Enter the Ravers

"Wes, stop staring at my mom's ass."

"Wh--bu--not, I'm not," denied Wesley, although he might admit to a glance or two as she walked away. It's not like nearly every guest did the exact same thing as Fiona crossed the foyer toward the parlor. He felt more awkwardness at seeing Rylee's horrified look, leading him to hide his face behind the glass of soda he drank.

"Don't be mean to our friends. Focus instead on your hosting duties," Grace admonished Fletcher, shaking her head at both her male friends.

"Did someone just hear a series of beeps? Anyone?" he responded, looking all around in a fake attempt to find the source, "Whoa, Artoo, where did you come from? Don't sneak around like that, little buddy; it's not good for my heart."

"Artoo?" Wesley repeated in confusion. Rylee's eyes widened as she saw Grace's face.

"Yes, Grace has decided--for what reason I don't know--to cosplay as R2-D2 for the evening. As you can see, she's wearing white to match his droid body, yet chickened out at the last second on dying her hair blue. Seems like a half-ass costume if you ask me."

"If you will not take tonight serious, I will go tell your mother," threatened his best friend, giving the impression of steam rising from her fury.

"Fine, like I care."

"I will tell her."

"Go right ahead."

"I'm going to right now."

"No one here's stopping you."

Stamping her foot into the floor, Grace spun around and marched off toward Fiona. Fletcher watched as the brunette slowed down, realizing that guests had surrounded his mother. With a chuckle, he turned his attention back to his other two friends.

"Why did you do that?" questioned Wesley.

"That was mean," Rylee added in her soft, quiet voice.

"My friends, you misunderstand me," Fletcher responded, slapping his hand over his chest. "If she had her way, Grace would hide behind me all night. This way, she at least gets out and mingles until she calms down." And stops pestering me to talk to all these insufferable relatives.

"Young Fletcher, it's been a long, long time," greeted an elderly man, from about ten feet away as he walked over, his hand already twitching in preparation of the incoming handshake.

"Ah, yes, it has. Since...I was a boy, I think," the teenager struggled to recall any such meeting. Who the hell is this old fart? Turning his head slightly, Fletcher glanced at the girl to his side for the name, only to see Rylee, not Grace and her guest database. Dammit, I screwed up, didn't I?

---

"Alright, you shouldn't have more than five or six carloads to ferry here from the cabin," Robert reminded his driver for the fifth time today, his mind consumed with thoughts of Wynwick Lodge. The two men stood next to the limousine as Heather and Chastity walked toward the front doors.

"Yes, that's fine, sir."

"I'm not sure how long we will stay tonight, or if we'll sleep at the cabin or head home," Robert added for the seventh time to Dave. "Will you be okay at the cabin?"

"Sure, boss. I plan to have dinner out in the bunkhouse while listening to the game on the radio," Dave revealed.

"The bunkhouse? Dave, you know I don't mind if you make yourself at home in the cabin. You can have whatever you like out of the fridge. And you can watch the baseball game on the TV."

"That's alright, Mr. Ravers. I like listening to the radio feed," Dave replied, opening the front passenger door to reveal a small cooler on the floor. "And I have a sandwich and chips packed already."

"Whatever makes you happy, Dave," his employer said, slapping him on the shoulder. "I'll call with a heads up about our plans later."

"Very well, sir. And have a good time. I know how much this means to you."

Robert nodded in response, turning to see his daughter impatiently waiting for him outside the door. Joining them, he took a deep breath. After close to thirty-five years, this is it.

A rush of excitement hit Robert's body as he crossed the threshold into the lodge. His body tingled all over, causing butterflies in his stomach. A feeling he couldn't recall the last time it occurred. Like a child first entering Disneyland, Robert's eyes swung up and around, marveling in every detail.

A hush descended over the foyer. One that cascaded out in opposites directions toward the library and parlor as other guests noticed who had caused the silence. A Ravers had entered enemy territory. The eerie silence continued with Robert either not noticing or not caring as he studied the craftsmanship near the cathedral ceiling.

