James James
Morrison's mother
Hasn't been heard of since.
King John
Said he was sorry,
So did the Queen and Prince.
King John
(Somebody told me)
Said to a man he knew;
"If people go down
To the end of town,
Well what can anyone do?"


Chapter 15

"Ta-da!" Honey sang as she opened the door with a grand gesture. "It's been waiting for you for four long years, Trixie Belden"

Trixie, her purse slung over her shoulder, her arms rather awkwardly cradling a cardboard box, stepped into her new office. A flood of sunlight from a real live window gave it a rather mystical glow. Feeling like she was moving in a dream, she walked in slowly, her heels making no noise on the carpet. The desk, businesslike rather than opulent, was clear; the file cabinets empty, what would they hold at this time next year?

Honey set her own box down on the desk and her smiling face glowed. "Oh Trixie, I must admit, I had doubts this day would ever come, but it was worth the wait, wasn't it?"

Trixie heard just the tiniest touch of doubt in Honey's simple question. Maybe Honey had picked up on her mixed feelings about the partnership. In a way, she longed to pour out her concerns to Honey, but she told herself firmly, that was between her and Jim. The delicacy of being married to her best friend's brother was only now becoming evident to Trixie. And delicacy was not Trixie's strong point.

It didn't matter though. She and Jim could work things out. Simple matters like him being rich and her being poor. Simple matters like him making decisions about her career and their life together without consulting her! She laughed shortly. Oh yes, they would work it out.

Honey had stopped chattering about how nice it is to have a window and looked at her more closely. She opened her mouth, closed it again and then started sorting through her box. "I thought we could go over the cases and divvy them up. It will be so nice to have someone to share the big decisions. I felt like I was drowning sometimes."

See, no matter how it happened, Honey does need me, Trixe told herself. She knew in her heart it was true. But the thought of Jim buying her partnership.... Her fist closed over a Cross pen like it was a spear. Well, they would just have to talk, that's all.

If there was one thing the tragedy with Jason showed her, it was to keep talking. And she certainly had a lot to say to a certain handsome but high handed fiance. Then she laughed with real mirth. She, Trixie Belden had a fiance to get mad at! What was the world coming to?

"Trixie? Hellooooo, earth to Trixie!" Trixie looked up from her engagement ring to Honey's knowing smile and felt herself redden.

"Don't blush, Trixie, I remember back when Brian and I first got engaged, I was on cloud nine 24/7." Trixie was amused at Honey's experienced air, and pushed her pending discussion (argument) with Jim from her mind. No matter what the cause, she knew in her heart she was finally where she belonged and she would sort the rest out later.

"OK, OK, partner, you've had your fun! Maybe Jim and I should elope and then we'll be the old married couple next month when you and Brian have the big grand wedding

Trixie started unloading her box. It was all her personal stuff, her files would be brought up later. But she wanted to have her photographs and other sentimental odds and ends with her in this strangely bare room. The girls were silent a moment as Trixie pulled out the framed picture of Jim, another of Moms and Dad, and a hilarious candid shot of Mart, Brian and Bob washing Mart's pride and joy (a new Lexus) and an old fashioned locket on a faded ribbon....

"It's like a dream come true, isn't it Trixie," Honey said softly. "I'm almost afraid something will come along and spoil it."

There was a note of real fear in her voice and Trixie felt cold for a moment, as she pulled out the skates Bob had given her. For a moment she shivered, then rallied, "Now you're being silly, Honey Wheeler, let's concentrate on the job at hand. Nothing's going to happen to ruin anything!"

"Belden Wheeler Detective Agency! Coool!" At the familiar, loud, and totally unexpected voice, Trixie and Honey turned and chorused, "Bobby!"

"Don't call him Bobby, or we'll hear about all afternoon," begged Mart Belden, standing next to his taller brother, grinning at their surprise.

"You're back from Canada!"

"When did you get here?"

"Wait till you hear this!"

There was a confused babble for a few minutes as four young people talked all at once. Trixie, laughing but a little confused by the sudden appearance of her two brothers, put her fingers in her mouth and blew a sharp piercing whistle.

Mart covered his ears a moment too late. "I'm so sorry I taught you how to do that," he growled.

"It was me who taught you, dear Twin," Trixie corrected him sweetly, if not completely accurately.

"Well, whoever taught whom, it's a nasty sound," laughed Honey. "I much prefer the Bob White whistle. "I suppose you brought Bob here to see Trixie's new office! Come in and enjoy it!"

"Yes, enjoy it while it's still clean!" Trixie was laughing too, but she was so glad to see her little brother she gave him a quick hug. He returned it but looked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, well Trixie, this is so cool and all, but there's another reason...."

Mart perched on the desk uninvited and called out, "Come on in, Mr. Smith, Bob and I are lunatics, but Trix and Honey are the pros. They'll help you out!"

Trix exchanged a perplexed look with Honey, who looked mystified. A man stepped in, pausing at the doorway. "Now, now," he scolded Mart mildly, "I told you Bob has been a great help to me, and a good friend to Tempest."

Trixie suspected her eyes were popping out of her head at the sudden appearance of Tempest Smith's father. She hastily rearranged her features as befitting a full partner in the Belden Wheeler Detective agency. She had only met the man once, at the Wheeler Christmas party last year; his resemblance to his famous son was uncanny. She remembered her worry a few days ago about Tempest and came forward eagerly to shake his hand. "Mr. Smith," she exclaimed, "Wow, it's great to see you again! Welcome to New York! How is Tempest, is he here with you?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Honey's face. It looked as though it had been carved from stone. Astonished, Trixie did a double take and wound up tripping over her own feet. Mr. Smith steadied her and politely shook her hand. She felt an enormous, fiery blush rising up from her neck to her hairline, but he spoke kindly, "It's a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Belden, and you too, Ms. Wheeler. I told Bob I would make an appointment, but he insisted... I am sorry for bursting in on you like this."

The appearance of Tempest's father was so unexpected and Honey's strange reaction so unnerving, Trixie was speechless but Bob's gregariousness filled in the uncomfortable moment easily.

"Well, Tempest is OK, I mean, he's still not feeling all that great, but he's better than he was, see, the problem really isn't him, well it is a little, but he won't let us do anything for him, you know? Anyway the problem is MRS. Smith, we don't know where she went! It might be OK, but when Bill, I mean Mr. Smith, and me talked it over, we thought maybe it would be a good idea to look into it, just in case, you know and Bill remembered what a great job you guys, well, ahem, and me too, did last year at Skate Connection that he thought he would retain the Wheeler Detective Agency. Only now it's the Belden Wheeler Detective agency and that is so cool!"

There was a stunned silence when Bob's animated voice finally stopped.

Trixie, afraid to look at Honey again, tried to take charge. "Mr. Smith, we're glad to have you here. I take it from Bob's monologue that you have a job for us, but I'm not quite sure...Um, Mart, Bob, maybe you guys should go get some coffee or something."

"I appreciate your tact, Ms. Belden" Mr. Smith's smile was a little strained, but he sounded firm as he added, "I don't mind the young men being here. But I can make an appointment and come back at a time that is convenient for you. Both of you." His blue eyes flickered to Honey and then back to Trixie.

Honey seemed to recover herself, at least to an extent, her words were kind but her voice was oddly metallic. "Mr. Smith, we have time right now, won't you sit down? Would you like some coffee?"

It took some doing in the close quarters, but eventually they were seated and Bill, as he insisted they all call him, explained that he'd come to New York on impulse. "Bob and I were talking, and there was a stand by seat available, well, I guess I am getting impulsive in my old age," His laugh had a sad tone to it.

Honey let Trixie take the lead, while she contented herself with taking notes. Trixie concentrated on the facts Bill was giving her about the way Tiffany Crystal Smith-Lovelace had disappeared so suddenly. She was surprised, but pleased that Bob was able to restrain his exuberance and only commented with Bill asked him to explain or clarify a point. She was not sure if she was relieved or not by Bill's description of Tempest's injuries, it was pretty clear, he was a worried father as well as husband. Ex-husband.

Bill finished by saying, "Annie is a free spirit, she really does come and go, but this, this, just feels different somehow. I'd just feel better if you could find out where she went and if she's OK."

"Many of our missing persons cases turn out to be just misunderstandings," Honey said, having normalized her complexion and achieved her soothing demeanor. "We'll have one of our best operatives get on the case right away. Where can he reach you?

Bob burst out, "Stay with us at Crabapple Farm! We've got lots of room!"

