MAX SKINNER

Who would have thought that such a small room could house such an enormous amount of useless clutter? I’ve been excavating for days now, and it appears I have only made a minor dent in this mountain of stuff. Persistence, as always, is of the essence. One thing though; I do get out of the house more. Mornings, it’s painting with Lach and the lads, then I buy them lunch, then off to the Inn to work on my future office.

I had secretly been hoping for a random meeting with my scarf again, or more precisely, with the lady who seems to walk around with it wrapped around her lovely neck, but so far no luck. I have however seen her at a distance yesterday; she was going out. I waved, but she didn’t see me. She looked especially lovely in a petrol dress, and incongruously, she was wearing said scarf. At the time, that gave me some small hope, but it was quickly dashed into the ground as John informed me later that she was off to a dinner date with Gerry, the pub owner in Stowe. I had heard about the fire there; I had been all set to go last Saturday and enjoy the music, but just as I made ready to leave the work at my future office and drive home for a quick change of clothes (and yes, I do work on Saturdays, if the cause merits, I remember a time when Maximilian Skinner did not do weekends), Riley told me the concert was off.

Well there you go. No concert and instead, bloody Gerry got to take Jackie out to dinner. I’ve been grinding my teeth wondering how it went; wearing myself out hauling trash seems the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. Did he behave like a gentleman … or did he get a leg over? Would she have let him? Does she fancy him; would she have …feelings for him? Would they even be (God forbid!) an item by now? Bollocks. I could do with a bloody drink. Let me tell you, a shot of quality single malt right now would set me up all right. Maybe I should go and have a word with Daisy.

I have ordered some paint; a nice soft light green and a lemony-white shade that both seemed very bright and sunny. Furniture is also on the way. Desk, chair, cabinets, and I’ve splurged and gotten myself a new laptop while I was at it. Now if only Kim could get his arse in gear and sort out the wireless situation, I wouldn’t have to use my bloody phone to go online. I think my little office will actually be rather nice once I’m done; however unappealing it seemed at first.

There was something though … something that’s been puzzling me. A look, in Riley’s eyes, when she offered me the use of this space. A certain … je ne sais quoi, a … twinkle, as if she were up to something. Wonder what it was.

The thing is, among the general clutter I keep finding boxes of stuff that can be put to good use here at the Inn. Paper napkins, candles, a box containing twelve very nice champagne glasses … drinking straws. I have to keep my eyes open what I chuck and what I save, and luckily my key also fits the store room right next door so I can stash the useful stuff for Daisy. I’ve made a list of what I’ve put in the storeroom, or her whole inventory will be off. Thoughtful of me, eh? In all honesty I didn’t think I’d have it in me. My bluntness and callousness used to be widely known and I wore them like armour. Buffed them into a high shine every morning before I went to work when I was still into trading. But that was then. This is now, and sometimes I wonder if perhaps it’s the passing through the portal that has changed me. Brought another side of me to the fore. Or maybe it’s this sudden influx of Brothers, of knowing that I’m essentially not alone in the world. Losing one’s parents at an early age does change one’s general outlook on life, and I must say that, now that I am beginning to get used to the idea, I find having this family strangely soothing.

Now all I need to do is find myself someone I can bear waking up next to every morning. Valerie’s still besotted with me, in her amazing, exhausting pre-teen way, but flattering as it all may be, she’s hardly suitable. In any case, it’s good to know there is at least one female around who thinks I amount to something. Hmm, I think I actually envy Pullo a little. And here we go again: this train of thought brings the, erm, let’s call it the scarf situation, back to the forefront.

Sigh.

Just keep at it, Skinner, that’ll do the trick; there’s only, what, another half a million boxes to move? Look, it’s dark outside already. Time flies when you’re having fun. And yes, I need to get something for my little window, some sort of curtain or something. Oh look, I had almost forgotten, there’s that little statuette I found earlier, sitting on the windowsill. I still need to find out where that came from. It looks really old. It looks… not antique, but ancient, actually, in a priceless sort of way. I can’t believe Riley would have chucked it in here amongst all this stuff. Strange. Really strange. I need to…

Eh? What the fuck? There’s someone banging on the storeroom door. From the inside. Last time I put something in there was about an hour ago, and I locked the door when I was done, knowing with absolute certainty that there was no one in there. So how can there be knocking coming from the inside?

Hang on a minute. There’s not only banging on the door, it sounds like there’s some bloke in there cursing a blue streak. Understandable, understandable … I would do the same if I’d found myself locked in there. But there was no one there! I swear there was no one! How many places are there to hide in that bloody storeroom?

