Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (27 page)

"Benjamin Emanuel Cobb V," I said.

"No." He broke the embrace and turned to look at me.

"It's a tradition in your family. For generations the first son is Benjamin. I wouldn't dream of breaking it."

"I will not saddle my son with the name. It's pompous, arrogant, and confusing. What will you call us?"

"Grandpa, Daddy, and darling baby boy."

"Alexia."

"I vote for Benjamin, and so will your father."

"He's my son, and as for my name, it stops with me."

"But—" I began.

"Subject closed. Time for food."

He took my hand as we hiked downstairs toward the kitchen.

"Don't be upset. There are plenty of names and plenty of time. We'll come up with something," he said.

"Family connections are important to me. The baby needs to feel accepted as a full member. People will know we broke the tradition. He'll want and need an explanation as to why."

"Who cares what people think? It's none of their business what we call him. Herman, Widget, Poochie, or Thor."

"Thor Cobb the First. A new trend, I like it," his father said as he approached us.

"Dad, do you mind?"

"Yes, I do. It's about the name. Your mother pushed tradition, too. I liked Paul Louis Cobb myself. She would have none of it. 'What would your family think? What would people say?' I didn't care, but it was very important to her. Don't get bogged down in the fifth of anything, Alexia. Give him a clean slate. We need a new name. What was your father's name?"

"Alexander William," I said.

"Perfect."

"But it's too close to my name. Alexia and Alexander."

Back at the table, I picked at my meal. Names were important. They gave a sense of belonging, continuity, and rebirth. I had to convince them. Not an easy task, but I was determined to try.

After lunch, Ben and his father went into the library to discuss investment business. I had no idea how much money Ben had, and I didn't care. It would belong to my child.

I hoped my son would resemble his father, inherit his creativity, and possess an intellectual curiosity. I hoped my daughter picked up Ben's traits too. Please not another klutzy me.

Ben found me curled up in a leather chair reading
Nathan's Nest
in the living room.

"It's been a long time since I've read your mother's books. I hope your father doesn't mind. I found it on the book shelf," I said.

"I'm sure he won't mind. We're talking about the museum, and we want your input."

"This is your project and your choices. I'm only unpacking boxes."

"Wait a minute. It was your idea in the first place. He likes you. Told me the smartest thing I ever did was knock you up and drag you to the altar."

I blushed to my toes as my ever-loving husband laughed.

Mr. Cobb's office featured stuffed big game. A lion's head mounted over the fireplace. A buck's head hung over the doorway. Several fish were on display as well.

"Helen referred to it as the Barbarian Room," his father said.

Wood beams on the ceiling, leather chairs, and hunting rifles in a glass case. Any false moves here would be deadly.

We sat at the table, surrounded by blueprints and notes.

"Now to work. I'd like to hear about your treasure hunt," Mr. Cobb said as he joined us.

"It has been an adventure. I found Ben's baby book and childhood mementos. I'm delighted to have them for our baby," I said.

"My grandson will need a good laugh now and again."

"You're right. She also found your love letters to Mom. They are so corny. How did she fall for you?"

"You read them?" his father asked in an accusatory tone.

"Sure. I'll give them back, but it will cost you," Ben said.

Their glares locked on each other. I hoped the rifles weren't loaded.

"Those letters were written for one person. They were never meant to be seen by another. Return them, I'd like a bonfire on the beach," Mr. Cobb said.

"You were in love. I didn't recognize the man who wrote those letters. You had to marry her. You poured out your heart and soul, Dad. What would you have done if she'd refused you?" Ben asked.

"I don't want to shock or insult your wife."

"I'll leave," I said.

My stomach flipped over because I hated any confrontation.

"No, I mean it. Alexia thinks you're this urbane country squire semi-retired in Florida. I know you'd kill for a deal. You can be low, dirty, and a beast from hell."

"Just like you," Mr. Cobb said.

"Damn right. I know you, but Alexia should hear it herself."

"My son harbors the contention I pushed Helen into marriage and kept her there under lock and key. He believes I loved her, but not enough."

