21st Century Knight

Chapter 15 The Parent Trap

Sunday morning. The big day. The day Brandon would take Gabriella to meet his parents. The pressure mounted so much on her that she had to take several deep breaths before reaching a state where she could get ready. She tried not to let the gnawing questions of terror eat her insides – would they like her? Would they approve of her dating their son? What would they think of her? Would they even accept her as part of the family when she and Brandon had barely begun dating?

"No, no, no, I can't afford to think about all that now," Gabriella sternly told herself. No need to lose her head before even getting out of the house. She turned her attention to her appearance, making sure she took extra care to look presentable. Only after she had combed every last strand of hair smoothly, patted every stray crease on her clothes, and brushed every last speck of dust off her shoes with meticulous care did she finally exit her apartment and make her way down to the lobby to wait for Brandon. He arrived right on time.

"Good morning, darling," He smiled at her, noting her extremely satisfactory appearance as he helped her into the car.

"Morning." Gabriella smiled back at him, doing her good job of hiding her nervousness. He leaned over to put on her seatbelt for her. He took his time with it, his eyes lingering on her.

"This reminds me of something… ah, the day after we met. The seatbelt got caught in your blouse, remember?" Gabriella groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"I’d never been so embarrassed in my life," she said, recalling that day. Brandon chuckled, showing his sparkling teeth. He started the car and drove off.

"Don’t worry, it was only with me," he said reassuringly. " And when you’re with me, you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. Just relax. Breathe. Like when I kiss you." She blushed harder at that and hid her face by turning to look out the window.

"You keep forgetting I can see your face in the mirror. By the way, as pretty as you look in that dress, you look beautiful no matter what you wear. You’d be beautiful even without wearing anything." She gasped sharply.

"Brandon!" she slapped his arm. He laughed.

"Okay, I deserved that."

"You better be on your best behavior since we're going to meet your parents or else." Gabriella scolded him as a school teacher would a misbehaving child. Brandon looked contrite.

"Ouch. Yes ma'am." He turned on the radio. They drove in silence for a while. After half an hour, they reached a highway outside the city. They drove past rivers and low mountains and a few deserted plains. It was as they passed the river that Gabriella rolled down the window to look out. The sunshine beat down on her face, giving her eyelashes a golden hue. The wind whipped through her hair. She smiled to herself. She loved the rush of the wind and the warmth of the sun on her skin. Brandon turned to look at her, admiring her glowing face for a moment.

"Try holding out your hand in the wind," he suggested to her. She gingerly stuck her hand out. The feeling was amazing. It was like she was grasping the wind in her hand and letting go of it at once. Brandon rolled down his window as well.

"I love this; it feels like I’m flying." She caught Brandon’s eyes on her.

"What?" she asked, struck by the intense look in them.

"Nothing, it’s just… you make me fall in love with you again and again, Gabriella." He admitted easily. Gabriella smiled at him.

"We should really have nicknames for each other. All couples usually do. Nobody calls me Gabriella all the time."

"Well, I'd like to be the only one who does," Brandon pouted a little, "but if it means that much to you, how about we stick with the classics? Like darling and honey."

"That's okay I guess, but I meant shorter versions of our name."

"Hmm…"

"Like Brando?" Gabriella teased.

"Not that," Brandon looked grossed out, "I feel nauseous with that name because Madison used to call me that in that simpering voice of hers. No, I need something else."

"But I like your name, and I like calling it."

"Thanks, darling." Brandon smiled.

"What do your parents call you?" Gabriella asked.

"My mom used to call me Barry, but I didn’t like it when I reached high school. But no one calls me Barry anymore. Except for Peter, and that’s only on rare occasions."

"Then I’ll call you Barry once in a while. You don’t mind, do you?" he slipped his hand behind her neck and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"I don’t mind, so long as you call me at all. I love it when you call me."

"So what will you call me?"

"Didn’t you have any pet names at home?"

"Everyone usually just calls me Gabby for short."

"Gabby. Hmm. I can improve that. How about Angel?"

"Why that?"

"Because your name is Gabriella and that’s like the angel’s name. Also, you're very beautiful, like an angel." Gabriella reddened, embarrassed at his touching compliment but flattered all the same. Brandon laughed on seeing her reaction.

"Alright. From now on, you're my Angel." He really means it… Gabriella thought, seeing how earnest Brandon was.

They drove past a lake that had a wide stretch of ground around it.

"Want to stop and stretch your legs? We still have half an hour to go." Brandon said, slowing down.

"Sure." Gabriella nodded at him. He pulled up in front of the lake and they got out of the car.

