EGAN

I reckon I’m a little rusty at this dating thing. I have to laugh when I think back to my life before I knew I was a father; meetin’ sheilas was as simple as a smile and a wink, even after life at the Temple. But there’s so much more at stake these days. I’m not fond of one night stands – not that I haven’t had my share along the way, but let’s face it; I’m getting older and I really have nothing left to prove where the matter’s concerned. But there I was at the end of my official second date with Samantha and I felt as anxious as a schoolboy at the thought of kissin’ her goodnight. As my mate East once said, things change.

I pulled the truck up in front of her house and we both sat there for a long awkward moment after I turned off the engine. Funny how we were talkin’ up a blue streak a few seconds earlier, there we were, both struck dumb as we anticipated the mechanics of what comes next. I had no expectations, but I did have my hopes. The angel on my left shoulder kept remindin’ me that I needed to be a gentleman because Samantha was the kind of woman who demanded respect, while the devil on my other shoulder kept tellin’ me to hurry up and make my move.

Samantha must have had company on her shoulders as well. “It’s still early; would you like to come in for a little bit?”

“You sure? I don’t want to impose …”

She reached for the door handle. “Knock it off, will you? I’m not sixteen years old and neither are you.” She smiled as she said this, her eyes teasing. “That is, unless you have to get the car back to your folks by ten o’clock.”

I like her sense of humor; it’s almost like she reads my mind sometimes and just seems to know how to say the very thing that’ll make me smile.

I scooted out the door and hurried around to meet her. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Not until late morning.” She reached into her purse to search for her keys. From inside the house we could hear Bella barking.

Ever notice how houses have a smell to ‘em? Some smell better than others, but when Samantha opened her door I caught a whiff of incense; not an overpowering smell, but one that reminded me of a warm bath and candlelight. Bella whined softly from her crate in the kitchen and Samantha went off to check on her. A moment later I heard doggie toe nails clicking across the floor as Bella rushed in to greet me.

“Well hello little lady. You’re quite the watch dog.” I knelt down to scratch her ears and laughed when she pushed her wet nose into my face.

Samantha called out from the kitchen. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I put some water in the tea kettle? You in the mood for some hot chocolate and whipped cream?”

I thought of something better to do with a can of whipped cream, and I told the red horned bloke to shut the hell up.

Samantha peeked out from the kitchen. “Did you say something?”

“Um, don’t go to any trouble over me. I think I’m still full from dinner.”

Turning off the light behind her, she padded towards me with her hand out in front of her, beckoning. “Come on and join me on the couch.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I took her hand and followed, happy when she didn’t make a move to turn on the light next to the couch. She snuggled in close and I couldn’t help myself; I leaned over to kiss her.

She snaked her arms around my shoulders (take that, you nosy little bastards) and the next thing I knew I was lying back on the couch with Samantha settled comfortably on top of me with her legs straddlin’ my hips; I went to reach my hands up under her blouse but something wasn’t right.

“Sam …if you’d rather wait, I understand.” It was hard to talk between kisses, but I didn’t want to take advantage.

Samantha pulled away and started unbuttoning her blouse. “Egan, you silly man; I’m practically raping you. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Looks like the red horned devil won out after all. 

NATALIE
 
The past couple of weeks have gone by in a whirl. Chelsea has decided to begin her “terrible twos” early at eighteen months, and her favorite word is now “No!” – said at full volume with as big a scowl as her little face can muster. Add to that her insatiable curiosity, and you’ve got a mom who’s constantly on the lookout for trouble. I think that, when all’s said and done, Chelsea will give Ruthie a run in the headstrong department.

Eddie has started settling in at school, just in time for summer vacation. He’s made some friends, and they all seem to have decided that our house is the cool place to hang. So, almost every afternoon, a small tribe of 12-year-old boys descend on our farm like locusts; making a ruckus and eating everything in sight. But … it’s all good. They’re great kids and I’m really glad Eddie’s finding his place.

The stable … all I can say is thank God for East. The building should be finished by the end of June, and East’s been handling all the details since Jack left. We go over the books every couple of days, and I’m impressed with the way he’s handling the business details. We should be coming in on time and on budget, and Jack and I owe him a great big thanks for his taking over the project.

Still, with all the hustle and bustle since he left, I miss Jack. It’s like our home is a big jigsaw puzzle, but the center piece, the most important piece, is missing. His bad puns, his infectious grin, his absolute joy in his life and his surroundings is what holds all of us together. And we all feel the absence of him.