"Uh, do you have anything to check-in?" asked a nervous voice off to their right side.

Heather, amused at the room's reaction to their entrance, turned to see a young woman, likely a college student home for the summer. She stood in front of the nearly empty coatroom, rattled by the sudden silence.

"In this weather, would do you think?" The girl nodded, her nervousness morphing into a worried countenance. "I wouldn't worry about making enough in tips. The way Fletcher Wynwick seems to be throwing around money of late, I'm certain he'll toss some extra your way."

The click-clacking of a pair of stilettos cut through the silence of the lodge. The owner of the high heels wore a welcoming smile as she approached the interlopers.

"Robert, it's a pleasure to see you again. Welcome to Wynwick Lodge," Fiona greeted the Hatfield to her McCoy, adding a quick kiss to each of his cheeks. Her words and actions sent the rooms into a chattering of astonished, aggrieved whispering. "How are you doing?"

"A little overcome, to be honest," he admitted before making introductions. "Fiona, you remember my daughter, Heather."

"Of course. You've grown up into such a beautiful young woman, Heather. It seems like yesterday that you and my Fletcher were bickering on the first day of kindergarten," Fiona added with a grin.

"Thank you," gritted Heather through her teeth, planning to say no more until she felt her father's annoyance at her side. "And thank you for your invitation."

"Oh, that's all on Fletcher. I'm not sure why he sent you a separate invitation, but he's been acting most mysterious with some of his decisions for tonight."

"And, Fiona, I would like to present my...plus-one for the evening: Chastity Kupp," Robert acknowledged the young woman at his side.

"By Merlin's beard, Miss Fiona--I mean Miss Wickwyn, I mean--"

"Nice to meet you too, Chastity," Fiona interrupted, recognizing the combination of awe and excitement in her.

"I mean, wowzers! It's like a castle! And you look like a princess," gushed the honey blonde, bouncing her feet on her slingback heels.

"Why, thank you, Chastity. Ah, you're Faith's daughter, right?" Fiona inquired, putting together clues of her name, appearance, and personality.

"How did you know?" the ditzy blonde asked, her eyes growing big in surprise.

"Well, dear, you remind me very much of your mother."

"What, no Leah?" questioned a voice out of nowhere.

"Fletch! You've down a magnificent job with what I've seen so far," Robert received the teenager's arrival with welcoming excitement, and a handshake/hug.

What the hell is this? Fletch? Fletch! Why is Dad so friendly with the brat? He's fucking the mother, and friendly with the son? Heather wondered, beginning to fume as she realized there might be more going on here with her father and the Wynwicks.

"No, Leah's out of town. So, I brought my receptionist, Chastity Kupp," Robert informed the teen. "Chastity's a third-generation employee at Ravers Enterprises. The only non-family member that can ever claim that honor."

"Miss Kupp, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Fletcher addressed her formally. The young heartthrob bent over, taking the blonde's hand in his own and gently placing a kiss on the top of it. The action earned a giggle from Chastity and a perturbed glare from Heather. "I hope you find your stay at Wynwick Lodge to be a memorable one."

"You...are the luckiest man in the world," she responded in awe.

"And if you are the beauty of the sun, then I am indeed fortunate, for I see the beauty of the moon at your side," Fletcher laid it on thick, shifting his body to greet Heather. Reaching his hand out, he attempted to repeat his previous action by kissing the brunette's hand, but Heather snatched it back from him.

"Don't touch me, Wynwick," she hissed.

"Heather!" gasped her mortified father.

"I mean, it's probably not a smart idea with all these flu germs around town," Heather hastily added, feeling a tad guilty for embarrassing her father.

"Yes, that wicked flu," Fletcher agreed, but with a wink at his rival.

"Perhaps once most of our guests arrive, myself or Fletcher can give you a private tour, Robert. And, of course, your daughter and guest are welcome to join us," Fiona suggested.

