Thomas and Chris. That is if you want?" Chris
surreptitiously handed Petey a handkerchief, but otherwise neither he nor
Tom stirred.

Petey gasped in mid sob. "You mean I could work for Masters Tom and Chris?"
Grandda nodded. Petey thought, while whipping his eyes. "I would be their
manservant....But they do not live here."

"You would come home with us to the States." Tom said with a wide smile.

"Mean I would live with you?"

"Yes, as our valet." Tom said.

"What about school?"

"Grandda talked to your school and will allow you to finish online." Chris
said, "However, Tom and I agree that you come back to the State with us and
return when we do next month. You stay here, finish your education and then
become a permanent part of our household."

"Is this acceptable to you Grandda?" Tom asked.

"It is very acceptable." He replied with a nod.

"Tomorrow, my family returns to the States. We will also go to London on
Sunday and sightsee. That means you have tomorrow to pack what you need to
take with you." Chris said.

"We meet with Grandda's solicitor on Monday at 11:15 AM, to make sure all
the paperwork is in order for you to enter the States. We will shop for any
other essentials you might need, like a phone and laptop."

"My own phone and laptop. Really my own." Chris thought Petey might pee in
his pants with excitement.

"Really, almost every teenager has a phone and most have laptops." Tom
said, smiling. "We also need to have you dressed to your role as our
valet. I was thinking a French maid outfit, with a short skirt. ...And
black panties."

Petey looked shocked until he caught Chris's wink. "That would be perfect
Sir, but I would prefer being naked." Tom choked on his inhale. Petey
laughed. "As long as I don't look stodgy like Clarke, I trust your taste."
Grandda chortled.

"Can you cook?" Chris asked. "Not that it is a requirement."

"I do fair in the kitchen, Mavis has been teaching me, but I'm not that
good."

"Once you graduate, you need to think about Uni. If you want to attend
college, we will fully support that." Tom looked at Chris for confirmation.

"I'm not sure what I want to do. I thought I would take a gap year to
decide. This opportunity will be perfect. In a year we can discuss
college."

"We have a plan," Tom said as he looked at Grandda.

"I believe this will work out for everybody, although I will miss Petey."
Grandda stood and poured everyone a glass of scotch. "To the future." Petey
choked on the astringent drink but took a second sip.

As everyone stood to leave, Petey turned to Grandda. "Sir, I want to thank
you for looking after me all these years. I will do everything I can to
make you proud of me." He hugged Grandda, who was at first taken aback, but
he returned the hug.



Saturday Tom, Chris, Grandda, and the staff said goodbye to Tom's
family. Tom told his parents that he and Chris, with Petey, would not be
back in L.A. until December 9th. They would be spending time in New York
and then Chicago. Chris was beginning to think a small apartment in Chicago
might be convenient. Chris and Tom spent the day with Clarke touring the
house and what repairs or changes need to be done. They did not meet
Ms. Bellows, Grandda secretary and her husband Woodword, Grandda's
accountant. They were in Spain on holiday. The servants planned a small
farewell party for Petey; the family was not invited. Clarke made that very
clear in the most polite way.

The next morning, too early for Chris, Petey was packing clothes for their
return to New York. Tom and Chris were leaving most of their clothes since
they would be back in a few weeks. This left room for some of the baubles
Tom bought in Shrewsbury. Petey had a small sack with a few clothes and a
few pictures. Tom made a comment to Chris to be sure to buy Petey a decent
suitcase since he would be traveling with them. Chris added decent clothes
too. Neither Chris nor Tom was a clothes snob, but they now traveled in a
more rarefied crowd. Petey needed to look the part of a smartly dressed
valet. His manners also needed to be polished, although Clarke was a
stickler for protocol. By 9:30, after tears from Mavis, and hugs from
Grandda, Tom, Chris, and Petey climbed into the Austin Martin. Petey barely
fit his tall thin frame into the backseat, but Chris insisted on renting a
4 door rather than the smaller sports car, but had been over-ruled by
Tom. It would not happen again. It was a three-hour trip, and they would
stop for lunch, so Petey would survive.