"Who's staying at Crabapple Farm?" It was a new voice, Brian's. He and Jim entered the office without ceremony. They each had bouquets of tulips, Brian passed his to Honey with a brief kiss, Jim handed his to Trixie. He looked uneasy under what she hoped was a measuring stare, but she accepted the flowers with genuine pleasure

"This office is beginning to look like the cabin in A Night at the Opera," Mart mentioned dryly and Bill Smith laughed.

"Sorry for the crowd, Mr. Smith, do you remember my brother Brian? And this is my, my fiance, Jim Frayne." Trixie said wondering when she would stop stumbling over the word fiance.

There were handshakes and polite greetings but Trixie noticed immediately a flare of temper in Jim's eyes. Why was HE mad, she was the one who should be mad! Oh this was getting confusing. Brian was joining Bob in urging Bill to stay at Crabapple Farm, but he refused politely. There was a distinct easing of tension from Honey, Jim and from Mart too, oddly enough.

"No thanks, I've got a place here in the city tonight, and I'll call back you with the phone number, Ms. Wheeler. I'm going there now, and I need to call Tempest too, let him know where I am. Nice to meet you all." He turned to Bob, "Bob, I really enjoyed your visit, I hope you come again where you won't have to be 'on the job.' so much. Thanks for everything."

Bob, who was not immune to blushing, muttered something, shook hands, and Mr. Smith, having refused an escort to the elevator said a general good bye.

Why was the room so filled with tension, Trixie wondered. Honey was avoiding her eyes, as well she should. Why on earth was she going to assign "one of their best operators" to the case when the obvious person to do the job was Trixie? Even if she wasn't happy with the way it happened, Trixie was a partner now and Honey didn't need to continue to be The Boss. She glanced at Jim, who looked thunderous. Mart looked pensive, Brian looked troubled. What the heck was going on, anyway?

It was left to Bob to break the silence. "This is awesome! I kind of feel like one of the Bob Whites! If only Di and Dan were here we'd have all the Bob Whites here. I kind of wish Di had come back with me instead of going to California with Tempest. But Tempest really needed her."

 His remark didn't break the silence, after all; it shattered it.


 Chapter 16

Diana Lynch threw some money onto the table and almost ran out of the dining room. Her rage carried her up the stairs and into her room.  Mumbling under her breath about arrogance and conceit, she slipped her key into the lock and was even angrier when she practically dislocated her shoulder trying to slam it. She kicked it instead.

As the door shuddered, she wondered what to do next. She could leave Tempest stranded here, that would serve him right. That way, no one would think he was "shacking up" with a hack photographer whose work was suitable only for the  National Inquirer. She hadn't unpacked before dinner, she could just pick up and go right now. She would check out, right this minute! Her suitcase in one hand, she was reaching for the door with the other, when the knock came. It was so unexpected, she jumped and emitted an odd squeak. Then, stealthily, she set down her bag and looked through the peephole in the door. It was Tempest, of course, and the one inch of his face that she could see looked mad. She did not suppose he was coming to apologize.

He knocked again and she jumped again.

"Di-ANA, open the door!" Hardly an apology.

She saw him look up and down the hall, then he knocked again, "Open the door, you little coward!" He was whispering (fiercely), but she heard contempt in his last word. She almost shook with fury. She was the wounded party not him! She clenched her teeth together and screamed silently, "Go AWAY!" Much to her surprise, he did.

Good. Now she could leave. He wouldn't be stranded long, he probably had more money that she did. She would be protecting him from the tabloids. Like any tabloid cared about some stupid ice skater. Paranoid, conceited...

But she stood for by the door for a long time in her room, her suitcase on the floor by her side.

After almost a half hour, Di gently put her suitcase on her bed, picked up her key and stepped quietly out into the hall. She walked without hesitation to Tempest's door and knocked even more quietly than he had. Her knock, soft as it was, pushed the door open.

"Tempest?" Her voice sounded nervous as she looked in. He wasn’t there, probably ran down the hall for ice or something. Well, she would wait for him. He was arrogant and conceited, but he was right about one thing. It had been cowardly for her to embarrass him in public and not give him a chance to respond. Funny how he  hit her weak spot, she had never really been brave, especially compared to... But that was in the past. So here she was and he could go ahead and insult her more. She would take her lumps. And hopefully give out a few as well.

His room wasn't as nice as hers, no hot tub, she noticed irrelevantly. Instead there was a little alcove near the fireplace, with a small table for two. She sat in one of the white wicker chairs, trying to decide what to say to him. She certainly would not be apologetic, he'd got what he deserved. His just desserts in fact, she giggled nervously.

He had only left a light on by the door and the shadows in the room made her feel the way she did sometimes, during  a wakeful night. Dignified, that's how she would act, the picture of outraged womanhood.  Make him feel bad for thinking she wanted to, to.... she felt a new surge of anger mixed equally with nervousness. She just wanted to get this over with. It sure was taking him a long time to get ice, of course but that was to be expected, with his bad knee.

She looked around the dark room and saw that he had dumped his clothes in the trash. That was ridiculous, there's no way those clothes couldn't be cleaned up, she was thinking indignantly when the door finally opened.

Because of the shadows it took Di a confused minute to realize it was not the door to his room opening, but the bathroom door. Tempest half limped, half hopped out, a small cloud of steam hung around him briefly before it dissipated.  She froze. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and she was afraid to look lower.

She let her breath out slowly as he kept his back was to her. As he pulled something from the small refrigerator on the counter, the  light above him illuminated his body almost as if for a photo shoot. Di thought rather dreamily that he was clearly an athlete. He could be a model if he were taller, his body was perfectly proportioned, muscular, not an ounce of fat. Her eyes approved his shoulders and trim waist and moved lower. He was wearing shorts... she came to her senses, Thank God he was wearing shorts!

Di put her hands over her mouth. She  was, she was, ogling Tempest! And he didn't even know she was there, she was a peeping Tom. Well, not a peeping TOM, exactly, but a peeping something! She felt her cheeks flame and wished she were dead. When he turned and saw her, she would die -  hopefully.

He didn't turn. Propping his leg up on the counter outside the bathroom, he started winding a bandage and ice pack around his knee. Even in the darkness, she could see the knee swollen and bruised was, and she could see traces of bruises on his back as well.

She tried to remember her plan to be dignified. She should say something. Something rational. But soothing. Something like "I came for the apology and stayed for the view." She moaned silently. If that was the best she could come up with it, was a good thing her throat felt paralyzed.

He finished his doctoring and she drew in her breath. He would turn around and see her. Oh Heavens, maybe he would think she had her camera. But as he turned, he put down his leg too quickly. He let out a not so soft groan and then pounded his fists on the counter and cursed fluently. With a gesture of angry despair, he threw his duck cane into the bathroom and Di heard a muffled quack. Tempest stood balanced on one foot for a long moment, head bowed, hands over his eyes. Finally he rubbed his temples, straightened his (magnificent) shoulders and limped painfully back into the bathroom, presumably to fetch his cane

Praying that he would stay in there for a few minutes, Di nipped across the room and into the brightly lit hall. There was no exclamation, no sound of pursuit and she reached the refuge of her room feeling as though she'd run a marathon. Too many thoughts and images were running through her mind, she couldn't deal with it. She pressed her hand against her forehead as if to push them out but stopped abruptly, at the memory of Tempest making the same gesture.

She shuddered. It was cold in her room. She turned on the gas fireplace before getting fully dressed under the covers. I need sleep, she told herself and forced her mind to empty as she concentrated on the neat flames in the gas fireplace. Exhausted by not thinking, she finally fell into a heavy sleep.

The next morning, they met in the lobby. He looked as wary as she felt. She muttered an apology for dumping food on him and he apologized for his accusation.  By silent but mutual, consent they skipped breakfast in the dining room. When the car was ready, Di, carried their bags while Tempest followed with coffee, tea and a bag of bagels, cream cheese and apples. They ate on the road, with no comments beyond, "Would you like an apple?" or "Could you please hand me a napkin?"

The silence was stretched for miles. She focused on her driving, while he seemed absorbed by the scenery. She thought he was dropping off for a moment, but he jerked himself awake and moved his knee as if he wanted it to hurt. She started to say same something sympathetic, but her words caught in her throat as she remember the light shining on his shoulders last night, his hands clenched in fists on the counter.

After a few extremely uncomfortable hours, they stopped for gas and a snack, passing the restaurant without comment, and heading directly for the mini mart. Di found some Korn Nuts, which Trent had hated. He hated even the smell of them, but who cared what he thought? Oddly enough, it was almost a relief to think of him. She looked for a long time at the magazine display. She probably still had some photos in Glamour, she couldn't remember for sure which issue they were supposed to come out in. Would she ever even feel like going back to fashion photography? It was entirely possible she couldn’t go back, Trent had been her boss as well as her fiance, if he felt like it, he could turn the industry against her.

