Rachel From the Edge Pt. 14

Rachel From the Edge Pt. 14

by G. Lawrence

Following the attack, Rachel confronts the Marburys

Everything that has happened since the death of Daniel Benson comes to a head at the Marbury Christmas party. And those who think they understand the situation clearly don't understand Rachel. All characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

Chapter Seventeen

AUNT HATTIE

Christmas morning dawned cloudy. Family members, mostly older but a few of Rory's age, were assembling at Marbury House. A tall Christmas tree was fully lit in the grand parlor. The busy staff made coffee and breakfast. Though a gathering place for many, it was still intimate enough to feel homey, even with eighteen guests.

"Don't worry, dear. Your makeup is fine," Pamela said, coaxing Rachel into the car.

They were attired in their Christmas best. The men wore casual blue suits and red ties. The women had designer outfits with colorful scarves. Rachel was wearing a dark red skater with a long skirt, even though the jacket was a little too tight for comfort. She wasn't wearing a bra due to her taped ribs.

"Are you sure?" Rachel said. "I wish the eye hadn't turned black. I hate it when that happens."

"No one is going to make fun of you," Rory insisted, though she saw the makeup was leaving many questions.

Rachel, John and Oliver had gotten in the back seat, ready for the short drive down the hill, when Rory pulled Pamela aside.

"Mom, this is bad. Look," Rory said, showing her phone. "The press learned Billy attacked Rach. It's all over the news. Rich boy escapes justice after raping father's sex slave."

"That's not how I wanted them to phrase it," Pamela said.

"You released the story?"

"A version of it. Not that version."

"Why? Mom, why would you do that?"

Pamela leaned over to the limo driver. "My daughter and I are going to walk. We'll meet you there. John, run interference for me."

"Interference from what?" John asked.

The limo pulled away before Pamela answered. If she was going to answer. They started walking down the road, careful to avoid ice patches.

"The news was going to come out," Pamela explained, holding on to Rory's elbow. "And that makeup isn't fooling anyone. It's better to confront the situation now. Get it out in the open."

"I don't see how that helps Rachel. Everyone will be staring at her. Aunt Elly might go after her for embarrassing the family."

"She probably will. The old biddy has a mean streak in her."

"Rachel will be humiliated. In front of the whole family."

"I've asked Rachel to let me adopt her. She won't say yes unless she thinks she'll be accepted. And the family will only accept her if they see her. The real Rachel, not the media creation. Brave and afraid. Shy and bold. Trusting and suspicious. Maybe a little crazy."

"This is for you then, not her? How could you put Rach in such a terrible spot? Making her a victim all over again."

"Do you know why Rachel doesn't want to be seen as a victim?" Pamela said, growing angry. "It's because she isn't. Rachel is a hero. She is a goddamn hero, and our family deserves to know that."

They reached Marbury House, shaking snow off on the porch before entering. Most of the family were gathering in the fancy parlor where a large fire burned in the grand marble fireplace. The tall Christmas tree was covered in lights, garlands, ornaments, and popcorn strings. John had taken Rachel into the kitchen until Pamela arrived, having seen the news reports. Oliver sat with Aunt Hattie in the parlor, presumably making explanations. Rory rushed to Rachel's side.

"You heard? I'm so sorry," Rory said, finding her inspecting the large pantry. "If you want to leave, we can get out of here."

"They have three kinds of sugar," Rachel said, poking among the shelves. "Rock salt. Kentucky brown flour. Vanilla beans. Home churned butter. With bananas and fresh eggs, I could make banana bread. I haven't made banana bread in a long time."

"We have bananas at home. Do you want to stay here?"

"That's not up to me."

"Who is it up to?"

"Your mother. This is her game."

"You don't have to play her game. You don't have to play anyone's game," Rory insisted.

"Games have their place," Rachel responded.

"Can you deal? What about the numbers? Your medication? Rach, I'm worried about you."

"I know. Thank you so much for being my friend. Is there something I can use to remove this makeup?"

"I'll get cleansers," Rory said, going to the bathroom.

