The Lucky One (2) - Taylor Swift

29

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."