"Hmm. That smell is so refreshing."

"The scent of nature. I didn’t know you liked the outdoors."

"I do, but I don't go out to places like this very often. I used to but… not anymore since I moved to the city." The wind blew upon her face, flapping her hair behind her. She closed her eyes. Brandon, who was standing a little way behind her, watched her, with a longing look. He took a step toward her, placing one hand on her shoulder, the other on the flat of her back. She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder.

"Don’t mind me. I just like watching you when you're so carefree."

"Do I seem carefree now?"

"Yes, you don’t seem as uptight as you usually are." She stopped smiling and stepped touchily away from him.

"Hey don’t get offended. I like you as you are, but you seem like your real self when you're free of all your cares."

"I guess city life has taken a toll on me," Gabriella admitted.

"It has. You’re way too tense sometimes."

"No fair. You're from the city too, and in a way more stressful position than me," Gabriella rejoined. Brandon removed his sunglasses and polished them with his handkerchief before replacing them.

"True. But my parents aren’t the most stressed-out people in the world and they taught me to be as relaxed as they are. Life’s too short to waste time stressing and worrying, you know?" He said, squinting against the sunlight.

"You’re right. But it’s not easy when you're a working-class citizen."

"Still. What can you gain from being stressed for, say… forty to fifty years of life, then retiring and learning to relax when you're too old to enjoy what life has to offer?" She remained silent, pondering his words. She stared across the lake, to the forest on the opposite bank.

"It would be nice to live without stress…" She said and shut her eyes again, breathing in the moist air. "I guess this is as relaxed as I can get. The atmosphere here is soothing." Brandon came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Maybe someday you can live near a place like this," he said. Gabriella smiled.

"Neither the suburb nor the city. It would be nice. By the way, I haven’t forgiven you for calling me uptight. That means you’re not allowed to do this." She pulled his hands apart from her stomach and pushed them off. He simply came and hugged her back, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Oh come on, Angel. I’m sorry." He put on his puppy dog face, tilting his head sideways to see her face.

"Do you always get what you want with that face? Does everyone fall for it?"

"Pretty much. But I want you to fall for it more than anyone." He was so frank as he spoke with his bottom lip stuck out that Gabriella couldn’t help bursting out in laughter.

"Alright, I forgive you," she yielded. Brandon kissed her cheek.

"Thanks, Angel. I always knew you were one."

"Despite being uptight?" Gabriella asked with raised eyebrows.

"Even angels are allowed to vent." Brandon laughed, holding on to her tightly. They stayed like that for a long moment, enjoying the fresh air and warm kisses of the sun on their skin until Gabriella, conscientious of passing time, reminded him that they should get going.

"I don’t want to be late and give a bad impression," she said.

"That’s never going to happen," Brandon assured her, as they resumed their journey.

They arrived at Whiteley Manor in good time, although a little off schedule than expected since they had stopped by the lake. The manor itself was a tall, elegant building surrounded by neatly trimmed gardens and sheltered in the midst of a modest forest. A wide pebble path led up to the house. An elderly woman was sitting in the front yard on a woven chair, shaded by a huge white umbrella. She was half asleep when Brandon drove up; she woke up when she heard his car.

"Brandon darling, I’m so glad you came! I’ve been waiting for you all morning." She came down the front steps and hugged him. He embraced her back, an affectionate smile on his face.

"Mother, I’d like you to meet Gabriella Keller," Brandon said, gesturing to Gabriella. Brandon's mother turned to look at Gabriella.

"My, my, aren’t you a beauty! Brandon told me a lot about you and I'm pleased to say you far exceeded my expectations." She pulled Gabriella into a gentle hug, half kissing her on either cheek. Gabriella smiled at her. She was shorter by three inches, with graying hair that might have been blonde when she was younger. She was slightly wrinkled around her hazel eyes and mouth, implying a smiling, good-humored nature. She was slight and not very heavy, and she had an air of delicateness or fragility about her. She moved slowly in her gait.

"It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Whiteley. Brandon has wanted me to meet you for a long time."

"Yes, I have been pestering him to come to have lunch one day so that I could finally meet his girlfriend. I’m glad to see him obedient at last." Mrs. Whiteley said with a sideways glance at her son.

"Mother, stop before Gabriella thinks I’m a delinquent who doesn’t listen to his parents!" Brandon whined. Mrs. Whitely laughed and Gabriella covered a smile.