I’d better set him free, whoever he is.

ERIC NORTHMAN

“Where’s Daisy?” I bellowed to the surprised man who finally opened the door. I have got to get my directional bearings better if I’m to continue this damn experiment. The man said nothing so I just yelled louder. “Daisy!”

With the door opened my voice traveled further and within seconds she was there, pretty as ever and glaring at me.

“Maxi, when did he get here?”

“I’ve been here fifteen minutes. Don’t you ever leave this damn door opened?”

“No. Why are you here, Eric?”

“You know this bloke?”

We both gawked at Maxi and I finally turned my focus to sweet Daisy. “I am attempting to control where I appear. It was my goal to pop into the pub. Apparently I miscalculated again.”

“Pop in? Pop in? Pop in from … where? Or dare I venture to ask … from … when?” said Maxi, his face turning a bit ashen.

“Eric is, well … experimenting with Portals. He keeps showing up in the storeroom and by the way … dude … you can’t be popping into a crowded pub, you idiot. Can you imagine the ruckus you’d cause? Jesus!”

“The Portals?” Now Mr. Maxi had gone almost pure white and it was entertaining to say the least. “Daisy, love. No one should be experimenting with the Portals. Has this bloke any idea the dangers?”

“Don’t concern yourself, Maxi,” I smiled and winked at Daisy. “The Portals are no danger to me and my using them is no danger to you. It appears my show … or whatever it is … still exists, so, although I may be already dead, I can still go back.”

“What does he mean, he’s already dead?”

Daisy groaned. “Don’t worry about this Maxi, just go on back to what you were doing.”

“And leave you alone with this … this … what are you, sir?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I began to pace. “I need something to help focus my journeys. Perhaps something from out there in the pub to call me into that space? Or some reason to go to that space?”

“What’s your reason for coming into the storeroom?”

I grinned at the barmaid beauty. “For the most part, pretty Daisy, I know you will come to my aid. But I need something more … substantial I believe. Something to draw me more clearly to a location.”

“I … erm … I may have the answer. Here,” Maxi pulled an item from his shirt pocket and held it out. “Deliver this.”

“What is it?” Daisy moved closer.

She smells delightful; like fine bourbon and orange juice and soap and even more delightful things beneath. I fingered the item and looked closer. It was a small statuette, less than four inches high. “I recognize this. It’s a god. A Roman god, I believe, but which one, I can’t tell. Rather old. Older than me. Where did you get this?”

Maxi shrugged. “Unimportant, my man. The important thing is to deliver it. Take it to Sonoma, California … to the vineyard of Maximus Decimus Meridius and deliver it to a man … a man named Marc Antony.”

Delight brightened my eyes and I grinned wide. “Marcus Anonius is here? In this time? Imagine that? Perhaps now I can ask him all those questions I’ve been wondering about. We’ll have a wonderful long talk, warrior to warrior. Does this statuette belong to Antony?”

“I believe it does and I believe he needs it. The sooner the better. So now … go … shoo … get it to Sonoma.” Maxi had stepped nearly out of the storeroom.

“Wait,” I sighed. “Exactly where is this vineyard?”

“I have an Atlas in my office.”

We followed the Brit down the narrow hall and Daisy looked worriedly toward the pub. It was busy, as busy as Fangtasia was when I stepped into the Portal. Maxi handed over the book and inched back toward the door.

“Why don’t you cover the pub for Daisy while I locate this vineyard and Maxi,” I snapped just as he reached the door. “You will owe me for this favor.”

“What? Oh no, no, no. I’d rather use the post. Give me the statue.”

“And trust this valuable artifact to the United States Postal Service? It would be far wiser to owe me a favor. Now, go play bartender, Maxi.”

He skittered out and I chuckled as Daisy spread the atlas across a few boxes. “You didn’t need to scare him to death, Eric,” she said, sliding her finger along the California map.

“I did, didn’t I? And, I didn’t even show any fang.” I smiled, fangs a-blazing.

“Ew, put those things away. Here, this is where you’ll be going but damn, Eric. Are you sure you can play around with these Portals without hurting anyone? Maybe you shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t even try it.”

“Are you concerned for me sweet Daisy?”

“No. I’m concerned for everyone here. Maybe you … just a little bit. But mostly the guys here.”

“I see. Well, I’ll be off now. I will try to make this delivery tomorrow night. If you don’t hear from me …” and I leaned down; kissed her good and deep then grinned.

