Chapter 11

Debbie looked at Robby. "What do you think she's going to do?"

"I don't know. She said she'd be right back. Probably nothing." he said.

"I don't' mean with HIM." said Debbie, rolling her eyes. "I meant about US!"

Robby looked at her miserably. "I don't know that either. Sounds like she doesn't like the idea of us doing ... things."

"That's not fair." said Debbie, her stubbornness coming out in her voice. "THEY do things."

"Deb, they do a whole lot more than WE do." said her brother.

"Yeah, but not THAT much more." she said, still wanting to argue.

"Deb, I never thought of actually ... DOING what they do." he said. "I mean I thought about it, but not like I was really going to try to get you to do that." he said. "Did YOU think about doing that? With me?"

Debbie felt another rush of emotion. "Not really." she said. "I like what we do just fine. I mean I've wondered what it might feel like. You know? But seeing them ... and knowing who they are ... I don't know how I feel any more."

"Well you better figure out how you feel, 'cause Mom said she wasn't going to be long." he said.

As if to punctuate his sentence they heard a car door slam outside. They waited and then tensed as their mother came through the door. She did, in fact, look unhappy.

"Sorry Mom." said Robby automatically.

"What, exactly, are you sorry for Robby?" asked Ramona. She was in full parent mode and wanted her children to articulate their errors in a way that would convince her that their breach of behavioral rules would not be repeated. It was something she'd done with them for years.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with Uncle Robert." he said sincerely.

"What?" asked Ramona, surprised by his statement.

"Well we kind of ruined your evening with him." said Robby. "And we're sorry. Aren't we?" he hinted to his sister, who was also looking at him strangely.

"I guess so." she said honestly.

The overwhelming nature of everything that had happened settled on Ramona like thickly falling snow. She had gone from being inflamed with passion for her brother's touch, to horrified and ashamed that her children had seen it, followed by absolute joy that her children still loved her. Upon the heels of that was her anger that they had lied to her all these years and her astonishment that they were having sex. She knew how she was supposed to feel about that, her own behavior not-withstanding - that was different ... wasn't it? - and she had planned on laying down the law to them when she came in the door. Piled on top of that was the warm safe feeling she had enjoyed for most of the evening as they talked, like a real family, which was upset by her brother's completely tactless invitation for her children to watch him ravish her. It didn't help that he had begged for forgiveness, claiming that he was kidding ... trying to shock the children further out of the opinion they had formed already about him.

It was all too much to think about ... to deal with. She felt a need to just get away from it all, but she knew she couldn't. It left her feeling a little shell shocked. She sat down heavily on the couch and stared at her children.

"Mom?" asked her daughter. "Are you OK?"

"No." said Ramona. "I don't think I am. This is all so confusing."

Debbie, unfettered by all but her own concerns about how this was going to affect herself and her brother, spoke with typical teenaged innocence.

"What's to be confused about?" she asked. "Uncle Robert came back, and you're glad. It's true that you have bad memories about the manor, but he's fixing it up really nice and everything, and we can go visit him whenever we want to. I mean what's changed all that much?"

Ramona gave a strangled sound that was half laugh and have groan.

"How I wish it were all that simple." she said.

"Isn't it?" asked Debbie.

"Well, let's see." said Ramona. She ticked things off on her fingers. "The house I hoped would fall down into a pile of rubble is being rebuilt so it will NEVER fall down. My brother, against whom I have NO defenses whatsoever, is bound and determined to father a child on me! Meanwhile my children are busy trying to make babies of their own ... together! People in town are going to just go NUTS when they find out that the meek little woman at the bank is, in actuality, Elizabeth Nettleton, the rich heiress of the Nettleton fortune. I'll probably be fired. My children are much too interested in money that I have, but don't want. Have I missed anything? Isn't there something else I've forgotten that can ruin our lives?"

Debbie looked startled as she realized that there were a lot of things she hadn't thought about.

Robby, perhaps because he was male, but not necessarily so, took a more pragmatic view of things. He too, ticked things off on his fingers.

