Chapter 19

NINETEEN

Robbie had no idea what was going on, but against all odds he was enjoying every second of it.

"Shouldn't we have a fine champagne on hand if we're rushing off to save a family's estate from certain doom?" George asked as the limo made the final approach to Hawthorne House, using the same tone of voice he might use at his club to inquire whether The Times had been delivered yet.

"Every good, English estate house worth its salt has at least a dozen bottles readily available at any time," Benny replied with absolute certainty.

"I'm not sure that's true for Hawthorne House," Robbie apologized. "The house was converted into an arts center and school years ago."

"An arts center, you say?" George asked with a smile, then turned to Michael and said, "Forget champagne. They're likely to have some very fine marijuana on the premises."

Beside Robbie, Toby snorted into laughter, tipping his head back and making the most joyful sound. When Robbie stared at him, eyes wide, Toby stopped laughing, blinked, and asked, "Well? Do you have a stash of weed at Hawthorne House?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with a reply," Robbie said, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead as Toby laughed at him. Knowing his dad, there was probably a secret marijuana greenhouse on the property somewhere.

All thoughts of illegal substances fell to the wayside as the limo pulled around to Hawthorne House's front door, drawing a huge amount of startled attention from the students and other community members on their way to and from classes, and Robbie spotted Charles Duckworth's BMW in the parking lot.

"He's already here," he told Toby with a dark scowl, climbing out of the limo as soon as it had stopped.

"Who, Duckworth?" Toby asked, following him. He'd obviously seen the car as well, but he seemed more energized than worried by it. "Let him try whatever he wants, we've got the cavalry with us."

He spoke with confidence, but Robbie turned to watch five elderly queer gentlemen trying to exit the limo with varying degrees of grace or difficulty.

"Blast it, I've grown unused to pushing myself up from a low position," Benny said as he rocked a few times to gain the momentum to stand from the car.

"What, not used to being on your knees anymore?" George asked, then laughed at his own joke to the point where he sent himself into a coughing fit.

Freddy, who Robbie had yet to hear say a word, frowned and shook his head at George, then leaned in to help Benny the rest of the way out of the car.

It was all completely mad, but after seeing The Chameleon Club and hearing the confidence in Heath Manfred's introductions earlier, Robbie clung onto the belief that the gentlemen he ended up shuffling inside the house like he would guide and direct some of his younger primary school students might be able to help them.

The sense that everything was some sort of comedic adventure stopped immediately when Robbie spotted his dad arguing with Charles Duckworth through one of the office's windows.

"Looks like the endgame has already started," he murmured to Toby, gesturing for him to bring the older gentlemen to the office.

"How dare they start without us?" Toby said with mock offense.

Robbie grinned at him. He couldn't help but think that Toby would fit right in with the other gentlemen who followed after them, bright looks of invigoration on their faces, in about sixty years or so.

That thought was fleeting, and when he reached the office door, which was closed for a change, and opened it, he was hit with a blast of shouting.

"And if you think we would ever capitulate to threats like this, then you have no idea who you're dealing with," Dad was shouting at Duckworth while Rebecca and Early stood off to one side, looking panicked.

" I have no idea who I'm dealing with?" Duckworth laughed incredulously. "You're the delusional hippie here. You have no idea what Willoughby Entertainment is capable of. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Dad looked like he was about to reply when he noticed the sudden crowd in the office and lost his train of thought. "What's going on here?" he asked.

Toby stepped forward immediately. "You don't need to sign any sort of deal with Willougby Entertainment, no matter what he's telling you," he said.

Duckworth shifted to grimace at Toby, like he'd brought a bad smell into the room with him. "What drivel are you spouting now?" he asked. "You don't have the first idea what's going on here."

"I do," Toby said, standing nearly directly in front of Duckworth. "You're trying to convince good people that they have no choice but to sell out to you or doom will descend on them."

Duckworth snorted a laugh. "What sort of dramatic thrillers have you been watching?" he asked, his lip curling a bit. "If you haven't figured out by now that real life is not a film, then you're even more of an imbecile than I thought."

Toby didn't flinch. He narrowed his eyes and said, "Let me guess. You've pulled a lot of strings to make the family feel as though they have no choice, and now you've low-balled the offer from before."

"He's lowered it to less than a hundred and seventy-five million," Dad spoke up, clearly furious about the turn.

Robbie was horrified, but not at all surprised. He was more than a little impressed that Toby had anticipated the move.

