• Leticia McKinelle and her ex-husband, Oswald Glendale, in the pool house at Red Terrace, had an argument that became physical.
• Father and son, Kirk and Lawrence Waterford, along with unlikely ally Senator Charles Taylor, confronted Oliver Jordan in another part of the pool house and thwarted his attempt to take over their company.
• Jason Marshall and Kaitlyn Godspeed, wanting to see how the other half lives, sneaked onto the grounds of Red Terrace and had a tryst in the pool house.
• The pool house burned down.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she stood in the doorway of her father’s home.

“Chill out Kaitlyn, it’s not going to make a difference if we’re seen together,” Jason Marshall said flatly.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the house, “what the hell do you know about it?  My Dad is the chief of police; I know how this stuff works.  When you suspect someone of something the people that they hang around with can give them away.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that the police are still looking for suspects…  and we were at Red Terrace when the fire started, Jason.  We shouldn’t be seen together, it’s suspicious.”

“We didn’t set that fire at the most we singed a carpet.  The candle was all the way out, I made sure,” Jason said rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air.  “I don’t know how many times we have to go through this.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust your firefighting skills since that building ended up burning down.  And they still don’t know how the fire started…  so you don’t know…  it could have been us.”

“God!  Relax!  You are such a pain in the ass when you get like this.” He crossed the living room and flopped down on the couch.

“Two people died, Jason…  and one of them was a senator.  And that other man was burned…  it’s not being a pain in the ass when it’s a big deal.  It’s been on the news, like, every night since.  It was on CN-freakin’-N.”

“Whatever.  It was probably the same guy who started the other fire downtown the night before,” he shrugged, “like an arsonist or something.”

Kaitlyn sighed heavily, “that’s what my Dad said.”

“You told your father? Are you fucking stupid?”

She scowled at him and punched him in the arm, “I didn’t tell him about us being there; just that there were two fires.  He’s still in California working on the trial of your brother, dickwad.”

“Okay,” Jason said.  “Just checking.  Good.”

“Hey, if you’re so sure that we didn’t cause the fire then why’re you so worried about anyone finding out that we were even there?”

Frank Denzre stood awkwardly in the living room of Kerstin Waterford‘s apartment.  On the couch was a disheveled and clearly distraught Leticia McKinelle-Glendale, with whom he had only a passing acquaintance.  He had entered the apartment without the foreknowledge that Leticia was inside and, he suspected, even Kerstin herself was unaware of the other woman’s presence in her home.

“I’m just here to pick up a change of clothes for Kerstin,” Frank stated after having realized that neither of them had spoken in some time.

“Okay,” Leticia said.

“So, I’m just going to go do that then.”

“Okay.”

He turned toward the hall that lead to the bedroom but was stopped by the ringing of the phone.  He glanced immediately at Leticia, who shrugged, and then at the phone.  “Should I?” He asked.

“Unless you want me to?” She replied.

“Who is it?” He asked, since the phone was on the coffee table in front of her.

She leaned forward, a collection of wadded up tissues rolled onto the floor.  “Red Terrace,” she replied.

Frank winced.  The phone rang its third ring.  He quickly paced the distance and picked up the phone, “hello?”

“Who’s this?” The woman’s voice on the line asked.

“Frank Denzre,” he replied, “is this Ophelia?”  Kerstin’s aunt had a particular sounding voice that was unmistakable in any medium.  “Kerstin’s at the hospital I’m just here picking up…”  He was immediately cut off as she began to speak.

The rest of the conversation was entirely one-sided with Ophelia relating to him the message that he was instructed to give to Kerstin.  He hung up the phone when she was finished and regarded Leticia, who had in the interim made some attempt to rebuild her countenance, again.  “Dinner at Red Terrace,” he said simply.  “Although I got the distinct impression that Ophelia would be quite okay with Kerstin not getting the message.”

Leticia nodded, “sounds about right.”  She pursed her lips, “something’s up, then?”

Frank shrugged his shoulders, “isn’t it always?”

Jehua Stanley cleared his throat as he passed through the doorway of the hospital room.  From her place at the side of her father’s bed, Kerstin Waterford looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and forced a smile.  “Hi,” he said weakly.  “I was just in the hospital to…  y’know, just for…” he pivoted to gesture out the door and then snapped back to face her, “how is he doing?”

Kerstin shrugged slightly, “the same, really.  They say he’s perfectly okay,” she paused and drew her eyes across her father’s form laid out on the adjustable bed, “but he’s clearly not.”

Jehua looked at the comatose Lawrence Waterford.  He was hooked up to numerous machines and monitors; their various clicks, beeps and whirrs created were inescapable.  Bayview Hospital was renowned for its organic layout, its homey and unassuming atmosphere, but these machines created a backdrop of hospitalness that no custom artwork or natural light could upstage.

He felt himself fidget and remembered that he’d gone to try to offer his support.  “Do…  do you need anything?”

She shook her head, “not really.  Frank is at my place getting me some clothes and stuff…  my Mom was here a while ago and brought me a book to read,” she held the book up from her lap.  “It’s about a kid with cancer…” her voice trailed off and she shook her head; her expression cracked to the slightest wry smile.

Jehua clamped his eyes closed and shook his head, “wow, not the most sensitive choice.”

She shrugged, “actually it’s pretty good.”  She ran her fingers over the cover, “but yeah, you know my Mom…”

Jehua chuckled in spite of himself, “yeah.”  He slid into the chair adjacent to Kerstin’s.  “Speaking of family, that’s why I’m here…”  She cocked her head sideways, “no, I mean,” he continued, “why I’m here at the hospital.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Yeah, my new little cousin James had an…”

“Hang on,” she said raising her hand and jumping out of the chair.  “Doctor Bachman,” she called as she headed toward the door.  “Doctor Bachman!”

She stepped back inside the room, followed by Doctor Bachman, who was brandishing a clipboard, and began to speak as soon as he was clear of the threshold.  “You told me that we’d know more by today,” she said.

He nodded, “I planned to come in to talk to you later on in my shift.”

“Well you’re here…  talk to me now,” she said.  Jehua stood and walked to her side.  Bachman briefly glanced at him before looking back at Kerstin.  She continued, “he hasn’t woke up, he’s still on all the same machines he was on when he came in here…  actually,” she said pointing to a machine in the corner, “I think that one’s new.”  She pinched the bridge of her nose, “I don’t understand…  what’s going on?”

Bachman’s expression was a mixture of annoyance from having been ambushed in the hall, compassion for a young girl with a comatose father, and something that Jehua couldn’t quite figure.  He spoke, “there’s really nothing to tell, Kerstin.  All of the brain activity is normal… for someone in a coma… but aside from that, there is no sign that he’s…”

Jehua immediately noticed Kerstin’s eyes begin to water; she held up her hand.  “When is he going to wake up?”

Bachman shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t mind the back-up,” Frank said as he folded another shirt and tucked it into the duffel bag.

He glanced at Leticia who was silently watching him slide another item of clothing into the bag.  She was slowly wringing her hands, “at Red Terrace,” he said by way of clarification.  “For Kerstin.”

“Huh?  Oh,” she said after a moment.  “At Red Terrace?”  He nodded and pulled another shirt out of the drawer.  Kerstin didn’t need this much clothing but he wasn’t sure what went with what.

She continued, “oh, uh…  well if Kerstin’s going to be…  I could stay at the hospital with Uncle Lawrence.”  She tilted her head slightly, “and Aunt Ophelia probably doesn’t want me there…”

Frank chuckled, “that’s sort of my point.”

“I don’t…  what’s your point?”

“That there’s safety in numbers.  With Lawrence in the hospital and Kirk…” he stopped and cleared his throat, “well…  it’s better if Kerstin has someone…  someones…  in her corner.”

Leticia nodded slowly but said nothing.

“Have you been back there since the fire?”

She’d been watching him fold the clothes, but suddenly her eyes darted up to his, “what?  Why?  No.  Uh, what does the fire have to do with me…  anything, I mean…  what does the fire have to do with anything?”

Frank pulled the zipper on the duffel bag closed, “I have a feeling we’ll find out tonight.”

“You sure changed your tone,” Jason Marshall said as he rolled over in Kaitlyn Godspeed‘s bed.

“What does that mean?”

He smirked, “when I first got here you told me that we shouldn’t be seen together, and then you basically jumped on my crotch.”

“Eff you,” she said, “and it’s not like you didn’t come here for that.”

“That is not the point,” he said emphatically, “admit it you’re hot for this.”

“Oh God.”

“What was that, like, an aftershock? Y’know, like after the 9.0 on the Jichter – that’s Jason-Richter – scale. Get it, nine… like my…”

“What is wrong with you?”  She said, throwing the blanket over his head and jumping out of bed.  “Can’t you be normal for just a little while?”

Every time Frank pressed the elevator button on their floor in The Rockwell he was drawn back to the first time that he saw Kerstin Waterford in the flesh.  Yes, he’d seen the pictures that Oliver Jordan had shown him when he was hired to get close to the woman and to get whatever information he could about her father’s business – which had turned out to be none at all – but at the elevator was the first time that he’d made her acquaintance.  She had been repeatedly pressing the button as if it would impress a sense of urgency on the machine that would result in its sooner arrival at the floor on which she waited.

He pressed the button a second time as he stood beside Leticia McKinelle-Glendale, a sort of silent homage to Kerstin’s emphatic urging of the elevator.  He hoped, in some way, that the kindred act might send a supportive vibe to her now as they were apart and she held vigil over her father.  A smile broadened across his face.

“What’s so funny?” Leticia asked.

He shook his head, “nothing.”

She frowned.

He turned to face her, “wait, I didn’t think you were a Waterford?”

“I’m not,” Leticia replied.

“But you called Ophelia Waterford ‘Aunt Ophelia’.”

“Yeah, but…  not really like an aunt-aunt,” Leticia said.  “Uncle Lawrence is my uncle because he was married to my Mom’s sister, my Aunt Stacy, but my Mom wanted us to be as close to the Waterfords as possible so we grew up calling Ophelia and Trey aunt and uncle even though they’re really not.”

After he didn’t speak for a moment she added, “it’s only confusing because you’re not from here.”

He chuckled, “how long before it all starts to make sense?”

“Sometime after your first evil twin shows up in town, probably.”

He tilted his head and jutted his lower jaw forward, “what?”

She shrugged in a sort of hopeless way, “you’ll see.”

Jehua’s arms wrapped around Kerstin Waterford as she cried.  The sound of her sobbing was growing more and more controlled and he hazarded pulling away slightly so that he could look down into her face.  She looked up at him with the too-wide eyes of someone trying to stem the tide of tears and he immediately felt the spark of closeness that they’d shared in the storage room at the P & Q more than a month before.

He flinched in spite of himself and he could see that she felt it.  “Sorry,” he said, his voice sounded hoarse in his own ears.

“Thank you,” she said.

“What for?”

“For being here,” she said, “for being here and not trying to make it better or to tell me that everything is going to be okay.  For just letting me stand here and cry for as long as I needed to cry.”

He opened his mouth to speak but said nothing for a long moment.  His mouth turned into a shadow of his patented crooked smile, “I wanted to, but I just didn’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say,” she said, her eyes still locked on his.

He could barely continue holding her for all the feelings that were running through his body, but he knew that her eyes were locked to his for no reason other than she refused to look at her father, laying prone in the hospital bed, because to look at him was to acknowledge his state.  He nodded and pulled her back into him.

“Kerstin,” he whispered, his mouth an inch away from her ear; she sobbed again and pressed herself more tightly in to him.

“Yes,” she said, softly, against his chest.  He could feel her faster breathing against his chest.  He could feel the electricity of the storage closet and knew that she could feel it too.  He leaned his head even closer so that his lips could feel the heat from her skin a mere fraction of an inch away.

“Kerstin,” he repeated.  He swallowed hard, “I lo…”

“Uncle Jay?” a small voice said from the doorway.

Jehua started.  He straightened slightly and turned as much as he could to regard the youngster standing there.  In the rapture of Kerstin’s touch he had nearly forgotten about the boy, the boy who was his reason for being at the hospital in the first place.  “Hey buddy,” he said his voice cracking and sounding extremely loud in his own ears, “is your appointment all done?”

The child held up a piece of paper and nodded, “yup,” was all he said.

“Good,” Jehua turned to look at Kerstin, who he noted was staring intently at the young boy.  “This is James,” Jehua said, “he’s the kid who was in the car accident a while back…  my Uncle Brentwood adopted him.”

Kerstin nodded slowly, “I heard,” she said.

“Hey, James,” Jehua said, “Kerstin’s having a bad day…  how about you come over here and help me give her a hug to make her feel better?”

The young boy bounded across the room, arms wide and grinning from ear to ear.

Leticia’s mind was racing as she and Frank Denzre turned the second to last corner before Lawrence Waterford’s hospital room.  There was a growing list of places in Emerald Heights that she didn’t want to be and Bayview Hospital was topped on that list on by Red Terrace itself.

In her mind’s eye she was two floors up and one ward over in the wing that housed her ex-husband who had also been in the hospital since the fire that burned down the Red Terrace pool house.

She’d been there that night.  In the fire.  With Oswald.

She shook her head violently to clear the image from her mind and wavered on her feet.  Frank proffered an arm and she took it briefly as she gave a uselessly awkward look to try to explain away her sudden stumble.  “Sorry,” she said.

“No problem,” he said, “I hate these places, too.  Nothing good ever happens in hospitals.”

They rounded the final corner and as the door of Lawrence Waterford’s room came into view Frank’s words hung in the air as they were greeted by the sight of Kerstin Waterford and Jehua Stanley in a deep embrace; both, in turn, enwrapped by a small boy.

• Kerstin Waterford threw a drink in Olivia Jordan’s face.
• Oliver Jordan plotted to buy Waterford Holdings’ debt in order to force Lawrence Waterford into foreclosure.
• Kerstin Waterford learned that her boyfriend Frank Denzre was working for Oliver Jordan.
• Leticia McKinelle burned down her ex-husband‘s secret lab in which he was developing some sort of drug.
• Jason Marshall rescued a drunk Kaitlyn Godspeed from the fate of waking up in a ditch.
• Kaitlyn vowed never to drink again.

“Did you know it’s an open bar?” Leticia repeated as the pair slipped back into the safety of the main house at Red Terrace.

“Yeah, I know.  Shut up,” Kerstin said.

“No, really?  That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Like you could do better.”

“Hmmm.  How about, ‘looks like you need a top up’, or ‘have one on me’, oh, or better yet, ‘have one on you’.”

Kerstin frowned, “I got my point across.”

“The drink got your point across,” Leticia added, “the look on her face was priceless, I thought she was going to take a swing at you.”

“So did I.”

“What was she talking about?  What did she mean by Jordan is expanding in more places than just Southeast Asia?” Leticia asked.

Kerstin realized that in all the day’s excitement she hadn’t mentioned Frank’s betrayal to Leticia.  She rubbed the bridge of her nose, “that’s a long story but the crux of it is that Oliver Jordan had spies infiltrate Waterford Holdings and get information to allow Jordan to buy up my Dad’s debt.  He plans to use that to…  I dunno, take over the company somehow.”

“Whoa,” Leticia breathed.  “What is your Dad going to do?”

Kerstin shrugged, “I don’t know, really.”

Leticia frowned over the rim of her glass as she took a sip, “who was the spy?”

Kerstin winced visibly, “actually there were two of them.”

“Really?”

“One of them was Marcus,” Kerstin said as she looked out the door at the bride and groom dancing happily on the dance floor that had been installed in the Red Terrace garden.  “Tish doesn’t know and I have no idea why Daddy let her marry him,” she shook her head.  She continued, “the other one was…” she turned to regard her cousin and felt the breath get knocked out of her as she regarded the man who stood at the end of the narrow hall in which the two women were.

“…Frank.”  She gasped.

Lawrence Waterford approached Oliver Jordan with purpose.  As the father of the bride he had been expected to dance one of the first dances of the night, but once his official duties were concluded – and before the speeches were to begin – he resolved to speak with Jordan.

“Jordan,” Lawrence said jovially clapping the older man on the shoulder, “come, join my father and I for a drink and a cigar in the pool house.”

To Lawrence, Jordan appeared to take the move in stride.  Lawrence reckoned that Jordan figured that he had the upper hand no matter the play that the Waterfords attempted to make.

The pair entered the pool house and rounded the narrow bay hall into the main sitting room.  Kirk Waterford was sitting in the room, along with Kent Armitage and Senator Charles Taylor.

“Senator,” Oliver Jordan said as the man stood and clasped his hand.  “I’m surprised to see you cavorting with this lot.”

The Senator smiled and nodded, “there was a time, Oliver, when I called the Waterfords my friends.”

Kirk stood and reached his hand out to Oliver Jordan, “if I don’t miss my understanding of the situation, Chuck, I think there may be a future for that friendship yet.”

“Quite.”

“What’s this all about?” Oliver Jordan said after a moment’s silence.

“Would you like a cigar?” Lawrence Waterford said with a sly smile.  “Or, perhaps, a cognac?”

Jordan shook his head, “get to the point, Waterford.  I don’t have to sit here and listen to this…  as a matter of fact I’ll tell you what…”

Lawrence stepped toward the cart that contained the liquor and poured some into a glass, “you’ll tell me what, Oliver?  That you paid Frank Denzre and my new son in law to spy on me and my girls in order to get information about my deals with Kent’s financial contacts so that you could buy up my debt and force me into bankruptcy if I didn’t turn Waterford over to you?”  Lawrence reached the drink out to Oliver Jordan, “does that just about sum it up?  You, uh, might want that drink now, heh?”

Oliver Jordan pressed the back of his hand against the drink.  He chuckled softly and shook his head, “well done,” he said in a tone that dripped with sarcasm.  He shrugged his shoulders and dipped his head slightly, “it seems that you’ve uncovered my plot.”  His face cracked into a smile as he turned to face all the other men in the room simultaneously, “however that doesn’t change the fact that I still own all your debt.  And, oh…  I think it’s collection day.”

Leticia had excused herself from the hall when Frank had shown up in the hall that she and Kerstin were using as their hiding place.  Leticia had scampered around the periphery of the Red Terrace garden, keeping a mindful watch out for her seemingly disappeared ex-husband, Oswald, and her friend-cum-employer-cum-ex-husband’s-lover, Sarah Price.

