Pestering Peyton

“Aww, the poor guy is exhausted. Can you carry him inside, Pey?” Bridget asked, looking into the back seat.

“I don’t need my sister carrying me inside, Mom!” Sean protested from the passenger seat.

“She’s talking about Watson, dummy,” his older sister pointed out, gesturing at the snoring beagle. Opening the door, she reached in to gently pick up the dog, who’d wiped himself out from the excitement of visiting Grandma’s house.

“Let me get the wheelchair out of the trunk, honey,” the concerned mother said, walking toward the connecting door to the house, where she hung up one of the dog’s retractable leashes.

Returning, she walked across the unusually wide open space in a portion of the garage. With Leonard no longer staying at the house, Bridget had taken to parking her car toward the middle of the three-car garage to better allow Sean to get in and out, especially when using his wheelchair. The teen's old sedan sat off to the side of the driveway for now, but would likely get moved into the mostly empty garage soon.

“I don’t need the damn chair.”

“There’s no need to get surly. We just need to be careful.”

“I’m sick and tired of being treated like I’m in bubble wrap,” Sean declared, crossing his arms while sitting on the edge of the seat. “I’m going to start walking on my own again, and that’s final.”

Sensing another of his increasing temper tantrums coming on, Bridget sighed in exasperation. She knew he hated the pampering and babying, but his setback two weeks ago proved they needed to be careful. Playing it safe allowed them to reach a point this coming week at which he could move a little more on his own.

“Fine,” the blonde-haired mother said, giving in. Holding up a hand, she returned to the house door, opening it to quietly ask Peyton to bring Sean’s cane. Of course, the teen pressed for additional freedoms. Primarily, he wanted to sleep in his own bedroom down in the basement.

“Not tonight. No, don’t even start,” Bridget warned. “You’ll stay in the master bedroom at least another night.”

Since his return to the emergency room, Sean had slept in the ground-floor master suite, with Bridget moving upstairs to one of the two guest rooms. Well, only one of the two bedrooms could be called a guest room, since the other had long been claimed as Lana’s bedroom-away-from-home, which she used for a few nights before returning to Arbor Corners several days ago. That left Bridget to stay in the guest room that had formerly been her son’s childhood bedroom before the renovations. While the bedroom and bathroom were much nicer, it wasn’t Sean’s private domain.

“I still say you should’ve hired a private nurse to deal with Mr. Complainer,” Peyton said, returning to the garage. She only half-teased her younger brother. “You walk all over those amateurs.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Your brother is correct there. I know that you’ve been avoiding the girls as much as possible, but you also missed a semi-suggestion along those lines during your couple of days in AC. When Zoey screwed up by revealing that we have a mother-in-law apartment above the garage, they pounced on the idea of live-in candy-stripers,” Bridget revealed, her face a mixture of amusement, concern, and horror. “Kizzy, Yolanda, and Saylor immediately had plans.”

“It got bad for about two days. It’s the reason Whitney broke up YoYo and Saylor as a pair,” Sean informed his shocked sister. “Of course, our bitchy heiress wanted her dad to hire a nurse away from the hospital. One of Mom’s regulars.”

“I believe her exact words were ‘A sexy nurse that my dad likely screwed while I was dying’ or something along those lines,” Bridget recalled. “It still wasn’t as embarrassing as when McKenzie Beal called up to ask about her daughter’s new living arrangements.”

"Oh, my gawd. The pest asked her mom?" Peyton asked, believing it possible, though not the girl's audacity.

“Mom found the best way to shut down the talk,” Sean teased, his mood lifting with a grin. “And you shouldn’t refer to your second-in-command as a pest. It’s not nice, Miss Tarver.”

“Yes, I told the Babybees that the room had to be left empty in case Brandy needed it.”

“Then, the questions shifted to whatever Dame Brandy needed; they’d help perform,” Sean added, chuckling.

“Wait, you can’t seriously be considering letting her stay up there, are you?” Peyton challenged, gesturing to the open wooden staircase that led to the second-story living quarters.

“Maybe. Without your father around for her to strangle, she is welcome to stay a night here or there if my sister needs a break from our parents,” Bridget confirmed, leading her daughter to shake her head in disagreement.