After checking into the hotel that they stayed at the last time in London
and arranging for a cot for Petey, Tom drove to Harrod's since Chris wanted
the experience.

Petey had been to London thrice on school trips, but this was a whole new
side of London. The size of the store blew Petey away. They first went to
the men's department, where they bought Petey five pairs of slacks, three
pairs of jeans, 10 dress shirts, five polo, three pairs of dress shoes and
two pairs of sneakers. Plus the required under garments and socks. Petey
could only follow Tom and Chris around try on items and nod if he liked
them: he had never had any experience like this. Chris and Tom did not even
look at the prices. He tried to protest once, but was sharply cut
off. Meekly, he followed them around.

"Mr. Wentworth," an older man of about 40 in a well-tailored suit
interrupted while Petey was being fitted for trousers. "I am Mr. Langley,
the Department Manager. Harrod's wants to extend its welcome for shopping
at our establishment. I hope you don't mind, but I have ordered
refreshments while you shop." Two staff brought chairs for Tom and Chris to
sit on while other staff brought items that might fit Petey for Chris to
review. Champagne and finger sandwiches were soon on a table between
them. Mr. Langley stayed directing a bevy of staff.

"Mr. Wentworth." a woman of about 50, dressed in a fitted black wool suit
that enhanced her grey hair. She held out her hand to Chris. Chris and Tom
stood. "I am Ms. Dandridge, the Assistant Store Manager. I saw you at the
Fashion Week last month and was impressed by your poise and command of the
runway. Remarkable for a man so young. Rumor has it that you will be
settling in England and starting a fashion agency."

"You have not met my husband, Thomas Greenwood, heir of Lord Greenwood."
Chris could not help shoving that in. Tom was now definitely noticed. "He
is actively looking at a branch of our company here in London. As you know
I am an American and Tom has dual citizenship so it makes working here
easier."

Chris and Tom sat as Ms. Dandridge was provided a chair and sat. "What
company is that?"

"It is Dreamweavers. They are based in Chicago with branches in New York
and recently L.A., which Tom helped establish. We are looking at a branch
in Europe at the request of several design houses." Chris gave her a star
worthy smile.

"I spoke last week with five design houses here in Great Britain about
their needs and how Dreamweavers may assist them. I will recommend to the
board that we further pursue a site in Europe, likely London, since, as
Chris as said, I must start assuming some of my Grandda's duties over
Thistledown."

"Does this mean Sir Greenwood that you will be permanently living in
England." Chris could almost feel her rubbing her hands together in greedy
delight.

"Not at present. We recently purchased a home in Malibu, near my parents,
Quenton and Miranda Greenwood. We will be traveling frequently between
there, Chicago, our home in New York and here. I suspect we will be here
frequently."

"Your Grandfather named you heir and not your father?" Mr. Langley asked
and then quickly realized that was very inappropriate.

Tom gave him a withering look. "My father has a very successful career as a
screenwriter in Hollywood, two Oscars so far. And quite frankly, my Grandda
has not updated Thistledown in decades. My father prefers warm California
to a drafty mansion. If I could, I would decline too." Both Mr. Langley and
Ms. Dandridge gasped at the thought of turning down a titled estate.

"Sirs, I am sorry to interrupt but does this meet your approval." It was a
twink attendant with Petey standing awkwardly behind him. The twink pushed
Petey in front of him. Petey stood with hands at his side tongue
tied. "This is our new valet in-training. We need him dressed appropriate
to our station." Tom tilted his head regally at Petey. Both Mr. Langley and
Ms. Dandridge nodded knowingly. Tom wanted to laugh. Chris sat primly with
one hand on Tom's knee.

"Tom, dear, we need not take more of these people's time. We need to be at
Hélène Darroze by 8:00 for our dinner reservation."

