CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

Marco stood in the lobby and scanned the names on the list. Ah, there it was - M. Wheeler. He pushed the button next to the name and waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Yes, hello. This is Marco Paolo."

"Mm-hmm?" the woman’s voice sounded more interested in the food she was obviously eating than in her visitor.

"Who is this, please?"

"Trixie."

"Well, I have something for Madeleine. May I come up?"

"Door’s open," Trixie told him.

 

Honey came this close to screaming when she heard Marco’s voice. "Why is he here? How does he even know where I live? Nana," she whisper-hissed. "Great!"

"So who is this guy?" Trixie asked.

"Some big-wig over at the hospital. Nana introduced us. He is the last person I want to see right now."

"So go hide. All he heard was my voice-he doesn’t know you’re here."

"I can’t! Can I?" Honey sounded hopeful.

"Sure! Go hide in your bedroom. You’ll even be able to hear everything he says."

Honey took off like a bat out of Sto’Vo’Kor. Trixie prepared for her role.

"Hi there!" She answered Marco’s knock sounding breathless. "A second sooner and you’d have had quite a show! I was just exercising - I exercise topless, you see - and I had a heck of a time finding my shirt after you buzzed."

Marco looked stunned. "Is…is Madeleine here?" he finally managed to ask.

"No! She hates it when I do this. She thinks it’s perverse, but I keep telling her it’s freeing. She actually tried it once," Trixie confided, leaning close, "but it didn’t agree with her. So, do you want to come in, or what?"

"No. If Madeleine’s not here, I won’t bother you. Sorry to have interrupted."

"No problem. I was ready for a breather anyway! Bye-bye!"

No sooner had the door shut than Honey burst forth from her bedroom, clutching her sides and laughing hysterically. "He’s going to think you’re my girlfriend!"

Trixie shouted with laughter at Honey’s take on the sitch. "I was just trying to come off as stupid, not as a lesbian."

"Oh, well," Honey said after another laugh. She wiped at her eyes. "Maybe it will keep him from coming over again."

 

The next day, Saturday, Honey sat alone in the apartment, reading. When the buzzer sounded she answered it automatically, thinking too late that it might be Marco. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the voice on the other end.

"Oh, hi Dan! Come on up."

"I know Trix isn’t here," he said apologetically as he joined her in the apartment. "She told me to meet her here at four, after her appointment, and I didn’t want to have to go all the way back to my apartment and then turn right around again."

"Gosh, don’t even worry about it. I totally understand. Make yourself at home. I was just about to make myself a sandwich. Can I get you something?"

"No, I’m good," he responded, following her into the kitchen. "Actually, though, would you mind if I used your table to clean my gun? I’m afraid I’ll forget if I put it off."

"Please," she answered, pulling out a chair for him. He sat and proceeded to dismantle his gun, laying out all the pieces with a precision indicative of years of practice.

"Oh, I’ve got a funny story to tell you, Honey. Okay, there’s these two women - prostitutes, actually - and they’re constantly coming into the station, nosing around, getting coffee, trying to hit people up for money. They even ask for drug money, they’re that far gone. I know, it’s pretty sad. By the way, their names are Simone and Bayone." Dan began to carefully wipe the various components of his gun. Suddenly, he looked up. "I’m not insulting you, am I?"

Honey looked confused. "You mean like in The Godfather? Because of your gun or something?"

"No, the prostitutes. I mean, if you’re offended by that kind of stuff…"

"Well, no. It’s not the kind of thing I can repeat in class or anything, but I enjoy your cop stories. They’re interesting."

"Alright, if you’re sure."

She nodded. "Please, go on. Their names are Simone and Bayone," she prompted.

"Right. So, anyway, everyone down at the station knows about those two. But I

was at work today, and this other detective comes in, looking all upset. Lasseter is his name. He’s all shaken up because he got robbed last night. All of his movies and CDs, and even his TV, I think."

"Oh, how terrible! Did they catch the guy?"

"Well, apparently, it wasn’t a guy. Turns out, a couple of days ago, Lasseter went home with Bayone. She had been at the station alone that day, doing her usual thing, and for some reason Lasseter just decided, ‘I’m going to take her home and let her stay there.’"

"And she stole all his stuff?!"

"She’s a criminal! That’s what criminals do! See, your response is normal. But Lasseter has been a cop for 15 years. He should have known better than to take home a prostitute."

"I guess." Honey was wide-eyed. "Is he going to get in trouble?"

"No. He didn’t do anything illegal, just stupid. But now he’s wondering why nobody has any sympathy for him, and why no one can find Bayone! The guy’s a total moron." He began snapping the gun back together. "I’ll tell you, Honey, I’m about done with that place."

"I thought you loved being a detective," she protested.

"I like what I do, but this city is crazy. It’s not hard to get your fill of drug addicts, murderers, thieves, and prostitutes."

"You know, I’ve always thought you should join the FBI," Honey told him as she finished the last bite of her sandwich.

Dan shook his head. "You’ve been watching too much X-Files. The FBI is no better than the regular police as far as crimes go."

"Maybe not," she agreed, "but it would be a change of pace."

Dan said nothing, but he still looked doubtful.

The buzzer rang.

"Anyway," Honey finished as she walked over to the door, "it’s something to think about. There’s no sense in doing a job you don’t like. Hello?"

"Madeleine! Glad I caught you. This is Marco Paolo."

Honey groaned silently. "Hello, Mr. Paolo. Come on up."

Dan looked at her quizzically. She filled him in on the details, including the sordid part Trixie had played yesterday.

"That’s our Trix," he said, shaking his head.

"You called me Mr. Paolo again," Marco said playfully when she opened the door. "I told you, call me Marco."

"Who is it?" Dan called loudly from his seat in the kitchen.

Marco looked alarmed.

"Um, it’s the man who called ahead," Honey answered Dan’s bellow. "Mr. Paolo."

"Bring him in," Dan ordered.

Honey had to stifle a laugh when she saw the picture Dan presented. His gun was now fully reassembled, but her table top was littered with his cleaning equipment. He sat in his chair, polishing the gun barrel like - well, like a man who sits in a chair polishing a gun barrel. "How’s it going?" he asked Marco.

Marco merely nodded, mesmerized by the gun. Dan caught the look and waved the weapon in the air.

"It’s okay, man - I have a license. I’m fully trained in the art of gunmanship." He reached back with his gun and scratched his neck. "So, what brings you to this humble abode?"

"I have something for Madeleine." He produced a parcel from his coat pocket and handed it to Honey. "From your grandmother."

Honey took it and inspected it. "Oh, yes," she said finally. "I remember now, I did ask Grandmother to send me this. Thank you so much for bringing it to me."

"It was nothing," he gushed. "It turns out your apartment is on my way home."

‘Great,’ Honey thought. "Well, can I offer you anything?"

Marco very obviously considered saying yes until he saw Dan staring menacingly at him. "Maybe some other time," he told Honey. "I really have to be going."

Honey tried to look sorrowful. "Well, alright, then," she said, walking him to the door. Trixie entered just as Honey and Marco had reached the door.

"Now, now, Mr. Paolo, you didn’t come back here for another show, did you?" Trixie waggled her finger at the man and gave him her ditziest giggle. "I’ve already done my exercising for the day."

Marco made a quick exit. From the hallway he could hear Dan yell,

"What are you doing telling that man about your exercise routine?!
We do not treat guests that way! Now get in here and start dancing!"

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

"Nana, that was delicious," Jim said, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin.

Mrs. Wheeler smiled regally and nodded. "Thank you, James. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I do believe Isabel is the best cook I’ve ever had."

Honey made a noise indicating agreement, taking a last sip of wine. She hated drinking wine, but Nana insisted it was the only civilized accompaniment to dinner. She turned to Mary. "Did you have any luck today at the banks?"

Jim and Nana focused their attention on the two girls, Jim with a smile and Nana with a slight frown.

"It’s hard to say," Mary replied. "Wouldn’t you say, Jim," she said, turning to him, "that they seemed to have a lot more questions this time?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, they did. And even though we had all the proper paperwork and permits, they still seemed displeased. You’d be surprised, Honey. It’s almost like they don’t want the school to succeed."

Honey was sorry for her brother. He’d dreamed ever since he was a child of opening a school for orphaned boys. And now, when he’d finally completed the training he’d felt necessary, the bureaucracy involved was holding him back. And Mary had taken the project to heart as soon as she’d heard about it, even staying on after she and Mart had gone their separate ways. These holdups were obviously getting to both of them.

"Oh, I can’t believe that, Jim," Honey said gently. "Your school is such a perfect idea, of course they want it to succeed. It’s probably just standard to have so many formalities."

"James has a point, Madeleine," Nana told her. "He understands that the bank is looking at this as an investment. They need proof that it is a good one."

Mary nodded. "Exactly. What they want is for Jim to use all of his savings to get the school started, and then when it’s pulling in a profit, they’ll step in and offer us a loan." She looked at Honey over the rim of her glass as she took a sip of wine, apparently trying to ascertain whether Honey understood.

Troubled by Mary’s words, Honey sought Jim’s eyes. He was nodding slowly, a look on his face that said he’d come to the same sad conclusion. "But what about the idea of starting out as just a school, and adding the orphanage later?" she asked her brother. "You mentioned that maybe you could do that. It would at least be a start."

Mary shook her head. "Unfortunately, that wouldn’t cut down on the red tape at all. The same restrictions would apply."

"She’s right, Madeleine," Nana declared, cutting short the discussion. "There’s no use wishing for things that won’t happen. Now, let’s move into the solarium for coffee."

Jim and Mary rose immediately. Honey, who until now had had every intention of staying until Nana had dismissed them all, suddenly knew she couldn’t. With hardly a second thought, she said abruptly, "I’m very sorry, Nana, but I have to go."

Nana whirled around and demanded an explanation. Jim and Mary stared politely.

Honey pushed in her chair and apologized again. "I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I made plans with Trixie to see a movie tonight." She smiled. "Sort of a girls’ night out."

Nana was displeased, to say the least. She tried to protest, but for the first time in her life Honey paid no heed. She moved kindly but resolutely toward the door. She retrieved her coat from the front closet, refusing the butler’s offer to put it on her.

"I had a lovely evening, Nana," she said. "Your dinners are always so wonderful." Then she turned to Jim and smiled brightly. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course, sis." He came forward to kiss her on the cheek. "Mary and I will be there at 1: 00."

Another smile was sent Mary’s way, but she couldn’t quite manage any words. After a final general farewell, Honey slipped gratefully out the door.

 

Jim and Mary arrived right on time the next day. Trixie and Honey had prepared a light lunch in anticipation of the visit, and they were expecting Dan any minute. Trixie had wanted Brian to come, too, but he had to work.

"Mary! Jim! How nice to see you!" Honey gave Jim a kiss on the cheek. Trixie hugged him.

"Can I take your coats?" Trixie offered, unsure what else to do and grateful to be able to play the part of the hostess. Mary and Jim disposed of their coverings (but not all of them, thank goodness!) and took seats on the couch.

"Well, lunch is ready, so as soon as Dan gets here, we can eat. I hope sandwiches and salad are alright with everyone?"

Mary nodded politely.

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" Trixie asked. "Water, iced tea, pop, lemonade…" her voice trailed off.

"I’d love a glass of white wine," Mary responded gratefully.

"Oh, I’m sorry-we don’t have any wine. I’ll just go pick some up," she volunteered.

"Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble. I’ll just have something else. Do you have any club soda?"

Honey grabbed her coat off its hook and prepared to put it on. "I’m afraid you’ll think we’re terrible hosts, but no. Why don’t I just run down to the shop around the corner and pick up some wine? It won’t take me any more than five minutes."

"Well, let me come, too." Mary stood up and went for her own coat. "It’s the least I can do," she explained.

"Alright, then," Honey said on their way out. "We’ll be back soon."

"Will you wait for the wine, too, Jim?" Trixie asked once the others had left.

"Uh, no…I’ll take a bottle of water, if it’s not too much trouble."

Trixie grabbed his water and her own iced tea and joined him on the couch.

Jim thanked her as she handed him his drink. "So, what have you been up to, Trix?" He smiled broadly at her, and she returned it.

"Well, I’m working on a little project right now, one that’s in its final stages."

"Are you getting a lot of work?" he queried as he took a sip. "I mean, you look great - very happy. Is that because of work?"

Trixie weighed her answer. "Partly," she finally told him. "I really like where I am right now, you know? Professionally as well as personally." Her choice of words and her tone reflected the slight discomfort she felt in his presence. She just couldn’t seem to talk like herself.

Jim nodded knowledgeably. "Yes, I’ve seen you and Dan together. You two seem to have been made for each other."

"Thank you for saying so, Jim. That’s certainly how I feel about him."

"What about him? How does he feel about you?"

"Well," Trixie answered smilingly, "let’s just say I think we’re both on the same page." ‘On the same page’? Get over yourself!

Jim laughed. "I’m so happy for you, Trix. I know that our…past might make that hard to believe, but I really feel toward you like I do toward Honey, like you’re my little sister or something. I love you, and I love to see you happy. Dan must be quite a guy to make you so happy."

Trixie was looking exceptionally happy to be in Jim’s company when Dan used his own key to let himself into the girls’ apartment. He immediately spotted them on the couch together, smiling and talking animatedly.

"Well, hello there, stranger!" Jim stood and held a hand out to Dan.

"How are you, Jim?" Dan greeted him, shaking the proffered hand. "It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?"

Trixie remained seated, watching the exchange. After the two gents had finished their introductory chatting, Dan turned to her and smiled a greeting.

"So, what’s the good word?"

Trixie shook her head, laughing and offering her hand. "Nothing special. I’m just glad to see you, is all."

Dan gave her a kiss, but, mindful of Jim, made it a quick one. "So where is Honey?"

"She and Mary went to get some wine. They’ll be back any minute, then we can eat."

"Sounds good." Dan hung up his coat. "So Mary is here, too?"

"Yes," Jim answered. "We’ve been in town trying to arrange more financing for the school. Mary’s a real trooper, sticking with me through all these legal hassles. I’m sure that when she agreed to sign on as a teacher she had no idea what she was getting herself in for."

Dan nodded sympathetically. "I’m sure she’s looking forward to the rewards rather than thinking about the inconvenience." He smiled to himself. He loved using pompous language when talking to Jim - it was fun seeing Jim’s pleasantly surprised reaction to his intelligent conversation.

"She must be," Jim agreed. "And as much as she loves kids, I’m sure she is. She has a real passion for helping orphaned and abandoned kids."

"My ears are burning," her voice called out as she and Honey came through the door. "Hello, Dan. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!"

Honey went into the kitchen with her purchase, and Trixie joined her to help find their wineglasses. If they made faces about Mary’s beverage preference, she never knew it.