"First of all, you don't ever have to go in the house next door again at all if you don't want to. Second, there are lots of ways to keep from having babies. If you don't want to have Uncle Robert's baby then just tell him so. Third, nobody in town has to know who you are now any more than they did last week. Everybody will know about Uncle Robert, but unless the two of you announce who you are, everybody in town will still think you're the ... what did you call it? ... nice little woman at the bank? And you have the wrong idea about Debbie and me. We fool around a little bit, because we love each other, but we're not trying to make babies. We haven't done that at all. And they can't fire you just because you're Elizabeth Nettleton. It's not against the law to be Elizabeth Nettleton. And if the money is that horrible, then I agree with you that we don't need it. Give it away or something. I don't care."

He crossed his arms over his chest.

Debbie had been nodding her head ... until he got to the part about giving away all the money. She wanted to complain about that, but she really felt her mother's distress, so she bit her lip. She could suggest some alternatives to that later.

Of it all, Ramona had zeroed in the most on his statement that he and Debbie "hadn't done that".

"You two haven't had sex?" she asked, tentatively.

Debbie thought to reassure her mother. "Well, we have sex, but not like you and Uncle Robert."

Ramona didn't know what that meant. "Let's just talk about that." she said, glad to have picked one topic that could be explored, and which might be less unsettling than she had previously thought.

So they did, disregarding the fact that it was getting later and later. Ramona wasn't tired, and she was fascinated by what she was hearing from her children. It sounded to her like a carbon copy of what she and Robert had done when they were young ... younger even than these two.

For their part, as the children realized she wasn't going to fly off in a rage every time they added something to their story, they felt much more comfortable telling it. They were amazed at how they got a sense of freedom out of giving up the secrets they had been so careful to keep. They had to include the things they had done in the house too ... the dressing up ... the fantasies they had acted out ... basically a description of the childhood in the manor that Ramona had been robbed of.

When they were finished, Ramona sighed. She had heard a love story. That much was plain. What her children had done with each other was clearly based on their love for each other. She understood that. That understanding was the core of her own personality, based on the same kind of love she had for Robert. She found herself unable to judge their actions harshly ... and she knew it.

She looked at her watch and groaned. "It's very late." she said. "Unlike you two, who are carefree and able to sleep in, I have to get up and go to work. Off to bed."

Debbie looked at her mother slyly. "If you used your money you wouldn't have to work any more at all." she said. "You could sleep in too, if you wanted to."

Ramona tried to glare at her daughter, but it just seemed to take too much energy. "I LIKE my job." she said shortly.

"We've seen how much you like your job." said Debbie innocently. "Several times. Like Robby said, sorry your job got messed up tonight." Her voice was so innocent that Ramona had to laugh.

"Go on. Off to bed. SEPARATE beds, my darlings." she said.

"We've never slept in the same bed." said Robby, trying to sound injured.

"Thank goodness for small miracles." said Ramona under her breath.

No one got to sleep easily in the Franklin household that night. Ramona thought about everything she'd heard her children telling her, and it brought out her love and affection for her brother, who was a few hundred yards away ... quite possibly naked ... quite possibly wasting perfectly good seed. That led her to think about what she'd said about him fathering a child on her, and she examined that from several different angles, trying to decide exactly how she felt about it while his prick WASN'T buried in her. She knew how she felt about it then.

Debbie lay in her bed, idly flicking her clitoris, also thinking about all that had happened. Even though her mother had specified separate beds, there had been no real heat in that order. Debbie clung to the hope that her mother could understand how she felt about Robby, not knowing her mother knew even better than she did herself. Debbie thought about what her mother had thought Debbie and Robby had been doing. She looked at that scenario from several different points of view, wondering again, what that might be like.

Robby also lay in his bed. The thing that kept coming back to his mind was his hand on his mother's naked shoulder, telling her that he loved her. He felt a distinctly un-son-like feeling in is groin for his mother ... the same kind of thing he felt for his sister when they played. He examined that from several angles, trying to figure out whether it was good, bad, or indifferent. He found his answer when he suddenly realized his hand was firmly wrapped around his stiff cock, and that he was stroking it.

Next door, in the Nettleton mansion, Robert Nettleton lay in his bed too, also thinking about what had happened that evening. Neither his niece or nephew had screamed hate at him. Their love for each other, something he too understood completely, was now out in the open. He knew it could not be quashed, no matter what his more conservative sister thought. He wasn't too upset about how Rami had berated him as a pervert for offering to let the children watch him love their mother. He had noticed that the points of her nipples had pressed firmly through her blouse. She might not know it, but that "perversion" had appealed to something in her. "Methinks thou dost protest too much." he said out loud to his sister. Then he thought about how much turmoil he had caused in his lovely sister's life, and examined that from several directions, trying to see if he had covered everything in his plan. He smiled.