After watching Sean climb the pair of steps into the house from the garage and slowly make his way over to a stool at the kitchen island, Bridget asked about any pain. Despite his denials, the grimace on his face revealed the truth. The concerned mother immediately shushed her son down the hallway to her usual bedroom to take one of his painkillers.

“Aren’t you worried that he’s overdoing those pills?” Peyton questioned. “What if he starts to rely on them too much, especially with the increased dosage?”

“First off, I’m the person who usually has to make him take one. Or possibly Whitney. And I guess the little ones also pester him about his pain. Whatever,” Bridget said, waiving off the tangent she’d started down. “And the dosage increase that Dr. Polani prescribed after he fully fractured the second bone is over. Your grandmother stopped on the way back from the appointment on Friday with the prescription for a decreased amount.”

Backing off the argument over her brother’s prescriptions, the tense coed brought up another issue that gnawed at her.

“I’m sorry about dinner, Mom.”

“What do you mean? I thought it went fine.”

“I’m talking about Aunt Brandy. She knows better than to bring up that damn picture,” Peyton stated, glowering with anger at her wild aunt’s behavior.

“It wasn’t a big deal, Pey. No, I mean it.”

“It was! Bringing up a lie like that is what Aunt Bev would do to needle you. Everyone who knows you knows that you wouldn’t decide to get a divorce and then hop into bed a day or two later with the most notorious playboy in Honey Hollow!”

“Was that Jack Foscue in the picture with me? I could’ve sworn it looked like Harvey Diamond,” Bridget remarked whimsically.

“Mother! It’s not a joking matter,” Peyton admonished. “Think of your reputation. Think of the stuff that Sean must hear at school.”

“I think your brother has enough excitement around him that his mom’s reputation isn’t on his mind,” Bridget replied.

“No. He’s as worried about you as I am. It makes you look…”

“Slutty? Oh, well, there are worse ways to be viewed.” Bridget paused while her more uptight daughter gasped. “Honey, I once went by the nickname Bedsheets Bridget at Sean’s age. And despite your horror, and having a best friend like Lana, I earned that nickname. It doesn’t bother me too much. All I care about is losing patients who need me.”

“I…I don’t know how you can be so flippant about this,” Peyton responded, struggling to control the fury that she’d held inside for almost three weeks. “Brandy should never–”

"Brandy didn't bring up the picture to talk shit to me. No, I mean it, honey. I know my sisters, and Brandy and Bev are polar opposites," Bridget proclaimed. "If you never noticed before, my kid sister can often turn into a chatterbox when she's worried, and Brandy is worried right now. Not about me, but Harvey. She's always looked up to him as her big brother, and his illegal issues are lingering too long for her nerves."

“Chatterbox when she’s worried? Mom, Brandy runs her mouth all the time!”

“And so does Tinny. It’s in their makeup. So, cut your aunt some slack, okay?” Bridget pleaded. “Something is going on with her. I know when Dee is up to something, and so does your grandmother.”

“Mother–”

“Don’t mother me. You’re just pissed at her still for the dance-off at the ball,” Bridget guessed correctly. “Which, I might add, the rest of your family and friends found to be wonderful and terribly needed.”

“Then why don’t you have her set you up for one?” the studious blonde mumbled.

“I’d actually love it, but I already have enough friends turning into Lacey at the moment,” the buxom blonde noted, chuckling. “Now, speaking of matchmaking, I want you to focus on your own at school. No, don’t give me that glare. You’re not to sit around Zurbrugg, moping over the divorce or my love life. I want you to live your own romances. Have a good time, drink a few beers, kiss a few boys, suck or fuck–”

“Mother!”

“Good lord, you’re even starting to sound like Bev,” Bridget lied, seeking to trigger her daughter, and it worked.

“I am in no such way like that selfish, self-centered, controlling shrew of a–”

“Relax. I’m only teasing…mostly,” the playful doctor said. “However, I did talk to Lana about–”

“Please no.”