“Ew. Put those things away, dammit!”

I chuckled. “If you don’t hear from me and the statuette never gets to Marc Antony, you will know I am no more. Will you mourn me, Daisy?”

“I’ll throw a party. Now get the hell back into the storeroom before Maxi gives away all the whisky in the pub. Go. Shoo.”

But, before she closed the door, I did get a glimpse of her fingers at her lips, the very lips I’d just tasted. She will mourn me … or she will submit to me. For now I will focus on reaching Sonoma, California tomorrow night.
 
JEFF WIGAND

I would like to say that I seldom spend my Saturdays at the school, but between spcial projects, tutoring and Kelly always at the gift shop, I admit to often spending leisure Saturdays in the hallowed halls of education. Dressed in comfortable sweats, I tend to find it far more pleasant to grade papers at my large classroom desk than in my dingy office at the house. 

As with many Saturdays, Valentines Day afternoon I was there, shuffling through a pile of exams and making notations for parent/teacher evaluations. I’d had breakfast at the nearby diner, pancakes, bacon, two eggs and three cups of coffee. That night, Kelly and I were scheduled to chaperone the Valentines Day dance. It would be the first time we’d actually be together in a playful situation since the school year began. Perhaps I had been working too hard.

Perhaps. Perhaps. I rubbed my left arm and attempted to focus on the exam in front of me. My vision was moving in and out of focus and I had noticed a niggling nausea for the past few hours. I was beginning to sweat and I wondered if I could have contracted the flu from my students, as many were out with it this past week. My back ached and my chest ached and soon I came to the conclusion that even chaperoning may not happen that night. I just may be too ill to celebrate Valentines Day at all.

I groaned to my feet and dragged on my coat, not even straightening the mess on my desk. Misery intensified as I lugged my briefcase and left the school.

Outside, the chill was unbearable and my chest began to tighten. Had the flu already settled there? I pressed a hand against the pain there and looked to my car. It was parked at the far end of the lot and I suddenly wondered if I could drag myself that far. Next door was the rectory. Perhaps if I rested a moment there a moment, I could get myself home to bed and a hot toddy.

But my feet felt like lead and I struggled to the steps. My left hand gave a sudden spasm and the briefcase fell to the ground. I pulled myself along the railing up the three steps and leaned against the doorway, gasping, sweating. My foot kicked and Father Carroll opened the door, his eyes wide with surprise. He appeared to be ready to leave and I had startled him.

“Father … can I … can I trouble you for a … for a glass of water?”

The pain was suddenly unbearable and I was lying on the stoop, looking up at the priest as he called back for assistance. Where was my head? I know better. It was a heart attack. Pure and simple.

LACHLAN

If the weather were a little better, I’d have booked a dinner reservation at Jessie’s favorite restaurant and given us both a reason spiff up and get out of the house alone together for a few hours. Afterwards we’d go see a movie and after that we’d stop off at Kennedy’s Pub and I’d have fun trying to get her to drink just one strawberry margarita. But bad weather is actually working on my side this time, because we’re gonna celebrate Valentine’s Day here at home.

Enid grinned when I asked if she’d look after Amanda for the evening. “I think it’s sweet that you’re being so romantic. And you’re even cooking dinner?”

I think she suspects that like most men I would be just as happy ordering out for pizza, but I know my way around a stove. I just don’t force the issue. I mean, not many blokes would when their wives is more than happy to do the honors. But little does my wife or her mother know that I am a master at the fine art of making spaghetti. I picked the recipe up from Andy a few year’s back. Red sauce over white noodles; perfect for Valentine’s Day.

Enid wasn’t convinced. “I could help make the dessert if you’d like. You know how Jessie loves chocolate fudge brownies.”

“No worries. Sounds like you’re bucking for another grandchild.”

She just laughed and waved her hand. “Far be it for me to poke my nose into something so personal between you and my daughter. Although, I’ll happily go on the record and put my two cents in since you brought up the subject. Amanda needs a little brother or sister … or both.”

We were sitting in the kitchen where we all seem to spend most of our time lately. Jessie was upstairs nursing Amanda and Enid was working on her third cuppa coffee. She had a wistful, dreamy look in her eyes.

“Can you just imagine a house full of little redheaded babies?”

Amanda’s hair color has been the source a lot of teasing and speculation among the family. Jokes about the milkman and my being “rusty,” but I don’t mind. My daughter is absolutely beautiful and perfect, just like her mother.

