Love is a Many-Splendored Thing

By Tina
Rated PG-13 for language and adult situations
My thanks to Beej for suggesting the story title.

NOTE: The ‘prequel’ to this may be found on the Gaslight site under the title New
Start.

Words by Paul Frances Webster and Music by Sammy Fain

Performed in 1955 by The Four Aces

Love is a many-splendored thing

It's the April rose
That only grows in the early spring
Love is nature's way of giving
A reason to be living
The golden crown that makes a man a king

Once on a high and windy hill

In the morning mist
Two lovers kissed
And the world stood still
Then your fingers touched
My silent heart and taught it how to sing
Yes, true love's
A many-splendored thing

Once on a high and windy hill

In the morning mist
Two lovers kissed
And the world stood still
Then your fingers touched
My silent heart and taught it how to sing
Yes, true love's
A many-splendored thing
Part One
Mid-November 2006

“Four dozen sandwiches: ham and Swiss; turkey and Swiss; ham and turkey rollups; bacon,
lettuce and tomato on toasted white bread; bacon, lettuce and tomato on toasted wheat; roast beef
sandwiches…”

“Did you get the order in for the pizzas too?” Terry asked, leaning over the bar as if trying to
better see the steno-notebook.

Adalia smiled, placing the edge of her ink pen between her lips. “One with four cheeses; one with
sausage, Italian sausage, Canadian bacon and pepperoni; and one with everything except
anchovies. I also have the Kosher hot dogs – two dozen enough?”

“I think so, yeah. Probably.”

“Probably,” she snickered, feeling as though she was already feeding an army, but another part of
her praying that what she had organized would be enough. “And before you ask…yes, we have
the order for two dozen each mini cheeseburgers and hamburgers, and you know you’ll have all
the extras. Chips and crisps and dips; nuts…”

“You always know what we want, don’t you sweetheart?” Jim Braddock commented, giving his
Aussie brother a nudge.

“Of course she does. That’s our Adalia. She always makes poker night special…and we
appreciate the hell out of it too.”

“Thank you Mr. Thorne…Mr. Braddock. It’s nice to be appreciated. Oh and I’ve double-checked
with Andy, and he has all the extra beer and soft drinks in the additional fridge so it’s away from
our regular stock.”

“Bless you. I don’t know how you put up with us,” the former boxer told her.

The head chef shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes as she did. “You all are spoiling me.
Look…I’m just doing my job, and part of it is not only handling the kitchens, but making sure
that the monthly poker night goes well, therefore preventing any possible riots. Tina would never
forgive me if you all started burning and pillaging.”

“Well, when this lot gets a few beers in them, they really can’t be trusted,” Terry joked, glancing
back into the main area of the Tavern, where tables and chairs were being situated for the
upcoming evening. “I’d stay clear if I was you.”

“Oh I intend to,” Adalia replied. “As soon as all this is organized, I will be finishing up things
over at the Hotel restaurants – therefore relinquishing control of the Tavern to all you guys and
then…I have the evening off and will see you all tomorrow.”

Jim patted her on the hand as he began to move away. “You have a good Sabbath.”
“Thanks. Good luck tonight.”

“Hey – no fair wishing him luck. Sounds like you’re playing favorites.”

“Good luck, Terry.”

“That’s more like it.” It was now his turn to show his appreciation, and he gave her a brief kiss on
the cheek. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Just promise you all will try to leave things in one piece when you’re
finished.”

“I am not promising anything,” he told her before waving and with a “Have a good Sabbath
now,” left his spot at the bar.

She had to stand there for a moment, watching as the men she had come to know so well went
about their business, organizing things for what was – for them – a special event every month,
and recalling that from her arrival at the Point back in the spring, she was made to realize one
thing. They will gamble on anything, Tina had informed her. It doesn’t matter how many official
poker nights they have, give them half a chance and they’ll gamble: toad jumps, cockroach races
– not that we have cockroaches thank God. Just never use the words ‘I’ll bet…’ They’ll take you
seriously and then you’ll be so knotted up you won’t know what to do.

In all the months of being at the Point, she admitted to herself that she had never been ‘knotted
up.’ Actually, she had become such a part of the place that it was difficult believing she had
arrived only back in the spring, or that so much had…

“A dollar for your thoughts.”

Adalia smiled slightly and turned to look at Kim Barrett, once more amazed at how softly he
moved for a man of his stature and also cursing herself for permitting him to sneak up on her as
he often did. Not that she was paranoid, but there were times she worried of being caught at
something – no matter how innocent – and only too late realizing that she had been observed, and
there were two people she would prefer not to have involved too deeply in her business. Here was
one of them. Sighing, she replied, “A dollar? But…”

“Your thoughts are worth more than a penny, believe me,” and he grinned broadly, appearing
more naturally charming and not much a deceptive seducer. “How are you today, Adalia?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“I can’t complain,” he answered with a shrug. “It’s been a good morning so far and the day is
looking to get better.”

The Hoosier cocked her head to one side. “So you’ll be joining the others tonight in…?” and she
nodded in the direction of the main Tavern, still busy with the moving about of chairs and tables
while others organized the fresh boxes of cards and the chip carousels and the kitchen staff set up
the buffet tables.

“Oh…wouldn’t miss it. There’s nothing I enjoy better than cleaning out my brothers, especially
the American ones…”
“Hey!” Adalia looked indignant, but Kim held up one hand to indicate he was not finished.

“…and the Aussies and the English and the Spanish and…have I missed anyone yet?”

“Psychotic computer generated ones with a diversity of serial killers and mass murderers that cut
across all national boundaries?”

“Him too.” Adalia laughed and Kim wiggled his index finger so that the chef would bend closer
to him. “See…they never, ever expect much of me, even after all these years, and that’s the key to
my winning.”

“Oh I see.”

“Yes…but underneath this well-dressed, suave, muscular figure beats the heart of a man who
loves to gamble…especially when the odds are very much in his favor.”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“Why not? You’ve proven yourself trustworthy, kind but not a doormat, firm but having the right
touch with your people, serious but not without a touch of humor, and I have heard…” He
paused, hoping he was not embarrassing her too much for he had noticed how her cheeks were
beginning to show the slightest hint of crimson.

“What?”

“I have heard that while you run a tough kitchen, your employees respect and admire you and
would not want to be anywhere else. And…you are a damn sight prettier and have a much cleaner
mouth than Gordon Ramsey.”

“I’m flattered…I think,” she chuckled. She had never found it necessary to be tyrannical or a
foul-mouthed harpy when it came to how she desired things to be operated, and although she had
trained under chefs and sommeliers of varied emotions, watching how their staffs reacted to them,
and seeing what had the most positive or most negative effects, she developed her own method,
one she hoped worked.

“Accept it as that. I don’t think I’ve heard such praise of the Crowe’s Point kitchens since the
days of Annabella, and those were very good days.”

“Now did my employees say that and you heard it through the rumor mill…?”

“The Gordon Ramsey comparison?”

“Or did you make that part up yourself?”

Kim smiled enigmatically, shrugged and pretended to analyze the nails on his left hand. “I’ll
leave that for you to ponder,” then he looked at her and laughed. “So Terry and Jim have finalized
the poker menu with you then?”

“Yes…”
“And then…?”

“I’m sorry…then…?”

“Then how will you be spending your evening? I haven’t heard any mention of a ladies’ night this
time, or did I miss something?”

“I heard that a few of the girls are getting together tonight, but no, it’s not the official ladies night.
I think Tina’s still feeling a little under the weather.”

“Of course. So that means you will be spending your Friday…”

“Enjoying my first Shabbat off in what seems like forever…”

“So the Keeper is giving you an off day! Good for her!” Kim joked, then quickly glanced over his
shoulder to make certain John Biebe was not within earshot.

“I try not to ask for every Sabbath off, you know that. Fridays and Saturdays are our busiest
times, but with the Tavern closed tonight to the visitors and the poker game and all, I figured…”

“You figured that this would be an excellent time for you to ask off. Brilliant on your part.”

“Not brilliant, just logical. Kim…”

“I remember the first week you were here, when I came to the carriage house with your
housewarming gifts and you were celebrating Shabbat, and you said that you had to give lessons
to the boys about what you were doing, the tradition and all. I was always sorry I missed that.
Your prayers and…well, everything involved in it.” He had never had the remotest interest in
Judaism – except a cursory one – until Adalia Rabinovich’s arrival. Now he could say with pride
that the last few months had found him doing some heavy reading on the history of the religion,
studying several websites devoted to it, and even watching Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten
Commandments and William Wyler’s Ben-Hur. Fiddler on the Roof, The Golem and The Jazz
Singer with Al Jolsen found its’ way into his repertoire, and even Exodus and Holocaust became
part of his viewing. Funny how he had never had such an interest until her.

“Really?”

“Really! I mean, think about it: you are practicing something that is ancient and laden in customs
thousands and thousands of years old, and you are so resolute about it. I like that in a person.”

“Well…” Adalia’s voice softened, uncertain whether Barrett meant what he said or was being
slightly mocking. “…it’s a little more than that, but I appreciate the understanding….Uh…look…
I’ve got a million things to do, Kim before I head home and the dough for my Challah should
nearly be ready so…”

“Of course, of course you do…I mean…of course you have things to do before sundown, don’t
you? I won’t keep you any longer, but it was just that I saw you and…well…I simply wanted to
say ‘hello.’ So…hello.” He was pleased to see her return his attempt at wittiness.

“Hello….Oh! And while I have you here, I wanted to let you know that I found that wine you
were asking about.”
Kim’s eyebrows raised and momentarily, he resembled a child receiving a most-wanted gift on
Christmas morning, and he caught himself before shouting ‘Fuck me swinging,’ and instead
replacing it with “You don’t mean…?” and once more double-checking the immediate vicinity
and any sight of Sid.

Adalia nodded. “The 2003 St Innocent Pinot Noir White Rose.”

“Oh…my…God. I thought…I thought you said it was sold out.” Kim had been dreaming of it
since both he and Sid had read about it on a wine website. It had received a top rated 94 points
from the experts but regrettably was in limited supply. Even now, Kim could recall the review
that so enchanted him and his brother: St Innocent's most hedonistic wine. It is the only wine that
I do not focus on the details of aroma or flavor. Instead, I enjoy the pleasure, it is drop dead
gorgeous. Aromas of perfectly ripe fruit and hints of sweet smoky oak, it fills your mouth with
dark fruits and red flowers. Lush with ripe tannin, it is still quite young and should fill out even
more through the end of 2006.i How could he not want something that luscious, and especially if
it gave him a chance to ask -- yet again – that Adalia plan a meal around it….He still had such
memories of the last time….

“It is sold out…but that’s why it is so nice to have connections.”

“And what connections you must have!” he grinned, checking around him again. “Sid is going to
be so…pissed!” he nearly squealed. “Excuse my French, but…”

“No problem. I don’t blame you. It’s a wonderful selection, and I keep telling you and him to quit
being such snobs and thinking you cannot drink something American or Australian, or Kiwi or
Chilean or South African. You are going to miss out on so much if you do that. And you call
yourselves connoisseurs,” she teased.

“I stand corrected, and I will admit…you have never steered me wrong with any wine outside of
Europe.”

“See?!”

“Thank you,” he sincerely said.

“You are most welcome. Thought I’d tell you while you were standing here. The order should be
here next week. I’m sorry I could only get my hands on two bottles but…”

“I appreciate that you managed to get me those. Sometimes…and it’s a fault of mine, well, others
would call it a fault, but I would call it a positive…but when I see something I want…that I really
want…” and he permitted one finger to cautiously touch the side of Adalia’s nearest hand, “I
always go for it. I never let anything stand in my way…but you’ve known me enough months and
weeks to know that, right?” She did not flinch, perhaps did not even realize, and he was happy to
see that she was smiling so sweetly at him. Damn you are so beautiful…. “So…I’ll let you go
then.”

“Yes, thank you. Just wanted to give you that bit of news, and hey, it’ll be something to look
forward to, right, especially considering it’ll be at its’ best by year’s end.”

“True…and promise…when the time comes…”

“Of course,” she quietly agreed. “I’d be more than happy to.”

“Good. Well, I’ll let you go then. Have a good Shabbat.”

“Thank you, Kim and…well…good luck tonight.”

“Oh you say that to all my brothers, don’t you?” he beamed, his eyes never leaving her as she
moved away.

*****************************************

“No…don’t put Kim and Sid at the same table to start out,” John Biebe told Arthur, as the
younger man set up the place cards that would situate everyone during the first hours of the
evening. “They’ll either beat the crap out of each other or they’ll start maneuvering together and
none of us will stand a chance.”

“That’s a fact,” Arthur agreed, moving Sid’s name to a table a few yards away.