She stood under the Red Terrace pool house’s stone overhang, watching the wedding revelry from a safe distance buffered by the Red Terrace pool.  She leaned against one of the high columns and listened to the music as it played gaily; tear began to roll down her cheek as she thought of the previous night’s events: her outburst at the Price estate, John Price’s conversion at the hands of Oswald, and the fire at the lab.

The heel of her hand ground into her eye in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the tide of tears.  From across the pool Clara McKinelle, her father’s widow, glided into view and a deep shudder wracked her body.

Involuntarily she turned away and her vision was immediately disrupted by a man standing in front of her.  Reflexively she stepped back and gasped.  The gasp was deepened to an all out exhalation when she realized that the man was none other than her ex-husband.  “Leticia,” he breathed, as if using the very breath that she had just lost.  “We need to talk.”

He clasped his hand over her mouth and, with the muted sounds of the wedding’s festivities in the background, pulled her into the pool house unnoticed.

Kerstin’s voice still hadn’t come back to her.

“Kerstin?” Frank repeated.  “I really am sorry.”

She stood, immobilized and dumbstruck.  She really hadn’t expected to see him again as her grandfather had predicted.  She hadn’t bothered to knock on his door when she’d gone back to her apartment to get her dress that morning – although Leticia’s news had somewhat supplanted the thought at the time.  The events of the day had progressed at a pace that hadn’t allowed her time to plan what she would say should she end up face to face with the man again.

She hadn’t decided whether or not she was supposed to be mad at him; or whether she was supposed to be grateful that he came clean in time for her father to make an attempt to save his company.  Or whether she should give him the very time of day, or whether she should tell him to get off their property, or whether she should have him arrested for attempting…  whatever it was called that he was attempting.

“I…” she said by way of an attempt to speak.  To her own mind it wasn’t clear whether it was the word or the sound that she was forming.  “Why?”  She managed finally, softly, and calmly.  It was the only thing she could think of that would buy her the time necessary to decide what to think next.

“I needed the money,” he said simply.  “I didn’t mean to…  you know I care about you, right?”

She took a step backward and put her hands out in front of herself, “but, why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would you do that to me?”

He shook his head, “I didn’t know you.  I didn’t know anything about you, I never intended to like you…”

She turned away from him slightly and nodded slowly, “okay.”

“No, I mean…  I was supposed to do all those things for money, but I ended up caring about you for real.  I mean,” he said taking a step toward her, she flinched but didn’t move, “how could I not care about you?”

She chanced a glance up into his face, his eyes looked sincere.  He had the silly crooked smile on his face, but it was marred with the lines of the honest pain that she could see he was feeling.  “Can you forgive me?”  He said as she watched his lips part and form the words.  When he stopped talking the smile was gone, it was replaced with the tightly drawn grimace of a man awaiting his sentence; the eyes still held their sincerity but there was something else there, too.  Something deeper, something that she hadn’t seen from him ever before: vulnerability.

She breathed in deeply and then exhaled just as deeply.  And then she answered him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”  Leticia screamed when finally Oswald’s hand was removed from her mouth.  She had tried to bite him but hadn’t been able to manage it.  She’d figured that a surgeon would freak out if his hand was suddenly latched onto by sharp teeth.

“My dear such language doesn’t become you,” Oswald said as he slowly paced around the small sauna.  “But by all means, keep it up.  It’s not like anyone can hear you through these walls.”

“You’re a psycho and I know what you were planning,” she said as she slid back into a corner of the room, Oswald’s laps made her feel uneasy; he paced like a cheetah choosing its prey and she was the only discernible prey in the room.

Oswald nodded, “and I know that you killed a man.”

“It was an accident,” she seethed, “and he was helping you to drug the whole town.”

Oswald laughed, “good luck proving that.  But proving that you set the fire should be a great deal more easy… and that will serve my purposes just fine.”

Leticia drew herself back against the wall more firmly at hearing this.  He was right, her tire tracks, or her fingerprints – because fingerprints were probably fireproof, or a strand of her hair, something would have been left behind at the scene of the fire and it would only be a matter of time before it was discovered.  And she’d fled.  People who’re involved in accidents don’t flee.

“Why are you doing this to me?”  She said, her eyes scanning the room for a means of escape.

Oswald smiled, “I have Sarah now, and I’m happy.  I need to make sure that nothing can ruin that.”

“What if I promise that I won’t ever tell anyone?”  Oswald laughed and continued pacing around the room.  “I…  I…  I promise,” she said again, her tone changing in spite of herself, “I’ll tell Kerstin not to pursue it and I won’t either.”

Oswald stopped in his tracks.  “Kerstin?” He said, his voice raising.  He nodded, “figures,” he said.  “No, I can’t trust you Leticia.  Look at what you did to me in California.”

She slid across the bench into the opposite corner of the small room, “what I did to you?”  She asked incredulous, “you had me drugged on an operating table against my will.”

“Not against your will,” Oswald said, “you told me what you would do anything to make me happy…”

If there was more to that sentence she wouldn’t hear it, because as he had circled around to make his loop of the little room she’d leapt out and grabbed the kettle that sat near the rack where the coals would be heated to generate steam in the room.  The kettle, in her hand, swung hard and landed solidly against the back of Oswald’s head, sending the man, the kettle, its lid and its handle each flying in a different direction.

Jason Marshall pulled Kaitlyn Godspeed by the hand as they rounded the corner behind the Red Terrace pool house.  “I thought you weren’t going to drink anymore?”  He said sternly.

Kaitlyn laughed and raised her glass in a silent toast all alone and tossed back the contents of the glass, “this is really good booze.”

Jason laughed in spite of himself, “that mouthful of champagne probably cost 800$.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes widened, “really?  That’s awesome.”  She tossed the glass onto the grass, “I’m glad that you talked me into coming to here.”

“Coming to here? What?” He sighed, “you really are a lightweight.”  He shook his head.

“Listen, we should head home,” he said, “you’re already plastered and we’ve seen just about as much of this place as we’re gonna.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, tumbling slightly forward and ending up pressing herself bodily into him. “We haven’t been in there,” she swung herself around in what was thankfully a sort of twisting dip brought about only by Jason’s quick reflexes, else Kaitlyn Godspeed would have been pointing at the Red Terrace pool house while laying flat on her back.

“Fine, but after we go through there I’m taking you home,” he said finally.

Anders Wateford lurked outside the Red Terrace pool house’s sitting room and listened to his grandfather and uncle explain to Oliver Jordan how it was that they were going to expose Jordan for securities fraud if he went through with his plans to foreclose on Waterford Holdings debt.

“It’s as simple as this,” Kirk had explained, “I’ve got documents that run back almost forty years that show anti-competitive behaviour, tax fraud, falsified environmental documents, internal memos that include instructions from you to use intimidation and violence in business deals.  I’ve known that this was coming for a while, Oliver…  I’ve been preparing.”

“I don’t suppose you have anything to do with this,” Jordan had said to Senator Charles Taylor.

“I may have supplemented the pile,” he said flatly.

Anders continued to listen as the men pressed Jordan into acquiescing that he would turn the debt back over to Kent Armitage and give up on his plans to take over Waterford Holdings.  Anders was rather dubious that this last clause would be adhered to.

He leaned against the wall in order to be able to hear further what the men were saying when he was startled into standing upright, “figures,” the voice seethed, “they don’t bother to breed any manners into any of you Waterfords.”

Anders spun around and spied Olivia Jordan standing in the candle-lit bay hall of the pool house. “What are you doing here, bitch?”

Olivia laughed, “way to prove my point little man,” she sighed, “I’m looking for my father, I figure that it’s time to bring these festivities to an end and put a move on the… riff-raff.”

A smile spread across Anders face, “oh?  How are you going to bring the festivities to an end?”

Olivia shook her head, “you wouldn’t understand, boy.”  She said, “it’s all very…  business-y, you see, big words and the like.  Grown up stuff.”

“Your, uh, father is in there.” Anders offered calmly, “talking to my grandfather about how he just got his ass handed to him for trying to take over my family’s company.  Funny thing is that the words they’re using aren’t that big…  mostly ‘fraud’ and ‘anti-trust’…  maybe you should look those up before you go in, though.”

Olivia gave Anders a solid shove into the table beside which he stood as she stormed past sending him and the contents of the table clattering in every direction.

Leticia stood over the unconscious body of Oswald Glendale.  She stooped and checked quickly for a pulse.  She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she felt his pulse clearly in his neck.

She dashed the few steps toward the door of the small room, and turned back.  She winced as she looked at Oswald laying prone on the floor.

She bent down and rolled him up against the wall as best she could, kicking parts of the smashed kettle out of the way as she did so.  Satisfied that the man would in no way be prone to succumbing to some accidental death or harm – at least more than the bump on the head – by her hand, she pulled open the door to the small sauna and stepped out.

As her left foot came down, instead of landing firmly on the floor, it came to rest on the handle of the kettle that she had previously kicked out of the way.  The handle slid forward and carried her foot with it.  She lost her balance in spite of herself and she tumbled backwards, crashing into the pedestal from which she’d picked up the kettle as she fell.

Before she had time to react a burst of sparks and stars exploded in her vision; and then the world went black.

“Why are there no lights on in here?” Kaitlyn whined as they minced their way through the pool house.  As they’d entered Jason had heard voices in the long open halls and so had herded Kaitlyn away to avoid chastisement for snooping by the Waterford household staff or the Waterfords themselves.

“Ambiance I think,” Jason offered, “so that it doesn’t take away from the wedding decorations.  Or maybe it’s like this all the time…  it’s not like I’ve been here before you know.”

“It makes a nice ambinance,” Kaitlyn said softly and directly into his ear.  She plucked a candle from a table in the bay hall as they ducked into a darkened room.  “What’s this place?”

“It looks like a bedroom,” Jason said simply as he peered through the darkness that Kaitlyn’s candle singly penetrated.  As the light source dipped toward the ground he spun around to see Kaitlyn, too, making a move for the floor.  “What are you…  okay, let’s keep standing,” he said as he hooked his arm under hers and hauled her back up.

She pulled the candle up to both of their faces and smiled a drunken smile, “thank you,” she said, he could feel her breath tickle his nose.  “Do you think I’m pretty?”  She said quietly.

“I…  what?” He replied.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” She repeated, then, after a moment, continued, “I think you are.”

Jason chuckled, “you think I’m pretty, thank you.”  He said.

She frowned, “not pretty…  you know what I meant.”  She sighed, “but you don’t think I am do you?”

He stepped toward her, “as a matter of fact, I do.”  He leaned in and kissed her soundly on the lips as together they fell backwards onto the nearby bed.

Kerstin stood silently in the presence of Frank Denzre.  Neither had spoken for several minutes.  Her hands were in his hands and their eyes were locked.  She was satisfied with her decision about the future of their…  whatever it was, had been, was going to be.

The crooked smile was back on his face and hers, she presumed, was similarly laced with a smile – although not crooked.  She would have to get used to these new eyes of his.  They were no longer the eyes of a stranger, the eyes of someone to whom Emerald Heights was foreign, was unknown.  She could distinctly see the brand of Emerald Heights in those eyes; she could see beyond their rim and into the depth of his soul.

And she liked what she saw.

As she watched him a frown drew across his face and in the same instant an orange light flashed over his face.  His mouth opened in silent speech, but she heard the word nonetheless: fire.

In that same instant, as if in answer to a question neither of them dared to ask, a scream from outside pierced the silence and flooded their ears: “oh my God, the pool house is burning!”

• Oliver Jordan hatched a plot to take over Waterford Holdings through foreclosure.
• Kerstin Waterford learned that her boyfriend Frank Denzre had betrayed her family to Oliver Jordan.
• A drunk Kaitlyn Godspeed was driven home by Jason Marshall.
• Olivia Jordan returned to Emerald Heights temporarily from her work in Singapore to attend the Waterford wedding.
• Leticia McKinelle’s ex-husband Oswald Glendale was planning to drug the town.
• Leticia discovered Oswald’s lab and confronted his henchman.
• During the struggle the lab caught fire and Leticia fled.

A barefoot Kerstin Waterford padded quietly down the stairs of Red Terrace.  She noted Simpson, the house butler, glance down at her feet and shake his head slightly as she approached the doorway to the family dining room.  “Miss Kerstin,” he said, not to her, but by way of an announcement to the occupants of the dining room as she passed through the large arch.

She groaned slightly as she noted that the rest of the family was already seated around the large table, with the exception of Marcus.  His customary place was set but unoccupied.  She slipped around the head of the table and kissed her father on the cheek before sliding into the position at the table that was historically hers; she sat cross-legged in between the chair’s wide arms.

“Where’s Marcus,” she said, addressing her father rather than her sister.

“It’s our wedding day,” Tish replied from her left, “he can’t see me until the wedding.”

“Oh,” Kerstin replied, “I guess I forgot that.  So did he stay in the guest wing last night?”

“He’s eating breakfast in the little dining room,” Lawrence replied.

“So are you living here again, now?” Tish snapped.  “Because your room is gone you know.”

Kerstin laughed at the tone, “I noticed that,” she said, without looking at her sister.  “No, I just stayed the night last night because…” her voice trailed off as she realized that she didn’t have a good reason beyond ‘because I found out your fiance and my boyfriend were working to destroy out family’.  “Because… Daddy asked me to be here for breakfast this morning,” she said and hoped that it sounded convincing.  “It’s your big day after all.”

Lawrence smiled and nodded, “that’s right.  And after breakfast you girls can go up and start getting into your dresses.  Guests will begin arriving at 11.”

“My dress is at my apartment,” Kerstin said flatly.

Lawrence frowned, “I thought all the bridesmaids dresses were here?”

“They are, Daddy,” Kerstin replied as she turned from her father to look at her sister for the first time since sitting down, “but I’m just a guest.”

Kaitlyn Godspeed was ripped from sleep by the sound of the phone booming through her head.  She groaned and swore and swatted at the phone several times before her fingers successfully traced out the edges of the receiver.  She lifted it to her ear and croaked, “yeah,” into it as best as she could manage.

“Is the Chief available?” The man’s voice asked from the other end of the line.

“What?” She replied.

“Chief Godspeed, is he home?”

“He’s in California,” he replied, “this is his daughter.”

“Oh,” the voice said, “sorry to have bothered you.”

“Yeah,” she said and dropped the receiver to the ground; as she rolled over the light in the room stung her brain.  “Oh my God, I’m never drinking again,” she said out loud.

“That would be a good idea,” Jason Marshall said from the other side of her bed.

Lawrence stood in the foyer of Red Terrace and watched as his family dispersed to their various routines and duties for the big day.  Kerstin stepped through the door and he caught her eye; with a jerk of his head she moved over to stand beside him.  “Are you going to be okay going home alone?  I can send Lucas with you, or Simpson, even if you’d prefer.”

Kerstin laughed, “I don’t think Simpson would like that very well, Daddy,” she said.  “But I can manage just fine.  Like Grandpa said, I’ll probably never see Frank again.”  He heard Kerstin sigh and set her jaw in a way that looked like she was trying to contain her emotions.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” he said and leaned in to kiss Kerstin’s forehead.  “But I have to go talk to Marcus…”

Kerstin quirked an eyebrow, “what are you going to say to him?”

Lawrence shook his head, “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”  He kissed his daughter quickly on the forehead once more and patted her on the arm, “be back before 11,” he reminded her.  He then walked to the bottom of the stairs but was stopped by a voice behind him.

He looked back and watched the housemaid, Esther, holding the door open after giving Kerstin a gracious hug.  He smiled at the sight, but the smile was soon replaced when he heard Esther speak, “happy birthday, Miss Kerstin,” she said before swinging shut the large front door.

He cursed under his breath for having forgotten, turned and continued the climb up the stairs.

The small dining room adjoined the upstairs den that Lawrence used as his personal office.  He had directed the staff to ask Marcus to stay there after he was finished with breakfast.  He knocked before entering and Marcus stood, “Lawrence,” the younger man said.

“Sit,” Lawrence directed. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.  “Marcus,” Lawrence said after the young man was seated.  “I got some disturbing news yesterday morning and I wanted to address it with you.”

“With me?” Marcus said, “is there something I can do?”

“It actually concerns what you’ve already done, Marcus,” Lawrence continued, “specifically the information that you gave to Oliver Jordan.”

Marcus swallowed hard but didn’t speak.

Lawrence nodded, “well, I guess that tells me what I needed to know.  Frank was telling the truth.”

“Lawrence…” Marcus began, “Mr. Waterford…  I…”

Lawrence held up his hand, “frankly, Marcus, I couldn’t care less what you have to say.  But listen to me.  I am not going to say anything to Tish.  I’m not going to say anything to any of the family…  but,” he paused and turned to watch the man closely, “you are not going to continue to work for Waterford Holdings.”  He noted Marcus reaction, “on Monday you’re going to submit your letter of resignation and you’re going to…  I don’t care…  call Oliver Jordan.”

Marcus stood and walked toward him, “Jordan already gave me a job,” he said defiantly, “yours.”

Lawrence laughed, “we’ll see,” he said confidently, “oh, and if you get any ideas about backing out of marrying my daughter: don’t bother.  Corporate espionage is a very serious crime, Marcus, and I have more than enough evidence to put you away for a very long time.”

Neither man spoke for several moments before Lawrence added, “go.  Get out of my office.”

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?” Kaitlyn asked as she sat up quickly and self-consciously pulled the sheets up with her.

Jason Marshall laughed, “what are you doing?  You’re fully clothed,” he said.

She frowned quickly and looked down at herself.  She was, indeed, fully clothed.  And so was he.  In fact he was laying on top of the bed covers that had clearly never been disturbed.  She groaned and rubbed her forehead.  “You drove me home,” she said.

He nodded, “yeah, you would have ended up sleeping in a ditch if I hadn’t.”  He handed her a glass of water and a small white pill.  “Here, this’ll help with the throbbing head problem,” he smiled, “what was that phone call?”

“Someone looking for my Dad,” she said, “the station, I think.”

Jason nodded, “probably about the fire.”

“What?  What fire?”