 

The party split up at about three-thirty, when Jim and Mary announced that they had to be getting back to Sleepyside. After seeing them off, Honey and Trixie began to clean up the remnants of lunch.

"Why don’t we leave that and go out for some ice cream or something?" Dan asked them. "Look how bright it is out. This is probably one of the last nice days of the year. December’s not too far off, you know."

"You guys go ahead," Honey offered. "I’ve got some school work to do, but you should go enjoy the sunshine."

Trixie continued to load the dishwasher. "No, we don’t mind staying. You shouldn’t have to clean up all by yourself."

"You make it sound like we just had a huge party," Honey protested. "It’s basically a few cups and plates. I wish you two would go out. It would make me feel bad if you stayed home because of me. Really." Honey took the glasses from Trixie’s hands and gave her a little shove and a meaningful look. "Look how much Dan wants to go."

Trixie did look, and Dan smiled and nodded eagerly at her. Still a little reluctant, she agreed to go. "Can we bring you back anything?"

"Nope. And don’t hurry, either. I think I might try your famous exercise routine after I’m done here."

With a laugh, the lovebirds set off.

"So, Jim looks good," Dan began after they had exited the building.

Trixie nodded. "I guess. But he doesn’t seem too happy."

"Must be worried about the school," Dan suggested.

"Probably. But he and Mary seem to be handling it very well. I guess Jim’s never been a very…effusive person, though, has he?" She added in a hand squeeze and smile for effect. She desperately wanted to get off the subject of Jim, who, she had to admit, was not the most exciting subject around.

"Not effusive, huh?" Dan said with a half-smile. "Is that another word for ‘he just won’t talk about his feelings, and it’s making me crazy!’?" The last part of his question was asked in a whiny, high-pitched lisp.

Trixie laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of another word for ‘boring,’" she admitted. "Jim’s so concerned with propriety that he never has any fun. I don’t know when is the last time I heard him have a real laugh."

Dan’s face remained impassive and he didn’t reply right away. Instead he steered her into an ice cream parlor. He studied the wall menu and, as they took their place in line he asked, "You know who would be good for him?" He looked down at her as if he was surprised by his sudden thought.

"Huh-uh." Trixie played it casual, reading through the ice cream selections on the menu before meeting his eyes. "Who?"

"Mary."

"Mary! Mary Miller? Mart’s Mary?"

Dan nodded.

"But that would be so - so tacky!"

The line moved forward and they stepped with it. "I didn’t say they were together, Trix. I said they’d be perfect for each other."

Trixie’s thoughts were centered on the match. "Would Mart be invited to the wedding?" she wondered. "Would any of the Beldens?" They moved forward again.

"I’ll have a medium chocolate shake," Dan told the counterperson. "And she’ll have - ’’

"Oh! Um, I’ll have a, um, I’ll have the same. Dan," she returned to the previous subject, "You’re actually right. They would be perfect for each other."

"Oh, yeah?" He put the conversation on pause long enough to thank the server for the milkshakes and pay the bill. As they headed back outside, he asked, "What makes you say that?"

"I don’t know. He’s just so - and she’s just so - well, they’re both just so, you know?" she sucked on her straw and waited.

"Very well put, my dear," he told her. "You should have been a writer."

"They’re both so anal, I guess. That’s what I mean. Imagine if Mart had married her."

"Or if you had married Jim." Dan wiggled his eyebrows as he sipped.

Trixie shuddered. "Perish the thought," she told him in all seriousness. "He would have never let me do anything. I’d be wearing a burqa and listening to lectures all day."

"Well, Trix," Dan sounded exasperated, "he was always like that. But you dated him for, what, four years?"

"Two," she corrected him quickly. "And we did not date. I think we had exactly one official date." She knew she was downplaying it, but she was technically correct.

"Oh, really?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "What about that identity bracelet you came back from Iowa with? Right after I met you guys. You do realize, don’t you, that he gave you that in order to stake his claim?"

Trixie shuddered again, involuntarily, then sighed. "I admit, I considered him my boyfriend. But in my teenage brain, that amounted to hanging out at dances together. Besides!" she shouted, "you went out with Ruthie!"

"Who?" Dan looked stumped.

"Ruthie! Ruthie What’s-her-name. You took her to that dance. I will never forget the way you told Jim he’d have to take me himself, since you already had plans."

Dan was nodding his head now, remembering. "There was no way I was gonna sit there in front of everyone and say, ‘yeah, how ‘bout it, Trix? Me or Jim?’" He looked knowingly at her. "You would have said Jim."

"Well," she admitted, "you’re probably right. But I’m grateful you didn’t put me in the position of having to choose." Then she smiled. "Anyway, you and I actually went to the most important dance together. Who would’ve guessed that we’d end up like this?"

He laughed at the memory of his senior prom. He’d asked her under the guise of friendship, when he’d found out that Jim was going to be out of town visiting colleges. He knew Trixie wanted to go, seeing as how Honey and Brian and Mart and Di were all going to be there. She had accepted eagerly and he had played it off as no big deal.

"You know," he told her as he made a quick detour toward a trash can and tossed in their cups, "I was so excited about that night, I could’ve sworn everyone knew I was hot for you. I’m sure Mart knew."

Trixie blushed wildly and protested his outrageous statement. "You were not! You just didn’t have anyone else to go with, and you know it."

Dan shook his head back and forth vigorously. "No way. Aside from the rather insulting assumption that I couldn’t have found another date," he said with a brief scowl, "I was way gone for you. Ah, unrequited love," he sighed, "what would high school have been like without it?"

"Probably a lot more fun!" She laughed at him. "Why did we waste time lusting after each other in secret?"

Dan stopped walking, and looked disbelievingly at her. "You liked me in high school?"

Trixie nodded. "I thought you were the hottest thing going. You were the hottest thing going!"

"Well, why didn’t you say anything?"

"Are you kidding? I thought you thought I was some dumpy, backwater retard. You called me ‘Freckles’," she reminded him with a smile. "But, come on, Dan, anyone who had access to a written record of our meeting would be able to see the difference in the way I felt about you, compared to the way I felt about Jim."

"Wow. Are you serious?" He seemed so incredulous. "How could you not know I was interested?"

"How could you not?" she countered.

They began to smile at each other, and his fingers were moving suggestively within the confines of their interlocked hands. She embarrassed herself by licking her lips. However, when he accepted the invitation, she did not complain.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

Dan paced back and forth. He had a decision to make, and he had very little time to do so. Should he make the drop or shouldn’t he? On the one hand, if he did, then that would be it. He wouldn’t have to give any more thought to the decision because, for better or for worse, it would be irrevocably resolved. Plus, it would give him plenty of time to scoot before the thing was opened, thus removing all need to answer or ask any questions. On the other hand, he could just forget about the whole thing and walk away, and that would resolve the situation, too.

Dan heard footsteps from the floor above him and knew he was almost out of time. "Come on," he hissed to himself. "Make up your mind."

He pulled something out of his coat pocket and held it in his hand, looking at it. It felt way too light to be causing him all this consternation. Actually, it felt altogether too light. He quickly lifted the lid of the box he held and glanced inside, checking the contents. Still there. Good.

"I can’t do it," he told himself. Then, halfway to shoving the box back into his pocket, he suddenly strode over to the nearby Christmas tree and placed the parcel underneath it. A second later, Trixie and her mother entered the room.

"Ready to go?" Trixie asked him as she buttoned up her coat. "Moms agrees that we should take two cars so that you can leave straight from the Lynches. But I still wish you didn’t have to work on Christmas Eve." It had been a sad day for both of them when Dan had had to put the motorcycle in winter storage and revert to his old Ford POS. They’d be driving that tonight.

Dan looked like a man in severe distress. He attempted a smile and ended up grimacing. Mrs. Belden stared at him, worried.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Are you sure you want to go with us?"

Trixie, who hadn’t noticed his expression, looked up in surprise. "Not go with us? Dan, are you sick?" She reached a hand out to him and pulled him closer. She and Mrs. Belden clustered around and peered closely at him.

Dan got a hold of himself and laughed. "I’m fine," he assured them, and he was pleased to realize that he was. When they were finally convinced, Mrs. Belden called to Bobby and the group set out.

They arrived at the Lynches’ and were descended upon almost before they were out of their cars. Mr. and Mrs. Lynch rushed out to greet Mrs. Belden, excited about something. Terry and Larry headed straight for Bobby, talking at the same time. Trixie exchanged a puzzled glance with Dan before climbing out.

She was turning away after closing her door, trying to catch a few of the words spewing rapidly from Lynch mouths, when she saw Mart and Di. They stood on the front porch, happily surveying the scene. Trixie waited only long enough for Dan to catch up to her, then hurried up the sidewalk.

"I didn’t know you guys were coming!" she screamed, throwing her arms around both of them. "How long have you been here?" She stood back and grinned at them, her eyes going from one to the other.

"We got here this afternoon," Mart told her. "Hey, Dan," he greeted him with a handshake, "how’s it going?"

Trixie and Dan, both being detectives and all, noticed something was up. Almost as one, they narrowed their eyes and studied the couple before them. They didn’t have time for more, because the group from the driveway was, uh, flocking their way. Mart, his arm around Di’s shoulders, turned and led his people into the house, a very tiny smile on his face.

"So," Trixie said casually as she doffed her coat, "how long have you two been planning this little surprise?" She noticed that Mrs. Lynch, as she gathered everyone’s outerwear, looked like a woman who had proudly been in on a secret.

Di, wearing a grin so big it looked painful, said, "We made our plane reservations last month, and swore Mom to secrecy."

Mr. Lynch guffawed. "They sure did! I didn’t even know about it until Carolyn brought them home today!" Everyone laughed with him, he seemed so tickled by the joke.

The doorbell rang. "That must be Honey and Jim," Mrs. Belden surmised, taking a seat next to Bobby on the couch. "They said they’d be here about six."

The guest, however, proved to be Brian. Mart seemed unsurprised, but Trixie and Mrs. Belden reacted with delight.

"Brian!" Trixie exclaimed. She had been on her way back to the couch with drinks for herself and Dan, and stopped short at the sight of her older brother. "I thought you were working all night!"

Handing his coat over to Mr. Lynch, Brian answered noncommitally, "Slow night. Nobody had a problem with me leaving." He tossed a glance Mart’s way, though, which said there was a little more to it.

Honey and Jim arrived just after Brian did, and Honey responded much the same way to Brian’s presence as Trixie had. Trixie was relieved to see that Mary had not tagged along, considering who the other surprise guests were. When Honey noticed Mart and Di sitting in the living room, she didn’t know whether to scream or hug first, so she combined the two in a rather comical display.

"Well," Mr. Lynch boomed, "does everyone have a drink? I think it’s time for a pre-dinner toast." He waited while everyone found something to raise. "To good friends and happy holidays."

"Hear, hear," came the standard response.

"And to our daughter and son-in-law, and our new extended family," Mrs. Lynch added.

Another round of agreement answered her.

Di gestured with her green Kool-Aid. "And to your new grandchild!" she announced, placing one hand on her stomach. She and Mart clinked their glasses together as all bleep broke loose.

 

 

After the hubbub the night before (but, fortunately, no Hubbells), Christmas morning at Crabapple Farm was quiet by comparison. All the usual players were there, with the addition of Di, who, with Mart, had spent the night at the Lynches’ but had hurried over to the farm as soon the Lynches had gone through their pile.

After all the presents were opened, Mrs. Belden asked Mart to open up the attic and she, Trixie, and Di went through boxes of Belden baby clothes. Di cooed over everything she saw.

"Sometimes I think, I want it to be a girl so I can dress her up in adorable little dresses. But look at this!" She held up a miniature three-piece suit that had belonged to Mart.

Mrs. Belden laughed fondly at the memories the suit evoked. "Mart loved to wear that because it made him look like his father. Oh, did you see this, Di?"

"Mart’s baby book!" Di took the scrapbook eagerly. "‘Martin Peter Belden,’" she read aloud. Sighing, she opened the book, examining tiny footprints and locks of blond baby hair. "Oh, I’ll have to get one of these books."

"Have you thought of names?" Trixie inquired as she went through her own baby book.

"Well, I have, but Mart and I haven’t really talked about it. But ever since I was a little girl I wanted to have a girl named Guinevere and a boy named Carter."

"How lovely," Mrs. Belden responded diplomatically.

Trixie smiled suddenly. At the end of her baby book was the picture she’d stuck in there years ago: a picture of her and Dan, with the others, at his prom. "Moms, do you mind if I take this downstairs?" Trixie held up her book and gestured toward the attic door. "I’d like to show it to Dan."

Her mother gave her permission and she went on her way. After tossing the book on the living room couch she wandered over to the Christmas tree. The only two presents left underneath it were hers to Dan and his to her. She was expecting him back from New York late in the afternoon and she wanted to wait until then to exchange gifts. Still, she was dying to know what was in her tiny box.

She greeted Dan at the door with a kiss.

"So," he asked her, "did you like my present?"

"I haven’t opened it yet!" she said, shocked. "I assumed you wanted me to wait until you were here. That’s why I didn’t give you yours last night."

Dan cursed under his breath. The whole reason he had chosen to do things this way was because he hadn’t wanted to be there when the deed was done. Cowardly? Maybe. But then, he’d never pretended to be otherwise. "Well, there’s no rush, right? When is everyone going over to the Wheelers’?"

"Pretty soon, but I think they can wait on us. Don’t you want to open your present?"

Dan sensed that the situation was going downhill. "Sure," he replied, just this side of testily. "Let’s get it done."

"That’s okay," she said cheerfully, or what tried to be cheerfully. "It’s no big deal. We’ll just do it later." She moved toward the couch and picked something up. "Here, I thought you might like to see that," she told him, holding out some kind of book. She still didn’t look at him, instead pretending to straighten the skirt around the tree.

"Trix," he began. "I want to open my present." When she continued to fiddle with the tree skirt, he squatted beside her and reached out for her gift to him. "Please?"

Trixie stopped moving and, after a second, wiped at her eyes. Dan winced. He thought she was about to respond, when Mrs. Belden stuck her head in from the kitchen.

"We’re just about ready," she announced cheerfully. "I just got done baking the brownies, and I’m taking them out to the car now."

Dan looked up at her and nodded. "Trixie and I will meet you guys there," he told her.

"Sounds good. Brian already left with Bobby, so I’ll just ride with Mart and Di." She retreated back as quickly as she had come, and a minute later he could hear all three of them departing through the side door. He reached for Trixie’s hand, and she finally looked at him.

"I’ll go first, okay?" he asked.

Trixie settled back and smiled at him, but it was just a shadow of what she’d given him at first. Dan, determined to cheer her up, sat down on the floor beside her and tore eagerly at the wrapping paper. She laughed a little.

When he opened the package and saw what was inside, he grinned. "Season tickets to the Knicks! How did you afford these?"

"I didn’t have to," she replied. "I stole them from Brian."