"Come in dear, we can get out of this blazing sun," Mrs. Whitely beckoned them, "I was napping for a while earlier but I’m afraid it’s far too hot to sit outside now." She led them inside. The hallway was wide and tall but modestly furnished, although Gabriella could tell it was exquisite furniture. Carpets lined the floors, large landscape paintings dotted the paneled walls and dainty chandeliers graced the ceilings. Tall French windows lined every wall, awarding the room with maximum light. Gabriella whispered to Brandon.

"Your parent’s house is huge!"

"Is it? I never really noticed. My father built it when my parents first moved here and christened it Whiteley Manor." Whiteley Manor, Gabriella repeated in her head. That sounded familiar.

"Wally! Brandon’s just arrived." Mrs. Whiteley called out. A door on their right side opened and a short plump man came out. He was also graying and partially bald. He had a short gray beard, handsome features, and piercing blue eyes, just like Brandon’s.

"Son! Come here my boy; let me give you a hug. It’s been months since I saw you." He gave his son a bone-crushing hug, then shook hands vigorously with Gabriella.

"Say, you are a pretty little lady! Not like that actress you used to go about with, isn't that right, Brandon?" He was jovial and had a friendly manner. To Gabriella, though, his voice seemed strangely familiar.

"Come to the dining room, you're just in time for lunch." Mrs. Whiteley ushered them all in.

"You know, it’s a little strange," Gabriella said slowly to Brandon, "I feel like I know your dad."

"Everyone feels like that. He’s just naturally friendly. A lot of people feel comfortable around him." Brandon brushed off.

"Maybe… But I feel like I heard him somewhere before…"

"Barry dear, I should’ve warned you. Your aunt Rebecca will be joining us for lunch. She said she’d be here by twelve," Mrs. Whiteley said.

"What?! Mother, why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

"She only decided last night, dear. She said not to tell you to keep it a surprise. But I thought you should know. She's been terribly keen on meeting up for lunch." She looked apologetic. Brandon turned to his father, looking harrowed.

"Father!"

"I wish I could stop her son, but you know what your aunt's like. She’ll probably come to talk about some other young doll she has in mind for you. Pardon me, my dear," Mr. Whiteley glanced apologetically at Gabriella, "I shouldn’t talk about such things in front of my son’s girlfriend. Oh well, we have no choice now but to put up with it," he said wearily.

"But father, today was supposed to be a nice, quiet—" he got no further because the front door opened with a bang, and a heavily dressed stout woman passed through them.

"Brandon, darling! There's my one and only nevvie! It’s been ages since I last saw you." The woman came and hugged Brandon daintily and Gabriella got swept to the side.

"Aunt Rebecca," Brandon greeted her stiffly, "I'd like you to meet Gabriella, my girlfriend." She looked with surprised eyes at her. Gabriella thought she saw hostility in them.

"Well, I guess you beat me to it. Again." She looked far from pleased to see Gabriella and turned to her sister-in-law, changing the subject. "Camille, is lunch ready yet? You know how I hate it when things aren’t punctual."

"Of course, Rebecca. We were just going to sit down."

"Excellent." Brandon's aunt waddled into the dining room and everyone else followed behind. They all walked into the large dining room and took their seats. Gabriella didn't miss the fact that Brandon’s face had darkened at the arrival of his aunt.

"Barry, we've got some excellent catches today. There’s crab and calamari, your favorite." Mrs. Whiteley told her son. Brandon's face relaxed.

"Hmm, I missed that. Fresh seafood straight from the sea is hard to come by in the city. And so is your cooking, mother."

"We’ve also prepared several vegetarian dishes for you, dear," Mrs. Whiteley addressed Gabriella, "Brandon’s told me about your preference."

"That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Whiteley. I hope you didn’t take too much trouble," Gabriella replied.

"Goodness me, don’t you eat meat?" Aunt Rebecca asked in surprise.

"No Mrs. er—"

"Roswell. Rebecca Roswell."

"No, Mrs. Roswell. I don’t eat either meat or seafood."

"Well, your diet is not very balanced. I, for one, don't put much stock in overly health-conscious people." she had been too brusque to the point of rudeness. Brandon's jaw visibly tightened. Walter caught his sister’s eye and frowned.

"But Gabriella is an excellent cook. She can do wonders with vegetables. Her lasagna is to die for." Brandon pointed out, trying to keep his voice polite.

"How do you know?" Aunt Rebecca asked with a strange look.

"I’ve tried her cooking. I visit her place quite often," Brandon replied. His aunt looked scandalized.

"Camille dear, sometimes I wonder how you ever raised him," she said, shaking her head in despair. Brandon’s eyes hardened. But before he could say anything, Mr. Whiteley spoke.