“If they end up together after the eliminations, so be it, but I’m not giving them any advantages.”

“So Tina’s okay with you playing tonight, huh?” Zack teased, knowing that the very question
would rub the Alaskan the wrong way. “Figured the little woman would want you at home on a
Friday night,” and he completed his comment by making several cracking sound as he pretended
to snap a whip.

John rolled his eyes, not taking the bait. “‘Laugh it up, fuzz ball,’” he answered, quoting Han
Solo in The Empire Strikes Back. The words obviously found their mark for he heard the audible
laughs. “You let Tina see you doing that and you’ll be the one getting your ass whipped.”

Those around them made the obligatory “Oooooooooo” sound.

“You stepped right into that one, didn’t you, ya nong?” Terry was about to burst out laughing but
managed to control himself.

“Ya nong! Good on ya, Terry!” shouted Johnny Ryan.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Zack growled, “and why can’t you learn how to speak fucking English?!
Arthur! Just make sure I start out at a table without these two around. I don’t need the harassment
and I don’t need their bad karma, and I really don’t need John with his load of Star Wars greatest
insult hits!”

Biebe, too, was chuckling, and feeling in one of his better moods in the last few months, and as
he put out another automatic card shuffler, he glanced to one side…and grinned, pleased with
what he saw. “I’ve been meaning to tell you….You’ve been doing an awful lot of smiling lately.”

“I’m sorry, John. Were you talking to me?” the other man asked, startled out of his reverie.

“I was just saying that I’ve noticed you’ve been smiling a lot lately.”
“Have I?” Jack Corbett’s eyes lowered to the floor. “You mean…You mean I usually don’t?” He
seemed almost surprised, but was not at all defensive.

“Well…you’ve always been so serious, I mean, not in a bad way of course, but you just always
have been, ever since I’ve known you, but I realize that’s how you are.”

“But you’ve noticed…”

John shrugged. “It’s the way I am. You can take the sheriff out of law enforcement…or something
like that, I don’t know. Sorry…that wasn’t coming out quite right. Guess you know what I mean.”

Jack smiled, then – as if realizing what he was doing – attempted to change his expression as he
placed another box of new cards on the table. “I do, John…I do. Even after all these years, I can’t
help putting on my lawyer’s hat now and then, especially when I see some telly show or movie
that isn’t exactly…realistic. What do you call it? Force of habit?”

“Force of habit, yeah. I still catch Tina doing it. Don’t let her in the same room with an episode of
CSI. That crap still rubs her the wrong way.”

Corbett nodded. “Can’t say I blame her.” He returned to what he was doing, hoping that the
conversation was at an end. It was not that he disliked John – in fact, the sheriff was one of his
favorite siblings, but he was concerned that it might be easier for someone as astute as the
American to sense what was happening with him, and he was not ready for that, not yet.

“So…everything all right, Jack, eh?”

Jack could hear the sincere concern in his brother’s voice. “Sure it is, John. I’m doing fine….Just
a lot of things on my mind I guess. Then I think of some joke I heard a week or a month ago
and…” He rubbed a finger over his lips. “…you look at me just when I’m laughing over it again.
I feel like a gallah. Glad it was you that caught me doing that and not some of the others. I’d
never live it down. They’d say I was losing my mind laughing over some joke from a few weeks
back.”

“Yeah….Nothing like being the butt of a joke, especially when you’re on the receiving end.”

“I know they don’t mean it but…well…I’d rather not…not if I can help it.”

“Sure.” John smiled. “Glad it was me then.”

“Too right.” A few more minutes and then he could excuse himself and…

“I was thinking though…I’m surprised Tina hadn’t noticed either…about you smiling more….”
The second Corbett turned to dispute the accusation – near confusion on his features – Biebe
threw up his hands. “I’m just saying…it has to have been a hell of a lot more than a joke you
remembered…or it must have been the best damn joke in Creation! You’ve been smiling more for
several weeks now…and…I’m glad.”

“I…” For the first time in all his years at Crowe’s Point, the crack attorney seemed uncertain how
to respond. “It’s…honestly John…it’s nothing.”
“Well, there’s nothing I’d like more for you…me and Tina both…there’s nothing we’d like more
than to think…Shit! Jack?” John’s voice dropped to a near whisper, and he glimpsed over both
shoulders to check the vicinity before asking “Have you met someone?”

There was no need for Jack Corbett to answer in words. The blood was already rising to his face
and he ducked his head, busying himself.

“Jack! There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m happy for you. Tina will be…”

“Don’t…” But he paused, not wishing to make all of this even more bewildering, and he was
angry with himself for being unable to prevent the increasing blush heating his cheeks. “I…no
one knows, John, not…not…Don’t say anything to Tina. I know she’s your wife and you
probably tell her everything but…between brothers…”

John nodded, for the first time seeing the usually self-assured young man – the one who went
about his duties so perfectly and nearly robotically until he often did not seem human – appear as
awkward as Dominic or Arthur…and nearly as innocent. “Sure…my lips are sealed, I promise….
It’s just…I’m glad to see you happy. I hope she makes you happy…there’s no better feeling in the
world is there?”

And of course now he had to wonder about her identity, and he searched back over the past weeks
since becoming aware of Corbett’s change of attitude. There was never a lack of pretty – and sexy
– lurkers, always curious about the characteristics of each of the incarnations, and while Jack
normally fascinated a decent share of them, as far as John knew, it rarely went beyond the walls
of the Tavern. Well shit John…his room isn’t beyond the walls of the Tavern if I want to get literal
about it! It was only that a lurker did not seem to be the type to have Jack smiling so much, or to
transform his face into a bright red beet! Now were it Sid or Kim they were talking about….

Jack’s hand was now rubbing the back of an equally crimson neck. “I…Yeah…I…Yeah….Uh…
can you think of anything more you need me to do? I have the new decks all laid out, and the
notepads and pencils and…”

“No, not really. You’ve been a big help with everything…as usual. Look…why don’t you go
ahead and get out of here for a while? I’ll catch you later tonight.”

“Ta John. See ya!” and with that, he was casually moving across the Tavern floor, greeting
everyone as if the chat had never taken place and was quickly up the main stairs.

John sighed, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what to make of that conversation, but he was
suddenly aware of one other very small difference he noticed about Jack: not only was he smiling
more, but the Alaskan was fairly certain that the young Aussie was carrying a few extra pounds.
Not a great deal – he was far from obese, and with him working out it was not overly noticeable,
but if one paid very close attention to the normally slight frame….

Oh now what? John could hear Sid’s voice at an unusual high pitch and he was saying something
to the recently arrived Max Skinner, who obviously was not backing down.

“Oh well we all know what you can do with those grapes of yours…if that’s what you call them!”
Sid was snidely announcing. “I say leave them on the vine, let ‘em shrivel…and maybe someone
in the kitchen can throw the raisins into the Christmas fruit cakes!”
The hysterical giggle was immediately muffled when the air was knocked out of his lungs….

John thought he saw purple and several other blends of colors flying through the air and strike the
floor, before a blurred set of figures were hidden amongst a gathering group. All thoughts of Jack
Corbett left his mind.

Never a dull moment and if this was a sampling of what the evening was going to hold….

Lord help us!

i
The quote for the review of the 2003 St. Innocent Pinot Noir White Rose was taken from Northwest-Wine.com,
specifically http://www.northwest-wine.com/wine-spectator-top-rated-northwest-wines.html.

Part Two

“So no ladies’ night then?”

Tina smiled and shook her head in answer to her husband’s inquiry, permitting her body to completely relax into
the supple upholstery of the master bedroom chaise lounge. “Not this time out I’m afraid. Some of the girls
aren’t even here and it wouldn’t have been any fun without them, so we figured, well, nobody said ladies’ night
always has to correspond with the boys’ monthly poker game. I mean…would have been nice and all, but…oh
well….We’ll survive.”

“Sorry it didn’t work out.”

“No problem. Besides…I’m glad you all decided to get this knocked out for November. That way we won’t have
to worry about squeezing it in right before or right after Thanksgiving.”

John eased his larger frame onto the available space beside his wife. “That’s a fact, and with the holidays coming
up, the game’s usually on hold anyway until right before New Year’s…”

“Exactly.”

“So this works.”

“Yeah…and honestly…” She sighed, her right fingers unconsciously drifting down to her abdomen. “I’m not
sure I was really up for it yet, and then with Maximilian’s arrival…”

“I think everybody understands.”

“I mean…I know we just sit around gossiping and watching movies and…”

“I’m sure…” and now the Alaskan’s hand moved to cover hers, the one still pressed over her stomach, “…I
know they’ll understand. Besides…this place only needs one wild party tonight.”

“You just watch yourself, Sheriff Biebe. When I go over to the Tavern tomorrow morning, I don’t want to find
the place in shambles. Now a few drunks passed out under the table or lying out in the front courtyard is one
thing…No…strike that. Drunks passed out in the courtyard gives the place a bad reputation and besides…it’ll
ruin the view.”

“Ruin the…” John began to chuckle.

“So as a member of law enforcement – if you’re not too out of it yourself – please make sure they all pass out in
their respective rooms or under a table inside.”

“Duly noted. So…what’s my beautiful wife got on her schedule tonight? Anything special?”

“I…” and the biggest smile appeared on her lips as she tossed back her head, already imagining her plans, “I am
going to take a nice…long…well-deserved hydrotherapy bubble bath with all the spa jets going…”

“Sounds good.”
“And I’m going to try out the new lighting system,” she continued, indicating the underwater colored lights that
worked in unison with the water jets and could be adjusted based on the bather’s mood, “because I just whipped
up a really nice combination too for my bath salts…”

“Go ahead.” John was giving her the closest attention, already imagining her shapely figure sliding beneath the
thick, white, scented foam. Tina might remain deeply skeptical, even after these years at the Point, but for him,
there was nothing more lovely than the sight of her Rubenesque curves.

“Sweet orange zest and lavender.”

“For…?”

“Calming the soul and unwinding the mind.”

“You know…”

“Hmm?”

Biebe wiggled his eyebrows. “I could find some excuse for not going to the poker tournament tonight.”

“Oh no, no, no. I need you there to keep an eye on things.”

“It might be a very bloodshot one, sweetheart…”

“Bloodshot or not, I need you there.”

“Okay,” John grudgingly agreed. “So…what else for tonight?”

“Mmmm…my bubble bath…curling up in a nice thick chamois robe…kicking back with a salad – maybe with
roasted chicken and fresh apples and grapes – then pop up a big bowl of popcorn, and I was thinking…” She
shrugged dreamily. “…I was thinking Pandora’s Box or Sunrise….maybe Nosferatu or…”

“So you’re in silent movie mode tonight?”

“I might even do a DeMille drawing room comedy double-bill….I’ll see. Just depends on what I’m in the mood
for when I get out of the tub.”

“And here I am planning to spend the night in a smoke-filled room with a bunch of drunks.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Yeah…? Oh…I know…Shower when I get home and before I come to bed.”

“Thank you. And if you do get in real late…I promise to let you sleep in tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” John joked, but then grew more serious. “I uh…I wish you were getting together with some of the
other ladies and…”

“Well…we all had things we could be doing I guess, and sometimes…” She appeared almost guilty.
“Sometimes…I like having a little time to myself.”

“Sure you do…especially with everything…” But he paused, patted the back of her hand and cleared his throat.
“Well…glad that we both have plans for the evening…and if I’m lucky…”
“How much is the pot this month?”

John clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Eleven hundred dollars.”

Tina whistled. “That would make a nice little haul.”

“We’ll see….Everybody seems up for it.”

“Good, good…and…everything is all right?” Her head bent to one side, the brown eyes indicating that she could
sense something he had not said.

Damn and here I promised…. “Everything’s fine, darlin’,” he answered quite normally.

“Sure?”

“Sure.” But on noticing the uncertainty he shook his head and smiled. “Look…I was just thinking about Jack
‘cause I talked to him earlier when we were setting things up and…”

“There’s nothing wrong with him and Beej, is there?”

“Oh…Oh no…not that Jack.”

“You mean young Jack? He’s never …Is he all right?”

“I think he’s fine, sweetheart. I guess he’s fine. I…We were talking this afternoon…brother talk, that’s all.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just rare to have much of any kind of talk with him and…well…it was nice.”

“Really?” Tina sighed. “Okay. Good. I do worry about him sometimes though. He’s a good man, he’s quiet…
he’s no trouble at all.”

“Hey, that ought to be a blessing around this place.” John was thinking about that assist in breaking up the fight
between Max and Sid.

“I agree – you’ll get no argument from me about that,” she laughed. “But…considering how long he’s been here,
it would be nice….Oh well, I’m rambling again. Sorry.”