He had big plans for his sister. She didn't know them all. It would take time, but he was sure he could bring his plan to fruition. Perhaps, at last, the Nettleton curse could be broken. Thinking about his plan made him stiff, and he considered masturbating. Instead he rolled over and tried to find sleep. He would not waste his seed.

The next morning Debbie had to pull her mother out of bed, lecturing her on how she had to get up ... had to go to work ... had to be an adult. Ramona acted surprisingly like a teenage girl, snarling at the disruption of her sleep, moaning that she didn't want to get up. She was horny too, and that made her temper unruly. Debbie ignored her, much as a good mother would ignore the unthinking barbs that a daughter often throws at the mother making her do something she doesn't want to do. It was a remarkable reversal of roles.

Once she had pushed her mother out the door, kissing her and telling her she loved her, Debbie turned to her brother's room.

Robby was still asleep, though how he could have slept through the ranting and railing of his mother she could not guess. With economy of movement Debbie stripped off her sleepwear and ran her hand under the covers to find how her brother was clothed.

Good. He had slept naked. She crawled into the bed, shivering at how warm it was. She cuddled up to her brother and closed her eyes, smelling his hair and the other scents that were ... Robby. Even that didn't wake him. With her arm draped over him, her hand only inches from his penis, she drifted into that place between sleep and wakefulness.

At work Ramona drank a cup of coffee and felt a little better. She really did love her job. She got along well with everyone at the bank. She had been more comfortable as an invisible teller, but even now the sheen of being involved with the Nettleton account had dimmed a little and people were back to business as usual.

There was a new pile of bills and invoices from contractors in her in box. She tackled them, using the nervous energy she had created by resisting her daughter. On one bill she noticed something familiar. She went into her files and pulled out another invoice. They were the same, though dated differently. Hoskins dry wall was trying to charge twice for the same work. It was a clumsy attempt at larceny. Only the dates had been changed. Even Robert's signature on the approval line was exactly the same. She frowned, her nervous energy being channeled into the heat of anger.

Renee Wright had known Ramona Franklin for more than six years. She was shocked as she walked by Ramona's new desk. Ramona's face was red and she was shouting into the phone. "And if you try this again I'll report you to the police!" snarled Ramona, slamming the phone down in the cradle. Renee looked at her friend like they'd never met.

"What was that all about?" she asked, leaning on the short partition in front of the desk.

"Hoskins drywall is trying to rip off my client!" said Ramona, reaching for her coffee cup, only to find it empty. She stood up to go get more.

"Well you go get 'em girl." said Renee. "We can't have our favorite client getting ripped off." She looked around like she was checking to see who could hear them. "Have you met him yet?" she asked.

"What?" said Ramona, distracted by her urge for caffeine. "Who?"

"Robert Nettleton, of course." said Renee. "I hear he's young and single. I don't know if he's good looking or not, but who cares with all that money he has?"

Ramona's radar lit up like a set of holiday lights. "I've talked to him." she said carefully. "He's pig headed." she added. She was horny and she blamed it on Robert Nettleton.

"I could get used to pig headed, if it came with fifty million dollars." Renee winked.

"You're married!" said Ramona.

"Too true." said Renee. "And I love Ted, but he doesn't have fifty million dollars."

Ramona was shocked. She hadn't thought about the fact that her brother would be considered "fair game" by conniving females in town. Even beyond town. It made her stomach hurt.

"You'd leave Ted? Just for the money?" gasped Ramona.

Renee smiled brilliantly. "No. I really do love Ted. But a girl can dream ... can't she? What about you? You've got the inside track here. Has he made any moves on you?" she whispered the last question.

Ramona felt herself blushing and tried in vain to stop it. "Of course not!" she said. Her blush continued because of the lie.

Renee laughed. "Well then, you'd better loosen up a little girl. He's the most eligible bachelor in the state - maybe in the five state region - and you're a good looking girl when you want to be. How about I take you shopping and see if we can come up with an outfit you can go on safari in?" She grinned from ear to ear.