John was watching from the kitchen table. He waved Rachel over, pouring her a cup of tea, but couldn't get her to sit down.

"Should I ask?" he said.

"I know you don't want Pam to adopt me. Billy sure doesn't want it. None of the people in that room will want it. But I can't be the one who says no to your mother. I'm not strong enough. She needs to see how impossible it is for herself."

"It's not that I don't want her to adopt you. It just came as a surprise."

"Your mother is going to be very disappointed. You need to be kind to her."

"Did you want to be adopted?"

Rachel stirred her tea, staring at the swirling waves in her cup. She was alternately far away and intensely present.

"I thought so," Rachel softly replied.

Rory returned with the facial wipes, but Rachel wasn't ready to use them. They went into the parlor, stopping the conversation. All eyes turned in their direction. Rachel knew some of their names, others she only knew from Ruth's stories.

No formal introductions were made. John led Rachel to a long sofa, but she chose a red wool blanket on the floor near the tree instead. Talking resumed, largely in hushed tones. Pamela was sitting on a couch across the room with her cousins Greenly and Tricia, both close to her in age. Rory sat on the sofa behind Rachel, looking anxious. Rachel noticed no children had been invited.

Rory's cousins, Darlene and Bobby Marbury, rushed over to take seats next to her. Soon half a dozen of the younger cousins were joining them, the room dividing along generational lines.

"Bobby, you made it out of the harbor," Rory said, shifting to make room. "No sharks?"

"No sharks. But there was a feisty cousin protecting her friend," Bobby replied, returning her grin. He seemed like a pleasant young man, tall and gangly, with bushy brown hair and freckles.

"Bobby is sorry about that remark he made at the funeral. We're here for you, Ro," Darlene said, taking Rory's hand. Like her older cousin Sheila, Darlene was lithe and sprightly, with curly black hair and a turned-up nose.

"Rachel, too?" Rory asked.

"Rachel, too," Bobby replied. "I didn't know her then, and I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?"

"You should ask Rachel."

"Miss Montgomery? Rachel?" Bobby said, reaching down to touch her shoulder.

Rachel glanced up from her spot on the floor, glad to see Rory's cousins sitting with her.

"I'm sorry about what I said," Bobby apologized.

Rachel offered a shy smile and gently touched his hand before returning her attention to the Christmas tree.

"She's nice, isn't she?" Darlene whispered.

"Yes, she is," Rory said, pulling her cousins closer.

The room was feeling the tension. Rory noticed Rachel examining the popcorn strands with a thoughtful forefinger.

"Something interesting?" Rory asked.

"Popcorn could be used to explain String Theory, but it wouldn't be accurate," Rachel replied.

William arrived. Alone. It seemed Libby Levenson had decided to find a new skating partner. He looked at the family sheepishly, finding a large oak chair in the far corner without saying anything. Rachel thought him brave to show up. Oliver went to sit with him, though not in friendship. John stood nearby, watching from the door.

After serving drinks, the staff suddenly disappeared. White wine was popular among the seniors. Manhattans and Old Fashions among the younger. Rory passed Rachel a decanter of Maker's Mark and she poured a splash into her tea. Rory noticed she was clutching the cup too hard.

"Ease up, honey. You're doing fine," Rory whispered. But Rachel wasn't listening. Rory saw she was scanning the room.

For twenty minutes, there was polite talk about ski slopes, faithless employees, stock options, and Uncle Steve's gallbladder operation. Rachel looked at the ornaments, wondering if family members decorated the tree or hired a professional. She and Daniel had a tree one year. A small one. Their only Christmas together.

Aunt Hattie was the reigning monarch, looking about eighty years old, stout, with puffy cheeks and wearing a silver silk turban over her stringy gray hair. She had the look of an aristocrat. Aunt Elly and Uncle Sherbet, both sharing the family resemblance, were more vocal. Rachel wasn't sure if Sherbet was his real name, or a nickname, but it fit him. She thought his bald pink head looked scooped and sugary. He had a bulbous red nose.