Tom knew there was no such reservation but played along. "Yes, pet, of
course. We should not dawdle." Tom rose, so Ms. Dandridge was required
to. "Thank you for your time. The young man assisting us is more than
adequate to meet our needs."

"Of course, Sir Greenwood and Mr. Wentworth, I understand." She paused
before she turned away. "Would Dreamweavers be interested in contracting
with us?"

"We would consider it." Tom said thoughtfully. "We do have a contract with
Macy's in the US. I do not see a conflict of interest."

"We are having lunch with Angie Beachamp." Chris casually added to the
conversation. "Would you mind if I mentioned a potential contract between
us. I know it is early, but it is good publicity for both of us."

"Beauty and brains." Ms. Dandridge said. "Please, a mention would be
appreciated. "Come Mr. Langley, we have a contract to consider." Once they
were out of sound both Chris and Tom burst out laughing. Petey stood
confused and the attendant only grinned.

"Sirs, I am Clyde. I am most happy to assist you." The young man held out
his hand which Chris and Tom shook.

"Thank you Clyde. We appreciate your help." Tom said. "We have most of the
slacks our valet will need immediately before we can get home. We need
casual wear, jeans, khakis, and some club wear." Chris looked at
Tom. "Jazzabel's." Chris nodded.

"Very good sirs. Now that I have Petey's sizes we can move quickly." Within
two hours they had Petey well attired for New York and Chicago with warmer
clothes and lighter garb for L.A..

Chris looked at the pile. "We will need three suitcases. Can you help us
with that. We need something that will hold up to airplane luggage
gorillas, so hard cases."  Another hour later they were done.

Clyde said, I can have the alterations ready by Monday evening and
everything else delivered to the hotel today." Clyde paused nervous, but
Chris waited. "I heard that you are opening a new model agency. I am
finishing my degree in photography from University of Arts London. Would
you look at my portfolio?"

Tom looked at Chris, who had better intuition about hidden talent. "Could
you join us for breakfast?" Chris asked.

"Yes, Sir. Any place any time. I am off tomorrow."

"Could you meet us at Ivy Market Grill at say 9:00 AM?" Tom asked.

"Yes, sir. I live relatively close and know the place."

"Very good. We will see you tomorrow." Tom looked at Chris. "I am shopped
out; let's go back to the hotel." As Tom was leaving he slipped Clyde a
fifty-pound note.

In the car back to the hotel, Chris said. "I was not lying when I said we
had reservations at Helene Daroze. I had Mavis make them for three; she
knows the chef." Chris looked at Petey scrunched in the back seat. "You are
expected to join us." Chris turned front forestalling any objections.

"Sirs," Petey said from the back of the car. "I've been thinking and
calling me Petey is too childish for your manservant. But I don't like
Peter or my last name Snog."

"We want you to be comfortable in yourself." Chris said looking at
Petey. "Do you have a middle name?"

"Owen."

"Very good. I like it. It is strong. What do you think Owen?"

"Very good sirs. I like it too."

Back at the hotel, Chris slept a little before Harrod's delivered
everything that did not need alterations. There was only one pair of black
pants of Owen's in the delivery, which would be fine for the evening. Tom
needed to show Owen how to tie a tie, but he cleaned up well. Needed a
haircut, but with a little styling and gel, it was trendy.

After a three-star five course dinner, they were back at the hotel with a
brandy each. "Owen, what did you learn during dinner?"

Owen laughed, "Besides not to use a salad fork for caviar, which is rather
gross. That fine dining needs an appropriate wine. I liked how they told us
how we could prepare each dish at home. Also, how efficient the waiters
are, they do their job with barely being noticed. But mostly how ignorant I
am of the world. I detected four or five languages in the restaurant. I do
know French. Both Mavis and Clarke speak it so they forced me to learn it."

As Owen crawled under the sheets of his cot, he said, "This cot is nicer
than at home, or Thistledown. Where you are is now home for me." He was
quiet as he thought about being away from his family for the first time
ever. But he was not homesick, just excited about seeing the world with two
kind gentlemen. "Thank you sirs for allowing me the opportunity to serve
you. I will not let you down."