We fought before he left. I didn’t want him to go. But, deep in my heart, I knew the sea was what he was made for. He’s at his happiest when he can feel the salt water mist in his face and the sea breeze in his hair. As much as he loves me, our family and the farm, his first love will always be the sea.

At night, after everyone’s gone to bed and it’s quiet, I lie awake, listening to the night birds and dream of him.

EDDIE

Damn, I really dodged a bullet with Dean getting arrested and all. I was really afraid I’d be sent back to the home. But that didn’t happen. The Captain said I didn’t have to worry about that, and Natalie said I could stay, too.

My horse, Patches, got here a last week, just like the Captain promised. He was already gone, so he didn’t see her arrive. She was delivered when I was at school, so East put her in the corral for me. He was with her when I got home, had her hooked up on a rope, like a dog leash, and made her go round and round in circles. Exercising her, he said. She’s a cool horse. East has been teaching me all about her; how to feed her, how to clean her stall. Its work and I hate work. But, it’s been fun, too. He’s showing me how to ride. We’ve been out a couple of times and so far, we’ve only walked and trotted. Trotting’s a bitch. I feel like I’m being tossed around, but East said I’ll get the hang of it; with practice I’ll start moving with Patches, instead of against her. All I know is I can’t wait until we can gallop!

RILEY

I know it sounds crazy but I love pregnancy hormones! I love how changeable I am and how easily in touch with my many and varied passions I can be when I’m pregnant. Granted, it’s sometimes confusing to keep swapping emotions, but I like variety. Something about it sets me free from always having to be in control and perfect and watching over every little detail. This was a day for fun; I could feel it vibrating in my bones. The Inn is so quiet right now. We’re barely at thirty percent occupancy and although it’s normal for this ugly spring period between the dissolution of the snow and the beginnings of green baby leaves, it’s a little tough after having lost the last few weeks of the season to the fire damage. Being preggers, I wasn’t about to let it make me crazy. Everything would all work out, I just knew it; that’s positive pregnancy rule number one.

There was little for me to do. Chefs Chris, Andy and Monica had the breakfast and dinner needs covered and everything that was going to be repaired was done. So, a woman has few things to turn to under the circumstances … shoe shopping or a long ladies’ lunch. Shoe shopping required more money than I could justify, as it would require a trip to New York (and a lovely visit with Terry and Eva). At the least I’d need to go to Burlington and who wanted to drive an hour, even for a pair of Gucci pumps? So lunch it was.

It didn’t start out so well though. Natalie was too busy with the farm and Jack away. LizBeth wasn’t around but I left a hopeful message begging her to join me. She and Kevin have been deadly silent since John’s confession about his origins. I’m an optimist and pretty sure that with time they’ll come around. I feel sorry for John who seems lost without Kevin. Kev was his only buddy outside the family and I know he misses that. But now that Kevin knew our secret, maybe the friendship would be different anyway … if and when it got reestablished that is.

Back to planning fun … positive pregnancy rule number two; keep looking ahead.

Tracy was available, willing to take a long lunch from her new, thriving beauty salon. She had several old reliable associates and friends working with her and things were bopping along successfully. Daisy also said she’d come to lunch, since she wouldn’t be opening the pub until four and a one o’clock lunch gave her enough beauty sleep after closing late last night.

I dropped off Nathan at the daycare and gathered my posse. We loaded into the car and headed to town, chattering like a bunch of magpies, talking about our men and laughing.  I admit, I was still hoping LizBeth would show up at Carmella’s Tea House and join us. Three is such an odd number and I was in the mood for balance. When the sudden awareness washed over me and I knew she wasn’t coming, I lucked out … for symmetry if not rekindled friendship. Samantha was walking along Main Street in her civies. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was window shopping. We all climbed out of the car and I called. “Hey! Lady cop! Got time for lunch?”

She grinned, nodded and walked closer. Then I saw it. He eyes fell onto Tracy and her expression altered drastically. Guess she wasn’t keen on lunching with the boss’ wife. I stepped up before she could make an exit.

“Sam, please? Just a nice ladies’ lunch in the Tea Room.” Maybe it was that whiny, doe-eyed pregnant lady expression I was gushing, maybe it was curiosity, but she finally nodded and smiled at the other women.

“Why not.”

