GERRY KENNEDY

Internet is useful. You can order stuff on it. I just ordered a complete PA system, according to the specs of that elusive siren residing at the Inn. Oh yeah, eventually she rang me back, and I’ve come up with enough valid excuses to phone and/or text her almost every day. We’ve become regular phone mates. Look, I know John is on my side, he thinks we’d be good together. I just know we’d be good together, I mean, Jesus. Just look at her. She’s gorgeous. Not to mention fun and smart.

Now, the good thing about this Internet deal is that you can get stuff cheaper, if you take the time to do your research, and (and this is a huge bonus to me) it gets delivered to your front door. So if all goes well, Kennedy’s Corner Pub will be ready to rock ‘n’ roll come Saturday, and I intend to take Jackie out to dinner before the gig and drive her back home after, and I’m gearing up for a long, slow goodbye snog.

Or maybe, just maybe, if I’m the luckiest guy on earth, I’ll get her to stay over. At my place. Oh well, a guy can dream, can’t I?

One thing worries me though. Max Skinner. What is he up to, exactly?

I printed another batch of flyers, drove up to the Inn to deliver some, and saw Jackie come out of the basement, dressed in coveralls, covered in paint… Skinner was right behind her, chatting away in that posh way of his, and she was laughing. He looked even worse than she; he had paint on his face, paint in his hair … what did he do, hurl himself at the freshly painted wall and see if he made a nice impression?

JACKIE

That lunch that Maxi had arranged? Good lord. It was fantastic. I could have just sat there chatting with him forever. He’s so nice. And I mean really nice. And he looked really nice too, especially in the candlelight, and the fire. There’s something about his eyes. The colour, the … I dunno. He’s just really charming; a little shy, a little posh; he comes out with these really harsh, callous comments from time to time, but then he gives you that look that is at once apologetic and a little cheeky, and I think he’s just completely irresistible. I can’t believe he hasn’t got millions of women swarming around him.

Yeah, can’t seem to stop talking about Maxi. Can’t seem to stop thinking about him either. Riley’s laughing her head off; apparently she and John are having a little difference of opinion on the matter. John is in favour of Gerry. And hey, Gerry’s a good lad (he calls me all the time), but would I offer my help painting his office? Voluntarily wear coveralls and get paint all over me? Just so I can spend a little time with him and find out once again he’s actually very well read, has been to a good school and can be extremely funny in that typically British self-deprecating way that just kills me on the spot?

I need to prepare for the gig though, can’t do the same songs all over again. Need to check in with Kim and Emily as well, see how hey are getting on.

MAX SKINNER

…and then she comes down to where I’m sweating away, painting the walls of my little self-imposed prison cell, looking a fright no doubt (I always manage to get almost as much paint on me as I get on the walls; the basic skill of painting is there, now to learn how to do it without making an unholy mess of both myself and the place I’m supposed to paint. Who said life was easy?), and she asks me if I could use a little help.

Well, yeah!

I mean, come on! I, of course, leaned a hand against the wall, trying to look casual and suave, and completely forgot it was a section of wall I had only just painted. Bollocks. One hand covered in icky goo. Then five second later, as she’s chatting away, obviously trying not to laugh her arse off, I have to run my hand through my hair, again, in a futile attempt to come across as casual, in control.  She lost it then. She laughed so hard it brought tears to her eyes, but right before I started to feel like a complete disaster, she came over, picked up a cloth, took my hand in hers, turned it over, and wiped my palm clean. Then, she wiped my temple, which was of course also covered in paint by now. The hair, she said, I’d have to sort out for myself.

It was the gentleness of it that did me in. She wasn’t really laughing at me at all. I mean she was, but she wasn’t. You know?

So I got her my spare coveralls (I bought two, just in case, and yes, I am a control freak) and a roller, and off we went. We chatted and laughed and one part of my mind slowly became completely preoccupied with kissing her again. And I mean completely. It was a fairly large portion of my mind, actually, and it made performing any other basic physical function close to impossible. Speech was faltering. I found myself drifting towards her, absentmindedly painting over sections of wall that were already taken care of.

She just laughed at me more, in that particular manner that of hers I found so surprisingly inoffensive, and I grinned along stupidly until I managed to say something useful.

“Will you come along with me to Stowe to pick out a curtain for the window?”

She grinned back at me and simply said, “yeah, sure. Let’s go!”

