Edmund: Come here. (They kiss) How's aunt Phoebe?
Brooke: Oh, she's resting comfortably in my bed with her leg elevated and the other little intruder snoring away in his crib. (Sigh) This is not the way I planned the evening.
Edmund: Poor Brooke. Brooke: No, really. This was gonna be a romantic dinner for two. You know, a seduction. And what did I get? I got all hell is breaking loose. I got four guests, right? One of whom is flinging his pureed potatoes on the ceiling, the other one is practically on the floor because of my elegantly modest Chardonnay. Really. Where did I go wrong?
She walks into the kitchen and stands in front of the sink. Edmund hands her dirty dishes from the other side of the counter.
Edmund: Well I had a great time. In fact, if you want to know the truth, for the whole evening, it's one of the best evenings I ever had. Brooke: You're not serious.
Edmund: I'm dead serious. I love this family. (Thunder roars and the lights flicker) I love you.
Brooke: What? What did you say?
Edmund: It's no big deal.
Brooke: What did I miss?
Edmund: Nothing. Nothing. Nothing as earth shattering as that boomer outside.
Brooke: Edmund.
Edmund: I'll tell you again, some other time, maybe.
She's washing dishes and he's standing behind her kissing her neck and shoulders.
Edmund: There's something terribly sexy about a woman in a black dress and diamonds scrubbing a pot.
Brooke: (laughing) I think this is a first. Necking while doing the dishes.
Edmund: Yeah well you thought your femme fatale skills were rusty, huh?
Brooke: Well I just never thought of them in the kitchen.
Edmund: Well that's because you grew up deprived. You see you had maids do all your chores. You never thought of all the inherent erotic possibilities in dishwashing did you? Girl you did all your necking in the back seat, it's time for a new stint. He turns her around to face him.
Brooke: Oh yeah?
Edmund: Mm. Hmmm. (They kiss passionately)
Brooke: Come on aunt Phoebe is sleeping in my bedroom.
Edmund: Oh, aunt Phoebe.
Brooke: I mean when I checked last she was out like a light, but...
Edmund: I can handle aunt Phoebe.
Brooke: Not unless you brought dynamite, alright? Langley left town. Mrs. Valentine is off for the night and you know my aunt Phoebe does not like to be alone.
Edmund: Listen, I can handle it. I can handle anything given the right incentive. And believe me that dress is the right incentive.
Brooke: She sprained her ankle.
Edmund: Look honey, how many times do I have to tell you?
Brooke: You don't understand, alright? I know my aunt Phoebe, when she's feeling sorry for herself she is unbudgeable, you cannot move her. She gets under your skin like a wood tick.
Edmund: And what you don't understand is that I can leap tall buildings in a single bound. I can handle the old girl.
Brooke: Listen, that old girl's crazy about you.
Edmund: I know and the feeling's mutual, but even without my x-ray vision I can zap her out of your bed and into hers.
Brooke: (laughing hysterically) Okay, alright. This I have to see.
Edmund: You have no faith in my prowess?
Brooke: Oh, I don't know. There is something about you that brings out the best in her. Yes, she adores you, but to zap her out of this bed ito her bed on a night like this, with a rainstorm. I don't think even Superman could move that mountain.
Edmund: Well if the mountain won't come to Superman. (He jerks her toward him for a kiss)
Brooke: Then Superman what? Has to go to the mountain? (They kiss and he starts kissing his way down her neck and shoulders) (Dreamily) Oh, Edmund.
Edmund: Well you did say she was out like a light.
Aunt Phoebe: Edmund. Brooke. Brooke dear, is Edmund still here?
Edmund: Well the aunt who came to dinner is reviving. They go into the bedroom where Brooke covers aunt Phoebe wih a blanket.
Phoebe: On, she is so good to me. But you know sweetheart I seem to feel chilled to the bone. Its an ache that I could ease if I had a tiny little glass of that excellent Chardonnay.
Brooke: Coming right up. Phoebe: On, isn't this an exciting adventure?
Edmund: Phoebe you know I worship the ground you walk on.
Phoebe: Oh, and that sentiment is returned to you threefold my dear.
Edmund: And you know that nothing is more important to me than you. Which is why I ask myself, wouldn't you be more comfortable in your own cozy bed?
Phoebe: (with a glint in her eye) And wouldn't you be cozier in this one? (She laughs) Oh, not with me silly boy. With Brooke, of course. I got ya! I am a thoroughly modern woman.
Phoebe gets out of bed just as Brooke comes with the wine.
Brooke: Oh, aunt Phoebe.
Phoebe: It's mind over matter sweetheart. (She chugs the wine). Edmund just offered to escort me home.
Brooke: Now?
Phoebe: Well I am going to sleep like a rock in my own bed, aren't I dearheart?
