PULLO

“Something’s wrong with her,” I said.

Skinner shrugged, emptied his tea mug then folded the morning paper. I continued.

“She seems sad. She’s close to tears all the time. She’s lost interest in almost everything. She stays in her room all the time or she’s spending days on end at friends’ houses. I’m worried.”

“You know, I came by here early to talk business, not discuss your daughter. We have several new hybrid vines going in this morning and I wanted to go over the new floor plans for the wine store.”

I paced. Skinner put on the kettle. I paced. Skinner groaned. I paced more.

“All right, Pullo. I do understand your concern, but perhaps it’d be best to discuss this with your lady friends?”

“I tried that. It seems this isn’t a … female … issue. Something has Valerie terribly confused and distracted. I’m really at a loss here.”

Skinner dunked his tea bag and shrugged again. “It’s summer holiday … she’s twelve years old … aren’t all twelve year-old girls emotional and distracted?”

Skinner was in fact my last choice for this conversation, but I’ve tried everything. My lovely daughter seemed to have adjusted so well through everything; the loss of her mother, our move to this farmhouse, even Skinner’s desertion (as she called it) when he moved out. “You know, she’s never forgiven you,” I grunted.

“She will. Have you checked her room?”

“For what?”

Now Skinner looked uncomfortable. “Who knows? Cigarettes, dirty books … drugs.”

“Valerie is not involved with drugs … or pornography and I’d smell cigarettes on her. Don’t be foolish.”

“Am I being foolish? Look, Pullo. I care about Valerie and you’re starting to make me worry too. Is she ill?”

“No, I’ve taken her to the doctor.”

“Has she had an argument with her best little friend?”

“I don’t think so, Carrie Anna is always around here, or Valerie’s off with her.”

Skinner scratched his temple. “Have you asked her what’s wrong?”

I didn’t say a word; my head tilt told it all.

“All right, I had to ask. So she’s not talking. Does she have a diary?” he asked quietly.

“A what?”

“A diary. It’s like pubescent journaling. Young girls especially love to write their deepest secrets in a diary. Does she have one?”

“I don’t know.”

Skinner stood, took his mug and led the way. I certainly didn’t feel right about it, but my concerns overrode any propriety I might be breaking.

“This is a troubled girl’s room?” Skinner said as we stood and gawked. Neat as a pin, not a thing out of place … very unusual. Valerie is a stickler for taking care of me and the house. A veritable neatkin with the kitchen, living room, dining room and laundry. Again I felt guilty. I never asked her to do those things, but at twelve, she was the lady of the house and took it seriously. Unfortunately, her own bedroom lacked the attention the rest of the house always got. It was always sloppy, messy … playfully childish. I wondered of my daughter was growing up, and that idea surprisingly saddened me.

“So, perhaps everything is all right?” I said hopefully.

“Nope, she’s definitely hiding something. Where is she?”

“She spent the night with Carrie Anna. She’ll be home this evening after a matinee and pizza.”

He rubbed his hands together and bobbed his brows. “So, let’s get to it.”

“You know Skinner, you are slimy enough to have worked for Caesar,” I growled.

“Nope. Never. I would rather be Caesar. Check the closet; I’ll look through the drawers.”
And the search began. It didn’t take long; we located the diary under her pillow. It was not a very little-girl-looking journal. No Hello Kitty or pink-clad superheroes decorating the cover. It was just a spiral notebook with a plain red cover and large, handwritten letters. DO NOT OPEN PRIVATE. I hesitated.

“Go on. You need to know what’s got her panties in a twist, Pullo.”

I sat on the bed and ran my hand over the cover. Of course Skinner was right. I had to know how to help her and the answers were inside that notebook. I considered asking him to leave, just to preserve some of Valerie’s privacy.

“On with it, then,” he sat beside me and huffed.

Right there, on the very first page was the answer and it terrified me more than an oncoming enemy … worse than Gaul warriors … more painful than torture.