"Well, Billy, what have you been up to? How was jail?" Aunt Elly asked, finally saying what everyone was thinking.

"I should still be there," William said, rubbing the bandaged wound on his forehead.

"What did the temptress say to you?" Sherbet asked.

"She said William, please stop," William said, standing up and shaking Oliver off. "She said please, please stop. Please don't do this. Right until I smacked her in the mouth. That's what she said, you dried-up piece of shit."

He looked across the room at Rachel. Rachel thought he would have apologized if he knew how. Oliver pulled him back in the chair.

"This has caused great embarrassment for our family," Aunt Elly complained.

"We mean Miss Montgomery no ill will," Aunt May said. "But the circumstances are quite inappropriate."

"Why is she even here?" Stacy-Jean asked, one of the older cousins with streaky silver hair. "Don't misunderstand, I'm not saying she should leave. I just don't understand why she's here."

"She was Daddy's fiancée," Rory said.

"Danny had a thousand women. Don't know what makes this one special," Sherbet said.

All eyes turned to Pamela. "Rachel is my dear friend. She was engaged to Daniel. She's made sacrifices for our family."

"Sacrifices? Humiliating us in the press? Getting Billy arrested?" Elly accused. "A poor white trash girl inheriting millions that belonged to Daniel's children? Those don't sound like sacrifices to me."

"That is so unfair," Rory said, jumping up. Rachel pulled her back.

"It's okay, Ro. They need to express themselves," Rachel said.

"Do you have anything to say?" Elly asked.

"About what?" Rachel replied.

"Don't be coy. You know what I mean," Elly insisted.

"It's not my place," Rachel softly replied, declining to make eye contact.

"I think it is," Elly said.

"Don't press her," Greenly said, a distinguished gray-haired gentleman about Pamela's age. By the exchanged glances, they appeared close. Cousins and friends. Rachel remembered that Greenly was John's middle name.

"That's not an answer," Sherbet said.

"Does it matter?" Rachel replied.

"Yes, it matters," Elly answered.

"When friends ask us about Billy's arrest, and your shameful part in it, what are we supposed to say?" Aunt May asked.

"How do we explain your unseemly association with our family?" Stacy-Jean said.

Rachel noticed Aunt Hattie being watchful, letting others do the talking. Rather than respond, she tasted the whiskey-laced tea again and played with the Christmas tree ornaments. Rory saw her tear off a bit of tinsel and wrap it around her empty ring finger.

"Well?" Sherbet said.

"Well, what?" Rachel answered.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Sherbet persisted.

"Sir, it's better that I don't say. Let's talk about something else."

"We'll talk about this," Elly demanded.

"Everyone has a right to know your part in this disgrace," Aunt May agreed.

Rachel looked over at Pamela, who was gripping Greenly's hand. She looked worried. Second thoughts?

"We don't need to do this," Rachel said, speaking only to Pamela.

Pamela straightened her shoulders, head up. The defiant gambler. Rachel sighed, took a sip of the Maker's Mark straight from the decanter, and handed the bottle to Rory.

"I'm sorry about this," Rachel whispered, unbuttoning the tight jacket. Her white blouse showed underneath.

Rory had seen that look before, when Rachel had waterboarded her little brother, and when she tore into the Dumbass Duo. Rachel was engaged. Defiant. And maybe a little crazy.

"You get them, Rachy," Rory urged.

Rachel sat with her back to the Christmas tree, looking toward the long couches holding the most prominent of the seniors.

"Uncle Sherbet, it's hard to know what to say," Rachel replied. "Your head is so far up your ass, it must be difficult for you to hear anything."

"Young lady! Insults will get you nowhere!" Aunt Hattie rebuked, finally speaking up.

"Oh, I don't know. They seem to be working fine for everyone else," Rachel said, standing up with a groan. A hand was pressed over her sore ribs. The legs were stiff. Her lip swollen. The makeup was unable to disguise the discolored eye.