“There was a fire downtown last night.  Some building burned down and there was a guy inside who died.  It was on the morning news.”

Leticia McKinelle knocked feverishly on Kerstin Waterford’s apartment door but there was no answer.  There had been no answer for the last twenty minutes during which she had stood there knocking.  Two neighbours had come out of their apartments to scowl at her for the disturbance but upon seeing the dishevelled weeping woman standing in the hall they had simply closed their doors in silence.

“Come on, Kerstin,” she said out loud.

The ding of the elevator door caused her to turn; Kerstin stepped out into the hall and fresh tears and sobbing came forth from Leticia as she walked toward her cousin.

“What happened to you?”  Kerstin said, her voice filled with awe.

“Oh my God, Kerstin,” she said.  “Where have you been?”

“I slept at Red Terrace last night,” Kerstin replied as she unlocked the apartment door and let Leticia pass her.

Leticia crossed the room immediately and crumpled on the couch.  It was a moment before Kerstin joined her in the living room.  “Did you get my message?” Leticia asked.

Kerstin shook her head, “I…  dammit, I forgot my phone at Red Terrace.”  She sighed, “no, I didn’t get your message.  I take it from your…  state…  that you had a run-in with Oswald?”

Leticia moaned out loud, “you don’t even know the half of it.  Did you hear about the fire downtown last night?”

Kerstin shook her head, “no, I came here right after breakfast.  I haven’t heard any news or anything.  What does that have to do with anything, anyway?”

Leticia pushed herself up to a sitting position on Kerstin’s couch.  “I…  followed Oswald to that building and…  he was making some sort of drug or something there…  and…  he was going to use it on the whole town,” she hard to work hard to choke the words out through the sobs.  “I set the building on fire.  I killed that guy.”

She watched Kerstin stand suddenly and then lower herself slowly back down onto the couch, “you killed Oswald?”  She asked.

Leticia shook her head slowly, “no…  I…  I don’t know who I killed.”

The sight at Red Terrace was one to behold.  Lawrence and Lynda Waterford stood to the right of the front door of the grand Georgian manor, Kirk and Eileen Waterford stood opposite them, and the rest of the Waterford family lined up on either side of the doors according to age.  Missing from the long line were Lawrence’s two daughters Tish – who was absent by design as the bride – and Kerstin – who was missing for reasons unknown.

The house staff of both Red Terrace and the old family home stood some steps behind the family, similarly flanking the door with men on the right and women on the left.

One by one the limousines arrived, making the circle in the open courtyard.  A staff of valets hired specifically for the wedding stepped forward and opened the door for each car and helped the women and aged men from the cars when necessary.  The whole thing was highly ritualized affair timed and planned with precision.  Many, including his eldest daughter, did not understand Lawrence Waterford’s insistence on adhering to what they contended was an antiquated and unnecessary exercise in pomp and circumstance.  For him it was an homage to the long standing traditions of his ancestors who called Emerald Heights their home.  Also, it was a chance to show off in front of the rest of the town.

The characteristic white limousine of Oliver Jordan appeared in the courtyard and Lawrence leaned in to his wife and whispered, “here we go.”

“Be nice,” Lynda chided.  Lawrence glanced at her quickly before returning his attention to Jordan’s car as the valets opened the two rear doors simultaneously.  He hadn’t told Lynda about Marcus’ deceit, or about Oliver Jordan’s intention to take over Waterford Holdings.

Lawrence smiled as the Jordans made their way up the short walk to the front door of Red Terrace.  “Mister and Mistress Oliver and Constance Jordan, and their daughter Olivia,” Simpson announced as the trio neared the waiting Waterfords.

“Oliver,” Lynda said as she leaned in and gave the older man a double-kiss; she did likewise with Constance and Olivia.

“Waterford,” Oliver Jordan stated coolly as he clasped the man’s hand.

“Jordan,” Lawrence replied curtly with a nod.

“Isn’t Trevor with you?”  One of Ophelia’s twin girls asked rather imprudently for Lawrence’s taste.

“He is coming with his date, dear,” Constance replied as the trio passed through the receiving line and into the house.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lynda asked her husband.

“That’s only the beginning, my love,” Lawrence replied.

“You need to stop with the weeping,” Kerstin chided from the passenger seat of Leticia’s car, “if that make-up runs one more time there won’t be anything I can do.  You’re going to be sad-clown in all of the pictures.”

“Do you want me to try to be funny, like you?” Leticia snapped.  “I’m sorry, Kerstin, I just don’t know why I’m even going to this thing.”

Kerstin pivoted in her seat, “listen, from what you told me it sounds like it was a total accident.  And that guy had a gun and he probably would have killed you if he didn’t slip.  You even said he fired it!”  She gestured to Leticia, “if you don’t go then people are going to know that something is up.”

“I don’t know how I can go and be happy and not think about the man who died.”

“The bad man who died, Leticia.  Bad man.  That makes a difference.  And he might have died whether you were there or not.”

The car stopped at a corner and Leticia turned to look at her, “do you really believe that?”

Kerstin opened her mouth and it hung there for a moment, “I…  I don’t know.  But I know that you’re my cousin and I don’t want you to get in trouble for trying to protect the town from Oswald Glendale.  I believe what you said about his plan to…  I dunno…  dose everyone with some drug.”

Leticia shook her head, “I don’t know how it works, but it seems to make people listen to him.  Like after I talked to John the first time he was planning to help me convince Sarah that Oswald was dangerous and then, after Oswald gave him this thing, he was totally an Oswald groupie.”

“Creepy.  Don’t let him near my drinks tonight, okay?”

“What?” Leticia said absently.

“Oswald, don’t let him near my drinks tonight, okay?”

“Oh my God, Kerstin…  he’s going to be there!”

Kerstin frowned, “well yeah, probably, Leticia.  He’ll be there with the Prices.  They all got invited.  Didn’t you think about that?”

“Not really,” Leticia said, “I don’t know if I can do this…”

“Are you feeling better?” Jason asked as he watched Kaitlyn Godspeed return from the kitchen walking more upright than he’d seen all morning.

“A bit, for sure,” she replied.  “Did my Mom call?”

Jason shook his head, “not so far, the phone never rang again.”

She flopped down on the couch beside him, “figures.”

“Why do you say that?” Jason asked.

“Today is the big Waterford wedding,” Kaitlyn replied, “she’s probably up there sucking up to the Waterfords and the Jordans and the rest of them.”

“My family got invited to that thing, too,” Jason stated.  “Not everyone there is a snob.”

“I know,” she said, “my Dad got invited, too.  But just because he’s the police chief.”

“Just your Dad, you didn’t get invited too?”

She chuckled, “technically I got invited too.  I mean, to the reception afterward, not to the actual wedding.”

Jason flipped his wrist up and looked at his watch, “that part’s probably over by now anyhow.  All that’s left is the reception.”

He was smiling broadly when she turned and looked at him.  “No,” she said having obviously read his mind.  “Not after last night.”

“Come on!” He said, “when are you going to get another chance to see the inside of Red Terrace?”

“I can buy a magazine and see it any time I want to,” she quipped.

Jason pushed himself up off the couch and held out his hand, “you owe me,” he said plainly.

“What are you talking about?”

“If it wasn’t for me you’d have woke up in a ditch this morning, right?  Well, I think that’s worth a trip up to Richie Rich Drive for the evening.”

Kaitlyn groaned, “fine.  But I’m not wearing a stupid dress.”

Kerstin Waterford leaned against the wall just inside the main garden doors of Red Terrace while Leticia stood fully in the doorway looking out at the crowd of people who gathered for the reception of Marcus and Tish LeBrandt.  “Did she leave?”

“Uh, nope.”

“Balls,” Kerstin replied before turning her head and spying her grandmother walking down the hall toward the door; she winced.  “Sorry Granny,” she said.

Her grandmother shook her head, “you girls should be out socializing not lurking in a doorway.”

“She’s lurking,” Kerstin said poking her thumb at Leticia, “I’m full on hiding.”

Eileen Waterford continued on past the girls and after she was far enough away Leticia stabbed Kerstin in the rib with a finger.  “Ow,” Kerstin exclaimed.

“Well that’s what you get for calling me a lurker, you know she really believes that kind of stuff.”

A smile spread across Kerstin’s face, “yes, yes I do.”

Leticia looked out the door and into the crowd, “oh, Olivia, Kerstin would love to talk to you…” she said, far too softly for anyone to have heard, but by way of example to Kerstin of the power that she had to plunge the other woman into her own personal hell.

“I actually know you wouldn’t do that because you hate her too,” Kerstin said.

“Maybe I don’t anymore,” Leticia said, “it’s been years since I’ve seen her.  And I did hire her brother to seduce my father’s widow so we’re, like, family or something.”  She shook her head, “oh my God, I actually did do that…  what is going on with my life?”

Kerstin laughed in spite of herself.  “I can’t believe you just said you were like family with a Jordan.”

“I know, I need a drink.”

“Oh, good idea.  Get me one while you’re out there.”

“What?” Leticia asked.

“I’m not going out there.” Kerstin stated.

“Are you kidding me?  I’m not going alone, Kerstin.  Oswald is out there somewhere with Sarah and the rest of the Prices.  Do you even know what they think of me?  When I was up at the estate I acted like a complete head case.”

Kerstin sighed, “fine.  Where’s Olivia?”

“Crap.  I lost her.”

“Is everything okay?” Sarah Price asked as she leaned against the shoulder of Oswald Glendale.

The man nodded but continued to look through the reception crowd.  “I’m fine, I just got some bad news this morning.”

Sarah made a sad face, “I’m sorry, my darling.”

“I am too, it is going to force me to change my plans quite a lot,” Oswald replied, still looking at the crowd rather than Sarah.

“Are you sure you don’t want to dance?”

Oswald turned and looked at Sarah with a stern frown on his face, “yes, Sarah, I’m sure.  Now will you please stop talking…”  He stood and scanned the faces in the crowd again.

“I…  I’m sorry,” Sarah said, sounding hurt.

Oswald looked down at her.  He took her chin in his hand, “I’m sorry, my love,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.  It has just been a stressful day.”

“Do you want to go?”

Oswald shook his head, “no, I have unfinished business to deal with,” he said, “and I think I might be able to deal with it tonight.”

He looked back out across the crowd and spied Leticia McKinelle walking toward the bar.  He looked at Sarah, smiled and said, “actually, I think that dance sounds like a great idea.”

“What do you want?” Leticia asked.

“Booze,” Kerstin replied.

“You are the most unhelpful person I know.”

“Wow, you are hostile today,” Kerstin replied, “okay, I’ll have a White Russian.”

“Gross.”

“Hold off on the judgment there, heh?”  Kerstin quipped, “I’m keeping the Oswald vigil, you get the drinks.  We’re a team, you know.  Wah!”  Kerstin squealed as she turned her head and flinched reflexively by throwing her hands in front of her face.

“Kerstin Waterford,” Olivia Jordan said as she walked up to the bar.

“I let my guard down for one friggin’ minute,” Kerstin whispered to Leticia, “oh, Olivia,” Kerstin said while mentally flipping a coin to decide whether to use the muscles in her mouth to smile, or to use the muscles in her finger to properly greet Olivia Jordan.  She smiled.  “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk before now.  Are you back in Emerald Heights to stay or just taking a break from pulling bread out of Asian children’s mouths?”

“I’m visiting; just here for this and Daddy’s fundraiser next weekend” Olivia replied, “how about you?  Are you still enjoying being the little rich girl with a pauper’s heart that you think is so cute?  I heard you had some man trouble recently.”

Kerstin took a quick step forward and balled her fists at her side.  Leticia spoke her name which caused her to rock back on her heel but she continued to stare down Olivia, “what do you know about that?”

“Just that Daddy says that Southeast Asia isn’t the only place that Jordan Enterprises is expanding,” she smiled and scrunched up her nose.  “You know it was inevitable, Kerstin.  There’s nothing that you or anyone else can do to stop my family from getting what we want.  Your sister had the right idea, you should learn from her…  marry now and get rid of the name Waterford while it still has a little value left in it.”

“Screw you,” Kerstin said and turned away from Olivia.  “Give me that drink,” she said to Leticia, who obliged.  She brought it to her lips and then stopped.

“Hey, Olivia,” Kerstin said turning back to face the woman, “did you know it’s an open bar?”

She threw the drink in the other woman’s face.

• Leticia McKinelle followed Oswald Glendale to a secret laboratory where he is cooking up some weird concoction.
• Oliver Jordan hatched a plan to take over Waterford Holdings by way of foreclosure.
• Frank Denzre admitted to Lawrence Waterford that he was being paid to spy on Lawrence’s eldest daughter, with whom he is in a relationship.
• Frank also outed soon-to-be-Waterford-son-in-law Marcus LeBrandt as a Jordan spy as well.
• Kirk Waterford went to speak with Senator Charles Taylor.
• Police Chief John Godspeed and attorney Elizabeth Marshall left Emerald Heights for Los Angeles to defend Duncan Marshall against a murder charge.

“It wasn’t like I had much of a choice but to go through with his demands,” the senator stated.

Kirk Waterford shook his head, “no one is blaming you, Chuck.  The damage hasn’t been done yet.”

Senator Charles Taylor sat in the high backed leather chair across from his old friend and sighed, “if I’d known what you had on Jordan from the beginning none of this ever would have happened.”

“I’ve known that Oliver Jordan was going to make a move on Waterford Holdings for years.  He’s been circling, picking off other businesses across the state; the businesses of my friends.  And I’ve sat by and watched and done nothing to stop it.  It was my foolish pride that kept me from coming here and putting a stop to it.”

“What happened between us, happened a long time ago, Kirk.  We were both younger men, then; and neither of us was smart enough to know better than to blinded by pride.”  The senator stood and tossed back his drink.  “Another?” He asked, raising the brandy decanter in the air.

“Please,” Kirk replied.  “I’ve got my driver.”  As the senator poured, Kirk continued, “has there been any word on your wife?”

Charles Taylor shook his head, “not so far.  Jordan’s man Custone told me that he ‘had information’ that he would give me once this business with Waterford is through.”  He swished the remaining brandy in his own glass around and then tossed it back in a single gulp.

“Kidnapping a man’s wife is extreme even for Oliver Jordan,” Kirk added.

The senator chuckled slightly, “you know the damnedest part of the whole thing?  I owe the son of a bitch a debt.  I never knew how much I loved Vivian until all of this.”  He paused, looking contemplatively through the glass of brandy, “Washington is hard on a marriage.”

“So is Emerald Heights,” Kirk added, swallowing his drink and pushing himself up out of the chair.  “We can count on you, then, tomorrow to back our play against Jordan?”

The senator nodded, “you can count me in.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Olivia Jordan moaned as she stepped out of the gate and into the concourse at Stanley-Carter Airport in Emerald Heights.  “First I have to fly all the way from God damned Singapore on some commercial plane all cooped up with other people’s germs and then my friggin’ father isn’t even here to pick me up?”

“He is waiting in the car Miss Olivia,” the tall thin man replied.

She scowled, “he, like, can’t walk in to greet his only daughter when she flies half way around the world after making him a hundred million dollars?”

“Would you like me to get your bags, M’lady?”

She stopped her feverish, laser-guided walking and spun around on the man, “what did you think we were doing, catching up?  Of course I want you to get the bags.  Jesus Christ, what else did you think you were here for?”  She snapped back around and continued walking toward the exit; exasperatedly she huffed, “I miss servants who don’t speak English.”

The sun had set on Leticia McKinelle.  Her hands still gripped the steering wheel of her car in spite of the fact that the engine hadn’t been turned on in hours.  She continued to stare at the building – the laboratory – that Oswald had set up in Emerald Heights.

She kept running his words over and over in her head “I will never lose her again.”  She didn’t know what they meant, but the sound of his voice had sent chills down her spine.  She knew that he was dangerous and she’d seen it with her own eyes.

“But who’s going to believe me?”  She said, her voice barely a whisper.  “I have no proof.  It is his word against mine and…  and he has some way to enthrall people.”

“The brother was resistant,” she said, repeating the words that Oswald had spoken to the other man. “He means John…  he did something to him.  Dosed him with something…  something that he makes here in this lab.”

“Just enough to keep my ex-wife from ruining things,” she parroted him again.  She chewed on her lower lip, “just enough of what?”

“You!”  She said, shouting across the room and over the loud music.

“Aw, fuck.”  He said.  “What do you want, Kaitlyn?”

“I want to talk to you,” she said, her words slurred by the alcohol she had consumed.  “I want to talk to you, fucking Jason Marshall…  about your murderer brother.”

“Don’t you think I get enough of this shit at school?”

“My Daddy is in Califin… Califon… Califinornia trying to save your brother’s ass from the electric chair, bucko.”

“My brother and sister are there, too,” Jason replied.

“Your murderer brother and his sister lawyer…  sawyer lister…  what-effing-ever,” Kaitlyn corrected, with a pointing gesture that was punctuated by the slosh of booze from the red plastic cup in her left hand.  “Shit,” she said.

“Sit down, sloppy drunk girls are not attractive,” Jason said, hooking his arm under hers and leading her to a bench just outside the patio doors.

“Eff you,” she said pushing her face into his.  “I’m not a sloppy drink…”

Jason shook his head, “drunk.  And yes you are.”

“I have to stay with my Mom while my Dad is gone,” she said, suddenly sounding sad.  “My Mom is such a tool.  She wants me to be a girly girl and be all like her…” she breathed in slowly and then exhaled in a single quick breath, “do you like your Mom?”  She asked, then her eyes widened, “oh…  shit,” she said, drawing out the word for several seconds.  “Your Mom’s dead… I forgot.”

“Missing,” Jason corrected.

Kaitlyn lolled her head to the side, “for ten years?  Come on.”  She brought the red cup to her lips again to drink, but found it empty.  She threw the cup to the ground and moaned slightly, “I gotta go home now.”  She attempted to stand and immediately stumbled back down on to the bench.

“Oh Jesus, let me help you,” he said.  Jason hooked his arm around her and hauled her to a standing position and began to walk with her toward the front yard, “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he muttered to himself as they neared his car.

“Princess.”

“Daddy,” Olivia Jordan said as she slid into the back of the limousine. “That plane flight was hell.”