No sooner had we sat down and ordered and my hormonal intuition set in. Gazing from woman to woman around the table it was weird, like I could suddenly read minds or something. Daisy was tired and wandering what she was thinking, giving up a few more hours of sleep just to eat tiny tea sandwiches. Tracy was fussing with her currently Marilyn Monroe platinum hair and checking her thick eye make-up, concerned about what to make Ben for dinner.

And Samantha … now that one was even easier to read. I know Samantha, had met her several times over the past few seasons when she worked for our little police department. She’s a sweet woman, but a tough bird too. It was no secret she’s not a big Ben Wade fan, but what she didn’t understand was that Ben comes from a time when women didn’t place themselves directly in danger if they didn’t have to. And … a man who’d let them was considered less of a man. Her issues with Ben would take some time to filter out. But her issues with Tracy were a whopping surprise to me. I could actually read them in the set of her mouth and narrowness of her eyes as she looked at Tracy. Samantha thought Tracy looked like a loose streetwalker. A hussy. A tramp.

I turned to consider. Well, Tracy was a loose woman. She’d come several weekends in a row to the Inn and almost never slept in her own room. Where she slept was subject of a running ski-season pool among the housekeeping staff. It was how she met Ben. The difference was that she fell hopelessly in love with him. Lucky for us all, he fell hopelessly in love with her too. But she actually did look like a streetwalker in those tight black jeans, stiletto black boots and the form-fitting jersey leopard print top that sported a little more cleavage than a sheriff’s wife should be displaying.

Maybe Samantha’s opinion was correct. Maybe I should talk to Tracy, but who the hell am I to say anything that might hurt her feelings? Daisy is a gem, Samantha is sweet and strong … but Tracy was a little insecure and fragile. She’s generous to a fault and makes me laugh every time I see her. Maybe that’s how I could help her. If people knew her good qualities, maybe they’d get past the flamboyant fashion sense?

“So, Tracy,” I said cautiously, making sure Sam was listening and Daisy had finished yawning. “How much have you raised for the cancer society this month?”

Tracy beamed and announced a nice figure of sixteen hundred dollars with a goal of ten thousand by the end of summer. Sam rolled her eyes and Daisy yawned again, this time so wide, her hand couldn’t cover her gaping mouth. I just grinned then guffawed like a lunatic. Lucky for me, no one dialed 911 and the ladies joined in.

Laugh when you really want to cry … and that, my friends, is positive pregnancy rule number three.

JOHN

With Riles out to lunch I headed to the pub office to check inventory and put together a liquor order. The rooms might be empty, but even with the opening of Kennedy’s place downtown, our little pub hopped every night. Locals and guests alike seemed to enjoy the odd atmosphere; a few even swore they saw a ghost or two. Hell, at times I swear even I could feel Bud White sipping scotch at the bar. Granted it was after I’d had a few myself, but whatever kept the patrons coming was fine and dandy with me.

The bar phone rang soon after I started counting. It was Ben with an interesting bit of news.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, tugging the rolling stool near the phone so I could sit.

“Nope. Heard it today from the mayor himself. Jason Gallows just pulled out of the campaign.”

“What the fuck for?”

“He told the committee it was personal reasons. I heard he closed up his law office and left town. Something about his kids.” Ben grunted. “Guess you’re a shoe-in for the town’s next mayor, John.”

“Nope, don’t work like that. Did Mayor Williams mention a town meeting?”

“Yeah, he did. Tonight in fact. Said you gotta be there. What’s all this about?”

I tapped myself a beer and sipped, ran a sleeve across my mouth. “They’ll put off the election, unless the old man is willing to run against me. Can’t have an election without an opponent, Ben.”

“Sounds damn stupid to me. I guess I’ll see ya tonight at the meetin’.”

I wasn’t sure if I was frustrated or relieved. Chances are I’d have lost to Gallows. Didn’t help much that I hadn’t even begun developing my platform to talking to folks. This gave me a little more time to get my act together. My mind slithered over who was left in Stowe to run against me. Aldo Giarasucci would be a perfect mayoral candidate, except for the fact that he was unfortunately and mistakenly connected with Water and Slade for the sheriff campaign embezzlement and the murder of Bob Sawicki. There was Martha Buncher. She’d been a dairy farmer in Stowe for years, but she’d never even mentioned an interest in local politics.

Ah well, with Riley’ pregnancy going so well, it only seemed right that the gods of fuck ups would drop a few bombs in my lap. Like the fire wasn’t enough? Maybe it was time to consider that being mayor just might not be what I’m supposed to do after all.