JEFF WIGAND

I am home from the hospital. It’s a relief I can hardly describe but quickly becoming a nightmare. It’s my full intention to do what the doctors tell me plus a little more. I’ve been walking the steps several times a day, eating right and even plan to take a stroll around the block this afternoon. I’m seriously considering taking the recommended leave of absence and perhaps writing a book. Recovery is pretty much as I expected. But … one thing I did not expect was that Kelly would also take time off from the shop and basically be in my face, twenty-four-seven.

Don’t get me wrong. I adore my beautiful wife … at least the woman who was my beautiful wife before I had the heart attack. I’ve been home for six days now and I hardly recognize my Kelly. Alright, I will secretly admit that I hate her spending so much time with the gift shop, but I also never expected every element of my life, every choice, every single stinking decision … to be made by the overprotective nursemaid she’s become.

Twice she shouted at me from the steps to get back up to the apartment and into bed. Quite embarrassing, as the customers down there heard her bellow, one of them a student of mine coming to wish me well.

And now I am bundling for an escape. What was intended to be a leisurely stroll around the block to get some exercise, smile and assure my neighbors that I am still among the living … has become a desperate necessity. I managed to get three houses away when my wife came running, no coat, wearing my old galoshes and waving her arms. If there weren’t tears in her eyes I might have simply let the argument blast, right there on Main Street. My recovering heart melted.

“Baby, what the hell are you doing? I’m just taking a little walk. Go on back, get your coat and join me, honey.” My hope was that she’d take me up on the idea. If she doesn’t and I end up back in that damn bed like an invalid, I will need to call in reinforcements. Claudia might be able to get it through to Kelly that I’m going to be just fine … if she’ll let me out of the damn sickbed!

KELLY

I’m terrified I’ll lose him.

I stood there on the sidewalk in the blistering cold, looking at Jeff as if my life depended on his being forever in my eyesight. What if he slipped and fell? What if he has another heart attack? I couldn’t bear having anything happen to him, but if it does, I plan on being close by. My own heart simply can’t endure another frightening phone call where someone informs me that my husband has fallen horribly ill or worse.

I didn’t want to let him out of my sight, but there he stood asking me to join him for a walk. A walk! He should be upstairs where it’s warm and comfortable, yet here he is, mucking around in the snow and cold. I felt my lip quiver in frustration, but his jaw was set in that stubborn way that I know so well. Either we stood out here in front of the entire neighborhood arguing, or I run back to get my coat and join him as he suggested.

“Don’t go anywhere until I come back.” I gave him my sternest look and he scowled back in answer. Those dammed boots flopped about me like a circus clown’s oversized shoes, but when I came moments later wearing my parka I was relieved to find him still waiting for me. He even smiled.

I reached for his hand and held it tight. “Are you sure you’re not too cold?”

He took a deep breath and when he exhaled the mist circled around him like the smoke from a simmering dragon. “Sweetheart, I’m fine. The cold air actually feels quite good.”

“I just don’t want you to catch a chill.”

“We’re not going far. I thought it might be nice to head up to the far corner and back. Think you can spare fifteen minutes away from the shop?”

Of course I could. Even if I couldn’t, there was no way I would have let him make this walk all on his own. “Rhonda has everything under control.” Rhonda was one of my part time employees, a mother of three who helped out at the shop while her children were in school.

He wrapped my arm around his and gave a wistful sigh. “Remember how we used to take long walks last year right after we first met? I miss doing that.”

I thought back to those times, realizing that I missed them as well. But somehow along the way, our lives became busy and complicated. What I wouldn’t give to get some of that back again.

“We used to take pictures. Remember how Riley hunted us down like naughty school children when we first started dating?” Jeff laughed at the memory. “Nathan was still being lugged around in his snuglie and we laughed about it for days afterwards.”

Jeff tightened his hold on my arm. “You know, we haven’t laughed together like that in a while. We should make time to do that more often.”

We finished our walk in thoughtful silence. Jeff’s steps were slow and careful and I listened closely to make sure he wasn’t breathing hard or overexerting himself. When we got back to the shop his face had a lot more color and his eyes were almost shining, but I could tell that he was already tired. I started to help him upstairs but he tensed up again.

“Sweetheart, you’re hovering. Watch me from the bottom of the stairs if you want, but I can manage the steps on my own.”