“What the bloody hell? Does that mean what I think it means?” Skinner tugged the book from my hands and flipped through the pages. “This is worse than I suspected, my friend. And,” he stood, snorted a chuckle and collected his tea cup and walked out. “You’re on your own with this one,” he called from the hallway. Some Caesar.

“Coward!”

I fingered the pages. Page, after page, after page of the same terrifying words – various arrangements.

I love Eddie. Valerie Loves Eddie. Valerie Pullo + Edwin Jackson. Mr. and Mrs. Ed Jackson. Eddie loves Valerie. Eddie and Valerie FOREVER. Eddie and Valerie sitting in a tree, K  I  S  S  I  N  G. I heart Ed. Edwin loves me.

“Oh-oh,” I groaned. It had happened. I’ve finally reached the point of no return. Valerie had always been a challenge, but this situation has taken me into the land of the unknown. My lovely, innocent little girl has fallen head over heels for that young boy Jack Aubrey is planning to adopt. He’s just turned thirteen and Valerie is twelve.

Nothing in all my years as a legionnaire with the thirteenth prepared me for such a trial. I am sooooo not ready for this.

VICKI
 
We arrived in Burlington yesterday afternoon, and the flight wasn’t nearly as awkward as I had feared. I mean, I’m traveling with my former boss to stay all alone in his private home while he visits with family and friends in another town. I almost talked myself out of accepting his offer, but finally decided that I was a grown woman who could handle herself in any situation, and let’s face it – I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder and worrying about what other people are going to say or think.

I shouldn’t have worried. I admit I was a little surprised to see Colin acting the gentleman towards me, but realized that perhaps I’ve been a little hasty in my judgments of his character. Away from the environment of the track he seems quieter, a little awkward and even a bit shy. That last one really threw me; I mean, Colin O’Brien has a reputation as a bit of a tosser where women are concerned, but he didn’t display any of that kind of behavior at all. If anything, he seemed to be a bit protective, like a doddering old uncle. I have a suspicion that my father may have had a word with him before we left, and I’m not sure why but I’m just a little bit disappointed when I think about it. 

When we arrived at the house, he showed me to my room right off; a guest bedroom on the first floor with French windows opening out onto a redwood deck overlooking the backyard. It was cozy, with a double bed and a nice big cushy chair for reading, if I felt so inclined. A quick tour of the rest of the house followed. I couldn’t help but wonder if his ex-wife had been the one responsible for decorating, because there seemed to be hints of femininity that a straight man would likely never consider; floral brocade drapes in the living room over pale green sheers with furniture in coordinating colors of brown, olive and lavender. Tasseled pillows were tossed here and there all throughout the house, in patterns matching the décor of each area.

Upstairs was a massive master bedroom suite, also decorated in the same manner. But when Colin showed me his office I realized that this was the heart of the house, reflecting a definite masculine aura. Here were darker colors of rusts and tans and deep forest green, with oak paneling and built in shelving holding a variety of trophies, framed photographs, CDs and DVDs. The desk looked a bit cluttered, as if someone had just been there a few moments before.

After the tour, Colin ran out to the grocery store while I unpacked. I told him that I was perfectly capable of doing my own shopping, but he waved me off.

“I wouldn’t be much of a host if I just left you to fend for yourself.”

He came back with enough food to last at least a week. He held up a package of steaks and smiled. “It’s been a while since I fired up the barbie. I hope you’ll be hungry enough to try my cooking.”

He seemed more relaxed here, although there’s still a slight edginess, as if he wasn’t used to entertaining someone. There’s another reminder of how I may have misjudged him. To be honest, I’ve never seen him making a spectacle of himself with other women, even when the track groupies would gather around him before and after a race. I suddenly felt ashamed for thinking such things in the past. 

I offered to help make a salad, but he wouldn’t have any of it.

“You’ll be fixin’ your own tucker soon enough.” He popped open a can of beer and took a sip. “You’re actually only the third person I’ve entertained in this house, and I reckon I need the practice.”