"Yes, Billy hit me. He was drunk. And angry. Instead of his father's death being received with respect, it was turned into an ugly joke. Billy didn't get much time with his father that last year, he was busy with me. The slave slut who killed his father with both hands tied behind her back. I didn't think that joke was funny then, and I still don't. What about you, Billy? Do you think it's funny?"

William remained silent, looking down.

"Answer me! Do you think it's funny?" Rachel shouted.

"No, I don't think it's funny," he mumbled.

"You know what? I was angry, too," Rachel said, returning her attention to the room. "But I didn't have the luxury, like some did, of taking it out on some poor lab assistant. My mother's medical bills were ferocious, and without Daniel's help, paying them was going to be difficult. Then I showed up to work Monday morning with the early stages of pneumonia, and got fired. It was hard to blame Pamela for that. I'd become a subject of national ridicule. Though she didn't need to be so mean about it. And cancelling my health insurance was going a bit far."

Many eyes turned toward Pamela with frowns. That had not been mentioned before. Rachel began moving around the room.

"So? What is my disgraceful role in this shameful affair? Do you want it all? Do you, Uncle Sherbet? Is this really what you want?"

Rachel stood over Sherbet, staring down at him, her eyes squinting with soft rage. "Well? Answer my question! Is this where you what to go?"

Sherbet was speechless, wondering what happened to the quiet little girl sitting next to the Christmas tree. Rachel didn't wait for a response.

"Okay, but you've all been warned. Haven't you, Elly? Stacy-Jean? May? What about you, Aunt Hattie? Have you been warned?"

"We have," Hattie said, as startled as everyone else.

"Pammy?" Rachel said, suddenly turning in her direction.

There was a fierce gleam in Rachel's eyes. Pamela pushed back against Greenly, holding her breath. Rachel had never called her Pammy before.

"You should know that after Mrs. Benson fired me, I spent a few minutes on the roof of the Mitchell Building. Fourteen floors up. In a thunderstorm. It was cold and wet. When Mr. Mendelson got nervous and pulled me off the ledge, I went home to take stock. No money, no job, no prospects of a job, running a high fever, and no way to pay for my mother's care. Everyone was calling me a whore. They said I killed Daniel, and I believed them. What could I do about it, other than cry? And then I got a brilliant idea. If the fever proved fatal, my mother would collect my life insurance. Her bills would be paid, and I would be past my pain. It was a win-win situation."

She paused to let that sink in. No one was talking.

"And then comes along the architect of all your troubles," Rachel said, walking over to Pamela. "There she sits, ladies and gentlemen. There is your villain. My plan was working perfectly. I was burning with fever. Coughing. Vomiting. I couldn't breathe. I'd run out of water and was too weak to get off the couch for more. Another day or two, maybe just a few more hours, was all I needed. But then Pamela Benson breaks into my dingy apartment with her lapdog lawyer, waving Daniel's goddamn will in my face. Calling me a slut and a whore. Saying I'll never see a penny of the money."

Rachel knelt awkwardly on the floor, putting her hands on Pamela's knees, and looking up into her eyes.

"Daniel was dead, and I wanted to die," Rachel whispered. "What did I care about his will?"

Pamela could only stare. Was Rachel angry with her? For not letting her die? Rachel pushed herself back up, grunting with the effort.

"But that wasn't enough. Pamela wanted me to sign a paper renouncing the will. When Mr. Mendelson said I'd probably be dead before the papers were ready, she marched around my apartment complaining how impertinent that would be."

Rachel put her hands on her hips, imitating Pamela's walk. Everyone in the room laughed.

"Not satisfied with poking her nose where it didn't belong, Pam summoned her student nurse daughter to take care of me. And I gave Rory a bad time. I wouldn't talk. I wouldn't eat. I wouldn't even get out of bed. I just wanted her to go away."

Rachel went back to the Christmas tree, kneeling at Rory's feet, but without the resentment she'd shown Pamela. Bobby and Darlene were holding Rory's hands.

"Nothing I did could get rid of her," Rachel said with tears in her eyes. "She fed me, bathed me, kept me warm, and held me while I cried. I realized that if I died, Ro would feel responsible. The press would say Danny Benson's daughter got revenge on her father's slave girl. She was in a terrible spot, thanks to her mother, and I felt sorry for her."