I nodded, biting my lip harder as he took on each step. When he reached the top he turned around and waved.

“Now go back to work, or come upstairs and join me for the rest of the afternoon.”

I wished I could. Maybe I’d close the shop a little early, but remembered I had an important shipment coming at four. Rhonda would be leaving at 3:30. “I’ll be up a little later. Keep your cell phone close by.”

I caught his grimace right before he turned to open the door and go inside and I felt an ache in my heart. Doesn’t he realize how worried I am about him?

CLAUDIA

I had just closed the office, just finished my last report to the doctors caring for my home patients. I poked my head into the security room and Antony grinned.

“Done for the day?” he asked and I nodded. It had been rough, catching up on everything after our week at Maximus’ vineyard. But the trip had been an amazing blessing. Antony has experienced no further nightmares and I had chosen that evening to finally accept his proposal of marriage. Oh yes, he’d proposed before, but never quite like this.

He seemed so relieved after we left Sonoma, that he told me his heart belonged fully to me, that he wouldn’t be whole until he found a priest to marry us … and that he knew, really knew that everything was exactly as it should be. Nice sentiments all, but this time I felt a real shift in his meaning. It isn’t that I wasn’t sure of his heart, I wasn’t sure of his soul. Now I knew it was part and parcel of the man I love. So … tonight I say yes. What difference a marriage will make is beyond me. We are as married as two people will ever be. But Antony wants this and because of that, so do I. In fact I must admit … I want it with all my heart.

I was thinking about the special dinner I wanted to cook, about lighting the fireplace and a few candles, making it especially romantic. For Antony, a mere look is romantic enough to have him off to the races, but I wanted tonight to be exceptional. He still had a few hours on duty and I planned to take full advantage of the time. A shower, sweet smelling skin lotion, curl my hair … all the girly stuff that will make me feel sexy and pretty. Of course, there was the new lingerie I hadn’t had a chance to wear since I bought it last fall. Yes, the evening promised to be perfect.

Until my cell rang.

“Claudia, I need you.”

It was Jeff Wigand and I steady my voice.

“Chest pain?”

“Nope.”

“Fever? Severe weakness?”

“No.”

“Any pain at all?”

“Yes, one in the butt and her name is Kelly,” he groaned. “Can you please come over here and talk to her? She’s driving me up a tree with her overprotective nanny routine.”

I sighed, glanced to the closed security door. “I’m on my way.” With a little luck I can do the standard Post Heart Attack Lecture and be back in time to at least take a shower.

But, I’m a nurse and a good nurse can never be too prepared. I called Jeff’s physician for any special instructions and discovered that there was a prescription still awaiting pick-up at the drug store. I stopped by to collect it and headed into the gift shop. Kelly was sitting on the bottom of the steps to her apartment, balancing a ton of paperwork on her knees, reviewing her books and simultaneously overseeing the strolling customers in the shop. She looked up, alarm in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, hon. Just here for a little follow-up. Did you know you forgot to get these?” I handed the meds into her hands and Kelly, not surprisingly, broke into tears. I felt so bad for her, actually stood to shield her emotions from the customers.

“Oh … oh God … oh I was supposed to pick those up for Jeff this morning! Oh!”

“Hey, chill. There’s nothing serious here, it’s a mild antidepressant … and from the sound of things when Jeff called, depression isn’t his problem. What’s going on, Kelly?”

“I’m so scared,” she gasped. “Already I’m forgetting his medications! I’m making him mad all the time. Do you know he forced me to take a walk down the block with him this afternoon?”

“Down the block, huh? Well, first of all, I can’t imagine a man in his condition forcing you to do anything. Second, that may be a bit a little too far for his first trip outside. But he should have been walking a little everyday. Isn’t he?” I knew what I was doing. Luckily, Kelly didn’t.

“Oh. He’s supposed to walk outside?”

“Is he refusing? I’ll need to have a talk with him right now.”

“No!” Kelly stood, her paperwork cascading to the floor as she blocked my path up to the apartment. “No, uh … damn. Claudia, this is all my fault. It’s me. It’s my fault. I’m afraid to let him walk. He seems so weak, so frail. I’m terrified something’ll happen to him.”