I wondered who the other two people were, and if they were male or female, but when he didn’t elaborate, I didn’t press for what was obviously none of my business. So I sat at the counter and sipped my wine as we chatted about the best way to grill a steak.

Dinner turned out to be rather good. I offered to help with the clean up, but again, Colin would have none of it, so I excused myself and went back to my room. It was still early and I wasn’t tired, but I lay back on my bed just to stretch out a bit and the next thing I knew it was morning. I padded out to the kitchen to find Colin drinking a cup of coffee and looking far more handsome and awake than anyone had a right to at seven a.m. How is it that men are always able to do that? A quick shower and a splash of deodorant and cologne and they look like a million bucks. I stood there with my bed head hair and pillow scars across my cheek, blinking my eyes like a lunatic as they tried to focus.

He laughed softly and handed me a cup of coffee. “You look like you could really use this.”

As I slowly regained my senses, Colin explained that he was about to head out and had written out a list of various phone numbers in case I needed to get a hold of him and his cell phone was shut off.

I felt a little flattered, but also a little irritated. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

“I’ve no doubt. But massage my ego and just pretend that you may have an emergency that’ll require my coming to your rescue.”

“Well, okay. I guess I could cut my leg shaving or something like that.”

Another grin. Did he always have such nice dimples, or was I only noticing them just now?

“That’s the spirit.” He finished the last few gulps of coffee from his cup and turned to place it in the dishwasher. “Listen, I’m only about an hour away, so if you really do need me for anything, don’t be afraid to call.”

I again assured him that I’d be fine. A few minutes later, I stood in the driveway, waving as he drove off in his SUV. I should have felt a little more excited because he’d left me with the keys to his Corvette for getting around town, but I just felt tired. I watched as he drove up the street and out of sight, then headed back inside to catch a bit more sleep.  

ENID
 
I haven’t had an occasion to play the chauffer since Jessie first got her driver’s license at sixteen, but every so often I can be persuaded to lend a hand whenever needed. Senior Dominguez, the gentleman from Portugal who has contracted Lachlan’s company to spearhead the renovations on his newly purchased property, arrived in Vermont two days ahead of schedule and apparently there was a mix up with the rental agency and he wasn’t able to get a car. The poor man was stranded at Burlington airport.

Always the conscientious office manager, I took it on myself to play the role of Good Samaritan and informed Senior Dominguez that we’d send someone from the office to retrieve him. My son in law was unavailable due to the arrival of a houseguest, Jeff and Matt were out of town for the gay pride weekend and Egan had a previous engagement. I then volunteered, figuring, oh why not? I’d spoken to the gentleman more times than anyone else in the office, and I kind of felt a sense of responsibility for his well being, not to mention that it was good PR for Lachlan’s company to go the extra mile and display good customer service.

I arrived at the airport just after eleven. Senior Dominguez had described his appearance as “middle aged, wearing a tan suit and a matching fedora.” He was easy to spot, standing beneath the overhang near the passenger loading zone, looking every inch as handsome as his telephone voice had suggested. I pulled up to the curb and quickly got out of the car to introduce myself.

His dark eyes sparkled as he took my hand in his. “Ah, you are the lovely creature who has filled my ears with enchantment every time I call to speak to my contractor.”

I felt myself blushing. Imagine doing that at my age. “Como é você, Senior Dominguez.  Boa vinda a Vermont.”

My accent was horrible, but he smiled as if it were spoken with a honey coating. “I am most fine, Senora Dalton, especially since the gods have seen fit to reward me with the eminent pleasure of your delightful company. Shall we be on our way?”

Did I mention that he looked like a cross between Ricardo Montalban and Marcello Mastroianni with a smidge of Antonio Banderas?

COLIN

I felt a bit guilty for leaving Vickie all alone; I could tell that she wasn’t feeling as pulled together as she was pretending, but maybe it’ll sort itself out with a bit of peace and quiet. I know how it feels when you’re hovering between a rock and a hard place, and you feel the need to work it all out on your own. She knows how to reach me, and I’ll make a point of checking in to make sure that she’s okay, just to be on the safe side.