So Tina hasn’t sensed anything…or if she has, she’s just not sure so she’s not going to tell me out of turn. At least
I won’t have to say what Jack and I talked about…. “No…that’s all right, darlin’. Sometimes…Sometimes I
think I need to hear it sounded out so that it makes sense to me.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought it was good, you know, talking to him. He just doesn’t talk a lot – never has.”

“I know. I mean…I’ve always liked him,” Tina admitted, “especially once you get to know him, and he’s
friendly enough, and he and Lachlan have always gotten along with them having the same era in common. But
sometimes…he does seem to be a tad…withdrawn, doesn’t he, and it doesn’t help when some new brother
arrives to send all the hearts a-fluttering.” She playfully fanned herself and in the phoniest Southern accent she
could muster said, “I swear…all these handsome men around here. I was up all night thinking about it. Nearly
gave myself the vapors.”

“The…Never mind,” the Alaskan chuckled. “Well…at least they’re coming a little further apart so that helps…
helps you anyway.” His wife smiled back. “I’m just glad Max’s arrival didn’t hit you too hard. You didn’t need
one of those bad bouts, not after all you’ve been…”

“No…Max was easy. I hope they’re all that way.” She leaned back, closing her brown eyes as she did. “And just
think…I made a very nice little killing on the stock market thanks to him being inside my head.” She looked at
John. “That and I can text message and drive with no hands on the wheel….Just kidding….Hey…it’s almost six-
thirty. Shouldn’t you be getting out of here?”

“You in a big hurry to get rid of me?”

“Yes.”

Pretending to pout, Biebe groaned. “Well, that was blunt! No seriously, I guess I’d better head on over there…
just in case Max and Sid get into it again.”

“You never did tell me what started it.”

“Same old, same old. Max is the new kid in town, which automatically means that Sid hates his guts. Sid swears
he’ll behave tonight though – said he’s only thinking of the kitty.”

“I hope so, although I can’t imagine what he could get for $1100 considering his tastes. Oh! I take that back. A
bottle of very expensive wine, a very expensive tie, a very expensive shirt or two or three…depending on
whether he gets some kind of frequent buyer discount from his designer. But look…” and she gently took the
collar of his shirt, smoothing away the imagined wrinkles, “you take care of yourself and have a good time – you
deserve it. Try to stay out of any fights…if you can.”

“Yeah…well…can’t make any promises. I swear…I think I’m going to ask for a TASER for Christmas.”

“Hey! Not before I get one first,” she teased, then growing serious again she said, “I know you can’t make any
promises, but…just…” and she kissed his bearded cheek, “be careful, okay? Come home in one piece…or as
close to it as possible.”

“Yes ma’am…and hey…look darlin’…I’m sure some of the ladies would come over and keep you company
if…”

“I’m not going to get lonely, John and from what few conversations I’ve had, sounds like everybody has
something up.”

“With obviously no men involved, eh?”

“Guess not. All of you are going to be at the game after all.”

John shrugged, carefully forming his next words. “Well…if any of them are feeling a bit happier than usual I’m
sure they’ll…”

“Like they’ve made a connection? Oh no…no…I don’t think so. Nobody’s said a thing. I haven’t felt a thing. I
know I’ve been under the weather lately but…” and she rapidly shook her head. “No…I’m sure I would have
noticed. Why? You thinking Max has found someone already?”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

“You do that!” she excitedly replied, then glancing once more at the clock she began to gently push him away.
“Now go…get out of here! I know you’ll be hitting the buffet before the game starts anyway. I’ll see you when I
see you, okay?”

“Okay….You have a good one, sweetheart – don’t wait up for me.”

And that was that. No clue as to whether any of the unattached ladies were happier than usual; no small tug in
that intuition so particular to a Keeper. John sighed to himself as he left the master bedroom and started his
descent down the staircase, realizing that he was not going to obtain an answer this evening. Oh well…not that it
was crucial, but the investigative side of him was simply inquisitive, and part of him figured that when Tina had
time to consider it, the former crime scene technician would feel the same. Nothing like a little mystery around
the Point to keep things interesting.

Part Three

He could remember with the greatest clarity that very moment during the spring when he first – and finally – laid
eyes on her. It was downstairs in the Tavern, the evening when nearly everyone seemed present, and the Keeper
had stood on the stage with a beautiful young stranger beside her, and in a clear voice introduced the new
Crowe’s Point chef to those assembled. The children had applauded excitedly – children…that was how he
referred to his younger brothers, and behaved as they might when cheering on their favorite footy team. No
class…no grace…nothing at all to enchant such a woman, except for youthful enthusiasm, and when one was
realistic, how long would that appeal to her before she became bored and began to seek out an adult.

And it was not for lack of trying that he attempted to establish a link with her. He had been a perfect gentleman,
easing – not shoving – his way through the small crowd that had gathered about the newest arrival. He had
patiently – why the hell was that word entering his vocabulary more and more now – waited his turn, and when
she had finished speaking with Anthony and Stephanie, he recalled her turning slightly so that he could better see
her profile…that lovely classic profile, those features so similar to those of the erstwhile Princess of Monaco. He
smiled, bowed his head…she noticed and bowed hers…then he moved forward, carefully took one hand in his,
and as though observing it all from outside his own body, he heard himself say his name and then welcome her
to the Point.

She barely said a word to him before Tina had rushed her away to meet someone else.

You would think I didn’t matter. You would think I didn’t exist. And Tina – bless her – is a real lady herself, but
they are so in fear of me...of what I might say…of what I might do. As if I could ever, ever hurt such an angel.
They honestly thought she wouldn’t give me the time of day!

But how wrong they were, and they didn’t even realize it.

Kim’s reflection smiled back at him as he looked in the bathroom mirror, dressing quite carefully, albeit casually,
despite the fact that he was going to play poker.

It seemed – from that moment – that there was not a night when he had not dreamt of her. They always took
some form, the plots were never the same but they always involved him touching her heart in some manner, and
making her realize how much he cared. On several occasions they took the shape of a motion picture, and if he
was not the director – lording over the set as if the spirits of Hitchcock, Preminger and Von Stroheim had
channeled him – and leaving nothing to chance when it came to his leading lady, he was the star of the imagined
movie in his dream. He was Cary Grant the former cat burglary, involved in a bit of passion with an aristocratic
Adalia who suspected him of having come out of retirement, the two making love while the fireworks lit the
darkened Monte Carol nights. He was Bing Crosby, the former husband of the Philadelphia beauty about to
remarry…wooing her onboard their sailboat, singing True Love to her, breaking through that marble façade and
revealing a real woman. He was Bob Cummings, saving her from the death penalty when she was accused of
murder (he had loved that her evil husband, the one she no longer loved, and the one that her framed her, was
Bud White).

But his favorite was of him in the wheelchair with a broken leg, sitting by the windows in his overheated New
York apartment, and being awakened by the scent of gardenias, the touch of her mouth against his….She
believed that his neighbor had murdered the wife….She even climbed into the apartment across the way to find
proof of the horrible deed….The sight of her in that billowing dress, climbing up the fire escape ladder….

His own version of Rear Window had months before done what he already knew.

He was in love with Adalia. He was in love for the first time in his life…and eventually I’m going to tell all of
them, and I’m going to watch them squirm and shake and call me a liar, but I’ll have the last word, and I’ll show
them…I’ll show them that Kim Barrett can love someone just like the fucking rest of them. And yeah...know that
somebody loves me in return. It’s not so impossible. I’m a man. The Creator made me just like he did the others.
Why is it so hard to believe that I can’t be in love?

It was just too bad he couldn’t announce it tonight, not bombastically as would be expected of him, but quietly,
very off the cuff, perhaps while he was perusing his hand, the others annoyed and waiting to hear what he would
do: bet, pass or call. He might take one card…he might take two. He honestly didn’t need them. He was bluffing
and driving them up and through the wall, savoring the fact that he held the winning cards, and with a yawn, he
would stretch and say in his sincerest voice, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you all. I’ve actually
been afraid to…knowing how some of you would react – you can stop laughing anytime now Bud – but I think
now’s the time because…well…we’re really tired of keeping it a secret.”

Kim sighed, smiling, running a thumb over his lips. “Why the hell did you agree to monthly poker night? This
should have been the time…” and he paused, thinking. “Oh Kim…what to do….What to do….”

Part Four

He watched with the greatest patience, amazed that he actually held his breath when she approached the side
table on which two silver candlesticks had been placed, two willowy candlesticks, exactly like limbs, on which
the candle cups were nests for the birds delicately perched upon the edges. He was struck by the fact that he had
never seen anything like them before, and he thought them much like her – exceptional, delicate but strong.
From where he was situated, he had a perfect view of every movement from the second she crossed the room
after dimming the lights, her footfall incredibly delicate, her body graceful, elegant, and filled with dancer’s
poise. When she stepped out of the sunken living room and up into the dining room, he was taken by the way she
eased the black lace shawl over the honey blonde tresses, an action that came so easily after years of performing
the act. And in the partial darkness he could see a hand raise, strike a match, then touch the wick of one taper,
setting it afire, and when that was blazing a bright ruby with hints of yellow the second taper joined it, black-
blue shadows now dancing amidst colors of red and gold.

Her hair, too, had become the color of the beginnings of the sunset outside, but nothing -- not the sundown, not
what he was missing at the Tavern -- beyond the walls of the carriage house were in his thoughts. There was only
her. And he waited, remembering what he had read and had attempted to imagine in preparing for this…when a
soft pair of creamy hands positioned themselves just above the flames and once, twice, three times, made a
circular motion above them.

To welcome the Sabbath he recalled.

Her hands now moved to cover her eyes and in a voice that was strong despite the tears he could hear very
gently tugging at her throat, she began to recite:
 Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam

Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe, he silently thought in English.

asher kidishanu b'mitz'votav v'tzivanu

Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us…

l'had'lik neir shel Shabbat. (Amein)

…to light the lights of Shabbat. (Amen)

Her eyes were once more revealed: brilliant, glowing, happy, as the goblet before her was now lifted from a tray,
positioning it between her and the flames so that now, the sterling silver base began to glisten, and the deep blue
of the glass positioned within it grew nearly iridescent, causing the burgundy liquid within to emit one spark,
then another.

Vay'hi erev vay'hi voker yom hashishi

And there was evening and there was morning, a sixth day….Funny how one could forget the teachings of youth,
and briefly he attempted to remember the story in Genesis and what each day had welcomed as the world was
created in less than a week. There had been a void and then there was life. The sun had taken form; a lesser light
was set in the Heavens to rule the night. What day had the fishes come? And the animals…?

vay'khulu hashamayim v'ha'aretz v'khol tz'va'am

The heavens and the earth were finished, the whole host of them….

‘So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them’
he again added to himself. Now where did that come from? I haven’t thought about that verse in years!

vay'khal elohim bayom hash'vi'i m'la'kh'to asher asah

And on the seventh day God completed his work that he had done…

vayish'bot bayom hash'vi'i mikol m'la'kh'to asher asah

…and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done

Vay'varekh Elohim et yom hash'vi'i vay'kadeish oto

And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it…

ki vo shavat mikol m'la'kh'to asher bara Elohim la'asot

…because in it he had rested from all his work that God had created to do

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha-olam

Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe

borei p'ri hagafen (Amein)

Who creates the fruit of the vine. But this time, his “Amen” was spoken out loud, causing Adalia’s eyes to look
to the side in order to better seen him…and smile, then her attention returned to what she was doing.

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha-olam

Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe…

asher kid'shanu b'mitz'votav v'ratzah vanu

…who sanctifies us with his commandments, and has been pleased with us

v'shabat kad'sho b'ahavah uv'ratzon hin'chilanu zikaron l'ma'aseih v'rei'shit

You have lovingly and willingly given us Your holy Shabbat as an inheritance, in memory of creation…

ki hu yom t'chilah l'mik'ra'ei kodesh zeikher litzi'at Mitz'rayim

…because it is the first day of our holy assemblies, in memory of the exodus from Egypt…

ki vanu vachar'ta v'otanu kidash'ta mikol ha'amim

…because You have chosen us and made us holy from all peoples…

v'shabat kad'sh'kha b'ahavah uv'ratzon hin'chal'tanu

…and have willingly and lovingly given us Your holy Shabbat for an inheritance.

Barukh atah Adonai m'kadeish hashabat (Amein).

Blessed are You, who sanctifies Shabbat, and once again his “Amen” simultaneous with her, catching himself
actually accenting the word so that he pronounced it as exactly as she did.

The Kiddush – the blessing over the wine – now completed, he leaned forward, taking the pitcher, and before his
hostess could perform the duty, poured some water into his clear cup and then into hers.