“Well yes, something will happen to him. Honey, if he doesn’t strengthen the heart muscle, he’s going to have another heart attack. It’s that simple. I’ve spoken with his doctors and Jeff is to walk the steps at least once a day, no more than twice … and take a nice level walk outside when the weather permits. It’s not too bad for Vermont right now. He should walk a few houses down and back, then a little further next week, and a little further the week after. But he must exercise every day, Kelly. None of this lying around in bed. It’s your job to make sure he does what he has to do but doesn’t do too much. Can you handle that?”

“The steps once and a short walk every day … further next week. Um, what if the weather is bad? Snow or ice or freezing rain or –”

“Hey, use you best judgment. In the mid-thirties on a sunny afternoon is perfect. Fifteen below in a blizzard … let him walk laps inside the shop. You know how to take care of him. The objective here is to get him strong again.”

Kelly nodded, tears streaking her face. I hugged her.

“Listen, nothing’s wrong. If you weren’t worried about him I’d be worried about you. This is normal, but … it has to stop. He needs exercise and he heeds emotional support. You two fight nice and quit making each other crazy. Now … if he’s fine and doesn’t need a nurse, I’ve got a man to get home to. Are we cool?”

“We’re cool.”

“You call me with any questions; I’m only fifteen minutes away if there’s a problem. If you follow the routine and don’t let him sign up for any marathons in the next few months, we’ll see him as strong as he ever was.”

KIM

Somehow, my plan to have Emmie preferring to spend her free time at my place instead of her own apartment seems to be working. Whether it’s due to my own efforts or dumb luck, I really don’t care. With each visit she leaves more of her stuff behind; already her clothes have taken over half the space in my closet, she keeps most of her makeup and toiletries on the counter in my bathroom, and she even keeps her mountain bike in my garage. (“There’s more space at your place,” she says.) She regularly takes care of her laundry using my washer and dryer, and she’s stocked the refrigerator full of her favorite foods. 

But I’m beginning to realize that my wish comes with a price. It’s nothing openly stated on Emmie’s part, but I’d have to be a total drongo not to realize what’s up and about. See, most sheilas have this strange desire to know the tiny details of their bloke’s life; it’s like it’s some sort of test, although I reckon I don’t really understand the purpose. And Emmie’s no exception, asking questions about my childhood and my family.

“Just watch my movie. It’ll tell you everything you need to know.” I’ve used this line with her before, but she wasn’t having any of it this afternoon. We’d left the office a little early; we’d been working nonstop with putting together a campaign to attract more corporate and local businesses clients to the Inn, and it was actually Riley who suggested an afternoon off. 

“I already know that you can be an insufferable arrogant twit.” Emmie stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, wearing a pair of black leggings and one of my old grey sweaters. It hung nearly to her knees, but I kinda like it when she wears my clothes. The dimple on her left cheek was showing and her eyes were teasing. “But you never talk about your childhood.”

I leaned back on the couch and looked into the blaze that was glowing in the fireplace in front of me. “Well, if John’s experiences in the Portal holds true, none of it ever happened anyway.”

“That’s a cop out.” She padded over in her thickly stocking feet (again, mine) and knelt down before me. “What about Amanda Jean having red curly hair just like Lachlan’s mother? Jessie said that no one in her family has ever had red hair, so there’s got to be more to it.”

I reached out to take her hand and she edged in closer between my legs. “Coincidence.”

“I’m serious. I really want to know. You know all about my family and one day I’ll even get around to having you meet ‘em. But I’ll never have that chance with your family.”

“You’ve met all my family, Emmie. They’re all here in Vermont. Well, most of ‘em, anyway.”

“Kimmie, please. Is it really all so terrible? I know the memories are there. Jessie says Lachlan talks about his all the time.”

“Well, Lach’s always been a bit of a magpie. He’ll talk up a blue streak if you let him.”

Emmie wasn’t swayed. She rested her elbows on top of my thighs and tilted her head in a way that made her look like a pouty little girl. I felt my emotional blockade faltering.

“Most of my memories about my family aren’t very pleasant. My dad was a hard drinking roustabout and he felt it was his right to use my mum as his punching bag. When he got tired of her, he started in on me.”

“Oh babe, I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I left home not long after she died. I think she just gave up.”

“Why didn’t she just leave?”

“Because she was embarrassed. You didn’t talk about such things; it was private. I tried to convince her to leave him a lot of times. I even told her that I’d quit school and start work and take care of her, but she wouldn’t have any of it. I think she knew that my dad would just track her down and make her go back.”  I felt her fingertips gently stroking my forearm and I tried to smile. 