Edmund: You listen, I'll get your coat and drive you, okay?
Phoebe: Good idea. Oh, Brooke, that man is a treasure. He's one in a million. And if you let him get through your fingers you're a little dunce. Brooke: I'm not a dunce and anyway, does that man look like he's going anywhere? They both laugh.
Edmund returns after bringing Phoebe home and he is soaked from the rain.
Brooke: Oh, you're soaked.
Edmund: It's coming down like buckets.
Brooke: You were gone longer than I thought. Was it difficult?
Edmund: Difficult doesn't even begin to describe it.
Brooke: I watched you wrestle her into your car.
Edmund: On, that was the easy part. Getting her out of the car, carrying this woman across the drenched lawn. I can't see a thing. Lightning's flashing everywhere. (Brooke is laughing) She's holding the unbrella up and she's pointing out shrubbery. Shrubbery! And then we get into the house. It's dark as a tomb, I can't see a thing. We need a flashlight. Can we find a flashlight? Oh, no, we have to find just the right, exact, candlabra.
Brooke: The Barogue sterling silver?
Edmund: Yeah, the one purchased in a charming little antique shop in Paris in 1962.
Brooke: (She's unbuttoning his shirt and taking if off while she's talking) The anniversary trip with uncle Charles.
Edmund: Oh, yes. Paris, Rome...
Brooke: Venice.
Edmund: Amsterdam. Meanwhile I'm hauling her up the stairs and she's dripping hot wax on my neck.
Brooke: Poor Edmund. I'm sorry.
Edmund: I'll tell you. Remember what I said before about being a knight in shining armor? Forget about it. I mean maybe when I was nineteen I could haul a woman out of the car, across a drenched lawn, up a staircase, down a cavernous hall from hell, into a boudoir without losing my grip, but I'm telling you I'm not nineteen anymore. I'm too old to be a white knight.
Brooke: (Now they're sitting on the couch and she is drying him with a towel, his hair and chest) How about Superman?
Edmund: I'm too old to wear his tights.
Brooke: Yeah? Are you too old to get in my phone booth and get out of your wet clothes?
Edmund: You have a phone booth?
Brooke: (Getting up off the couch and taking his hand) Oh, ho, ho. This way Clark. (She leads him into the bedroom) You'll catch cold. Not what you deserve as a reward.
Edmund: Well, I only did what I said I'd do. Brooke: Unless aunt Phoebe wore you out.
Edmund: I think I'm getting a second wind. (He tilts her back on the bed while kissing her neck and upper chest.)
Later, they're asleep.
Edmund: No. No. No. Get back. I won't do it again. Get away from me. No.
Brooke: Edmund.
Edmund: Stop it.
Brooke: Edmund. Edmund. Edmund.
Edmund: What?
Brooke: Are you okay? It's okay. It's me. It's Brooke.
Edmund: Brooke.
Brooke: What happened?
Edmund: Bad dream.
Brooke: Yeah?
Edmund: Very bad dream. I'm sorry.
Brooke: Oh, no. What were you dreaming about? You seemed to be pursued by somebody. Please tell me who was after you. You sounded like you were a child.
Edmund: Yeah, six or seven.
Brooke: Pursued by what? A pack of tigers? You seemed to be promising that you wouldn't do something.
Edmund: The storm. The storm must've triggered it.
Brooke: Were you crying?
Edmund: Hell no! Do boys cry Brooke? No, they're tough. If they cry they're pantywaists that are just begging to be hit.
Brooke: It was your father. It was your father who was after you in the dream.
Edmund: My old man. Yeah, there was no pleasing him.
Brooke: Did he hit you?
Edmund: He was a firm believer in corporal punishment. I tried Brooke. I really tried. I turned myself inside out just to please him. To make him proud. Nothing ever got better.
Brooke: I'm sorry. Edmund: Yeah, he just didn't like me.
Brooke: Oh, Edmund. Edmund: No, it's true. It's true. It sounds stupid, juvenile, but my father hated me. You know I never talked about this before. Is that significant?
Brooke: You tell me.
Edmund: I mean I never opened up like this.
Brooke: With a woman?
Edmund: With anyone.
Brooke: Sometimes it helps.
Edmund: I didn't mean to tell you that stuff.
Brooke: It's okay you know. I know many people who had less than perfect fathers.
Edmund: There's a lot I didn't mean to tell you.
Brooke: But you did.
Edmund: Yeah.
Brooke: Maybe now you'll realize you can trust me.
Edmund: Maybe.
Brooke: Now maybe you know it's okay to open up to someone you trust.
Edmund: Can I trust you?
Brooke: I think you do trust me.
Edmund: Do I love you?
Brooke: I don't know.
Edmund: You think you're so smart. That's what I was trying to tell you before. I love you Brooke.