The two shared a hearty laugh. He leaned over and gave her a kiss and a thank you. Then he took a deep breath and set his jaw. "Your turn," he told her, picking up her gift and presenting it to her. Then, for good measure, he kissed her one more time, not quite as briefly.

He watched somewhat steadily as she slowly removed the bow and started to lift the lid. Then, suddenly, his nervousness overwhelmed him again and he felt like he couldn’t take anymore. He almost stood up, but in the end he settled for moving closer to her.

 

They arrived at the Wheelers’ house almost an hour late, but once everyone saw the engagement ring on Trixie’s finger, all recriminations were nipped in the bud. Di, Honey, and Mrs. Belden all hugged her, of course. But to Trixie’s amazement, she found herself being wholeheartedly embraced by Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, as well. They seemed to be thrilled for her and Dan.

"We’ve always thought of you as another daughter, Trixie," Mrs. Wheeler said in her shy voice. "And I know Honey and Jim think of you as a sister."

"Thank you," Trixie told her sincerely. "That means so much to me. I feel the same." Mrs. Wheeler hugged her once more, then did the same to Dan.

"Dan," Mr. Lynch bellowed, "I heartily approve. You’re a very lucky man."

Trixie blushed as everyone laughed at Dan’s emphatic nod. Then, remembering why they were all there in the first place, she apologized, "I’m sorry we’re so late. Is dinner ruined?"

"Of course not," Honey assured her. "We were just having hors d’ouveres."

As if on cue, the maid entered to announce that dinner was ready. The group separated into smaller groups and couples as they headed for the dining room. Honey found herself walking alongside Brian.

"Trixie’s ring is beautiful," she commented.

Brian agreed. "She seems happy with it. Of course, I’m sure she’d have loved it even if it weren’t beautiful, don’t you think?" He half-smiled at her.

Honey smiled back, and impulsively slipped her arm through his. "I think," she told him, "you are an excellent big brother." At his questioning look, she confessed, "I know you already had a little talk with Dan, and that you gave him your blessing. I think that’s sweet."

Brian tried to hide his embarrassment by teasing her. "And how might you have found out about that little talk?" They had arrived at the table, and he stopped to hold her chair for her. After she’d sat, he leaned in close to her ear and added, "Doing a little eavesdropping, were you?"

Honey stared forward as Brian took the seat next to her. A little smile played around the corners of her mouth, but she didn’t look at him. The truth was, they both knew perfectly well how she knew about ‘the talk.’ She had come across him and Dan at the hospital, where Dan had stopped by on his break, to show Brian the ring and, in an indirect way, ask for permission to propose to Trixie. Dan hadn’t noticed her, but Brian had. They hadn’t discussed the incident, but she’d been pretty sure of what she’d witnessed. Apparently he knew she’d figured it out. It would not do to let Trixie know, however.

After dinner, the "young people," as Mrs. Wheeler called her daughter and her friends, adjourned to the rec room to play billiards and whatnot. Actually, the pool table was monopolized by Bobby, Terry, Larry, and Jen Lynch, which cut down on everyone else’s recreational choices. Dan and Brian began throwing darts as, one-by-one, all the others sank into chairs to join the conversation begun by Trixie and Honey.

"Did you have any idea?" Honey asked her, gesturing to the ring.

"None. Well, when I saw the box, I had a pretty good idea, but before that, nothing."

Honey smiled smugly.

"You knew!" her friend accused her.

Honey, the quiet one, nodded and smiled. (Di yelled, "Hey! I’m the quiet one!")

"Dan, explain to me why it is that everybody knew about this before I did?"

Dan paused mid-throw to cast her a victimized look. "Search me," he said after failing to hit the bull’s eye. "I think the guy you want to ask is standing right here."

All eyes turned to Brian. "Me?! What did I do?"

"You’re the only person I told," Dan informed him.

"I didn’t say a word," Brian protested. "Maybe we should establish exactly who all knew before we begin making accusations."

Hands shot up around the room.

"I, for one, figured it out," Mart explained to Trixie. I saw the box, I saw how weird Dan was acting, and I put two-and-two together."

"Same here," Bobby and Di chimed in.

"We heard from Di," Jen said.

"Yeah," Honey echoed, unwilling to admit to her indiscretion.

"You know," Mart said, sitting down next to Di, "I find it humorous that of everyone in this room, the only person who didn’t see it coming was the detective."

Several people chuckled. Di swatted at him.

"Well, I didn’t know either," Jim spoke up, "so the only people who didn’t know were the detective and the PhD."

"Trixie," Penny asked during a lull in the conversation, "can I try it on?"

"Sure," she answered, handing it over. Dan eyed the whole proceeding carefully.

"Let’s remember to check her pockets before we leave," he advised Trixie. Jen laughed loudly, disrupting Terry’s shot.

"Well, that’s it," he said disgustedly as the cue ball careered past the eight ball and into the corner pocket. "Nice job, partner."

"I’m sorry." Jen looked truly contrite as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

"It was my fault," Dan said. "I’m just too funny for my own good."

"Not for ours, though!" Bobby sounded gleeful. "Who wants to play again? Penny, are you in?"

"No, thanks." She went back to examining the ring on her finger.

"Well, I’m not playing with Chuckles again," Terry said irritably.

"Come be my partner, Jen." Bobby chalked up his cue. "There’s no sense in quitting."

Jen looked radiant as she joined him on the other side of the table. Di looked sorry for her sister.

Honey began a new topic. "What I want to know is how many people knew about Mart and Di’s happy news before they made the announcement."

"I don’t think anybody did," Di answered.

Mart knew better than that, having had to tell Brian about it in a roundabout way just to get him to take off work and come home. All he’d actually said was, "We want to make an announcement, and I’d like you to be there," but it had achieved the desired result.

Brian hid his amusement at Di’s answer.

"You said the baby is due the middle of July?" Trixie asked Di. "What’s the latest you’d consider being in the wedding? Six, seven, eight months? I can plan the wedding date around that."

"I wouldn’t mind leaving from there to go to the hospital, Trix. Are you sure you want me to be in it, though? I’m going to be as big as a whale."

"You have to be in it! Besides the fact that you’re one of my best friends, you’re also my sister-in-law. The mother of my niece or nephew. I’d rather wait until after you have the baby if it would bother you to be in it before that."

"I’d be honored to be in it, Trix. Even if I would look like an elephant in an evening gown."

"Good," Trixie said. "And you won’t look like an elephant. Oh, and I have to tell you, I love the name Guinevere."

"When I was a little girl I used to pretend that it was my name," Di explained.

"So we’re going with Guinevere?" Mart looked as though he was having second thoughts.

"You said you liked it!" Di protested.

"But it’s so…unusual."

"It’s a very pretty name! Any girl would love to be named Guinevere. I suppose you’d like to name her Martina?"

"Well, how do you know it’s a girl?" Jim joined in. "There’s still a fifty-fifty chance you’ll be able to name it Jim."

Guffaws all around. Someone suggested "Jamesina."

"Just don’t name it after any well-loved aunts," Trixie advised. "Well-loved aunts have notoriously ugly names."

Mart raised an eyebrow. "Should we be worried because she thinks she’s well-loved, or because she thinks we might name the baby after her?" he asked Brian.

Brian shrugged. "Take your pick."

Bobby hooted.

"Don’t forget, there’s always nicknames." This from Honey, who knew it all too well. "You might end up calling her -or him - something totally different than the original name."

"Well, we’ll see," Mart decreed, obviously ready to pull the decision out of the public arena. "And I guess Gwenny’s not a bad name, is it?"

"What about Peter?" Brian asked suddenly. Everyone sobered up. "I mean, if it’s a boy."

Di smiled. "We could call him Petey. That’s nice."

Mart looked a little doubtful. "It sounds like a baby monkey, or something. Maybe just Pete."

"Well, whatever it is, and whatever it’s named," Trixie declared, patting Dan’s knee, "its Uncle Dan and I will be more than happy to babysit."

"Uncle Dan, huh?" Jim chuckled. "Who would’ve guessed?" he asked the room.

It didn’t respond.

 

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

 

Upon returning to New York after the New Year, Trixie and Honey’s first order of business was wedding shopping. Trixie was already planning on wearing her mother’s dress, but it didn’t come with a veil, and obviously she needed new shoes. Trixie and Dan had decided on a June wedding in Sleepyside, so time was of the essence.

They finished in record time, breaking Juliana’s mark of two hours, forty-seven minutes. After lunch they headed home.

As Honey was fumbling for her keys outside the apartment door, Trixie spied a large box, addressed to her, that had been almost hidden around the corner. She dragged it inside and made short work of opening it, having a pretty good idea what was in it and wanting to make sure.

"Eek!" Trixie slammed shut the lid of the box and turned to Honey. "Honey, don’t look."

Honey closed her eyes and said, "What?! What is it?"

"Hold on." Trixie contemplated moving the box into her bedroom to keep the contents hidden, but knew she’d still have to give her friend some kind of explanation about what was in it. Deciding that, since she was bound to find out sooner or later, now was as good a time as any to share the exciting news with Honey, Trixie picked up one of the box’s inhabitants and held it in front of Honey’s eyes. "Okay, you can look."

Honey didn’t immediately understand why Trixie was holding the book in her face, but assumed it was to keep her from seeing what was in the box. It took her a few seconds of studying the book’s cover to notice the author’s name: Trixie Belden.

"I don’t understand," she said, taking the book from her. "What is this?"

"This," Trixie answered with a gesture toward the box, "is my book."

"But how?" Honey turned the book over and began reading the description.

"This is what I’ve been working on since last year. The project I’ve been doing. The thing I’ve been writing on my laptop."

Honey half-listened, half-read. "But…but it’s about us!"

Trixie’s smile was triumphant. "Us and all the BWG’s. It’s about all the time we spent together growing up. And this is just the first one," she said, taking another book from the box. "Eventually it’s going to be a series. I’ve already got the second and third ones written, but this is the only one they’ve got published right now." Trixie gave her a few moments to let it sink in, then demanded impatiently, "Well? What do you think?"

"I think this is so cool! Where on earth did you get the idea to do it?"

Trixie sat down. "Well, when I was in my senior year English class at UCLA, I had this creative writing assignment, and I couldn’t think of anything to write. So, out of desperation, I wrote about us: our club, all the vacations, the mysteries. My professor was so interested in it she suggested I expand on it, and then when she read that, she sent it to the company that had published her last textbook. Then, they were so interested in it, they told me they wanted me to write a series for young adults, sort of like a new-age Nancy Drew. So, I started with our very first mystery, right after we met. I called it -"

"’The Runaway Millionaire!’" Honey finished for her, reading off the cover of the book. "This is about when we first met Jim!" Honey’s eyes were positively shining. "Trix, you have got to be the smartest person I’ve ever met!"

Trixie looked pleased but embarrassed. "I don’t know about that," she protested. "But did you see our names in the book?"

"Tiki Helden and Sunny Treeler! Oh, I love it! And Brian is Ryan, and Mart is Mark, and Jim is Winn Frakes."

"And guess what Di’s name is going to be in the one where we meet her? Liv. Do you love it? And Dan will be Stan, and my cousin Hallie will be Haley…I’ve got a million of them. Coming up with the names was the best part."

Honey opened up the book, eager to begin reading it. "Oh, and who did you dedicate it to? ‘In loving memory of my Dad, and for ‘Sunny,’ ‘Stan,’ and all the other BWG’s, the best family a person could have.’" Honey looked like she was going to cry. "Oh, Trix. You’re the best."

"I’ve got to call Dan," Trixie said. "I want him to come over right after he gets off work. He’s going to flip."

Honey settled into the couch and began reading. Trixie had written everything just as Honey remembered it. It was like traveling back in time. Her eyes lingered over everybody’s descriptions, from Tiki’s (short and round) to Winn’s (red-haired and husky) to Sunny’s (lovely and kind). ‘I’ve got to remember to give her a hard time about that,’ she thought to herself before she got lost in the book.

When Dan arrived, at well past 11:00, Trixie was waiting anxiously by the door.

"What took you?" she demanded, dragging him into the living room. There sat Honey, oblivious to the world, reading some kind of teenage romance, from the looks of it.

"I had to fill out a report," he said defensively. "What’s going on?" He leered at her. "You finally gonna let me spend the night?"

Trixie slapped his arm, frowning briefly at him. "Not even after the wedding, if you keep talking like that. I want you to see something." He thought about attempting another leer, but he could see that she knew right away what he was thinking about attempting, so he gave it up. She high-tailed it into her bedroom.

He sat next to Honey and the resulting movement caused her to look up for the first time. "Hi, Dan." She went back to her book.

Dan was beginning to feel just the slightest bit mistreated. Abused, even. He’d had a miserable night at work, filled with junkies and hookers and all manner of ugly things. After finishing up another boring piece of paperwork, he’d found Trixie’s ‘urgent’ message, telling him to come over as soon as possible. Then, when he’d tried to inject a little humor into the sitch, she went and beat on him. And who knew what Honey’s deal was. She was doing her very best to ignore him.

"Here it is," Trixie announced. She was holding up a book. It looked an awful lot like the one Honey was reading.

"What is it?" he asked carefully, rising from the couch. She was coming toward him excitedly, holding the book with both hands, sort of dancing it closer. She handed it over delicately, as if it were very fragile.

" ‘The Runaway Millionaire,’" he read. " ‘By Trixie Belden!’" He was shocked, absolutely shocked. He sat down and roughly pulled Honey’s book out of her hands. He looked at both copies for several seconds before looking up again.

Honey held her hand out impatiently, but with amusement in her eyes. Dan gave it back slowly, then watched in amazement as she returned to her reading.

"Well?" Trixie wanted to know. She sat down next to him. "What do you think?"

"That’s what you’ve been working on all this time? Your secret project?"

She nodded. "Wow." He looked back down at the copy in his hand, then turned it over and read the description. It took him a second to understand.

"It’s about the Bob-Whites?" he asked, entirely in italics. "What, like about one of the mysteries?"

"It’s about the very first mystery, when Honey and I met Jim. You - or should I say Stan Mandrake - won’t be in it until the eighth one."

He could see she was getting a lot of pleasure out of this, so he played along.

"There’ll be more?"

"Oh, yeah," she replied. "I already have the first three written. They’ll come out in regular intervals. There’s one for every mystery."

He nodded, turning again to the book in his hands. He opened it and began to peruse the first pages. Then: "Wait a minute," he said, looking up sharply, "did you say Stan Mandrake?"

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

 

"Misses Wheee-ler! Missss-es Wheee-ler!"

"Yes, Keisha?" Honey answered the little girl as patiently as she could. She had told the class repeatedly at the beginning of the year that she was Miss Wheeler, that the title Mrs. was reserved for married women, but none of the kids had seemed to care. At that point Honey had decided that it didn’t really matter to her, but she still gritted her teeth every time she heard it.