LACHLAN

“Well, you’re right about the location.”

My lovely wife held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked at the empty storefront window. “And you’re right next to a coffee joint; that could have its advantages.”

We were both standing outside the empty storefront that would shortly become the operations center for Home Again Construction. There was a gentle breeze blowing from the west and I could smell Jessie’s perfume mixed with the scent of coffee and pastries coming from the little diner next door.

“I told ya I’d found a prime spot.” I ushered her towards the door, reaching into my pocket for the front door keys. I could tell that she wasn’t quite ready to admit that my moving the administrative side of the business out of our home was a good idea, but I could feel her warming to the notion; it was in her voice and the way she absently chewed on her bottom lip as she stepped inside.

“Voila, m’lady.” I stood aside and bowed dramatically, waving my arm with a flourish. “Entre vous, si vous plais.” I gave my best bad French accent and patted her on the bum, pretending that I didn’t notice her barely perceptible grin as she walked past.

“The walls could use a little paint.” She was referring to one side of the office that had been freshly dry-walled. 

“That’s a small matter; Mitchell did a little updating on the loo hardware and he and Matt will finish it out this week. They had to bump out the wall to accommodate the new commode.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked up at the ceiling and then back at the surrounding walls. “It’s a nice little office space; you have enough room for filing cabinets, a receptionist’s desk and a small waiting area. I have to admit, this really isn’t so bad.”

I’m not sure I fully understand Jessie’s reluctance behind this whole move, but I think it’s more important that she understands it’s a sound business decision. I was about to give a sigh of relief when she asked the next question.

“So, have you found someone to fill the secretary position?”

Simple enough inquiry, but for some reason I felt the hairs prickle on the back of my neck. “One of my guys has a teenage daughter who wants a part time job; she’ll fill in from two to five-thirty during the week, answering phones, doing light filing, that sort of thing.”

She spun around to face me, one eyebrow raised. I know that look all too well. I crossed my arms and rocked back just a bit on my heels to prepare for the firestorm.

“Absolutely not.”

“She’s a good kid, Jess. Seventeen, straight A student; she’s trying to save up to buy a car.”

“Lachie, would you want our seventeen year old daughter working around a bunch of construction guys?”

“Sweetheart, the blokes I employ are NOT perverts.”

“They don’t have to be. Being male is enough.”

I thought about what she was saying before I shot back an answer; as I kicked my brain into father mode I suddenly understood Jess’s concerns.

Her face lit up with an idea. “Why don’t you hire my mom? I think she’d like the chance to mingle with others for a few hours each day, and she’s pretty good – she used to run my dad’s office back in the day.”

“Since when is your mom looking for a job?” This was all news to me. Enid’s always walking around telling anyone who’ll listen how much she loves being retired so she can spoil her grandbaby.

“Mom’s a social butterfly and I’ll be honest – she’s starting to drive me just a little bit crazy. She goes around rearranging everything after I’ve arranged them just the way I like; the kitchen cabinets, the linen closet; she’s even moved all the furniture around in the living room.”

“I thought you did all that.”

She shook her head. “Nope. That was all mom’s idea.”

 I hated the new living room arrangement but didn’t say anything because I was afraid of hurting Jessie’s feelings. This information put things into a new perspective.

“Do you think your mom could handle working twenty hours a week? No gambling or card playing, and she can’t watch her soap operas when she’s on duty.”

Jessie’s face lit up in a beautiful smile, and I knew right then that I’d scored big hero points. My whole body relaxed. 

“You can read her the riot act, but mom knows there’s a time for business and pleasure.”

She turned then and went off to inspect the new bathroom. When she reappeared a few moments later, she was still smiling.

It’s a damn good thing that I like my mother in law. And the kiss Jessie gave me afterwards made me thankful for all my blessings.

KIM

I know I’m often a difficult bloke to get along with; for a long time I told myself and any bloody fool who’d listen that I liked it this way. I’d worked my way up from nothing, came close to making my own fortune and then I’d met a woman who was even more ruthless than me when it came to getting the things she wanted. I had the cocky arrogance to fall in love with her, and she had a deeply ingrained sense of entitlement. Only when she found her amusement elsewhere, I was left out to dry.