“I should have done that for you,” she whispered. “You’re a guest in…”

“It’s all right,” he whispered back, then picking up the glass, very carefully poured the liquid over the top, then
the bottom of his right hand. The cup was moved to the opposite hand, and he repeated the ritual with the left,
but the towel, although nearby upon the white tablecloth, was not taken, for once more he paused and listened.

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha-olam

Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe

asher kidishanu b'mitz'votav v'tzivanu

Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us

al n'tilat yadayim.

…concerning washing of hands.

Now he could dry his hands, as did Adalia, and he caught himself again becoming enamored of her every
movement, as she reverently removed the intricate silver cloth stitched with the images of birds and Persian
flowers – a hint of centuries long gone, when there had been Jews in the empire of Darius and Xerxes.
Underneath were two small, braided golden loaves upon a tray of cherry wood – the Challah loaves for the
Sabbath, and over these, she recited:

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha-olam

Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe

hamotzi lechem min ha'aretz. (Amein).

…who brings forth bread from the earth. (Amen) but with ease, he repeated the final two lines in Hebrew, even
while hearing the English in his head, amazed at how simply it came off his lips…knowing that the time he had
taken to rehearse this would lend it even more authenticity. He did it out of respect for her, for what was
important to her, not to ingratiate himself but to show that he took it as seriously as she did. It would have been
quite simple to have sat there and muttered along or pretended to care, but what he had shared – what she had
shared with him. It had been worth it to come!

“And now…?” he grinned, knowing very well what would come next.

Adalia rammed the edge of the silver knife blade into the moist loaf, and once a slice was cut away, she offered it
to him. “And now…we eat!”

“Great…because I…am…starved.”

“I figured you would be,” she replied, laughing and finally taking a seat at the table so that she was at the head
and he was just to her left. She took a slice for herself, tearing off a smaller piece to nibble at while she talked.
“You always bring an appetite.”

“Well, if I don’t watch it, people are going to say that I only see you because of my appetite.” Momentarily he
saw the flash in Adalia’s eyes, part of her becoming quite protective while the other part of her remained in good
humor.

“They wouldn’t dare…and besides…a way to a man’s heart and all of that, you know. My grandmothers told me
that all the time, and okay, it’s old-fashioned, but I still think it kind of rings true.”

“Yeah…” He smiled gently, wondering why even the simplest motions on her part made him so attentive, such
as now, as she ate the piece of Challah.

“I did want to apologize in advance to you though…”

He swallowed the bread he was chewing, and puzzled, asked, “Oh? Why? Everything…” and he looked around
him, at the fine linen on the table as well as the good dishes that served as the place settings. Each item – from
the Challah to the instruments used as part of the ceremony – had obviously been carefully selected for the
benefit of the evening, to make it a wonderful celebration and to be welcoming to him, as both a guest and a
stranger to all of these things. What in the world would she have to be sorry about?

“Shabbat dinners are usually pretty simple. Hearty…but simple. I just wanted to warn you that it’s not going to
be fancy. And a lot of it…” she started to ramble, as if uncertain how he might take this.

“Adalia…”
“I had to prepare in advance because once Shabbat begins…”

“You can’t do any cooking…I know.”

“And some of it I finished right…”

“Adalia…” He was nearly chuckling at how nervous she seemed to be, despite this not being their first time
alone together.

“…before you came so…”

“Addie.”

His name for her caused her to stop, the spoken word striking her with an intensity she did not imagine possible,
but not as though she had been struck by lightning. No, it was quiet, nearly understated, but nonetheless so
powerful that he saw how her eyes widened, and a smile crept to her mouth, an action that let him know that all
was well.

“Yes?”

“Whatever you cooked…it’s fine…and…” He took a deep breath. “It smells…great. So…simple but hearty,
huh? What’s on the menu? Talk me through it.” He had been uncomplaining, but now the combining of aromas
was beginning to drive him mad, and he hoped that the rumbling of his stomach didn’t completely give him
away! He was reminded of Thanksgiving, of everyone gathered around several tables, and someone – usually
one of the younger boys – trying to nab a slice of turkey while all the heads were bowed during the prayer.

“Well, it’s all Kosher – I told you it would be,” she eagerly explained, starting to remove the covers protecting
the dishes and bowls, “but you are going to love it! I know you are….I made the hummus from scratch and it’ll
go great with your Challah – it has paprika and virgin olive oil…and I made mushroom blintzes because I
remembered you liking mushrooms…” She winked. “There’s a little Russian in that you know with them being
blintzes and all, and I figured I wouldn’t make you try Gefilte fish the first time out…”

“Thank you because I’m still not sure what Gefilte fish are…or is…or…well…whatever,” he giggled.

“It can be a little odd,” she confessed, wrinkling her nose, “especially if you buy it in a jar in a grocery store,
so…to play it safe…I thought I would go with a tuna mousse.”

“Tuna…Oh…I love tuna…the blintzes sound fantastic and I can’t wait to try the hummus….So…that’s dinner
then?” he asked quite innocently because it did seem like quite a bit.

“Are you kidding? No! Unless you want me to take it all back to the…”

“No…No.” He loved it when she teased him this way. “What else did you make?”

“Well…I wanted you to have a sample of a couple of Kosher entrees…so…I did a barbecue glazed chicken with
roasted potatoes and…I let a beef brisket cook in the crock pot all day…and there’s roasted asparagus…and for
dessert, I made a sweet chocolate mousse cake. I know you like chocolate…”

“I love chocolate.”

“And it’s not real heavy so it’ll go perfectly with the meal. Oh…we have wine of course and….” She took a deep
breath. “I…I hope I didn’t overdo it.”
“Over…?” He shook his head. “You…Adalia…you…are sharing something really important with me, and yeah,
it involves food at this point…” and they both laughed, “but…I don’t think you could ever overdo it.”

“Good,” and Adalia began to eagerly spoon some of the appetizers on his plate. “Just say when…and you have
to save room for the chicken and beef and I chose a very nice little wine to go with supper, one that won’t get
overwhelmed with all the flavors. Oh and the coffeemaker is all ready to go, and I thought that might be nice
with dessert of course….”

But all he did was lovingly watch, as he had all evening, desiring nothing more than to reach out and take those
hands that had so devotedly circled the candle flames before covering her eyes. Every tiny thing that made
Adalia what she was, he wanted to gather close and not let go, and for this…for this time with her, he had given
up the monthly poker game…and knew it was something for which he would never repent.

“I’m glad I came,” he told her, smiling broadly when she paused in dipping out her own food to return his
expression.

“Yeah…I’m glad you came too.”

Then without thinking about any type of consequences – not that there would be any – he permitted himself to
kiss her nearest cheek, hoping she did not notice that he was turning a bright shade of red.

No one, not in his time at the Point, had made him feel the way Adalia Rabinovich did, and not for the first time
since slipping away from the Tavern did Jack Corbett regret anything he had done that night.

Love is a Many-Splendoured Thing

Part Five

Lovers.

There was something especially sweet about the word, the way it caressed his thoughts, the manner in which it
wafted through his ears, and yet, he was nearly afraid to speak it out loud for fear that it would cause the world
to fade around him. A new world to which he was becoming too accustomed after so many years of being alone,
knowing in his heart and in that razor-sharp mind of his that all this was authentic, not a dream that would end as
rapidly as the snap of his fingers.

Jack Corbett inhaled and smiled, permitting the reality to wash over him again. He could smell the burnt wood in
the hearth, and the heady combining aroma of fruit and spices – peaches and lemons and pomegranates, nutmeg
and cinnamon – of the roses throughout the living room, but nearer, right beneath him, was the warmth of a very
feminine scent, her body still exuding peony and jasmine as the rose and Clementine faded, and once, perhaps
twice, he caught a hint of sandalwood, musk and patchouli. He sighed and looked down, wanting to remember,
wanting to savor each moment of this evening with her, loving the feel of her weight in the crook of his arm, her
head resting upon his right shoulder and the hazel eyes cast downward as she watched – not slept, but watched
the red hot embers on the glowing logs. He was nearly afraid to move or breathe for fear that it would actually
end; that it was all his imagination….

Until he felt one hand ease along the cotton piqué weave of the chocolate colored polo shirt, each finger moving
unhurriedly up his chest and then at last, finding rest upon his neck.

Lovers.
Corbett kissed the top of the golden head and rubbed his cheek against it.

So this is how my brothers feel….

Adalia stirred, shivering as she did and Jack rose up.

“You cold?” he whispered.

Adalia shook her head as she sighed. “Just a bit…I’m fine….Hmm…looks like the fire’s nearly out.”

“I can add another…”

“That’s okay,” she told him, sounding unwilling to let him leave her side. “I’m fine…honest,” but the moment
she said it, she trembled again.

“There – I knew it. Won’t take but a minute…” and before she could draw him back, Jack was up and had
crossed the short distance between where they relaxed and the fireplace. After removing cherry hardwood from
the rack, he opened the fire screen’s arched doors and stacked the log on top of the woodpile. Giving that a few
jabs with the poker, and seeming satisfied that the fire was properly maintained, he secured the screen doors then
wiped his hands on a nearby towel. “That ought to do it for a while yet….Keep it going another hour or two…
until bedtime.”

Only now did he glance back to see Adalia’s image, the way she was watching him as he went about such a
simple duty. The shapely legs were drawn beneath her; her bare arms neatly folded over her chest as she gently
rubbed away the chill, and he was struck once more by how beautiful the black satin top and the blue and black
skirt with its’ intricate Eastern designs enhanced not only her body, but her complexion. Jack could barely wait
to move across the hardwood floor and back to her side in front of the cream-colored sofa, that one or two feet
seeming more like miles. Before long, she was snuggling against him once more, her head returning to its’ now
familiar resting place.

“Better?” he softly asked, smiling on seeing the nod, pleased to feel her at his side and silently delighted when
her fingers once more sought out his neckline.

“This… is very nice,” she sighed.

“So is this the proper way to spend Shabbat then?”

“Uh…” Adalia giggled, “well…”

“Well…what?”

“Maybe not.”

“Maybe not?”

“Maybe…not,” she repeated. “Can’t this wait?” she lazily asked, wanting nothing more than to continue to
remain quiet and safe as she was now.

“But I thought you told me that it was a time of rest,” he teased.

“It is…It is…but…”

“But…what? Adalia Rabinovich…”

“What?” She buried her face deeper into the fabric of his shirt.

“I thought you were going to share the whole Shabbat experience with me?” It almost tickled, feeling her warm
breath as she tried not to laugh, attempting to keep a tone of seriousness about the entire thing but finding it
difficult. “Now I find out you’re holding back on me, eh?”

“Jack…”

“Go on….There’s more…I know there is.”

“You tell me then, Lieutenant. You’re the one that said you had been studying all of this to get ready.”

He grinned. “Well…we ate a good meal.”

“We did…”

“And it was wonderful.”

“Thank you, sir…and…you even managed to leave me some leftovers for Saturday for which I am extremely
grateful,” she joked, giving his stomach a slight massage.

Corbett laughed, shaking his head as he did. Odd how he also realized that he had not laughed so much in his
years in this world until the two of them became acquainted. “Well, I wasn’t starving before you came to the
Point but…there’s just something about your…” He paused, afraid of appearing ridiculous to her if he continued
in that line of thought. He was recalling a movie he had seen years before in which the heroine’s very emotions
were emitted through her cooking, and although he knew that to be a fantasy, there had been times over the last
months when he wondered the same of Adalia’s cuisine.

“Something about my…what?”

“It’s…just that there’s something about…Well…you’ll laugh…” he nearly stammered.

Adalia shrugged. “Possibly. Should I?” Her eyes sparkled. “There is something about …something of mine…
that…”

“Your cooking,” he confessed. “It’s as if you put your soul into it…and I know, I know…that may be one of the
most outlandish things anyone has ever said to you…If you tell me it’s as bad as any of the stupidest phrases in
history used by a man to attract a woman, I won’t be surprised.”

“Oh…I don’t know about that, Lieutenant Corbett. Remember…I went to school in London and Paris and New
York, and you would not believe the things some of those people say because they think they’re so sophisticated,
and especially…” Her smile grew. “…especially if they think they’re – depending on the situation – either
impressing or dissing the backwards country yokel from Indiana…or the primitive ‘ugly’ American. It’s hard
keeping a straight face.”

Jack could just imagine it, his mind visualizing some moment when she was away studying so intensely at some
of the best cooking schools in the world, and finding herself surrounded by snobbery or obnoxious flirtation. He
could see her listening patiently, and then striking back in that subtle way of hers that reminded him of Myrna
Loy’s quick-witted Nora Charles character. It was amazing how a few well chosen words could land as powerful
a punch as one of Braddock’s right jabs.
“I can sympathize,” he told her. “Remember…I’m from the land of convicts. We’re all either descended from
criminals or we’re stereotypes of Crocodile Dundee. There’s not supposed to be such a thing as a literate
Aussie.”