Pulling up into Lachlan’s driveway, I noticed all the work he had done to his house over the past several months. The window shutters, once black and peeling had been repainted a dark shade of green and the large lilac bushes that bordered the front yard on either side had been trimmed back to something more manageable. The front porch was sportin’ a new railing, and I heard the sound of wind chimes as I walked up the front steps.

Several old wicker chairs had been repainted a bright glossy white with large green plaid cushions, practically begging for someone to sit on ‘em. I knew that this was most likely Jessie’s doing, judging by all the pots of pink and red flowers that decorated the porch, along with a stroller tucked neatly beneath one of the front windows.

I was about to knock on the heavy oak door when it swung open on its own.

“Bloody hell mate, it’s good to see ya.”

Lachlan stood there with his daughter on his hip, looking every inch the proud papa. “Look Manda, it’s Uncle Colin.”

Amanda had grown so much since I’d last seen her back in … was it really as far back as January? She shared a strong resemblance between both parents; her mother’s brown eyes, her father’s cleft chin and dimple, but that wild red hair still threw me and I couldn’t help but think of Hando’s little Ruthie. Lord help her parents if this little Curry was about to have the same temperament.

“Did you bring your bags?” As Lachlan peered over my shoulder and looked towards the driveway, Amanda let out a loud burp.

I let go a laugh. “I see she takes after her father.”   

“Only in some areas.”

Jessie came up behind us, smiling as she took the baby from Lachlan’s arms. “She’s actually a perfect little lady, but her daddy wants to turn her into a tomboy.”

She and Lachlan shared a look and I could tell that they were just teasing one another. I also noticed Jessie’s new baby bump.

Jessie caught my glance. “Three months and counting, thank you very much. Hey, why don’t you guys head on out back so Lachlan can show you his other baby?”

I was curious about checking out the finished renovations to the rest of the house, but reckoned that all that could wait until later. If Jessie was giving us her blessing and sending us both out back to play with a car, I wasn’t going to argue.

Lachlan motioned with a nod of his head and turned to lead the way through the kitchen and out the back door towards his workshop. When I caught sight of the Barracuda, I grinned like a seven year old. It’d been a few years since I’d had the chance to rebuild an engine on my own, and I could feel my fingers just itchin’ to get started.

Lachlan’s grin matched my own. “I told ya she was a sweet one.”

A few moments later we had our heads buried underneath the hood and time ceased to have any meaning. After a while Lachlan glanced up and he nudged me hard in the ribs.

“Brace yourself mate. Look who’s walking up towards the gate.”

It was Riley.

RILEY

Such a pretty morning. A great day at the Inn. Summertime is fairly good for business and the Stowe Chamber of Commerce has been actively promoting the area for summer vacations. We’re at an eighty percent capacity and that makes me happy. At this rate, we’ll be out from under the financial mess that fire caused before next ski season.

Nathan is a delight. Three is the perfect age for little boys. The terrible twos are over, but then again, little Nate never actually went through the terrible twos. He loves his daddy but lately he loves mommy more. I’ll take what I can get, soon enough he’ll forget I’m even around. He’s not too clingy and adjusts well when I need to leave him in daycare for a few hours here and there. My Nathan’s a thinker and already he’s figured out that soon he’ll have a new brother or sister. The baby is due in October.

October. I’m trying so hard not to let myself feel sad. October was when I lost our first baby. I need to look at this as a healing. There will no longer be a reason to cry or feel sad in October. But the truth of the matter is simple. I will always feel sad about that.

John’s been oblivious to all this, I’m not even sure he’s made the connection. Right now he’s giddy over his repaired friendship with Kevin. It makes me laugh. I always figured those two would patch things up. After all, it wasn’t John’s fault he wasn’t born to this world like everyone else. How could Kevin hate him forever over something like that? It was all fear. Now, it’s all fixed.