Rachel slowly stood up for another stroll around the room, took a sip of Oliver's gin and soda, and returned to Pamela, pausing to brush her hair back over her shoulders. Rachel may have only been five feet and two inches tall, but she looked like a giant.

"Ro said she was tired of sleeping on my lumpy old couch on 14th Street, so she took me to Canby Place on the misguided notion that I was going to inherit it. And I started getting better, which made my problems worse. And then your villain showed up again, uninvited and unannounced. She crawled into my sickbed and declared we're going to be friends. She said I would get the house. A million dollars. Half of Marbury & Benson."

Rachel stared down at Pamela, her thin eyebrows bent.

"Really, folks? Did she really think I was that stupid? Pamela Benson was going to give her ex-husband's sex slave millions of dollars? The same girl she'd been humiliating in the press? Contrary to what everyone thinks, being introverted doesn't mean I'm an idiot. And if I hadn't been so scared, that's exactly what I would have said. But then she offered me chocolate cupcakes and paid my mother's medical bills."

Rachel went back for her tea, drank the last of it, and hung the cup on a tree branch, making it look like an ornament.

"I was confused after that. What was I supposed to do? Daniel was gone, I had no money, and it might be months before I could work again. Assuming anyone would hire me without a stripper pole being involved. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. None of you would ever have heard of me again. But Pamela Benson wouldn't permit that. She said I had to go to the funeral, for the sake of Daniel's family. I had to pretend to be her business partner, to appease the investors. I had to go to Aspen because ...? Hell, I have no clue why I had to come to Aspen. I don't even know how to ski. It's just been one demand after another, drawing me out. Making me have a life. Giving me hope. And I still don't understand why Pamela even cares. No one else ever has."

Rachel reached for the Maker's Mark in Rory's lap, but saw Bobby was holding a full shot glass. Rachel took it from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Marbury. Let me know if you ever need swimming lessons," Rachel said, gulping the bourbon down. And then she threw the shot glass into the fireplace, startling everyone.

"And then there's Billy," Rachel said, getting louder.

She retrieved the facial cleansers from Rory and sat on the floor in front of Hattie and Sherbet, scrubbing the makeup off and throwing the smeared wipes aside. The cosmetics had done a poor job of concealing the discolored cheeks. There was a dark ring under her left eye.

"Friends and family, I'm sorry if these bruises are too traumatic for you," Rachel said. "My father started beating me when I was a kid. Not long after my first period, he kicked me in the stomach saying he hoped I'd never have babies. When I was sent to a foster home, their son came back from Afghanistan and decided to be my boyfriend. He got my virginity, but not without a fight. A roadside bomb killed him in Kandahar, so maybe there is justice in this world."

Rachel finished cleaning her face, slowly got up, and marched to the corner where William was sitting. Oliver cleared out of the way. Everyone cleared out of the way. Rachel put her foot up on the heavy chair, leaning over him. William shrunk back, feeling trapped.

"Regardless of what the bloggers say, Billy didn't rape me. But even if he'd tried, it never would have happened. He's an amateur. All he managed were a few bruises, just before I brained him. Next time, Billy, make an appointment. I'll show you how to beat up a woman properly. If that's what you want. Is that what you want?"

"No," he whispered.

"Speak up! Is that what you want?"

"No, it's not what I want!" William yelled back.

She stared down at him, waiting to hear if he had anything more to say. William was holding his breath, staring back at her, unable to move. Rachel straightened up and returned to the center of the room.

"So, Billy got drunk, came to my room, and did a half-ass job of slapping me around. It cost Pamela a nice lamp. The bloodstains will wash out. After whacking the sot with a marble ashtray, I jumped off the balcony to get away. Regardless of what anyone says, landing on boats is not fun." She rubbed the ribs again, obviously giving her pain.

