Chapter 55

10:45 p.m. Friday

"We should probably stop at the hotel and let me grab my car," Andy pointed out when he'd explained to Regan that his mother wanted him at the hotel overnight.

"You can just drive my car home tonight," she told him.

"Then you three won't have a way to get around tomorrow," Andy noted.

"We have other cars there," Regan said with a shrug.

Of course you do, Andy thought.

"In fact, if you want, we can look at them tonight and see if there is something you'd prefer to drive tomorrow night," Regan continued, oblivious to the look that had crossed Andy's features.

"Whatever you want to drive is fine," Andy told her in a tight voice. "They're your cars."

"They're Mom and Dad's," Regan said. "It's not like we have 50 of them or anything. Dad has his car; Mom has hers; I have this one and there is another they use when they go fancy places. It's a Rolls Royce but we'd need a driver for it. Or they use a driver. We'd have taken it last week if it was only us. But with Chris and Ruth, it would have been too tight in the back. Well, I probably could have sat on your lap and I wouldn't have minded in the least. The way things turned out, Ruth probably would have been willing to sit on Chris's lap – or other things."

"Is it OK if you just drive one of our cars home?" Regan asked as they approached the freeway ramp to her house.

"It'll give me a chance to wash and wax it in the morning," Andy said, giving in to the inevitable.

"We have someone who does that," Regan answered.

Of course you do, Andy thought again as he closed his eyes. This time, Regan caught the look.

"Andy, like it or not, Evan has three or four cars at his manor," she said defensively. "He has a driver and that driver washes his cars for him and Anne. He has a housekeeper and a cook. He employs a personal assistant and Anne probably does, too. You told me that someone answered the phone the first time you called. At least with me, you don't have to ask the housekeeper to come get me!"

"I know," Andy said. "It's a bit troubling on that front, too."

"Yet you seem to think of them as normal," Regan pointed out. "They have nothing different than my family and we're the odd ones. That doesn't make sense to me."

"You're right," he agreed. "It really doesn't make sense to me either. Evan and I haven't really discussed money. He must be loaded though. He gave Mom a check for a quarter of a million dollars as back child support on Thursday."

"She must have made him a hell of a deal," Regan interrupted. "Mom did a preliminary financial workup on him. He has a pretty nice fortune."

"It's the first payment of three," Andy said with a sigh. "He said it's because it has to come out of his personal funds and he doesn't want investors to worry. I think he's trying to let Mom get used to being wealthy before she becomes 'super wealthy.'"

"And you," Regan said. "Camille isn't just going to put that money under her mattress. She's going to give it to you."

"I don't want it," Andy told her.

"You'll need some of it," Regan countered. "You heard Paul: College is expensive. He wasn't talking about the tuition and fees. He was talking about how much you'll have to pay for a burger if you get stuck in a study session and miss supper. He's talking about the markup on items in the bookstore. You're going to need things you've never owned before. You'll need some sort of tablet. Those cost a few hundred bucks. You'll need notebooks and exam sheets and pens and a bunch of other things. He said his textbooks cost almost a thousand last semester."

"I know," Andy grumbled. He felt his phone shake in his hand and saw Evan's number. That put an end to the discussion – even though Regan was correct on every point. She wasn't trying to tell him anything he hadn't considered during the hectic week before.

As Andy talked to Evan, Regan decided that there was no use in trying to beat a dead horse. Andy would have to come to understand the reality on his own. Nothing she could say or do would push him to accept something he obviously wasn't ready to accept.

"Can I talk to Evan, please?" Regan asked when Andy's side of the conversation dwindled.

"Not while you're driving," Andy said. "Mom would crucify you both – you for doing it and Evan for allowing it."

"Just activate the Bluetooth feature," Regan said. "It will pick it up automatically."

Andy looked at her and shook his head. He hadn't read that portion of the manual because he was car was made years before Bluetooth had been considered.

"Fine," Regan said, signaling that she was pulling to the side of the freeway. The others behind her were confused but no more than Andy.

"You drive," she said when she came to a stop.

"Crap," Andy muttered but he dutifully got out of the passenger side – because Regan had not wasted any time in vacating the driver's side. She held out her hand for her phone when their paths crossed behind the car and she kissed his cheek when he handed it to her.

"What's going on?" Paul yelled from the window of his car. "Is everything OK?"

"I guess I'm going to drive the rest of the way," Andy replied with a shrug. "Regan wants to use the phone."

Andy saw Paul give Elizabeth a look that told her that Andy and Regan were both insane. Elizabeth nodded her agreement. Regan was already talking by the time Andy folded himself into the front seat. He was only five inches taller than Regan but all five inches appeared to be in his legs. It took him a minute to adjust the seat and the mirrors. He figured it would serve Regan right to have to fix them the next time she drove.

"I wanted to apologize for how we acted," Regan said. "We all completely misjudged the expectations and I apologize. The stories that your mother told were fascinating and, well, I'm used to dealing with people in more formal settings. I didn't handle it well and I'm worried that you and your mother have the wrong impression of me."

"We understood that it was awkward," Evan lied. "To be frank, my mother was tired and she tends to ramble when she needs rest. I'm hoping a full night in a bed will lead to a better show tomorrow."

"I promise to stop viewing you as I was taught to view others," Regan said. "My friend Joy is probably still going to press your mother for stories. I've learned that she is quite a student of English culture. Her father is looking for a Mini Cooper for her, in fact. I didn't know that about her. I thought she believed as I did – that you would prefer to talk about yourself than listen to others. That is the usual way with the people I've come in contact with through my family."