“Although, they say red is really a recessive gene, so maybe the next one will be a brunette.” Enid caught my eye with a teasing smile and winked knowingly. “Isn’t this also an anniversary of sorts for you two?”

Fair dinkum, is it ever. One year ago today I made my move and gave a bouquet of red roses to a wry and funny lady bartender, asking her to be my Valentine. One look into her big brown eyes and I knew I wanted no other. Jessie obviously felt the same way. Just look at us twelve months later; a house, a baby, and a completely new life. And to be honest, I don’t even miss the Corps, not really. Might be nice to start flying again, but I’m really in no hurry.  

Truth be told, it’s not just an anniversary, and it’s not just Valentine’s Day; Jessie had her post delivery check up yesterday and her doctor gave her the go ahead for … you know. Sex. (So I’m a typical dirty male bugger. Sue me. Nothing wrong with a bloke looking forward to making love to his wife after three months of abstaining.)

Enid must have caught me grinnin’, because she started to chuckle. “You take your time tonight, Romeo. We’ll set Amanda’s cradle in my bedroom and she and I can watch a movie together. Tell Jessie just to make sure to pump enough to last the night.”

I didn’t even bother making any comments about the breast pump. Jessie’s breasts have been off limits but maybe with a little luck, she’ll let her guard down. Tonight, I’m relying on the infamous Curry charm.

Well, that and an extra helping of Enid’s brownies. 

Wish me luck, mates.

KELLY

I should have put my foot down. I should have insisted that Jeff meet with his physician immediately for a check up, dealt with the resulting argument, and lay down an ultimatum. My husband is about as stubborn as they come, but we’ve never locked heads about anything; not really. Except this, and I ended up backing down when I should have insisted otherwise. It’s frightening to see him attached to all these tubes and monitors. He has always been so robust and vital and now he looks like a mere shadow. 

The nurses are kind and very attentive. One brought me a pillow and blanket so I could rest a little more comfortably in the bedside chair. They check on Jeff constantly, taking his blood pressure and reading monitors, speaking in soft low tones so as not to startle.

“How’s he doing?” One of the nurses asks as she checks his I.V.

I almost want to laugh because it’s a question that I should be asking of her, but I realize that she’s genuinely concerned and is also checking on my own state of mind.

“He’s in and out, but I think he’s as comfortable as can be expected. He knows I’m here and he squeezes back when I squeeze his hand.”

“The angioplasty went well,” the nurse continued, referring to the procedure performed a few hours ago. “Your husband is going to have to face a few lifestyle changes as do all cardiac patients, but his vital signs are very good.”

Lifestyle changes. Hell yes. No more seconds on chocolate fudge cheesecake and from this moment on we’re switching to chai tea and decaf. We’ll start walking again and I’ll enroll in an online Japanese cuisine class and keep Jeff on a low fat diet filled with fresh vegetables and lots of fish. I don’t care for fish myself, but Jeff loves it, so I’m going to find a way to love it as well.

The nurse patted my shoulder before turning to leave us. “You should try to get some rest, Mrs. Wigand. He’s in good hands.”

I smiled, but I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave Jeff alone. I pulled my chair in closer, tugged the blanket closer around me and rested my head on the edge of Jeff’s bed. It’s funny, but I found the steady blipping of the heart monitor strangely calming. I started to drift off into an exhausted doze when I felt Jeff’s fingers in my hair.

I looked up and saw him watching me, his expression full of worry and when I realized that it was me he was worrying about instead of himself, it was all I could do not to break down and cry. I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together and I wasn’t about to let my emotions upset him.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

He gave weak smile and somehow pulled together enough energy to gently tweak my chin. “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo.”

“Neither am I, Jeffrey Wigand.” I reached for his hand and pressed it to my lips. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

He gave a weak chuckle. “Something tells me I have no idea what I’m in for, but right now, I find that notion rather comforting.”

I finally lost it. The tears burned my eyes but it felt good to cry. “Honey, you have no idea...” 

Another weak chuckle. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

I watched as his eyes grew heavy, holding his hand tucked between my neck and chin, willing all my strength and energy into him. Just when I thought he was asleep I felt his fingers brush gently against my cheek, and once again I thanked God for not taking him from me.

RILEY

Jackie, Nat and I were all sitting in the kitchen, laughing and joking when the news came. We were comparing the various qualities of Gerry Kennedy versus Max Skinner when the phone rang and we all stilled like stone. The first thing I thought was that there was news of Jacob. The situation was so big, we were all afraid to even talk about what might have happened to the kid. We’re all hoping he’s not far, just run away and not snatched or anything. I took a deep breath and lifted the receiver. God, this was even worse.