She fought a feeling of panic.  Right now, what she needed was a cold drink. She helped herself to an empty "Big Swig" cup and moved to the self serve soda fountain, only to find Tempest blocking the way.

He had his crutches (what happened to his cane?) propped against his body and like last night he was balancing on one foot. He couldn't quite reach the cup he wanted and was hopping a little closer. One crutch fell toward her and she caught it while the other poked him in the ribs. She giggled at the little "ooof" sound he made.

He turned toward her with no friendliness in his eyes and she sobered quickly."Let me do it!" she said concealing a flicker of concern at the dark circles under his eyes. She tried to take the cup from him, but he pulled it away."You're going to fall," she warned him.

"I am not going to fall, Di-ANA, I have great balance!" he shot back, “It’s my job, remember?

He had a point, but she ignored it and grabbed for the cup. He held it over his head and she actually jumped for it once, before realizing they were acting like eight year olds.

 "I can do it just fine, thank you," he insisted.

"Look, just let me do it, you're blocking the aisle." It was true, they were standing almost nose to nose, but they were the only two customers in the store.

He told her as much and added provocatively, "Besides, you won't do it right."

That was it, it wasn’t funny any more. She took a deep breath, swelling her curvy figure and said in an intense whisper, "Look, Trent, I know you think I can't do anything right, but I can just barely manage fill a cup with ice, ok?"

She must have looked as ferocious as she felt because he looked stunned and handed her the huge cup, muttering, "Whoa, deja vu all over again."

She pressed the big red cup against the lever of the ice machine and as the ice clunked down, she snapped over her shoulder, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"That's the second time a beautiful woman has called me by another guy's name."  

What on earth was he talking about now? His cup was only half full of ice, but she stopped and turned on him. "I didn't call you by the wrong name!" she informed him.

"Yes you did, you just called me 'Trent'. I know my name is a little weird, but it's not as bad as 'Trent'. Trent, Trent... rhymes with... 'get bent,'" He was trying to make her laugh, but she had never felt less like laughing

"I called you Trent? Oh my god...." What was happening to her?

"Di, um, Diana," he was stammering, "It's ok, except that I guess it's not much of a compliment. I mean, if the guy thinks you can't do anything right, he is obviously an idiot, so I am not thrilled to be taken for him."

She tried to smile and said, "Oh, I'm sorry," and handed him his cup.

He looked at it and then at her. "Um, look, um, Ana, could you put a little more ice in? Please?" he asked.

She started at his voice. "What? Oh, sure, T-Tempest." She cursed herself for stumbling over his name again and pressed the cup against the lever. "How's that?"

"Little more."  He was smiling now.

A few more icy shards dropped in the cup. She smiled faintly. "How's that?"

"Liiiiiiittle more," he drew it out, laughing a little, clearly at himself himself. 

She looked up at his laughing eyes, lifted her chin, pushed up the sleeves of her rather shapeless black sweater with exagerrated force, and held the cup against the lever till ice spilled out the top and he yelled, "Perfect!"

"OK, sure, that makes sense, a guy who spends his life on the ice, just can't get enough of it,” she grumbled.

Hey I just like a little Diet Coke with my ice, that's all," he joked feebly.

"Yeah, I guess that really broke the ice, didn't it?" She knew her humor was a little ponderous, but he laughed just the same. He wasn’t anything like Trent, Trent's idea of humor was much more cruel.

They resumed their journey, still quiet, for the most part, but far more comfortable. He offered to drive and she refused, clearly to his relief. She turned the radio on and found an oldies station.

When California Dreamin' played, he sang along softly, then turned red, till she joined in.

"All the leaves are brown
and the sky is gray.
I've been for a walk,
On a winters day.
If I didn't tell her,
I could leave today...."

It had taken more than 24 hours and close to four hundred miles, but she finally felt comfortable with TC’s son.

"We'll be there soon." Di-ANA, rolled her shoulders slightly as she turned the Rambler onto a narrow winding road. Ranch style houses were set back behind rose gardens, or immaculate lawns.  She finally pulled up in front of the weatherbeaten lighthouse. It stood tall, aloof from the houses, the last dwelling on an old cul de sac.

While she was still stretching Tempest got out, staring at the lighthouse. “Wow!” she heard him exclaim. She grabbed his crutches, only to see he was leaning on the ridiculous cane again.

“I wish you'd make up your mind," Di grumbled behind him. holding his crutches. "Every time you get out of the car, you use something different."

He started. "Sorry, my knee is feeling pretty good, got some good rest today." he answered, still studying the lighthouse. “This is Mom's home? It's amazing." He ran a hand through his hair. “This is, this is great! She lives here?”

Di moved past him, noticing what a nice profile he had.  "The cottage is really the living quarters. It looks dark, I guess she's not here," she said, disappointed, as she unlocked the door. Then, she stood in shock at the scene before her. Her knees almost gave way, but immediately a strong arm was supporting her as she whispered, “Oh my God, what happened?”

Chapter 17

Di stood frozen. Tempest stared from her white face to what must have normally been a small but cozy living room. Right now, however, the room was a shambles. Pictures pulled off the wall, CDs and books thrown about, a rag rug kicked aside and half covered with scattered papers. For a confused moment, Tempest wondered if there had been an earthquake, than he realized the chaos had been created by human hands.  Di swayed and he quickly put his arm around her. "It's OK, it's OK." It wasn't OK, of course, his mother's cottage had been robbed.

"What if TC was here?" Di whispered.

The same thought had struck him, but he said more forcefully than necessary, "She wasn't here. Her note to you made it clear she wasn't coming home right away."

"But what if - "

He cut her off harshly. "She didn't, there's no way she could get here faster than us. Who knows when this happened? Now we need to see what's missing and call the police. I assume there are stairs in the lighthouse, I can't climb those, why don't you see if the bas- I mean thieves got there and I will check all the damage in here?"

Di looked directly into his eyes and he met them squarely. Then she nodded, turned on her heel and went back out the door. He heard her crunching down the gravel path to the lighthouse, and as he turned back toward the interior of the cottage, he heard her call softly, "TC? TC, are you here?" Obviously he hadn't reassured her (or himself for that matter).

He rejected Bob's cane in favor of the crutches Di had left propped against the wall and picked his way across the ransacked room. He couldn't help from calling softly, "Mom? Are you here?"  She wasn't. She couldn't be. He pushed aside a thought of what could happen to someone who walked in on a robbery. "You see too many movies, Tempest," he muttered, as he maneuvered across the welter of papers on the living room floor.

He expected to find a kitchen behind the swinging door to the left and he was right.

"Mom?" The kitchen was in worse condition than the living room; cans and bottles pulled from cupboards, flour and coffee spilled on counters. One of the cupboard doors handing on one hinge. A rocking chair turned on its side. Not just thieves, he thought vaguely, but vandals. She couldn't have been here while it happened. 

He backed out and followed a short hallway from the living room to find a large bedroom, small bedroom and tiny bathroom all in various states of disarray. But no sign of his mother.

He drew in a long breath, knowing despite what he told Di, he was relieved. It was just a robbery, unpleasant, but nothing worse. Still a chill ran up his spine as he picked up a big green stuffed dragon that had been ripped. Stuffing was coming out.

"Janine!" Di's shriek made him jump and he looked around wildly. She rushed up to him and grabbed the dragon, moaning, "Oh, what did they do to you?" She was talking to a stuffed animal. She had clearly lost it.

He cleared his throat and asked mildly, "Does the lighthouse look like this? I guess we should call the police."

She looked up from the soft, white fluff she was trying to stuff back in the dragon, her eyes bewildered. "Why? Why would anyone break in here? TC didn't have much to take, why did they do this? All this?"

He moved carefully back to the kitchen. He'd heard the piercing signal of a phone off the hook there. Di followed him, still clutching that dragon. 

"I guess they were looking for, um, valuables," he answered her lamely "You know, like a safe, or even a hiding place like a sugar bowl. Sounds stupid, but people hide money in strange places."

He found the phone, got through to the local police. The dispatcher promised a squad car could be there soon. He glanced at Di. She was still holding that dragon, and she was shivering.

"Di, um, Ana." He stumbled over her name for some reason. "Put that down and let's wait outside," She didn't put the dragon down, but she followed him meekly enough. Too meekly.

The sun was setting and the wind blowing hard, so he retrieved their coats from the car. Even cold, he thought Di would feel better away from the wreckage inside. He held out her little blue jacket out and she looked at it blankly before she put down the dragon and put it on, buttoning it up to her chin and wrapping the purple scarf around her throat. The she picked up the dragon and sat on the stone steps in front of the cottage.