"Why not now? We know Rob--Mr. Ravers has been waiting a lifetime for this moment," Fletcher further suggested.

"I think not, young man. You have host duties to perform," his mother reminded him. "And I've just been informed that you have been shirking from them so far."

Seeing Grace watching them with a satisfied smile, Fletcher's shoulders slumped. "Fine, Mother."

Heather's mood brightened as she watched his sink. Glancing over, she saw Grace, acknowledging her presence with a nod.

"Well, most of our early guests are milling around in the parlor and library," Fiona informed the trio, pausing and blushing somewhat at the last room she mentioned. "I think maybe you'll find a few friendly faces in the parlor, Robert."

Robert understood her meaning, feeling the continued stares of her relatives still watching them in anger.

"You'll find the catering staff all over the first floor with hors d'oeuvres and drinks. If you prefer a specific drink, there's bar just there in the billiards room, and a much larger one in the drawing-room--"

"Great room," Fletcher interrupted his mother. "I'm calling it the great room from now on. Drawing room sounds so stuffy and pretentious."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, it's just the name of a room," Heather spat out in annoyance, unable to contain her building displeasure at having to be at the party.

"That's enough, Heather. I can understand Fletcher wanting to make his mark on his ownership of the lodge. I think someday you will too when you take over Ravers Enterprises and wish to rename portions of it."

"Hrmph! I doubt I'll ever do the same thing as him."

"As I was saying," Fiona continued, unfazed by the outbursts. "The drawing room/great room is where you'll find the dance floor and music. Anyone interested in dinner will find it in the dining room behind us at sundown."

"Thank you, Fiona and Fletcher. I look forward greatly to the tour, but I don't want to keep you from your other guests," Robert said with a nod to each.

"I don't think any of your crew is here yet, Heather. But some others from school are around, mostly in the great room," Fletcher added as his mother dragged him off to greet more people he cared not to meet.

"That sounds like a good idea, pumpkin. Maybe you and Chastity can go have some fun while I do the boring part for a little while," Robert suggested. "See if any of your school friends are here. Also, start behaving. This lodge is a powder keg of decades of resentment. Don't light the match for a silly reason."

"Fine, Dad," groaned his daughter, sounding like an annoyed teenager. "Come on, Chastity, let's go find some people to have fun."

"Okey dokey!"

It's for the best to keep them out of the firing line. It's a matter of when not if. Over a century of bad blood leads to dumb people doing dumber things.

Ignoring the stares and whispers, Robert saw a group of local government officials milling around, clearly uncomfortable about the earlier silence. He noticed a complete lack of Azure Rocks officials as most of these men and women were from the smaller towns and villages in the area. Any ambitious politicians should be working the room for future support or donations as Robert noted several state representatives and the city's state senator did. The group huddled together were either the unambitious, officials more concerned about performing their duties, or those who took their shot are further glory and failed.

Robert spent nearly twenty minutes talking to this group. The chairman of Blue Creek's town board proved as stupid and annoying as he remembered. Luckily the village president of Yellowleaf, the village on the other side of Silver Lake Park, ate up half Robert's time. A woman in her sixties, she held no problems holding back her feelings on any matter. Robert always enjoyed talking to her, listening to tales of long ago from both Silver Lake and the region. Promising to talk more with her later, he knew he needed to speak to several business leaders that appeared miffed at his not seeking them out first.

Making his way to a couple of them in a conversation with the local chamber of commerce president, Robert found his path suddenly blocked. A thin, wiry man with silver streaks running through his gray hair stood before him. Robert knew then man to be about a decade older than him, and a prominent businessman from the province he resided.

"You have a lot of nerve to walk into a Wynwick home, Ravers. And for it to be the lodge of all places, shows you've gotten too big for your britches."

"Hello, Ancel," Robert acknowledged. "I would say it's nice to see you again, but fortunately for me, we've never met before. I once met your father, a meeting that proved rather underwhelming."

"Don't you dare speak of my father, Ravers," Ancel Wynwick, the head of the Canadian branch of Wynwicks, hissed at him. "He was a great man; you're nothing compared to him."