I asked a thousand questions I knew Kelly couldn’t answer then hung up and looked to my girlfriends. “Jesus. Jeff Wigand just had a heart attack. I don’t know whether to cry to run to a church.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Natalie asked, doling out cookies to Chelsea and Nathan.

“Nothing. They’re limiting his visitors so we can’t even go to the hospital. I need to let the family know.” I made a dozen calls then looked to the girls again. “Now what? I’m used to rushing to do something. What do we do now?”

“We talk about taking care of you,” Jackie said very calmly and I glared. “Don’t think for a minute we don’t all know you’re preggers. Rushing to everyone else’s aid is not on your agenda for the next say … nine months. We’re gonna sit tight and wait for news. And … drink herb tea and come up with names.”

“Jackie, how did you know?” I was shocked. John and I had told no one.

“It’s in your eyes, girl,” Natalie smiled. “You think it’s another boy?”

“Yes.” And the conversation moved again, playful on the surface as we all hid our concerns for Jeff and little Jacob.

TERRY

It’s never good to hear such bloody news, but being a large family, it’s bound to happen. I walked the halls of Thorne and O’Leary after getting the call from Kelly. Stopping at Dino’s first, I leaned against the doorjamb and waited for him to get off the phone.

“S’up partner?”

“Wigand. Heart attack. Not good, mate.”

“When?” Dino was already on his feet.

“Three hours ago, still in intensive care.”

“Just give me a minute to do some rescheduling and I’m ready. We taking the Cessna?”

“Yeah. Gonna see if Zack wants to come. See ya in fifteen.”

No time to pack, but already Eva was on it, promising to meet me at the airfield with a bag. She didn’t ask to come along and I didn’t ask her. We weren’t sure what we were facing so I sorta sidestepped that one. The only problem? Our Valentines reservations at the Plaza were gonna be wasted. But … I’ll make it up to her. She understands. I am one fuckin’ lucky bloke.

“Grant. We’re taking a trip to Vermont.”

“What happened and who’d it happen to?” He looked up from his desk with a concerned scowl.

“Wigand had a heart attack.”

“Fuck, we better hurry. That dude’s older than dirt.”

“He’s not,” I hissed and headed for my coat. “He’s only fifteen years older than me. He’s not older than dirt. That’d make me almost as old as dirt.” Bloody hell, maybe I should have my cholesterol checked?

JESSIE

The day started out on a light note, but the news of Jeff Wigand’s heart attack has us all in a state of worry. It pushed a lot of buttons for me, especially after dealing with Lachlan’s accident last year. When I stop to remember how he’d just missed the oncoming trolley when his car was broadsided … my heart skips a beat and I feel sick to my stomach. Then to top it off, we get the news that Jacob ran away from school.

“He more than likely ran off in a blue funk.” Lachlan was trying his best to cheer me up so I wouldn’t worry, but it wasn’t working. “He and Egan have been having a few power struggles lately.”

Power struggles. Poor Egan. Jacob loves his daddy but he’s lost so much in his young life. I have a suspicion that maybe he’s coping with everything by trying to push his father away. Yeah, it makes no sense to a grown up but to a little boy with a broken heart, it may simply be self preservation.

As much as I hated to disappoint Lachlan, I just wasn’t much in the mood to celebrate. He told me that he understood, but I felt guilty all the same.

“They’ll both be alright, I know it.” He took me into his arms and I clung to him. I didn’t want to consider what might happen if he was wrong.

JOHN

Started out like a nice day. Well, not completely. Riley was ralphing her morning sickness in the bathroom and Nathan woke crying from a nightmare, but after that it seemed okay. Saturday we don’t get many new reservations in. Most people travel from Sunday to Sunday and I was off the hook for most of the grunt work. The replacement Terry sent down to cover for Antony was doing fine and all I had to do was figure out what to do for Riles for Valentines Day. Having another kid on the way gives a man a feeling of security I shouldn’t be getting too comfortable with. I remember years on end with Donna when we were nothing more than ships bumping into each other in the night. I want this marriage to go way better.

I left the Inn at two and rushed out for flowers. Randy at Poseys R Us wasn’t too happy when I asked her to deliver a dozen roses to the Inn but she sighed and accepted the order.  I should be doing more, but my hopes are that we can get intimate later, after Nathan falls asleep. If I play my hand (and every other body part) right, she’ll be happy enough.