"We are both glad to have you with us, not as a servant but as a friend."



Owen was up before Chris and Tom. He took care of his personal hygiene and
dressed in new jeans, long sleeve Henley of soft cotton, and leather track
shoes. He was in the middle of laying out clothes for Tom when Tom
awoke. "What time is it?"

"7:13 Sir. I am laying out your clothes and coffee should be delivered
shortly."

	Tom mumbled a thanks and bounced naked to the shower. Owen barely
noticed. He returned in light grey slacks and a soft yellow dress
shirt. "Since you are meeting with the solicitor at 11:30 I thought
something more formal and then there is the interview in the afternoon."

"Yes, this is perfect. You have a good eye for color." A knock at the door
announced coffee. Owen went to the door took the cart, signed the ticket,
added a tip without letting the server in. Tom looked at Owen but did not
question his actions. "Master Chris is still asleep. I did not want a
stranger to see him sleeping."

"I appreciate that, Own." Chris said from the bed. "But I need to get my
day going. Without thinking Chris threw back the covers, exposing his naked
body. Owen stood stock still not knowing what to do. Chris was a
woman. Chris covered himself up. "Tom, would you get me a robe? And while I
am showering, do a little education for the traumatized young man. While
Tom went to get the robe, Chris was curious why he was not embarrassed to
be seen naked by Own. He felt like Owen only saw a naked man, who happened
to be missing a penis. He did not see a woman. This was the first time he
ever considered, truly his body as misaligned, and not his mind. Tom
returned with the robe and Chris went into the bathroom to stand naked in
front of the mirror and reassess his self-image in a positive way.

Chris returned from the bathroom wearing dark brown slacks and pale blue
shirt, that complemented his eyes. "This choice is very good, Owen."

"Thank you. Sit. Now please sit so I can pour your coffee. I have already
added the cream, as you prefer." Owen was his same self after Tom's
revelation. He accepted who Chris was and did not treat him any
differently.

By 9:00 Chris and Tom entered the restaurant (Owen opted to remain in the
room organizing and packing the suitcases). Clyde was already at a table
with a steel briefcase. "Good morning Sirs," Clyde was jittery.

"Please call us by our given names Tom and Chris." Tom said as he pulled
out a chair for Chris and then sat. A waitress soon stopped by with cups,
offering tea, a pot, which the three took. She was soon back for their
order. Tom had the full English breakfast (Chris shuddered at the thought
of black pudding), Chris went with eggs royale, and Clyde opted for the
smoked salmon crumpet.

"Chris, Tom, thank you for seeing me. I know I don't have much experience,
but my instructors think I do good work. I'm at the top of my class. I
would have been higher except for physics."

"Chris has a nose for talented people." Tom said. "He thinks you might be
what we need here in London."

"Could I see your portfolio?" Chris asked. Clyde opened the briefcase and
handed Chris a thick ring binder.

Chris took the binder and paged through it, often making Tom look at a
photo. "Oh, this one is superb." He showed the photo to Clyde so that he
would know which he referred to.

"That is of my ex-boyfriend about a week before we broke up."

It was a black and white photo of a tall very thin man wearing only jeans,
the top button undone; His ribs and hip bones clearly exposed creating dark
shadows from the window to the right of the subject. The arms were at the
side, but the hands were almost starting to clench. But it was the face
that compelled the viewer. Like the rest of the body, it was almost
emaciated, but there was fire in the eye: anger, lust, helplessness. The
angularity, sparseness of his body was juxtaposed by an intricate floral
wallpaper behind the subject. The man's shadow rippled over the cracked
tile floor.

"Ariel would like this photo." Tom nodded agreement. "Clyde, you are very
talented. You could make a career out of art photography."

	"Thank you, Chris. I appreciate the compliment. But art photography
does not pay well until you have an established reputation. I need to have
a reliable income since I help support my mum and three younger
siblings. Harrod's pays minimal. I know fashion photographers do much
better. If I have an internship with a reputable company, I have a better
chance of a good job when I graduate school in nine months."

