EPISODE 318
Written by: Bre L Drew
November 18, 2024
Last Time on Town and Country
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After a successful performance in Portland, Martha returns to her hotel, where Murray impulsively kisses her. She quickly rebuffs him. Meanwhile, Samuel voices his discomfort with Martha touring with Murray but steps aside, understanding the importance of the opportunity to her.
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Daniel is dissatisfied with Courtney's decision to hire Jacques at the Covington Group and begins plotting ways to remove him from the company. Adding to the tension, Will learns that Jacques and Emma secretly eloped in Puerto Rico.
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Elsewhere, Jai and Mala prepare for their upcoming nuptials, opting for a small, intimate ceremony at home.
PORTLAND, OREGON
“Murray, what the hell are you doing?!” Martha Saunders says, her voice sharp yet hushed as she steps back, her hand instinctively going to her lips where his kiss had landed moments before. Her eyes flashed with anger and disbelief. She had welcomed him into her hotel room after her band’s performance at the Portland nightclub, thinking their relationship was clear-cut strictly professional, with an undertone of shared responsibility as parents.
Seemingly remorseless, Murray Hirsch let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Martha, but you can’t tell me you didn’t feel that.”
Martha crosses her arms, her body loaded with tension. "Shock? Disgust? Because that’s all I’m feeling right now.” Her voice wavered, not out of hesitation but from the flurry of emotions brewing inside her.
Murray’s expression darkens slightly, a shadow of frustration crossing his face. “Friends? Really? ” He gestures broadly, his tone rising as he pours his emotions into his words.
“We’ve gotten closer because of our son,” Martha snapped, her eyes narrowing. “That’s all it’s ever been about. But even as she said it, she noticed something in Murray’s face—an unspoken reality lurking beneath his outburst.
Her voice dropped, edged with suspicion. “What’s that look for?”
Murray hesitated, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his confession. He looked away briefly, then met her gaze. “I didn’t come back into your life because of SJ.,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a raw vulnerability. “I came back for you.”
HOME FARM
At the Home Farm estate, Daniel Covington stood behind the bar downstairs, pouring himself a scotch when a knock at the door caught his attention. He set the glass down and walked over, opening it to find his youngest son, Tommy Covington, standing in the doorway.
“I got your message,” Tommy said, his voice flat but tinged with a hint of interest. “I would've ignored it, but I figured I’d at least show up."
After discovering the truth about his father gaslighting his wife, Tommy makes a decisive move. He, Jordan, and their young son, Jeremy, had left the mansion and relocated to the guest house on the property. It was another effect of Daniel’s long-running machinations.
Daniel grabs his drink, the glass cools against his hand and looked directly at Tommy. The usual calm of his demeanor shifted, replaced by something more direct, more searching.
“Tell me the truth, Thomas,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. “How is Jacques really doing at Covington?”
COVINGTON GROUP
The twenty-story Covington Tower dominates over downtown Radcliffe, a beacon of modern design and distinction. On the twentieth floor, where the Covington Group's executive offices were located, Courtney Covington Sullivan saunters down the quiet hallway. Wrapped in a sleek camel coat, her carryall purse hanging over her shoulder, she glances at the clock as she approaches the door of Jacques Laurent’s office.
As she approaches Jacques Laurent’s office, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.
She pushes the door open, stepping into the warmly lit space. Jacques, dressed in a perfectly tailored navy-blue suit, sat behind his desk, his focus entirely on the paperwork in front of him.
Courtney pauses, tapping her fingers lightly on the edge of his desk. “Burning the midnight oil, aren't we?” she asks warmly.
He looked up, unenthused for only a moment before a smile flickered across his face. “Bonsoir, Courtney,” he greeted, his French accent smooth and familiar. “Yes, you could say that. It is early overseas, so I’m still conducting business.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his gaze momentarily distant. “Though Emma isn’t exactly thrilled about it.”
Courtney crosses her arms, her gaze sharp yet teasing. “Does my aunt know just how hard you’ve been working? Or is she too busy being annoyed at you to notice?”
Courtney isn't exactly close to her aunt, who is only seven years older than she is. Their relationship has always been cordial but not particularly deep, given their different worlds. However, knowing that Jacques and Emma are still newlyweds, Courtney understands the desire to spend as much time together as possible.