"I gotta go," Keisha said, performing the appropriate hand gestures. "Real bad."

"Alright, can you hold it a second, sweetie? We’ll be back inside in a few minutes." ‘Now, what we’re doing outside in the first place…’

For goodness-knew-what-reason, the principal of PS #15 had decided to conduct a fire drill on what felt like the coldest day of the year. Honey had gathered up her little brood of fourth-graders and headed for their assigned exit, all the while assuring them that it was, indeed, only a drill. In spite of that, panic-prone Wanda Zhong had begun to cry. After seeing all of the children safely out the door, Honey had turned her attentions to Wanda, quieting her just in time to witness a scuffle break out between two of the boys in the class. They had been itching for a fight all day, but Honey had been able to keep between them up until then. Once her back was turned they went at it. She managed to separate them with little effort, the cold having apparently sapped their energy. That was when Keisha started in, and pretty soon all of the kids were asking when it would be over. FINALLY, the school secretary stuck her head out the lonely side exit and told them they could return to class.

"I’m sorry, Ms. Wheeler - I guess we kind of forgot about you, over here on the side all by yourself." She ducked her mousy head back inside, saying, "Brrr! Chilly!"

After that, none of the kids had wanted to do any schoolwork. Those who weren’t busy creating diversions were sitting lethargically at their desks, by turns sniffling and coughing. If Honey had had any energy herself, she would have found some fun activity for them to do to get their spirits up. Instead, looking at the clock and finding that they had only fifty minutes of school left, Honey told them all to read quietly at their desks. By the time the bell rang at 2:30, the kids were talking so loudly Honey had a splitting headache, and it was all she could do to walk them to the front doors and dismiss them.

She had packed up everything she intended to take home that evening and had just locked her classroom door, when the principal rounded the corner.

"Ms. Wheeler; good, you’re still here." He sounded just like he always did, neither pleased nor displeased. Mandroid-like, he thrived on the rules and regulations which were the foundation of his job.

Honey smiled tiredly. "Hello, Mr. Fletcher. I was just going home."

"I won’t keep you. I just wanted to remind you that I’ll need that incident report by tomorrow morning." He gave a tight smile and turned away.

"Mr. Fletcher," Honey called him back, fighting the urge to close her eyes and will him away, "which incident report are you referring to?"

He swung back around, his eyes wide. "The one about the fight this afternoon." At Honey’s uncomprehending expression, he pursed his lips. "The fight between Eric Edwards and Damon Belcher. You will have to explain the particulars, including the way you handled the situation. And remember," he concluded, already moving down the hall, "I need it in triplicate, with your signature on all the copies."

Honey glared at the little man’s back and blew her breath out through gritted teeth. How had he even seen the ‘fight,’ as he called it, when he hadn’t been anywhere near her class? No one had even remembered her class!

She exited the building stormily and hailed a cab, fuming all the while. This was the third incident report she’d had to file so far, and they all said pretty much the same thing: ‘Student X and Student Y became aggravated, and engaged in a brief and nonviolent confrontation. They were made to apologize.’ Well, not this time!
This time she was going to write exactly what she wanted: ‘Eric and Damon are trouble-makers. I recommend they be taken out of my class and sent back home, where their miserable parents can find out how darling they really are.’

Honey’s little fantasy cheered her up a bit, imagining the reactions to such a report. She smiled and then sighed. She couldn’t decide if she was, or was not, looking forward to an evening all alone. Trixie had left that afternoon for Sleepyside and wouldn’t be back until the next day.

The taxi pulled up outside her apartment building and she paid and thanked the driver. When she stepped out onto the sidewalk her eyes immediately teared up because of the wind biting at them. By the time she made it through the doors and into the lobby she could barely see. She shuffled over to the elevator and waited wearily for the thing to arrive. She was fairly sure, when she finally made it to her door, that this was the worst day she’d ever had.

She unlocked the apartment door, trudged inside, tossed her keys on the front hall table and her school bag on the floor, then went into the kitchen to make some coffee and take an aspirin. What she saw sticking out from under her kitchen sink was enough to almost make her forget that headaches even existed.

Those were Brian’s legs. She’d know them anywhere. She was content to stand there and stare, but Brian spoiled her fun by poking his head out when he heard the kitchen door close behind her.

"Oh, Jeez! I had no idea it was so late. This is probably the last thing you want to see when you get home from work, isn’t it?" He scooted out, feet-first, and Honey watched as his t-shirt got caught on the bottom of the cabinet and came up a little, exposing a few inches of beautiful flesh. "Trixie called me before she left and said she found a leak under your sink." He straightened up, tugging his shirt back into place.

Honey took a moment to recall what she was supposed to be responding to. "Oh…was it bad?"

"No, it wasn’t bad at all. I’m almost done here, then I’ll get out of your hair." If he’d noticed anything unusual about her drooling, gaping stare, he didn’t mention it. He lay back down and went at something or other with one of his tools.

Honey shook herself and, seizing on his last words, declared, "There’s no way you’re leaving here without food, after working on our plumbing problem all day. What would you like for dinner?" She strode over to the refrigerator and peered in.

"Honey - ’’ Brian’s voice was muffled. "I haven’t been here even half a day. You don’t have to feed me." The noises which accompanied this statement indicated that some piece of her sink’s hardware was being manhandled, and she paused briefly to envy it.

"It’s the least I can do, Brian," she told him. "And I insist." She waited, but he didn’t argue.

After a second he lifted his neck and looked up at her. "I think that’s it. When I say, turn on the faucet." After she’d positioned herself he gave the signal.

"Did it work?" she asked after she’d let the water run for a few seconds. He hadn’t yelled at her to turn it off yet, so she figured it had.

"Yep, that’s it. You shouldn’t have any more problems." His upper body reappeared and he began packing up his equipment. "You can turn the water off now," he said, glancing at her.

"Oh!" Honey blushed. "I forgot what I was doing." She brought her mind back from its journey to…other places…and turned off the faucet. "So, what should I make?" she asked.

Brian smiled and closed the lid of his toolbox, then stood and looked at her. "I should have known there was a catch. Trixie tells me I get to come over and do some maintenance, but she didn’t say I’d have to eat a free dinner."

Honey’s headache was a thing of the ancient past. She laughed. "You know the rules, Brian. Pasta or chicken?"

He did a sort of rolling neck stretch as he thought about it. "What’s on hand?"

"Either one," Honey began, but she shocked herself and him by ending in a huge yawn. She slapped a hand over her mouth. "Excuse me!" she giggled.

"Well, that makes the choice easy, doesn’t it?" Brian teased. "You should be relaxing, and I can’t cook to save my life. So," he steered her to a chair. "I’ll order pizza."

For one horrible moment Honey was sure he meant that he would leave her here to rest, while he went home for dinner. Then he pulled the phone book out of its hidey-hole and began paging through it.

"Pepperoni?" he asked as he reached for the phone.

Honey nodded, thinking she’d never been so relieved to be off her feet before. She couldn’t imagine standing at the counter and actually making something. While Brian placed the order she attempted to gather the strength necessary to get up. What she wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee.

"Coffee?" Brian offered. Apparently he’d finished his phone call. Without waiting for an answer, he set about preparing a fresh pot. "Long day?"

"Oh, not especially," Honey lied. "I just skipped my lunch break, and I think my body finally found out." She stood up in one swift, determined motion. "Why don’t you go on in the living room, and I’ll bring our cups in."

"Let me get this out of your way - ’’ he bent down and retrieved his toolbox - "and then I ‘ll get the coffee. The pizza will be here at about 5:00, by the way." He left the room briefly, presumably to leave his tools near the front door. When he returned he gave her an amused look. "Still here, huh? Is it going to be a race to the coffee pot?"

"All right, you win," she told him with a smile. "I have to change my clothes, anyway."

She fled to her bedroom. The mirror confirmed that her hair could use some TLC, and she opted to go with just a little more face powder. Then she changed quickly into her most flattering comfortable outfit and raced to meet Brian in the living room.

He was standing near her large picture window in the living room, cup in hand. "This is a nice view you’ve got here."

Honey couldn’t agree more. She made herself look away from him as she retrieved her cup from the coffee table. "Mmm," she said, after taking the first sip. "How do you always manage to make a perfect cup of coffee?"

"You look so tired I’ll bet week-old coffee would taste good to you. Honey, do you like being a teacher?"

She started to say, "Yes, I love it," just like she told everybody. But Brian looked so concerned, so genuinely interested, that she couldn’t just give him Standard Answer Number 13.

"Well…" She sat down, cradling the cup in her hands. "I can honestly say there are days when I really like it."

"And then there’s days like today, right?"

"Exactly," she responded with a laugh. Normally she would drop it at that, never one to pour her troubles out on sympathetic ears. But his ear was so nice, and he seemed to want to hear more. "See, it’s not the kids, it’s the administration."

Brian looked like he understood exactly what she was saying.

"And on days like today, the administration makes me resent the kids, and that’s the worst part. See, when anything happens in class, we’re supposed to file something called an Incident Report, which is basically a legal disclaimer describing what happened and what we did to resolve the situation. Today, these two little boys got into a tiny little scuffle outside during a fire drill -"

"You had a fire drill today?! It only got up to twenty-two degrees today! What was the principal thinking?"

Honey gave him a grateful smile. "It was terrible," she agreed. "So we’re outside, freezing our rear-ends off, at a totally different exit than all the other classes, and somehow the principal sees the fight. He probably sits in his office with binoculars watching all of us get hypothermia. And you know, if he was, then he saw how well - Yes, I have to say well - I handled the whole thing. They weren’t fighting for more than three seconds when I pulled them apart, no bruises or cuts on either one, but he comes up to me after class and tells me, ‘Be sure to file that report,’" she finished in a falsetto. Then she immediately felt ashamed of herself. "He’s really a very nice man. I think he’s just been doing this so long he’s forgotten that the most important part of teaching is not the paperwork, it’s the kids."

"And add that to the fact that you had a headache, which I’m sure made him harder to handle."

Honey gave him an inquisitive look.

"You always squint whenever you have a headache, and you were squinting like crazy when you came home," Brian explained.

"Oh." She didn’t think she’d ever felt so flattered. "Well, it’s pretty much gone now. I guess the coffee did the trick."

"So, are the reports hard to write?"

"No, except that they make you mad to have to write them. Look." She went to fetch it from her school bag. "Here’s the form we have to use."

Brian took it and sat down with her on the couch, reading the paper as he did so. "’List three positive steps you plan to take to ensure that the incident doesn’t happen again?!’" he read aloud. "What do they think you are, a kindergartner?"

"It’s terrible, Brian, the way teachers say stuff like that to each other. Granted, the job is such that you should always be trying to learn and grow, but I think that once you graduate you should earn a little more respect than that. And you would not believe some of the dumb things I heard while I was still in school. You know, in college? In graduate school - graduate school! - we had this class where we had to sit around in a circle holding hands! ‘Sharing,’ the teacher called it. And then there was this one exercise - oh, you probably don’t want to hear this, do you?" She stopped rather suddenly, which is hard to do when fuming.

"Sure I do," Brian told her, madly curious as to why she had stopped. What had she had to do for that exercise?

"It was just so silly," she explained. Then, laughing at the memory, she continued. "We were supposed to turn to the person next to us and hug them, and tell them something nice about themselves. I was trying so hard to think of something to say to the guy next to me, and I finally just said, ‘You have nice hair.’ I felt so stupid!"

"Well, I don’t know. It’s the kind of thing you never expect to hear, but if you think about it, it’s nice to know someone thinks your hair is nice." He ran a hand self-consciously through his own cow-licked hair, which he had obviously not had time to fix before coming over that morning. "When I was in medical school, we were doing a group observation in a morgue, watching some guy’s autopsy. He was a really young guy, no more than about twenty-five years old. I think he’d had a stroke or something. Anyway, other people kept saying what a weird corpse he made, like he looked like he’d just fallen asleep. And then someone said, ‘Hey, he looks like Belden!’" He laughed. "So there are worse things than being told you have nice hair."

She shocked herself by teasing him. "Well, I’m sure when the time comes, you’ll make a very nice corpse," she said, patting his hand.

The doorbell rang, and they both jumped up and raced for the door. She lost precious seconds, however, in having to go to her purse, and Brian already had his cash out and the door open before her money had cleared her wallet. He paid and tipped the delivery boy, tossing a wicked smile her way.

"Next one’s mine," she promised.

She directed him to the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. When she returned with the plates he handed her a can of Coke. The pizza box was open on the coffee table.

"How was your day?" she asked after settling back with her food.

"Well, I had the day off work, so that was nice."

"You had the day off, and you had to come over here and do our plumbing."

"But I got dinner out of the deal."

"Dinner you paid for."

"Alright, then, a dinner companion. If I were home right now I’d be eating alone."

"You know you’re always welcome to come over here for dinner, whenever you don’t have other plans. You do know that, right?" Honey asked earnestly.

"Be careful, Honey - with an invitation like that I’ll be over here every night."

"Hey, I’m always here by myself anyway. You know Trix and Dan."

To Honey’s disappointment, Brian latched onto the latter statement, rather than the former.

"They’re out a lot?"

Honey didn’t want to tell Brian that "out" usually meant Dan’s apartment, figuring he might take that the wrong way. Instead, she simply nodded. "They are engaged, after all. I’m just a fifth wheel."

After a few moments of silent eating, Brian changed the subject.

"Not to change the subject or anything, but are Jim and Mary dating?"

Honey grimaced. "Do you think so, too?"

"He hasn’t said anything to you?"

"No. But they have been spending a lot of time together. I know they’ve got the school and all, but does that mean she has to come to New York with him? And eat dinner at Nana’s?"

He looked pained. "Oh, wow. She had dinner with your grandma? I didn’t know that."

Suddenly, Honey’s pizza didn’t taste so good. Picturing Mary as her sister-in-law had turned her stomach. Now she knew how Brian and Trixie had felt just a few months ago. There was nothing wrong with Mary, but…

"Trix told me she was going to be ordering invitations this week," Brian remarked after a while. "What’s the big deal? Can’t she just go buy them at Woolworth’s?"

Honey, draining her pop can, smiled indulgently. "Not if you want nice ones. She’s going to be ordering about 200 of them."

"200?! There’s gonna be 200 people at this wedding? Trix doesn’t even know 200 people!"

"You’d be surprised how quickly it can add up. Do you remember how few people there seemed to be at Hans and Juliana’s wedding? We actually sent out about 150 invitations for that one."

Brian shook his head. "It sounds like a waste of paper, if you ask me. Why send out 200 if you only expect 100 to accept?"

"Because you have to remember all of the aunts and uncles and cousins who live too far away to come, but will be insulted if they don’t get invited."

"Hmmm." He shrugged. "Well, anyway, Dan might know a lot of people." He stood, picking up their empty dishes and cans. "Great dinner, Honey. You’re a marvelous cook."