Today I graduated into total maternity clothing. I was hoping I wouldn’t get huge, but already I can tell I’ll be bigger with this pregnancy than I was while carrying Nathan. I’m reduced to wearing stretch jeans with those elastic panels sewn in the front. John’s tee shirts are out of the question, they just won’t give as far as I need and he’s been staying in shape, damn him. This morning I’m wearing one of those maternity shirts on with a big arrow pointing down and the words: Don’t Ask. It’s bright yellow with purple lettering. Today I won’t be missed. I’m louder than a fire engine before I even open my mouth.

Nathan at daycare and my errand list in my purse, I sat behind the wheel and readied to head into Stowe. The seat and steering wheel needed another slight adjustment. It seems like the whole words is unsuited for my blooming condition. It wasn’t predicted to be a very hot day, so I expected my shoes would be fine. Swollen feet and ankles might come later after a long day on my feet, but they won’t be inflated by heat and humidity.

Driving down the mountain I turned on the radio, wondered where to have lunch and who I could coral to enjoy it with me. Tracy was always game. Maybe Samantha was off duty. Sometimes even Sheriff Ben Wade would take an hour to sit and chat at Kennedy’s pub when I’m in town. The prospects were growing. I hadn’t seen Kelly and Jeff Wigand in a while. Or had they gone down to Santa Bell Island? I remember them talking about a vacation there where Jeff could golf his heart out and Kelly could get a tan. Was that next week or this week? Damn, pregnancy literally eats away memory brain cells.

“Oh golly, would you lookit that everyone!” the radio DJ shouted at me.

“What?” I asked, carefully negotiating the hairpin turns and praying a deer wouldn’t leap out in front of me at any moment.

I love the Stowe local radio station. The morning disc jockey, Bart Witchford, is also our community events committee chairmen. His commentaries are always funny, always relevant and informative, but his music choices leave a lot to be desired. I mean really, how many times does a sane, sober person need to hear In A Gadda Da Vida? The afternoon DJ is one of our paramedics and he likes to play crooning fifties tunes. The AM station is a daytimer so it’s off the air by sundown. Bart was so excited and talking so fast, I almost pulled over to pay attention. Had some major disaster befallen our quaint little town?

“I’m tellin’ you all! That’s NASCAR winning racer Colin O’Brien driving right down Main Street! Wave everyone! This guy’s a hero!”

I did pull over. “Colin’s in town?” Again I questioned the number of remaining memory cells I have. Did he tell me he’d be here and I forgot? No. No he didn’t. Damn him. I raised the radio volume.

“Looks like he’s parking over at the Curry house, folks. Maybe I can convince him to stop by and talk with us while he’s in town. Stay tuned for details.”

“Details … my spreading butt!” I drove to Lachlan’s and parked, blocking the driveway. Who was gonna give me a ticket? I mean, the driveway belongs to my brother-in-law, my other brother-in-law is the sheriff and my husband is almost the mayor, God sakes.

At the end of the driveway near Lach’s workshop were two men. Oh yes, it was Colin alright. I’d recognize that denim-covered nice tight ass anywhere. He and Lachlan were shoulder deep into a Barracuda. “Nice car,” I whispered then remembered I was mad. How dare Colin come home and not tell us he was coming!

He looked up. “You’re looking … bigger, love.” He grinned.

“And you’re in big trouble, buddy.” I smiled wide like I always do around Colin and he let me leap into his arms and grunted.

“What happened to my tiny dancer, Riles?”

I pointed to my shirt. “Don’t ask. Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”

“Uh …”

“You don’t want to see the family?” I was beginning to worry. He looked good, but was he recovering from everything okay? No wife, no more racing … was he all right with it all?

“Of course I wanna see the family. I just … ya know … didn’t think about …”

“Does Hando even know you’re in town?”

“Bloody hell yeah,” he snorted. “He’s gotta know where his partner is, love.”