Jacques chuckled, a hint of weariness in the sound. “Oh, she knows."
He is aware that his dedication to putting in long hours at Covington was costing him precious time with Emma. Yet, despite the strain, he remained determined. His ambition is to make a name for himself at the company.
Courtney gave him a pointed look, stepping closer. “Jacques, you’re good at what you do, but you need to know when to call it a night.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what would you suggest?”
“I suggest you get out of here and go surprise that aunt of mine,” Courtney said firmly. “I think business will still be here tomorrow for you."
Jacques hesitated, her words striking a nerve. He sat back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping on the desk. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted softly.
“I’m always right." she jokingly remarks. "Now, go. Show her how much she means to you. Good night, Jacques.”
"Night, Courtney,” he replies, his lips curving into an imprecise smile as she turns to leave.
The door shuts softly behind her, leaving Jacques alone with his thoughts. He glanced at the stack of papers on his desk.
THE CLIFFE
Emma Covington Laurent sat in her office above the nightclub she’d poured her soul into creating. The steady thrum of hip-hop from the bar below vibrated through the floor, filling the quiet room with a faraway energy. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes unfocused on the laptop screen in front of her.
Her thoughts, as they often did these days, drifted to Jacques. Her husband had become a stranger, buried in his work at Covington Group. Their time together was rare, their conversations brief. The distance between them felt as physical as the walls around her, and the ache of it settled in her chest.
A sharp knock jolted her from her thoughts. The door opened before she could respond, and Will Jackson steps inside.
“Somethin' on your mind?” He said simply, his voice low and unreadable.
Her gaze snapped to him. Will stood in the doorway, a black polo shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the top button undone. His dark jeans were worn but neat, the casual look emphasizing the tension in his posture. Despite their civility towards each other, the fact that she cheated on him with her now husband is still palpable between them.
Emma hesitates, her fingers brushing the edge of the desk. “I feel like I barely see Jacques lately He’s always wrapped up in Covington Group, and I’m—”
“Stop,” Will interrupted, his voice sharper than she expected. "I ain't up for it.”
“Up for what?” she asked, her tone defensive.
“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between them. “Whatever you think this is. I ain't the person you should be ventin' to bout your marriage, Emma. Not after everything.”
Her throat narrows, but she pushes forward. “I wasn’t trying to—” Emma exhales slowly, her shoulders sagging as she leaned against the edge of her desk. The weight of Will’s words settled in her chest, but she couldn’t deny the truth in them.
“You know,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “You’re absolutely right. I should not be talking to you about this.”
VICTORY COTTAGE
The soft, atmospheric murmur of U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name" fills the living room, its soaring notes blending with the warmth of Victory Cottage. Samuel Gupta lay sprawled on the carpeted rug, the pages of a retro leather-bound photo album spread out in front of him. He propped his head up with one hand, his expression a mix of amusement and mild exasperation.
On the couch behind him, Mala and Jai Gupta sit comfortably, their knees nearly touching. Mala cradles a cup of chai tea in her hands, while Jai leans back, his arm casually draped along the backrest.
“This is my life now,” Samuel announces dramatically, flipping a page with exaggerated flair. “Lying on the floor, looking at old photos with my parents while my partner is God-knows-where with her ex.”
Martha being cross country on tour with her band, alongside her ex-boyfriend, Murray, who was headlining the tour through his talent agency. To make matters worse, Murray had made it clear he still had feelings for the mother of his child.
“Oh, Samuel.” Mala shakes her head, a teasing smirk curving her lips. “You make it sound like staying home with us is a prison sentence.”
Samuel cranes his neck to look up at her, feigning a pained expression. “Well, it’s not exactly an exciting night out is it?”
With only a week remaining before Jai and Mala’s remarriage, they had decided it was the perfect time to savor time together as a family. The wedding preparations were ramping up, but tonight was meant for memories and laughter, a brief reprieve from the whirlwind ahead. There was another layer to the evening, unspoken but deeply felt—Samuel was moving into Jai’s apartment after the wedding, making this the last time they’d all live under the same roof.
Jai places a reassuring hand on his fiancée's knee and said, “It’s just one more week, Samuel and then Martha will be home, and you’ll have the chance to talk things through and get back on track.”