I stopped into Kennedy’s Corner pub for a beer and sat chatting for a few minutes.

“So, what did you do for the little wife this Valentines Day, John?”

“Got her a dozen roses,” I shrugged.

“Hoh man, you’re gonna be in the dog house for sure. I sent Jackie two dozen roses,” he laughed.

“So, it’s goin’ good for you, ay? I told Riles you’d be a good match for Jackie.”

“She doesn’t think so?”

“Nah. It’s just that she’s got it in her head that Skinner would be a better match.”

Gerry glared. “Skinner’s interested in Jackie? Damn. Maybe I better run over to Kelly’s gift shop to get that big stuffed bear too. Deliver it myself.”

“Can’t. Shop’s closed.” I sipped beer. “Didn’t you hear? Jeff had a heart attack this afternoon.”

“No. He okay?”

I shrugged. “It’s not good. They’re only letting one visitor in at a time. Riles and I plan to go over to the hospital tomorrow morning.”

“Damn. I fuckin’ hate hearing this stuff. How’s Kelly holding up?”

“Best as can be expected I guess.”

“Any news on Egan’s kid?”

I shrugged again and we both stared into my beer. Finally Gerry drew is own and we sat drinking in silence.

KIM

I felt guilty for leaving Emmie to deal with all the interviews lined up for the day, but I had a meeting with a client in Burlington and hoped to get in a little Valentine’s Day shopping done on the sly. Never mind that we agreed that she would make the final decision on the IT matter, but I felt as if I should at least lend my presence to the occasion. Then again, Riley’s mate Jackie has been filling us in on the things we need to get a simple wireless set up accomplished, and I’m beginning to wonder if she’s gonna be sticking around for a time? Might just be the simple answer. I’ll wait and see if Emmie has any luck first. If not, well, it wouldn’t hurt to make the suggestion.

My client was a bloke who runs a temporary employment agency that specializes in the hospitality industry. He wants to expand his business throughout the state, and I was interested enough to listen to his proposal. If a third party paid the cost of bonding and did the security screening and background check, the moneysaving potential just might warrant using their services. Emmie was a bit skeptical, preferring to stick with our seasonal college students who come back home during summer break, but I was hired on to keep the Inn in the black, not hire a workforce based on a sentimental loyalty. Riley and John had the final say in the matter, but I was impressed enough with the bloke’s presentation to suggest a second meeting in Stowe the following week.

After lunch I made a quick stop at the mall. Emmie loves Godiva chocolates and I wanted to pick up a little something for her at Victoria’s Secret. She needed a new bathrobe and I found this real sexy little red silk number with a matching teddy. As a joke I picked up a pair of black silk boxers for myself and had the salesclerk wrap them all together. A quick stop at the florist, and I hurried back to town.

EMILY

We had three interviews for the IT position this morning, and so far, I’m beginning to wonder; where the heck do these people come from? Planet Mars?

The first appointment was at none-thirty AM; a Stephan Treepeter from Burlington. Yes, I spelled his last name correctly. But as strange as his last name might have been, it had nothing on his physical appearance.

He arrived wearing a faded pair of camouflage pants and a bright orange hoodie. On his feet he wore a pair of navy blue wool socks and a pair of open toed Birkenstocks that had seen better days. He seemed to have made some sort of attempt to neaten what was left of his hair, securing the long wispy strands at the nape of his neck with a green rubber band.

A review of his resume showed that he hadn’t stayed with any job much longer than six months, stating internal issues time and again as his reason for moving on from each one. While his technical certification checked out and he seemed well spoken, I knew that this guy just wasn’t quite what we were looking for. The salary he was asking for was way too high and well, while I encouraged creativity in the way of one’s wardrobe, I was put off by his not dressing up in an attempt to impress a potential employer. I cut our interview short and told him I’d “let him know.”

The next interview took place right before lunch and the gentleman’s name was Isadore Grumpp. The name brought up images of fairytale villains, although his appearance was quite conservative. Dark suit, a little out of date, but clean; dark wing tipped oxfords that still smelled of shoe polish and a crisp white shirt. His hair was cut short in a non-descript style, and he seemed to favor a liberal dousing of Old Spice cologne. He was well spoken and had just been laid off from a company where over half of their IT crew had been let go because of the flagging economy. I was beginning to feel better about this one’s potential, but then the unspeakable happened.