“I see,” I tapped my foot and crossed my arms over my big belly. “Then you’re both in trouble. And you,” I pointed at Lachlan who dramatically dropped to his knees.

“Forgive me, Riley. I know better. I know all about sheilas in your delicate condition and how they need to know every detail of everyone’s plans,” he teased and I shrugged.

“It’s got nothing to do with my condition. I always wanna know every little detail of everyone’s plans.”

They laughed and I hugged them both then headed into the house. Looked like it would be lunch with Jessie. Ah well, at least we had the same point of view. That ever-growing-middle, brain-cell-dissolving, swollen-ankles and hemorrhoids point of view only women like us knew.

It was time to plan a big dinner so everyone could see Colin while he was around. Hell, he hadn’t even met Cal yet.

EAST

Some days just feel good. This one didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was feelin’ guilty or pleased with myself. After all, I got what I wanted the other night, right? I got Natalie and it was good. Better than good. So why am I feelin’ like I got … nothin’?

Then of course there was last night.

She had long legs and yellow hair. She had a squeaky voice and breasts that made my mouth water. I bought her a drink at Kennedy’s then we left. She took me to a nice house and we fucked. And fucked. And fucked. You’d think I’d be satisfied, right?

Then around midnight she got up and dressed. “Oh, you can stick around, this is a friend’s house and she’s out of town for a few weeks. I water her plants when she’s away. Don’t worry about the sheets, I’ll wash them tomorrow.” She kissed me like a champ. “You were great East. It was fun.”

“Where the bloody hell are ya goin?” I didn’t even remember her name.

“Home, silly. My husband gets off work at two and expects me to be there. Bye, bye, handsome.”

I got my arse out of there like a bat outta hell. What the fuck is it with me and married women? Granted Natalie’s married but the way I see it, we had all that history from the way we all lived before, so it should be okay. I know she said we’d never do it again … but …

We hadn’t talked much but I was sure Jack wasn’t expected home for a few days. I’m here and he’s not. I mean, why the bloody hell not?

I kept myself busy at the stables all morning. I’d started something weeks ago. Kinda strange, I know, but I’d been catching butterflies and pinnin’ them to a board. Under each colorful form I write the thing about the butterfly that reminded me of Natalie. Brilliance. Joyfulness. Beauty. Elegance. Like that. Around one I finished working the horses and tucked the board under my arm. I figured it was time to give it to her; maybe it’d make her smile. Maybe it’d make her want more.

But as I moved across the field I noticed her at her car. I stopped. She looked up then walked to me.

“Goin’ somewhere?” I asked.

“Uh … yes. I am. I’m going to meet Jack in New York. He’s arriving at Kennedy International this evening and I’ve arranged a room at The Plaza for the weekend.”

I felt my throat tighten. “Bloody hell, you’re not plannin’ on tellin’ him, are ya?”

Natalie pushed a wisp of hair from her face and shrugged. “I’m planning to see my husband … who I love and miss very much. Beyond that, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Don’t tell him.” Yeah, I was scared shitless.

“It isn’t in my plan,” she said and grinned. “Now, I’m taking Eddie and Chelsea over to the Biebes. We should be home Sunday night.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and kissed my cheek. “It’s all good, East.”

She loaded the nipper and young Eddie in the car and drive off.

I tossed the butterfly board into the trash bin in my office. Maybe I could track down that yellow-haired lady again. I could use a little distraction.

NATALIE

Telling Jack the truth is most certainly not in my plan, but not telling him what happened is … well … making me feel sick. The long drive down to Manhattan gave me more than enough time to make things even worse.

The smart thing to do was to just plain forget it ever happened. It wasn’t like I could blame East. I was as much a participant as he was. Neither of us actually instigated it and I can’t help but wonder how much of that old lifestyle still infected us all. If I had the nerve, I’d ask the other women from that time (Riley, Monica and Meredith), if they’d done the nasty since things changed. Lots of us have secret suspicions about Riley and Terry. Mere always had a thing for John. Who knew? Really? Who knew? Maybe I wasn’t alone in this sin.