"Why don't you put that stuffed animal down?" he suggested as he sat carefully next to her. His knee was aching in the cold and he shifted, trying to get more comfortable.

"It's a puppet," she corrected him, sniffling slightly. "Mean Janine. You mother showed me her the night we met and now she's ruined."

Puppet? It was huge. He examined it more closely. "Oh I can fix this, it's just a seam." he remarked unthinkingly.

He pushed the stuffing back in and pulled the edges of the rip together. It would be no problem. He looked up to see her staring at him, the wind whipping her hair around her face.

"What?" he asked, somewhat annoyed.

"You can sew?" The doubt in her voice was not flattering.  Or was it scorn? Either way she seemed to be feeling better. At his expense.

"I can sew seams, yeah. Believe me, you have to make last minute repairs to costumes a lot. Pretty much all the skaters can do really simple things. So relax. I'll fix it."

"Her." Di was mutating into Di-ANA, she sounded like an old time teacher correcting his grammar. "Mean Janine is a girl, not an 'it'" she informed him.

He was relieved to see she was no longer shivering, probably warmed by her ripostes. He was grimly pleased that the police arrived as quickly as the dispatcher promised. Good timing.

The officers were right out of central casting; Ed, the older cop, the grizzled veteran, the other, Jose, the eager rookie. They may have been small town police, but they were pros, efficiently checking out the cottage and lighthouse (which had been empty and not suffered any significant damage, according to Di) When they finished, Ed told them there had been several robberies in the neighborhood. " Lots of expensive homes around here. Looks like they got mad that Mrs. Lovelace-Smith didn't have much to steal, this is the worst mess. Now what exactly is missing?"

Di was able to give good descriptions of TC's missing computer, printer, TV, and stereo but couldn't say if there was jewelry or money missing.   "She wore costume jewelry, not expensive. I never saw her handle any cash here, either," she told them.

"Well, she can confirm that for us when she gets back for the festival. That's in two days, have her give us a call." The older cop said as he closed his notebook. "Hopefully we'll have caught these guys by then anyway."

As they were leaving the kitchen, the younger cop's eye fell on the dragon puppet, which Di had placed gently on the rocking chair, and his reaction was astonishing.

"Mean Janine! Ed, look what happened to Mean Janine!"

Ed picked up the torn puppet and said a bad word under his breath. "We'll get 'em. Don't let Tiffany Crystal worry, OK? We'll get these jerks."

Tempest, completely befuddled by these rugged men handling a puppet so tenderly, asked, "You know my mom?"

Their faces lit up. "I'll say, we do!" Ed's rugged face was animated. "Well, once Jose and I were visiting a school, it was our turn for community outreach."

"It was career day," Jose reminded him.

"I know, I know, and we had our police dog puppet, You know, 'McGriff takes a bite out of crime'?'"

Tempest was baffled, but Di nodded. Must be an American thing, he reflected. 

Ed was still talking, "Well, we were -- well, we were terrible. The kids were bored and restless. They wanted to hear about shoot outs and stuff. What were they, about 2nd grade I think? And then we see your mom doing her career day thing at the next table, with Mean Janine here. All the kids are laughing and all excited. So, Jose said he would ask her to give us a few lessons. And she did."

Jose told them more seriously, "It was so great, the school visits and stuff are harder than basic training or writing reports or high speed pursuits or anything we do. But now, well, I almost enjoy them, no stage fright."

Ed nudged Jose, "Do your McGriff, like she taught you."

Jose demurred, but Di encouraged him and Tempest found himself joining in, intrigued at this picture of his mother.

"Ruff, ruff! Take a bite out of crime!" Jose finally said, sounding a little more like Scooby Doo (with a very slight spanish accent) than a police dog. He added in his normal voice, "TC told us, that you have to believe the dog is real and if you do, the kids will."

He shook his head, now a little embarrassed. "Anyway it worked. And we think your mom is great. She performs every year at the Founder's Day festival, can't wait to see her. When she gets here, be sure and tell her we will get these guys."

Ed added, "She's a great lady, don't let her worry."

After the officers left, the cottage seemed colder and the mess… er, messier. We need to eat something, Tempest thought. We're cold and tired because all we've had is snacks today. He looked at Di. Diana. She looked exhausted, forlorn. She had removed her jacket and one sleeve of her sweater was pushed above her elbow while the other hung around her wrist. 

He had played around with her name so much, he stammered a little when he tried to speak kindly to her, "Di...um...Ana, Why don't we grab something to eat? We can figure out what to do over dinner."

She lifted her head as if it were a great effort and he suddenly felt a pang of worry. She looked pale, maybe she was coming down with something. "Eat? Ugh I couldn't eat a thing. Anyway we need to clean up this mess." 

"No," he said firmly, "We need to eat, then figure out how to get you on the way back to New York, then I will clean up the mess."

"Back to New York," she said dully.

He nodded. "Yes. For the, for the wedding." It was easier to say than he thought.  A little.

"I can't" she said abruptly. "I can't go back."

He positioned his crutches carefully around a half spilled sack of flour and touched her wind-tangled hair gently "Di - " he started, but she jerked away from him and out of the kitchen. He heard her almost running out of the cottage and through a tiny window over the sink saw her go back in the lighthouse. Damn.

He was torn. He was not unfeeling, he told himself virtuously. Something was bothering her.  Maybe he should go after her. But on the other hand, he wasn't exactly her best buddy. Only 24 hours ago she'd dumped approximately 1500 calories on his lap. (Thank goodness Grandmother had firmly instilled in him the habit of placing one's napkin on one's lap)

Maybe Diana had stashed a box of Twinkies in the lighthouse that she was saving for ammo. He found himself chuckling in spite of everything. Her line about the waitress's "daily specials" would have been funny if he hadn't been worried about what he'd said in his sleep. And he had been thinking of Dad's worry about her being a journalist and out for a story. But angry or not, that was no excuse for what he said, and he kind of liked that she didn't take it meekly.

He took a few indecisive steps toward the door. If she wanted to talk, he was a pretty good listener. He'd heard plenty of stories from the girsl on touw who seemed to look at him as a big brother. He moved carefully over the gravel, then stopped. When he was in the hospital, he had almost never been left alone. The first few days he'd been grateful for dad's comforting presence, but then he'd desperately needed time to sort things out, his memories or lack thereof. He looked up the white walls of the lighthouse and thought he saw her slim figure on the deck that circled the small tower. For some reason the thought of Rapunzel entered his mind. Diana was beautiful enough to be a princess from a fairy tale. She seemed aloof from her surroundings sometimes. He scowled, remembering her voice saying something about "Trent" never thinking she did anything right. Yeah he'd like to find this "Trent" and straighten the guy out. Had to be a boyfriend, had to.

She would not welcome him, he thought suddenly, why else did she climb a flight of stairs. What if she saw him looking up at her? Embarrassed, he dragged himself over to the car and got out his duffle. He went back into the house and without asking himself why, he pulled his emergency kit out and dug around for needle and thread.

He was trying to figure out how to get the stuffing back into Mean Janine, something was tangled in it, and he was frowning with concentration when a voice spoke practically in his ear.

"You were right. I am a coward."

Chapter 18

Trixie wished she had the old gavel she used to use at long ago Bob-White meetings. She had to resort to a less dignified way to achieve silence: bellowing.

"Hey, you guys, shut up!"

The noise died down, but it probably would have anyway, Mart in particular looked like he'd run out of oxygen.

"Geez, what did I say?" Bob backed away from the group, all of whom were registering various levels of disapproval.

Trixie saw Brian put a restraining hand on Honey's shoulder as he said easily, "We're just surprised, Bob. Can you tell us what's going on? Di knows Tempest?"

"Oh she knows him all right, " Bob started to chuckle, but checked himself as his gaze met particularly grim stares from Jim and Mart. Trixie was getting tired of undercurrents but she was waiting for her moment to find out what was going on.

Bob's story was simple enough. Di had somehow met Tempest's mother and had been traveling with her when TC disappeared. When Tempest and Bob had gone to visit TC, they found Di instead. TC had asked Di to drive her car home and Di had, er, volunteered to take Tempest with her, so he could see that his mom was all right.

Bob shrugged as he finished, "So they drove down, they probably got there yesterday. Di was going to book a flight home from there. She said to tell you she'd be home for the wedding. It's really no big deal." He added, obviously still stupefied by the reaction.

"It's OK, Bob," Trixie told him. "We really didn't know what she was up to, I mean, what she has been doing. It's great that she is with someone as nice as Tempest, when you think about it. And you say his mom is nice too. We should talk with Di and see if she has any clues, right Honey?"