"Maybe William should face harsher charges. Assaulting a woman is a terrible thing. I'm not defending it. But I loved Daniel. Ruining his son's life is a grief I don't need, and that's my decision." She looked back in William's direction, making sure she had his attention. "But if I ever hear of you hitting a woman again, I'll come after you with more than a rock. Are we communicating?"

"Yes, ma'am," William quietly answered.

"If Daniel hadn't died the way he did, I'd just be another notch on his bedpost. But the media was vicious. They had fun calling me his sex slave. Well, here's a newsflash, boys and girls. I have never been anybody's slave. Not Daniel's, not anyone's. I live on my own terms, and I don't require approval from anyone in this room."

Rachel retrieved the Maker's Mark, patted Rory on the knee, and left the parlor. If they were going to have a family discussion, she didn't need to be there.

* * * * * *

"Rachel? Rach? Are you here?" John asked a few minutes later, entering the kitchen. He found her sitting on the floor in a darkened corner of the pantry. She wasn't crying, but she was sniffling. John sat on the floor next to her.

"Wow, you don't take any prisoners, do you?" he said.

"I shouldn't be talking like that. I shouldn't be thinking like that. Your mother has been teaching me dreadful habits," Rachel said, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Do you know where my coat went?"

"What do you need your coat for?"

"I'd rather leave on my own than get thrown out. It's more dignified."

"No one is going to throw you out."

"If I was Aunt Hattie, I'd throw me out."

"Let's get you some tea," John said, helping her up.

Rachel found the tea kettle warm, pouring herself a cup and making coffee for John. The cooking staff hadn't returned yet, but a big dinner was planned. She could smell turkeys in the ovens. Voices were coming from the parlor, but not loud enough for Rachel to hear. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Sit down," John urged again.

"I can't," Rachel said, pacing back and forth.

"It's gotten quiet in there. I'll go see what they're doing. Promise not to leave the house without me."

"I'm okay."

"Promise not to leave without me. Promise."

Rachel nodded, but still wasn't sure what she was going to do. There might be a late flight back to L. A.? she thought. It won't take long to pack my things at Canby Place. Why did I give up my apartment? That was stupid. Is Melvin's hiring?

A noise came from the hall. Someone was approaching slowly with a walking stick. Rachel was surprised when Hattie entered the kitchen, alone, leaning on her cane. Hattie took a seat at the kitchen table.

"May I have some of that tea, dear?" Hattie requested.

Rachel stepped over, pouring gently.

"You may sit," Hattie offered.

Rachel hesitated.

"Let me rephrase that, dear," Hattie said. "Sit down."

"Thank you," Rachel said, glad to get off her feet. Her legs ached.

"We'll be opening presents soon. You may wish to use the restroom. I have pajamas for you upstairs in my bedroom. More suitable for your condition than that uncomfortable dress. A robe and slippers, too. You need to get out of those boots."

"You aren't throwing me out?"

"Heaven forbid, no. Little lady, you have spunk."

"I should not have been disrespectful to you. In your own home. On Christmas."

"You don't need to apologize."

"I wasn't apologizing, I'm just sorry it happened."

Aunt Hattie sipped her tea. The temperature was just right.

"Everyone has their limits. This morning, I fear we tested yours."

"You must think I'm awful," Rachel said.

"On the contrary, I see a strong woman who doesn't care about things that aren't important, and fights like a lioness for what is. It's clear now why Danny loved you. He was a man who needed challenging, and you are certainly capable of that. And I see why Pam is invested in you. You are smart as a whip, and may do great things, if you don't hurt yourself first. Pam likes challenges, too."

"This isn't what I expected," Rachel said.

"We Marburys are tough nuts. Eccentric. A little snobby. Not quick to change. But we aren't blind. You are becoming a part of this family. It doesn't matter what the rest of us want. Pammy is going to make sure of it. For the rest, we'll just have to take it one day at a time."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

"You aren't wearing Daniel's engagement ring. Where is it?"

"In my pocket."

"Put it on, dear. The family will understand."

* * * * * *

Rachel used the upstairs bathroom, impressed by the gold fixtures, and took Hattie up on her offer of more comfortable clothes. Pamela and Rory found her in Hattie's bedroom changing into purple silk pajamas. The slippers were fluffy.