“I’m sorry, sweetness, both of the Jordan Enterprises jets are in getting painted with the new livery.”  Oliver said by way of explanation.  “That was poor planning on someone’s part.”

“Someone who, Daddy?” She said through pursed lips.

“Not someone who will ever get to make that same mistake again.  I doubt they even have phones where he’s working now.”

Father and daughter shared a laugh as the car began to move.  “I can’t believe you made me come home for this thing,” she whined.

“Your mother wanted to see you, too.” Oliver reminded, “and the charity ball is next weekend.”

“I could have come then,” Olivia said, “you know how I feel about the Waterfords.”

“I know, Princess, and that is precisely why I wanted you to be here.”  Oliver grinned across the car.  He popped open a bottle from the little fridge that was built into the side of the car.  He poured out a glass of champagne for each of them and handed one to Olivia, “after tomorrow, my sweet, Waterfords will be nothing more than a name in the history books of Emerald Heights.”

“Oh Daddy,” Olivia said as she leaned forward in her seat, “do tell!”

Kerstin stood in the corner of the sitting room at Red Terrace and watched the bulk of the Waterford family sharing after-dinner pleasantries in a manner that she was accustomed to.  These were usually evenings filled with business chatter from the men, society goings on by the women and the bored wails from the children until they were released into the rest of the house to play.  Kerstin was lamenting her graduation from the latter group as she took in the gathered crowd over the rim of her wine glass.

As she stood she noticed her father glance over at Marcus for what was not the first time, and cast him a glance that made her curious.  No one else seemed to notice and no one else seemed to be in on whatever it was that her father was feeling because no one else seemed to regard him with any more or less interest than was usual.

Ophelia, her only blood-related aunt on the Waterford side, had avoided her entirely since the exchange that they’d had in the dining room earlier in the afternoon.  There had been an awkward hush that had fallen over the sitting room when she had finally joined the family after helping Esther set the table for dinner.  It had caused her to smile broadly and lock eyes with her aunt for only the briefest moment before the elder woman looked away.

She had turned her attention out through the large, open double doors and was watching the younger Waterford grandchildren run and play in the grand foyer of Red Terrace when her father’s voice caused her to start.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

“I was just watching the kids,” she replied, “I remember doing that…” she turned and looked at her father with a sideways smile, “I miss doing that.”

Her father chuckled, “you wouldn’t fit into some of those crevasses anymore, my dear.”

“I’d love to try,” she said, giving a quick glance over her shoulder as one of the girls squealed and dashed away from her brother.

“Listen, have you talked to Frank today?” Her father asked.

“Yes, first thing this morning before he left the apartment, why?”  She asked.

“He came to see me this morning,” Lawrence stated and again Kerstin saw him cast that strange glance at his soon-to-be son-in-law, Marcus LeBrandt.

“What about?”

“Uh…” Lawrence said, “oh, nothing really.  Just a…  business tip he said I should know about.”

“Daddy?” She asked.

“Yes, my dear?” Lawrence replied.

“Why are you lying to me?”

“No,” she slurred from the passenger seat of his car.

“What now?”  Jason asked.

“Not my Mom’s place.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m drunk.” She said matter-of-factly, “and she would murder me.”  She rolled her head over on the headrest to look at him, “sorry I didn’t mean that.”

“Stop it,” he said, “so where do you want to go?”

“My Dad‘s,” she said, “I have a key.” The final word lasted a good five seconds as she drew it out.

“Won’t your Mom get mad about that?”

“Not as mad as if I show up…” she stopped talking and suddenly swallowed hard several times in a row.  Jason was briefly worried about the interior of the car.

“…smashed off your face?” He offered.

She nodded wildly.  “Yeah, that.”  She continued, “so take me to my Dad’s place.”

“I’m not your chauffeur,” he said, “but it happens to be more on my way anyhow.”

“Where are you staying while your aunt is in Californica?” She asked as the car began moving forward again.

“California?” He said, correcting her, “I’m staying at home.”

“At your sister‘s house?”

He turned and looked at her, she was still looking directly at him, “that’s where I live.”

“Yeah, but you get to stay there alone?”

“Right now I do.  My niece and nephew are with Cassandra, so I have the house to myself.”

“Not. Fair.”

Kerstin heard the front door click and instinctively turned to make sure that one of the children wasn’t trying to make a break for it.  Instead she saw her grandfather making an uncharacteristically quiet entrance.  He smiled at his granddaughter but in a way that made her feel more like she caught him than that she was being greeted.

He took a few steps toward the sitting room and then gestured for her.  She glanced at her father, who noticed her movement, and then  looked out into the hall and raised an eyebrow.  “Granddaddy,” she said as she stepped up alongside the elder Waterford.

“Can you get your father for me?”

“I think I already…” she said, as Lawrence appeared in the hallway as if on cue.  “…did.”  She smiled.

“I need to speak with you,” Kirk said to her father and gestured toward the stairs.  That meant the upstairs den, which could only mean they were going to talk business.

“What’s going on?” Kerstin asked.

“Nothing,” Lawrence asserted.  “We just have some business to talk about.”

Kerstin nodded, “I know, that’s what I mean.  You’ve been shooting daggers at Marcus all afternoon,” she noticed that Kirk and Lawrence shared a look as soon as she said Marcus’ name, “and you said Frank came to see you today about something having to do with the business.  And then grandpa was missing at dinner and just gets home now and comes into the house without being announced?  Something is up and I want to know what it’s all about.”

“Kerstin, it’s nothing just go back…”

She set her jaw, “no.  You’re going to tell me what’s going on, or I’m going back down to the sitting room and I’m going to repeat everything that I just said to the whole family – and we’ll talk about it, too.”

“Kerstin Anna Waterfo…” Lawrence began, but Kirk held up his hand to stop him.

“Lawrence, we might as well tell her.  It has as much to do with her as it does anyone in the family.  Maybe more.”

Leticia‘s fingers felt stiff as she pulled them off of the steering wheel and pushed the door to the car open.  She slipped silently up to the edge of the building and returned to the window under which she had placed a crate.  She popped up and looked inside.

She could see the man that Oswald had been speaking with moving back and forth along a long bench covered in equipment.  She watched as he added compounds to the mixture that appeared to travel along the bench in stages, using what looked like a series of large eyedroppers he took measured amounts of this and that and added it to the processional until it dripped out of a tube at the end and into an otherwise non-descript beaker.

On his way back to the other end of the assembly line the man knocked over one of the beakers and it fell to the floor and smashed.  The scene played out silently in front of Leticia due to the panes of glass, but the man’s animated reaction told her he was not pleased.  She watched him dash out of her view as she continued to study the laboratory.

Her attention was wrenched from the scene when the sound of the door to the laboratory being opened reached her ears.  She gasped and tumbled from the crate and fell back into the shadows.

She watched the man dash passed the opening to the alley and she lept up and ran to where she could see out.  A large van was parked down the street and she could see the man throw open the doors and climb inside.  She looked toward the door to the laboratory; it was slightly ajar.

Without thinking about it she quickly rounded the front of the building and entered the laboratory.

Her senses were quickly assaulted with the eye-burning smells of chemicals undergoing various reactions with one another.  She could hear the drip of the formula that was being created at the end of the line of tubes and vessels of chemicals.  Two Bunsen burners were evaporating some part of the concoction at the beginning and in the middle of the process.

A paper clipboard sat on the edge of the workbench and she approached it.  It contained the header “Formula 7 Primer Reagents” and a long list of chemical names that she didn’t recognize and couldn’t pronounce.  She pulled the phone out of her pocket and dialed Kerstin Waterford.  The phone rang only once before going to voicemail.  “Kerstin, I’m in Oswald’s lab.  I mean, he’s got a lab!  He’s…  I dunno what he’s doing.  There’s a bunch of stuff here that looks like he’s making a drug…  maybe that’s how he’s fooling everyone.  I’m going to see what else I can find…  call me!”

Another stack of pages caught her attention and she headed toward them but was halted by a voice behind her.

“Who the hell are you?” It exclaimed.

She turned around to see the man she’d watched through the window.

And his gun.

“I…  I don’t understand,” Kerstin replied.

“Frank and Marcus were working for Oliver Jordan to get information to take over Waterford Holdings.”  Lawrence repeated.

“But I don’t know anything…”

“He didn’t know that,” Lawrence said.

She shook her head, “but Marcus has been around for years and I just met Frank.”

Kirk nodded, “but you met Frank right after moving out of Red Terrace, which Marcus already had covered…”

Kerstin’s phone began to ring; she pressed the cancel button without looking at it.  “So then…  Frank was…  he moved in to The Rockwell in order to spy on me?”

“Honey, I think he moved to Emerald Heights just to spy on you.”  Lawrence crossed the room and sat on the arm of the chair in which Kerstin sat.  He rubbed her shoulder, “I’m sorry, Kerstin.”

“I still don’t understand,” Kerstin said.  “He said he was a businessman.”

“Kerstin, dear, he was lying to you.”  Kirk said.

“Now, Dad,” Lawrence said, “he did come clean in time to give us a chance to try to stop Jordan’s plans.”

“Oh come on, Lawrence,” Kirk replied, “he probably figured that there was nothing that could be done at this late an hour.  I bet you he never went back to that apartment after he left Red Terrace and he’s on a Jordan Enterprises jet to God knows where as we speak.  We’ll never hear from him again.”

“But…” Kerstin whispered, “he’s got a cat.”

“Leticia McKinelle,” Leticia said earnestly; she held her hands out in front of herself as clearly as she could.  “I’m Oswald‘s ex-wife.”

“Holy fuck!” The man said, “how did you find this place?”

“I followed him,” she said, “what’s going on here?”

“I’ll ask the questions!”  He exclaimed, “now tell me what are you doing here?”

“I…  I came here to see what he was doing…” She made an abbreviated gesture toward the equipment on the work bench, “I knew he was doing something…  something to people.  I had to find out what.”

A crackling noise behind her made both of them turn their attention to the contraption that was brewing up the Formula 7 Primer.  “Shit,” he said, calling her attention back to the gun.  He jerked the gun to the side in an indication for her to move out of his way; she did.

She watched as he sped over to the contraption and added another measured dose of one of the chemicals to one of the beakers suspended above the Bunsen burner.  “That was close,” he said turning back toward her, “this is very delicate stuff.”

“What is it?” She asked.  “I read the clipboard…  what’s Formula 7?”

“This is,” he said, “well, the Primer at least.  The Activator part of the formula is already synthesized.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“No, I don’t suppose you would, would you?”  He turned his attention back to the formula, adding another squirt of one of the elements into the reaction where it was called for; the gun still trained, although absently, on Leticia.

“What does it do?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he said, “that’s…  it’s a secret.”

“It’s makes people compliant,” she defiantly.

“How did you know…” he said as he spun half-way around.  His foot caught a piece of the beaker that he’d broken earlier, and forgotten about, and slipped out from underneath himself.  He pitched backward and the gun was suddenly aimed at the ceiling.

Leticia flinched a step back and bumped into a stool.  She wheeled around and grabbed the stool and held it in a defensive position as she watched the man’s arms pinwheel wildly as he lost his balance completely.

He hit the ground with a thud that was drowned out by the sound of the gun going off.  Leticia screamed and threw the stool forward in fear.  The stool flew toward the workbench and crashed into the glass vials and beakers and tubes and sent the whole thing tumbling to the ground.

One of the Bunsen burners was pulled over in the tumbling wreckage of scientific equipment and immediately the entire framework burst into flames.

Leticia ran.

• Oliver Jordan hatched a plot to take over Waterford Holdings by buying its debt.
• Marcus LeBrandt helped Oliver Jordan get the information he needed to take over the company.
• Lawrence Waterford learned of Oliver Jordan’s plan from Frank Denzre.
• Leticia McKinelle discovered that her ex-husband is in a relationship with Sarah Price, one of her best friends.
• Leticia tried to convince Sarah and her family of Oswald’s dangerous nature.

Lawrence paced back and forth along the length of the narrow hall just inside the door of the old family house.  Dozens of pictures lined the wood panelled 17th century walls.  The gentle creaking of the floorboards told him with certainty that his father was descending toward the main floor.

“Lawrence?” Kirk Waterford said as he reached the bottom of the stairs.  “What’s going on?  I could hear you tracking around down here from my study.”

“Dad we need to talk,” Lawrence said while drumming the fingers of his right hand on the palm of his left.

Kirk frowned, “of course, son, come on up to the study and we’ll talk there.”

Lawrence shook his head, “no Dad, I’m expecting Kent Armitage to join us here in a few minutes let’s just stay down here.”

“Kent Armitage?”  Kirk said, a note of surprise in his voice.  “What’s gone on?  Is something wrong with the company?”

Lawrence nodded, “yes, Dad, I’m afraid that something is very wrong with the company.”

Kirk gestured for his son to follow him into the main floor parlour which was just off the main hall.  Kirk immediately walked to the small cart that stood in the corner of the room, he pointed the to carafe, Lawrence shook his head.  Kirk poured himself a drink, “okay, so what’s going on?”

“You know about the Ajax development?” Lawrence began, “the one that’s going to put those 100 units on the old Carter farm land?”  Kirk nodded, “in order to get the financing to buy the land and get the government studies done I had to leverage some pretty hefty loans.”

Kirk made a gesture resembling a shrug, “the 40 million.  I know about all of this.  Didn’t Kent’s people approve that months ago?”

Lawrence nodded, “they did.  And everything was proceeding on track…”

Lawrence was interrupted by the sound of the door knocker.  He raised his finger to his father, “excuse me,” he said and he dashed from the room toward the front door.  “Kent,” he said, opening the door, “come in.  I’m just filling my father in one what has happened.”

Kent shook his head, “I’m so sorry Lawrence.  Jordan had me over a barrel.”

Tears flowed unrestrained down Leticia McKinelle’s face.  Her hands gripped the steering wheel of her car so tightly she hadn’t been able to feel the palms of her hands for an hour.  She had lost track of how long she had been parked there, staring at the hedged entrance to the Price estate.

She was shocked, she was enraged, she was terrified for Sarah and the rest of the Price family.

“I know that he’s dangerous,” she said out loud to the empty interior of her car.  “I don’t care what he does or what he says… or who believes his lies.  I know he’s dangerous.”

She drew in a ragged, sobbing breath.  “I know that Oswald’s dangerous,” she repeated.  “And I’m going to stop him.”

Kerstin jogged up the steps to Red Terrace’s front door.  Her father had called her while she was in the shower and his message had confused her. She pushed through the front door without knocking – something that would annoy both the house staff and her step-mother to no end.  As she headed up the stairs toward the upstairs den that she knew her father favoured in the afternoon, she was halted by the sound of her name.

She spun around and spied her cousin, “Anders,” she said with forced cordiality.

“When did you get here?” He asked, his hand resting on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

“Just a minute ago,” she said, “I didn’t wait to be announced.”

Anders shook his head in what appeared to be disappointment, “looking for your father?”  Kerstin nodded, he continued, “you won’t find him up there.  He left about a half hour ago for the old family house to see Grandfather.”  He made an obvious show of looking left and right across the broad expanses of the house; as if he were watching something.  “I have been making sure that things go off smoothly here.”

Kerstin narrowed her eyes but she forced a smile, “well that’s good of you,” she said sarcastically.  “My Dad called me but I missed the call by a few minutes.  Do you know what it was about?”

Anders shook his head, “I don’t.  I have been busy.”

Kerstin rolled her eyes, “Of course.  Maybe I should head over to the old house; he obviously left for there right after he called me.”

Anders scoffed, “he and Grandfather would be talking about the business, Kerstin.  What could they possibly need with you?”

Kerstin quirked an eyebrow, “well I don’t know.  But he did call me, Anders.”  She began to make her way back down the stairs.  “I’m sure that he didn’t call to have me come over here and pretend to oversee the wedding setup… you seem to have that well under control.”

Kirk Waterford tossed back the contents of his drink and slammed the heavy-based glass down on the writing desk.  “So that son of a bitch is finally making an honest to God play for Waterford, heh?  We’ll see about that.”

Lawrence shook his head, “I don’t see what you can do, Dad.  He’s bought up all our debt…”

“…and I’ve put out some requests on Waterford’s behalf, sir.” Kent added. “But Jordan’s got someone putting the squeeze on any banker who even considers lending to you. Even Pam McKinelle said she couldn’t do it.  Someone told her boss that their charter would be revoked.”

“Listen boys,” Kirk said, “never count a Waterford out.”  He walked over to the two younger men and clapped them on the shoulders.  “Or an Armitage for that matter.”  He grinned, “this isn’t the first time Oliver Jordan has tried to take over Waterford.  He hasn’t beat me yet.”

He stepped back and turned to leave the room.  Lawrence spoke, “Dad, where are you going?  We need to figure out how we can save the company.”

“I’ve got to see an old… friend.  Give my apologies to your mother and the rest, I won’t be back for dinner.”

They heard the sound of the front door clicking closed and Kent turned to Lawrence, “you don’t think he’s going to kill Oliver Jordan, do you?”

Lawrence laughed.  “No,” he said.  “Well, probably not.  My father has been battling Oliver Jordan for forty years.  If anyone knows how to put a stop to one of his schemes it’s my Dad.”

“What are you going to do about your daughter’s fiance?”

Lawrence shook his head, “I don’t know what I’m going to tell the girls yet; Marcus has basically been a member of this family for years, and as for the other one…”

“The other one who? And the girls?  Both of them?” Kent asked, his brow furrowed.  “What does Kerstin have to do with any of thing?”

“Oh Kerstin?  Nothing.  But it was her boyfriend Frank Denzre who told me what Jordan was planning.  He was working for Jordan, too.”

She watched him turn his car down an alley from which there was no exit.  She pulled her car to the side of the street and waited.  It was only a minute before Oswald emerged and dashed for the front entrance of the building.

The tears were gone now; replaced by an audible, seething anger.  She had left him behind in California when she had fled back to Emerald Heights.  She had ended that chapter of her life.  What business did he have coming to her home town?  “He has nothing here,” she whispered to herself.  “He wouldn’t even know that Emerald Heights existed if it wasn’t for me.”

Her fists were clenching and unclenching involuntarily as she watched him enter the building.  She waited a moment before she popped open the car door and made her way to the side of the building.