Tom looked at his plate of food, which was now delivered, savoring the
smells. He looked at Clyde. "We will not be in any position to bring on a
photography until the earliest the middle of March. We do not even have a
building. We don't have board approval yet. That will happen when we return
to Chicago this week. But I do not want to lose a potential employee. You
would be an asset to use."

"Clyde, can I keep this portfolio?"

"Yes, I have several."

"Thanks, I want to show it to Gorky and Dorn." Chris sat silent looking at
Clyde. "What are you doing the day after Christmas?"

 "I have the week off school. Harrod's is closed for Christmas and Boxer
Day."

"Would you like to take wedding pictures. This is not to demean your
talent, but Tom and I are having a second nuptial at his family
estate. Many of the decision makers for Dreamweavers will be in
attendance. Think of this as an informal interview."

"My instructor. Mr. Hample, says wedding photography is a dead-end career
for hacks, unless they do royalty. Lord Greenwood is your grandfather. And
obviously the way the Assistant Manager pranced in front of you yesterday,
you are famous. I am now sure that his advice is solid. I will do it."

"Very good," said Tom. "Chris, we have an 11:30 meeting with the solicitor
so we need to run." Everybody stood.

"Thank you Chris, Tom, for breakfast and taking the time to evaluate my
work. I feel more confident that I will find a decent job, even if
Dreamweavers does not materialize."

"I do see you working at Dreamweavers. Hang on for a bit. At least until
Christmas."

"Trust Chris. He does get what he wants." With that they left to pick up
Owen and drive to the solicitor, who was on the other side of the Thames.



Mrs. Hortensia Bascomb was a short slight woman of about 60 with dyed red
hair.  Her voice was raspy likely from too many cigarettes. After her
receptionist guided them into her office over stuffed with law books. She
looked at Chris and Tom. "OK kiddos let's get this shit over with. It is
all straight forward. I need Chris and Tom to sign the affidavit that Peter
Owen Snog is employed as a domestic servant, that his official place of
residence is England, namely Thistledown, and that you are personally
responsible for his care and well-being. Although Peter is of age of
majority in England, he is not in the United States. The next document is a
full power of attorney for financial and medical decision making. Lord
Greenwood, as his official guardian has signed the paperwork appointing you
both. You need to sign to accept it. Next is an employment contract, very
generic for a manservant: taking care of personal property, maintaining
your properties, cooking, doing light home repair and yard maintenance,
etc. In exchange you will pay him a monthly salary paid out bi-weekly. This
is easier to track than hourly. And provide him room and board. The final
provision of the contract is the escape clause where either party can end
the contract for cause. If that occurs you must pay for his transportation
back to England. The next document is a timesheet. Hours actually worked
must be recorded. I would suggest designated hours off each day and days
off each week. These can fluctuate from day to day and week to week as long
as it is recorded. Since the monthly salary will exceed any minimum wage
requirements, I expect no issues with wage and hours in the United
States. Also, you will need to track his income for tax purposes. Taxable
income varies in the States by states. Since you have two homes, taxes
become complicated. I assume you have an account and an attorney on
retainer. I also recommend that you contact an immigration attorney when
you return to the States. Any questions?"

"We are flying home late tomorrow. Will Peter's paperwork be completed by
then?" Tom asked.

"I will deliver the documents to the US Embassy after this meeting. I
should have Peter's Visa by tonight. All of this is straightforward and not
unusual."

"Good. How long is the visa for? We will be traveling with Peter back and
forth to England fairly often and I don't want to renew the visa each time
we leave England."

"It is good for at least four years."

"What are we paying Peter?" Again Chris. "The contract stipulates $5,000 a
month with the option of a bonus after six months. At your discretion. You
can deduct the cost of room and board from the wages or include them as
part of the salary."

