The idea of going to Robert's funeral sounded ridiculous to Taylor.
Grace hated the man. She hated how he treated her and the rest of the world, even the staff. She hated his partially unethical business decisions and loathed his cowardly behaviour. She had been done with him months before, swearing to never step foot into his life again. While that life was technically over, Taylor felt it still applied.
Grace leaned her elbow against the counter as she spoke to Eleanor first, it sounded like the easier of the two calls she had taken it upon herself to make to her siblings. Michael's needed more delicacy, and while Taylor gently rubbed her back as she spoke to the younger woman on the phone, she made it clear that she was against Grace reinserting herself into the world of fake smiles and posh polite greetings. She was against it for all the reasons she should have been, the potential for relapse, the concern that Grace would get her foot stuck in a door that couldn't be shut again.
Eleanor was undecided about going to the funeral when Grace mentioned that it would likely be that Friday. She had lost her mother quite some time before and that had hurt terribly, but she didn't know Robert. No one really knew Robert Kent, the esteemed billionaire that quite frankly, no one enjoyed the presence of but would never dare to admit.
Her call to Michael was different. She didn't cry at all about it, it was more of a relief than anything but she did feel emotion swirl in her chest as she listened to the dial tone. Taylor had abandoned the cookies on the counter for the time being, they would still eat them even if the dough was a little dry by the time they got into the oven.
"Can you take a seat?" Grace asked. He was probably at work but it was always better to hear something first hand than through the gossip column or on the front page of some British newspaper with nothing better to report on than what Grace and Charlie used to eat on their planned outings for the press.
"What's wrong?" The older twin asked as he pulled his gloves off and headed to his pickup truck for some privacy. The door of the vehicle slammed shut and Grace waited for it before she went to speak, "Grace, you still there? It's our last day before we shut down for the winter, I don't have a ton of time."
"Robert's dead," she blurted out with urgency, "Suspected heart attack."
"Shit," the contractor muttered under his breath, "Who called?"
"William, he wanted to know if you were still at the same number. He may try to contact you."
"He hasn't yet. Alright, well... yeah," there were no right words to say. Michael hadn't seen him in years and he hadn't felt a thing except anger towards him since long before then.
"Will you go with me to the funeral?" Grace asked and Taylor's hand pulled away from her back and went she washed her hands to go back to rolling out the cookie dough. Grace knew that was her quiet protest, there was too much power to the tap shutting off for their not to be some passive aggressiveness poorly hidden behind it.
"No way," Michael almost laughed, "No. Nope. I'm not stepping foot in that country ever again. Gracie could marry the next in line for the throne and she'd have to get some other guy to walk her down the aisle. Not happening, sorry."
"Please," Grace asked quietly, "I need to see for myself that he is dead. I- Michael, I need the closure. You've had seven and a half years to get over that life but I still have battle wounds and I would feel so much better if you went with me. If we could both close that door at the same time, this time. The last funeral I went to was yours."
"Taylor's actually letting you go the funeral? I think it's a terrible idea."
"Taylor is my partner, not my jail keeper. We will discuss it like adults."
"You shouldn't go!" Taylor said loud enough for Michael to hear it. Grace glared at her girlfriend and gave her a dismissive wave which Taylor crinkled her nose up about and muttered something to herself quietly.
"Sounds like it," Michael sighed, "Let me think about it and talk to Amber. If she's willing to go... I'll consider it but I'm not going there without her and I make no promises."
"And you're okay?"
"It's been a long time," he said and then added, "How are you?"
"Strangely... at peace."
"I believe it."
When Grace hung up after saying goodbye, Taylor looked at her and sighed. She knew they were about to fight, it was a palpable feeling in the air. Taylor just had that body language that showed frustration and her eyes contributed to it by avoiding Grace's face.
"I think it's a really bad idea for you to go," Taylor started to explain as she put the cookies into the oven, "And selfishly, I don't want you to."
"It is a bad idea for me to go," Grace could agree to that. She knew it was, she wasn't even sure they would let her into the funeral, "But I need the closure."
"Closure from what? You got your closure when you had that press conference, did you not?" Taylor wanted to understand but she couldn't. Why would Grace ever want to step foot anywhere near that man or his body every again? It made no sense to her, Grace didn't seen them as family, Taylor had known that as long as she'd known Grace so there was no love to be lost.
"From him driving my brother out the door, from him causing me to hide who I am for years. For telling my all of my cages were mental so I shoved them into a box and stored it away only for it to come out and be ten times worse, my potential was wasted. For hitting me when he couldn't come up with a word to tear me apart. Is that not something that needs closure?" The former heiress blinked away the first tears to develop in her eyes, "I'm trying to do everything right, this is me trying to move on. He is the reason that my words shoot to kill when I'm mad and I want to leave him behind. I want to see that he's gone so I can leave him there."
Taylor felt her fists ball up right when Grace described the lasting impact that her father had made on her but one thing stood out, "He hit you?"
"Sometimes," Grace had forgotten that she kept that to herself. That was information few were privy to, "My mother and I. Nothing scared him like a woman smarter than he was and sometimes when I challenged him, he would open his palm and slap me in the face."
Grace gently opened her hand and slowly reenacted the way he would strike her by placing it her hand so softly on Taylor's cheek. The blonde looked like she was processing but was frozen until she gulped.