I stood up and went to the door.

"He would have raped her, gotten her pregnant, and held the shame over her head until she married him," Ben said.

"I never raped Helen. How many times do we have to go over this?"

"I thought your mother had problems getting pregnant," I said to Ben.

"Staying pregnant. Helen had two miscarriages when we were married," Mr. Cobb explained.

"And one before," Ben said.

"Yes for the millionth time. Helen was pregnant before we were married. When she found out, we went to Wisconsin, and were wed in secret. She lost the baby six weeks later. We never mentioned it to anyone." He looked directly at Alexia. "Ben only found out after she died. I answered routine questions for the coroner. 'How many times had she been hospitalized? Three miscarriages and one live birth.' Ben didn't know about the first one. He doesn't believe me. He thinks I assaulted Helen, but it's not true. Actually in light of current events, I could say the same about you," his father said.

Ben pivoted and went for his father. I screamed as Gavin rushed in.

"Finally. This has been brewing for almost fifteen years," Gavin said.

"They had a throw down in Chicago. Is this best of two out of three?" I stood in the doorway and watched the two men wrestle on the floor.

Gavin made no move to stop them. I'd had enough. I stormed in and picked up my phone and took a few candid shots. Oblivious to my actions, they continued to swear and roll on the floor. Time to get their undivided attention and declare some new house rules. I selected a horned relic from the nearest table and hurled it at the wall above the mantle. I missed and picked off two framed pictures. All crashed to the floor. The Cobbs stopped and looked at me in horror.

"Animals behave better than you two. Either they stay close as a family or walk away and pretend they never met. Mature men don't settle their differences with fists. You two pick fights for fun. Well, boys, the fun stops now." I held up my phone. "These photos are poised to hit the Internet. You love publicity, and it adores you. Any more physical skirmishes and you go live."

I typed a message and hit send.

"Your sweating faces are now in the possession of my sisters. One more swing and I'll give the signal to set them free. Now, will you behave?"

Ben let go of his father and stood.

"Idle threats are unbecoming to a lady," Mr. Cobb said, nursing his left wrist.

"I've met her sisters. They'll sell the pictures to fund their retirement," Ben said as he helped his father up.

"No more games, no more 'Helen loved me best,' and no more fighting. I'm hormonal, territorial, and with a slight provocation, primordial. The child growing within me carries your collective DNA. He or she is in the beginning of life. Being exposed to stupidity in such a fragile state could negatively affect brain development. Role-model training starts now Stand up or stand aside." I said as I spied another heavy object to throw.

"Alexia," Ben said with swollen lip and black eye.

"No apologies or explanations. Pledge to do better and fight no more. I'm going to bed." I spun around and marched out of the room.

Wow, maternal instinct rocked.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I woke as the early morning sun rose. I had slept over twelve hours and my temples pounded like a set of bongos. I rolled into something hard also known as my husband.

"When are we going back to Chicago?" I asked as I got up and put on a robe.

"We will be here for a couple of days. I want to relax some, too. You can't let a testosterone brawl frighten you. I must admit it did clear the air some," Ben said as he stretched.

"Is your father all right?"

"Yes, he's in great shape. I'm sure we are pretty evenly matched," he said, rubbing his swollen jaw.

"You behaved abominably. Both of you. Attacking one another. Someone could have been seriously hurt."

"How about a kiss to make it better?"

"No thanks." I backed up to the window. "Did you want to have a baby so soon?

"I did not intentionally get you pregnant, but it sped our courtship up nicely. I love you, and the baby is a bonus."

He kicked the blankets back and revealed he was happy to see me.

"I'm not in the mood," I said.

"I know, but I can't help it. Scowling women turn me on. How about a quick shower and breakfast?"

"You go ahead."

"I'm sorry I upset you by attacking my father. I'm sorry we pick at each other. It's the way we're programmed. Face facts, I'm not much, but I'm all yours."

He stood and pulled on his pants.

"You have to get along with your father."