"Let's keep it simple and we will include them as part of the benefits. We
will also need to get him health insurance." Tom said looking at Chris for
confirmation.

"I have already arranged for health insurance. The policy is included in
your packet. Now if Peter would go with my secretary for a passport photo."
She rang her secretary who took Owen to another room. "Another issue is
you; Tom being named heir to the Greenwood Estate. I have been your
Grandda's solicitor for thirty years, but you are free to select your
own. As heir, I need to add you to various documents which you and Lord
Greenwood need to sign. As heir, you also have access to specific accounts
designated for the heir. And as heir you can sit in Parliament if Lord
Greenwood designates you as his proxy. Lord Greenwood has not in a very
long time. He uses a proxy. Your marriage to a man, would have disqualified
you from the inheritance until recently; I do not see that as an issue. All
of this can be taken care of when you next visit, which I understand will
be in a few weeks. I am looking forward to the nuptials." Owen returned to
the office. "Very good. Everything is signed and in order. I will now hand
deliver these to the Embassy. Here are your copies. Have a nice day and I
will see you next month. It has been a pleasure meeting you Peter. You are
off on a grand adventure." She stood and escorted them out.

"That was efficient," Chris said as they slid into the car.

 "We need to take Owen back to the hotel and then meet Angie. She is on the
other Bank."



The meeting with Angie was to last an hour but went over by thirty minutes
because she was so catty about fashionistas she knows. The interview went
well. No faux pas, gaffs, or wardrobe malfunctions. Chris mentioned that
Harrod's might be interested in working with Dreamweavers. Angie said they
need the help. Driving away, Tom felt they had gained more from the meeting
about the needs and culture of European fashion that she received about
Dreamweavers plans and Chris's take on European fashion.



Since their flight was not until 5:30 PM, which would put them home in New
York about 9:00 PM, they slept late and then spent the day sightseeing:
Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, changing of the guard at Buckingham
Palace, and Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.

The flight back in upper class was comfortable. This was Owen's first time
on an airplane; he was nervous and excited. It was still dark when they
arrived at Kennedy leaving all of New York was lit up like for Christmas,
but then it was the Christmas season. Brooklyn was festive with lights on
streets, stores, and homes. Owen and Chris gawked at the lights, while
Chris chattered about decorating for Christmas. Tom only rolled his eyes at
the taxi driver.

The next day they did not need to be at Dreamweavers; it was for rest. A
ton of mail was piled into the box, mostly catalogues and junk, since most
bills were paid electronically. Several boxes were outside their door. Tom
unlocked the door. "Welcome home sirs." Beach's baritone voice greeted
them. Owen jumped, looking for the person who greeted them. Chris quickly
explained that Beach was virtual, but Owen was still suspicious. Chris
showed Owen the guest room, where he would be staying. Tom mentioned
turning the storage room into Owens. It would give him his own
entrance. Chris would need to discuss it with the co-op first.

"Sirs, you sit and relax. I will unpack everything." Chris looked at Tom
and sat on the sofa, while Tom opened a bottle of wine.

	"Sirs, Millie is at the door." Beach said.

Owen ran from the master bedroom to the door and opened it. "Welcome ma'am,
my masters are in the living room if you would like to join them.

Millie tilted her head and gave Owen a cockeyed look, but followed
him. Both Chris and Tom were standing to greet Millie, who hugged them
both, long and hard.

"Glad to have you back. For how long?" Tom said three days. She glanced
over her shoulder at Owen, who was not certain what to do. "Is he a new
kink?...Masters?"

Tom and Chris sat back on the sofa while Millie took a chair. "No, he is
our valet." Chris said. "Owen, I would like to introduce you to our good
friend and neighbor. She lives below us. Treat her like family."

Owen walked over and gave a crisp bow of his head. "A pleasure to meet you
Ma'am."

"Didn't Chris say I was like family?" Millie grabbed Owen and hugged him
and then kissed him on the forehead, she had to drag him down to her level
to place the kiss. "Now, I am Millie and never Ma'am me, unless you want a
good paddling."