“What was your mother’s name? What did she look like?”

“Her name was Rachel. She was a little on the plump side, with short brown hair and green eyes. She’d wanted to be an actress when she was younger, but then she met my father. She used to tell me that he hadn’t always been so angry, but nothing ever seemed to go right for him. He had problems keeping a job and there never seemed to be enough money. She said he was broken and didn’t have the strength of character to be any other way. And she liked to sing, but only when my father wasn’t around. Her favorite song was Danny Boy, of all things.”

“That’s such a sad song.”

“I know.”

She edged up from off the floor and parked her sweet bum on my lap, straddling my hips as she gazed deep into my eyes. “Thank you for telling me; I can understand why it hurts to remember.”

She kissed me then, soft and gentle as I breathed in deep, smelling her perfume and the scent of her skin and hair. I accepted her sweet comfort, only then realizing that my heart actually ached with the remembering, but Emmie’s presence felt safe and solid.

“I guess I just want to let the ghosts rest. It is what it is.”

She touched my forehead with hers and we were nose to nose. I think we were both just content to stay like that for a little while, sharing a private moment. I probably could have sat there for hours but the sudden ringing of my front doorbell put a quick kill on the moment.

“Ignore it.” Emmie suggested.

Another ring, followed by urgent knocking. Then an unmistakably recognizable voice called out.

“Kiiiiiim! I know you’re home! It’s Staceeeey!”

Emmie actually growled as she climbed off of me. “What in the world could that weirdo possibly want?”  

I had no bloody idea, but knew it was pointless to ignore her. The crazy bird would start trying to peek in the windows if I didn’t get up and answer the door.

“That woman needs a lesson in respecting one’s boundaries,” Emmie grumbled. “And a good swift kick in the ass.” She jumped off the couch and huffed her way down the hallway toward my bedroom. “Let me know when she’s gone. “

I took a deep breath and opened the door, bracing myself for what lie on the other side. Stacey La Plant bore a striking resemblance to Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, minus the black dress and about thrity years older.

“Mrs. La Plant, what a lovely surprise.”

She looked like she’d just woken up; her blue black hair was piled on top of her head in a matted bun and her lipstick was smeared on her upper lip. Never mind the dark mascara circles underneath her eyes. In her hand was a brown paper wrapped package tied with string.

“Honey, I need a favor. The UPS man is a friend of mine and he’s supposed to stop by before five, but I have to take care of an emergency. Is it okay if I leave a note on my door telling him to stop on over here for it?”

I really didn’t want to, but it seemed like a simple enough request. I mean really, what could it hurt if I agreed to help her out?

“Okay, love. You sure this bloke will come by tonight?”

Stacey grinned, and I got a disturbing glimpse of what looked like spinach stuck between her front teeth. “It’s all arranged. I won’t be back until late, and it simply must get it sent out today.”

She held the box out to me. “I really appreciate this favor. I’ll pay you back by baking up a couple dozen coconut macaroons. You do like macaroons, don’t you?”

Actually, I hated ‘em. But to tell her this would only give her an excuse to keep standing on my front doorstep. “Thank you, Mrs. La Plant. That would be smashing,”

The old bird actually gave a curtsey before turning in her spiky high red heels and making her wobbly way down the steps and across the front walk. I watched her for a second, closing the door after she waved goodbye.

“What was that all about?”  Emily asked as she made her way from the bedroom.

I set the box down on the kitchen counter, noting that it was addressed to a Peabody Kruger in Transylvania County, North Carolina.  

“Just doing a neighborly favor.”

Emmie shuddered. “That woman gives me the creeps.”

I took her in my arms and pulled her close. “She’s harmless. Annoying as hell, but harmless.”

Emmie burrowed her nose into my shoulder then gave out a yelp.

“Oh my God…that package just moved!”

I turned my head sharply, and sure enough, the bloody package rocked just slightly before coming still again.

I glanced at the clock; three PM. If the courier wasn’t on my doorstep at five o’clock sharp, that box was going out into the garage.