Honey nodded stiffly. Brian's hand was still on her shoulder and she leaned her cheek against his arm. Trixie was ready to ask what was going on right then and there, but Bob's presence was inhibiting, to say the least. An oppressive silence fell. She shifted the box on her desk and the unfamiliar glitter on her left hand caught her eye.

She exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, Bob, you don't know our news! Neither does Di for that matter. Guess what?"

Bob visibly relaxed and his grin was suddenly huge, "Come on, Trix, Mart told me! You're a full partner, Trixie, and I saw the plaque that says Belden Wheeler Detective Agency! It is so awesome! Of course, I knew it would happen, but I think it is so cool."

"That's not the news! I mean, that's true, I'm a partner, but," her voice faded, then got stronger, "there's even better news, and I think you will really be happy for us! It's well...How would you like Jim as a brother? We're getting married!"

Trixie waited, smiling, resigned, waiting for the 'It's about time' reaction everyone else had given. One thing about Bob, he wasn't subtle, he'd probably be the first to say it right out loud. She smiled up at Jim, who was suddenly standing close behind her, and then glanced back at Bob and did a double take.

Bob's grin had frozen. His eyes were wide and she realized, he was the first person to be surprised by the news. In fact, he looked shocked. He blinked a couple of times and then made his pronouncement, "You're getting married to Jim? But what about Tem- " He turned beet red, shut his mouth firmly and then quickly squeaked, "What about your career? I thought you would concentrate on being a detective and all that. But of course you can do both, that's what having it all means, I guess."

Jim went rigid. Bob stopped babbling and put his arms around her in a somewhat awkward hug, than even more awkwardly shook hands with Jim and said, "It's really great, Jim. Really! I mean I have always... I mean, I always did think of you as another brother. Well. That's cool. That's really cool."

Honey seemed to show all her teeth as she spoke brightly. "This calls for a celebration! Would you mind asking Letisha to brew up some coffee for us? And I have some chocolate chip cookies out there too, I think. Could you get them for us, Bob?

Bob, still red around the ears, raised his chin. "Sure. I get it, get rid of Bobby so we can talk. 'Go eat some cookies, go wash your hands, go get me a flashlight.' Same as when I was a kid. Well, I'm, not a kid anymore. If you aren't going to look for Mrs. Smith, I will. Tempest and Bill are really worried about her!" Bob jerked the door open and stormed out, slamming it behind him.

"I'll go after him," Brian said, his eyes resting on his fiance briefly, and nodded meaningfully.

Honey who had been pale, now looked flushed and oddly stubborn.

Trixie looked at her best friend, her fiance and her brother and spoke through her teeth, "All right, will someone please tell me what the problem is?"

No one spoke and she laughed shortly, "You were all eager enough to talk a minute ago. What is the big deal? Is it because Di is with Tempest? I think it's nice that they are helping each other out. Bob's right, it's no big deal. Tempest is probably good friends with Mr. Lynch, after all."

More silence. Mart shifted uncomfortably. Jim was glaring at her cluttered desk.

Honey finally spoke. "Trixie, don't you think it's disturbing that Di is driving all over the Pacific Northwest with someone who is virtually a stranger to her? And just a few weeks after her engagement broke up? She is very vulnerable right now and I don't want anyone taking advantage of her."

Trixie laughed unbelievingly. "Tempest Smith? You don't seriously think he would hurt Di in any way!"

Again, silence. Astounded, she exclaimed, "Jim, Mart?"

Her fiance's jaw seemed to have been welded shut. Mart muttered rather unconvincingly, "I don't really know Tempest, but I remember at the Glen Road Inn..." his voice died away all together under her rather shocked scrutiny. This was ridiculous. Tempest had really helped her sort out her feelings last year, he'd saved Amelia Gould'd life last years, and Bob's too. If they had met him as kids, he'd probably have been made an honorary Bob White!

Jim spoke suddenly, "Mart, Honey, I'd like to talk to Trix alone." Mart looked slightly relieved and scuttled out. Honey expression changed subtly to concern, but she left after a strangely pleading look at Trixie.

Trixie barely waited till the door closed behind her friend before she demanded, "What is this all about?"

Jim's eyes were narrowed and he said evenly, "I think we need to have a talk."

Have a talk. That struck Trixie's ears oddly and then she remembered she had wanted to talk to Jim about something, too. What was it?

Jim walked to her lone window and stared out at the office building across the street. He kept his back to her but she could see his face reflected in the window. She swallowed, he looked unhappy. A fragment of a dream she'd had once came back to her. She was sad, she was looking out a window, when had she dreamt that?

She jerked her mind back to the present. Jim had finally come to the point "....hiding your relationship with Tempest."

Keep calm, Trixie told herself, feeling herself rise to her full height The important thing is to talk. Fully intending to keep talk and keep talking, she heard her own voice, high and thin repeating, "Relationship? Hiding?" before she lost all power of speech.

That was OK with Jim, he seemed to have a lot to say. "Yes, your relationship. With the great Tempest Smith. The Olympic Champion! I know you have lots of friends, but why didn't tell me you... you were... he was… he was close enough to you to be sending you a special birthday present?" He picked up the skates by the laces and let them dangle a minute before he dropped them. The thud echoed in the small room as Jim grabbed her by the shoulders.

"I just don't understand why you kept it from me," his green eyes searched her face with what looked like desperation, "I mean, why the secrecy? It's not like you, unless..."

He left the thought unfinished, but Trixie's emotions had progressed from flabbergasted to furious. She broke free from his hold and yelled, "Unless what, Jim? Unless I was two timing you? Pretty difficult when you only managed to choke out, 'I love you' one week ago!"

"If I had trouble telling you my feelings, it's only because I didn't know where I stood with you!" he shot back. "It wasn't like you were all over me! And yet you had no troubling kissing Tempest Smith one day after meeting him!"

"That was - You didn't... how could- " Trixie was seeing through a red haze now. Was he actually angry with something that had happened well over a year ago? When she and Jim had been as far apart emotionally as it was possible for two people to be?

"Well you have some nerve, Jim Frayne!" She was shrill in her fury. "You've dated tons of girls! Honey told me all about them!"

Jim straightened. "That was different," he said through his teeth. "Once I realized how I felt about you, everything changed. I remember the day I knew I loved you. You were home for Christmas. I asked you to breakfast at the Glen Road Inn and..." Jim stopped a moment and looked down at his clenched fists.
 
"And Tempest was there and he asked you for a date. The next thing I know you're kissing him all over the newspapers! Yeah, I admit it, I was glad when he went back to Canada. I thought I had a second chance and I devoted myself this whole last year to prove to you that I loved you. Even if I didn't say it out loud, you knew it, you were responding. But if you were in contact with Tempest Smith all that time -- " his shoulders slumped and he said quietly, "Don't you see? It is so unlike you to hide something from me, that I can only think that you still have feelings for him. If you do, you can tell me. You have to tell me." He looked at her directly, barely breathing, his eyes blazing.

Jim was jealous. How weird. She opened her mouth to explain, she took a step forward to throw her arms around him and reassure him, then paused, Jim knew her, probably better than anyone else. Surely, he knew deep down that she loved him.

She met his eyes. She was surprised to find she was no longer angry with him. He used to accuse her of jumping to conclusions, but he seemed to have picked up the habit himself. Still, for his sake, she wanted him to realize it himself. He was hard on himself, too hard, sometimes. If she flat out told him the skates were from Bobby, he'd be angrier at himself than he was now angry with her. Love was a strange thing to make someone as smart as Jim so irrational.

She picked up the skates and looked down at the white leather covered with signatures. Sure Tempest's name was there, but so was Amelia's and a lot of skaters from Skate Connection. Only a few from Canada. Without looking up she observed, "There are a lot of signatures on these skates. Take a look. I'm going to find some of that coffee. I'll be right back."

She wasn't smiling, and neither was he. He took the skates from her and tossed them back on the desk. "Take a look," she repeated and stepped out into the hall and leaned against the door. Bob had not signed the skates, but she had faith that Jim would figure who had really given them to her.

She closed her eyes briefly, suddenly panicking. Maybe she should have just told him. She was a complete novice at love, she'd never been in love, what if she messed up? What if she hurt him? She was grabbing the doorknob to go back in, when Honey and Mart strolled up with coffee, eyeing her with what could only be suspicion. She looked them over, her best friend and her almost twin. She found they were the ones she was really angry with. Honey had always been odd about Tempest, now she was starting to understand why. Tempest must have seemed like a barrier to Jim's happiness.

She sauntered up to the two, who were so silently disapproving she was goaded into saying nonchalantly, "I've been thinking about the case and I think the best plan is for me to get on the first plane for the coast. I think I will need to talk to Tempest in depth. It will be so good to see him again."