"Oh he is a rascal alright, but he’s never given us grief since the day he was born." Mrs. Roswell rolled her eyes.

"Still, one can never be too careful about raising boys. They're quite likely to get wild ideas, influenced by modern conventions—"

"Eudora, please serve lunch quickly." Mrs. Whiteley interrupted her sister-in-law, speaking to the maid. She could see her son's temper quickly boiling up and wanted to calm the contention before it could get out of hand. She knew Brandon would fly off the handle if provoked enough. Gabriella noted this interchange in silence, distinctly aware that Brandon's aunt looked down on her. She hid a quiet sigh to herself. It was too much to hope for to be accepted by all of Brandon's family – but still, at least Brandon's parents seemed to approve of her.

Two maids returned with several platters and laid them on the table. There was calamari with a dipping sauce, lemon butter salmon, and a large shiny red crab. There was also Caesar salad and vegetable croquettes for appetizers, leek soup, stuffed bell peppers, and pasta in white sauce.

"That all looks so delicious," Gabriella said, wowed by the amount of food. Brandon served her, piling her plate to the full.

"I hope you like it," he said, leaning close to whisper in her ear. His aunt spoke up just then.

"Walter, I hope you fired that cook from last time. The fish she fried was a perfect catastrophe," she said, her voice grating with a complaint.

"I haven’t fired anyone in the last twenty-six years, Rebecca. And my idea of catastrophe is a flood or hurricane," Mr. Whiteley returned cheerfully. Brandon snorted with laughter but tried to turn it into a cough. Gabriella also pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. Aunt Rebecca gave them both a sharp look and huffed.

"You should hire cooks from France, Camille dear. They are far better than these locals." She turned to her sister-in-law in hopes of getting an agreement.

"If I want French food, Rebecca, I’ll hop on a plane to France. Besides, Brandon hates French food and Camille doesn’t like anything underdone. So we are fine with the local chefs." Mrs. Roswell pursed her lips in irritation. Mrs. Whiteley hurried to soothe the atmosphere.

"Why don't we enjoy the meal for now? I, for one, am grateful for the variety we have today." In her gentle voice, she managed to bring a semblance of peace to the table. Aunt Rebecca went silent for a few minutes and the meal proceeded in silence. Gabriella wondered how meals could be so uncomfortable; but then again, she rarely ate with anyone and hadn't known either the companionship or discomfort of eating with other people. Mr. Whiteley turned to Gabriella, breaking the silence.

"Where do you work, Gabriella?"

"At Diana Cosmetics."

"My, that’s a notable company. What do you do there?" Mrs. Roswell piped up with interest, dangling her fork under her chin. Gabriella hesitated for a moment before replying.

"I work in the customer services department." Mrs. Roswell looked disdainful and snorted, but a look from her sister-in-law made her think again before voicing her opinion. Mr. Whiteley's eyes widened.

"Customer service? Say, have I talked to you before? I called that very same company a few weeks ago."

"Perhaps you have, Mr. Whiteley." Gabriella looked up.

"You might not remember, but I ordered a gift. A makeup collection. Deluxe I think it was." Gabriella suddenly remembered. It was the very day she first ran into Brandon – the one customer who had complimented her!

"Oh! Mr. Whiteley of number 12 Ashbourne, Whiteley Manor, I remember."

"Ha! You were that charming young lady who suggested a gift for Camille! Camille, you can thank Gabriella for choosing your birthday gift. You said you loved it." Camille looked up at Gabriella, smiling.

"Isn’t it a small world! I absolutely loved the collection Walter had given me. I'm so glad it’s thanks to you, dear." Mrs. Whiteley beamed at Gabriella. Brandon also smiled at her.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Whiteley. And actually… that was the day I met Brandon."

"Really? How ever did you two meet?" Mrs. Roswell asked inquisitively.

"That’s a secret, aunt. We don’t like sharing all our personal details." Brandon added quickly. He squeezed Gabriella’s hand under the table, who smiled gratefully at him for not revealing their rather messy first meeting.

"He’s too secretive, Walter. I warned you about letting him live alone in the city." Aunt Rebecca reprimanded her brother.

"We all have secrets when we're young, Rebecca. Camille and I used to always sneak out together long past curfew in college. What mischief we used to get up to." Walter glanced adoringly at his wife, who returned a loving gaze of her own at him.

"And besides, aunt, it's more convenient for me to live in the city being closer to the office," Brandon justified. "I am a grown man after all."

"Always the argumentative type…" Aunt Rebecca muttered dismally to herself. Mrs. Whiteley switched topics.