"I don't know what to say," Rory began, her eyes misty.

"There's nothing to say. Unless you're mad," Rachel said. "You can yell at me if you want to."

"I don't want to," Rory said, hugging her.

"You surprised me again," Pamela said, also reaching for a hug.

"You didn't leave me much choice. Are you mad?"

"No, dear. I'm tougher than that. Though not half as tough as you are."

"I'm not so tough, but I am confused. The math--"

"Rach, if there's anything you've taught me," Rory interrupted, "it's that the math only works if you use your heart."

"Honey, I'm going to tell you what I told the family, so there won't ever be any misunderstandings," Pamela said. "When Daniel died, I dismissed you as his latest fling. Beautiful. Sexy. Probably shallow and insipid. And then I learned what Daniel really saw in you. Your dedication, and your courage, and a desire to help others at any cost to yourself. I've never known anyone more giving. I'm not sorry I helped you that day. I'm not sorry I'm going to keep helping you. And I'm not sorry that I love you. Are we communicating?"

Rachel reached for another hug, her eyes filled with tears. Rory found tissues for her off the nightstand.

"Mom, I agree with everything you said," Rory added. "But you forgot to mention that Rach is stubborn, and pigheaded. And a little crazy. And she has a terrible temper."

"She does, dear, she does," Pamela agreed. "But Rachel makes up for it by being pretty."

Rachel laughed. It was the first time they'd seen her happy in days.

"I love you guys so much," Rachel said. "I'm sorry I got mean."

"Family are allowed to do that, dear," Pamela said, looking over at Rory.

Rachel needed to sit on the bed, her legs tired. Rory sat next to her, helping with the thick burgundy robe. Rachel was having trouble getting her arms down the sleeves.

"Are you drunk?" Rory asked.

"A little. But no numbers. They're gone for a while."

"Did you get a solution? Is it the one you wanted?" Pamela said.

Rachel nodded, but didn't elaborate. They noticed she was wearing the ring again.

"Now that you've survived that crucible, what are you thinking?" Pamela asked.

"I don't want to do too much thinking. Not today. It's too hard. I want to get drunk, wake up in a warm bed, and have no one hitting me."

"We can help with that, but don't get sloshed until after dinner. You don't want to make a bad impression," Rory said, making Rachel laugh again.

"Tea until after dinner, and then no promises," Rachel said.

They went downstairs to the parlor, Rachel finding her spot on the floor near the tree. Bobby, Darlene, and the younger cousins were quick to gather around, asking if she needed anything. They were surprised to learn Rachel knew their names, and though shy, she managed to make small talk with each of them. The seniors acknowledged her with respectful nods. Rory began talking about Sheila's holiday trip to Paris, letting Rachel escape further scrutiny.

Family members exchanged presents, mostly tokens. Aunt Hattie gave Rachel a generous gift certificate to Saks Fifth Avenue. Rachel offered to make banana bread for her. There was a lot of talking.

When it came to Rachel's turn, everyone hushed up. She didn't sense any of the earlier hostility, only curiosity.

"I don't really know anyone, except a few of the Bensons," Rachel said. "I just have a few things to give, if that's okay?"

Rory had been on the couch next to her cousins, but slid down to the floor. Rachel handed her a green envelope.

"We talked about this before, but now it's official. Mr. Mendelson was very helpful getting it expedited," Rachel explained. Rory opened the envelope and showed everyone. It was the pink slip on the 1957 Maserati. Rory gave her a grateful hug. Then Rachel handed John an envelope.

"I know you said to keep the car, but you look so good in it. I can still take the bus." John proudly showed everybody the pink slip for the '65 Shelby.

"Thank you, Rachel. Maybe one day we can drive it back to Boston together?" John said. Rachel gave a noncommittal smile and reached for another envelope.

"William?" she said, holding it out.

"What? No," William said, backing away.

John took the envelope so Rachel wouldn't have to get up, and walked it over. William opened it in silence, and then left the room.

