Locked Down with Mr. Right

“Oh, wow they are almost like photographs!” Mom said.

“Caravaggio,” Dad commented casually.

“He was actually an influence,” Addie said.

“I see a bit of Boris Vallejo, too,” Mom added.

“Oh, yes,” Dad agreed.

“Can I see?” Duncan asked.

“No,” chorused in unison.

He sat down and pouted until at being left out of what he assumed to be the fun, a sensation with which I was well acquainted. Making sure no one was looking, I slipped a wrapped bubble gum, the grapevine I had been addicted to since I was Duncan’s age, and passed it to him.

Addie didn’t like him having a lot of sugar, but a little bit of vice was okay. It was all about moderation, despite how pithy Wilde was in saying he could resist anything, except temptation.

As for me, I didn’t want to resist any of the beautiful joys in life. I was so glad to be married to my beautiful wife, an adopted dad of her awesome son, and expecting a baby as well. My life had changed so much since I’d met Addie, but I didn’t regret any of it. I only hoped it would last us an eternity, because there was no other life I wanted.

Addie

It wasn’t easy to leave my babies. Brogan and I had only recently gotten aquatinted, and already I was leaving. The fact that it was for the honeymoon only helped a bit. She didn’t seem to be taking it very well either until Mercy showed Brogan her magic act, which reduced the newborn to a mass of giggles. It was pretty funny.

Leaving the kids in the capable hands of Mercy and their grandparents was going to work out okay, I thought. My best friend was already working to imprint herself as the cool aunt in the developing mind of my infant daughter. It was yet another thing Brogan and Duncan would have in common.

Clementine was sweet enough to take some time away from the buffet table to drive us to the airfield. Allison came along of course, riding shotgun alongside her lady love. They really were quite beautiful together.

The plane was waiting for us when we arrived. The car drove right up to the bottom of the stairs. It helped that Tobias owned the plane and paid the pilot’s salary. He had a pilot’s license himself just in case anything went wrong.

It wasn’t about worrying about what might happen. It was about reasonable risk management, one of the keys to stoicism that didn’t require that one repressed emotion. Rather, the main idea was basically to think of the worst thing that could possibly happen so you can prepare for it. It was the ultimate expression of ‘Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.’

That way, if the worst should come to pass, you were ready for it. Such as an abusive ex coming out of the woodwork after more than a decade and threatening to take you child away from you by using threats and blackmail.

I didn’t know where we were going. Tobias stayed predictably tight-lipped about his plans. What I did know for certain, despite the lack of information to go on, was that whatever he was plotting was going to be amazing.

The plane tipped in the general direction of Europe and was accompanied by the over four-hour flight time. My mind positively spun with possibilities. Were we going to London? Or to Florence? Paris maybe? It turned out that this last guess was the most accurate. The plane didn’t touch down in Paris exactly, but near the south where a lot of the resorts happened to be.

The sign was clear enough. Tobias Ford was written in clear, block capitals. The driver, a tall, handsome man with a dusky black coat and a gloved right hand, didn’t speak much English, which was not out of the ordinary, with tourists being mostly limited to the cities. Even those who could were somewhat resistant, which was understandable, given the history between England and France. Scotland and France teamed up at one point, a case of strange bedfellows known as The Auld Alliance.

It was a matter of great interest to the driver when he realized I was descended from one of the first breeders of Harris sheep, the source material for world famous Harris tweed.

My mouth actually dropped open at the grandiose 17th century building overlooking a pristine beach with sparking blue water. It was enough to make me want to go skinny dipping. I restrained myself for the moment.

“Shall we?” Tobias asked as the driver opened the door.

Hand in hand, we went to the empty resort, which I assumed Tobias also owned. Very little would have surprised me at that point.

Our footsteps echoed as we took our limited luggage through the massive front hall. Tobias insisted that we pack light, likely due to the lack of bellhops. The eyes of classic paintings watched us as we went. Like the ones in the dining room.