The last thing Ramona thought she needed was a bunch of people poking into who Robert Nettleton was "seeing". No, now that she thought about it, the last thing she needed was a bunch of women trying to get her to introduce them to the most eligible bachelor in the five state region. No, now that she thought about it even more, the last thing she needed was to "get involved" with Robert Nettleton, and then for people to find out who she was.

"Thanks." she said, trying to defuse the situation. "But I'm happy with who I am. All that money comes with problems attached to it. You can be sure of that." she said firmly. "And I'm not about to become a dating service for that pig-headed man either, so spread that around. If anybody wants to meet him they can go to his drafty old house and knock on the door, just like anybody else."

"What does he look like?" asked Renee, not at all put off by Ramona's tirade.

"I don't know." lied Ramona. "I've only seen him once and that was just for a handshake in Peterson's office. I've talked to him on the phone a couple of times. All the face-to-face stuff is with Mister Smith."

Renee shuddered visibly. "That spooky old man?" she said. "He gives me the willies."

"Oh, he's nice enough, really. A little strange, but a nice man all things considered." said Ramona. "He's only going to be around for another few weeks."

"Well, you listen to me Ramona." said Renee. "Pig-headed or not, there's going to be a stampede by a whole bunch of women trying to get their claws into Mister Robert Nettleton. You think about what I said. You're a sweet woman Ramona, and you deserve some happiness. And you DO have the inside track. don't throw away first crack at something that could be a nice thing." Renee blew an air kiss and wandered off toward her own desk.

Ramona sat and thought about what had just happened. It was true. Women would flock to try to net a catch like Robert. It made her stomach roil to think about any other woman in Robert's arms.

She stood up, grabbed her briefcase viciously, and stalked out of the bank toward her car.

Robert was talking to an interior decorator about period wall paper and fabric choices when he saw Ramona's car speeding up the driveway. It was still gravel, and small stones spun from under her tires as the car swerved around a gradual corner. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see she was upset about something. He told the designer that expense was not an issue, and that he wanted authentic paper and cloth, and then excused himself to walk toward the car as it slid to a stop, scraping across the last five feet of gravel.

He opened the door of the car, noting that a plumber was standing and watching not far away.

"Mrs. Franklin!" he said loudly. "How good to see you again. Please, come inside and we can conduct whatever business seems to be so important that you spread my gravel all over the yard."

It was the kind of thing a foreman for a rich prick would say to an underling. The plumber turned around to get something out of his truck. He felt sorry for the poor woman in the car.

Ramona's funk was penetrated by the formal note in her brother's voice, and she got out of the car without saying anything. She let him lead her into the house, and up the stairs, into the bedroom. When he closed the door she flung herself into his arms, crying.

"Rami, my sweet, what's wrong?" he asked, stroking her back. There was nothing sexual in his touch; only the care and loving concern he felt for her.

"They're all going to be after you." she sobbed. "All those grasping women!"

Robert soothed her and took her to the love seat. He sat down beside her. '

"What are you talking about my darling?" he asked solicitously. "What grasping women?"

"You're the most eligible bachelor in five states!" cried Ramona. She broke into sobs again and leaned against Robert.

Slowly he worked out of her what had happened. She told him what Renee had said, and of her fears that some other woman would worm her way into his life, shutting her out.

Robert held her until she calmed, her crying finally fading to sniffles. There was a box of tissues on an end table and he offered her one.

"Love of my life." he started. She turned her tear-filled eyes to his. "Did you really think there could be any other woman for me than you? I am laid low that you would even THINK that some ... grasping woman ... could ever be welcome here."

"But it's true!" moaned Ramona. "They'll hound you. They won't leave you alone. You're rich! Oh, how I HATE that money!" She started to cry again.

Next door, at the Franklin household, the 'man' of the house smiled as his mind recognized that he was rising from slumber to wakefulness. That was a nice place. Good things happened in that place just before you actually woke up. Like now, for instance. He could feel a warm naked body cuddled up to his own. It felt so nice he didn't want to wake up at all. But he had to. His bladder was killing him. He opened his eyes, blinking at the sunlight coming through the windows. He must have slept late. Why could he still feel warm naked body against him?