EGAN

It’s a little early to know just how well the counseling sessions are going where Jacob’s behavior is concerned, but so far, there have been no tantrums and only one episode of bed wetting. I’ve been taking the doctor’s advice and tryin’ to set aside time just for the two of us; we built a snowman down by the gazebo after school yesterday and Riley liked it so much that she had me take a picture of it with her and Jacob and Nathan. She gave Jacob a big carrot for the nose and used one of John’s old scarves for around its neck. We didn’t have a top hat, but Riley found an old straw hat that she said used to belong to their gardener and she fastened it with an artificial sunflower that she dug from out from  somewhere. I have to admit that I had a good bit of fun myself; it’s been a long time since I tussled about in the snow. 

With Skinner’s house almost completed, I’ve been able to cut out a little earlier than usual this week. I picked Jacob up from Jessie and Lachlan’s this afternoon, turning down the invitation to stay over for dinner. Jacob looked a little disappointed, but I was proud of him when he didn’t stir up a big fuss.

“We can have some of Samantha’s leftover macaroni and cheese,” I told him after we’d arrived back at the Inn.

“Dad, can I call Samantha?” He shrugged off his jacket after we came inside and hung it up on the hook beside the door. “I’m worried about Bella.”

Bella was the name that Samantha had given to Jacob’s dog, and it seemed to have stuck.

“She might be working.”

He shook his head. “No she isn’t. She’s off on Thursdays.” He reached for the phone and started to dial. I was mildly surprised to see that he’d remembered her number, but didn’t press the matter. After all, there really wasn’t a good enough reason for him not to call her.

“Just don’t keep her on the phone for too long if she’s busy.”

Why was I trying to turn an innocent phone call into an issue? Samantha was there for me when Jacob went missing, and she and the boy had taken quite a liking to each other. It was obvious in how he’d eaten every bite of the dinner she’d prepared for us and in the big hug he’d given her later the other evening when we left her house. I admit I was a little jealous that I wasn’t able to give her a hug of my own, but now isn’t the time for me to be thinkin’ about callin’ after a woman.

How selfish would that be? Jacob needs structure and security, and even though Samantha is someone I’d like to have the chance of getting closer to, fate has a way of deliverin’ nasty surprises. It would be devastating for him if she and I started dating and things didn’t work out. But we could be friends, I reasoned. I enjoyed her company, and it felt good to spend time with her. She certainly seemed to enjoy spendin’ time with us the other night.

I left Jacob to his phone call, tryin’ not to eavesdrop but noting the happy animated sound of his voice. I busied myself with emptying the dishwasher and I was just about finished when Jacob came into the kitchen to find me.

“Dad, Samantha would like to talk to you.” He handed me the phone and scampered off towards his bedroom.

“You wash your hands and face and take off those boots.” I called after him before puttin’ the phone to my ear.

“Hey Dad, what’s up?”

Samantha’s voice was cheerful and I imagined her on the other end, smilin’. “Your macaroni and cheese for starters. Just can’t decide whether corn bread or broccoli would go better with chicken nuggets.”

“Jacob told me he really likes broccoli.”

I chuckled. “When did he tell you this?”

“A few minutes ago. He told me all about his day at school and I let him speak to Bella.”

“Bella talks on the phone?”

“Of course she does, silly. Didn’t you know that she’s a wonder dog?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”

“Hey, how was your day? I thought about you when I drove by the Skinner house while on duty last night.”

“Chasing after bad guys?”

She laughed. “Something like that. Hey, my uncle called me this morning and he’ll be leaving to bring Oljee to me on Sunday evening. He figures it’ll take about four days to get here; he’s driving up with my cousin and they’ll take turns at the wheel. Anyway, you interested in going riding next weekend? We could bring Jacob and take him out to dinner afterwards … my treat.”

Jacob wasn’t overly fond of horses, but maybe it was time I started getting him used to being around them. “I think you’ve got yourself a date. Name the time.”

“Oh, maybe around noon? I’ll call you next Thursday if I don’t speak to you before then to reconfirm, but it’ll be fun. You need to get out more, Egan Walsh.”

“I’ll remember that, ma’am.” We spoke a few more moments about nothing in particular, and after we hung up I couldn’t help smiling the rest of the evening. Samantha was right; I needed to get out more, and I couldn’t think of better company. 

COLIN

I arrived in Vegas ahead of the team, not really wantin’ to stay in California any longer than absolutely necessary. I guess I was still stingin’ from my encounter with Carrie.