As she expected they both looked pissed. She continued to bait them in her most innocent manner, "He's probably as worried as Mr. Smith, he probably needs a really good friend with him right now."

Mart was grinding his teeth almost audibly, but Trixie continued breezily. "Of course, Di is there with him. She will probably be able to comfort him." Surely her brother wouldn't let that comment go by. Trixie suspected he still had some strong feelings for his childhood sweetheart.

He didn't let it go by. "Are you a complete lamebrain?" he shouted with the full weight of his eleven month age advantage. "Di is all alone with this guy! What is the matter with you? How could you be more worried about some guy you had a fling with instead of one of your closest childhood friends?"

A fling? Suddenly she felt like she'd stepped into a soap opera, or worse, some bad fan fiction posted on the Internet.

Before she could defend herself in true melodramatic fashion, her office door opened. Jim walked straight to her, picked her up and kissed her hard. Without putting her down, he whispered, "Did Bob give you those skates?"

She couldn't speak, but she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said before she silenced him.

Chapter 19

"You're freezing!" Tempest exclaimed, ignoring Di's confession. He struggled to his feet, leaving Mean Janine to spill her fluffy innards on the littered floor.

"Tempest, listen, I need to-" Her soul searching at the top of the lighthouse had convinced her that she needed to do two things, one of which involved apologizing to Tempest.

Tempest wasn't cooperating. He growled, "You need to get warm," as he pushed her gently down on TC's soft, squishy couch.

Di couldn't control the little shivers that shook her body. The wind had blown right through her, but it also seemed to clear her mind. Her other task was to go back to Sleepyside. She needed to go home.

Tempest eased himself to the floor and pushed Mean Janine aside. Di watched him open the door to TC's fortunately undamaged wood burning stove. He crumpled newspaper, arranged driftwood and lit matches. As he fanned his blaze, Di decided she would tell him he was sorry for the Chocolate Indulgence Incident. (Even if he had deserved it) Yep, she would apologize as soon as her teeth stopped chattering.

She held her numb hands out and was sighing with pleasure when he suddenly scowled at her and said, "I never called you that!" It took her a minute to remember what he was talking about. Oh yes. He was referring to her (correct) statement that she was a coward. "You most certainly did call me a coward, you did last night! You yelled it through the door! And you were right, I am." Why did she sound so belligerent? She was supposed to be apologizing.

He turned away slightly. "Oh that. Well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I don't think you are a coward. I was just mad, I didn't know you heard that. "

He was stealing her lines, her apology! Indignant, she opened her mouth to offer a ferocious apology, but he said abruptly, "We need to eat. You sit here and get warm." He disappeared through the kitchen door without another word.

Well, how do you like that? So much for the big apology. More than a little put out, she stared into the leaping blue flames, listened to the crackle of the fire and lapsed back into her miserable assessment of her life. As she had so dramatically proclaimed, she was a coward. It was no real revelation, after all. It had been wonderful and yet so very difficult to be Trixie's friend. No matter what she did, Di knew she didn't measure up to Trixie and Honey’s standard of bravery.

She'd been satisfied, so she thought, with writing the thank you notes and organizing the parties while Trixie and Honey tracked down gun runners and con men. For a long time, she had actually comforted herself with her confidence that her looks evened things out. She would die if Trixie or Honey ever realized she used to think that.

It wasn't until she was in college that she realized how shallow she was. But she had taken control. She'd been downright proactive, she'd worked hard, and made a career for herself, she had taken chances, especially as a freelance photographer, she thought, lifting her chin. Until she went to work for Trent and allowed him to stomp all over her heart and send her spiraling back to those feelings of inadequacy.

Di stood up angrily. She just spent an hour in the cold rehashing her past mistakes. The inescapable conclusion was she needed to face up to it. And, facing up to it meant going home, admitting she'd made a terrible mistake about Trent to her parents and friends and accepting their pity. The very thought revived her feeling of panic, but it had to be done.

Then she would move on. Move to her life as an independent woman, like TC. It had been TC’s example that had helped lift her out of her despair about Trent, after all. She sighed again. Where was the eccentric puppeteer right now? She glanced around at the wreck that had been TC’s cute little living room. Her eye fell on poor, torn Mean Janine. Tempest had started to stitch her up. Wanting to keep busy, she pushed the oddly lumpy stuffing back in Mean Janine's tummy and took up Tempest's needle and thread. When she was finished, she was sorry she'd bothered, Mean Janine's tummy was now all lumpy and bumpy instead of curving smoothly.

"I guess I can't do anything right, " she was muttering when a heavenly aroma drifted by. "Hot chocolate!" she exclaimed, as Tempest held out a steaming blue Winnie the Pooh mug. "And don’t tell me you're not thirsty, just drink it," was his harsh command. Although it was not a good start on the road to being an Independent Woman, Di obeyed. It tasted divine.

In a softer voice, Tempest asked, "Feeling better?" She looked up and when their eyes met, she inopportunely remembered her view of him last night.

Hoping she was not blushing, she stared at her cup as she muttered, "Yeah, much better thanks." There was no noise except for the gentle roar of the fire. Di continued to study the cup which looked like the one TC had used the night they'd met in Golden Gate Park. She noticed inconsequentially that advertised a children's bookstore in Colorado Springs. If she didn't go back to photography, maybe she could run a children's bookstore. But not in Colorado, maybe in LA. Or back home.

When she finally looked up, Tempest was returning to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he limped through the swinging door with two plates. He had rejected both cane and crutch and after handing her a plate of scrambled eggs, sank down on the couch with obvious relief. "Let's eat and then we can make some plans."

She ate, she was suddenly starving and the eggs tasted surprisingly good, and he'd given her a large portion. "Well, I feel better," he commented. She blinked, he'd finished his eggs in about two minutes. She glanced down and saw she was almost done as well and laughed ruefully.

"Yeah, me too. As far as plans, the obvious thing to do is pick up the mess. I don't want TC to see it." She shuddered, remembering the time her family had been robbed. Trixie had found all the stolen items (naturally), but Di had given away all her recovered property, she couldn't bear to use it, it was as though it had been contaminated. She didn’t want TC to go through that.

"You need to go home for the, the wedding, Trixie will want you there, of course. I'll clean up." Tempest put his empty plate on the floor and closed his eyes briefly.

"Right," she snapped, vaguely why Trixie would want her at Honey's wedding. And just w hat was the deal with him being nice to her? When he was nice, she couldn't help noticing lines of weariness, or maybe pain around his eyes. "You'll hop around on one foot and clean up this whole house, no problem. The wedding isn’t for a month. I'll stay and help."

"I'm actually feeling much better," he remarked, ignoring her pettishness. He looked at her measuringly. "If you really mean that, though, it might be a good idea for you to hang around a couple of days. Those police officers mentioned some festival Mom is scheduled to perform at. If she doesn't get back in time, you could do the show."

Every drop of blood in her body flowed down to her toes, sinking along with her internal organs. She couldn’t do a whole performance by herself. It was impossible. Then she rallied, "TC will be back soon then. There's no way she would miss a commitment like that. No way!"

"Well, good, that's what I thought too," he agreed. He reached for Janine and exclaimed, "Hey! You fixed the dinosaur!" He started to examine her crummy sewing job and she snatched the puppet from him, embarrassed. "She's a dragon," she told him childishly.

"Sorry, I suppose I'll figure it out event-" The phone shrilling in the kitchen interrupted him "Should we get that?" he asked uncertainly, reaching for his cane. "Maybe it's Dad. My cell phone’s out in the car, maybe he's trying to reach me. Or maybe the police are calling.”

Di was already on her feet. "I'll get it,” she called over her shoulder. As she ran through the door, she nearly kicked a sack of flour across already messy floor. Tempest hadn’t cleaned up at all in here, she noted. Just cooked around the mess. Typical man. It sure was easier to think of him as a typical man when he was not sitting two feet away looking at her with concern in those dark eyes.

She picked the sack up absently as she answered the phone. "Oh thank goodness! Is that you Di? Are you all right?" A warm, familiar voice.

"TC!" Di gasped, "Where are you? Are you all right?"

TC sounded surprised to be asked. “Me? I'm fine, Di, I am just trying to work out a few things, I called earlier, and the line was busy, I hoped it was you, thank you so much for taking the Rambler home, it was completely outrageous of me to ask you to do it!"

"It’s OK, TC, but where are you? We've been worried! You just disappeared!"

"Well... I had to take care of some business, some unfinished business quite unexpectedly,” TC responded vaguely. “It may take a few more days to persuade her..." Her voice trailed off then she continued, "Di, you've been so wonderful, I hope you can forgive me, I promise you, this business was urgent," TC's voice suddenly sounded as hard as granite, "or I would never have up and left like that. I'll be ashamed to face Tempest again, I am she he is furious with me."