There were no security cameras that she could see, but still she thought caution to be prudent.  She slid along the wall, down the alley, to a window that was perched just above her head.  She quickly found a crate that would give her the extra reach she needed in order to see inside.

As she lifted her head above the sill of the window she gasped out loud.  It was a lab; some sort of medical facility.  She couldn’t identify the pieces but she was sure that they were being used for something evil.

She jerked her head back as she saw Oswald appear in the room.  She raised her head high enough to be able to watch without being seen as another man joined Oswald.  The two were talking, but about what she couldn’t hear.  She reached a hand up and pushed on the window pane slightly but it wouldn’t budge.  She cursed under her breath.

She looked around and spied what appeared to be a vent a few feet away.  She jumped down from her crate and placed her ear at the vent.

“How many guests will be there?” She heard a man’s voice ask.

“Virtually the whole town,” Oswald replied, “is the concentration going to be high enough?”

“I can’t say for certain,” the man replied, “if there’s anyone who’s resistant like the brother was then you might have a problem.”

Oswald chuckled, “I really don’t need them all to be affected, just enough to keep my ex-wife’s stories from ruining things with Sarah.”

Leticia winced.  The unknown man spoke, “is she really worth going to all this trouble?”

She heard a loud smack that sounded like Oswald had struck the other man.  “She is perfect.  Perfect,” he repeated.  “And now that she’s mine I will never lose her…  nothing is too much trouble for Sarah, do you understand?  I will never lose her again.”

Leticia stood bolt upright.  “Again?” she whispered to herself.  She placed her ear back against the vent.

The voices were quieter this time.  “I’ll try to have as many vials as you need ready for you by the morning,” she thought the unknown man said, “and then you can just mix them with something communal.  Like in a punch bowl…”

“Miss Kerstin, please,” the woman said, “you don’t have to do that.”

Kerstin laughed, “Esther I think I can help you put out a few dinner plates.”

“Mr. Simpson wouldn’t be very happy about it.”

“Let me deal with Simpson,” Kerstin said, referring to the house butler who was a stickler for propriety.  “I’d like to see him dress me down in the middle of Red Terrace.”  Esther giggled.  “I have missed you, and the rest of the house staff.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” Esther replied.  “We have missed you, too.”

The two women made eye contact and Kerstin grinned broadly, “I forget, do the forks go on the left?”

“Yes,” Esther replied.

“Kerstin!” the volume of the voice almost caused her to toss the entire tray of forks across the room.

She spun on her heel.  “Aunt Ophelia,” she stated.

“What are you doing in here?”  She said looking with great scorn at Esther, “shouldn’t you be in the sitting room with the rest of the family until dinner is called?”

“I was just helping to set the table,” Kerstin replied.  She felt like a kid caught with her hand in the candy dish.  Ophelia was her father’s older sister, the middle child of Kirk and Eileen Waterford.  She was also the most prolific breeder among her generation of Waterfords with five children.  Two boys and three girls, including a set of twins.  They outnumbered the rest of the Waterford grandchild put together.

“Have you taken up employment here at the house, then?” Ophelia asked, though not really.  She continued to move toward Kerstin and the tray of forks.

“No, but I was just catching up with Esther and I wanted to…”

“Kerstin!” she actually flinched at the sound of her name being called out a second time.  When her father noted her reaction he continued, “what’s the matter?”

She smiled, “nothing Daddy,” she said as she carefully eyed her aunt.  “I was just helping Esther set the table.”

Lawrence smiled and shook his head at his daughter, “you don’t have to do that, Kerstin.”

“I know, Daddy, Esther told me that, but I wanted to catch up…  and you know me, I can’t just sit back and watch someone else work,” the words were directed at her aunt as much as at her father.

“Does that mean you’re staying for dinner?”  Lawrence asked.  Kerstin nodded; Lawrence continued, “that’s excellent.”  He turned to Esther, “My father won’t be with us for dinner tonight, but mother will still be dining with us.  So the family house staff will be here as well.  Can you let Simpson know?”  Esther nodded and left the room immediately, no doubt happy to escape the Waterford family drama in the room.

“Where is father going to be?” Ophelia inquired finally turning to regard her brother.

“He had business to attend to this evening.  Don’t you worry about it,” Lawrence said.  He gestured for Ophelia to leave the dining room, “the rest of the family is probably missing your presence in the sitting room, sister.”  She turned back toward Kerstin and then looked at Lawrence again, “Kerstin, if you’d be good enough to join us?  When you’re finished here, that is,” he said as he looked Ophelia straight in the eye.

Kerstin smiled broadly; “yes, sir,” she replied, “nice talking to you aunt Ophelia,” she added as the woman scowled at her over her shoulder.

“This is it, right here,” Kirk said from the backseat of the stretched Town Car.  The driver obligingly pulled over.

Kirk stepped out of the vehicle and made his way to the front door.  He tugged at the edge of his suit jacket before pressing the doorbell button.  The evening had begun to encroach on Emerald Heights and he could see the light come in the hall that lead to the entrance before the door itself was opened.

The man in the doorway started slightly at the sight of him.  It had been many years since they’d spoken, many years since they’d seen eye to eye.  But a mutual adversary makes a strong ally.

“Kirk Waterford,” the man announced, “would you believe I’ve been expecting you?”  He gestured for Kirk to enter.

Kirk chuckled slightly as he stepped inside, “as a matter of fact, Chuck, I wouldn’t believe anything else.”

• Tish Waterford and Marcus LeBrandt were engaged.
• Oliver Jordan infiltrated Waterford Holdings and managed to purchase Lawrence Waterford’s debt with the intention to ruin him through foreclosure.
• Leticia McKinelle‘s ex-husband Oswald Glendale came to Emerald Heights and fell in love with Sarah Price.
• Duncan Marshall was arrested for the murder of Californian fashion designer Claudio Breza.
• Leticia’s father Richard died and left his estate to his young widow Clara; to the exclusion of his children.
• Leticia, feeling that the will is a fake, enlisted Trevor Jordan to help prove that the will is fraudulent.
• Frank Denzre began dating Kerstin Waterford.

“I can’t believe the big day is here already,” Lawrence Waterford said as he watched the myriad workers moving through the gardens at Red Terrace.

“What day?”

“Tish’s wedding, it just seems like yesterday that the engagement was announced,” he said to his wife.

“It has been six months, Lawrence.  And, you do know that the wedding is tomorrow, right?”

He chuckled, “yes I do, Lynda.  But it’s less than 24 hours away…  and… listen, I’m being a father here, can you just let me have this moment?”

Lynda smiled back at him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Yes dear,” she said quietly.

He drew in a deep breath and straightened himself.  “I’m not wild about Oliver Jordan coming to this thing.”

“Oh Lawrence, not this again,” she signed.  “It’s a town function, that’s how it works.  They invite us to their events and we invite them to ours…  you would miss the Hallowe’en fundraiser the Jordans put on every year if they didn’t invite you.”

Lawrence frowned and turned to his wife, “when we go to the Hallowe’en thing we always leave a check for ten grand…  what do you think the chance is that Jordan is going to do the same tomorrow?”

Lynda chuckled, “I wouldn’t hold my breath, but you know what I mean.  It’s a matter of being civil.  You two are the most powerful men in Emerald Heights, you have to be able to be in the same room as one another without it coming to fisticuffs.”

“I could take him,” Lawrence stated grinning.

“He’s in his sixties, dear, yes, you could probably take him,” Lynda shook her head.

“Probably?  What’s this probably?”

“Okay, you could absolutely take him, my love.”

“Damn right.”  Lawrence stated giving a curt nod of his head.

Frank Denzre watched Marcus LeBrandt look over his shoulder twice as he approached.  “Hey man,” he said jovially as he sat down at the small round table.

“Jordan’s man Custone said we weren’t supposed to meet in public,” Marcus said conspiratorially.

Frank quirked an eyebrow, “you’re marrying my girlfriend’s sister tomorrow… we’re gonna run into each other from time to time.”

Marcus laughed, “your girlfriend?  Seriously?  She’s not your girlfriend, bud, you were paid to hook up with her.”

Frank set his jaw, and glanced across the room, for the first time feeling self-conscious about being seen with Marcus, “I was paid to get access to her apartment and get information about Waterford – which she didn’t have, by the way,” Frank stated, “but… I like her…” he shook his head, “why am I explaining myself to you?”

“Dunno, you’re the one who called me,” Marcus said flatly.

“Are you going through with it?”

“Marrying Tish?  Why wouldn’t I?”

Frank’s brow furrowed slightly, “because you gave Oliver Jordan the information he needed in order to take her father’s company away from him.”

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with anything?  She’ll still be a Waterford and I’ll be the head of Waterford Holdings when it’s all said and done.  Sounds like a couple great reasons to marry her to me.”

Leticia drove up the driveway at the Price estate and pulled her car to a stop next to one that she recognized as John Price‘s.  She smiled, happy to know that she would have an ally in her crusade to save her friend Sarah from the clutches of her psychotic ex-husband.

She smoothed the folds of her dress as she stood, looking up at the large portico that made up the front of the Price home.  She always felt underdressed when she visited the Prices, though she suspected that everyone did when they visited the homes of internationally famous fashion designers; especially when they bought their clothes off the rack.

She made her way to the front door and pressed the doorbell; the tune it played was a piece that had been written specifically for the Prices and it showed.  Their family had a characteristic up-beat, good-natured quality that she often envied.

Winifred, the long-time housekeeper of the Price family answered the door with her usual cheerfulness.  She gestured for Leticia to enter and asked if she was expected.  “No,” Leticia replied, “I just popped in to talk to John.”

“Very good, Ma’am,” the woman replied.  “I’ll fetch him presently.”

Leticia nodded and watched the older woman walk the short distance across the foyer and open a door that she knew lead into the great room.  As soon as the door was opened she could hear the sounds of laughter and reverie coming from within.  Her immediately reaction was to smile at the sound of people having fun, but as the laughter hung in the air she was able to pick out three distinctly male laughs: Victor Price’s, John Price’s and her ex-husband Oswald Glendale’s.

Her heart began to sink and a sense of dread began to wash over her.

Before she had a chance to react she heard the laughter halt.  A moment later John Price, followed closely by Winifred, who scooted off to parts unknown, exited the great room and walk toward her.  “Leticia, what a pleasure,” he said and leaned in to hug her.

Caught off guard she hugged him back half-heartedly.  “John,” she said, “is there somewhere that we can talk?”

“Absolutely, come in, the whole family is here.” He said gesturing toward the great room.

“No, I mean, I’d rather talk alone.  About what we discussed a few weeks ago.  About…  Oswald.”  She said, trying to convey, without using all the words, what she meant.

“Oh that?  That was nothing,” he said waving his hand in the air, “now come in and have a drink.”

She grab him by the sleeve.  “What are you talking about?”  She looked at him directly, “John, I told you that he tried to operate on me.  He wanted to change my face!”

John smiled, “Leticia, I talked to him about it and he said that it was just a big misunderstanding.  That you blew the whole thing out of proportion.  He really is a great guy.”

“John!  You have to listen to me!  He is dangerous and he is going to hurt your sister!” Leticia said having not realized that she had begun to raise her voice.

Victor Price appeared at the doorway of the great room, “is everything okay here?  John?  Leticia?  What’s going on?”  The rest of the Price family and Oswald were soon standing in the foyer of the Price estate as well.

“I came to warn you…” Leticia said, “all of you.  About him,” she said as he pointed an accusing finger at her ex-husband.  “He’s lying to all of you…  he’s got you tricked somehow.  You’ve all got to believe me!  It’s not…  he’s not who he says he is…  he tried to…  he was going to…”  She began to cry.  She turned and ran out of the Price house, hopped into her car and sped down the driveway.

Mary looked at Oswald, “I wonder what’s gotten into her?”

Oswald turned to Mary Price and shrugged, “this is exactly what happened when we got divorced.  She just couldn’t take it.  Obviously the strain of her father’s death is having the same effect.”

“Such a shame, she seemed so put together,” John Price said and shook his head.  He clapped Oswald on the shoulder, “now, let’s say we get back to the story you were telling, eh brother?”

John Godspeed, Chief-on-leave of the Emerald Heights Police Department and current evidentiary expert for the Duncan Marshall defense team, rubbed his neck as he twisted his head left then right.  He had been pouring over the reports and details of the murder of Claudio Breza for what seemed like weeks.

He didn’t like what he found.  The Los Angeles detectives had done a good job of ferreting out the details of the case and documenting them in their reports.  The prosecution’s case was fairly straight-forward and, from his own experience, would be an easy sell to a jury.

He pushed himself back from the table and stood.  He took the papers that had become spread across the table’s surface and placed them back in the evidence box and snapped the lid back on it.  He took a quick glance at the cold grey walls before hefting the box under his right arm and making his way out into the officers’ bullpen.

He pulled out his phone and dialled Elizabeth Marshall.  “Ms. Marshall,” he said when she acknowledged the call with a cordial ‘hello’.

“John, I told you to call me Liz,” she replied.

“Fair enough,” he said, “I’ve just finished going over the primary evidence from the police reports.  I’ve been through every single document twice and I’m going to request a few copies of some things that I want to look at more closely.”  He sighed, “there’s a lot of evidence here that doesn’t look good for Duncan.”

“That was bound to happen, John.” She said, “he doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the murders, so all they were bound to find was traces of him all over the house and no way for him to account for his whereabouts.”

Godspeed hoisted the box up onto the counter of the evidence locker and rapt gently on the side of the window.  “What does he say about it?”  Godspeed inquired.

“He says that after he found out that his flight was going to be delayed that he went to get drunk at a bar,” Elizabeth replied.

“Can anyone there provide him with an alibi?” Godspeed asked.

“No so far,” she stated.  “I’ve canvassed the bar a couple of times looking for witnesses who might have seen him and so far no one recognizes my brother.”

Godspeed shook his head.  “For check-in,” he said as the evidence attendant appeared in front of him.  “John Godspeed, Marshall defense team,” it felt strange to him to not refer to himself as the Chief of Police, but he was certain that a small-town Chief would be scoffed at in the big city; plus, he was technically on leave.  “Sorry, Liz, I was just checking the evidence back in to the locker.”  The attendant returned moments later and slid a clipboard in front of him; he signed dutifully before turning and walking down the hallway.  “What about someone at the airline?”  Godspeed inquired.

“He never made it to the airport,” Elizabeth stated, “he learned about the delay from an automated call.”

“Damn,” Godspeed breathed, “it’s going to be hard to argue the case for a man without an alibi.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said.

Trevor listened at the door to the sobs coming from within.  He tapped lightly on the door and heard her feeble attempts to choke them back.  “Yes?”  She said quietly; although a full throated scream would have sounded quiet through the heavy wooden door.

He clicked the latch and pushed the door inward, “Clara, my darling,” he said breezing across the room.  “Don’t be sad,” he reached down and swept a tear away from her eye.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s just that…  I was thinking about this big house and Rich…  Richard and missing him.”

Trevor’s face didn’t change but he was definitely taken aback; her profession of feelings for the dead man surprised him.  He had been certain that the Widow McKinelle had been nothing but a gold digger searching for a free fortune.  He had thought that they’d had that trait in common.  “He was suffering,” Trevor said in an attempt to sound comforting, “now he’s at peace.”

He ran his fingers through her hair.  She sobbed again.  “There, there,” he said, pulling her up slightly and laying her head in his lap.  “Trevor’s here, my sweet,” he cooed.  “Everything is going to be okay.”

She wept softly and fresh tears wet her eyes.  “Can you get me one of my pills?”

“Of course,” Trevor said and slipped into the en suite bathroom.  He made the noise of opening and closing the medicine cabinet while slipping his hands into his pockets and pulling out a plastic bag of little white pills.  He stepped back into the room, pill in hand, and filled a glass from the carafe on the trolley that customarily sat in the corner of the room.

She eagerly took the pill from him and, without hesitation, tossed her head back and swallowed the pill.

“There,” he said to her, leaning down and kissing the side of her face, “you’ll be feeling better in no time at all.”

“Frank?” Lawrence Waterford said with some surprise as he entered the drawing room of Red Terrace.  The visit had been unexpected and unannounced and when a member of the house staff had told him that a “Mr. Denzre” was waiting to speak with him it took him a few moments to realize who they’d meant.

“Mr. Waterford I apologize for showing up without calling first,” Frank said, taking a few steps toward Lawrence.

“No, no,” Lawrence said, sensing the urgency in the young man’s voice, “and call me Lawrence.”

“Mr. Waterford, I’d rather you hear me out before you say that,” Frank said.

“What’s going on?  Is something wrong with Kerstin?”

Frank shook his head, “nothing at all.  She’s at home…  at her apartment, I mean.”  He turned and walked back toward the drawing room’s large desk.  Lawrence watched him pick up a leather attache case.

“Then I don’t understand.  Are you still coming to the wedding?”  Lawrence inquired.

“That’s sort of what this is about, sir,” Frank said, pulling a folder from the attache case.

“I don’t understand,” Lawrence said, “there’s something wrong with the wedding?”

Frank shook his head, “not exactly the wedding, Mr. Waterford, but…  the groom.”

“I don’t understand, Frank, you’d better start explaining.”

Lawrence watched as Frank sat in the lounge and proceeded to lay papers out on the large coffee table.  He recognized some of the papers with Waterford letterhead as memos and invoices for Waterford Holdings work and correspondence.  “What is all this?”  He asked lowering himself onto the lounge alongside Frank Denzre.

“This, Mr. Waterford, is all the information that Marcus gave to Oliver Jordan about your business and your business partners.”  He turned to face the other man, “he gave it to him, sir, so that Jordan could buy up your debt and foreclose on Waterford Holdings.”

If it was possible to be stunned without being at all surprised then that was exactly what Lawrence was feeling in that very moment.  “And how did you come upon this information?” Lawrence asked as he watched Frank Denzre very closely.

Frank’s eyes closed and his head lowered ever so slightly before he looked directly at Lawrence Waterford, “because I was working for Oliver Jordan, too.”

