Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss - Season 2

Ch. 26: Sleepover

When I get to the door I raise my hand to knock, then I think the hell with that and I open the door and step inside, setting the bag I use as a carryon just inside the front door on the hall consul table.

I can hear Patricia's voice, desperate and stressed, demanding that Andy get ready to go out. My grandfather is trying to convince here that they aren't actually going anywhere, and at the point I go down the hall and find them in what they refer to as "the morning room" Patricia is pretty much hysterical. She's accusing Andrew of ruining the evening, and when Olivia tries to step in and sooth her Patricia turns on her, demanding to know who she is and what she's doing here in Patricia's house.

The look exchanged between Andrew and Olivia is one of hopelessness and I realize even a trained professional can't always magically take away the agitation and confusion of a dementia patient.

If it's been like this all week no wonder my grandfather has been looking like he suddenly aged ten years.

I back away before anyone notices me and go back out to the front hallway and grab my bag. Then I reopen and slam the door and walk quickly down the hallway toward the morning room, carrying my little suitcase with me.

"Mama!" I call out. "Are you home, Mama?" I have no idea if this will work. What I do know is it can't get any worse, so why not try.

Everything goes silent, then I hear a watery voice call "Laura? Is that you Laura?"

I step into the room, plastering a huge smile on my face and brandishing my overnight bag. "Surprise!" I shout. "I came home for the weekend, Mama, because I've just missed you so much."

Then I drop the suitcase as Patricia runs into my arms.

"Oh, Mama," I say and she wraps her arms around me and holds on like I'm the one sure thing in a world that's suddenly gone mad. A world she doesn't understand anymore.

She's crying, and I suspect she doesn't know why, but I just hold her and let her cry until the sobs fade and she slowly releases me and takes a step back.

"Now look," she says, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, "I've ruined my makeup, and your father and I were just about to go out. We're meeting the Rothschilds at the club and he just won't get ready and I'm afraid we're going to be late."

I know there are no Rothschilds waiting to have dinner with Patricia and Andrew at the club, and if there ever were it was probably a decade ago.

"Do you think you could cancel, Mama?" I ask her softly. "It would mean so much to me just to spend time with you tonight, maybe curl up on the couch together and watch a movie."

The joy that washes over her face nearly breaks my heart.

"Of course we can cancel!" she says. "We can have dinner with Peggy and Herb any time. But how often do we get to spend an evening here at home with you!" She presses the palms of her hands on both sides of my face, and just stares at me, smiling. "You're so grown up now, Laura. You know you're the most important thing in the world to your father and me."

I stand there, keeping the smile on my face, but inside I'm trying to reconcile this with the story I've grown up with of Patricia and Andrew disowning my mother, turning her away when she was dying and needed their help. It just doesn't compute, and I know there's something here I'm missing, Some key fact I don't understand. Because I also can't imagine my father just making up a story like that, and causing me so much pain.

But tonight isn't the time to ask questions.

Patricia turns toward my grandfather, who is standing there with a gobsmacked look on his face. "Be a dear, Andy," she says, "and call the club and leave a message for Peggy and Herb that something came up and we have to reschedule. They're probably on the way already so we can't catch them at home, but I'm sure they won't mind."