I came to Vermont with a chip on my shoulder and the determination to recreate my life. Luckily, Riley and John saw through the bluster and gave me a vote of confidence and all was well until the day I met my match in Emmie. Only this time, I found myself thinking beyond the realm of quick gratification and a flashy trophy to decorate my arm. Where I once imagined myself living high and mighty in Manhattan with a statuesque lingerie model with a cocaine habit, I now find myself strangely enjoying small town life and wanting to put down roots.

I know I don’t deserve Emmie. She puts up with my attitude and even somehow managed to give me a second chance. Never mind that she kicked my sorry arse out to the curb before hand. I’ve been trying to prove to her ever since that I’ve learned my lesson and that I will never hurt her in that way again. And maybe I’m pushing my luck, but with the lease on her apartment coming up for renewal, I’m trying to work up the courage to ask her to move in with me. I mean, she’s here six nights out of seven anyways, and right now her place is essentially just functioning as an expensive storage facility.

I waited all day to bring up the subject. Over breakfast we were too hurried and we had separate appointments during lunch. I decided to pop the question on the drive home. As she settled into the passenger seat she had a folder full of papers that she was looking through. I waited until we were headed down the hill; traffic was light and I took the first curve a little to fast.

Emmie looked up from her paperwork and grabbed hold of the dashboard. “Hey tiger, let’s make it home in one piece.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and placed her hand over mine on the stick shift.

“Hey, I was kind of thinkin’…my lease is up next month and I’m not there most of the time anyway. What do you think about us moving in together?”

I tried to focus on the road and held back a grin. “Are you sure about this? I mean, you’d be giving up your independence and all …”

Emmie laughed. “We’re not getting married, you big goof. And yes, I’m sure. Besides, you can give me the big walk in closet.”

I knew there was a catch, but I didn’t really mind. Having Emmie and all her stuff at my place beats the alternative any day.

CORY

Not having a good day. My editing of the White Mountains tourism film was rejected with about three hundred fucking suggestions. On the bright side, they didn’t shit can it but I was looking at at least another six weeks of re-splicing and re-editing before I’d see a paycheck from it. Ah well, Hollywood Vermont ain’t. Not complaining mind you. I haven’t had an ulcer attack in a long time. Something in the water here makes everything tolerable. Even close-minded clients.

Daisy was already down in the pub, so before I broke the news that I’d be tied up at the local editing suite I rent for most of the time we were hoping to spend together, I decided to take a stroll around the Inn. I popped into the kitchen and snarfed a few snacks Andy was traying up for a private party that night. Then I chatted a while with a few guests. Talks with visitors always helped me get the best footage for the tourism films. It told me what people were looking for and gave me an insight on how to make things more interesting to the prospective vacationer.

Daisy and I are the only family besides the Biebe’s living at the Inn after the fire. I suppose it would be best for us to get our own place like the others (even Richie had moved out; now living with that sexy head of housekeeping in her apartment on Cutter Street), but we’re comfortable here. I’m ten minutes from the editing studio and Daisy is only two floors from the pub and her job. John and Riles gave us a suite so it even feels like an apartment, although we have yet to cook something in it or do anything more than sleep and shower there. Well, we have sex too, but we did that just fine in the small room we had before. Either way, we’re contented, for the moment.

I walked through the lobby, figuring I’d wasted enough time and I should get down to the pub and face the music. One thing Daisy and I don’t get a lot of is leisure time. When she’s off, I’m usually somewhere filming. When I’m off, she’d bartending her pretty ass off. We were looking forward to working out a nice schedule for a few weeks while I had downtime.

I stopped at the counter to give Marla a rose I stole from the breakfast room buffet when I almost choked. There was a man waiting in line behind a couple to check in. Damn, I wish I hadn’t gone to the movies last weekend. If I hadn’t, I’d pretty much have never noticed him. As it was … I did. That and the bite in my gut that said I’d be eating bland food for a while. Goddamnit! I charged up the steps and pounded on John’s door. He answered, Nathan at his hip.

“That for me? If so, you ain’t my type, Cory. If it’s for my wife, I’ll have to knock your lights out.”

Yeah, he was kidding but John ain’t someone I like joking around with so I just spit it out.

“Cal McAffrey’s at the fucking front desk.”

CAL McAFFREY

I stood in line behind an elderly couple that talked at length with the woman at the desk. I listened in while I looked around, of course. I was expecting a shack, but the 1876 Manor at Mount Mansfield was far from a simple Vermont cottage. The place was opulent, for lack of a less flowery word. Impressive to say the least. Security gate … security cameras everywhere … there was even a security guy walking around the parking lot; a big dude who looked like a Roman centurion in a tight tee shirt and tight jeans with a pistol clipped to his belt. Ah well, I suppose a place hiding a demented secret had reason for security.