“See….So no…no…what you said…that wasn’t outlandish.” Her voice grew quieter as she mulled over his
words, and she felt herself instinctively moving closer to his body as if attempting to become one, her free right
hand brushing across one cheek and then the shape of his lips. “I…try. My food…my cooking…that’s the way I
express myself, almost more than any other way.”

“Like an artist with a brush and easel…or a writer with words on a page.”

“Yeah…exactly.”

“So I wasn’t too far from the truth.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

“I guess not….That was…very sweet of you…what you said, I mean.”

Jack could feel his face growing redder and he cleared his throat, almost embarrassed that he had been correct. It
was still difficult realizing that there were things he could share with her in ways he had found impossible in the
past, but wanting to lighten the moment again he quipped, “I still think…they’re going to say that I only took up
with you because you feed me the way you do. I’ve even put on some weight.”

Adalia smiled sweetly. “Have you?” She permitted her fingers to now move about his waist and his abdomen,
detecting not stoutness but a firm, young form that was not as lean as before. She remembered that he had tended
towards thinness, like his other younger siblings, but his had been a slightly more mature body at any rate and
the private meals he enjoyed appeared to have filled him out until he was even more handsome than on their first
meeting. “I never noticed and let them say what they want. I’ve told you what they can do with their opinions,
didn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t want to be the one to cross you.”

“That’s because you know me…and I know you, and that’s all that matters. Now…I thought you wanted me to
tell you…”

“Right. Let’s see…uh…well…as I said, we had a good meal…”

“And I recited some of our prayers and our blessings…”

“But if you were at home with your family…?” He knew that she missed them – she was often speaking of them,
and he felt he was beginning to know them quite well.

“If I was at home, we’d likely go to the synagogue, if not on Friday evening then in the morning…Saturday
morning. My parents loved us being able to spend the start of Shabbat at home, probably because there were so
many times when we weren’t together. Dad might be stationed away from us overseas or even stateside, and…
and Mom would be keeping house back in Indiana….Then we all sort of went our separate ways, for whatever
reasons: military service, school….I guess that’s why our holidays together meant so much. Shabbat too.”

“I can imagine. My Mum…I know how hard it was when I was away at school…my brothers too. Always
wanted the best for us of course…but you miss the family get-togethers, especially if they’ve always been part of
your life.”

“Exactly….So let’s see…we still try not to labor any throughout the Sabbath, and then at the end, we perform
Havdalah…”
“Havdalah,” Jack repeated, making certain he pronounced it correctly.

“Yes…Havdalah…and the new week begins. That’s it.”

“A new week….A new beginning.” Jack kissed her forehead. “Is that how you feel?”

“A new…Sometimes, yeah…especially when it’s been a particularly hard week, and with me not getting to
properly celebrate Shabbat every week, well, that makes it even more special when I do.”

After thinking for a moment, Jack nodded and thoughtfully admitted, “I…I like this, sweetheart.”

“Do you?”

“Well…it’s one thing to read what happens off a computer monitor….It’s another to actually be part of it.”

“Aw…” and taking one hand within hers, she gave him a brief kiss on the mouth. “Thank you.”

Briefly she nearly felt awkward in the silence which followed, a bout of shyness overcoming her that was not
unique to her – just a tiny reminder of a moderately conservative upbringing by good, loving parents and always
wanting to be a proper lady albeit an independent one. Sometimes life could be so confusing, even at her age,
and there were times when she was incredibly uncertain about the male of the species outside her own relatives,
despite having been around men her entire life. Never being involved in a serious relationship may have been
part of it, but when had she ever had the time? Life up until a few months before had been family and friends
and her deep faith, studies and a career, and an occasional very casual date, but nothing more. Nothing…
serious…not until….

And she cleared her throat, glancing around as though needing to busy herself. If there was a man who could
make her feel at ease it was Jack Corbett. If there was a man who could bring out mixed feelings of passion and
tender nervousness, again, it was him. How in the world someone could cause such emotions in another person
she had no idea, but it had been this way for weeks and now…now – despite an evening of being held in those
strong arms and knowing she desired to be no where else this Sabbath – she felt slightly anxious again. It might
be foolish – it was foolish – but there it was, and she only hoped Jack did not notice or take offense. She would
not do that to him for anything.

“Uh…you need more coffee?” she decided to ask. “I…I think there’s probably enough in the pot for a couple of
more cups.”

Jack, too, seemed confused and was grateful when she spoke. He had seen the glimmer of timidity, hoped he had
not frightened her in some way. No…he was definite he had not. There were just times when they both – despite
their feelings – seemed so…inexperienced at these things. “Coffee….Yes…um…I’d love some more, if you
have it.”

“There should still be enough,” and she stood, smoothing the imagined wrinkles in her skirt and then picking up
the two cups on the coffee table. “Oh…would you like another slice of cake too?” she asked, looking back over
her shoulder.

“I…” he hesitated, giving his stomach a rub. It was not that he was stuffed, but he did not want to appear greedy;
despite how wonderful the dessert had been, and he was partially chiding himself for having eaten two slices
previously, but that was how it was when it came to Adalia’s cooking.

“I’ll tell you what…” she said, turning briefly so as to better see him – and detect his hesitancy, “…how about I
cut a piece and we split it? Would that work? I could eat some more myself. Not a whole slice though, but if you
don’t mind sharing with…”

“That would work.”

“Great….So…one slice of cake and two cups of coffee coming up….Black right?”

“Right” and he drew one leg towards his chest and relaxed against the front of the sofa, clasping his arms around
his bent knee while he concentrated on the crackling firewood, the popping sound nearly rhythmic, while in the
background, he could hear the faint humming of a song as Adalia went about her business. Jack sighed and
closed his eyes, allowing it all again to pleasantly overwhelm him: the homelike sounds, the pleasing
fragrances…pushing away the loneliness of sixteen years of life at the Point…shoving aside the images of death,
the stench of the mass graves, the moments which returned during these types of quiet times….He was back at a
time before the War…only she was there….

“Here we go.”

Jack opened his eyes on hearing her voice, watching her approach as she skillfully managed the dishes. He
immediately sprang to his feet.

“Let me,” he said, taking his cup and the plate.

“Thanks.”

“I should have asked if you needed any help. That was bloody rude of me.”

“It’s okay, but thank you. Remember…I had to learn how to wait tables too. Juggling two cups and a plate was
nothing,” she laughed as she took her place back on the hardwood, once more tucking her small bare feet
underneath her. “Besides…you are my guest. My mother would call me incredibly rude if I had a guest helping
me to serve.” Exhaling, she smiled. “There! We’re all set again,” and she clasped both hands around the china
cup, giving the creamy liquid several blows before she took a sip.

Jack could not help but watch the way she pursed her lips when she did so, chiding himself for being so attentive
to something that was incredibly trivial or would be to most. It was only in these last months did he comprehend
what was likely special to those brothers of his that had found love….

“Go ahead…dig in,” she insisted, nodding towards the plate with the luscious piece of cake and the two forks.

“Right…” and taking a utensil in hand, he carefully cut the slice into equal halves. Again he took a deep whiff…
and sighed. “That chocolate…”

“It smells as good as any rose, doesn’t it?”

“That it does….Here…dig in yourself, sweetheart before I eat it all,” he teased.

Adalia giggled, snatching up the remaining fork, but she paused and gazed intently at him. “Have I told you…?”

Corbett swallowed the cake he was chewing. “Have you told me…?” He was uncertain what she wanted to say.

“Have I told you…Have I told you how nice that sounds?”

“What?”

“’Sweetheart’….I like that,” she admitted, a blush beginning to burn at her cheeks.
“Do you? I know…well…a lot of women nowadays…I’m always worried they’ll take exception…”

“Why would they?” she challenged, serious and not upset with him, but with what he suggested.

“Well…it might seem…I don’t know…condescending or…” but he caught himself smiling on seeing that Adalia
was shaking her head.

“I can’t see how any woman would not appreciate being called ‘sweetheart’ by someone who cares about her.”
She used her fork to break off a bit of her half of the cake. “Don’t stop,” she timidly added, her eyes not meeting
his.

In the lighting, Jack could see how rosy her complexion had grown and although he wanted to tell her more, to
say that whenever he heard John Biebe call Tina ‘darlin’’ or ‘sweetheart,’ he used to wonder if he would ever feel
as deeply for someone too. But he would save that for another time, not now, not when Adalia had paid him a
very high compliment. He simply sighed and bowed his head as a promise, taking a drink of his own coffee.

“And thank you again.”

“For…?” Corbett asked.

“Coming…tonight. I can’t believe you gave up your monthly poker game to…”

“I can play poker anytime….This was my first Shabbat with you….I wouldn’t have missed this for all the poker
games in Creation.”

“Even with that kitty, huh?” she teased.

“Yes,” he told her without missing a beat, “even with that kitty. I know that eleven hundred dollars is nothing to
sneeze at, but…” His smile grew. “…let’s just say that I much prefer your company to that of my brothers, even
with that amount of money on the line….You have a little…right…” and taking the tip of his thumb, he carefully
removed a crumb that had lingered at the corner of Adalia’s mouth, a nice excuse to once more feel how
incredibly soft they were.

“Thanks,” she blushed, wondering how she could be sloppy, but thinking that having Jack be this caring made it
worth feeling silly.

“Anyway…I was saying that it is a lot of money on the line, but sometimes…sometimes you have to prioritize.”

Adalia smiled, recalling that when the doorbell rang a half-hour before sunset, she anxiously wondered who it
was, despite knowing that Jack fully intended to make an appearance ‘come hell or high water’ he assured her,
using the old cliché. In the back of her mind, she was afraid his plans would not work, that some unforeseen
glitch would occur and he might have to postpone their dinner at the last moment, although she was certain that
if that happened, he would call her mobile and let her know. But despite reassuring herself all day, she honestly
wondered if their evening would come to fruition, even after all their preparations, so when she rushed to the
front door she was ridiculously expecting to be disappointed.

But there was Jack Corbett, looking very youthful and handsome in a polo shirt and khaki slacks, a brilliant grin
appearing on his face when he saw her standing in the threshold, heard her whisper ‘You made it’ and then felt
one hand eagerly grasp one of his own so he might be tugged into the cottage. He apologized for arriving so
close to sundown, realizing that the Shabbat candles were required to be lit at least fifteen minutes before, but
Adalia had reassured him, told him it was just fine and that he had arrived in time. She guided him through the
foyer and into the living room and finally the adjacent dining room, asked him to relax at the table and politely
inquired as to how he was. It was the usual icebreaking chit-chat intended to put one at ease, even when those
involved were well acquainted, but for both of them, the initial tentativeness of their early days returned.

She wanted to hear how he managed his ‘escape’ and he laughingly explained how it was accomplished. With
the greatest subtlety, only minutes after arriving in the main Tavern area for the tournament, he pretended at
putting up a brave front, finally admitting he had been feeling ‘crook’ all day, a term that caused his English,
American and Roman brothers to look puzzled…and for the Aussies ones to tell him that they hoped he wasn’t
contagious! He laughed and said he was pretty sure he was not and that the game should begin. But after a
couple of hours of playing, of winning a hand or two and losing twice that, of occasionally excusing himself and
pretending to shake off a headache, and imbibing of ginger ale instead of a beer, he admitted that he was not at
the top of his game. Terry Thorne was the first to tell him that he ought to call it a night, but Jack insisted; even
played one final hand…and that was the end. Well wishes ringing in his ears, Jack had dragged himself
upstairs…and was rushing down the rear stairwell moments later.

To be with his Adalia again – to share their first Sabbath together, so that as the evening progressed, they again
grew more and more at ease until it was perfectly natural for them to be sharing a slice of chocolate mousse cake
while sitting before the fireplace.

“Besides…” Jack continued after swallowing the last of his own half of the cake, “what the devil would I do
with $1100 here at the Point? Money’s never really been a need to me.”

“But what would you have liked to have done with it? If you had won it, I mean? Mmm…would you like some
more?”

“No…No thanks, sweetheart. I couldn’t eat another bite – honest….What would I do if I had won…? Don’t
know really, not if you’re asking how I might have spent it. I can see Sid or Kim having rather expensive ideas…
or one of the others possibly buying something for…well…like John giving something to Tina, or Jack
presenting something to Beej that he knows she would like, or…well…you get what I mean. But me?” He
shrugged. “Can’t think of anything off the top of my head, and especially if I had an opportunity to go out there.
I’ve only been Outside a few times since I arrived.”

Adalia looked honestly surprised at this pronouncement. “In all this time?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ve been as far as the town…at Thanksgiving or Christmas when we deliver the food and gift
baskets for the needy. That’s about it.”