John Godspeed weaved his way through the LAPD officers’ bullpen on his way to the desk of detective Kevin Burgess who was making copies of the reports that he had requested.  He was tired and stiff from his long day of sitting in the evidence room and reading and scrutinizing the long array of documents that had been in the evidence box.  He wanted nothing more than to just get the copies of the files and head back to his hotel room to turn on the TV and relax.

“John,” detective Burgess greeted him warmly.

Godspeed reached out and received the detectives hand it shook it cordially.

“I’ve got your papers all right here,” he said gesturing to a file laying on the desk.  “I just need to get you to sign this document that says that you’re taking the documents out and basically what’s in them.  Standard fare, I’m sure you’re used to.”

Godspeed nodded, “I don’t think it matters whether you’re in a big city or a small town the bureaucracy has found its way in.”  He took the pen, glanced at the page, and signed.  As he started to stretch back up his back creaked audibly.  “Oh,” he groaned and lowered himself back down.  “Can I?” He asked from his stooped over position while he gestured at Burgess’ chair.

“By all means,” Kevin Burgess replied, adding, “those chairs downstairs aren’t the most comfortable.”

“Comes with the territory, I think,” Godspeed replied.  “I’ll be fine.  It’s just a spasm.  At my age you get used to them.”  He raised his arms out over the desk and turned side to side trying to work the pain out of his back as was his custom.  In so doing he knocked over a picture on the detective’s desk.  “Sorry,” he said and righted the picture.

It was a picture of a man and a woman standing a small child, “your family?”

“My parents,” Burgess replied picking up the frame photograph.

“Your father was an officer?”

Burgess nodded, “yep, 15 years.  He was shot and killed in the line a year after this picture was taken.  Christopher and Mariella.” He said, gesturing to the pair in the photograph.  “They’re both gone now.”

“You look like your father,” Godspeed observed.

Burgess nodded and smiled, “thank you, Chief.”

“How is the lab setup going?” Oswald inquired into the phone.

A man’s voice replied, “not bad, I’ve pretty much got everything set up since the last time you were here.”

“Very good,” Oswald stated.  “I need more of the Formula 7 Primer.”

“You just got four vials the other day,” the male voice replied.

“The brother was resistant,” he replied.

“Very resistant if it took four vials,” the voice mused.  “How much do you need?”

Oswald contemplated, “how much can you have for me by tomorrow morning?”

“Probably eight or ten vials.”

“That’s not nearly enough, I need more.  Fifteen at least,” Oswald stated.

“What could you possibly need that much for unless you’re planning to dose an entire town?”  When Oswald didn’t reply the man continued, “are you planning to dose an entire town?”

Oswald smirked, “not the entire town.”

• Leticia McKinelle discovered that her ex-husband was in Emerald Heights and was dating her best friend Sarah Price.
• Duncan Marshall was accused of murdering Claudio Breza in California.
• Oliver Jordan purchased the bulk of Lawrence Waterford‘s debt from Kent Armitage.
• A young boy was involved in a fatal accident that left him with amnesia.
• Kerstin Waterford and Jehua Stanley shared a highly-charged moment in the store room at The P & Q.
• Trevor Jordan made a deal with Leticia McKinelle to dig up dirt on Clara Preston in order to defeat the will of Leticia’s father.

Leticia McKinelle slipped into Price through the loading dock; she didn’t want to encounter Sarah until she had a chance to talk to Victor, Sarah’s father.  It was clear to Leticia that Sarah’s mother, Mary, had already had the wool pulled over her eyes with regard to Leticia’s ex-husband Oswald and his intentions with Sarah, but she held out hope that she would find an ally in Sarah’s father; her employer.

She rounded a corner and spied Victor Price standing outside his office door.  “Mr. Price,” she called down the hallway.

As she stepped up alongside him he smiled, “my dear, Leticia, I told you to call me Victor.”

She nodded, “yes sir,” she said, “I wanted to talk to you,” she glanced back and forth at the two men who were standing beside Victor.  “It’s a private matter.”

He nodded, “of course, won’t you step in.”  He looked at the men each in turn, “excuse us gentlemen.”

Once the door was closed and Victor rounded the desk Leticia sat in the chair opposite him.  She leaned forward.  “It’s about Sarah…  and Oswald.”

Victor nodded, “oh yes,” he said clasping his hands together, “isn’t it wonderful?”

Her mouth hung open but no words escaped.

John Godspeed stopped as he walked down the aisle of the plane.  He took two steps backward and looked at the lone woman seated against the window.  “Liz?  Elizabeth Armitage?”

The woman looked up and smiled, “Chief Godspeed,” she said.  He nodded, “it’s good to see you,” she gestured toward the vacant seat.  “Sit please.”  He slipped into the seat, “it’s Marshall again, though,” she clarified, “since the divorce.”

“Guess it’s been that long, heh?  I didn’t know you were gonna be on this flight.”

She nodded, “I wanted to be there for the arraignment.”  She shifted slightly in her chair in order to be able to look more directly at the older man.  “But what are you doing on this flight, if I might ask?”

He shrugged, “I’ve got a feeling,” he said, “there’s more to this case than these Californians have discovered.”  He paused then added, “I didn’t know you did criminal law?”

She shook her head and chuckled, “I normally don’t.  But when it’s your brother you buy a book.”  She grinned and held up a copy of the California criminal code, “you brush up, and hop on a plane.”  She paused for a moment, “John, I’m sure that Duncan and Cassandra are grateful that you’re going to look into the case but,” she said, “how’re you going to get past the jurisdictional issue?”

He shook his head, “not sure, really.  I was gonna to appeal to the local DA for access.”

“Maybe I can help with that.”

“How?” He asked.

“Simple.  You’re now the chief forensics expert for the defense.”

“He just ignored me, just like I hadn’t said a damned word,” Leticia explained as she held the phone to her ear.  “I don’t get it.  I mean, I tried to tell him about Oswald and all I got was ‘he makes Sarah so happy’ and ‘what a wonderful fellow’.”

“He called him a fellow?”  Kerstin asked.

“Focus, Kerstin,” Leticia chided.  “Something is going on.  Sarah I get, she’s easy to convince, and Mary too because, well, Sarah’s got to get it from somewhere.  But Victor is a shrewd man, he’s smart and should be able to see through Oswald… but he’s not.”

“Did you tell Victor about Oswald’s plan…  about when he was going to operate on you.”

Leticia winced and pulled the phone away from her ear in reflex, “I tried…  but he just went on to some other topic.  It’s weird.”

“Yes, it is… what about John?”

Leticia replied, “I haven’t talk to John.”

“You have to, like, now.  Is he there?  In the office?”

Leticia nodded, although her friend couldn’t see it, “I think so.  He’s supposed to be.”

“Good, go talk to him.  He may be your only hope.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know something like ‘your sister is sleeping with a psycho-surgeon who redesigns women’s faces against their will’?  Y’know, or something along those lines…  you’ll figure it out.  I’ve gotta go… it’s time for work.”

“There’s an art to these things,” Oliver Jordan explained.  “When you are one blow away from defeating your mortal enemy on the field of battle you don’t just walk over and plunge the sword into his chest.  You take a moment to revel in the fact that yours was the superior strategy.  That you were able to best him, to unseat him from his horse, to crush his armies and then, in the penultimate moments of the great skirmish you have emerged as the victor.”

“I see,” Harry Custone said.

“No, you don’t,” Oliver continued, “because more important than taking the time to recognize all of this for yourself, Harry, is that you give your opponent the time to see it, too.  He must see it all from the side of the loser and to realize that he has been defeated, bested, crushed under the heel of a superior warrior… otherwise you might as well stab him in the back.”  He shook his head, “no, I want Lawrence Waterford to see the final blow come down on his head.”  He pressed his fingers-tips together and watched the gentle smoke from the lit cigar drift up from the ash tray.

“Nice,” Harry Custone replied genuinely impressed.  As a native of Emerald Heights Harry had watched Oliver Jordan’s influence spread across the town.  He’d watched as Jordan Manufacturing became Jordan Industries and slowly consumed company after company; then the buy-out of Stanley Enterprises that propelled the then-new, then-named Jordan-Stanley Enterprises to its status as the largest employer in all of Massachusetts.

But through it all the Waterfords had maintained social control of Emerald Heights.

“Have you decided when you’re going… finish him?” Harry asked, unable to find a better way to describe Oliver’s planned reveal.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Oliver replied and leaned forward to pick up a square card from the desk.  He tossed it at Harry who caught it handily.

Harry read the first line of the card and smiled.

You are cordially invited to the wedding
of our daughter Tish Waterford
to Marcus LeBrandt

Harry chuckled lightly to himself, “I see,” he said as he took a sip of the scotch, “and are you going to tell him at the same time that it was his future son in law who sold you the information?”

Oliver Jordan grinned, “it’s going to be a hell of a toast.”

“I’m glad this isn’t awkward for the two of you,” Gordon Stanley said clasping Kerstin Waterford and his son Jehua on the shoulder at the same time.  The three of them looked out across the bar of the P & Q at the slowly filling room.  “I was worried that it would be.”

“It’s kind of awkward that we’re having this conversation, Dad,” Jehua said slipping out of his father’s grasp.  He knew it had been a mistake to tell his father about his feelings for Kerstin.

Gordon laughed a belly laugh and pulled Kerstin in tighter, “Kerstin here doesn’t think so, do you Kerstin?”  He shook her playfully.

Jehua saw her smile at him sheepishly; Jehua smiled back and said, “let her go, Dad, you’re totally creeping her out.”

“Bah, you two are too serious for me anyhow,” Gordon quipped.  He zigged around the bar and threw his hands into the air, “Bruce!  You old so and so…”

“I’m so sorry,” Jehua said as they watched his father greeting patrons in his jovial way.

Kerstin shook her head, “no, it’s okay…”

“This really isn’t going to be awkward is it?”  He asked.

She looked at him and smiled. There was something missing in her eyes; they didn’t reflect the smile, they didn’t sparkle.  “No,” she said more softly than he’d have liked.

He toed the floor, “uh, okay then.  I mean, that’s good.”  He smiled back at her, “I was worried because I didn’t want to lose you…” his voice trailed off.

“…as… as a friend,” she added.  “Yeah, of course.  Me either.  You’ve become a great friend, Jehua.”  She seemed nervous and she twisted her thumb ring, “I… am glad that we can be…  friends.”

The two stood in silence for a few minutes before Kerstin added, “oh, you were going to tell me something before your father came along,” she smiled this time and Jehua immediately noticed the difference in the smile.  And ache crawled through him.  “What were you going to say?”

“Uh, oh…” he said, “just a bit of news.  Y’know that kid that was in the accident?  The kid that they didn’t know who he was…  well, my uncle Brentwood and aunt Gloria adopted him.  He’s a Stanley now… they call him James.  He’s quite the kid…  it’s funny, you’d swear he was one of us, he fits in so well…”  Jehua’s brow creased slightly, “are you okay?”  He asked.

“What?” She said shaking her head slightly, her chest was heaving heavily and she seemed short of breath, “I… I’m sorry.  I, uh…  don’t feel so well all of a sudden.  I’ll be right back”, she turned and walked away from him; he watched her rub her temples as she rounded the corner and disappeared from his view.

Trevor Jordan looked up from the elaborate menu that he held in his hand.  He watched Clara Preston sitting in a booth on the other side of the dining room.  He stood the half-folded menu in front of him and flipped open the pocket mirror that he’d laid on the table and checked himself out it in.  He flashed his reflection his most dashing smile.

Closing the mirror, he slid it back into his pocket, tossed the menu down onto the seat and made his way across the dining room.  He walked half-way passed Clara Preston, stopped and backed up.  “Excuse me,” he said, “are you dining alone?”  He knew that she was.

She smiled wanly, “yes, I am.”

He reached out his hand, “Trevor Jordan, yes, those Jordans.”  He winked and leaned down to kiss the back of her hand.  “It’s simply unacceptable for a woman of such beauty to dine alone,” he said, “may I join you?”

He could see a blush cross her cheeks, “by all means,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said as he slid into the booth.  He made an effort to look around the dining room before looking her in the eye, “so, do you come here often?”

Leticia swung herself in through the door of John Price’s office; her hand working as a hinge against the door frame.  She leaned, still holding the frame, and smiled at the man who sitting behind the desk.

Lord God he’s sexy, she thought to herself.  “Hey,” she said, releasing the door and stepping into the room.  “Busy?”

“Not really,” he said and stood while gesturing toward the chair across from him.  “What can I do for you?”

“Uhm,” she said as she slipped into the chair, “well, it’s not really business related.”

“Oh?” John said as he quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s about Sarah,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Leticia continued, “it’s about Sarah… and Oswald.”  She frowned.  “Do you know who he is?”

John shook his head, “just what my parents have told me,” he said, “I haven’t seen my sister in days.  She hasn’t been in to work this week.  And I haven’t met the guy.”

Leticia nodded her head slowly, “well,” she said, drawing out the word, “he and I used to be married.”

“Whoa,” John said, “that’s crazy.”

“That’s not even the half of it, John,” Leticia said, sliding forward in her chair.  “He’s…  deranged.  He’s crazy.  He planned to operate on me without my permission.”

“He did?  I thought he was a magazine author?”

Leticia shook her head, “what?  No.  He’s a plastic surgeon.  He was a world famous one…  but then his first wife died in the middle of a procedure that he was performing on her…  and he went…  I dunno…  he went crazy.”

“Why did you marry him?”

“I didn’t know…  I mean…  I knew that he was married, but he told me that he divorced his wife.  It wasn’t until his sister, Valerie, finally found out what he was planning to do and managed to break into the hospital operating room and save me.”

“Wow,” John breathed.

“He planned to turn me into his ex-wife,” Leticia said finally, “he was going to change my face to look just like her.”  She shook her head, “we have to stop him or I’m afraid he’ll do the same thing to Sarah.”

“We’re supposed to get together for dinner tomorrow night, the whole family.  I can tell her then…  I’ll take care of it.”

Leticia nodded, “good.  John, you have to be careful.  He’s a dangerous man and Sarah and your parents are totally taken in by him.”

“Don’t worry Leticia,” John said, “I won’t let this bastard hurt my sister.”

Leticia stood and turned toward the door.  She stopped and turned back and looked at John Price again; she smiled in spite of herself.  He looked up from his work and grinned, “what?”

“Nothing,” she said and turned back toward the door.

“Leticia,” John said and she turned back again, “this was not even close to what I thought you were coming in here to say.”

“Oh?” She said.

“Yeah,” he replied and shrugged slightly, “after this is over do you, maybe, wanna get dinner or something?”

Her smile broadened, “sure.”

Trevor and Clara laughed together.  “And so I said ‘how was I supposed to know that Faberge made more than just eggs?’”

Clara’s laughter increased.  Trevor continued, “so, Dad paid for the thing…  it was like eight billion rubles or something.  Yeltsin was pissed, but what can ya do?  I was like nine.”

“Oh, you’re so bad,” she said as she laid her hand on his arm.

He smirked, although not to anyone in particular.  He gestured for the sommelier to return to the table.  “Wait ‘til you hear about the time that I let Castro’s dog out…“  As the sommelier stepped alongside the table Trevor said, “another bottle of the same, please.”

“No, no,” Clara said waving her hand in the air, “we’ve had enough…  I should be going…  going home.”

Trevor leaned in close, as if he was trying to conceal his words from the sommelier, “I wasn’t planning to drink it here.”

“Oh, you!” She said, swatting at him playfully.  “So bad!”  She waved her hand at the man who remained stalwart while standing beside the time, “okay, okay, bring the bottle.  But we’ll take it with us.”

“Very good, sir,” the man said simply and left the table to retrieve the bottle.

• Leticia McKinelle learned that her ex-husband Oswald Glendale had come to Emerald Heights and was in a relationship with her best friend, Sarah.
• John Godspeed told Cassandra Marshall that he was going to follow up on her husband‘s arrest for murder in California.
• Trevor Jordan is deeply in debt to a man named Weston.
• Leticia was approached by Trevor Jordan who offered to help her get the goods on her father’s widow.
• A young boy is the sole survivor of an accident that leaves him with no memory and no family.

Kerstin was sitting cross-legged on her couch when the frantic knocking on her apartment door startled her.  She laid her journal aside and crossed the room toward the door; in the meanwhile the person on the other side of the door knocked three more times.

“Hold your horses!” She exclaimed.  Looking through the peep hole in the door she turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open, “Leticia?” She quirked her head to the side, “I was going to call you.  What are you doing here…  and why are you banging…”

Leticia breezed passed her and into the apartment; her purse, jacket and shoes basically exploded off her body.  “You won’t God damned believe it.  Simple…  it’s God damned crazy is what it is.  I mean, what could she be thinking?  You know…  she doesn’t know anything about him.  And then to not even say anything to me until…”

Kerstin walked up to her cousin cautiously, and took Leticia by both arms.  She gave the other woman a gentle shake, “what’re you talking about?  You seem to have skipped an important part…  y’know, the nouns.”

“The wha…  oh, it’s Sarah.  Kerstin, it’s Sarah.”

“Okay,” Kerstin nodded.  “What about Sarah?  She’s always been a little crazy, Let.”

Leticia shook her head, “no, you don’t understand…  she’s in love…  or says she’s in love with…  Oswald.”

“What?  Oswald… like Oswald-Oswald?”  Leticia nodded.  “Holy crap.  I mean, does she know who he is?”

Leticia shook her head, “I don’t know…  I think she didn’t.  Or maybe she did but didn’t let on. But she sure as hell doesn’t know enough about him…”

“Did you tell her?”

“I didn’t get a chance,” Leticia said, then she sighed.  “I didn’t really take the time.  Jesus, Kerstin, I haven’t seen him in months and then bam…  out of nowhere he’s here in Emerald Heights.”

“You have to tell her…  she needs to know what he did to you.”

“Why should you hafta go, Dad?”

“Because, Kaitlyn, I’m the police chief in this town and this has to do with one of the people that I’m sworn to protect.”  John Godspeed replied.

“You’re not sworn to protect them in California.”

He shook his head, “it doesn’t matter where, sweetheart.  This is my duty.  There’s something that doesn’t feel right about this case and I’ve gotta find out what it is.”

“But Dad, it’s all the way in Cali, how long are you gonna be gone?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks maybe?  I hope it don’t take longer than that.  I just need to look over the evidence and make sure that it’s all on the level.”