I tuned in closer to the conversation. It seemed a fire had closed the place for a few weeks and the couple ahead of me was taking their complimentary week to replace the one lost during the closure. When they finally left, I stepped up just as the phone rang. Marla, according to her brass name tag, apologized profusely and took the call. She spoke little, smiled a lot and nodded then finally gave me her full attention.

“Cal McAffrey. I have a reservation –”

“Oh yes, Mr. McAffrey. Welcome to the Inn. The owner is pleased to have you here and he’d like to meet with you.”

Oh shit. I cleared my throat. “Uh, well not yet. Let me get to my room and clean up a little first,” I grinned.

“Of course. You’re in room sixteen. That’s in the left tower, you just cross the porch and go up the steps to the second floor. Third door on the left, it has a beautiful view of the mountain. Manny here will be happy to take you bags up for you.”

Three big plastic bags from the used clothing store and my man bag hardly constituted luggage. “Um, no thanks, I’m fine.”

“Well, Mr. McCaffrey, this is your key card. Room service is from eight a.m. until eight p.m. If you need anything please feel free to call the desk at any time. Breakfast is included and served in the breakfast room between seven and ten. Dinner is served in the dining room between six and nine. Reservations are strongly suggested. The Inn Pub is downstairs and open until one a.m. As you know, your first and last nights are free. Enjoy your stay at the 1876 Manor at Mount Mansfield.”

The phone rang as she gathered up several brochures of local sites; she took a dinner reservation then finally tucked it all together with my key and handed me the folder with a smile.

Glancing around I could tell that whatever fire occurred at the place didn’t happen in the lobby or parlor. Every inch was sparkling clean and crammed with antiques and fancy doo-dads like you’d expect at a Vermont B&B.

I found the room easily enough. More doilies and silly bric-a-brac. A large high bed that George Washington probably copulated in. A nice private bath where I splashed water on my face and pushed a hand through my hair. Just as I was about to boot up my laptop and do a little research on the Inn, there was a knock at my door. Probably Manny checking to see if I needed anything. High brow B&B’s tended to do that kinda stuff.

I opened it. Gulped.

“Mr. McAffrey, I’m John Biebe. I’m thinking maybe we should talk.”

I stepped aside and glared. Fuck. I caught that movie, Mystery Alaska, just last week. This man looked exactly like that John Biebe. Hell, he looked like me … ten years ago. I walked around him, checking him out from every angle. This was some incredible plastic surgery. “Fuck,” I grunted. “In ten years this is what you’re gonna look like, Mr. Biebe.” I opened my arms and tried to grin. Wasn’t happening. He sat on a chair and pushed a hand through his hair just like I do. This was just creepy.

“Mr. McAffrey, I’m thinking maybe you should come up to the apartment. I have some people for you to meet. Dinner? Tonight? Around eight?”

“Nope.” No way I was letting him take control of my interview. “But I’ve got a list of a few men I’d like to locate here in Vermont.” I passed him a jotted list from my pocket.

He looked it over. Shrugged. “There are a few not on this list, Cal. Lachlan Curry … East Driscoll … Jack Aubrey’s out of town … Max Skinner … Jeff Wigand.”

“I’ve already met Jeff Wigand.”

“Not this one. I can get them all together this evening.”

“I’m thinking maybe you already know this, but I’m investigating for a story. I’d rather talk with them one on one, Mr. Biebe. Where to locate them is all I need. A phone number, address.”

Biebe sighed, rubbed his eyes. “Sure.”

“Now, I have a few questions for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Why all the security?”

The man answered my questions as cryptically as possible. Asked again if I’d permit him to gather the ‘others’ together for a meeting then finally left. Jesus. It was like I’d stumbled onto a Star Trek cult on mescaline. At least I wasn’t expecting any pointy ears. At least none that I was aware of … yet. I quickly got onto the computer. Thankfully I was able to get on line. I needed to do a little more research on the Inn and all the other characters that actor Crowe had created. I just might have stumbled into the biggest story in history. Fuck, you’d expect women to go all gaga over a movie star … but a bunch of men? Men crazy enough to take on the names of the characters? Even change their faces to look like them? Shit! I wish I knew a shrink or two I could call on for clinical input.
 
CHELSEA AUBREY