"And you’re a marvelous dinner companion. We should do this more often."

She realized that anyone but Brian would have picked up on the bald-faced overtures she was flinging at him. With Brian it was anyone’s guess.

Hit and a miss. She saw him checking his watch, so she had to act fast.

"Do you want to watch a movie? I haven’t seen this yet - Dan and Trixie left it."

"Who’s in it?" He was already settling himself down on the couch.

"Oh, that one guy. It’s supposed to be pretty good." She popped the movie in and turned off the lights.

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"And you smell like one, too!" Mart’s loud, obnoxious singing voice drowned out everyone else’s as he added a dramatic ending to the traditional birthday song.

"Blow them out, Bobby! Make a wish!" Mrs. Belden watched her youngest think hard for a couple of seconds, then extinguish the cake. Clapter erupted.

"Those are healthy seventeen-year-old lungs," Roger commented.

"I’ll say!" Mrs. Belden appeared to be wiping spittle from her cheek. "That’ll teach me not to stand behind the cake."

"I’ll start cutting the cake if you want to open your presents." Trixie took a knife to the layered concoction.

"Let’s see what we have here," Mrs. Belden said as she sorted through the pile of presents. "You can start with Brian’s. It’s the biggest."

Bobby took the gift from his mother. "Thanks, Brian. It’s not just a baseball in a big box, is it?"

Brian laughed as he accepted a piece of cake from Trixie, but he declined to comment.

"Well, that would certainly correspond with another gift you got," Roger said enigmatically, waggling his eyebrows. "But I’m not naming names."

"Oh, wow," Bobby said after he’d torn the paper from the package. "No way!"

"Let’s see it," Trixie told him. "Hold it up."

Bobby held the box up for inspection, revealing a very expensive-looking camcorder.

"Whoa! That puts my present to shame," Mart announced. "Why in the world would you spend that much money on the boy?"

"Well, he’s been begging for it, that’s for sure." Mrs. Belden shook her head. "I guess he knew what he had to do to get it."

Bobby was busy reading the description on the box, all the while saying, "This is so awesome." Finally, he looked up with a smile. "Thanks, Brian!"

Brian told him he was welcome.

"All right. Mine next." Trixie plopped a bag down on the table in front of her younger brother. "I saved the receipt in case you don’t like it."

Bobby pulled from the bag a very nice jacket. "No, I do like it. I like it a lot. Thanks, Trix." He tried it on.

"That fits really well," Mrs. Belden said, tugging on the sleeves. "Nice job, Trixie. I always have the hardest time finding clothes that fit him."

"Okay," Di said, after the jacket was removed and stowed away. "Now, Bobby, you may not like the one we got you. I want to say right now that it was Mart’s idea, so you’ll have to take it up with him."

"Where’d he go?" Bobby asked, looking around. "He was right here."

"He went out to the car to get it. He’ll be here in a second."

"Yep, here I am." As Mart set the wrapped package down on the table, it made a very curious "ping" sound. "Fire when ready."

Trixie and Mrs. Belden leapt back about a foot when they saw what lay under the paper. It was a giant, slithering snake, and it didn’t look happy. Mart moved quickly to pull the thing from the cage, draping it around his neck and looking very pleased at everyone’s response.

"Oh, man, that is sick!" Bobby looked almost as horrified as his mother and sister. "Can I hold it?"

"Sure. It’s yours, dude." Mart helped him get a hold of it.

"What kind is it?"

"A South American boa," the zoologist answered readily. "It was raised in captivity by someone who found it out in the rainforest with some pretty serious injuries. But they had a dozen or so other snakes to take care of, all with the same story, so they asked me if I wanted this guy."

"He feels so leathery," Bobby said. "And I think he’s trying to squeeze me to death."

"Oh, that’s just his version of a hug. You’ll get used to it."

"No," Mrs. Belden interjected, "you won’t. Mart, Bobby, I’m sorry, but that animal is not staying in this house."

Di gave Mart a knowing look. "I told you so." Turning to Mrs. Belden, she said, "I don’t blame you a bit, Moms. It’s been terrible riding with it from the airport."

"But Moms," Bobby began. Brian thought he sounded a little less than enthusiastic.

"No buts. I have to put my foot down, Bobby. I would be terrified if that thing escaped and I was the only one at home. Mart will just have to take it back to whomever it was he got it from. I’m sorry, Di - that means you’ll have to ride with it again."

"Well, it was nice while it lasted," Bobby lamented as he attempted to loosen the snake’s grip and return it to Mart. "I don’t think he wants to go," he said, his voice straining a bit as the snake wound around his neck. Trixie screamed, but Mart calmly went to work loosening it. He had it back in its cage in less than a minute.

"Well, I hate to follow an act like that, but here’s my present." Roger handed Bobby an envelope. Bobby opened it quickly, apparently having some inkling as to what was inside. "Oh, you didn’t have to do this, Rog." Bobby shook his head as he pulled the present from the envelope. "Man, this is way too much. Are these season tickets?"

"They are. I pulled some strings over at Yankee Stadium."

Mrs. Belden looked from Bobby’s awestruck face to Roger’s smiling one. "I don’t know, Roger - do you think he likes them?"

Bobby took the hint and began thanking the man profusely. "Talk about the gift that keeps on giving," he ended up by saying.

Trixie smiled giddily to herself as Bobby stowed the tickets away in his gift bag. She knew what she was giving Dan for his birthday this year.

"Now just one more present and then you can have some cake." Mrs. Belden handed him her present. All eyes were on him as he unwrapped the smallish parcel. It turned out to be an expensive picture frame and a photograph of Bobby and his father. Trixie recognized the picture as one her mother had taken after one of Bobby’s baseball games. Bobby looked to be twelve or thirteen in the picture, so it had to have been taken the summer before Mr. Belden died.

Bobby literally didn’t know what to say, besides "Thanks." Mrs. Belden, who was standing arm in arm with Roger, broke the silence.

"Well, who wants coffee?"

Later, the younguns were sitting alone in the living room talking over the evening’s events. Roger had gone home, and Mrs. Belden and Bobby had gone to bed. Di, at her mother’s request, had gone over to her parents’ house to spend the night.

"Do you have any idea how much season tickets cost?" Mart put forth to no one in particular.

"He said he pulled strings to get them," Trixie reminded him.

"Well, that’s several thousand dollars worth of string-pulling. He must be a pretty important person."

"There’s no doubt that Moms has herself a nice catch. He’s rich, powerful, and he really loves her." Trixie sighed. "You guys do know it’s coming, right?"

"What?" Brian asked.

"Well, first he and Moms announce to us at Christmas that they’re seeing each other."

"Having no idea that you had already spoiled the surprise," Mart added.

"Then Moms invites him to Bobby’s birthday, which happens to fall on the day before Valentine’s Day. Then, Moms gives Bobby a picture of him and Dad - the same picture that has been in Moms’s room ever since it was taken. She seems to be preparing for something."

"What?" Brian repeated his question with a touch of irritation.

"I think what she is saying is that Moms and Roger are planning on getting married," Mart helped out.

"Not married, just engaged. I mean, it will lead to marriage, but I think Moms expects him to pop the question tomorrow night. I overheard them talking about dinner reservations." Trixie gave her brothers a pointed look, and saw that they agreed about the significance of her findings. No one spoke for a few minutes. "Well," Trixie said finally, "I have to say that I never imagined that we would ever have a stepfather."

"It’s not like we’re little kids," Brian responded. "I think the term stepfather is reserved for someone who raises another man’s kids. None of us is ever even going to live in the same house as them."

"What about Bobby?" Mart asked.

"None of us except Bobby," Brian corrected himself. "He seems thrilled about it, anyway."

Trixie and Mart stared glumly at one another.

"I’m going to bed," Brian announced before standing up and striding toward the door.

"I didn’t mean to upset him," Trixie said to Mart. "I mean, I don’t like it, either, but…"

"Don’t worry about it. I think I’m going to turn in, too, after I give Di a call. I’ll see you tomorrow, Trix."

"Goodnight," she responded, almost regretting she’d ever said anything in the first place. ‘Why do boys have to be so emotionally constipated?’ she thought to herself. ‘Those two have some serious issues.’

The next day, Brian had to leave earlier than Trixie and Mart in order to get to work. Before he left, his mother called him into the den and had a private conversation with him. Trixie was very close to pressing a glass against the door, and would have if Mart hadn’t stopped her.

"Trust me, it’s nothing you want to hear."

"How do you know?" Trixie wanted to know.

"Because she said the same thing to me earlier, while Brian was in the shower."

"Well?" Trixie sounded impatient. "Just tell me. What’s it going to hurt?"

"If it’s the same thing we talked about, she’s telling him she and Roger have talked about getting married, and she wants to know how Brian feels about it."

"But, why?"

"I don’t know. I guess she wants permission or something. She told me that she can see herself being happy with Roger, but she won’t do it if we don’t want her to."

"What did you say?"

"What do you think I said? Stick it in your ear? I told her I was very happy for her." Mart walked away.

Trixie turned out to be right about the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. She told Honey about it the next day after returning to New York. They were just finishing up lunch.

"Is your mom excited?" Honey decided to take the congratulatory approach.

Trixie answered that she was. "She wants to throw a big wedding in August or September. She was going to do it sooner, pretty much right after mine, but she figures Di will be more comfortable then."

"That’s probably true."

"Plus," Trixie added, "Roger apparently has a daughter, whom he hasn’t seen in years. She wrote him recently, saying she’d really like to get to know him. But she can’t be here until the end of the summer. Can you believe that?" she asked. "A stepsister?"

Honey looked troubled. "Wow. How’s Bobby?"

Trixie answered with a half-hearted shrug. "Who knows? Officially, of course, we’re all very happy for Moms." She paused, biting her bottom lip. "She gave Bobby her favorite picture of Dad. For his birthday." Honey could see that it was taking a mighty effort for Trixie to keep the corners of her mouth from pulling down.

Honey’s eyes reflected the tears which Trixie was, surprisingly, not crying. "How are you?" she asked gently.

"Oh, I’m fine, really. It’s just…different. Brian and Mart - well, Mart’s got Di. He seems okay, all things considered."

"And how is Brian doing?" Honey’s concern was palpable.

Trixie’s tears finally came, but they were very few and didn’t spill out of her eyes. "I don’t know." Her voice wavered, and she swallowed before continuing. "It’s just like when Dad died, like it doesn’t really matter to him, but…" she didn’t know how to finish.

Honey nodded, and Trixie knew that she understood. They sat there for a while, thinking their own thoughts. Finally Honey stood.

"Well, did you decide where your reception’s going to be?" she asked without the usual excitement such conversations entailed.

"I guess we’ll just go with the church hall. It’s big enough, and certainly convenient. I was hoping for something a little more personal, but what can you do? The priest really sold Dan on it." Trixie didn’t seem too upset.

"I think that’s a great idea. I mean, backyard receptions are quaint and everything, but what happens if it rains?"

"Honey," Trixie said somewhat tentatively, "this is going to be so weird."

Honey, who had begun to straighten up the kitchen, was halfway to the dishwasher. She stopped and turned to Trixie. "What is? Being married?"

"Uh-huh." She ceased her table-wiping and dropped into a chair, looking slightly nervous, but mostly excited. "We’ve been going to pre-marriage counseling, you know, with the priest? There are some things about Dan I never would have guessed - things I never would have even thought about asking."

Though she in no way resembled a feline, Honey’s curiosity could very easily have killed her, had Trixie not willingly answered her breathless, "Like what?"

Trixie smiled. "For instance, he wants to have as many kids as - and these are his words - ‘God gives us.’"

Honey raised her eyebrows, impressed.

"And, did you know that his greatest dream is to run a camp, almost a ranch, really, for kids in danger of getting into trouble with the law? I guess he has a soft spot for gang members, especially."

"Well, sure," Honey replied, setting her stack of dishes down. "I can certainly understand that. There’s no telling what might have happened to him if Regan hadn’t brought him to Sleepyside."

Trixie nodded. "I think being a police officer is getting to him. All he ever sees is the bad part. He’s not part of the rehabilitation, just the punishment." She said this absentmindedly, as she plucked at the dishrag in her hand.

Honey smiled and sat across from her, leaning in. "So," she said, "is he going to make a good husband?"

"See? That’s what I mean! Can you believe Dan Mangan is going to be my husband?! This is going to be so weird!"

Honey laughed at her. "It had to happen sometime, Trix," she told her. "The weirdest thing is going to be seeing you as a mother of twelve."

"Twelve!" Trixie exclaimed. "I think I’d fall apart before that. I think God knows I couldn’t handle that many births." Trixie finished wiping the table and tossed the dishrag into the sink. "Okay, I’m out of here. I’m going to go meet Brian at the hospital and go out for coffee with him."

"Are you going to ask him?" Honey sounded excited.

"Yep. Wish me luck."

"You won’t need it," Honey replied, "but good luck anyway."

 

"What would I have to do?" Brian sat at the booth carefully considering the request Trixie had just made of him.

"Practically nothing. We’ll just go up partway together, then you’ll sit down and I’ll continue on by myself."

"And that’s it?"

"That’s all. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of brides being given away at their weddings. Don’t you remember Hans and Juliana’s wedding? Mr. Wheeler gave her away."

"I guess so," Brian answered. "I just didn’t think it was something you’d go for."

"So? Will you do it?"

"Sure. It’s not like Dan asked me to be an usher, so I’m free that day."

"He didn’t ask you because he knew what I had planned," Trixie explained. "I told him, ‘Hands off! He’s mine.’"

"So who all is in this wedding anyway?"

"Honey, Di, Mart, Bobby, and you. And Moms sort of, because Mart will walk her up before the ceremony."

"And then Mart and Di will walk up together, and then Honey and - who, Bobby? That’s not right."

"Well, actually, Honey and Mart will walk up together, and Di and Bobby. Honey is my maid of honor and Mart is the best man."

"Wouldn’t it make more sense to let Di and Mart be together?"

"You really are clueless about weddings, aren’t you?" Trixie shook her head teasingly. "That wouldn’t make sense at all. Honey and Mart are the only ones who come up front with me and Dan. Everyone else sits in the pews. There’s no way Di and Mart could be together during the ceremony."

"Well, it doesn’t make much sense to me, but it’s your wedding." He took the last bite of pie and drained his coffee. "Thanks for the snack, by the way. Even if it was just a bribe."

"You bet." Taking her cue from him, she reached for her coat and stood up.

"How about if I give you a ride back to the apartment? I don’t have to get back to work right away."

"That’s okay. I’ll take a cab. I think I’m going to call Honey and tell her I’m going over to Dan’s, anyway."

"Why don’t you and Dan go over to your and Honey’s apartment?"

Trixie shrugged. "I don’t know. I guess we could, but we don’t want to get in Honey’s way."