"This estate isn't worth even half that much," Duckworth persisted, huffing and jerking his arms, like he was backed into a corner and getting ready to defend himself. He glanced at the older gentlemen, who all seemed extraordinarily interested in what was going on, then promptly ignored them as he went on with, "The work that needs to go into it to make it worth anything at all is astounding."

"Then why pursue it in the first place?" Robbie argued. "If it's so much work, why not give up your deal and go find another patch of land to ravage?"

Duckworth stared furiously at him, but only for a moment. Once that moment had passed, he turned his attention back to Dad.

"This is your last chance," he said. "Sign the sale papers or by next week, you won't have a financial leg to stand on to keep this place operational."

"Not true," Toby cut in, a cool smile making him look like the king of the world. "Hawthorne House has abundant resources and dozens of ways to generate income."

"Ridiculous," Duckworth dismissed him.

Toby barely registered the slight as he went on with, "Silver Productions is ready to sign a deal with Hawthorne House immediately. I'm sure they'll have representatives out here to hash out a shooting schedule and to develop ideas for the future as soon as the dust settles on the contract."

Duckworth did a double-take, staring at Toby like a disobedient dog who had gotten loose in the lounge and was tracking mud everywhere. "And what do you know about any of this? You've just been sacked from the only reputable company that would hire you."

Fury shot through Robbie, and he clenched his fists. The only way Duckworth would know that already was if he'd had a hand in it. Of course, it's what they'd expected all along, but having it confirmed was another thing entirely.

"Is there no end to your vengeance?" he demanded. "Why is this deal so important that you would try to ruin a man's career on top of destroying a family's legacy? If its money you want so badly, why don't you find yourself another deal to broker?"

"It's because his job is on the line," Dad spoke up in a growl, eyes narrowed at Duckworth. Robbie and Toby both flinched to stare at him. "I found out a couple hours ago, shortly after the two of you left."

"Found out what?" Toby asked.

Without taking his piercing stare off of Duckworth, Dad said, "I called Willoughby Entertainment directly to discuss the matter. It took a little finagling, but I was finally able to speak to this wanker's superior."

Duckworth gulped so hard he started coughing. His face went red and splotchy, and through his coughing he said, "You didn't."

"I did," Dad said. "Turns out he's on the spot after the last three deals he attempted to broker fell through. Not only that, I heard a delicious little bit of gossip about someone's home on the verge of foreclosure due to lack of payments."

"Oh, very poetic," Benny said, resting on his cane. "He's attempted to steal one person's house so that he might save his own."

The comment from the chorus snagged everyone's attention for a moment. Dad in particular gaped at Benny, eyes wide, then broke into a smile.

"Benny Hollis?" he said looking as if the sun had burst through the clouds. "As I live and breathe."

"Hello there, young Robert," Benny greeted him in a salacious voice, wiggling his eyebrows. "Long time no see."

"I should say," Dad laughed, suddenly looking about forty years younger and, of all things, sheepish.

"Could we save the naughty reunions for later?" Robbie cut through the interaction that, frankly, he didn't want any part of. He turned back to Duckworth. "Is it true that desperation is behind all of this?"

"Absolutely not," Duckworth growled. His agitated stance and red face told a different story. "This is about business, not sentimentality. You have no choice but to sell out to Willoughby Entertainment."

"The Hawthorne family has a wealth of choices," Toby said. "They most definitely do not need you and this predatory deal."

"Why?" Duckworth snapped. "Because you've engineered some sort of pie in the sky filming deal for them?" He laughed. "Those deals take ages to work out. The family won't see a cent from Silver Productions for months yet. How is that supposed to help them satisfy the loans that were just called in or to meet daily expenses?"

Robbie's stomach sank at the mention of loans plural.

"Another one was called in just after lunch," Dad told him, seeing the question in his eyes.

"I still don't think it's legal," Rebecca spoke up from the side, coming in to join the conversation. "I've been on the phone with both banks, trying to get through to someone at the top. Westfield Bank is already looking into the chain of events that led to the loan being called in as due."

"They won't find anything," Duckworth snapped, a little too fast for confidence.

It made Robbie wonder just how close Duckworth's carefully laid trap was to closing on him instead of the family.

"Is that the problem?" George spoke up from the side, shifting the focus of the conversation again. "Is this about needing money to keep the old place afloat?"

"Robert, are you in need of a cash infusion?" Benny asked, his lopsided grin and the twinkle in his eyes far too suggestive for Robbie's liking.

"Well, er, yes," Dad said, peeking at his children, as if he didn't want them to know too much about his past. "It's a long story."