"How is the food dear?" she asked Gabriella.

"It’s wonderful," Gabriella replied sincerely, as she was really enjoying the food.

"I made those croquettes myself. I especially hoped you would like them," Mrs. Whiteley added.

"I do, thank you, Mrs. Whiteley."

"Mother, is the beach crowded today?" Brandon asked.

"It’s crowded almost every day, Barry. But there’s a private section off the west coast where nobody ever goes. You can go there if you want."

"Thanks."

"Are we near the coast?" Gabriella asked.

"Yes, the beach isn’t too far from here. You can see it from the top floor balcony," Mr. Whiteley said.

"The heat is too extreme, Walter. I can’t imagine how you and Camille can bear to live here. Somewhere higher up would be better. It’s cooler and still has plenty of fresh air." Aunt Rebecca inserted dismally.

"I understand that, Rebecca," Mrs. Whiteley said patiently, "but I prefer warmth. Wally and I also go swimming often. It’s very enjoyable when it’s warm." Aunt Rebecca didn't seem to have an answer to that.

"Angel, you’re rather quiet," Brandon stated, turning to Gabriella. She blushed at finding herself the center of attention.

"Yes, do tell us a little about yourself. Where do you live?" Mr. Whiteley asked.

I live on Perch Street. It’s tucked away in the heart of the city."

"You live alone?" Mrs. Roswell asked, a little disdain fast brewing in her tone.

"Yes, I live in an apartment."

"It must be hard to be away from your family," Mrs. Whiteley said kindly.

"Yes, but I do visit them from time to time. My family lives in Kansas."

"That’s quite a distance by car," Mr. Whiteley remarked.

"It is, but I get by. I can make it there in just a few hours by train."

"Do you prefer city life, or country life, dear?" Mrs. Whiteley asked.

"I’ve grown accustomed to city life so I like it, in a way. But a quiet country life is still appealing," Gabriella said wistfully.

"Do you travel on weekends?" Mr. Whiteley asked.

"Only a couple times a year, travel is rather expensive to be frequent. But I also take leave when I stay for many days in Kansas." The maids brought dessert just then. There was a cheesecake with chocolate shavings. Everyone helped themselves in silence for a minute.

"Gabriella also volunteers at a charity center. She’s quite popular." Brandon said, determined to show off her fine points.

"Brandon," Gabriella blushed, feeling self-conscious.

"What? We’ve both been there, and helped out with a school clean-up. It's commendable work."

"Don’t people hire cleaning crews?" Aunt Rebecca asked in surprise.

"No, aunt, it’s a voluntary task. That’s why it’s for charity," Brandon said coolly.

"Nicolette Laws also does charity work, Brandon," his aunt mentioned. "She attends a monthly bazaar and donates to more than five institutions. She's really one of the most generous patrons I know."

"That’s kind of her," Brandon said uninterestedly. Gabriella could tell he was on the borderline of sarcasm.

"Yes, she is." Aunt Rebecca mistook his reply for enthusiasm and brightened up, plunging into the subject with gusto. "And her father, Mr. Howard Laws is thinking of leaving his company to her. Provided she gets married, of course. A smart, beautiful, philanthropic young woman such as herself is quite in demand. In fact, she is looking for—" she got no further because Brandon slammed his hands on the table; he stood up so fast the table shook, startling everyone.

"That’s enough, aunt Rebecca," he said in a low, hard tone. Gabriella could sense the anger in his stance. "Every time, it’s some woman or another who’s fabulously wealthy, or extremely beautiful, or inheriting a big company, or won a damn Nobel prize. I won’t date any of the girls you suggest, and I’d appreciate it if you could stop trying to pair me off with the women you pick. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my girlfriend and I will be leaving." He took Gabriella’s hand and led her out of the room. Gabriella felt herself being dragged away in shock and tried to stop him in vain.

"Brandon! Wait!" But they were out of the room before she got through to him. Aunt Rebecca immediately shook her head.

"Tsk, tsk, how terribly willful! That boy should’ve been taught a good lesson a long time ago," Mrs. Roswell stated in a stiff voice.

"Be quiet, Rebecca. I’ve also had enough of this nonsense. Camille and I have raised our son the way we chose and we’ve never regretted it." Mr. Whiteley stood up for his son and shut his sister up. Mrs. Whiteley sighed, upset that her lovely luncheon had been interrupted. She turned to the dining room doors, looking for Brandon. She hoped he and Gabriella would return soon; she had been so looking forward to getting to know the girl her son seemed so enamored by.