“Along with Zaylie and Merry. I stressed to all three that you need to have a little fun at school,” Bridget continued. “Maybe take Eoin out for a test drive. Or perhaps take a road trip down to Breakwater. I wouldn’t be opposed to a dirty Romeo and Juliet affair with you and Reece Kittle. Don’t give me that look. I could suggest finally spreading your legs for Vance Vandermeer.”

“No, just no.”

“I’m warning you, Miss Tarver. Either live a little this semester, or I’ll be **** to use one of the two nuclear options.”

“Don’t even think of dispatching Lacey to play matchmaker, Mom. I’m warning you,” Peyton responded, guessing one of the two options correctly.

“And I’m straight-up threatening you. If not, I’ll send Brandy up there to get you drunk and laid. Oooorrrrr, I’ll call Tin and have her send Nate back for a long weekend,” Bridget finished.

“Damn you,” the aspiring medical student grumbled.

“I don’t want you driving back here for several weeks. Messages or calls are enough to check up on us. Hey, I might even make a weekend trip to your neck of the woods to visit my own friends next month.” Then, glancing at the clock, Bridget noted, “He’s been quiet for too long. I’d better conduct a well-being check.”

On the way out of the kitchen, the older blonde stopped to place a blanket over Watson, where he snored in one of his four dog beds scattered around the levels of the home. With her mom busy, Peyton rapidly typed a message off to her female best friend, vowing to make her life a living hell if she sandbagged her upon returning with a list of one-night stand options. Hearing her mother’s footsteps returning, the younger blonde lazily inquired about her brother’s health.

"Give me that," Bridget ordered, holding out her hand for the cell phone. While Peyton handed her phone over, she argued against countermanding her orders to Lana. "I'm not messaging her. Your brother is experiencing early signs of another side effect."

“Eww! Don’t tell me that.” Then, another thought hit her. “Who are you messaging with my phone?”

“Lacey.”

“Ohmigawd! You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not asking Lacey to come over to relieve Sean’s pressure. That’s not happening. She’s too much of a good girl for that duty,” Bridget declared.

“Duty? You make it sound like…something…I don’t know.”

“Like a medical procedure? Hmm, that’s a good way to put it,” Bridget mused, tapping her chin. “Do you want to hop into my bedroom and get experience with this type of bedside care?”

“Oh. My. Gawd! You did not just suggest that, Mother,” Peyton said, beginning with a scandalized expression, and a shocked voice that transformed by the end into a growl. “That’s sick.”

“And here I thought you felt guilty about leaving your injured brother while returning to college. I guess you don’t love him enough,” Bridget teased.

“You’d better never, ever suggest that around Lana. I’d never hear the end of it,” Peyton pointed out. “Wait, do you ask Lana to help? That’s good. I wouldn’t want her to…Eww! Have you ever helped Sean?”

“It hasn’t seemed necessary. Your brother has so many willing helpers,” Bridget replied, nodding as a reply message came in. “Okay. That’s been handled.”

“Wait, why did you message Lacey with my phone precisely?” the younger blonde asked with a heavily suspicious expression.

“Well, I don’t trust my phone or the houseline. I considered using the burner phone that your grandfather picked up for me. No, let me finish. However, that felt pointless. Lacey and I are already using code words, so it felt easier to have her pass Sean’s need onto the Whitney through our code.”

“You’re using secret messages to get Sean laid?!”

“I don’t know if he requires a full fuck. You could ask him if you need to know that badly. Although I’d recommend knocking first,” Bridget suggested, continuing to provoke her soon-to-leave-daughter for fun. “Frankly, I think your brother is good for only a handjob or blowjob.”

“At this rate, I won’t return until the end of the semester,” the college junior mumbled.

Despite her mood, Peyton agreed to Bridget’s idea to watch a show or two in the family room. Almost thirty-five minutes and nearly two-thirds of the way into an episode of Papplewick, a steamy British historical romance, flashing headlights alerted them to the arrival of a guest. Any doubt vanished when the arrival typed in the code on the garage door keypad.

“Thank you for coming, honey,” Bridget greeted, hugging a raincoat-wearing Whitney.

Peyton watched in puzzlement as the two blondes held the hug for far longer than necessary. Hmph! Must be a cheerleader thing.