Or should I say, my attempted encounter. I was curious to see how she was getting on, and convinced myself that it would be the polite and gentlemanly thing to do. While I didn’t think she’d appreciate my showin’ up on her doorstep unannounced, I tried to contact her on her cell, but the line was forwarded to her office. When the receptionist answered I explained who I was, she informed me that Miss Dexter was in a meeting and had left instructions not to be disturbed by anyone. When I tried to get it through the daft bird’s skull that I was Miss Dexter’s husband, she suggested that I make an appointment.
Bloody hell. I was about to rent a car and drive straight to the fucking office, but after a few tense moments, I decided that instead of doing something I’d end up regretting, I was better off getting my arse out of California as quickly as possible.

Vegas was sweltering, but I didn’t mind. After all the weeks of the cold and snow in Vermont it felt good, like a good solid kick in the arse. I avoided the casinos, spending some time courtin’ possible sponsors and the rest of the time nappin’ by the hotel pool. It was nice to be anonymous for a little bit before the necessary media junkets. It gave me time to think about where the team and my life was headin’.

I was proud of how the new employees had managed to fit in quickly with our established old timers. Oscar Fuentes had a knack for hiring on the best folks for the job, and no one surprised me more than his daughter, Vicki. While our first meeting had been plain awkward, I was relieved to find out that she was a bonzer mechanic, just as her brother Richard had claimed. The minute she pulled on her coveralls she was all business, without a hint of the bad attitude and minus any chip on her shoulder.

I had previously warned Cliff Stall, our pit crew leader, to keep an eye on her. But by the end of the first week he was impressed enough with her performance to give her a nickname of sorts; Mamacita.  And I’ll be dammed if the rest of the crew hasn’t started using the nickname as well. I guess first appearances really can be deceiving, and I’ll admit to being more than a bit relieved that it looked like things were working out for the best after all. Hando would be happy and I had one less headache to worry about. For now.

NATALIE

I have to admit that when Jack first talked about bringing the boy/theif from the convenience store here to live, I was dubious. I wasn’t sure it would be the best thing for us. There was so much on our plate already; new house, new business … and Catherine so recently gone. We should have been focusing on us and rebuilding our life, not bringing in a young and possibly very troubled little boy. And there was Chelsea to think about. She’s barely a year old and needs attention. Would this boy demand too much of our time? And how would he react to a baby in the house?

But Jack … he’s so direct when he wants something. And he wanted Eddie. There was something about this kid that spoke to his heart, and who am I to deny him that? So, despite my worries and misgivings, I’m going through the hoops with him to become potential adaptive parents. We’ve filled out our paperwork and met with Erica Chandler, the Child Services counselor twice. She’s come to our home for the home check, and now she’s bringing the boy here for a visit, just for the afternoon, to see how he’ll react us and the farm.

It was my first time meeting him, and he wasn’t what I expected. I’d expected a big, tough, menacing kid. Maybe a bully, I suppose, one who wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. Instead, what sat across from me in our living room was a small, frightened boy. He didn’t look twelve years old, and he almost cowered in the corner of the couch until I brought Chelsea out. Eddie’s eyes lit up and he asked to hold her. I looked to Erica, who nodded, and handed her to Eddie’s waiting arms.

“She really likes books, Eddie,” I said as I passed her over. “Would you like to read to her?”

He looked up at me, big brown eyes wide, “Yeah.” So I brought him The Tale of Peter Rabbit to read, and he kept all of us entertained with the story of Peter, Farmer McGregor, and the loss of his blue jacket. Chelsea was enthralled, and we adults were too.

Later, Jack took us outside to the barn and introduced Eddie to Licorice. At first, he was a little hesitant. Here was this big man, the man who caught him stealing, showing him this big black horse. I would be intimidated, too. But Eddie warmed up when Jack handed him a half an apple to give to Licorice. Eddie held it out, just as Jack showed him, and Licorice, the gentle soul he is, gently took it from Eddie’s hand. The smile on the boy’s face was wider than the Grand Canyon, and finally, I could see what Jack saw and what Erica had been telling us. This was a good kid who needs a good home, and I wanted more than anything to give him one.

JACK

Young Eddie’s visit went well and the lad had thoroughly charmed my wife. Oh, I was aware of her misgivings, but Miss Chandler suggested that a meeting between the two might prove fruitful; and, so it was. We are now continuing on course and the boy will soon come here to live.