No, he's not, TC, he's right here, let me put him on!"

TC gasped and a veritable avalanche of words poured out of the receiver. " He's there? You've met-  How did - Did you say he is there the lighthouse? Oh, no! What does he think? Does he like it? Oh, gosh, Di, please hide my pet rocks before he sees them! You know where they are, in the small bedroom...”

Di waited for TC to stop talking, wondering if she should tell TC about the robbery but TC had excellent breath control and she rambled on, "...and that lava lamp, just hide it in the hall closet, you are such a dear! Now can I talk to him? No wait! There's just one other thing, I'm sure you're already doing it, you are such a sweet girl, but just, you know, keep an eye on him." TC’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, "I know he was still not feeling good the other night, even though he tried his best to hide it. I wanted him to, well, you know, confide in me but... well, I forfeited my right to butt in a long time ago.”

TC sighed gustily then added, “Anyway Di, would you kind of hint him into not doing too much, a concussion is nothing to take lightly and Bill said he hadn’t taken a break since before the Olympics and he’s all run down and, of course there's that thing with his amnesia and all, I mean, if you could just make sure he's ok before you go back home, I'd be so grateful."

Tempest had joined her and was trying to take the phone from her while she tried to interrupted TC’s monologue. She could only blurt out, "OK, but TC, there’s something..." before he took it and said, in an almost shy voice, "Mom? Are you ok?"

Di let them have some privacy, while she went out into the living room. The lava lamp was on the ground by a wood burning stove and Di obediently hid it in the closet, while she sorted out what TC had said.

Tempest had a concussion? And Amnesia? That was kind of important to know, you’d think he might have mentioned it. Well, at any rate, he seemed ok. Still, she'd watch out for him till she went home. She could probably catch a flight tomorrow. Or the next day. But suddenly going back suddenly didn't seem quite so bad. People did break engagements, and if Trent (rhymes with 'get bent' she giggled suddenly) didn’t think being engaged to be married committed him to a little thing called monogamy, she was better off without him.

She bent to straighten the rag rug and under it, found a welter of wrinkled blue papers. She glanced at them and gasped. She ran headlong through the swinging door and headlong into Tempest, who grabbed wildly for the counter, missed, and down hard on the floor, pulling the flour sack down on top on his lap. "Oh great," he glared up at her.

"Never mind that, is she still on the line?" Di could see she wasn't, the phone was clearly hung up, "Call her back, call her back!” she was reaching for the phone frantically. “We need to call her back, Tempest. The Founders' Day celebration is in two days!”

"Calm down, Di, um, Ana. What are you talking about?" He remained on the floor, his lapful of flour sending up a white cloud, some to settle on his curly hair.

He was right, she should calm down. No Problem.

She dropped to her knees, grabbed him by his (broad) shoulders and shook him, yelling urgently, "You have to call her back! She is supposed to be the featured performer at the Founders' Day Festival. Look!" Di waved the fliers with TC and Mean Janine's picture on it under his flour smudged nose.

He snatched them, scanned them and swallowed. He met her eyes and said slowly, “She didn’t leave a number. She wouldn't say where she was, she just kept saying she needed to concentrate on some unfinished business.”

Di whimpered, "What if she forgot? She told me her business would take a few days!"

Tempest ran his hands through his, sending up a small puff of flour. "We can’t let Mom down, Ana. There’s only one thing to do."

Don’t say it, she willed him, don’t say it. She knew he was right but she didn’t want to hear it.

He said it.

"If she doesn’t get back in time, you'll have to do the puppet show yourself."

 

Chapter 20

"How did I let you talk me into this," Tempest groaned and wiped his forehead with his free hand. "I'm terrible!"

"I didn't talk you into it, you volunteered." Di-ANA corrected him pertly, then said more gently, "And you'll get it, I just know it, you just have to be, well, funnier, that's all."

He gave her a baleful glance. It was technically true that he had volunteered to help with the show. She had been waving that lamb puppet around in an utter panic and he'd said something stupid like, "I'd help if I could." The next thing he knew he had a coyote thrust into his arms.

Now, two days later, Tempest stared at the puppet, a very scruffy looking coyote with a long red tongue and those plastic googly eyes. Each time he thought of the performance coming up in just a few hours, his stomach felt googly, too.

He hadn't had such a hideous case of stage fright since the first time he'd been interviewed on TV. He as just fifteen, and had barely been able to talk, his mouth was so dry, he'd wound up giving yes and no answers. What if that happened today? His mouth felt dry already and he rasped, "Oh, sure, thanks, that clears things right up, I'll be funnier, no problem."

She put down Borreguita, took a sip from her water bottle and pondered. "Well, TC kind of did it like this." She started choking, sputtering and snorting loudly and he couldn't help laughing; the contrast between her beautiful face and the ridiculous noises she was making was hilarious.

He tried to imitate her, marveling that only two days ago he thought of her as an aloof princess. Right now she looked hot and cross, her hair was uncombed, and her flawless complexion was glowing with the heat. She was actually more attractive now than when she was playing the aloof princess role.

And he kind of thought it was a role. Or protective covering.

For reasons he did not care to investigate, he asked suddenly, "So who is Trent, anyway?" She was taking a sip of water and choked for real at this question. He patted her back helpfully, while she coughed until her eyes watered.

Her eyes... In the morning light, they were more purple than blue. Some old time movie star had violet eyes, he thought it was Elizabeth Taylor but wasn't sure.

She avoided his question neatly, "You look tired, let's take a break."

"I'm not tired but if you don't want to talk about your boyfriend, let's keep practicing."

She ignored the provocation and finished her water. They practiced the Big Finish, as Ana called it. The coyote held his mouth open, expecting the lamb to jump in so he could eat her. Instead the lamb head-butted him and this that where he had the problems, the story really wasn't all that funny, but Ana assured him if he screamed and yelped in agony the kids would laugh. Problem was, even he could tell his yelps were not agonized, just lame. "How was that?" he asked just in case he was wrong and it really sounded hilarious.

She was avoiding his eyes. OK, it still sucked. "Maybe Mom is coming back today," he said hopefully and not for the first time.

"She didn't even say where she was, she could have been in Thailand for all we know. Well, if you're not tired, I am."

Diana stepped out of the puppet theater, sat on a kitchen chair. Tempest, not unwilling to take the weight of his still sore knee, sat opposite her and tipped his chair against the wall. She stretched her arms up and backwards, arching her back and breathing in deeply.

Tempest was appreciating the rather magnificent sight in silence when she stopped and said "I wish you would stop calling me that!"

Flabbergasted and deprived of a great view, he snapped, "I didn't call you anything, I was just sitting here. Me and Senor Coyote."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously I meant before. You keep calling me 'Di-um-Ana' Sounds like Diorama! I am not a shoebox, Tempest, is my name that hard to say?"

He had fumbled over her name the last few days. She had been so shocked and vulnerable after the robbery, he hadn't wanted to tease her. Embarrassed, he mumbled an idiotic explanation, "Well, you said only your friends call you Di."

Now she looked hurt. "So we're not friends? After all we've been through?"

He tried to joke, "I'd say we were more allies. Or comrades, yeah, comrades in arms."

She smiled reluctantly, the corner of her mouth tilting up just slightly. "OK, if you can't manage to pronounce my name, I can play that game Tem-mum-pest"

He couldn't help laughing more and almost lost his balance. He let the front legs of the chair thunk back to the floor and begged her, "Please, no, I get the point!"

"How 'bout 'Tempy' or 'Pest'" she was giggling.

Barely able to talk, he said, "I thought I'd heard all the jokes possible for my name, but I have never been called Tempy before. And if you call me 'pest' I'll have to call you Ana." She was laughing so hard she wiped her eyes. It was hardly that funny, but they were both slap happy. Although he kinda liked the sounds of Ana, it was softer, prettier than the inelegant, "Di"

In the last two days, Di's attitude had certainly softened toward him. The close quarters of the brightly painted by small puppet theater made this only common sense, but she seemed much more solicitous since Mom called. He was suspicious when she started offering him chairs but last night when she told him he should finish his milk and go to bed early, he was not amused.

"What is with you? I think I liked it better when you threw pies at me. What did Mom say to you, anyway?"

She had considered, then had tossed her hair, a habit of hers he was finding rather cute, and told him. His mortification was balanced by relief that Mom really wasn't mad at him. She'd said so on the phone, in fact that was one of the few statements she'd made that wasn't vague or veiled. He'd told her about the robbery, downplaying it as much as possible, and her reaction had only been to ask if her puppets were all right. He'd reassured her, leaving out Mean Janine's "wound." Protecting, he guessed. Apparently she had the same thought about him.