“Isn’t it cold for a raincoat?” the non-high school cheerleader challenged.

“I have a winter coat,” Whitney revealed, pointing to the coat and two large bags. “And this is for when it gets hot.”

“Geez, how long are you planning to stay?”

"Since you're leaving, Pey, Sean and I are planning to frolic nude around the house like a pair of newlyweds," the sassy queen bee shot back, causing the big sister to frown while turning back to the TV.

“Did you have any trouble?” Bridget asked, accepting the letter that her miniature version slyly handed over after Peyton turned away.

“I absconded from the manor in Frida’s carriage. It turns out the chef is an excellent smuggler,” Whitney explained, glancing over at the historical romance on the television screen for inspiration. “I ducked down to hide from any watching bounty hunters.”

“How goes the home life?” the concerned doctor asked.

"Quieting down somewhat. Uncle Larry left for Zurbrugg on Friday morning. Dad warned Valeria not to clean up the cluttered mess in the library, but she refused to follow his orders. The vacuum started up when he was in the shower," Whitney revealed, referring to Larry Lufflutz. One of her father's oldest and closest childhood friends, the absentminded history professor had camped out in the mansion's library for the past three weeks to prepare for his spring courses. "I mean, it was a mess, but Larry has his own way of working."

“And Finn’s father?”

“Dad doesn’t think this outpatient program is working out. He’s not sure whether Fred’s drinking or not. Finn is leaving the decision up to them and his aunt to decide what happens next,” Whitney relayed. “It might be time to push him into an inpatient treatment center. But the Gettingers own an isolated rustic cabin past Moose Point. Sybil has suggested several times that they just drop her brother off there to dry out while stranded. I don’t know about that. Uncle Fred might freeze to **** while searching for the nearest bar.”

“Oh, your poor father,” Bridget cried, placing a hand over her heart in sympathy.

“I think he misses these more than Larry leaving,” the mischievous heiress whispered, meaning the older blonde’s large breasts.

“What about Audie? I know my parents have had dinner with him a few times already,’ Bridget added, causing the eighteen-year-old to roll her eyes.

“We have no clue as to Uncle Audie’s plans, if he even knows himself.”

A twice-divorced artist approaching seventy, Audie Raffel might not be an actual uncle to the Whitney or Harvey, but he was flesh and blood. A cousin of Hannibal and Demi Diamond on their mother’s side, Audie didn’t care for Harvey’s father, but he’d been close since childhood with his other cousin. Never interested in business, he still managed to gain a grudge from Hannibal after his father offered his wife’s nephew a role in Diamond Chemical, which had been the name of the family company at the time.

Preferring the life of a struggling artist, Audie relocated to Fountain Beach during its more eccentric days. Almost like a sibling to Demi, Audie dropped everything when she asked him to check up on her favorite nephew after his arrest. The artist’s surprised appearance nearly three weeks ago hadn’t necessarily shocked anyone. He tended to have a habit of appearing and vanishing at the blink of an eye.

“Still, it’s nice to see that your father has one relative who cared enough to show up,” Bridget noted, aware of the Diamond brothers’ poor relationship with their parents.

“Oh, Aunt Demi is calling nonstop for updates. I think she’d threatened to send one of her daughters if it gets worse,” Whitney relayed.

“Dinah. That’s probably who,” Bridget speculated. Her parents maintained a close friendship with Demi Roca, despite the latter living in Breezy Bay for over four decades. “So is Audie painting all day?”

“Valeria banished him to the pool house because of the fumes.”

Peyton snorted at the teen’s tone. She’d seen the huge pool house at Diamond Manor a couple of times. It wasn’t anything to sneeze at.

“Dad thinks that Uncle Audie is waiting until Aunt Demi tells him he can leave, but I don’t know. He’s loving a new field of muses to paint. Larry attempted to warn him that he couldn’t bring any strangers onto the property because of privacy concerns with the case and that Stinging Truth bullshit,” Whitney explained.

“I bet that was an entertaining conversation,” Bridget remarked, giggling.