"Get in her way? I think she’d be happy for the company."

"I doubt it. Every time we spend time there she goes into her room and lets us have the place to ourselves. If we’re not there she can at least watch TV in peace." They had by now reached the sidewalk, and Trixie proceeded to hail a cab.

"Then why don’t you spend a little less time with Dan and a little more time with Honey?"

Trixie looked at him. "I spend time with Honey. I just had lunch with her, in fact. But it’s not like she’s some lonely shut-in; she has a life of her own. She’s over at her grandma’s a lot."

The cab pulled up and Trixie got in. "You know, Brian," she said before shutting the door, "if you’re so worried about her, why don’t you hang out with her more?"

Brian had no ready answer, instead telling Trixie goodbye.

 

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

 

Honey jumped up when she heard the buzzer sound. She knew who it was before she heard his voice. "Come on up," she told him, unlocking the front door.

She took one last look at the guest bedroom, satisfied that she had made it as comfortable as possible for Mart. She was a little less sure how to accommodate his traveling companion, but she trusted Mart to handle that.

"Hey," he said when she opened the door to his knock. He looked extremely tired and put out. "I’m sorry about this, Honey. Blame it on pregnancy hormones."

"Yours or your wife’s?" she joked lightly as she shut the door behind him. "Where is the, uh -"

"The snake?" Mart lifted up his oversized poncho to reveal Bobby’s boa wrapped around his torso. "I figured transporting it this way would be less likely to incite a riot."

"I see what you mean." Honey watched, transfixed, as Mart began to unwind the snake. "He won’t bite, will he?"

"No. He’s perfectly harmless. If you respect him, he’ll respect you."

"Just the same, I think I’ll be sleeping with my bedroom door closed tonight. Can I get you anything? Have you already eaten dinner?"

"Oh, yeah." Mart took off his poncho and looked inquiringly at Honey, who indicated a nearby coat rack but kept her distance from him and the snake. "In fact, Di had already gone to sleep, and I was just about to, when I called you. We have a really early flight tomorrow, so we wanted to get some rest. I was reading in bed, and everything was going along alright, when suddenly my beautiful wife starts pummeling me and calling me a baby killer."

"Did she have a bad dream?"

"You better believe it. Moms tells me that women have really vivid dreams when they’re pregnant, and I guess this one was a whopper. All I could get out of her was that the snake was going to kill our baby, and I had to get it out of the house now. She refused to wait. So, I called the White Plains zoo, but they didn’t want it. The nearest place that would take it was the Bronx, but they told me I had to wait until seven tomorrow morning, when someone is there to take it. I had to move our flight back, but Di told me it was better than seeing our baby get eaten." Mart threw his hands up in the air. "I could understand where she was coming from if the baby were actually born, but she’s just being ridiculous. Don’t you agree?"

"Well, I wouldn’t say ridiculous…She’s just under a lot of stress right now, Mart. You’ve got to understand that."

"Believe me, I understand what it is to be under a lot of stress." He gestured toward the snake.

"Well, I have the guest bedroom all ready, if you just want to go to bed."

"I think I will, actually. I told you, I would be more than happy to sleep on your couch. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble."

"None at all. The extra bedroom is there, anyway, so there’s no sense in not using it. Let me show you which one it is."

Mart followed her to the spacious suite and thanked her again before going inside.

Honey was still laughing over his plight when the door buzzed again. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was getting close to nine. "Who would it be this late?" she wondered. "Please, just don’t let it be -"

"Mr. Paolo! To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked her visitor politely as she invited him inside.

"Please - Marco. I just got in from Geneva," he said importantly. "I had some business there. Your apartment was on my way from the airport, and I took the chance that you would not mind if I called to inquire after your grandmother."

"You’re so…kind to care so much. Nana is very well, I think. I was with her on Wednesday and she seemed…very well."

"I’m glad to hear it. There is no one else in my acquaintance of whom I think more highly, present company excepted, of course."

Honey laughed, all the while thinking, ‘Gross, gross, gross…’

"I must admit, I had another reason for coming-" Marco’s voice trailed off as his gaze wandered away from Honey and over to the pajama-clad, snake-draped man who had just entered his view. The man appeared to be headed toward the kitchen, but he saw Marco and made a beeline for him, instead.

"Whoops! Excuse me, I didn’t know Honey had company." The man extended his free hand toward Marco as he held the snake’s head in his other. "Mart Belden."

"Marco Paolo." He shook the hand but kept his eyes on the snake.

"Marco Paolo! I’ve heard of you. Oh, don’t mind him," Mart said, hefting the snake farther up on his shoulder. The snake seemed very interested in the short, well-dressed man before him. Mart stepped closer to accommodate his pet. "We were just on our way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk - he can’t get to sleep without his milk, you know." He stared at Marco, emphasizing the importance of what had appeared on the surface to be a rhetorical statement.

"Is that so?" Marco looked very…something. Honey was having a hard time reading his expression. "Well, look at the time. I apologize for intruding so late, Madeleine. I’ll just be getting out of your hair now."

"I’ll tell Nana you asked about her. It was nice to see you again."

Marco beat a hasty retreat.

"Thank you, Mart," she sighed in relief. "He was just about to tell me his ‘other reason’ for coming, and I don’t even want to think about what it might have been. You timed your milk run perfectly."

"Snakes don’t drink milk, Honey," he told her with a smile. "I told you I’d heard of Marco - Dan told me all about him. He hates the guy." He raised a curious eyebrow. "What’s up with that?"

Honey laughed. "I guess he just hates him on my behalf. I probably gave him the impression that he bothers me a lot more than he actually does. I really don’t see him that often."

"So you do like Marco?" Mart seemed unsure of his 411, but very eager to update it.

Honey’s grimace and sudden recoil had nothing to do with Mart’s snake or his bare feet. Mart nodded, satisfied, then said goodnight again and returned to bed.

 

Two hours later, Trixie led Dan quietly through the apartment door, determined not to wake Honey. He set his overnight duffel down and took off his coat.

"Do you want anything?" she whispered. "Water, food, anything?"

"No, I’m fine," he assured her. "I think we should probably just get to bed."

After hanging their coats on the coat rack, Trixie took his hand and led him away. He grabbed his bag, stumbling a little to keep up.

"Shhh!" Trixie giggled, scolding him for his clumsiness. "Honey’s gonna hear you."

"Sorry!" Dan laughed as quietly as he could. "What’s the big hurry? It’s not like a little extra time is going to kill us."

Nevertheless, Trixie proceeded at her rapid pace, stopping just outside the bedroom door. "All right," she said. "I’ll see you in the morning, six o’clock sharp. No dilly-dallying." She stood on her toes to kiss him.

"Six. Got it." He started to reach for the doorknob, then stopped. "Can I walk you to your door?"

Trixie happily accepted, taking his arm and allowing him to lead her across the living room and to her door.

"Good night," she told him, almost soundlessly this time. Honey’s bedroom was right next door.

"’Night." After a quick goodnight peck on the lips, he retraced his steps across the living room. He cautiously eased the door to the guest room open.

Trixie, who had just begun her bedtime preparations, dropped the toothbrush in her hand at the startled shout which came forth from the direction of the guest room. She flew out the door, practically colliding with Honey.

"Dan?"

"Mart?"

Honey and Trixie eyed each other in confusion, each naturally assuming the voice had belonged to the only male they had understood to be on the premises. Their eyes widened at the profusion of language which then began to flow from the guest room, not all of it quite sanitary. It was obvious, however, that the words were coming from two different people. They were halfway across the living room when first Dan and then Mart appeared.

"What the heck are you doing here?" they each wanted to know.

"Trixie and I have to be somewhere early tomorrow, so I was gonna sleep in there." Dan gestured toward the guest bedroom. "What is that snake doing in the bathtub?"

"He was trying to get some sleep, until you woke him up! We all were, in fact."

"Mart," Trixie asked, "why are you here?"

"I have to go over to the Bronx zoo in the morning to drop the snake off."

"Well," Honey began, trying to diffuse the situation, before breaking out in laughter at Mart’s and Dan’s expressions. The laughter spread as far as Trixie but no farther.

"Okay, we’ll just do a slight change of sleeping arrangements." Suddenly, Trixie was all business. "Mart, you sleep in my bedroom. Dan, you sleep in the guest bedroom. Can I room with you, Honey?"

Honey nodded, still laughing.

Mart and Dan moved to implement the new plan. "Just don’t forget to take your snake with you," Dan needlessly informed him as Mart went to gather his things.

 

"By signing here, you agree to the initial lump sum indicated here - " the lawyer pointed to a spot on the contract he held, "here, and here, and the monthly payment, of an amount to be determined by no later than one year from now, for a length of time not to exceed twenty-five years, indicated here and here. This contract is binding and non-negotiable, and any forfeiture will result in prosecution. Do you understand the terms as I’ve laid them out? Very well. Sign each of the first ten pages and initial the last two."

Dan took the pen the man handed him and put it to paper where indicated. Trixie gave his arm an encouraging squeeze as she watched the proceedings with interest.

"And now you, Miss Belden." The lawyer took the pen Dan had handed him and gave it to Trixie. She likewise signed the papers.

"And finally, you."

Jim scooted his chair closer to the table and took the pen from Trixie. For a long time the only sound in the room was the "scritch-scritch" of the pen and the turning of pages. After a few minutes Jim looked back up and set down the pen. "Is that it?" he asked his lawyer.

"Yes it is." The man scooped up the contract and looked over every page. "You will be receiving the deed by priority mail within the next week," he told Dan. "But as of right now, you and Ms. Belden are the owners of this parcel of land."

Jim stood up from his chair for the first time in several hours and shook Dan’s hand and Trixie’s. "Congratulations to you both," he said. "There is nobody I would rather have sold Ten Acres to."

Trixie picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. "You know, it’s not just ten acres anymore. Maybe we should change the name to Sixty Acres."

Jim smiled as he considered the proposition. "Somehow I just don’t think it has the same ring."

"I don’t know," Dan said. "It has a certain charm."

The lawyer cleared his throat to get Jim’s attention. "I’m just going to put these in the mail. If I don’t see you again, please accept my congratulations. To all of you." As he left the room Trixie also made motions to go.

"We have that appointment at the church, Dan," she reminded him.

"Oh, right." Dan looked at his watch. "Well, Jim, it was nice to see you again. And a pleasure doing business with you, of course."

"Of course." Jim shook his hand again and gave Trixie a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, I did mean that, by the way. If I had to sell Ten Acres, I’m glad to be able to have sold it to you. Just do me a favor and let me stop by the camp from time to time, all right? I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that someone is going to be able to use that land to help disadvantaged kids."

"Well, we’re thrilled to be able to do it," Trixie told him. "I’m just so sorry that it couldn’t be you. I know how bad you felt to have to call it quits just because the bank wouldn’t approve the loan."

"Well, I haven’t given up altogether. For now, Nana’s offered me a position with the company. But I still want there to be a Katje Jones Home for Orphaned Boys. It’s just going to take me a little longer than I thought, to get one going."

"Good luck to you, man." Dan took Trixie by the arm. "We’ll see you, okay? Take care." To Trixie he said teasingly, "First you hurry me along, then you indulge yourself in a chat with Jim. Don’t you know the man has other places he needs to be?"

Trixie turned back to Jim as she and Dan walked out the door. "Thanks again, Jim. I hope we see you soon."

"Well?" Trixie turned to Dan in the elevator with a touch of excitement in her voice. "How does it feel to be a landowner?"

"I think it feels great," Dan replied with a half-smile, "but then I’m an old hand at it. How do you feel?"

"I keep forgetting about Mr. Maypenny’s cabin. I mean, your cabin." She brightened. "Well, anyway, this is our land. How does that sound?"

"Very nice," he assured her with a smile. "Now all we need is a house we can live in. You realize that if we’re as productive as Mart and Di, Mr. Maypenny’s cabin is only going to work for so long."

Trixie blushed, but she had to agree. "I’m sure we’ll work it out," she told him.

"Of course," he agreed. "You know, we’re going to have quite a few people’s questions to answer when they see us traipsing all over what everybody thinks is Jim’s land."

"We’ll just tell them we bought it," she answered. "With a little help from Tiki Helden and Stan Mandrake, that is."

Dan groaned melodramatically as they stepped out of the elevator. "Stan Mandrake," he repeated, shaking his head.

As he was helping her into the car, Dan looked up at the window of the office they had just been in. "I wonder how Jim feels."

Trixie reflexively glanced up, as well. "He seemed okay. In fact," she added, as Dan climbed in behind the steering wheel, "he seemed eerily okay. I thought we’d see at least something."

"Aren’t you the one who said he wasn’t effusive?" Dan pulled out onto the main drag of Sleepyside and started the two blocks toward the church. "But it was kind of weird," he conceded, tossing a look her way. "Maybe he’s glad to be rid of the problems."

"Yeah, maybe he knows something we don’t," Trixie agreed, but with no real fear of such a thing.

They made it to the church in just under three minutes, but thirty minutes early for their appointment with Father Jones. They decided to have coffee at Wimpy’s.

"Seriously, though," Dan said as they slid into the booth. "He’s gotta be just a little upset over how things have turned out. I’ve got his girl and his land. That’s gotta hurt."

If Trixie had not seen the teasing look in Dan’s eyes, she would have seriously considered calling off the wedding. As it was, she casually rejoined with, "Well, lucky for you his girl could afford that land. I own you, buddy."

"Maybe after the wedding, I’ll wear a sign that says ‘Trixie’s bi--h,’" he suggested complacently.

Trixie’s eyes widened in shock, but she laughed loudly. Their discussion turned then to details about the wedding ceremony.

"How’s your dress coming along?" he asked with what appeared to be genuine interest.

"Almost done. We just had to let down the hem a couple of inches and alter the, uh, the top part." She stopped, embarrassed that she had started to say such a thing, but as far as she could tell Dan hadn’t understood her meaning, anyway. "What about the Honeymoon? Any ideas yet?" She leaned forward eagerly.

"No, and I don’t know why it’s all up to me in the first place. Don’t you want to decide together?" It was half complaint and half plea.

She looked upon him in consternation. "I’ve been to so many places," she explained. "I want to go to someplace you want to go. Are there any trips you wish you hadn’t missed out on in high school? Arizona, Virginia, Vermont, London? Paris?" she added the last choice with an elevation of her eyebrows.

Dan frowned unhappily. "No. I don’t know. Where do you want to go?"

Trixie could see she wasn’t going to get him to commit to a location. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he had an inferiority complex about the disparity in their travel histories.

She leaned in closer. "You know what I’ve always wanted to do?"

"What?"

"Take a cruise. To some tropical islands, or something. The ocean in California isn’t very pretty. I would love to see the Caribbean."

"Then we take a Caribbean cruise," he decided. "I’ll see a travel agent tomorrow."