He farted. Loud. And it was a real paint peeler. My eyes misted over and I had trouble speaking as I tried to inconspicuously breathe through my mouth as I asked my questions. And Isadore Grumpp didn’t even have the common courtesy to beg my pardon. Okay, it was a highly embarrassing moment, or at least it would have been for most individuals, but he just kept on talking as if nothing was amiss, smiling as he pointed out his accomplishments with his last employer. I was willing to overlook the whole incident, but then he must have noticed my pained expression, because he stopped and took a deep breath and just when I thought the apology was coming, his next comment nearly threw me for a loop.

“Um, do you have a problem with sewage backup?” He took another deep breathe and his nose wrinkled as he exhaled. “You might want to have a plumber look into that.”

At least he didn’t try to blame the smell on me. Needless to say, there was no way I could ever look at this guy in a professional manner without reflecting back on this incredibly painful, aromatic moment, so I hurried through the rest of the interview. As soon as he left I opened up the window, taking a deep breath of the fresh, frigid air.

The last interview was at two PM and the applicant never even showed. Probably just as well. A few minutes earlier I’d gotten the word from Riley about Jeff Wigand having a heart attack and I doubted if I would be able to concentrate; not enough to really pay attention to what I was doing. 

When Kim came back from his meeting in Burlington a little while later holding a bouquet of pink roses and a box of Godiva chocolates, I was actually able to laugh when he asked how the interviews had gone.

“Trust me; you really don’t want to know.” I then told him about Wigand and he grew pale, having to sit down as he absorbed the news.

“Is he okay? Should we go see him?”

I shook my head. “He’s in intensive care, and only one person is allowed at a time. Kelly’s with him, Terry and Dino are on their way. We’re just going to have to wait and see.”

“Should we send flowers … anything?”

“They don’t allow flowers in intensive care. But Riley said she’d let us all know what’s happening as soon as she hears.”

“I just feel like we should do something.”

I went over to give him a hug. “He’s in good hands, babe.”

I hoped I was right.

JACK

I looked around my office, the space greatly in disarray. Boxes to be unpacked were stacked along one wall, the empty ones collapsed and stacked near the door. Books, charts, files … all to be put away. Oh, I long for the days when Killick took care of such things. But, it is not to be and I am left to do my own unpacking.

This afternoon, I was making headway in stowing the books and charts when I received a phone call from the district attorney of Montpelier, Vermont, the small town where I had paused on my journey home from Maine and witnessed an act of thievery. A young boy had attempted to pilfer a small bit of chocolate. The attorney wished to confirm the statement I gave to the police at the time.

It was a short conversation; the man knew his business and did not dilly-dally with small talk. However, the youngster had been on my mind these few days. It was obvious to me that he was not the leader, that someone else had encouraged him to attempt thievery. The child was truly frightened and kept looking to the door of the establishment as if for a savior from the punishment sure to be meted out. But, no such savior appeared and the child was taken up by the police. I inquired of the attorney of the possibility of locating the culprit on whose behalf the boy acted. The attorney, however, was of the same mind as the police; the boy acted alone and the case was closed.

I sighed at the small-mindedness of government officials and inquired after the child himself. What had become of him? The news was a sorry affair. Just as Natalie suspected, the boy, Edwin, had been placed in a home for orphans. An orphanage, for all love! After further inquiry, the attorney gave me the number of the social worker in charge of the boy’s case, a Miss Chandler. After some persuasion and assurances of my good intentions and earnest concern of the boy’s welfare, Miss Chandler told me of Edwin’s return to the orphanage. The news was grim. He was withdrawn; unresponsive to his caretakers or the other children. She indicated it was unlikely that at his age a permanent place would be found for him, and that this incident make the possibility even more remote. The news brought me very low, and left me with a heavy, troubled heart. It is certainly time to bring the child here.

NATALIE

I was happy coming in from my afternoon with the girls. It’s been so long since we had “girl time,” and it was great to laugh and talk with them again. Thinking about them and Riley’s blessed news, I had a big smile on my face when I found Jack in his office. He wasn’t unpacking, but sitting staring out the window, deep in thought. I stroked my hand along his long hair and kissed his cheek. “What’s up, sweetie?”

He glanced up at me with a grim look on his face. “Natalie, love.” He took my hand and pulled me onto his knee. I instantly thought the worst.

“Has someone called about Jeff? Has he gotten worse?”

He shook his head. “No … no, love. I spoke with the social worker about Edwin.”

“Edwin?” I was puzzled.