"Bensons never were any damn good at saying thank you," Aunt Elly complained.

"What was it?" Greenly asked.

"The pink slip to Dad's Ferrari," John said.

"You gave Billy the Ferrari? After ... after ...?" Rory sputtered.

"His father wanted him to have it," Rachel said.

"That's generous, Rachel, but I wish you hadn't," Pamela scolded. "Rewarding Billy's bad behavior will only make matters worse."

"I'm sorry, Pam, but you're wrong," Rachel said. "What William needs is a big brother to lean on. A sister to hug. A mother to say everything is going to be okay. It's hard being angry all the time."

Many in the room murmured approval. Rory noticed Aunt Hattie nodding with satisfaction. Even Uncle Sherbet was giving Rachel an admiring look.

"I'll try to reach out more," John offered.

"Me, too. I guess," Rory reluctantly agreed.

"He'll get no sympathy from me," Pamela said, her arms crossed.

William reappeared in the doorway, the pink slip still in his hand. He entered and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Rachel, making John nervous.

"I'm sorry I hit you," William said. "I'm sorry for everything. And I'm sorry I wasn't man enough to apologize. I can't take the car. Not until I've earned it, so you need to take this back." William handed her the pink slip.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.

"There is something you can give me." William reached in his shirt pocket and took out a yellow card.

"What's that?" Sherbet asked.

"It's a playing card. From a Monopoly set," Rory replied.

"It's the get-out-of-jail-free card," Rachel said, showing it to the room.

"You gave him one of those yesterday," Oliver complained.

Rachel looked at William, studying the pensive green eyes. He seemed sincere. She couldn't be sure, but it wasn't her job to dash his hopes.

"William, would you please accept this from me?" she said, handing him the card.

"Thank you, Rachel. I will never hurt you again."

"I know," Rachel replied. "I have one more envelope, but I don't know how it will be received." She gave the envelope to William, who gave it to Pamela.

"What can this be? You've run out of cars," Pamela said with a smile. And then she stopped smiling. "No. No, don't do this."

"The Marburys and Bensons founded the company. It should stay in the family," Rachel said.

Pamela went around the room, showing the gift. It was a deed of trust giving up Rachel's share of Marbury & Benson.

"We talked about this before," Pamela said.

"If the probate court rules against Daniel's provisions, it won't be mine anyway. Or the house, or the money. If the court wants everything back, I don't know how I'm going to pay for those cars I just gave away."

"There's doubt about the will?" Greenly asked.

"No, there is no doubt about the will," Pamela said. "Rory, are you contesting the will? John?" She paused to look at her younger son. "Billy?"

"No contest from me, Mom," William quickly said.

Pamela sat on the couch, hovering over Rachel with the trust deed in her hand.

"You aren't trying to wiggle out of your contract, are you?" Pamela asked.

"I don't have a contract, Mrs. Benson. You fired me."

"Everyone, you need to understand. Rachel is enjoying a joke at my expense," Pamela explained. "It's actually quite ironic."

"Going to clue us in?" Hattie asked.

"Rachel was never Danny's lab assistant. She's doing remarkable research. Research only she knows how to do. Houston Inquisitors wants her. Constant Dynamics wants her. She can afford to give Marbury & Benson back because she can write her own ticket now. She doesn't need me."

Rachel started to protest. Pamela wouldn't be interrupted.

"I'm sorry, dear. You've expressed loyalty many times, and I love you for that. But the truth is the truth. And I'm not accepting your share of the company. You see, sweetheart, I don't need the money, and without you, owning M & B wouldn't be any fun."

Pamela crumpled the deed up and threw it in the fireplace.

Rachel tried to get up for a hug, but her legs were too stiff. Pamela sat down next to her.

"Do you want to tell them about your project?" Pamela whispered.

"I'm not ready yet. Maybe after dinner and a few more drinks."

"Don't drink too much," Pamela warned.

"Gosh, Mrs. Benson," Rachel replied. "I'm on vacation."

* * * * * *

There is one episode to go as the Benson and Marbury families are getting to see the real Rachel.