Trixie smiled, suddenly very excited. She had suggested the cruise out of compassion, hoping to ease his obvious burden. But once she’d mentioned it, she’d realized how true her words were. This was going to be perfect.

"Come on, Trix," he was saying. Somehow he’d stood up and put on his coat without her noticing. "We have about five minutes until the appointment."

Wordlessly she picked up her purse and coat and followed him to the counter, still smiling serenely. "We should get a cabin on the outside of the ship," she told him. "With our own balcony. And a hot tub."

"Yes, dear," he sighed, holding the door open for her. "Anything else, dear?"

Trixie ignored his sarcasm and answered honestly. "Yes. And our own bar."

That got a laugh out of him. "Why? So you can fortify yourself for life with me? Or for the wild parties we’re going to throw with all the other cruising couples?"

Their meeting with Father Jones was short and to the point. He gave them a list of songs and bible readings to choose from, and they gave him their assurance that they would get back to him within two weeks. They were back to Crabapple Farm in time for tea, or would have been, had anyone at Crabapple Farm taken tea.

Mrs. Belden was in the kitchen, drinking coffee and grading papers.

"Hello, Trixie; hello, Dan. How was the meeting?"

"Oh, it was all right," Trixie said. "We’re just finalizing things now. I can’t believe how conveniently everything is working out. We get to use the church’s musicians, the church’s Social Hall, and even a florist and a caterer that are members there. Fr. Jones asked them for us. He really has a knack for planning weddings."

"Hmm." Mrs. Belden’s reply was unexpectedly short and curt. Trixie assumed it was because she wanted to get back to her papers, so she let her.

"We’ll get out of your hair in a second, Moms. I just want to run upstairs and get something."

Almost as soon as Trixie left the room, Mrs. Belden turned to Dan and asked him, "Dan, how old were you when your dad died?"

"Eleven."

"And did your mom date after that?"

Dan cleared his throat. "Well, she didn’t really get a chance. She was sick when he died, then she died a few years later. Is Bobby having a tough time?"

"Actually, no, he’s not." She looked as though the fact bewildered her. "But that’s beside the point. The reason I ask has to do with Mart. He seems to be in denial about all of this, almost like he doubts the wedding will ever take place. Oh, well. I guess he’ll find out when it does." She stood up, and he could see in her eye what he had coming. She put her arms around him and gave him a gentle hug. "By the way, I haven’t told you yet how happy I am to have you in the family."

"Yeah, family. Thank you, Mrs. Belden."

"That’s another thing." She leaned back. "You certainly don’t have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but I would love it if you would call me Moms."

If Dan had not already been prepared to marry Trixie, he would have agreed to right then, because she walked through the kitchen door and saved him from having to answer.

"Look at this," she said. "I leave the room for one minute and you two have your hands all over each other. What is Roger going to say?"

Mrs. Belden laughed, releasing Dan. "I was just welcoming him to the family."

"Yeah, family." Trixie shared an amused smile with Dan before giving her mother a hug. "We’ll see you later, Moms."

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

 

"Honey, something’s boiling over here." Brian looked nervously at the stove.

"Oh, okay. Will you turn down the heat and stir it a couple of times? Please," she added as an afterthought. "I’ll be done with this in a second," she informed him as she finished crimping the edges of her pie.

"Turn it down to what?" Brian was stirring the potatoes with care.

"Halfway between high and medium. And will you check on the muffins and make sure they’re not getting too brown?"

"They’re still kind of raw-looking." He closed the oven door and returned his attentions to the potatoes. "I think these might be done, though. Do you want me to mash them?"

"Um -" Honey cursed under her breath as her finger slipped and gouged a hole in the pie’s crust. "Yeah, that would be great, if you don’t mind. Just drain them in that colander, pour them in that bowl, and start mashing."

Brian set up shop beside Honey’s workstation. His attentions were undividedly potato-bound, but she began to feel very self-conscious about her shoddy pie crimping. She was also getting very hot and uncomfortable, but that was just the steam from the potatoes. Why did the kitchen have to be so small?! They were practically bumping into each other, the counter was so short. She quickly decided that nothing she could do to the pie would make it any better-looking, so she gave up and moved away to stick it in the oven.

"I can finish those now, if you want, Brian." She smoothed back her hair and basked in the more comfortable temperature over by the oven. "Oh, no!" she said as soon as she realized what she’d done. She’d still had flour on her hand when she’d run it through her hair.

Brian had turned to look at her when he’d heard her exclamation. "Don’t laugh," she warned him. He obeyed.

"I’ll finish the potatoes, unless you really want to. You can go, uh…"

"Brush my hair? I think I’ll take you up on that." She scooted out of the kitchen and into her bathroom.

"The timer for the muffins is going off," Brian called. "You want me to take them out?"

"No, I’ll be there in just a second!" Honey frantically pulled the pins out of her hair. All her time and effort fell down around her shoulders. She allowed herself one more curse before she returned to the kitchen.

Brian was finishing the potatoes as she took the muffins from the oven and removed them to a serving basket. Trixie and Dan arrived just as Honey placed the last dish on the table.

"Mmmm, that smells good, Honey," Trixie announced. "Hey, Brian." She took Dan’s coat and sent him to join Honey and Brian in the dining room.

"How was your meeting?" Honey asked. "Are we allowed to know yet what it was for?"

Dan took a seat across from Brian and reached for a muffin. "I’ll let Trixie tell you."

"Tell them what?" Trixie asked innocently, sitting in the last available seat. "Am I supposed to be telling someone something?"

"Let me guess." Brian looked thoughtful as he scooped out his own potatoes, then passed the bowl on to Honey. "You and Dan bought Jim’s land, and you’re going to build a camp for teenage troublemakers."

Trixie gasped. "How did you know?!" She turned to Dan, who held up his palms defensively, then back to her brother. "Well?"

Honey laughed. "I’m sorry, Trixie. We didn’t mean to spoil your surprise. Jim called me."

"Was he upset?" Dan asked, looking at Brian.

"Of course not," Honey replied, ignoring Brian’s shrug. "He was just keeping me informed."

"Well," Trixie went on after a few minutes, "what do you think? We’ll be breaking ground on the house this spring, and we’ll start out with, what, Dan, three cabins?"

Dan nodded, but his mouth was full of mutton. It had come straight from Uncle Andrew’s sheep farm and, boy, was it tasty. In fact, it tasted an awful lot like Uncle Andrew.

"You’ll be starting this spring?" Honey wanted to know. "So, it won’t be finished in time for the wedding?"

"No." Trixie paused for a drink. "We’ll stay in Mr. Maypenny’s cabin until the house is done. Dan’s going to do some work on it."

"Are you going to be moving out there soon, Dan?" Brian asked. "When’s your last day in New York?"

"My resignation takes effect April first, and I’m heading back to Sleepyside right after that. Just three more weeks, and I never have to think about this place again."

"But you’ll still be working, right?" Honey asked. "I mean, you’re still in the National Guard. And you’ve got that consulting job with the Sleepyside police department, or something." She frowned. "I never was real clear on what you’ll be doing."

Dan laughed. "Neither am I, Honey. All I know is, they’re paying me, and I get to keep carrying my gun. These potatoes are really good, by the way." Dan emphasized this with another large forkful.

"Yes, they are," Honey agreed, looking at Brian. "What did you put in them?"

Taken aback, Brian colored. "Just milk, butter, and salt," he said. "Oh, and a little sour cream."

"Well, they’re perfect," Honey told him. "And you said you couldn’t cook."

"What?" Trixie demanded. "Brian told you that? He’s a better cook than I am!"

Brian raised an eyebrow. "That’s not an especially hard challenge, Trix."

"Heh, heh, Brian," she retorted, pushing out her tongue to display her see food to him. "You just didn’t want Honey to find out and start asking you to pull your own weight around here."

Brian smiled good-naturedly, but he didn’t deny his sister’s supposition. The remainder of the meal was for the most part silent, peppered with the occasional request for something to be passed.

"Who’s ready for dessert?" Brian asked finally.

"I am," Dan said. "What is it?" He and Brian took their dishes into the kitchen, presumably to look into the dessert possibilities.

Trixie drained her drink and turned to Honey, who was picking at the remains of Uncle Andrew.

"That was great, Ho-’’

"Oh!" Honey exclaimed, jumping up so fast she knocked over her chair. "My pie!" She ran for the kitchen.

"Do they have any vanilla?" Dan was asking Brian, who was rooting around in the freezer. So far he’d found plenty of vegetables and a container of chocolate ice cream.

"Aha," he said, reaching into the back. "Here we go." He turned triumphantly, holding his prize high, when Honey suddenly barreled through the door. He probably could have maintained his control had the timer on the oven not chosen that precise time to scream its head off. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t handle that and Honey together. The ice cream fell to the floor, coming open in the process.

Dan’s strangled "no!" accompanied the plop.

Honey was too busy checking on her perfectly-done apple pie to pay much attention to the havoc she had wrought. Brian stared, dismayed, at the white puddle at his feet.

"Well, don’t just stand there, man," Dan told him. He grabbed the box and turned it upright. "Save what you can."

Brian tore off several paper towels and commenced to cleaning the mess. "Sorry, Dan. Is there any left?"

Honey, happily setting her pie on the counter, saw what they were doing. "What happened?" she asked.

Dan grunted something as he peered into the ice cream container in his hand. Brian glanced up. "I dropped the ice cream," he told her briefly.

Trixie came in carrying an armful of dirty dishes. "What happened?"

"The ice cream spilled," Honey explained as she rushed to help Trixie with her load.

"Oh. Was that the last of the vanilla?"

For reasons she couldn’t fathom, Brian shot her a venomous look, but he didn’t answer.

"There’s plenty left," Dan assured everyone, through with his inspection. "How long do we have to wait for the pie to cool, Honey?"

"Well, if you don’t mind the filling spilling out when you cut it, you can have a piece now," she replied, "but I was going to wait about 20 minutes." She proceeded to put the dishes in the sink, then headed out to the dining room for the rest.

Brian straightened up with his soggy mass of paper towels. "I suggest you put the ice cream back until then," he told Dan. "Do you guys have a mop, Trixie?"

"Oh, I’ll get that, Brian," she told him hastily. She took the used towels from him and threw them away. After running a dishtowel under the faucet, she made quick work of the remaining stickiness.

Brian, meanwhile, returned to the dining room to help Honey. "That was delicious, by the way," he told her.

"Thanks. I think we all agree that the potatoes were the best part, though." She smiled, letting him know she required no assurances to the contrary.

By the time they had the table cleared and the dishes in the dishwasher, Honey’s 20-minute time limit was up. They set up shop in the living room. The vanilla ice cream made a brief reappearance, thrilling the crowds one last time before being devoured along with the pie. Beautiful.

The foursome sat around for a while after the pie and coffee had disappeared, discussing the upcoming weddings. When the buzzer sounded, Dan, who happened to be passing it on his way back from the bathroom, answered.

"Hello," came Marco’s voice. "Is Madeleine home?"

"No, sorry. I’ll tell her you called." Dan closed the channel abruptly.

"Dan!" Honey was shocked.

"What? I don’t see any Madeleine here, do you guys? Brian?"

"Not me. Trix?"

Trixie shook her head.

By now Honey was laughing. She couldn’t really hold it against Dan, after all. Nobody wanted Marco up here. Too bad she couldn’t be sure he’d take offense and stop coming around.

Brian, lounging lazily in one of the fat armchairs, watched her interestedly. She noticed, but didn’t know what it meant. Dan rejoined Trixie on the loveseat. She herself was relaxing comfortably in the other chair.

"So, we decided on a honeymoon destination," Trixie announced. "A Caribbean cruise."

"Nice," Brian said with a nod. He blinked. That was about the extent of his reaction. After a second he returned to his disconcerting study of Honey.

Not knowing what to think, Honey tried to ignore it. "I’ve never been to the Caribbean," she remarked. "I hear it’s beautiful."

Dan nodded. The crickets chirped. Honey could have sworn she saw Brian smile about something, but she couldn’t be sure, since she had opted to not notice him.

"Anybody want to go see a movie?" Dan asked suddenly. "No one has to work tomorrow. Let’s go out."

 

The next morning, Sunday, Trixie and Honey sat in their living room with the entire newspaper spread out around them. Trixie was absorbed in perusing the local news, reading police reports and such, but Honey felt her own attention wandering away from the front page in her lap. She couldn’t stop thinking about last night. An idea was forming in her mind that she just couldn’t shake.

They had all decided on a movie to go see and had set out in a timely fashion. The theater was close enough that they’d decided to walk, and Honey had watched with increasing alarm and discomfort as Brian had walked closely beside her the entire way. He hadn’t talked much, except sometimes to exchange barbs with Dan.

They’d all sat together at the movie theater. Trixie and Dan had, of course, sat together, leaving her next to Brian. On the surface, it was all very normal. If someone had asked Honey what had been different about last night, she would have had to say nothing. But… Something was different.

If she didn’t know better, she would think --

"Are you waiting for this?" Trixie’s voice startled Honey out of her reverie. She looked over to see Trixie waving part of the paper at her.

"No," she assured her. "Do you want the front page?"

"No, thanks. I have to go get a shower. Dan’s picking me up in an hour for Mass."

Honey tidied up the newspaper and straightened cushions on the couch. She, too, would be going to church later, with Nana. Having already taken a shower, she set about fixing breakfast for herself and Trixie, using, in the process, that which had been last night’s mashed potato bowl.

‘I wonder what Brian is having for breakfast?’ she thought, fighting back the urge to call him and ask. ‘Probably gourmet Belgian waffles with orange marmalade,’ she speculated bitterly. Who knew he could cook?

 

Brian scooped the last bite of Lucky Charms into his mouth and then walked his bowl over to the sink. He carried a picture with him, studying it as he walked to the counter. When he had awakened that morning, a thought had occurred to him to pull out the picture, which Trixie had recently given him, hoping it might help him answer a few questions. It was a posed picture of all the BWG’s but Jim at the Junior-Senior Prom, Brian’s senior year.

Brian had had to laugh when he saw them all sitting there around the cheesily-decorated table, looking like no time had elapsed at all. There were Dan and Trixie, smiling lazy-eyed at the camera; Mart and Di with their too-perfect grins; and himself and Honey. Considering all the years in between this picture and the present, it was a little weird that two of the couples in the picture were together. Especially given that Trixie and Dan hadn’t dated at all in high school, and Mart and Di, until about eight months ago, had been engaged to other people.

His eyes came to rest on the last couple in the picture: him and Honey. An idea was forming in his mind that he just couldn’t shake. It had begun forming last night, but it had been incoherent and vague. He had been happy last night, happier than he’d been in a long time. This morning he found himself smiling again, studying this scene. He wondered what Honey was doing this morning. So he called her.

"Hey, Brian!" Trixie greeted him cheerfully. "How’s it hanging?"