Now I can turn my mind fully to the new business. There is so much to do; new stables must be built, horses to be bought. And it seems we are expanding even before we begin! Mr. Hoffstetter is retiring and closing his boarding stable. We met yesterday and he proposed I take over his business. What joy! Yes … there is much work ahead. And, as capable as dear Natalie is concerning business, she has no way with horses. So, I must have help from some other quarter. It occurred to me that Egan may wish to leave the building trade and return to his first love, but alas, his answer was no. He was deeply committed to his life with young Jacob, enjoyed construction, and he did not wish to let Lachlan down. He suggested an alternative, however, one I did not think of at first; brother East.

After the breakup of the Temple and the scattering of the family, we had not heard much of East. But Egan had kept up a sporadic contact over the years. Our brother had settled in Montana as a hired hand on one of the large horse ranches there, and for a time was content. But, he had grown increasingly unhappy. Apparently, the management of the ranch had decided that the tourist trade was more lucrative than raising horses and cattle, and the ranch became what is now commonly known as a “dude ranch.” Brother East was not pleased to play “cowboy to a bunch of city-folk.”

Agreeing that he is the perfect choice and that our timing is impeccable, I phoned East immediately and extended my invitation.

ANTONY

When I left my office Claudia was not in the cottage. Perhaps she is trying to tell me that my repeated proposals of marriage are unwelcome? Perhaps marriage is not necessary for us? Ah, but in many ways I wish to be like the others in this strange family. I wish to sire children and fight, love and struggle, laugh and be tested all under the shelter of marriage in this century.

It is not as marriage in my time. Yes we had marriage. It served its purposes, whether it was designed for financial or political gain, for land or even a few goats. Of course it was designed for breeding, creating heirs and assuring a man’s lineage. But that is as far as the similarities went.

Two women I have loved in my time … truly, completely loved and neither were wives to me. One was a beautiful, red-haired harpy who drove me mad with pleasure and strife … the other a queen who claimed herself a god and took me to her heavens as another god at her side … and to her hell too, it seems. With both women, I also had many partners in my bed. Some alone, some several at a time. Some slaves and some noble women. But never was my sexual need exclusively dedicated to one woman.

And now, I live in this time. Now I am healed by the goddess Minerva who has repaired my wounded soul from the battle of the life I lived. Now … I want one wife, one lover … and oddly enough I wish them to be the same woman. Claudia.

Last night I again plied her with my request. She was to answer me this night. And she is not here.

I looked into the kitchen and there was no meal being prepared. I checked the bedroom and she had not turned down the bed. Just as my heart sank with fear that she had left me, the phone rang.

“Antony. Can you please come out to the gazebo? I have someone here for you to meet.”

I grunted, donned my heavy coat and trudged into the snow. A few yards away from the cottage I glanced to the sky. The moon was full, brilliant, speaking softly on the wind and I wondered how much longer winter would last. I wondered if perhaps Claudia would grant my wish and we can wed in the spring. And … I wondered who had gotten onto the property unseen that she was waiting with. Should I be concerned?

As I stepped closer I watched my love, standing under the gazebo roof with a man. A man I recognized. He was old judge Miller, a man strongly supporting John’s candidacy for mayor.

“Judge,” I called and waved. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, my boy,” he smiled. “I am here to help you with something. Lovely Claudia here has asked me to marry you two … right here … right now. Here comes John and Riley to witness. I think we are prepared to move ahead … if you agree to marry this pretty lady, that is.”

I gasped and looked to Claudia.

“Antony, I’m finally saying yes. Oh, I wanted this to be so romantic but I had an emergency call in town, then another one and another after that … then I ran into Judge Miller and I got this crazy idea. I really do want to be your wife and I was kind of hoping we could make that official right here under that delicious moon.”

“Yeah,” chimed John with a pretend scowl. “Can we get on with this? It’s getting cold out here.”

“Will you marry me, Antony?” Claudia asked.

“I will.”

“Right here, right now, no matter how cold we are?”

“I am not cold, my love.” I turned to the judge. “You may proceed.”

“Oh, one second,” Claudia gasped then rose on her toes to whisper in my ear. “Just promise me one thing Marc Antony.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll let me shower and put on my sexy underwear before we consummate this marriage. Just once I’d like to do that … get beautiful before you devour me.”