“But…you’ve never wanted to…”

“Never had any reason to, Addie. When most of my brothers go into the Real World, it’s because their lady
friend escorts them.” He noticed that Adalia suddenly seemed embarrassed that her simple question had led to
something much deeper. “Now don’t feel too bad. I…” He sighed. “I don’t know. Never really knew what the
Outside had to offer, except an opportunity to see how much the world has changed from the one I knew…but I
can learn that from watching the telly or getting online. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I left anyway…”

“So…you just…stay?”

“It’s not bad. It’s endless you know….I could live here my whole life and not see the half of it.”

“But…” Adalia stammered, putting the plate on the coffee table, “it still must seem…well…not claustrophobic,
but…I’m not even sure how to explain it….Uh…I…I suppose it’s the idea of knowing that as limitless as this all
seems, there’s something…beyond this.”
“I know,” he agreed, smiling thoughtfully. “It’s just never had much interest to me, not if I leave for a few weeks
and then have to come back again to recover.” Especially since I never had any good reason to leave, and put
that sort of pressure on a Keeper too. For what? “I never thought it was worth it…”

“Especially if you weren’t sharing it with someone?”

Jack nodded, giving Adalia a few seconds to think.

“Well, you know what this means, don’t you?”

“Not really,” Corbett answered with a slight chuckle.

“It just means that when I do get to return to Indiana for a visit, you will be coming with me.”

The answer seemed so obvious, and yet Jack was nearly startled on hearing her say it, probably because no one
had ever asked him before, at least, not when it meant a long period of time. “I will? I mean…you…you want
me to…”

“I’d love for you to come back to Indiana with me.”

“Indiana.” He said the state’s name as though it was the key to life itself, his very own ‘Open sesame.’ “But
what…”

“We could go up to Starlight. It’s not that far from the Knobs. Actually, it’s pretty much in the Knobs, truth be
told. And I’ve told you about Starlight…all the farms, and there are wineries all up and down Southern Indiana;
we could take a winery tour if you liked, and…oh…if we go at strawberry time we could hit the Strawberry
Festival and go out and pick fresh berries if we wanted to. Or if we went in the fall, like now, we could ride out
to the orchards and pick a bushel of apples….And they have moonlight hayrides and…Oh! We could pick
pumpkins at Halloween to make Jack-O-Lanterns! Or…” and her eyes twinkled mischievously, “we could wait
until December and I could help you pick your very own Christmas tree.”

Jack laughed. “You pick it, they cut it?”

“No, you pick it; you cut it…or something like that. And before you say, ‘What does a nice Jewish girl like you
know about Christmas trees…’”

“What does a nice Jewish girl like you know about Christmas trees…?”

Adalia rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I happen to like Christmas trees very much, and in fact, I’ve
even helped to decorate a few in my time. But you’re getting off the point,” and she gently tickled his belly,
grinning when he let loose with a deep giggle so similar to his siblings. “Anyway, what do you think?” she
eagerly asked, sitting on her knees. “Of ...Of my idea?”

“Starlight.” Again he said a word that seemed to open new universes to him and he smiled despite himself,
realizing that he had smiled more in the last few months than he had in all his years at the Point. “Sounds like
you could reach right out and grab a handful, doesn’t it?”

“When you’re up in the Knobs, it’s like you’re nearly touching Heaven itself….I’ve seen a lot of that here at the
Point. Sometimes…it really feels like home when I go to certain little areas and I’m up so high that….Well,
you’ll see,” and she gathered both his hands in her smaller ones. “Nothing would make me happier than to take
you there for a visit, and…and I know…I know it’s not Australia, but…”
“I’d still be happy there,” particularly in knowing that Adalia would be his companion and his guide No, there
had been no desire to leave the Point…until now.

He was prepared to leave that very second if she had given the word, and he felt his stomach doing playful flips
on thinking of them motoring around the two lane roads that would carry them higher and higher, until they were
nearly five hundred feet above the Ohio River flood plane. Depending on the time of year, there would be acres
of meadows and apple trees, farms that had been in the same families for generations, the heady scent of vines
heavy with ripening grapes. He imagined them enjoying a glass of Hoosier wine while they ate a picnic lunch
and watched the ducks and geese as they went about their own business, skimming the water, waddling across
the gravel paths that were part of the properties. It might be fun picking apples or choosing the perfect pumpkin,
and he wondered about sharing a caramel apple with her or them finishing their day by dining on an authentic
country dinner of fried chicken and Kentucky country ham…although he knew that none of it would be as good
as what she had served him in the past. And then an early evening drive home, just before sunset, making their
way down the same thoroughfares and occasionally catching a glimpse of the tops of the Louisville skyline far
off in the distance....

In fact, he was telling her of these very thoughts when he suddenly stopped, the expression of contentment that
had made Adalia glow with pleasure going quizzical. She realized what had just struck him.

“I’d…uh…I…if we’re in the Knobs…near your Floyds Knobs…then…you’d take me to meet your family?”

Adalia smiled softly. “Well…if it didn’t make you uncomfortable. I’d very much like you to meet them.”

“You would?” There had been few times in his life when he knew the painful ‘joys’ of being taken home to meet
a sheila’s parents. Growing up, the families of the girls he knew as a boy and a teenager were friends of the
Corbetts. At university, the young women he occasioned to date were normally living away from home, so there
had been no ‘opportunity’ to spend time in their family homes. During the War…when the hell was life normal
enough for such proprieties? Afterwards, there was Ambon and assisting in the organization of Captain Cooper’s
prosecution….Now Adalia was suggesting a tradition that – for time immemorial – had sent men into the type of
panic that sent them running for the proverbial hills, no matter if they were simply being introduced…or about to
ask the father for his daughter’s hand!

“Of course I would! I’m not sure how many of them would be stateside, but you would be very welcomed by
everyone.”

“I know you said that you’d told your brother…”

“Josh.”

“Right…Josh. But uh…do…did you tell…?”

“Josh has told a few of them, yeah.” She brushed a hand over her hair. “Sounds like…it…it took a bit of
explaining.”

“I can imagine,” Corbett laughed, however there was something of more concern. “But…uh…what about…what
about your parents? Have you told them anything?”

“Well…they know…a lot….They didn’t at first; figured I was working at some resort and they were just thrilled
about me getting the position, but over the past months, I’ve told them a little here and there, and Josh has
helped explain….But…I can still hear the skepticism…no…the uh…not skepticism but confusion, and it’s not
because they’re stupid or anything like that. It’s just that you’ve watched all these science-fiction and fantasy
movies and TV shows for years and years, and then your daughter comes and tells you that she’s about to
become part of…well…something you could never have imagined…and the reality hits you in the face. It’s hard
accepting it. I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“So yes, they’ll have some idea of how we met and…Jack…you’ll love my Mom and Dad.”

“’Mom and Dad’….That …. is such a…” He gulped, then hoped she had not heard it. “…meeting your
parents…that is such a major step. I…I don’t even know…”

“I know they’ll love you as much as I do, and I’m not…well, I’m not saying that in order to simply make you
feel good. I seriously know they will. And you told me you like fishing, right?”

“Always have.”

“There! Dad can take you fishing in our lake.”

“If he doesn’t decide to throw me in it first,” Jack quipped, then clearing his throat, he attempted his best
American accent and in a deep gruff voice demanded, “Lieutenant Corbett…what exactly are your intentions
when it comes to my little girl? And what was the name of that Russell Crowe movie of yours again and why
haven’t I heard of it before now? I know Gladiator; I know LA Confidential; I know The Insider and Cinderella
Man, and if my daughter was going to choose someone, it should have been Maximus or Captain Aubrey or
Terry Thorne. Now those are men I know!”

Adalia pretended to scowl. “My father does not sound like that,” she playfully retorted. “And what kind of
accent were you doing there?”

“Regular American…I think.”

“Regular…Is that anything like ‘regular Australian’?” Jack gave a ‘point taken’ look and laughed. “Anyway…I
think that you and the Admiral will find a lot in common,” she guaranteed, once more settling at Jack’s right
side.

“Besides caring for you? I really don’t know. I mean…the Admiral – lovely. That makes me feel better, do you
realize that, sweetheart?” he nervously joked. The very thought of him fishing beside a retired Rear Admiral –
whose daughter he was dating – was as nerve-wracking as facing an onslaught of kamikazes, but at least one
could anticipate a possible fate when opposite the latter. It was easy for Adalia to think her father a ‘teddy bear,’
but how would he react to a man who essentially existed only in one world….

But he glanced down and saw a pair of hazel eyes gazing sweetly into his face, the tenderness bringing him a
calm he did not anticipate. He remembered the stories she had told him over the last months as little by little,
they shared their lives with one another: of growing up not simply as a Hoosier, but with her religious
background, a faith that meant so much to her. He believed that he now knew the Rabinovich family very well:
her brothers and sisters and their extended families; her grandparents; the ones that died as part of the Nazi
campaign and those that had fought to build the United States from her inception. And despite his initial
uncertainty, he especially knew her parents: her mother’s strength and sincerity; the Admiral’s pride and love in
his family and his country….

“What will I say to them?” was what finally emerged as he pondered that first meeting with Benjamin and
Susannah Rabinovich.

“I know it sounds clichéd, but…be the Jack Corbett I’ve come to know and love. They’ll respect you all the
more for that.”
Jack slipped an arm around her, kissing her forehead as he did. “Not only because I love their daughter, hmm?”
he whispered.

“No, not only that,” she replied, permitting her fingers to brush his jaw. “And…if we’re talking about my folks,
I…I guess this means…Well…does it mean that…?”

“That we ought to think about telling everybody here?”

She nodded. “I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” he quickly answered. “I’m…I’m tired of us hiding it. I’m tired of us…I know we didn’t intend
to hide things at first, but…it would be nice if everyone knew what we mean to each other. That we didn’t have
to…” He sighed, frustrated. “Well…you know what I mean.”
“Yeah…”

“I know they think your life is so busy that you barely have time for anything outside the kitchen…and of course
they never expected me to…” Jack paused, realizing he was saying the things they had already spoken of during
the past weeks. “It’s odd how Tina’s the Keeper and it obviously hasn’t hit her either. She says that sometimes it
doesn’t.”

“Then that will make it all the more special when we tell them all, won’t it?”

“That it will….So…when do you…”

“Thanksgiving,” Adalia said with the greatest confidence.

“Thanks… Less than two weeks,” Corbett thoughtfully considered.

“Too soon? We could wait until…”

“No, no…Thanksgiving…Thanksgiving will be perfect….When we’re all sitting down at the table and we talk
about what we have to be thankful for…”

“And I come in with the staff so we can finish putting all the dishes out to start…”

“And they won’t think I have anything to say, as usual…”

“But you’ll stand up…”

“I’ll stand up…” Jack continued, “and I’ll say that I’m thankful that God finally sent someone into my life…
someone that I love…”

“And I’ll walk over to your side…”

“And we’ll see how long it takes for someone to finally open their mouths once the shock wears off,” he said,
causing both of them to laugh, but they grew quiet once more when Jack leaned nearer, his lips tracing a delicate
line over the hollow at the base of her neck, then along the gold chain from which dangled a small Star of David,
the medal now resting between Adalia’s breasts. Jack gently kissed it, a near reverence in his action and then he
spoke, his voice soft and serious. “I do love you, Addie.”

“Jack…” One hand smoothed back the hair from his brow, watching as the fire glow highlighted the auburn
coloring. She shook her head, her lower lip trembling, and then glanced aside, not wanting him to see the tears
threatening to spill onto her lashes. It was only when his fingers touched her chin and turned her face upwards
towards his did she allow him to see how much his words had meant. She knew that although she could only
mouth the words I love you too he would know exactly what she said.

“I know one thing you didn’t do for me tonight,” he finally said after several moments of silence.

“What was…?” She swallowed, allowing the lump to dissolve in her throat. “What was that?”

“They always sing on Shabbat, don’t they? You didn’t sing for me.”

“No…”

“Would you?” he asked, his fingers entwining with hers.

Adalia sniffed, wiped her eyes and swallowed again. “Anything?”

“Anything. You know the music better than I.”

There was another pause and then once more resting in the safety of Jack’s arms, the room suddenly filled with
Adalia’s clear, strong voice:

Lev tahor bera li Elokim

V’ruach nachon chadeish bi’kir’bi

Lev tahor bera li Elokim

V’ruach nachon chadeish bi’kir’bi

Al tashli’chayni mi’lifanecha
V’ruach kod’shecha al tikach mi’meni.
Al tashli’chayni mi’lifanecha
V’ruach kod’shecha al tikach mi’meni.

al tikach mi’meni
al tikach mi’meni

Part Six

My thanks to Beej for the story suggestions and to Jax for her Poker 101 information.