"Sometimes he would shove me into the wall," the brunette added, "But it wasn't often that he did either."
"Doesn't matter if it was once or every day," Taylor pulled her into a hug and Grace settled against her shoulder. She was grateful for the comfort, "I still don't want you to go. I'm worried about how this will go with your sobriety and you're not exactly a friend of the other guests anymore."
"If Michael is willing to go with me then I'm going to attend," Grace told her because she had made up her mind, "It would mean the world to me if you would accompany me, however, I understand that given your stance you may not want to."
"If he is willing to go, I'll go too. But you have to get Parker to agree to work security while we're there, he's the only one that I trust knows the crowd."
"I think I could make that happen."
On Friday morning, Grace, Taylor, Michael, Amber and Eleanor were accompanied by Parker in his best suit to the funeral. They wore black but they were not truly mourning. Funerals are not for the dead, but for the living.
Taylor had to be in London for a performance that week anyways, so she was reluctant to agree to go with Grace. She was too concerned about what would transpire if she did not go with her to allow her pride to stand in the way.
"I cannot believe you convinced me to come back here," Michael huffed as Amber straightened his tie. He hated wearing suits, he hated talking about the past, "What if Jennifer shows up? Am I supposed to be like hi mum, long time no see? Sounds like a great plan, Grace. Let's all show up to the funeral of the devil in our best dress and see who has a panic attack first."
"I would be surprised if she is not there, the divorce was not final," Grace said as they started to walk towards the church. Robert had kept up claims he lived as a devout Catholic despite never going to church, Grace was pretty sure the holy water would burn him if he tried.
They were handed a program at the door and were surprised that there were not as many people as they had expected were in attendance. He was an unliked man on the side of the living, but as a dead man he wasn't worth trying to keep in good graces.
"That row right there," Parker pointed to an empty wooden pew in the middle for them to sit. The church smelled musty and gross. He took a seat next to Grace on the end after scanning the room, he was good at recognizing faces even after stepping away for quite some time. No one seemed like a threat except one.
"Michael," William put his hand on his shoulder from behind, "It has been a long time, brother."
"You do not get to call me that," he took William's hand from his shoulder and twisted his fingers as revenge. A warning to stay away.
"I will ask you to step away from them," Parker was on his feet quickly, ushering William away at once. The heir to the fortune backed off but gave Eleanor a small wave, he hadn't met her.
"Thank you," Grace said to him as he straightened his jacket to sit back down as though nothing happened.
"I've always hated him," Parker murmured as he leaned towards her ear, "Look at the guy walking on the right. He looks like jolly Santa, bouncy."
He was correct, that guy did walk like Santa Claus after a few too many cups of cocoa. It made Grace laugh softly, covering her mouth to not be impolite as the noise drew some eyes towards them.
At the quiet sound of Grace's laugh, Taylor reached for her hand and clasped her own around it. Things had been a little tense, Taylor was adamant that she thought it wasn't something they should do but she still supported Grace's decision as best as she could.
Next to them, Amber was listening as Michael pointed out the many ghosts and ghouls of his childhood. Including Cassandra, the girl he was supposed to marry. She and the rest of their former so-called friends were a few rows up, pretending to care to stay in their own parents good books.
That's how it worked, if the parents weren't happy, the cards didn't work and no one wanted to get cut off. That meant putting on their big boy pants and getting a job. The horror!
"I hate this for you," Amber told her husband. They were both regretting the trip to England. Everyone kept looking at Michael like he was a ghost because for many he was. He had been 'dead' for years, forgotten by some and so out of place with his tired, calloused hands and broad shoulders that made his suit jacket sit a little funny.
"It can only get so bad," he looked down at his feet. It brought up too many memories, too many bad memories.
The service was actually quite short. There was a prayer, the eulogy William gave because that was all Robert had left and Grace caught a flash of Thomas, her nephew, up in the front row with Evelyn when he started to make a fuss. They had left Gracie in New York with Chris, she didn't need to be at a funeral in another country for a guy she should never know about.
The reception was at Robert's house and it wasn't quartered off so Michael took it upon himself to seize the opportunity to show Amber where he had grown up while Eleanor peeked curiously through open doors as the guests gathered in the overly large foyer and parlour.
Eventually, they filled glasses with club soda at the bar and found a table in the back corner where even Parker slumped in his chair after an exhausting couple hours between the service and where they were at the moment.
"You okay?" Taylor asked Grace. She was cautious with her inquiry, careful to say it with a tone that didn't make Grace feel like a little kid about to get scolded for having improper feelings.
But fate was funny. Sometimes, you lock doors and barricade them up and no matter how strong the wind blows during the storm, they don't until until you give an inch and they take a mile.
Grace was about to answer when her eyes caught sight of something she didn't expect to see. Jennifer Kent was not at the service, but when Grace saw her through the crowd of people making polite chatter with William and the other guests, she instantly grabbed onto both Taylor and her brother's respective arms harshly.
Their attention snapped up, it wasn't hard to find what they were supposed to be looking at. In a sea of people dressed in all black down to the dress shirts under their ties, Jennifer Kent was in a stark white dress that cut off mid-thigh, the high heels to match it. She wore the bright red lipstick of a scorned soon to be ex-wife, her back effortlessly straight after a lifetime of carrying herself with absolute elegance.
"Holy..."
"Fuck," Michael finished Grace's whisper for her.