"We've heard it already," George said, nodding to Robbie and Toby. "These delightful young people explained everything over lunch at the club."

"Lunch at the club?" Duckworth huffed, looking like he was fighting to regain his superiority, but failing. "What is this, some sort of BBC costume drama?"

He was ignored as George asked, "How much do you need?"

"I beg your pardon?" Robbie asked in return.

"Obviously, Hawthorne House is in need of donations at the moment," George told him.

"I didn't bring my checkbook with me," Michael spoke up, patting the pockets of his velvet jacket, as if the checkbook in question might suddenly appear, "but these things are all done online these days, aren't they?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Duckworth demanded, looking more alarmed than ever. "Who are these people?" He seemed to suddenly notice the older gentlemen.

"These are friends we've just met at The Chameleon Club," Toby announced with a smile.

"The Chameleon Club?" Early asked from where he stood against the far wall, watching everything like it was the latest reality show.

"You've heard of it?" Robbie asked.

Early nodded. "Who hasn't heard of The Brotherhood?"

Robbie felt a little foolish that he hadn't, until today.

"I never dreamed of asking The Brotherhood for help," Dad said, stroking his beard and looking a bit dazed. "It wouldn't have occurred to me."

"Well, it should have," Benny said. "So tell us, how much do you need?"

"No!" Duckworth interrupted. "This is ludicrous. I won't let a gaggle of old ganders walk in and put a plaster over the financial blood this place is leaking. You have to sell to Willoughby Entertainment."

"No, they don't," Toby said, his smile making it clear he knew they'd won. "The only thing that has to happen here is that you, Duckie, need to leave. Something tells me you're no longer welcome on the Hawthorne family's property."

"I will not be dictated to by an unemployed piece of street trash," Duckworth bellowed. "You're the one who should leave their property."

"On the contrary," Dad said. "Mr. Tillman is now employed by Hawthorne House." He delivered the news with enough self-satisfaction that Robbie found himself smiling despite the tension of the moment.

"He is not," Duckworth spat, glancing between Toby and Dad. "You're lying to me."

"I am not," Dad said.

"Hired as what?" Duckworth threw his arm out toward Toby. "Footman? Hall boy?"

"We haven't given him a title yet," Dad said, "but something along the lines of Development Manager would work nicely."

"We trust Toby to help Hawthorne House find new and exciting ways to expand our offerings and maximize our involvement with the community," Robbie said, stepping closer to Toby and resting his hand on the small of Toby's back.

If Duckworth didn't see that possessive gesture for what it was, a signal that Toby was part of the family, that he was loved and protected by them, then he was a colossal fool.

"You've lost, Duckie," Toby said, still smiling like he was having the best day of his life.

"You wouldn't dare do this to me," Duckworth said, his tone threatening and his entire body tense. "I made you what you are."

"I made myself," Toby said. "You just showed me one way to play the game. I've decided that I don't like your way very much. You can cheat and pull strings and make this entire industry into a boys' club, but something tells me you won't have a support network to catch you when you fall, like I had. Integrity still means something."

"It does indeed," Dad said, stepping forward a bit. "And now I'm asking you to leave Hawthorne House, and take your miserable contracts and your cheap threats with you. We will do just fine without you or Willoughby Entertainment."

"You can't do this," Duckworth said, quivering on his spot for a moment before starting for the office door. "You will regret this in every way. I have far more power than you think. You've made yourself an enemy today. I won't soon forget this."

The more Duckworth threatened them as he left the office, the more comical everything he said felt. Robbie doubted that he could do anything at all against the family now. He thought there was a fair chance that Duckworth wouldn't have a job by the end of the day.

"Well, now that that's settled," Benny said, turning to Dad with a smile once more. "In all seriousness, Robert, how much do you need?"

"You don't need to put yourselves out for our sake," Dad said.

"Dad," Rebecca slipped into the space vacated by Duckworth, staring incredulously at him. "Take the money. If these gentlemen want to help, then let them help."

"Listen to the young woman," George said. "She seems to be a clever one."

"This is my daughter, Rebecca," Dad introduced her. He slid an arm around her waist to hug her from the side, but to Robbie's eyes, it looked like he was the one who needed the support.

After everything they'd all just been through, he didn't blame his dad at all.

"So does this really mean we're out of the woods?" he asked, glancing from his dad to Benny and the others, then finally looking to Toby. "Are we going to be okay?"

Toby smiled broadly and reached for Robbie's hand. "Yeah, sweetheart. We're going to be okay."