“Yes, the boy who I caught thieving. Miss Chandler, the woman in charge of the youngster, did not have good news. The boy is indeed in a state home and is not doing well.” Jack turned me to look into my eyes. “She will be here in two days to meet with us.”

“Here? To meet with us? What have you done, Jack?”

“Nothing, my love. The woman just wishes to know if we can be proper caretakers for the boy. Apparently, it is required before he can live with us.”

“Proper caretakers? Jack, I know you want to bring him here, but you should have talked to me first. I don’t think it’s a good idea. We don’t know anything about this kid.”

“Miss Chandler has said there is a process, my love. First she meets with us, then we meet with her and the boy.” He patted my knee and stood me up. “All will be well. You’ll see.”

“But, Jack –”

“It will be fine, my dear,” he said firmly. “Now, what’s for afternoon tea?”

I watched as his back retreated through the door and out of sight. Huffing to myself, I picked up the phone and dialed Riley. “You won’t believe what Jack just did!”

VALERIE

This afternoon I went for a long walk. I walked all the way around our vineyard, carefully staying clear of the stream and avoiding the big building with the wine vats. Daddy was probably in there. He’s always in there, unless he working to clear the fields or on the phone with Christina or worse yet, out with her.

Today I got my period. It’s no big deal or anything. I don’t like seeing the blood, but the belly ach isn’t so bad. It’s just that on days like this, everything seems to matter more. And this day, everything seemed really, really bad. I’m just a kid. I’m not supposed to have worries; at least that’s what mom always used to say. Maybe since she died I’ve stopped being a kid. Maybe I am supposed to have worries. I don’t know.

I went back toward the house expecting it to be empty but at least it would be warm. That morning, daddy gave me a pretty Valentine card and a sweet teddy bear. The card was nice but maybe I’m too big for the teddy bear. Maybe I’m not. I really like it and put it on my bed with the other stuffed toys I love most. Maybe I’ll sleep with it tonight. I’ll hide it so daddy won’t know.

I checked the mailbox but didn’t get a Valentine from Jacob and that made me start crying. Now I can’t stop. I was surprised to see daddy sitting at the kitchen table. He looked sad but I didn’t want him to see me crying so I ran upstairs. He followed.

“Valerie? Sweetheart? Is everything alright?”

He just walked into my room and I wish he’d knock first. He should knock first. I’m not a baby am I?

“Why are you crying, honey?” He sat beside me and I did what I didn’t want to do. I crawled onto his lap and I cried and cried and cried. “Is it the time of your blood?”

“My period, daddy. It’s my period. And what does that have to do with anything?” I was so mad!

“Shh. Come on, sweetheart. Hush now. I just wondered because you seem so … upset. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Daddy, everything’s wrong! Maxi is never around anymore. All he talks about is moving out and getting away from us. You’re always doing winery stuff … or you’re always with Chrisssstinnnaaaa. And Jacob. I’m so scared about Jacob. I miss him and I’m scared for him. He lost his mom too and he’s so little and the kids at school aren’t so nice to him all the time. I kinda understand why he ran away, but I’m still really scared for him.”

“Valerie,” daddy said, looking into my eyes. “Do you know where Jacob went?”

I shook my head and cried harder. “I’m just so scared and I’m … I’m so lonely. I feel like I lost all my friends! Like I lost Jacob and Maxi and even you!”

“Aw Valerie, honey you know you’re the love of my life. My whole life. You’re so dear to me I can’t even put it into words. I’m sorry I work so much and I promise to ease up a bit, make time for you and me. Or maybe you’d like to be a part of what I do? We can do that too. But you have to know you are the most important thing to me.”

“More important than Chrisssstinnnaaaa?”

“Yes, love. More important that Christina. Valerie, tell me, would you be happier if I stopped seeing her?”

I thought about that for a long time, thinking about it from every angle and finally I just huffed. “No. You can see her. I guess she makes you happy.”

“Well, you make me happier. Now, give us a smile, darling.”

I couldn’t smile. It was like I had no smiles left inside me. “Daddy? Why did you look so sad downstairs?”

“Oh honey,” he cuddled me close. “Do you remember meeting Jeff Wigand?”

“Yes, that old guy married to Kelly who owns the gift shop. I remember him. He gave me a really cool science book for Christmas.”

“Well, he’s very sick. He’s in the hospital. He had a heart attack today.”

“I’m so sorry. He’s a nice man. Daddy?”

He held me even tighter. “Yes, my little love?”

“Is everything going to be alright?”

“Yes, my little love. Yes.”