"Hi, Trix. I’m fine," he answered her rather gauche question. "Is Honey there?"

"Sure, just a second. Honey!" She made no effort to cover the mouthpiece. "Phone!"

"Hello?" came Honey’s tentative voice. She seemed to fear speaking to whomever she thought was calling.

"Hi, Honey. This is Brian," he told her, cradling the phone on his shoulder as he cleaned up the last of his breakfast mess. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I’m great. How are you?"

He straightened up and put the phone back where it belonged, in his hand, and smiled slightly. Honey’s relief at hearing his voice on the phone, instead of someone else’s, was accompanied by an almost equal amount of nervousness at hearing his voice. Excellent.

"I’m fine. I was just wondering what you’re doing this morning."

"I’m getting ready to go to church with Nana. She’ll be here in about an hour. What are you doing?" Her voice was sounding bolder by the syllable. Then she laughed. "Would you like to go with us?"

Pleasantly surprised, Brian agreed quickly. "Sure. I’ll just meet you there. Is it that church down on Fourth?"

"Uh-huh. The service starts at 11:00. I guess I’ll see you in a little while, then."
"Maybe we can have lunch afterwards," he suggested. "If your grandmother doesn’t mind."

He could have sworn he heard an intake of breath, not quite a gasp, from Honey. "Okay, that sounds great," she told him. "See you then."

"Yep. Bye." He hung up and headed for the shower.

Honey hung up the phone and exhaled. Well. The idea was fully formed now, and being joined by whole new ideas. Well, well.

"You and Brian going out?" Trixie asked casually. She was standing in the doorway of Honey’s bedroom, putting her coat on.

"He’s going to come to church with me and Nana. Are you about to leave?" Honey spoke to her with no trace of a smile, but Trixie responded with a huge grin.

"Yeah, Dan’s down in the lobby. I’m heading down now." She smiled again. "Well, have fun. At church. With your Nana." She exited with a wave.

Honey waited until she heard the front door close, then she flew to the bathroom for a very long and involved makeup session.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"Hey, Trix," Honey said, pulling on a jacket, "I’m going over to Brian’s. Is Dan coming over tonight?"

"No, he’s got Guard duty this weekend. Brian’s again, huh?" she asked with a smile. "What’s this, the third time this week?"

Honey refused to smile back, although the corners of her mouth did go up the slightest bit. "No, I haven’t been over there yet, as a matter of fact. This is just the third time this week that we’ve gone out."

"Have you kissed him yet?"

"Well, if I had, I wouldn’t tell you," Honey assured her. "I wouldn’t want Dan to know, after all." She tossed her head and turned her back on her laughing friend.

"Fine. Dan and I will just speculate, then." She remembered something and looked up quickly from her typing. "Oh, hey, any idea what time you’ll be back?" she asked.

Honey turned at the door. "Not very late. Brian’s working tomorrow. Why?"

"If you’re not too tired, could you stop on the way home and get some milk? If you can’t, that’s okay, I’ll get some in the morning. I just don’t want to go anywhere tonight - I’m gonna work on ‘The Mysterious Poacher.’"

"Wow, you’re already on number five?" Honey was impressed. She didn’t know where Trixie found the time. "Yeah, I’ll get milk. Anything else?"

Trixie shook her head and went back to her computer. "Have fun. Tell Brian I said hi."

Honey left in high spirits. It was the first Friday night of Spring Break, and she didn’t have to think about work for seven beautiful days. The temperature was perfect, still close to seventy degrees even at this hour. And Brian was waiting for her.

She managed to catch a cab practically the minute she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Settling back in her seat, she smiled as she thought about the past couple of weeks. Beginning with lunch on that first beautiful Sunday, she’d either seen or talked to Brian every day.

The highlight for her had been yesterday, when he’d surprised her at school during his afternoon break. He’d shown up right as she was dismissing the class, and the kids had all been very impressed by his scrubs. Of course, they’d referred to them as ‘doctor pants.’ Honey wondered if he knew how much she had loved showing him off to her coworkers.

"Here we are," the cabbie told her. He named his price and waited while she fished out her money. "That yer fella?" he asked, inclining his head toward the front of the apartment building.

Honey looked up, surprised. "Yes, it is. Thank you very much," she added, handing over a couple of bills. "Have a great night."

He watched patiently as she stepped out. "You, too," he told her with a friendly wave.

"Hi, Brian." Honey smiled shyly up at him. "Were you waiting here long?"

Brian took her arm and led her toward the doors. "No way," he teased, "I forgot you were coming tonight. I was just on my way out."

"So what’s for dinner?" she asked as they stepped into his apartment. She looked around with much interest.

"Chicken parmesan. Isn’t that your favorite?" He already knew the answer, so he didn’t ask with any worry. He took her jacket and walked the few steps over to his bedroom, where he tossed said jacket on the bed. "It should be ready in about ten minutes. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Honey was absorbed in trying to casually take in every detail of his home. "No, I’m fine. You’ve got a great kitchen," she told him sincerely, heading in that direction. "It looks so usable."

"Well, it comes in handy for eating, I know that," he laughed. He meandered over her way, trying to see everything from her viewpoint. Not much to see, he decided quickly. He was glad he’d cleaned up.

"How was your day?" he asked her. "I bet it was nice locking the classroom this afternoon."

"It felt almost as good as the first day of summer vacation did when we were kids," she agreed with a carefree grin. "I can’t wait to sleep in tomorrow."

"We should do something this week," he said as he moved toward the oven. He looked in to check on his creations, and came away with a foil-wrapped package that proved to be bread. "I’m off Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday."

"You are?" Honey was immeasurably pleased. "I didn’t know that." She watched as he began slicing the bread.

"Well, I am now," he amended. "I traded my days off next week. Where would you like to go?"

Honey considered her options carefully. She could suggest going home, to Sleepyside, or maybe taking a couple of short day-trips, to places like the zoo and Statue of Liberty. Or she could really bite the bullet.

"We could go up to Niagara Falls," she said, with just the right amount of innocent excitement. "That would be fun."

Brian had not expected that one. He’d figured day trips or Sleepyside. He considered her response as he removed the main dish from the oven. Did she mean they should stay overnight there? Obviously, if she did, it would be in separate rooms. There was no question about that. Still, the subject had to be broached.

"If you want to grab some plates," he indicated a cupboard, "we can eat." Once Honey had their places set, he returned to their discussion.

"I’ve only been to Niagara Falls once, a long time ago," he told her. "I don’t even think Bobby was born yet." He paused to fill her plate with chicken and pasta, then returned it to her. "I think it’s about a seven -hour drive from here."

"I could make some reservations tomorrow," she offered. "Do you think Trixie and Dan would want to go?" Her movements were oh-so-casual as she took bites of her food and sips of her drink, but her stomach wobbled, even if her hand didn’t.

"Hey, yeah," he said, "Isn’t Tuesday Dan’s last day? I bet he’d love a vacation before settling down to jobless bliss."

Honey responded with the requisite half-scolding, half-amused look. "I’ll ask Trixie. If they don’t," she did some major bullet-biting, "do you still want to go?"

"Yeah, that sounds like fun." His movements appeared so naturally casual, Honey didn’t know whether she should be impressed with his control or worried by his lack of enthusiasm.

"This is done just right," she complimented him on the meal. "Is it your mom’s recipe?"

Brian grinned suddenly, and told her in complete honesty, "Actually, it’s Mart’s. I’ll tell him you liked it."

Honey shook her head, laughing. "You Belden boys are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

After dinner, Brian proposed that they take a walk, and Honey readily agreed. They walked slowly, discussing the events of the day and enjoying each other’s company. Honey’s hand found its way into Brian’s and she sighed in contentment. She’d missed the nervous little twitter of excitement she’d felt back in high school - the twitter that comes with having your affections undeniably reciprocated - and it was now back in full force. She wasn’t about to question its sudden resurfacing.

"Why’d we stop seeing each other, Honey?" Brian sounded very curious, as if he’d pondered this for a good long time. "I don’t remember what happened after high school."

"Well," Honey answered carefully, "you were very busy with college. You didn’t come home much. And then you went to medical school." She looked up at him. "But I don’t know," she told him honestly. "I figured you just lost interest."

Brian was staring thoughtfully ahead, frowning in concentration. He squeezed her hand absentmindedly. "No," he said slowly. "I still called you while I was at Duke. And we wrote letters." Now he looked at her, semi-accusingly. "You were the one who stopped writing."

"Only because you never responded! I still sent you Christmas cards, anyway."

Brian laughed without malice. "Admit it, Honey. You gave me the shaft."

"Brian! How can you say that?" Honey demanded. "That’s not what happened at all." She looked so angry as she stared straight ahead, increasing their rate of speed exponentially, that Brian’s amusement disappeared entirely.

He was confused. "I’m sorry, Honey," he tried. "What’s the matter?" He pulled her to a stop.

Honey took a deep breath and met his eyes. "Nothing’s the matter," she sighed. "I just wish you wouldn’t say things like that."

"Like what? I don’t get it."

"Do you honestly think I stopped caring about you?"

"Of course not. I didn’t mean that." He wondered why she still seemed so upset. "You’ve always been a very good friend. But you did used to be…" he shook his head, not knowing how to finish.

"More?" Honey asked. "We used to be more than friends?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"Brian," she said quietly. "I’ve always been more than just your friend. If you couldn’t see that, it was because you felt different." Her words, despite what they admitted, sounded harsh, even to her. She added hesitantly, "Ever since your dad died, you’ve been different."

Brian resumed walking, but slowly enough that Honey had time to prepare. She turned with him, moving a little closer. She put her free hand on his upper arm and tried to convey her apology for bringing up the painful subject.

"I’ve just been busy," he said after a while, but without much conviction. "I didn’t have time for the kinds of things I had time for before."

"And I was one of those ‘things.’" Honey smiled gently. "It’s okay, Brian. I’ve been busy, too. I probably wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on finishing school if I’d had…distractions." She laughed at his wry smile.

"So that’s all I am to you, huh? A distraction?" he teased.

"That’s all," she scoffed. "Do you know how hard it is to get things done when you can’t stop thinking about something else? My class has spent the better part of this month drawing pictures."

Embarrassed, Brian didn’t know how to respond. It seemed presumptuous to apologize. "Are you cold?" he asked, feeling a sudden wind. "Let’s go back."

Honey considered everything she’d said, and all of his responses. She might not have gotten the kind of enthusiasm she would have wished for, but she didn’t regret laying it all out on the table for him. His deep concentration told her he was thinking about what she’d told him.

When they made it back to his building, she checked her watch and told him regretfully that she’d better go home.

"You’ve got to work early," she reminded him.

"It’s not that late. I don’t have to get up until five." He held both her hands in his, trying to convince her to come back inside.

Honey smiled, knowing that it would do him good to stew in his own juices for a while. "Well, I’ve got to get to bed, then. I have to get up early and sleep in."

"All right," Brian conceded with a laugh. "But I’m driving you."

She followed him across the street and took the giant step up into his truck. "I love this thing," she told him happily.

"My truck?" He looked at her in amusement. "Trixie hates it."

"I know. But I love how big it is. It makes me feel powerful." She said it like it was a guilty admission.

"Well, you know that’s why I bought it, right? So you could feel powerful."

"How sweet. You always knew how to make me happy."

"You know, Honey," he said a few minutes later. They were stopped at a red light, and he’d decided to put all joking aside. "I’ve always tried to make you happy. Even when I thought you wanted to just be my friend."

The light changed, so he missed the expression on her face as it dawned on her what he was saying.

"I know," she said. "And you always have." She felt like they were going over and over the same ground, but she hesitated to take a bigger step. "I’ve always considered you one of my best friends."

Brian smirked a little as he pulled into a parking space outside her building. "One of your six best friends, right?"

Tired of beating around the bush, she seized his hand and told him seriously, "I mean it, Brian. I love you; you know that, right?"

"Sure. I know." He leaned toward her and kissed her gently on the mouth. "You’re a great friend, Honey." He opened his door and stepped out.

Honey closed her eyes briefly. "I mean, I love you, Brian." When she heard no sound from him, she fearfully sought his gaze. No going back now.

Brian got back in and shut the door. The resulting darkness made everything a little easier. She couldn’t see his face, but she allowed him to pull her closer.

"Honey," he began.

His tone of voice made her sure he was going to tell her he was flattered, but…

"Do you mean that?" His tone had definitely changed. He sounded hopeful.

Honey tried to speak, but her throat wouldn’t work for her. She nodded finally, hoping he could see her in the dark.

Apparently he could. His reciprocal declaration wasn’t verbal, but she got the point. After a minute, she giggled into his mouth and he pulled back.

"What?" he asked with a laugh.

"Nothing. I was just thinking we probably look like a couple of teenagers, making out in the car."

"We never made out in the car when we were teenagers," he reminded her.

 

‘More’s the pity,’ Honey thought to herself as they resumed their…activity.

Trixie was just thinking about getting up and heading for bed. She’d been working steadily for about four hours, and her neck was definitely feeling it. She reached up and massaged it gently, thinking about the next chapter in her book. When she heard Honey’s key in the lock, she saved what she had and turned off the computer. She was waiting expectantly when Honey finally came into view.

The only way to describe the way Honey walked into the room was with the word ‘float.’ She undeniably floated.

"You kissed him!" Trixie guessed, jumping up.

Honey looked startled. A hand flew to her chest and she blinked at Trixie’s sudden appearance in front of her. "Don’t do that!"

"Sorry, sorry. Did you kiss him?"

Honey smiled.

"You did!" Trixie threw her arms around Honey.

Honey pushed her away, laughing. "What are you so excited about? It was just a kiss." She turned her back and headed into the kitchen. "I’m going to make some tea. You want some?" she asked over her shoulder.

Trixie followed her in, pleading with her eyes for more detail. "Puh-leeze," she begged as Honey studiously ignored her.

She filled the teapot, set it on the stove, turned on the burner, and, finally, faced Trixie. "This was not our first kiss, you know," she said haughtily.

Trixie dismissed this statement with a wave. "I’m not talking about friendly cheek-pecks, and you know it. Did he drive you home?"

"Yes."

"Good. You sat in the car for a while?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

Honey turned away. "No comment."

"Honey!"

Sighing, Honey faced her again. "What time is it now?" she asked in a long-suffering tone.

Trixie checked her watch. "Midnight."

"Midnight!" Honey grabbed Trixie’s wrist and looked for herself. "Midnight!?? That can’t be right!" She ran out into the living room to check the grandfather clock, and came back dazed. "We left his apartment at 10:30."

"Must have been some heavy traffic," Trixie remarked casually. "It usually only takes about 10 minutes to get from there to here."

The teapot whistled and Honey poured her water distractedly. "Brian’s not going to get any sleep," she lamented guiltily. She sighed and reached into the refrigerator, then stopped and slapped a hand to her forehead. "And I forgot the milk!"

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