But now Ana (he really liked that name!) was treating him like he was a baby. Better a baby than an egomaniac. And speaking of egomaniacs...

"So, is Trent your boyfriend?" He tilted his chair back again and looked at her from under his lashes. Without getting up from her chair, she reached into the fridge and glared at him.

"EX-boyfriend." was her brief comment. She pulled out two diet sodas and scooted one across the table to him as she mocked, "What about you, do you have a girlfriend? And do you believe actually believe in being faithful to her?

He answered without thinking, "I don't think I do right now." She looked shocked and he added hastily "Have a girlfriend, I mean. I know mom told you I have a very slight loss of memory, and I am just not 100% sure I am seeing anyone right now." That didn't sound very dignified or senstive, so  he tried some diversionary tactics: "Why did you break up with Trent?"

She popped open her soda and came right back at him, "He wasn't really a great boyfriend, though I have to give him credit, he never claimed he had amnesia."

"It's not amnesia, it's memory loss. It's no big deal. So why did you go out with him, then? Is he good looking?"

She sipped her soda and her eyes were suddenly, clear, direct and honest. "I suppose that was a big part of it. But he is also romantic and smart and sophisticated. We were engaged, but he and I had different ideas on what that meant."

He interpreted that to mean Trent was sleeping around on her. Anger swept over him so he was caught off guard when she challenged him, "Someone broke your heart, too, I can tell, who was she?"

"I don't know, I don't remember," he lied. Memory loss had its uses after all. And Trixie never meant to break his heart, she just happened to be in love with someone else. He drained his can, crushed it with one hand and tossed it into Mom's recycling bin. "Look, we need to practice, we have to be at the community center with all Mom's stuff in about three hours and the show is a disaster. We've got to keep working." Although he didn't like the direction the conversation was taking, his own darn fault, too, his panic was not feigned. They were about to make fools of themselves in front of people who seemed to adore his mother.

Ana said stoutly, if not confidently, "The other stories are fine, and we'll just have to make do with Borriguita. Anyway, I wonder if we've been trying too hard. You don't skate 8 hours a day, do you?"

"Not eight hours, no." He was somewhat defensive because the truth was, he had worked hard as possible the last couple of years. Work was an antidote for Trixie.

"Well, then, let's relax." Ana suggested, "All we've done the last two days is either rehearse or clean. Let's have some music!"

She handed her can do him to crush and switched on a small radio the thieves had overlooked. The Beach Boys were shrieking "Fun, Fun, Fun" and Di started doing "the Swim." They had been listening to an oldies station the last few days as they'd cleaned the cottage.  She was a great dancer.

She stopped singing and yelled, "Did you skate to this one?" Her giddiness was infectious, even though it was obviously nervous tension run amuck, and he nodded, and started "swimming" too, doing the upper body moves from Champions On Ice finale from the Olympic year, and shrieking out the piercing ooo's.

Ana got the giggles again and could hardly sing as the next song began: Lightening Strikes.

"Cool, I skated to this in a really awful group number in".... he squeezed his eyes closed and retrieved the memory... "In Windsor when I was about 17."

Keeping his eyes closed, he played a little air guitar and joined Lou Christie's falsetto. "Lightning strikes me again and again and again and again..."

Ana was probably right, they were trying too hard. A clatter caused him to open his eyes in shock. Ana had knocked over her chair and was staring at him, her face lit up.

"Oh my god, that's Borriguita! That sounds just like Borriguita!

He stared at her. "Lou Christie is Borriguita?"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the puppet theater. "No, Silly, you sound like Borriguita! We've got it backwards, you have to be Borriguita and I'm Senor Coyote!"

She stuck the lamb puppet on his hand, and they ran through the show. When they were done, he met her smile. They both knew it was, if not good, least respectable.

"Let's do it again," was all he said, but he knew his smile must be as brilliant as hers.

A few hours later, he was not smiling. Huddled side by side in the puppet theater on the stage at the Julie Campbell Memorial Community Center, he and Ana were waiting for their cue to begin the puppet show. The MC had expressed perfunctory regret that TC couldn't come, but fortunately it had not been a big deal. Yet. It was hot, but his hands were cold. And his knees, the good one as well as the bad felt shaky He was not a performer, after all, he was an athlete, he could relate to an audience with skates on his feet, he'd trained himself to give a decent if not brilliant interview, but this was different. Way different.

The kids in the audience had gotten very silly with the magician who had just finished performing and he was experienced enough in the ways of audiences to know it would be hard to get their attention back. Thank goodness Ana was calm. She'd been totally professional, packing up the puppets, getting the puppets and props into Mom's little cart just right, making sure they had bottled water. She was as steady as a rock.

He looked at her in the dimness behind the puppet theater and whispered, "Are you ready?" She looked at him blankly and her face was a funny color. "I don't think I can do this. I am going to be sick," she whispered matter of factly to him. She took her troll puppet off and started to back out of the confined area.

"I can't do it," Now she sounded desperate, "I'm going to throw up, tell them I'm sick," she repeated, her eyes wide as she moved away from him.

He grabbed her by the wrists and snarled in a tiny whisper, "You get back here and you do it, right now. I haven't gone through the last 2 days to back out now."

She looked green and he realized she was not kidding. He grabbed a metal trash can. "Do it quietly," he hissed. She was obediently sick as quietly as humanly possible.

The MC's corny jokes drowned out the small noises she made. The MC was making jokes about why his mom wasn't there now, as Tempest administered Tums, small sips of water, and finally a breath mint to his distressed comrade. The latter made her glare, which he took as a good sign. He took her cold hands in his and whispered fiercely, "Ana, you can do this, you're going to be great, I know it, let go out there and kick butt."

Here eyes were locked with his as the sound system boomed out, "Tiffany Crystal Smith-Lovelace's Wandering Minstrels" She pushed up her sleeves, tossed her hair, picked up the Troll puppet and signaled to him to open the red velvet curtain. He took a deep breath and picked up the Littlest Billy Goat Gruff.

Forty-one minutes passed in a flash. He was stiff at first and sounded wooden even to his own ears, but once he heard the audience laugh, he relaxed a bit. Ana's command to use a falsetto, was a stroke of brilliance, it loosened him up. They hit their stride with Borreguita and Ana's screams and yelps brought the house down. Wow.

Just for a moment he had a flash of memory of his skate at the Olympics. He could see feel his final pose, he knew he'd had a great skate, the audience was cheering, he saw flowers falling to the ice. Only his feelings now, crouched behind a puppet theater in front of about 200 children seemed even more intense. As he made Senor Coyote bow, he looked at Di.

Her eyes were brilliant even in the dim light. Her hair was limp with one lock hanging in her eyes and her shirt clung to her. She turned to him and said quietly, "We did it!" He leaned forward to brush the lock of damp hair from her forehead, but couldn't think of a thing to say. That little half smile on her face, and for some reason he touched the corner of her mouth gently.

He leaned down, she reached up and suddenly he was kissing her. What was more amazing is that she was kissing him back too, her gorgeous body pressed close to him and her hands moving up to run through his hair.

Then she pulled away, not a moment too soon, as the MC was coming around the theater. "Hey you guys, take your bows, man, that was awesome!"

Tempest floated around to the front of the theater. The applause matched the beating of his heart. He snuck a look at Ana and she looked composed, too composed for his tastes. He'd have to take care of that.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, but they were never alone. Some of the kids and their parents recognized him and he had to sign a lot of autographs. He hoped he was civil, because all he really wanted to do was to resume kissing his comrade in arms.

Jose and Ed came to congratulate them and offer assistance getting the props and stuff in the car. Tempest suddenly felt the exhaustion normal after a great performance. Ed was telling him they had no new leads, but no more houses had been robbed. Tempest had to use all his strength to look interested His knee was throbbing (he hadn't bother with the cane today) Standing at the tailgate of the Rambler, saying good-bye politely to Ed, Tempest watched Ana from the corner of his eye. Dang! Jose seemed to be flirting with Ana before he waved and strode off with his partner.

Anger, (jealousy) surged through him and he slammed the tailgate down too hard. He gasped, he slammed Borreguita's head in the tailgate. No one was looking and he quickly opened it up and pulled her out up. No one was looking and he apologized to the battered puppet. She looked bad, there was a rip from her ear down to her little black nose. Ana would kill him… As he stared conscience stricken, at the damage, something fell from the rip and winked in the late afternoon sun.

"What is that?" Ana was looking over her shoulder having got rid of Jose. Wordlessly he held the object out so she could see it. The bits of fluff could not disguise the value of what appeared to be a very old, very valuable ruby bracelet.

To Be Continued

TBH Fan Fiction