“Do I get to stay here by myself while you’re gone?”

The chief laughed, “absolutely not.  You can stay with your Mom for two weeks; it’ll do you both some good.”

Kaitlyn Godspeed rolled her eyes, “that’s so unfair.  I’m 16 now, Dad.  I’m old enough to stay by myself.”

“No, you’re not.”  He patted his daughter on the hand, “I know that you’re able to take care of yourself, sweetheart.  But two weeks is just too long.  And your Mom is looking forward to spending some time with you.”

“Ugh…  I bet she is.   If you come back and I look like some friggin’ debutante thing in hair clips and a dress then it’s all your fault.”

John Godspeed had an honest to goodness laugh, his hand slapped the table jollily, “I don’t think there’s much dangers of that.”

“So who is this guy that you’re going to help?”

“Duncan Marshall…  you remember him, don’t you?”

Kaitlyn nodded, “yeah, I go to school with his brother, Jason.  He’s a bit of a loser.  I hope this guy’s worth it, Dad… I’m gonna miss you.”

Kerstin watched Leticia throw up her hands in desperation.  She shook her head and scowled at the phone in her hand.  “That didn’t sound good,” Kerstin observed.

“No shit.  Duncan Marshall has been arrested and taken to California on murder charges and his sister is going to help with his legal counsel.”

Kerstin had read about the Marshall case in the paper the day before.  “His sister Elizabeth?”  Leticia nodded, Kerstin continued, “the one who was going to help you fight for your father’s estate.”

Leticia nodded again, “yep, that’s the one.  So I’m high and dry and totally screwed.”

“But didn’t you say that she couldn’t really help you without evidence in the first place?”

“Yeah.”

“So, maybe you’ll find the evidence that you need by the time she’s done in California.”

“It’s a murder case, God knows how long it could take before it’s done.”

“That’s true.  Hey, didn’t you mention that you were going to try to snoop around the Manor and see if you could find anything that proved that Clara manipulated the will?”

“Yeah but that didn’t work…  I had to go another route.”

“Well I pretty much called that…  you are not a ninja.  So, what’s this other route?”

Leticia cleared her throat, “uh…  didn’t you say that you were going to call me about something when I first came in?  What’s your thing?”

“Uhm…  never mind,” she said quickly. “We’re talking about you right now…  what’s this other route?”

“I hired a guy.”

“A private investigator?”

Leticia twisted her head to the side slightly and squinted her eyes, “sorta.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s actually more like a…  I don’t know what he is…  he just came up to me on the street.”

Kerstin’s eyes widened. “And you hired this stranger to creep Clara Preston to see if he can find the goods you need to get your father’s money back?”

“Actually, I think I hired him to seduce her in addition to the other stuff.”

Kerstin stared blankly at her friend for a long moment, “you did what now?”

“Oh…  and it’s not just some guy.  It’s Trevor Jordan.”

The taxi rolled to a stop at locker 781 of the self-storage units in Emerald Heights industrial district.  Trevor Jordan leaned forward and tossed two bills into the front seat of the cab before sliding out.  “Don’t wait,” he directed to the driver who, after the door was closed, drove on.

Trevor looked up and down the long row of blue painted garage-style doors.  He could hear the sounds of the cab rolling along the loose gravel as it weaved its way toward the exit to the vast yard.  The fading sound of the cab was eclipsed by the sound of his own footsteps as they crunched along the loose gravel.

When he reached the end of the row, he crossed to the next and spied the lone figure standing in front of a locked door, looking not at all out of place.

“You are late,” the man said as Trevor stopped near him.

“Only a couple of minutes,” he replied.  He handed a satchel to the man who received it eagerly.  “It’s twenty.”

The man’s head jerked up from looking at the satchel, “you better hope it’s more’n fucking twenty.”  His face did not betray the seriousness in his voice.

Reflexively Trevor rocked back on his heels slightly, “it’s just a start,” his voice sounding soft to his own ears.  “I…  I’m doing this job.  It’s gonna pay off big.”

“Oh yeah,” the man said, his tone clearly one of mocking, “you got a job goin’ on, heh?  Gonna get yourself some big business like Daddy…”  He spat on the ground and shook his head, “I’ve heard that bullshit before…  where’s the other sixty, boy?”

“I’ll get it…  soon.”

“Nah, you see, soon ain’t fast enough no more,” the man replied.  “This was supposed to be the day that we settle up, Trev.”  He paused, “I think it’s time that Daddy learned a little bit about his little boy’s habits, heh?  What do you think about that?”

Trevor’s palms felt clammy and there was a distinct ringing in his ears, “come on Weston… come on man, you know I can get it…  don’t fuck my shit up, man…  seriously…  this is gonna be big.  I’m scamming on the widow of Richard McKinelle…”

“What?”

Trevor could hear the surprise in Weston’s voice, “yeah, yeah…  the daughter asked me to get the goods on the bitch so she can get the old man’s money.  I’m in on that action.”

“If it pays off,” Weston said in a tone that Trevor found reassuring, even if the words weren’t especially comforting.

The pair stood in silence for a moment.  Weston was rubbing his fingers together and looking off down the long aisle of lockers, away from Trevor, which Trevor took as a sign that he was thinking about something; something that Trevor felt it best not to interrupt.  Finally he continued, “let me tell you a little something about the Widow McKinelle…” he said.  “She’s been a client of mine for a while.  Not my…” he paused for a moment and smirked, “financial services.”  He looked directly at Trevor Jordan as he spoke, “more of a pharmacological client.”

Trevor quirked an eyebrow and Weston smiled and nodded.  “She buys through a guy who works for me…  but I think that maybe with a little help from you…  we can make her an even better client.  What do you say, Trevy-boy?”

“Okay, I’m going to pretend for a moment that you didn’t just say that you hired Trevor Jordan to seduce your step-mother while learning the secrets behind her plans to manipulate your father out of your family’s fortunes.”

“She’s not my step-mother,” Leticia stated flatly.

Kerstin shook her head, “that’s the part of that statement that you object to?  Really, Leticia?”  She stood up and leaned against the table, “it’s Trevor Jordan…  Trevor…  Jordan.  You know who I mean, right?  His family and ours have…”

“Yours.”

“What?” Kerstin said, shocked into pausing.

“Your family, not mine.”

“You are my cousin,” Kerstin reminded her.

“But I’m not a Waterford.  That feud has nothing to do with me.”

“But still…”

“But nothing, Kerstin.  This is my father’s legacy that I’m dealing with here.  And I don’t care if it’s Oliver Jordan himself…  I will deal with anyone who will help me get my father’s legacy back in my family’s hands.”  Leticia stood up to look her cousin dead in the eye, “you have no idea what this feels like…  when Mom died she and I were barely speaking because of Oswald…  and then when I moved back to Emerald Heights to be with Daddy I wasn’t there when…” she began to sob.

“Oh Leticia,” Kerstin said as she embraced her friend.

As they broke their embrace Leticia continued, “and then…  then this ‘will’ business.  And Pamela and Richard are absolutely no help and now my lawyer is leaving for California to deal with her brother’s murder trial…  so it’s on me.  It’s on me!”  She drew in a deep ragged breath, “and as if all that wasn’t enough…  my ex-husband is back in town and is…  is…  in love with my boss’s daughter.”

“I’m sorry,” Kerstin said, “if there’s anything that I can do just let me know.”

Leticia shook her head, “it’s just all so much…  I don’t know how to deal with it all.”

Kerstin sighed as they both slid down into their chairs.  “I know,” she said plainly, “and here I thought I was supposed to be the main character of this story.”

“What?”

Kerstin shook her head, “nothing.”

The pediatric ward was quiet.  The children – those who were well enough to leave their beds – were congregated in the common room watching television or playing games while the nurses and aides went about the busy work of changing the bedsheets.  One nurse, however, was assigned to a different duty that day.

“This is quite an unusual case,” she said as she regarded the couple in front of her.

The husband nodded, “we suspected so.  But we have been waiting for this opportunity for such a very long time.  And when we heard about his situation we contacted our lawyer right away.”

The nurse smiled, “he’s a very lucky little boy, that accident was terrible.”  She flipped to another page in the document in front of her, “now you understand that he’s going to need constant medical attention due to his having Wilson’s disease?”

The wife nodded this time, “yes, of course.  Monitoring and a daily prescription, we’ve been looking it up online since the doctor mentioned it.”

“Good, then.”  She turned the clipboard around and placed it on the lip of the nurses station, “I guess all that remains is for your signatures and then I can go and get Jimmy and you can take him home.  He’s quite healthy now.”

“Jimmy?” The man inquired, “we were under the impression that his identity was unknown.”

The nurse nodded, “it is.  It’s just what we’ve come to call him.  James sounded better than John Doe Pediatric.  Jimmy for short.”  She bit her lip, “he’s become quite attached to the name.  But the adoption gives you, as the parents, the right to chan…”

The wife shook her head and raised her hand, “no, James is just fine.”  She turned to her husband and smiled, “don’t you think, Brentwood?”

“Certainly,” the man said, “James Stanley as a nice ring to it.”

• Frank Denzre is taken to the Emergency Room; Kerstin Waterford rushes to his side.
• Kerstin learned of a young boy in the Emergency Room who has a disease that runs in her family.
• Oswald Glendale has become obsessed with Sarah Price; and has dosed her and her parents in with an unknown drug.
• Leticia McKinelle‘s father died and left his estate to his new wife and not to his children.
• Leticia set out to challenge the will.  Trevor Jordan aims to help.
• Duncan Marshall was arrested on charges of a murder committed in California.
• Tish Waterford is planning to marry Marcus LeBrandt.
• Harry Custone arranged for the abduction of Senator Charles Taylor’s wife.

“Oh my God, you’re awake.  You’re okay.” Kerstin said; a smile broadening across her face.  She quickly crossed the room from the doorway, where she’d been standing, to the side of Frank’s bed.

Frank groaned, “yes, I am…  what the hell happened?”

“They said you passed out and fell and hit your head or something, don’t you remember that?”

Frank shook his head slowly, “well, sort of but not really.  Ow, my head hurts.”

“I’m sure it does.  You were unconscious for a long time.  They called me at work and I came…  Jehua drove me…”

She watched Frank attempt to straighten himself in the bed.  “What were you saying…  at the door, you said something about having to tell Jehua the truth?”

Kerstin turned away from him quickly, briefly looking out into the hall as if she could see the young boy from the pediatric ward.  “I…  I…” she stammered, “I never told him about us…”

“Oh,” Frank said, “so while I was laying unconscious in a hospital bed you were thinking of Jehua Stanley?  What am I supposed to think about that?”

“No, of course…  I mean, he brought me to the hospital, Frank…  so, yes, I was thinking about him…  but I mean, I never told him about our…  relationship.  I just think he deserves the truth about it…  because of our past.  I was only thinking about him in the context of…  us.”  The words seemed bland and awkward on her tongue as she said them; something had changed in the moment that she realized the child in the pediatric ward was the son that she’d given up for adoption nearly a decade before.

Trevor was grinning in a way that made Leticia quite unnerved about the endeavour they were about to begin.  She was pinning her hopes of finding the necessary information to retain her father’s estate on some self-proclaimed con-artist stranger.  She hated it, but Clara wasn’t stupid enough to be tricked by any member of the McKinelle family; Leticia just hoped that this man had some tricks of his own up his sleeve.

“Cash, hey?”  He said as she approached.

She nodded, “yeah, I sort of figured that this would be a cash deal.”

“Smart girl.  So, tell Trevor, did you even get in the front door before she dropped the hammer on ya?”  He asked in a way that dripped with confidence and more than a little arrogance.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied defiantly, “I did get in the front door…  but she caught me before I could find anything useful.”  She thrust the satchel of money in his direction.

He peeled it open, “nice.  I won’t count it.  We’ve got trust you and me.”  He made and back and forth gesture that made her roll her eyes.  “So I did a little leg work on the sitch; I mean who doesn’t love a caper, right?  A little Google and Facebook creeping go a long way.”  Leticia hadn’t even considered that Clara would have a Facebook account, “so I know a little bit about your old lady.”  Leticia bristled, Trevor laughed, “ha, I thought you’d get a kick out of me calling her that.”

“By the way…” he continued, “she’s kinda a hotty – you coulda said something about that before – I sorta feel bad for taking the dough.  Y’know, ‘cause I’d go after her anyhow…” he paused and looked down at the cash, “oh, I’m totally taking the money though, don’t get me wrong.”

Leticia raised her hand, “this is all very interesting but how about you tell me how this is going to work?”

Trevor chuckled, “you don’t worry, I’ve got all I need in order to get this doll on the hook – especially if she’s the gold digger you say she is.”

“Well, I am worried, actually; so how about you give me a little insight into how you’re going to get me the information I need?  How are you even going to get in the door?”

Trevor grinned and leaned in close to Leticia, “well, for starters my old man is a billionaire…  you know, Oliver Jordan, yeah, that’s my pa.”

Cassandra Marshall paced back and forth the length of her kitchen.  It was a measure of catharsis for her in most instances although it didn’t seem to be helping her very much right then.  She wiped her still-wet eyes and circled back toward the round dining room table, “I’m sorry,” she said for the fifth time in ten minutes.

John Godspeed nodded, “Mrs. Marshall, please, sit for a moment.”

“I…  I can’t…  how can I sit?  They’ve taken him to California to be tried for murder.  He’s got a motive – there’s no denying that he’s got a motive – and he had the opportunity.  And now you tell me that Anita Breza, the wife of the man my husband is accused of murdering, is pregnant with his child?”

The chief shook his head, “she’s pregnant, Mrs. Marshall…”

“Cassandra, please, I think we’re past Mrs. Marshall at this point Chief.”

The chief nodded, “Cassandra, so far the fact that Ms. Breza is pregnant is just a… a rumour.  She says it’s his, but there’s no confirmation that she’s even pregnant.  It could be the desperate plea of a woman trying not to be sentenced to jail time.”

Cassandra chuckled dryly, “it’s true…  oh, trust me, it’s true.”  She shook her head, “and I should have seen it coming long before now.  I mean, the trips…  he’d told me he was going to New York, Miami…  all sorts of places.  But it was to her…  they were always to her.  And then there was the time with…” she sobbed, “it was just like last time he cheated.  I should have noticed.  Doesn’t a wife usually notice these things?  Maybe if I’d noticed none of this would have happened.”

Godspeed stood and crossed the room toward her, “Cassandra, you can’t blame yourself.  We don’t even know exactly what happened yet.  I tell you, there’s something more going on here…”

Cassandra shrugged, “it’s in the hands of the California courts now.  All we can do is watch.”  She shook her head, “I will probably be called to testify…  they’ll bring up all the stuff from before…  discredit him and then…”

Godspeed wrapped his arms around the woman in a fatherly hug as her sobbing turned to crying.  “Cassandra, I’m not giving up…  I’m going to do my own investigation.  I’m leaving for California tomorrow morning.”

Sarah Price was having a lovely lunch with her mother at Café Orleans.  It was amongst her very favourite places to eat and they were expecting the love of her life, Oswald Glendale, to join them presently.  “He really does seem to be a wonderful man,” Mary said to her daughter.

Sarah nodded, “oh yes, mother, he absolutely is.  He’s smart and attentive and he just thinks that I’m so beautiful.”

“You are, my dear, you are.”

Just then Leticia McKinelle approached the duo and Sarah leapt from her seat, “Leticia!” She exclaimed as her best friend approached the table.  “It’s so good to see you.  How are you doing?”

Leticia sighed, “don’t ask…  but, how are you?  How was your trip?”

Sarah gestured to a chair, “please sit down and join us…  there’s so much to tell you.”

Mary nodded, “oh yes, please, we’ve just had the most wonderful news.”

“Oh?” Leticia asked.

“Yes,” Sarah began, “I met a man in Paris…” she said, sticking to Oswald’s story as they had agreed.  “we were at the Louvre, and we both ended up at the same statue and our eyes locked and…  well… we fell in love.”

Leticia’s face changed instantly, “oh my God…  uh…  congratulations, Sarah. Wow, this is so sudden.”

“Oh yes, and he’s the most wonderful fellow,” Mary added, “polite and courteous and such a conversationalist.”

Sarah nodded, “yes, I’m sure that you two will become fast friends…  in fact, here he is…”  She stood and extended her arms.  “Oh, Oswald, there’s someone that you simply must meet.”

Sarah hooked her arm around her beau’s waist and stood in front of her best friend, “Oswald Glendale meet Leticia McKinelle.”

“Are you kidding me?” Leticia exclaimed, “Sarah…  do you know who this bastard is?”

“You seem more relieved than me to be getting out of the hospital,” Frank said as he held the door open for her.

She halted suddenly, “what?”  She recovered quickly, “oh, it’s just that I’m glad that the doctor didn’t find anything wrong with you. It’s just good to know that all the tests are normal.”

“Yep, I’m fit as a fiddle,” Frank grinned.

“Clearly not…  I’m pretty sure that saying things like ‘fit as a fiddle’ is a symptom of…  something,” she smirked; she really did feel relief at getting further away from the pediatric ward of Bayview Hospital.  “By the way… I’ve got to say: I told you so!”  She slapped him playfully in the chest, “the doctor even said that you fainted.”

“I didn’t faint,” he protested.

“You did faint, in fact,” she said, “a medical professional said so.”

“No, I did not…” He cleared his throat audibly, “I lost consciousness with manly vigour.”

Kerstin laughed in spite of herself.  “And then you fractured your skull…”

“Yeah, I did.  That’s pretty manly don’t you think?”

“But Andhi isn’t bringing anyone,” Tish said slapping the table hard with the open palm of her hand.  The seating plan for her wedding to Marcus LeBrandt was laid out in front of her.  A few of the pages flapped in the breeze kicked up by her hand.

“Andhi doesn’t have a boyfriend,” her father reminded her, “Kerstin does.”

“I don’t care!  It’s my wedding and I am only inviting Kerstin…  not what’s-his-name.”

“Frank,” Marcus intoned.  “His name is Frank Denzre.”

“No one cares what his name is,” Tish declared.