But then again, what did it matter? It’s still my sin. What on earth would make me do that to Jack?

I checked in to the room three hours before Jack’s flight was due. I sat like a statue and tried to imagine the wonderful reunion we’d have on that elegant bed. I sat so long and tried so hard to believe everything was just fine that I nearly missed his flight arrival.

I rushed into the baggage claim like a madwoman, my hair all messed up and I have no clue if I was even wearing any lipstick. If I missed Jack, he’d be heading to Vermont and I’d be racing to catch up on the interstate. The hotel, me … it was all a surprise.

If for one moment I imagined I wouldn’t feel that rush of love and completion when I saw Jack … I was crazy. He stood watching the moving belt for his luggage and my heart skipped a beat. For several moments all I could do was stand there and look at him. His hair was neatly tied back. It glowed golden streaked with an occasional stray gray strand. He was tanned gold, fit and strong, the muscles of his back rippling beneath his black tee shirt. Jack. Jack was home. Home.

I stepped forward and tapped his shoulder. He turned and in the blink of an eye his face bloomed into joyful glee and his voice boomed with laughter. “My little dove! What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise you. I’ve booked a room at The Plaza,” I answered between kisses. “I miss you so much! I love you Jack! I love you!”

“And I you,” he whispered. We gathered his bags and rushed for the privacy of the hotel.

JOHN

“Pub crawl!”

I looked at Kevin and laughed. “Buddy, we got three pubs in town. It’s gonna take ten cycles before we got snookered. Not to mention, we ain’t exactly kids anymore. A hangover at forty-something is a hell of a lot worse than a hangover at thirty-something.”

“Don’t give a shit,” he downed his fifth beer and looked up at Gerry. “Kennedy, save these two stools, we’ll be back. S’go.”

’Course I went.

The last time I got that drunk, Kevin was there consoling me. My wife had a secret and wasn’t telling me. She’d gone off with LizBeth for a little jaunt into New York and neither Kevin nor I had any clue why. She didn’t tell me she thought she was terribly sick. Being a dumb ass man, I thought she was finished with me. She was off seeing oncologists, and I was praying no divorce papers showed up at my doorstep. What a mess. It was a stupid misunderstanding. She thought I didn’t want kids and the specialists discovered the only thing wrong with Riley was that she was fertile and we were about to have a kid.

We lost that baby. Not because of anything but God’s plan. And who was there for me then? The family and … Kevin.

Kevin got the Inn built when I was broken after the avalanche. Kevin stood beside me and my wife when we buried our lost baby. We were there when he and LizBeth tied the knot.

See, here’s how it is. I have no other friends. Don’t get me wrong, I’m friends with everyone and have a whopping big family. But God sakes, the truth of the matter is that I really have no friends. No one I can trust to be there when I hit bottom so hard there’s no way back. No one to argue over Rangers’ penalties during hockey season, no one to watch the Super Bowl with, no one to just enjoy getting fucked up drunk with … except Kevin. Yeah, pitiful. I know. But considering the reality of my life, it isn’t like it’s so easy to make friends outside my … unique … family.

And the uniqueness of my family almost cost me something I wanted real bad, maybe need. I didn’t want to lose Kevin’s trust or respect. Fuck, what else is there for a man base friendship on? He’s a great guy. We see the world the same. But it was time to let him in on the secret. I wasn’t surprised he walked away. Hell, imagine your best buddy announcing he’s from Jupiter or something. The truth of my life is not easy to swallow. So, I waited. And I hoped.

Lucky for me, when push came to shove, Kevin chose to stand at my side. He could have easily put us all under if he’d played Cal differently. Instead of helping the man break the story of the century, he helped the rest of us get the truth through McAffrey’s thick head.

That’s what we’re celebrating tonight. Not anniversaries or birthdays, not success or luck. We were celebrating a solidarity that couldn’t be broken.