"Mr. Absentminded Professor vs. Mr. Flaky Artist. I think Fred managed to go a few hours without craving a drink based on his retelling of the confrontation to anyone who'd listen," Whitney recounted. "Uncle Graham has been rounding up models for him. We're talking Diamond Corp employees, mutual friends, and even some college students on break. Graham had to warn Audie not to ask any of my friends to pose. At his age, he's not the best at realizing ages, and the Babybees have been around more. I think Lacey rolling on the floor in a giggling fit over being asked was the final straw."

“Oh, my.”

“What’s the big deal?” Peyton called over, watching her mother’s amusement.

“Let’s just say that Uncle Audie has a mix of projects that he likes to work on. However, his favorites are tastefully done nude portraits and sculptures,” Whitney revealed, causing the coed’s face to turn up in disgust. “You know, I bet a gorgeous professional newly on the market might make a special man or two’s desires come true with a portrait, Doc. What do you say, wanna hang on a wall in a den or study of somebody I know?”

“Lana hasn’t met this distant uncle, has she?” Peyton asked, with a suddenly alarmed expression. “Hasn’t she?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, gawd, no. Oh, crap, she’s been teasing about a special surprise for my bedroom wall for over a week. She posed, didn’t she?” the panicked coed demanded to know. “Shit!”

“I’d better be off. I don’t want our Dr. Sean to get sore,” Whitney announced, as Peyton typed messages to her other housemates for any confirmation about her bedroom.

“I’m sure he’ll love the surprise under that raincoat,” Bridget remarked, winking.

While Peyton switched to making phone calls to Arbor Corners, Whitney disappeared down the hall after learning that Sean still slept in the master bedroom. Amused by how her daughter didn’t resemble her at all and how much Harvey’s did, Bridget waited to hear how her son reacted to her medical expert’s arrival. The experienced seductress imagined that she could hear the raincoat dropping into a pile on the hardwood floor.

“Soft?! How are you soft?”

One side of the conversation echoed down the hallway, leaving Bridget to wonder if she should laugh or cry. Peyton appeared more scandalized by Whitney’s shouting.

“What do you mean that you took care of it yourself? You selfish prick! I came all the way over here…You used porn? Oh. My. Fucking. Gawd! Asshole, Jerkface”

The stomping footsteps heralded Whitney’s return to the kitchen. The doctor smirked with pride upon seeing the skimpy, white lace bra and panties that the current cheerleader captain wore. Not only did the minuscule coverage showcase the tanned blonde’s flawless, tight skin and toned curves, but the barely there bra flaunted the queen bee’s D-cups. The topper to the lingerie was the two tiny red bows on the sides of the white bra and panties, and the white-and-red hat on her head. To Bridget and the shocked Peyton, they clearly implied a sexy nurse vibe.

“Where’s Watson?”

“I’m truly sorry, honey. I didn’t think he’d rub one out himself. That’s not like Sean,” Bridget apologized. “If I’d known the need to be that urgent, I would’ve insisted that Pey help out.”

“Eww, Mom! Don’t tell her that,” Peyton squealed until she noticed the teen bombshell’s expression. “Why are you smirking? I’d never do that…and put on some damn clothes.”

Bridget shot her younger self a warning. She understood Whitney’s amusement, since the Diamond heiress had recently observed the mother relieve her son’s pressure during the previous week.

“I am sorry,” Bridget repeated.

“Eh, it’s not that big of a deal. I needed to come over tomorrow anyway for Dr. Sean’s next appointment,” Whitney replied, shrugging until she noticed the sleeping Watson. “Aww, doesn’t he look adorable with the blanket. I thought he could stay with us, since I’m not getting lucky, but I can’t disturb the little guy.”

“If he wants inside later, he’ll let you know,” Bridget said, knowing from experience. Still, she’d keep the guest bedroom door open a crack upstairs for the beagle. “Do you want to join us? After you throw on a robe or pajamas.”

Bridget added the last suggestion after seeing Peyton’s head jerk over.

“Sure, I don’t mind catching up on Papplewick,” Whitney responded, leaving the kitchen to get dressed. Once back in the doorway of the master suite, they could hear her ask, “Hold up. What type of porn did you use?”