The Devil You Know: Chapter 18

It was almost eleven when Dillon woke up the next morning.  As he came to consciousness, he saw Sarah’s smile.  “Have a good sleep?” she asked cutely.

“What time is it?” he asked.  When she told him, he looked confused.  “Why am I still so groggy?”

“It’s from the tryptophan in the turkey.  Helps you sleep.  Why did you think my grandfather, dad and uncles were all asleep while the football game was on?” she informed him.

“It’s a wonderful drug.  Must remember to take it again next year,” he said as he got out of bed.  “I’m going to take a shower.  Wanna join me?”

“I just may.”  Dillon headed into the bathroom.  As he closed the door, his phone rang.  Sarah noticed the number was from Port Charles, but at the same time, she heard the shower start, so she answered it.  “Dillon Quartermaine’s phone.”

“Hello, is this Sarah?” Monica Quartermaine asked when the end picked up. 

“Yeah sorry, Dillon just stepped into the shower.  Do you need me to get him?” came the question from Sarah.

“Please, it’s urgent.” 

Sarah got out of the bed and headed into the bathroom  From behind the curtain, Dillon said, “So you decided to join me?”

“Dillon, it’s Monica,” Sarah said, handing him the phone. 

He turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and took it.  “Monica?” was all he asked.

“Dillon, I’m sorry to…to tell you this.  It’s Edward,” she began.

Dillon took a deep breath.  “What about Grandfather?” he asked, but he knew what she was going to say.

“He…he passed away overnight,” Monica said, her voice cracking.

Dillon took Sarah’s hand and Sarah leaned against him.  She had heard what was said on the other end.  “Alright.  I’ll tell Michael and we can be home in…”

“Dillon, this is you mother,” came Tracy Quartermaine’s harsh voice.  Then in a calmer tone, she said, “There nothing you can do.  You’ll be home on Sunday right?”

“Mom, I need--”

“You need to…to celebrate life.  Monica and I agreed, both you and Michael should stay for the wedding.  That’s what Daddy would have wanted.  In fact, that’s what he was talking about, all day yesterday, his grandson and Victor Lord’s granddaughter.  He found it amusing,” Tracy said, trying to keep her voice steady.  “Besides, Ned and Brooklyn won’t be able to get here until Saturday night at least.  Nothing will be done until Monday.  That gives you plenty of time to come…home.”

Dillon looked at Sarah.  “Okay, I’ll stay,” he agreed.  Then, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Daddy is with Mother now.  That gives me peace.”  With that, the connection was broken.

Dillon dried himself off and threw on some closes before he headed down to Michael’s room.  When Michael told him to come in, Dillon opened the door.  Right then, Michael sensed something was wrong from the look on his cousin’s face.    

A little bit later at La Boulaie, Todd’s phone rang.  Answering it, he said, “Yeah?”  The reporter told him the news.  “Okay, thanks for letting me know.  Ah, run a simple headline, ‘Edward Quartermaine’, birth year to now, just that.  Any more details come through, let me know.  I’ll write up copy and send it to you.”

Blair came over to him as he ended the call.  “What happened?”

Before he could answer, Starr also came down.  When she saw the look on his face, she echoed her mother’s question.

“That was the paper.  Edward Quartermaine died overnight,” he informed them. 

“Oh, my God!” Starr said.  “I have to get over the carriage house.”  With that she was gone.

Todd looked at Blair, then found a pad and pen in Dorian’s ornate desk.  Even though he hadn’t know his neighbor very well, he had turned out to be a bigger part in the life of Todd Manning than he had known upon arriving in Port Charles.  He felt it was his duty to write an appropriate obituary.  It took an hour, but afterwards, he handed over the pad to Blair, who read it, a tear in her eye. 

Starr arrived at Llanfair and was greeted by their family butler, Reginald Jennings.  “Hi, have you seen Michael yet?” she asked, stepping inside.

Reg nodded his head.  “Yeah, he’s in the library.”

Before Starr walked in, she turned and gave him a hug.  She knew that before coming to work for her family, Reginald had worked for an number of years for the Quartermaines.  This lose effected him too.  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Though never the type to give or accept and embrace, Reginald returned it to Starr.  “Thank you,” he said before releasing her.

Michael was sitting on the couch with Dillon, Viki and Clint.  Immediately, she went over and they embraced, his tears running down his face. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her own eyes wet.  Then she looked at Dillon and back at Michael.  “When are you leaving?”

“My mother said we should stay as planned.  The arrangements are going to be for Monday probably,” Dillon informed her.  “He was happy we could be here.”

“That actually sounds like the Edward I remember.  Hard as nails in business, but an old softie when it came to family,” Clint added.  “I even remember the occasional poker game he had with Asa, Palmer Cortlandt and Adam Chandler.  Frustrated Asa a number of time at them.  Thankfully, they never played for more than money.”   

“Mom would say he was like that because of Lila,” Michael said, holding Starr’s hand.  “She and my dad had their conflicts with him, but they always respected Edward.” 

Just then, Cord and Tina walked into the library and saw the look on their daughter’s face.  “Sarah, honey, what’s wrong?”  Tina asked.

“Edward Quartermaine died in his sleep.  Dillon got the call from his mother this morning,” Viki said,  rubbing her sister’s arm.

Tina’s hands went to her mouth.  The picture Edward had taken of her years ago, holding her newborn brothers, flashed in her head.  She went over to Dillon and opened her arms, wrapping them around Sarah’s boyfriend.  “I am so sorry,” she said.  “He was such a sweet man.  I wish I could have known him for much longer than I did.”

Todd and Blair eventually arrived at Llanfair to pay their condolences to Michael and Dillon.  “I also wrote this up for The Sun.”  He handed Michael typed sheets on which was the obituary he had written out earlier at La Boulaie.  “I can change anything if you need me to.”

Michael took a few minutes to read it, then handed it to Dillon.  After Dillon finished with it, he replied, “That’s very nice.  Sounds very unlike him, but thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Todd said.  Looking up at Dillon, then Michael, he added, “Reputation to uphold.”

Michael smiled.  “Edward also tried to maintain a reputation, but everyone saw through it, even me.  He’d show me pictures of him and Lila…and he’d get this look on his face.  You could always see how much he missed her.”

“A real love story?”  Starr asked.  When Michael nodded, she glanced over at her parents.  Blair had her arm laced with Todd’s and she was leaning against him, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Dillon looked over at Sarah his mood lightening at a thought.  “Know what I feel like?”

Sarah gave him a curious look.  “What?”

“Viki, as wonderful and delicious as dinner was yesterday,  I actually find myself missing our annual Quartermaine Thanksgiving dinner.  Any good pizza joints around here?”

Starr went to grab her purse.  “I know of a few.” 

They headed out the door as Tina said, “Remember to be at St. James for five o’clock.” The young adults gave their assurances as they walked out the door.

With them gone, Todd went over to fix himself a drink.  He poured out six glasses of scotch and handed them around.  When Viki and Clint begged off, Todd told them, “ A sip won’t kill either of you.”  They took it and raising his glass, said, “To Edward Quartermaine.”  They all clinked glasses, holding onto their memories of the Quartermaine patriarch, few that they may have been.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF JOHN INGLE, 1928-2012


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