Owen stood straight and rigid once released by Millie at a total loss. But
then he smiled. "Pleasure, Millie. I must learn how informal people are in
the States. Would you like something to drink?"

"Wine would be fine. Whatever the boys are drinking." She said as she sat
back in the chair.

"Owen, pour yourself a glass and join us." Tom yelled to Owen. Owen wanted
to object but only sighed "When in Rome".

"So, tell me all about your Thanksgiving. Did the reunion go well?" Between
Chris and Tom and a few additions by Owen, Millie was up to date. "Now tell
me about this handsome lad here." She pointed to Owen. Owen mostly told
Millie with very few words from Chris. "Well lad, you could not be in
better hands than these two. Especially if you are gay." Owen
blushed. "They have the most interesting gay friends. My life has never
been more interesting than after Chris moved in here. You will love working
for them." Millie rose and headed toward the door. "You must be exhausted
after traveling. We'll see you tomorrow." With hugs Millie left.

"She is very...energetic." Owen said. "I like her."

	"She is one in a million. And she seldom has filters on what she
says, so don't take offense if she is blunt." Chris was suddenly
exhausted. "I'm going to bed. Guest bed should be fully made up, just hit
the button we showed you when you are ready for bed. There is a remote for
the TV on the coffee table. Night." Chris left for the bedroom.

Tom and Owen sat in the living room quiet for a bit. "How are you holding
up. This is all a big change for you." Tom poured both more wine.

"Overwhelmed but excited too. This is not Thistledown, Clarke, Mavis, and
Lord Greenwood. Things are far less formal here. I mean how did Millie know
that I'm gay much less say it?"

"She didn't know until you blushed." Tom laughed; then Owen.

"Yeah, I did give myself away. Chris is only a few years older than me, but
he is so mature and measured, but honest and open."

	"A friend of his sister told me that he was an old soul. But until
we met, he did not have an easy life. It was far from what it is now. And
he has his moments of self-doubt and fear. The body dysmorphia I told you
about this morning is a daily challenge. It is better now that he is on
testosterone treatments, but .... How would you react if tomorrow you woke
up and had breasts?"

"I'd freak out after I gave them a squeeze to see if they are real. I may
be gay, but I consider myself as masculine. That is how I identify."

"From talking to Chris, since he was two he identified as masculine, but
every time he looked in the mirror, he had a feminine body. And people
treated him as feminine with all the social bull shit to being a woman. And
his parents were not supportive. They are now, thankfully. But it is real
strength of character to become who he knows he is without crumbling to
social pressure or taking a quick exit. The more time I spend with Chris,
the more I appreciate what an amazing person he is. I thank all gods who
will listen for Chris allowing me to be part of his life."

"After how he changed Lord Greenwood, the entire staff at Thistledown will
do everything they can to protect him. You do not know how horrid the Lord
was. He was not intentionally cruel, but he was hard to please. It was like
working in a prison. We had heavy staff turnover. Our only hope and why
those you met stayed was the knowledge that you might become the heir. The
summers you spent at Thistledown brought life to the place." Owen stared
into his wine glass. "Not one person on staff has voiced any objections to
you marrying Chris, even Clarke. You are right that Chris is special. I
don't know how to express it, but he is warmth, love, and life." Owen
paused again. Tom was pleasantly surprised that Owen was talking like a
peer rather than a servant, reserved and closed. "Lord Greenwood was
absolutely giddy after you and Chris left last month. He said that Chris
was a blessing to the house, a gift to the Greenwoods. If he accepted Chris
into the family, we had hopes too. The more we were around him, the more we
saw what his Lordship meant."  Tom was nodding agreement. "I am rambling
and this is not a conversation that the help usually has with the
employer. But I think our relationship will evolve to be deeper than that,
and I welcome it." He reached over and hugged Tom. "I am going to bed
before my sleep deprived brain says too much." Owen stood and left.

Tom picked up the wine glasses and put them in the kitchen, pondering what
Owen said.