"After yesterday's bloodletting, I have a feeling things will be better. I've blamed him for a lot of bullshit. As a son, I never viewed my mother as a woman. I put her on a pedestal and gave her so many ridiculous virtues, I lost track of her as a person. She remembered to cut the crust off of my bread and peel apples for me. Forty years ago, being pregnant and single was a huge scandal. My mother would have been branded for life. Her own family could have tossed her out and been congratulated for it. My father had money and influence. He could have thrown her a few bucks and dropped her. But he didn't, he loved her and married her." He stood by the balcony door.

"I'm sure he adored her."

"When she lost the baby, she offered to leave. He would have none of it. His letters showed me the depth of his feelings. My mom loved him, too, but it was his idea to marry all along. I accused him of stealing her books and selling them. He did want the money, but he wanted her to have the recognition and acclaim her work deserved. An artist always questions whether he's good enough. He needs someone to give him a shove. Her name and money make my life possible. I'm pissed at him because she died. It makes no sense, but it's true." He exhaled and rubbed his face.

"My sisters and I pick at each other, but they always have my back. Move beyond the hurt, and start healing with your father. He needs you."

We hugged and rocked each other: comfort, sympathy, and solace.

We made lazy love till starvation won over, showered together, and went downstairs for lunch.

After eating, my head buzzed, and I plodded back upstairs. I needed rest or an IV drip of chocolate-dipped pickled jalapenos. Pregnancy ruled my food fetish.

My dreams continued my thoughts. The Cobb men hurled punches and vile words at each other. A lovely woman broke into the ugly scene and held out her hand to me. As soon as I touched her, we entered a grand house. Up the staircase, we spied a small boy in his room. He painted at an easel, concentrating intensely on a toy horse. The noble stallion in the picture wasn't poured into a plastic form, but of flesh and bone. Ebony in color, robust in build, the horse poised to run. In his mind, the boy and the horse had ridden back in time. Fought battles, saved castles, and had been king of the realm. They had gone west in search of adventure. Leading cattle drives, befriending mighty Indian warriors, scaling mountains. The boy glanced over his shoulder and beamed. I offered a smile to my beautiful guide and found myself alone. The boy waved, I waved back.

"Hi mom," he said.

I opened my eyes.

A son.

I was so screwed.

I laid there and rubbed my belly. Pregnancy: never alone, someone to talk to, and a wanted feeling like being constantly hugged.

Another Cobb male to be stirred in the mix. Another Benjamin. Benny? Jamin? B? They were right, what would I call him?

I dragged myself out of bed, snuck down to the library, and found the door ajar. The Cobb men sifted through museum blueprints. I heard them talking.

"Do you have all of her sketchbooks?" Ben asked.

"Yes, I've had people boxing things for a couple of weeks. I'll send what we have so far home with you. Alexia can handle it."

"We have to behave better in front of her. Let's call a truce for a while. Maybe bitch at each other through email. Keep our voices and fists down."

"Boy, are you head over heels or what? You'll let up on me to pacify her."

"Do we have a deal or not?" Ben asked with an icy voice.

"Did you make up proper with her?"

"We handled that this morning."

"May I help?" I asked as I opened the door and hoped Ben would spare his father all the details.

"Always," Mr. Cobb said.

Both men rose, and Ben tucked his arm around my waist. He kissed me on the temple.

We all sat and brainstormed about the museum. Color spectrums. Activities for children. Bookstore merchandise. Staffing needs. Security. We had our dinner brought to the library. I took notes and interjected my fair share. My yawns got their attention too.

"It's midnight already," Mr. Cobb said as he stretched and yawned himself.

My lids drooped, signaling my constant exhaustion. Ben came over and scooped me up. I didn't complain just snuggled in.

"Good night, children," his father said as we left.

Ben brought me upstairs and laid me on the bed. He started to undress me. I dozed and felt his hands on me. Even though I wanted to sleep, my body reacted. My breasts were already sensitive. Every touch made me tingle to my toes.

"Ben," I said in a quiet, but urging voice.

"We'll be quick I know you're tired."

We rode the wave together. Our bodies reverberated against each other. We smiled, kissed, and passed out.