“Come to Papa, you beautiful…” and chewing excitedly on his cigar, Steve dragged a large heap of poker chips
in his direction while the remaining three individuals at the table groaned, tossed their cards in the air…or did
not even bother to mutter under their breath, determined that the New Yorker would hear the comments loud and
clear.

“I knew I should have prayed harder,” East commented, burying his face into his hands. He was beginning to
wonder if it was time to find another card game to engage in, as poker no longer seemed to be his forte.

“I knew I didn’t want to be at a table with him,” Zack grunted, taking one final look at the cards he held, as if
hoping they had changed, and then disgustedly throwing them onto tabletop. “Happens every…single…fucking
time we play together!”
“I’m not sure if prayer would have helped anyway,” Andy sighed, staring at the meager chips left in his pile. At
this rate, he was not going to be in the quarterfinals, let alone the semi- or actual finals and he hated the thought.
He had such plans for that money, and while it was true that no one ever wanted at the Point, it was simply the
idea of winning that always proved so exciting.

The words had barely left his mouth when they all heard a ‘whoop,’ causing them to turn just in time to see a
red-faced Anthony look embarrassed that he had let loose with that kind of celebration. Smiling sheepishly, the
doctor quickly recovered and eagerly pulled the stacks of chips onto his own growing mound, while those at his
table tried to figure where they had gone wrong. Jim Braddock was shaking his head; Alex’s cards took flight…
and Sid had stomped away while shouting something about a man with a Rosary having an unfair advantage.

“What did I tell ya? The ex-priest! I’ll say it again: I should have prayed harder,” East repeated. “If Cort wins
another hand then I’ll know it.”

“Know what?” Zack muttered.

“Know that they have some secret pipeline set up to get insider’s information.”

“You guys are breaking my fucking heart,” Steve joked, taking a swig of his beer. “But like I said when we sat
down…it’s a man’s game. If you can’t stand the heat…”

“Get out of the fucking kitchen,” his tablemates finished, rolling their eyes.

“I don’t know about all of you, but I need some air,” Andy announced, sliding back his chair.

“Same here,” East agreed.

Steve just kept going “Hah…Hah…Hah” as his fingers flicked through the chips, and it took all of Zack’s
strength not to punch out his fellow American brother. It wouldn’t help his current losing streak, but damn, it
would feel so good!

Stretching then rubbing his chest, Andy sighed and glanced around, ready for something more to eat and – as he
walked to the buffet setup – took a moment to read the leader board, curious as to who was ahead after five
hours, and wondering what might be going through their minds as others also stood to take a break, and some
remained at their tables, completing their most current hands.

The young man grinned on seeing a few scores. Several names were hardly surprising, while a few were jaw-
dropping and unexpected, and perhaps he was not doing as poorly as he had originally thought.

Might be hope for me yet he joked to himself, glancing at Table 4 and thinking what a dichotomy was sitting
there. Cort was an enigma; the features said nothing except that he was present, but expressed little else. Nash
was behaving better than he had been in years past, when even the simplest games of poker would have him
calculating every probability until he seemed about to go over the edge. Andy imagined that even now that
brilliant mind was formulating all possibilities, but at least he kept it quiet…and the boy was trying to sort
whether the rubbing of his nose meant that a hand was good or bad. Have to keep working on that...just in case
we end up in the finals….Johnny was Johnny, as usual wearing that scarf of Meg’s tied like a kerchief around his
neck; it was his good luck charm – although whether it worked or not he might argue, but whatever worked for
him was fine with Andy. Too bad their table was missing a player…

“How you doing, Andy?” Braddock asked as he sauntered to the younger man’s side, rubbing the back of his
own neck as he did.
“How are you doing?” He saw that his older brother was moving a bit stiffly and wondered if the arthritis was
kicking in after all that sitting. Although the boxer had been cured of his maladies upon arriving at the Point,
there were times when they seemed to give him some trouble, particularly if he sat in one place for too long.

“Hanging in there,” Jim chuckled, looking back to where Colin was leaning back on two chair legs, waiting for
the next hand to begin; Sid appeared completely disgusted and was demanding that he be allowed to deal next…
and Anthony seemed all too pleased with his evening. “Mae always said that you ought to keep an eye on
priests.”

“He’s an ex one you know.”

“But still…” Jim winked. “It’s a well known fact that the Church invented Bingo. Didn’t you know that?”

Andy laughed and shook his head. “Hadn’t heard that, no, but I wasn’t raised Catholic.”

Braddock’s eyes twinkled in that manner common to all the brothers. “Oh you don’t have to be, Andy. I thought
everybody knew that. When it comes to Bingo, it don’t matter what your religious affiliation is….Anyway...the
way Anthony’s luck is running…well…he said that Stephanie will be thrilled. He mentioned something about
a…” He looked puzzled. “What’s a Dooney and a Bourke, Andy?”

“A Dooney and…a Bourke? Oh Dooney and Bourke! That’s a purse.”

“Oh. Is it? Dooney and Bourke. Okay….Guess that makes sense. Then I suppose…well…is Kate Spade a person
or a brand or…”

“Oh Kate Spade is Kate Spade….She’s some designer a lot of the ladies like. She does clothes, handbags, you
know…girly things.”

“I still have a lot to learn, don’t I?” Braddock sighed, and Andy wondered if he was thinking that his wife would
definitely forgo a modern day purse that during their time period would have fed their family and paid the rent
and utilities for several months.

Andy shrugged. “Well, some things are more important than others. There are your top priorities…and there’s
Dooney and Bourke and Kate Spade when it comes to Stephanie….You fancy another beer? I was just getting
myself one.”

“Sounds good, thanks,” and while the younger man went into the cooler, Braddock had a moment to study the
current scores before he glanced over the remaining tables at play, completing their hands before an ‘official’
break went into effect. “So you got much left?”

The Aussie grunted as he wiped the threads of ice from the bottles. “Not as much as I’d like,” he joked, looking
for the opener. “Planning for a comeback though, mate….You doing okay with Sid at your table?”

One corner of Jim’s mouth eased into a sly smile. “Sid does his best to sidetrack everyone. He’ll go so far out in
left field, you’re sitting there thinking ‘Where did that come from?’” Andy laughed. After all these years with
the Americans, he was used to the baseball reference. “Or he launches into these little tirades. Or the insults. He
loves the insults.”

“Then after a while he sees that nobody’s paying attention and he finally stops?”

“Pretty much yeah. Thanks,” Braddock said, accepting the beer.

“Oh he’s been playing that game for years.” He was uncertain if Jim was aware of that or not, considering that
the New Jerseyan had not participated in the monthly games until a few sessions ago. Although he had lived at
the Point for over a year now, the man had usually found some excuse not to join in, and Andy knew that while
his brother was never unfriendly – in fact, one could not ask for a more amiable fellow – he was still undergoing
his own form of mourning for his old life. No, not simply his old life, but his family and his friends, especially
his wife and children. Jim Braddock helped around the Point; he joined in for the holidays and was even seen in
the Tavern many evenings, enjoying a beer with his newfound family, but Andy would have been stupid not to
have seen that loss buried deep in those very similar eyes. It had taken the heavyweight champion a while to
acclimate and yet….

“I figured as much,” but they were interrupted by an exuberant Lachlan over at Table 3, who obviously had won
the last hand after what appeared to have been a one on one between him and Wigand. Maximus simply looked
pleased that he still had a nice pile of chips in front of him, and Egan looked satisfied as well. In fact, Table 3
seemed to be one of the few where all of the players might make it through to the semifinals, a fact that didn’t
make Andy entirely happy.

Maybe it’s not my month the boy thought, still determined he was not going to be left high and dry.

Table 7 was finally beginning to relax as Alex won the last round, and while he carefully organized his chips,
Dominic muttered something about giving up poker forever (Of course he will Andy chuckled inwardly); Rick
quietly strolled over to Table 5 to see what was happening with Jeff Mitchell, and John Biebe stood, stretched
and announced that it hadn’t been a bad last couple of hours. (Wonder what he’s planning on getting Tina with
that. You know that’s what he’s thinking about, lucky sod).

Only Table 5 was still in play, and into the semi-quiet of the room, a strong English accent declared, “You give
him one bloody clue and I’ll cut your heart out with a spoon! I’ll see your twenty and raise you…twenty more.”

Rick only laughed.

“We’re lucky they weren’t at the same table together,” Terry mumbled, putting his cigar in the ashtray as he
concentrated on his cards. “They’d be too busy playing fucking footsy to think….Shit….All right…I’ll take two
more,” and Bud – who was dealing – did just that.

“Pass,” was what Mitchell said, which caused the other three men at his table to glare, all of them attempting to
sort out whether this was a bluff or not. They then looked up at Rick, who threw up his hands as if to say I’m not
doing anything, but it was enough to cause him to back up slightly so that no accusations could be made.

“Pity about young Jack.” Aubrey was attempting to keep his strong voice from being too prominent. He was
behind the bar, getting a beer off the tap, which he then handed to Biebe before fixing one for himself.

“Oh thanks….Yeah, yeah it is. He was looking under the weather when he was helping us set up things.”

“Was he? I wonder what ails him.”

“I even mentioned it to Tina after I got home. He said it was nothing but…I wish he’d had Anthony take a look
at him. I don’t want to think about him coming down with something and he’s trying to put on a brave front.
He’s never been a complainer.”

“Well since we are about to take a lengthy respite, I could stroll upstairs and see how he manages. Perhaps he
feels more himself and can rejoin us. What do you think?”

John pushed his hair back behind his ears then glanced to the staircase. Jack Corbett always enjoyed the monthly
poker tournaments and it was good for his brothers to see him amongst them. The lieutenant was never
unfriendly and enjoyed these times with his siblings and friends, but being alone seemed the way he regrettably
spent most of his life, well, regrettable in the Alaskan’s mind at any rate. I’ll be turning into Tina if I keep this
up: matchmaking, that’s what I’m thinking. But hey…he did admit he was seeing someone. At least I think he
did….

“Shall I check on him, John?” Aubrey once again asked.

“Well…” John started as he took a drink, “he’s been up there…how long?”

******************************************************************************

Gazing through the pristine glass of one of the living room windows, Adalia smiled softly, sighing, briefly
wondering why she was suddenly reminded of herself as a small child and those innocent attempts to count the
stars, eventually falling asleep in the arms of one of her parents or an older sibling. She would then dream of
lovely things, of imaginary worlds, and perhaps what her subconscious visualized she might resemble upon
becoming an adult. Only occasionally did she suffer some bad dream – after all, who did not – but for the most
part, from what she recalled, sleep during childhood was that of contentment.

But never, in all her childish fantasies, did she imagine the Crowe’s Point.

Never, in all her dreams since arriving in this place, did she imagine being in love as she was now.

Starlight, star bright… came the words of the old wishing verse, but she could not desire any other wish when
everything she had ever wanted from life was happening to her now.

She also recalled something else from her earliest years, when she was being taught to pray and say the blessings
of that ancient religion, that there was always the evening and morning prayer – one and the same – that would
bring her comfort and relaxation, to bond her with her faith and with her God.

Lifting her right hand and then placing it over her eyes, she began to sing aloud:

Sh'ma Yis-ra-eil, A-do-nai E-lo-hei-nu, A-do-nai E-chad

(Hear, O Israel: the Lord our G-d, the Lord is One)

Her voice dropped to a whisper so that the next declaration was barely audible and – had anyone watched her
closely – seemed only a mouthing of the words and nothing more.

Ba-ruch sheim k'vod mal-chu-to l'o-lam va-ed

(Blessed is the Name of His glorious kingdom for all eternity)

Then once more her voice, despite its’ softness grew bolder, the familiar words easily slipping off her tongue,
said not as some boring recitation but with all the passion they deserved:

V'a-hav-ta eit A-do-nai E-lo-he-cha, B'chawl l'va-v'cha, u-v'chawl naf-sh'cha, u-v'chawl m'o-de-cha. V'ha-yu ha-
d'va-rim ha-ei-leh, A-sher a-no-chi m'tsa-v'cha ha-yom, al l'va-ve-cha. V'shi-nan-tam l'-va-ne-cha, v'di-bar-ta
bam, b'shiv-t'cha b'vei-te-cha, uv-lech-t'cha va-de-rech,u-v'shawch-b'cha uv-ku-me-cha. Uk-shar-tam l'ot al ya-
de-cha, v'ha-yu l'to-ta-fot bein ei-ne-cha. Uch-tav-tam, al m'zu-zot bei-te-cha, u-vish-a-re-cha

(You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might. And these
words which I command you this day shall be on your heart. You shall teach them to your children, and you
shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the way, when you lie down and when you
rise up. You shall bind them as a sign upon your arm, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes. And
you shall write them upon the doorposts of your house and upon your gates)
But one final thing before she brought it to a conclusion, although that should have been the end. Once again she
covered her hazel eyes, then swallowing hard whispered, “And thank you Lord for bringing me knowledge of
the Point for it is to You that I owe my skills, my talents and this position. And thank you…thank you for
bringing Jack into my life as having him love me and me loving him in return is something I did not expect
when I arrived. Keep him safe from harm and bless everything that makes him such a good man, not only for me
but in Your sight. Thank you Lord for such an unexpected blessing….Amen.”