"Funny, I seem to recall my grandfather having great success that one time they held rival business interests in the Rockies," Robert pointed out, ignoring the fact that his father later botched that business interest.

"You mention my father again, and we might have to relive the past. Perhaps a trip to the library will remind you of what we do to an uppity Wynwick," Ancel threatened.

"Now, that's another funny thing to mention. I recall your branch had already been banished to the wilderness when that occurred. But by all means, if you want to reenact the past, we can make a quick pitstop in the billiards room first. I'll even let you play the main role in there," Robert joked in a steely voice that matched his determination.

"You dare mock our family when your mere presence here is a slap in the face to us and our ancestors?" challenged one of Ancel's cousins.

"I see Wynwicks from Azure Rocks, Mountain Falls, Emerald Shores, the Rocky Mountains, and Canada. One hell of a family reunion, I must say," Robert commented after rattling off all the family branches. "That's an abundance of slapping, so if you don't mind, I'll wait for my brother and nephew to arrive. We can divvy up the slaps between us."

"More?! There are more Raverses setting foot in our lodge," hissed a Wynwick in the back. "What has happened to our family? This is an abomination!"

Robert could feel the mood around him growing more uneasy as several of the Canadians stepped closer to him, forming a semicircle around his spot.

"Robert, daring, you lead a lady to wonder if you don't like her anymore when you take so long to say hello," a striking blonde commented as she slid up to his side.

"My sincerest apologies, Sela. If I had known you were nearby, I would have visited you first," Robert responded as the buxom blonde gave air kisses to each of his cheeks. Her sudden effort to diffuse the situation surprised him. Considering that Sela's spent most of our lives acting like I'm invisible, I have to wonder if Fiona or another person put her up to this, although there was that one party when we younger, the one where she seemed intrigued by my flirting before walking away.

"Apology accepted. Now, I've got a few sorority sisters visiting from out of town. They're dying to be introduced to a handsome bachelor like yourself," Sela revealed, taking Robert's arm and turning him away from her distant relatives. "Come, they're this way."

Murmured insults reached the departing duo's ears. "Slut like her sister," could be heard loudly. Along with a "He'll get what he deserves come sundown." But the insult "Another two-faced Thirlby" caused an unexpected reaction.

Sela stopped on a dime, spinning around on her high heels to face her shirttail relatives. Her eyes sought out the woman standing next to Ancel, who made the last remark.

"Two-faced Thirlby, Agnes? Let me remind you that I am a true Wynwick. Not a member of a loser branch that ran away with their tail between their legs out into the boondocks all those years ago."

"How dare you speak to us that way?" Agnes Wynwick-Walby, sister of Ancel, shrieked back. "This is our home, not yours."

"It was until my nephew won it from your fool of an uncle."

"That little bastard took advantage of an elderly man that had too much to drink," a younger man spat back. Some son or nephew of Ancel or Agnes, but Sela could care less about his name.

"My seventeen-year-old nephew took advantage of a grown man? Please. If anything, you vultures tried everything and anything to stop him from taking ownership. Or did you forget your lawsuit that got tossed out of court immediately?" Sela inquired gleefully.

"You'll get your comeuppance, and soon, Thirlby. We've never forgotten what your husband's family did to us all those years ago. And we won't forget what your bastard nephew did to Uncle Peabody," Ancel promised with venom in his voice.

"Peabody got what he deserved," Sela snapped back. "And I've never forgotten that it was your father pressuring Peabody not to sell, that resulted in my father's **** in a plane crash. His blood, along with my uncle's and cousin's, will always be on the hands of your family branch."

Robert watched as Sela's words quieted the angry mob. Swinging back around, she reattached her arm to his, resuming their walk, but not without a parting shot over her shoulder.

"And you're here as a guest of my nephew. Enjoy your view of the lodge restored to its former glory. It's the last time you'll ever see it again. 'The little bastard' will make sure of it."