The psychiatrist tilted his head slightly, acknowledging Samuel’s point before his gaze fell on a Polaroid photo tucked in the album.
He paused, noticing a familiar face. “Wait, is this you, Mom, and Lena?” Samuel asked, his tone incredulous. He holds up the book for Mala and Jai to see, his curiosity piqued.
The photo is over thirty years old, in it, a young Mala lounging on a couch, dressed in baggy clothes—a brown-and-white oversized shirt paired with jeans. Beside her sat Lena, her best friend, vibrant in a dark red long-sleeve sweater with a black high-waisted skirt and bold makeup.
“I haven’t seen this in ages,” Mala murmured, her fingers brushing the edge of the photo as if touching a distant memory.
Her voice falters slightly, betraying a flood of emotions she wasn’t ready to voice. “This had to be taken by Raj at their first flat."
“In Covent Garden,” Jai chimed in, leaning closer to get a better look. A reflective smirk tugged at his lips. “Now that’s a blast from the past.”
The Choudhurys are still together and would be attending the ceremony next week. Jai and Mala hadn’t seen them since they moved to Radcliffe, though they now lived back in their native London.
Before they could delve further into the memory, Aaliyah Gupta descends the stairs, her arms tightly folded across her chest. Her face was drawn, and the tension in her posture spoke volumes. Samuel noticed immediately, his brows knitting in concern.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Aaliyah sighs, her voice laced with frustration. “I didn’t get the assistant job at that clothing factory in Hudson Lake. It’s been months since graduation, and I feel like I’m getting nowhere.”
Wordlessly, she sank onto the couch between her parents. Jai wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting embrace.
Mala’s hand rested on her daughter’s knee. “Maybe it’s time to change course."
Jai shook his head, cutting her off gently with a look.
Samuel slid over, holding up the photo he’d been examining. “Here, look at this. It’ll make you feel better."
Aaliyah takes the album, her lips twitching into a small smile as she studied it. “No way. This is Mommy? Baggy clothes, and brown lipstick, she lets out a soft laugh. “I don’t believe it. You’re so put together now—a corporate maven, no less. What happened?”
Mala rolls her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. “I grew up, that’s what happened.”
“And stopped wearing ill-fitting clothes,” Aaliyah teased.
Jai and Mala exchanged a quick look, a blend of levity and something unspoken passing between them.
“Well,” Jai said, breaking the moment, “before we dive too deep into the past, how about we make some new memories of our own? Everyone, huddle up.”
He pulls out his iPhone and gestured for everyone to scoot closer. Mala rested her hand on Aaliyah’s shoulder, while Samuel leaned in on the other side. Jai extended his arm, framing them perfectly in the shot.
He then clicks the camera, capturing a fleeting moment of togetherness amidst life’s chaos.
HOME FARM
Tommy raises an eyebrow, his arms crossed tightly as he eyed his father with a mix of curiousness and caution. "Why do you want to know about Jacques, anyway?" he asked, his tone polluted with suspicion.
Daniel’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was firm as he responded, “Just tell me."
Tommy remained across from his father his arms clasped as he thought about what his father had said. “Jacques? Yeah, big ego, like always. Talks a big game, makes deals—most of them legit, at least so far.” He paused, then added with a shrug, “Let's just say that I'm not his biggest fan, okay.”
Courtney had assigned him and Jacques to work together on a few transactions and so far, their meetings have been far from successful.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his drink, then set it down with deliberate care. “What if we work together to oust him from the company?” he suggested, his voice low and intent. There was no doubt in his tone—this wasn’t just a passing thought, but a serious proposition.
Tommy observes his father, his skepticism evident as he glances at the glass in Daniel's hand. “Had too much of that scotch?” he asked, his voice a mix of doubt and concern.
"I'm serious, Thomas," Daniel said, his tone firm and unyielding. “You know just as much as I do that your sister made a mistake in bringing on Jacques Laurent. It’s bad enough he’s under this roof because he managed to latch onto Emma.”
His words dripped with disdain as he took a measured sip of his drink.