“That’s not fair, Tish,” Lawrence Waterford reminded, “that man saved your sister from an att…”

“That was her own stupid fault,” Tish replied without letting her father finish.  “Daddy she got that job – at a bar! – because she won’t work for you.  And then she get’s herself attacked in the street while walking home from it in the middle of the night…  well, that’s just stupid.”

“Now, settle down young lady.  Your sister has her own plans for her future…  and while it may not be the future that we had hoped for her…  it’s her life and she gets to make her own choices.”

“Her own stupid choices,” Tish said under her breath.

“Senator Taylor,” Harry said as he stood in the doorway of the man’s home.

“Custone?  Henry Custone?”

“Harry.”

“Ah, yes…  you work for…”

“Oliver Jordan.  Yes, I do.  Can we step inside?”

The senator gestured and stepped aside.  Harry walked into the other man’s house.  As the senator closed the door he spoke, “so, Mr. Jordan sent me here in the spirit of… the common good.”

“Don’t be coy Mr. Custone, what is Jordan up to?”

Harry looked around the house, making a point to glance into the rooms that lead off the hall.  “This house needs a woman’s touch, don’t you think, Senator?  That seems to be missing…”

“Screw you,” the senator said taking a step toward Harry.  He deftly side-stepped the older man.

“Mr. Jordan wants you to know that he may be in possession of information about the whereabouts of your missing wife – he has kindly worked hard on your behalf to locate her,” it was a lie that both of them knew was a lie, but Harry continued, “and he’d be willing to trade that information…  for a favour.”

“I already secured the damned defense contracts for his damned company… what more could he possibly want from me?”

“Jordan Enterprises is a big company and it will soon be expanding into real estate development and Mr. Jordan wants your help to make sure that happens.”

“Real estate?  Ha!” The senator exclaimed, “even Jordan can’t break Lawrence Waterford’s real estate hold in Emerald Heights.”

Harry tsk’d the senator, “don’t be so sure.  It seems that Jordan Enterprises has recently come into ownership of a significant amount of Waterford’s mortgage…  and Mr. Jordan thinks it’s time to call in those debts.”

The senator quirked an eyebrow, “what does any of that have to do with me?”

“Well, see, Senator… Mr. Jordan needs you to make it clear to any banker who might want to take on Waterford’s financing that they will be risking their charter.”

Leticia couldn’t believe her eyes.  For that matter she couldn’t believe her ears, either.  Before her stood her ex-husband, Oswald Glendale, and her best friend, Sarah Price, linked arm in arm.  And they were smiling at each other.  “Seriously, Sarah, do you know who this is?”

Sarah nodded, although Leticia knew that clearly she did not.  “He’s my love, Leticia,” she said.

“Yes, Leticia,” Oswald said and it sent a chill down her spine to hear her name on his lips.  “I’m her love.  And she is mine.”  He turned and kissed her deeply.

Leticia glanced back and forth from the duo of Sarah and Oswald to Mary Price who was still seated at their little round table.  “What is going on?  How did this happen?”

“We met in Paris, at the Louvre,” Sarah said, “it was magical.”

“Bullshit!  Bullshit and bullshit.”  Leticia said, “there’s no Goddamned way that you met him in Paris.” She turned to Mary, “surely to God you can’t be happy about this…  he’s ten years older than she is.  And he’s been married four times!”

Mary shook her head, “oh Leticia, you are so dramatic.  Oswald is a charming man…  you just need to give him a chance.”

Her jaw hung open for a moment, “are you kidding me about this?  This is my ex-husband!  You have no idea what I went through with him; what he did to me…  this is…  this is craziness!  Sarah you cannot do this…  you have to trust me.”

Sarah nodded, “Leticia I love him.  All I want from you is your support…”

“You are never going to get that, Sarah…  not while you’re with him.”

“How many servants do your parents have?”  Frank whispered as they stood in the library at Red Terrace.

“Staff.” Kerstin corrected, “and there are four in the main house.”

“There are more than four staff here.” He quipped.

She nodded, “yes, when Granny and Grandpa are in the main house their staff come with them.”

“Oh, that explains it,” he said; he sounded sarcastic and she knew that she hadn’t made it any clearer for him.

She chuckled, “wait ‘til we get to the family.”

“I am not ready for that,” he said.

“It won’t really matter; anyone who wants to talk to you will introduce themselves to you.  It’s the Waterford way…  you get a sort of inflated sense of self-importance.”

As if on cue her cousin approached.  “Cousin,” he said to Kerstin and leaned in and air-kissed her on both cheeks.  She obliged him accordingly.  He extended his hand to Frank and said, “Anders Waterford, eldest son of Trey Waterford.  My father is Kerstin’s father’s older brother.”

Kerstin smirked at Frank, “see?”

Frank chuckled, “nice to meet you Anders,” he said.  “I think you’re the first Waterford cousin I’ve met.”

“I am surprised that Kerstin brought you, I would have thought that she’d wait as long as possible to feed you to the wolves.”  He gestured across the room to the assembled group of family with the hand that held his drink, “although word is we’ve all got you to thank for saving our Kerstin from…”

“Uh, yes, well…” Kerstin said, interjecting. “We’re all thankful for that, but let’s not talk about it, okay Anders?  Have you seen Granny and Grandpa?  I wanted to introduce them to Frank.”

Anders scratched his forehead, “I think I saw Granny in the drawing room, and Grandpa is with uncle Lawrence in the upstairs den.  Something about the business, I think.”  He quickly looked out into the mass of Waterfords and then turned back toward his cousin, he leaned in closer as he spoke, “have you seen your sister?”

Kerstin shook her head, “no, we only just arrived, really.”

“Aidan told me that she was going off about you bringing…  him,” he jerked his thumb at Frank, “to the wedding; something about it ruining the day for her.”

“Oh for the love of…” Kerstin sighed, “well, are you surprised, really?  That’s pretty much a textbook case of Tish, isn’t it?”  She shook her head.  “It doesn’t really matter, though.  If I force the issue Grandpa will make sure that Frank can come…”

“Of course he will,” Anders replied, “anything for the oldest grandchild.”  Anders turned and walked away and left Kerstin and Frank to stand alone in the midst of the assembled family in the library.

“What was all that about?”  Frank asked as Anders left hearing range.

“It’s a long story,” Kerstin replied; she sighed, “one I thought was done a long time ago.”

• Leticia McKinelle‘s father died and left his estate to his widow Clara Preston.
• Leticia hatched a plot to find evidence with which to contest the will.
• Trevor Jordan offered to help Leticia get the info on Clara, but she declined.
• Frank Denzre was taken to the emergency room at Bayview Hospital.
• Jehua Stanley and Kerstin Waterford had a near-miss romantic moment.
• Teens Isaac and Owen were witnesses to a fatal accident.

“Make it snappy,” Leticia mocked as she climbed the spiral staircase that lead to the second floor of Pinewood Manor.  Those were the words of the woman who had married her father and convinced him – somehow – to change his will.  Now, she just needed to prove how; to prove that she had manipulated him.  She needed to find the evidence that would allow her to contest the will and reclaim her family’s heritage.

“What the f…” Leticia breathed as she walked past the door the suite that had been hers only days before.  “You have got to be kidding me.”  She stared in disbelief for long moments; there was nothing recognizable about the space at all.  The colours on the walls, the furnishings, in fact the very purpose of the room had changed.  What had once been her bedroom was now filled with a number of expensive looking pieces of exercise equipment and an obscenely large television.

She shook her head, “god damned bitch.  I can’t wait until I can…” she continued fuming as she moved along the hallway to the room in which the few things that remained in the house that belonged to her were located.

She stopped in the entrance to the room and studied the boxes for a few moments before casting a glance to the next door along the opposite wall.  It led to her father’s office, which, no doubt, contained the information that she was looking for.

She glanced down the hall and listened intently to see if Clara was anywhere nearby before she slipped across the hall and opened the door to her father’s office.  It was unlocked, as usual, and she ducked inside and pushed the door closed quietly behind her.

The office was ceiling to floor bookshelves all filled with binders, files and other miscellany of a decades long life in finances.  Leticia had absolutely no idea where to begin.

She stepped behind her father’s desk and immediately felt herself overcome with emotion.  It was the first time since his death that she’d been in a space that he had occupied for a significant portion of his life and so many thoughts and feeling came suddenly flooding into her mind.  “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as she pulled the drawer open and began to rifle through the papers and notes therein.

She was several minutes and only a tiny fraction in to her search when it all came to a screeching halt.

“What the hell are you doing?”  Clara roared from the office doorway.

“Are you okay dear?”

The voice seemed disembodied at first, coming from everywhere around her and from right inside her head at the same time.  She blinked her eyes and her blurry eyesight began to clear.  She mumbled something that was neither articulate to the other woman nor to herself.

“Are you okay dear?”  The woman repeated.  Kerstin began to be able to focus on her.  She looked at the blue eyes and the nurses scrubs and winced as the throb in her head returned with a vengeance.

“What happened?”  She said groggily.

“You fainted,” the woman explained, “right at the nurses’ station.”

Kerstin raised her hand to her head, and another jolt of pain shot across her skull, “ow,” she said, “that hurts.”

“It’s apt to, you fell pretty hard.”  The nurse explained.  “You asked a question about the boy from the accident and then, wham, down you went.”

The boy.  Kerstin’s mind seemed to sharpen at hearing those words.  “Wilson’s disease,” she repeated.  “He’s got Wilson’s?”

The nurse nodded and brought a cup, presumably filled with water, to Kerstin’s lips.  It was then that she became aware that she was in an upright hospital bed.  She pushed herself up slightly and looked around.  Frank was nowhere in sight.  The nurse spoke, “yes, he has Wilson’s.  Do you know something about him?  So far we haven’t been able to find out anything about him.”

“It’s rare,” Kerstin said after taking a sip of the water.  “Wilson’s disease is rare, isn’t it?”

The nurse nodded, “something like one in a hundred thousand,” she said, “it’s genetic, too.  We don’t think he was being treated for it before now.”

Kerstin winced, although her head was hurting her less and less with every passing minute.  “Where’s Frank?”  She asked.

The nurse looked perplexed, “Frank?”

“I was here, in the hospital, to see him.  They moved him… to room 416.  That’s where I was headed when I bumped into…  and then I ended up at the nurses’ station.  I was headed to see Frank.”

“Oh,” the nurse said, somewhat deflatedly, “so you don’t know anything about the boy?”

Kerstin shook her head, “I’m sorry.” She stood, shakily, and made her way toward the door.  The nurse pointed left and she stepped out of the room before turning back.  “He’s getting treatment now, though, right?  The boy I mean?”

The nurse nodded.

“Son?” Gordon said, drawing Jehua’s attention away from the invoices he’d been filling out.

He knew that his father would seek him out eventually.  After leaving The P & Q the night before to take Kerstin to the emergency room at Bayview he hadn’t gone back to work, instead he had gone home to the Hunting Lodge.  He’d hoped that his father would respect the privacy that he so earnestly needed and his hope had borne out.

But there was little hope that Gordon would leave the topic unspoken of in the long term.  And it seemed to Jehua, from his father’s tone of voice, that the time of unspokenness was about to be over.  “Yeah, Dad?”  He said without inflection.

“I wanted to talk you.” Gordon began, “you know, about last night.  About what…  about what I saw, Jehua.”

Jehua sighed, “yeah.”  He paused, then said, “it was a mistake.”

Gordon nodded, “I know we never really talked about all that happened between the two of you in Grand City, but you know…  I’m your Dad Jeh, it’s never too late to talk.”

Jehua chuckled, “yeah, Dad, I know.  It’s just hard, y’know?  I don’t really even know what to say about it… and it’s been 10 years.  I loved her…  and then she just…  she started ignoring me, then all of a sudden she was just…  gone.”

Gordon nodded and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything.  Jehua continued, “and I knew, y’know, that she was from here.  Even then.  And I knew that she moved back a few months ago.  I wanted to talk to her again, to ask her what happened with us.”  He looked up into his father’s eyes, “but I just couldn’t, Dad.  And then…  then she came in here, and you hired her.”

Gordon said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, Dad… that’s not what I mean.  It was great.  It was great to see her again, to be around her.  We never talked about it, y’know, about what happened, but it was good to be around her.  And then, last night…  it just…  I just…  I couldn’t just watch and just be her anymore…  I had to see if…”  His voice trailed off.

“Jehua, do you love her, son?”

Jehua nodded, “yeah.  I never stopped, Dad.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What other choice did I have?”

“Uh, to not hand over the God damned tapes, maybe?”

“Owen, they were going to put me in jail for Christ sake.  I had to give them the tapes.  They didn’t believe me when I told them that they weren’t recording.”

“But, man, my Mom works with those people.”

Isaac scoffed, “your Mom doesn’t work with those people, dude, she works against them most of the time.  She works for Oliver-God-damned-Jordan.”

“Still man, they know her and they’re going to know that it’s me on the tape.”  Owen Nightingale said.

“It’s evidence, they can’t just go around showing it to people who have no business seeing it, man.”  Isaac said, “chill out.  I mean, it’s just a blowjob.”

“That I was giving you,” Owen exclaimed.  “Okay, that makes you, like, a stud…  do you know what that makes me?.”

Isaac grinned, “pretty popular with me, actually.”

“I can’t believe that you’re being a smart-ass about this, what if they find out about this shit at school?”

“Owen, man, just chill the eff out.  It’s not going to get out at all, let alone at school.”  Owen put a hand on his buddy’s shoulder.  “Now come on, just sit down and relax.  You’re way too high strung.”

Owen sat on the edge of Isaac’s bed.  Isaac nodded and smiled, “there…  for God’s sake, I thought you were going to, like, bust a vein or something.  Man, you need to decompress a bit.”  He leaned down and kissed the other boy from his standing position.

He smiled as he pulled away, “nothing bad is going to happen, you can trust me to take care of you always.”

He took a step closer to the sitting boy and his smile turned into a more devilish grin, “now…  how about you take care of me?”

“Leticia, I am shocked to hear from you,” the sarcasm in Trevor’s voice was painfully obvious, at least he hoped it was.  “I guess your little plan worked out about as well as you excepted?”

“Shut up, okay?” Came her reply on the other end of the line.  “So… about your idea…” she trailed off.

Trevor grinned in spite of himself.  “Yeah,” he said, “so you need me to, like, get in there and get the goods on Mama for you?”

“She’s not my…” she sighed, “whatever.  I’ve got to prove that Clara manipulated my father into changing his will.  Can you do that?  Can you find that information?”

“Oh, you don’t even know,” Trevor replied.  “I’ll get that information…” he paused, “but first we need to talk money.”

“What?” Leticia said suddenly.  “What do you mean?”

Trevor laughed, “you didn’t think I was doing this out of the goodness of my friggin’ heart did you?  Nah, baby, I need cash.”

“How do I even know that you’re not going to just tell Clara my plan?”

Trevor scoffed, “she already holds all the cards.  She probably already thinks you’re after her.”

“Good point.”  Leticia admitted.  “So, then, how much money are you looking for?”

“Say 20,000$ now, and 20,000$ when the job is done.”

“Are you kidding me?” Leticia asked.

Trevor smiled and chuckled, “nah, but then again, what other choice do you have?  Do you want your father’s estate back, or do you want to let the bitch beat you?  20-Gs ain’t much to get that ball rolling, is it?  And when we beat the bitch you’ll want to show me a little gratitude.”

“Fine,” she said after a period of silence.  “Where can we meet?”

As she stepped through the door of room 416 Kerstin had hoped to see Frank Denzre sitting up and smiling, greeting her and possibly even making some sort of wisecrack about the fall that landed him in the hospital in the first place.

But that is not what she saw.  Instead she was greeted with the same array of tubes and wires that she’d seen in the emergency room when she had first arrived in the hospital.  She immediately walked up to the bed and took his hand in hers.  “Frank,” she said softly; he didn’t wake or even stir.

She pulled a chair over from the corner and sat at the side of his bed.

“They asked me who else to call,” she said, “but I didn’t know anyone.”  She rubbed the back of his hand as she spoke, “I don’t know your family or their names, or where they are.”  She shook her head, “but it’s not going to matter because you’re going to wake up soon.”  She wiped a tear away from her eye.

She puffed out her cheeks and looked around the room for a brief moment, “Jehua drove me down here last night from The P & Q.  I came right away…” she chewed her lip, “I’m glad that I was…  that they knew to call me.”

“I still haven’t told you about the history between Jehua and I.”  She said with a half-choked chuckle, “you don’t know how many times I’ve managed to dodge telling people about that period of my life.”  She shook her head, “we met in college and it was, like, instant romance.  Totally whirlwind.  He was a friend of a friend…  but he got introduced to me as Jehua West – West his is Mom’s maiden name.”

“She’s dead,” Kerstin added.  “Has been for a really long time.”

“If I’d known that he was a Stanley I probably wouldn’t have ever given him the time of day.  Not because I didn’t like him, or because I have something against Stanleys, because I don’t.  Their family and mine have been in this town forever.  No, it’s just that in those days I was sort of on an anti-Emerald Heights kick.  I moved to Grand City in order to get away from here…  away from the people mostly.”

“But I didn’t know that he was from here – and he never told me.  And I guess it shows how anti-social I am around this town because I didn’t even know he was from here until I went in for that job interview at The P & Q last month.”

“But back in Grand City we were…  we were in love.  And I was happy with him…” she trailed off, “and then…  and then I got pregnant.  I was 17 and…  and I got scared.  I got my aunt Gabby to help me get away…  I went out west until it was time to…  y’know…  and then I came back to Grand City and…  gave him up for adoption.”

She was crying openly as she held Frank’s limp hand in hers.  “I’ve never told anyone else about that before…  no one except my aunt Gabby ever knew…  and she’s dead now.”

“But,” she said, “Frank…  the boy that was in the accident out by the highway.  I think… I think that’s my son.”

She stood and walked to the door; she looked down the hallway in the direction of the pediatric unit, “I think he’s out there right now…  and what am I supposed to do?  How can I go back and look Jehua in the face now without telling him the truth?”

“The truth about what?”  She spun around suddenly and stared agape at Frank Denzre as he laid in the hospital bed.  His eyes were open and he was rubbing them slowly with his fingers.  “What truth are you supposed to tell Jehua Stanley?”  He repeated.