Evan found himself chuckling. He could imagine that Regan was being completely honest in her assessment.

"Yes, I would think that is the status quo for those you've met," Evan agreed. "I tend to find that with the people I must visit and I cannot imagine the traits are different here. Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me. I will confess that I was a bit concerned. I've met a large number of people that place more importance on titles and wealth than they do on the sort of person is on the inside."

"That's not me," Regan said. "I like your son because of who he is, not for what he might someday be or what he might someday be called. I wanted to reassure you of that fact. Please apologize to your mother for us. We'll apologize in person tomorrow."

Regan was so distracted by the call that she didn't realize they were at her house until Andy pulled to a stop at the gate.

"We're at my house," she said. "Thank you again, Evan. I'm glad we could talk."

"Me, too," Evan answered. "Tell Andy to drive safely tonight."

"I will," Regan promised as she looked over at her boyfriend. "He means a lot to me."

Camille stood in her bra and panties as she looked through her bags for something nice to wear downstairs. The skirts and slacks she had packed were dirty because she'd worn them to work during the week. The only thing she could find that looked halfway dressy was a green tube dress that she had planned to see if Regan might want. It was much too short and too tight for a 38-year-old woman.

She had thought it was pretty when she picked it up on sale but had changed her mind when she got home.

"Shit," she said as she put it on the bed and looked at it. She pulled out the side pocket of her bag and came away disappointed again. She had no strapless bras and no panties that wouldn't be obvious beneath the tight material. She pulled the tags off the dress and held it up in front of her. She'd owned it for two years and had worn it one time – for about five minutes the night she bought it. Well, she decided, tonight would be twice.

She unclasped her bra and freed her 36B breasts. They sagged slightly, partly from age and partly because she had breastfed Andy as a baby. Her stomach was flat but showed a few stretch marks from the pregnancy. According to a construction worker, she had a "fine ass." Just to be sure, she turned to look over her shoulder at it in the mirror. White cotton panties were not sexy, she decided, despite the fact that they were bikini cut.

She slid them down her thighs and tossed them into the pile of laundry in the corner. Maybe she would take some of the money to upgrade her underwear collection, she thought. She stepped into the dress and tugged it upward. The hem came to rest at her upper thighs once she pulled the material to cover her boobs. She tried to tug the hem lower but her left breast popped out.

"Oops," she giggled. "Well, let's see how horrible this looks."

She opened the bathroom door so the full-length mirror on the inside reflected in the one on the bedroom door. It created a panoramic view, allowing her to see the front and back of her outfit at the same time.

"Jesus," she muttered. "I'm a hot MILF tonight."

She turned to the side to make sure that she didn't have a gut. The material was unforgiving and any bulge would be amplified. The only places Camille stuck out were the places she was designed to stick out. Her bust jutted forward proudly, held upward by the material.

"I do have a 'fine ass, '" she remarked to herself as she checked it out in the mirror. The only thing that bothered her was the fact that the soft material had made her nipples erect. "Well, at least they're not pointing at the floor."

She found a pair of white low-heeled sandals and slipped them on her feet. Evan's tongue almost hit the floor when Camille reappeared in the living area.

"Dear God in heaven," he said.

"It's all I had clean," Camille said.

"It looks smashing," Evan declared. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to put on a jacket and tie in order to be seen with you."

"You look fine," Camille told him. "If you put on a tie, people are going to think I'm a hooker you hired for the evening."

"Not a chance," Evan said, shaking his head. "You look amazing. I will bet you haven't gained a gram since you were in college."

"I've put on five or 10 pounds," Camille said.

"They certainly were in all the right places," Evan said. "If you will give me five minutes, I'll change and we'll go."

"I really think you look just fine," Camille told him.

"I also need to find my stun gun so I can keep the jackals away from my date," Evan told her with a smile.

"Is this a date?" Camille asked, emboldened by the wine she'd consumed.

"If you wish it to be," Evan replied. "If you don't, then it isn't. I am going to enjoy a drink and a discussion with a beautiful woman. If you wish to qualify it further, I'll leave it to you to decide."

Camille watched him as he headed down the hall. Andy wouldn't be home for hours and she had enjoyed their Saturday activities quite a lot. She waited for Evan to have time to get undressed and then walked into his room, pulling the material down so her breasts were bare.

"Let's just stay in tonight," she proposed with a wry smile. Evan stood in only his boxer shorts and socks but he he'd turned when the door had opened. He found he couldn't breathe.

"Are you certain?" Evan asked when he could speak.

Camille didn't answer verbally. She simply pushed the dress downward until it pooled at her feet and kicked off her sandals. She did her best to look seductive as she crawled onto his bed and then motioned with a finger for him to join her.

It was one invitation Evan had no intention of turning down.

Camille pulled him to her and kissed him in a way that she hadn't kissed him in almost 20 years. Evan's hands went to her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones as their tongues dueled. Camille's hands were busy trying to free Evan from his boxers. She found it too difficult to concentrate and contented herself with the feelings that Evan was invoking.

This was different than Saturday night. That had been two lonely people having sex with someone they were attracted to. This was the start of what came next.

Elizabeth and Paul viewed Regan's home much as Chris and Andy had upon their first arrival – with open-mouthed awe. Both knew such homes existed in the area but neither had viewed one from close up.