Tommy exhales heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly. He didn’t outright agree with his father, but the truth lingered uncomfortably in the back of his mind. A part of him knew Daniel wasn’t entirely wrong, though admitting it aloud was something he wasn’t ready to do.
Without another word, Tommy turned and started for the door, the tension between them unresolved. “At least think about it,” Daniel called after him, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and expectation.
Tommy doesn't respond, the sound of the front door closing moments later signaling his departure. Alone now, Daniel leaned back in his chair, his fingers tightening around the glass in his hand. His gaze was steely, his resolve firm.
“Jacques Laurent won’t have a foothold in this family for much longer,” he muttered under his breath, lifting the glass to his lips.
THE CLIFFE
The vibration of music from the club below a distant reminder of the world surrounding them. Will leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he studied Emma.
“So, marriage to Jackie Boy ain’t what you thought it’d be?” he asked casually, though his tone carried a hint of something sharper.
Emma tilts her head slightly, her dark eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say that. All in all, what Jacques and I have is solid.” She hesitated, gesturing vaguely to the room around them. “It’s just… he’s trying so hard to be a success at Covington, and I get that. I just feel neglected sometimes. Even though I have all of this.”
Will scratches the back of his neck, his expression unreadable. “Look,” he began, his voice low, “I’m ain't bout to give you advice, because no matter what I say, you’re still gonna be with him. But how ’bout we go downstairs, have a drink, and enjoy what we built here?”
Emma gave him a soft smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t think I’d be good company. You go have fun without me, though. I’m sure some lady would be lucky to see you down there. Who knows, maybe she’ll ask for your number.”
Will let out a low chuckle but didn’t press her. He hadn’t made time for dating, not with running the club and helping out on the farm while Lenny was on leave battling cancer. The thought weighed on him, but he didn’t say it aloud.
Will smirks but said nothing, and Emma continued, her voice softening. “I think I’m just going to catch up on some work before leaving."
A knock at the door interrupts their conversation. Both turned toward it as Jacques Laurent stepped inside, two flower bouquets in hand. His crisp suit and easy confidence contrasted with the faint unease in his expression.
“Is this a bad time?” Jacques asked, his accent smooth but his tone cautious.
Will’s jaw tightens, and though he wanted to fire off a cutting remark, he stayed silent. He wasn’t thrilled to see his rival here, not now.
Emma, however, is surprised. She closes the screen down, sitting up straighter. “Jacques,” she said, her tone betraying her surprise. “I thought you were busy tonight.”
Jacques steps further into the room, his eyes flicking to Will. “Will,” he greeted dryly.
​
“I’ll leave y'all to it,” Will said. He glances back at Jacques with a glare before heading for the door, shutting it behind him.
Jacques shifts his attention to Emma, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Why do I feel like as you Americans call it, I’m in the hot seat?” he remarks in his French accent.
Emma folded her arms, her expression cool. “Jacques, I’m glad you’re doing well at Covington, I really am. But since you started, I’ve felt like I’m in second place. And it’s a feeling I’ve been trying to escape my entire life.”
Jacques places the flowers on her desk, his face softening. “Emma,” he said, his voice low, “First of all, you’re not in second place. You’ve never been in second place. I married you because you’re the most important thing in my life."
Emma arched an eyebrow. “And because the INS was going to deport you back to France?”
Jacques chuckles, the tension breaking slightly. “That too,” he admitted with a faint smile. “But mostly because I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”
Emma wanted to stay cold, to hold onto her frustration, but the sincerity in his voice made it hard. She reached for one of the flowers, running her fingers along the delicate petals. “Perhaps dinner at The Château might make me come around,” she said softly.
Jacques’s smile widens as he stepped closer, brushing a kiss across her cheek. “Done,” he said. “And tonight, instead of going home to Home Farm, how about we spend the night at our old suite? It’s been too long since we’ve been alone together.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
Moments later, as Will stood behind the bar, the club alive with energy, his gaze drifted toward the exit. Emma, now in her coat with her purse slung over her arm, held the flowers tightly as Jacques walked beside her, their hands intertwined, and both were smiling.
Will shook his head with a wry grin, turning back to the task at hand. He wasn’t sorry he hadn’t tried harder to cheer Emma up. She still deserved better, but that wasn’t his place to say—not anymore.