But of course, at some point, probably around beer number twenty and shot number ten … each … we forgot what the hell we were celebrating. Without even knowing what we were doing, we just sort of moseyed down the street. It’s was two in the morning. No fucking way either of us could face our wives like that. So, where else would a stupid dunk man go?

SAMANTHA

“Does Egan know what you’re wantin’ to do?”

I looked at my boss and rolled my eyes. “Good Lord, Sheriff, this is a dog napping case, not a homicide.”

Ben Wade raised one brow as his eyes met mine. “Riles ain’t ‘bout to give us Sophie. Guess maybe she don’t trust we can protect the mutt. Where are we gonna get this dog that you’re gonna use as bait?”

I glanced at my watch; my shift was over for the night. Egan and his nice comfortable bed were waiting for me, yet here I was at two a.m., standing outside the station and getting the third degree as if I were a rookie.

“Most pet stores have a return policy; I’ve already picked out the dog in Burlington and all this was in my report.”

I was waiting for the boss to come up with another question about my ability to break this case, but my attention was drawn to a couple of late night party goers stumbling up the street towards the station. Laughter and off key singing ensued and then I realized something; I knew these two guys. I let out a groan and headed over to apprehend them.

“John Biebe and Kevin Boyer, what in the devil have you two been up to this fine evening?”

I heard the boss mutter, “Looks damn obvious, don’t it?”   .

Biebe grabbed onto Kevin for support as he turned to look at me. “Well hello, Officer De La Croix, goddess of the moonlight, spirit of the wind …”

Kevin giggled; a strange thing to hear coming from a man with a countenance well over six feet tall.

“I take it you gentlemen were celebrating something, but if I look at my watch, it’s time that both of you were home safe with your wives.”

“Oh hell no. Even I ain’t that stupid,” John slurred. “Ain’t nothin’ safe about the missus.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at them; two naughty little boys. “Well, I can’t have you both roaming around like a couple of drunken fools. We have laws about public intoxication.”

Kevin slapped his knee and grabbed onto John as he nearly lost his balance. “God damn, John, you’re right. She is something!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or knock their heads together. “Let me go call your wives to come get you.”

John didn’t seem to hear me; either that or he was ignoring me all together. He broke away from Kevin and went over towards the station wall; when he started to unhitch his pants, I realized that nature was about to make a house call.

“Okay you two. I’m not in the mood to baby sit and you’re both drunk and disorderly. Let’s go inside.”

John had already started to pee against the wall and Boyer looked as if he was about to join him. I went over and gripped his arm.  

“You will conduct yourself like a gentleman and use the facilities inside.” I turned to John, who was humming to himself as he finished his business and zipped up his jeans. “And here you are, thinking about running for Mayor. I must say I’m disappointed.”

“As Mayor of Stowe, I propose the installation of public urinals. England has ‘em, so why shouldn’t we?”

I grabbed John’s arm and led both men into the station. “I don’t think you want to be known as the potty Mayor, John. Better sleep on it before you go ordering any signs or settin’ up any commercials.”

John turned to Kevin and both men giggled. “See what I mean, Boyer? Isn’t she a pistol?”

“Don’t tempt me, boys. My weapon is loaded.”

BEN

I shook my head, considered assisting but damn if that little filly didn’t have the situation under control all by her lonesome. I drove home and thought more about that. She was a trained officer; she was strong and could handle just about anything … even a homicide if the case came up. Don’t mean it makes me happy though.

De La Croix ain’t my woman and I’m damn surprised Egan got no issues with the job she does. If she was mine, she’d be in a delicate condition and standing at the stove by now, not discussing, arranging and implementing a sting against a national theft ring. Yeah, she does propose that the ring here in Stowe is a copycat, but who’s to say copycat thieves won’t get rough when faced with bein’ caught?

Decision’s made. I’ll be staking out Samantha’s house at night and keeping someone on her during the day while she tries to pull off this trap.

Then I’m gonna have me a long talk with Egan.

In the meantime, I’m gonna be doin’ my part to get my own little wife in a delicate condition.