PORTLAND, OREGON
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Martha stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest as her anger battled against an unsettling pang of guilt and confusion.
Martha’s hand stung, but not as much as her pride. The sharp crack of her slap echoed through the hotel room, leaving Murray momentarily stunned. His cheek reddened, but his defiance remained.
“You’ve made a goddamn fool of me,” Martha seethed, her voice shaking with rage and humiliation. “All of this—your so-called friendship, your involvement in SJ’s life—it was just another game. And now it all makes sense.”
Murray rubbed his cheek, the sting of her slap lingering, but his voice softened. “Being with you, getting to know you again—has been incredible. And deep down, I know you feel that too.”
Martha’s laugh was bitter, her eyes blazing. “Samuel was right about you the whole time, and I was too blind to see it. I let you worm your way back in, convinced myself it was for SJ, but all it’s done is put my relationship with Samuel on the line but most importantly our son is going to pay the price.”
Murray frowns, his brow furrowing. “Doc might be good for you now, but he will never make you feel alive. Not the way I do."
Martha’s laugh was short, laced with incredulity and lingering anger. She shook her head, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face him. “You really don’t get it, do you? We never had some great love, Murray. It was a few fucks, some dinners, and the occasional greasy breakfast. That’s it!”
​
Murray flinches slightly, the words hitting their mark, but he quickly masked it with a tight-lipped smirk. “That’s not how I remember it.”
Her voice dropped, colder now, cutting deeper. “The only thing we ever did together that is worth a damn is 2,000 miles away, asleep in his bed. Our son is the only good thing that came out of us, and even that wasn't because of you.”
“SJ’s a good kid,” Murray admitted with a shrug. “But seriously I’m not the day-to-day, fatherly type. "
Martha let out a derisive scoff at his response, putting her arms tightly over her chest. “Well, finally, you’re being honest,” she said, her tone biting. “It only took you almost six years to show any so-called interest, and that was a lie too.”
Her mind wandered briefly to how they’d reconnected last year at the music festival—his charm, the fleeting spark she mistook for sincerity. All of it now felt like a cruel joke. “So, Murray,” she continued, her voice icy. “So, tell me something, how in the world would you be a father if I somehow lost all sense and decided to be with you?”
Murray shoves his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable but his tone casual, as if this were a perfectly normal conversation. “We’d finish the tour, of course,” he began, “and then we’d move to LA full-time. SJ could stay in Radcliffe with your mother, and he could come out during the summer, you know, in between shows.”
Martha’s jaw drops in disbelief. She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head, her lips curling into a humorless smile. “You’re really a selfish asshole, aren’t you?”
She strides to the closet, yanking her suitcase out and tossing it onto the bed with a loud thud, and begins grabbing her belongings, throwing them into the open case with purposeful force.
Murray watched her, his brow creasing in confusion. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
Without pausing, Martha shot back, “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m getting the hell out of here. The tour is over. I’m going home.”
He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You can’t just leave! We have a contract. If you bail, I’ll sue—”
Martha turns to him, her glare cutting through his words. “Don’t even try me, Murray. You’ve done enough damage. You really want to go there?”
For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then, almost as if scrambling for leverage, he asked, “What about SJ?”
Martha let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Now you care about him again. You won’t be in either of our lives,
Murray. This is the last time you’ll see him—or me.”
Murray’s face darkened, but his voice softened, almost pleading. “How are you going to explain that to him?”
She squared her shoulders and looked him directly in the eye. “Sperm donors don't get to worry about their children." Her tone was final, leaving no room for argument. “Now get out!”
Murray lingered for a moment, his jaw tightening, but the fierce determination in her eyes left no doubt that she meant every word. Eventually, he turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
As the silence settled, Martha stood frozen and then with a deep breath, she resumed packing, her hands trembling slightly as tears began to fall down her face. She didn’t stop moving, though each item she placed in the suitcase felt heavier than the last.
Her heart hurt at the thought of how this might affect her career, and the opportunities she’d worked so hard to build, but deep down, she knew she was doing the right thing—for herself and, most importantly, for SJ. Still, uncertainty looms large.
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END OF EPISODE
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ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF TOWN AND COUNTRY
Surprises and drama are in store on Jai and Mala's big day.
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