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Casey move from his place at the window seat and vanish into the
increasing darkness of the room. In the background, Adalia could hear the soft padding of the cat’s paws across
the hardwood, then footsteps…firm human footsteps moving one way and another, then one by one, the candles
were extinguished, the slightest scent of smoke wafting her way. It was not long before a pair of hands slipped
about her waist, the palms tenderly pressing against her abdomen, and she smiled on feeling the tickling of his
breath upon her right ear when he spoke.

“The candles are all out.”

“Thanks – I appreciate that.”

“I’ll double-check the fireplace too; make sure the fire’s out before I leave.” Jack felt her body stiffen under his
touch, but he held her somewhat tighter, realizing that like him, she did not want their evening to end, her
hesitation at commenting meaning that once the word was said, the reality would begin. “What were you
thinking about just now?” he finally asked, wanting her to be honest with him.

She sighed. “Stars….I was counting stars the way I used to when I was little.”

Jack smiled, hearing the contentment in her voice. “And?”

“And…I still can’t count them all,” she laughed, “just like before….The thing is…” and she aimed her right
index finger towards the spot in the deep velvet skies where the Southern Cross was quite visible, “after all these
months…I look at that sky…and it still doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, think how long I’ve been here. I’ve seen it for yonks and it’s…I don’t know…does miraculous sound
right?”

“It may come close, yeah….I remember one of my grandfathers repeating the words of the Torah, about the stars
being as innumerable as the sands of the seashore, but I always figured that stars were more…real…I guess
because I could see them much more clearly.”

“So that should have made it easier to count?”

Adalia shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “For a child…yeah.”

“I wish I had known you then…but if I had…well…in realistic time…I suppose I would have been a friend of
your grandparents…one of those old veterans that make kids roll their eyes before they rush off to play a video
game.”

“Hey…I used to love to listen to my relatives and their friends talk about the War, but then, I was kind of a
strange child.”

“I was thinking ‘precocious.’”

“That’s a nice word, Lieutenant.”

“It’s better than ‘strange’ or ‘odd’ or ‘weird’ or…”

“I get your point,” and she laughed again.

“Anyway…here I am rambling and you were having a lovely childhood memory and…Sorry.”

“No…don’t be,” she sighed, easing her head back against his chest, her thoughts returning to the matter at hand.

“Next you’ll be saying that you like my rambling.”

“I do….I like…” She paused, causing her companion to immediately realize that something was wrong.

“Addie?” There was no response. “Sweetheart?”

“You have to go?”

So that was it. “Well, I’d rather not, but…you’re tired. Haven’t you had a long day? You forget: I saw you over
at the Tavern. You were organizing the poker night menu and trying to make sure things were going to run right
with you not there. Then you came home and fixed us dinner.”

“I wanted to.”

“I know you did. That may have been the best roasted chicken in my whole life and that cake…” He smiled in
spite of himself. “But you…spending your Sabbath with you. I know it’ll sound ridiculous and clichéd and if
you laugh I won’t blame you, but…this may have been the best evening I’ve ever had…here and…and back…
back in my old life.”

“For real?” she asked, turning so that she was face to face with him.

“For real,” he repeated, thinking that this may have been one of the few times he could hear himself using one of
the more modern terms. “It’s been a good evening, Addie.”

“Then why should it end so early? Jack…” and she took his hands in hers, looking down at them as she caressed
the long fingers, “it’s been so nice and…it’s been so…so…I’m just…I’m just not ready…It’s just still…early,”
she finally confessed, unable to find a better way to express herself.

“I…” he nearly stammered, but then realized…no, accepted that Adalia was quite right. “I…was thinking…”

Adalia did not speak, but instead raised her head so that she could better see him. “Yeah…?”

“I was thinking how it is that this is really the first time we’ve had an evening together, isn’t it?”

“Alone? Alone, yes,” she agreed.

“And we get so little time together.”

“I know.”

“Either you’re working or we’re around people, and I know we’ve had a picnic here and there…”

“But only for an hour or two…” So that no one would become suspicious.
“This might be the only time we get an evening together until we make our announcement,” he finished, his eyes
twinkling, “and we couldn’t ask for a better time for it. No one is going to miss me until sometime Saturday
afternoon. They’ll all think I’m still sick in my apartment so I’ll be ‘safe’ until my brothers recover from
tonight.”

Adalia laughed, knowing he was likely very close to the truth, but then grew quiet. “So…?”

“So…maybe we shouldn’t bring the evening to such an early end.”

“See?” she shyly told him. “I knew I’d get you to see it my way.”

“You should have become a lawyer – you’re very convincing when you want to be,” he joked.

“Thanks…I think,” she giggled, rolling her eyes.

But Jack glanced off to one side, feeling the burn coming to his face as he considered his next words. “Addie…
I…know…we…well, we haven’t…”

“I know.”

Corbett breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she knew of what he was speaking. “And when you asked me…”

“We don’t have to,” she quickly said, then hoped she had not frightened him from them ever doing so.

Yet once again, he seemed to be reading her mind. “No…we…No…but…if I stay…I mean…since I’m
staying…I thought…No…I mean…What if…I mean…”

Adalia gently laid one hand aside his right cheek, wondering if it was her imagination that she could feel the heat
pulsating through his flesh. She knew what he was attempting to ask, was amazed that someone so mature and
cultured had transformed into a bashful boy along the lines of the younger Arthur, but the consequences of what
he was suggesting…of what they had discussed before…. “Jack…I’m…I’m not sure I’m ready…not yet
anyway, either of us…and I know that’s insane these days but…”

“Oh no, no Addie, that’s not what I meant. I meant…” and he smiled sweetly before bending closer so that his
lips were near the chef’s ear.

And the words that had been so difficult to say out loud came more firmly, the whispered thoughts proclaiming
everything his stumbling and fumbling had lacked.

Had he looked at her that moment, he would have seen an expression of happiness appear upon her features, her
chest rising and falling as her breathing doubled with anticipation at what he suggested. When he stood straight
again, he was pleased to see her smile and then nod, her eyes flashing with total amazement.

“Where in the world did you think of…?”

“But what do you think?”

Adalia thought for a few moments, obviously weighing his proposition very carefully. “But you won’t feel…?”

“Awkward?”

“Right…awkward.”
“Look I…I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think…” He stopped, considering his next words. “More
importantly, if you don’t think…”

But his answer was to feel Adalia’s lips press upon his and then ease away. “Give me ten or fifteen minutes,
okay?”

Jack nodded. “I’ll knock beforehand….” and he hesitantly let go of her hands, as though believing that once their
touch had broken, she would change her mind.

But no, she turned slightly, hands behind her back as she seemingly melted into the darkness, her smile the last
thing Corbett saw, the words “I’ll see you in a bit then” the last he heard before he listened to her steps cross the
room and then lightly dance up the staircase.

He could only bow his head as he absent-mindedly glanced at his watch….

******************************************************************************

“Well…” John started as he took a drink, “he’s been up there…how long?”

“Several hours at least. I do not mind checking in on him, John. Joanna would be quite cross with me if I did
not.”

“Yeah, Tina would be cross with me too. I’ll tell you what….Why don’t you…?”

“BINGO!” Bud shouted, meaning he had obviously beaten the Brit and the Aussies. He then proudly spread his
cards in front of him so that all could see. “Three of a kind! Read ‘em and weep gentlemen. Read ‘em and
weep.”

“Wrong fucking game!” Terry growled, throwing down his cards. No one was sure if he meant the cop calling
out ‘Bingo’ or if he was disgusted at the last few hands he had drawn.

John’s attention returned to his English brother. “I’ll tell you what…”

“John!” Dom shouted, although they were only a few feet apart. “You tried any of this chili yet? This might be
the best I’ve ever had!”

“In a minute,” the sheriff called back and his voice softened again. “Look Jack…I was thinking…What if he’s
finally getting to rest, and we go up there knocking and wake him up, and then he has trouble getting back to
sleep. I mean sleep…that’s probably what he needs anyway. And he grabbed up a couple of ginger ales for his
stomach. I don’t know. I hate bothering the boy if he’s…”

“It would not be a problem, John. I’ll knock once or twice and if there is no immediate answer, I will not
persist….What say you?”

John gave it some consideration. He remembered his younger sibling massaging his stomach after returning
from yet another visit to the restroom, apologizing for holding up things, and then finally giving up and retiring.
He had never seen Corbett look so down and out. “Yeah…just knock a couple of times, will you? See how he’s
doing. If he doesn’t answer…”

“If he does not answer I shall not force the door,” the captain grinned. “He is not one of my mids after all.”

“And if he does…”
“Should he respond, I will suggest the good doctor give him a once over, but I won’t insist.”

“Well, he’ll probably say no, but…” John shrugged and smiled. “Well…thanks Jack. I appreciate this.”

Jack gave a slight bow as he took several steps backwards. “I shall be back in two shakes of a rattler,” and with
that misstatement causing Biebe to gently smile, the captain quickly withdrew, taking the staircase in several
long strides.

I wonder if they would think as much for my welfare, Kim thought, purposefully overhearing the conversation as
he fixed a plate. I honestly think if I was on fire no one would care enough to stop and piss on me to put it out….
Wait! Where the hell have I heard that before? Oh…The Lion in Winter. Right. Thought that sounded familiar.
Lovely. I’m stealing movie lines to reflect my own life....That’s about as pathetic as someone could get…but it’s
still true…and I can stop feeling sorry for myself any time I want....

He looked down at his food: the fresh turkey breast sandwich and the potato salad that the kitchen always did
such a wonderful job with; homemade crisps and…all right, he couldn’t resist snatching up one of those mini-
cheeseburgers and a slice of three-cheese pizza. They say she drives all of them, but they respect her for it, the
way they did Annabella. Well, if this is the result of her pushing them a tad harder….It was all heavenly; all
delicious….

I should have gone over to her cottage, he reproached himself for the hundredth time that evening. I know I
know it’s her Sabbath and all, but this would have been perfect. She would have been so amiable. Well, she’s
always amiable, but on the Sabbath…perhaps she would be more understanding, more willing to listen….And I
wouldn’t be standing here with my brothers and our guests, eating a burger and wondering why I didn’t go see
her.

Kim returned to Table 2, barely pausing when Sid inquired as to his wins and losses, and taking his seat,
stretched so that his legs now rested on Arthur’s chair. All in all, it had been a good evening as far as the win-loss
column, but he was starting to think that in the long run, none of it was crucial, not if he could have forsaken it
all for a chance to be alone with Adalia.

She manages to get a day off…and here I am playing poker. My priorities just aren’t right....They are just not
right….

And with no one paying him attention, he once more lifted his final hand and glared icicles at what he had been
dealt, hurriedly turning them face down again as a tightening ran roughshod over his stomach.

Ace of spades…ace of clubs…two black eights…a nine of diamonds…. ‘Aces and eights’….The dead man’s
hand….I did not need a dead man’s hand. Why would I want the same hand Wild Bill was dealt right before that
son-of-a-bitch blew out his brains from behind? What kind of fucking omen is that? In fact, the very idea of
drawing that hand had given Kim such a sick feeling that he pretended to have something else, simply to remove
all traces of it from his mind, but now that he was alone he needed to look again, to make certain, to know that
he had not thrown away those chips for nothing.

The cards remained the same, despite the short passage of time. Losing $100 was worth it and he took a bite out
of the cheeseburger, savoring the taste of the blue cheese the way a thirsty man would water. Why do I have such
piss poor luck when it comes to Adalia? Her first weekend here I go for a visit and there are my baby brothers.
Housewarming…I try to get her alone and there are too many people around. Night she’s introduced to all of us,
Tina scurries her away before I can go ‘boo.’ Not that I would have gone ‘boo.’ I just have never have any time
alone with her, not without wondering who was going to come around the corner and ruin it all.

And here I had a chance – a perfect opportunity to excuse myself and go to see her, or…I was talking to her just
this afternoon. I couldn’t find the right words to ask if I could join her.
Even without a mirror, he knew there was a disgusted expression tugging at his features, disgust at his lack of
timing…disgust at himself in general. Face it….For the first time…I have been a total…and utter…failure…and
that has to end as of right now….Of course Adalia has no idea. When I have done anything but play Sid Lite so
as not to scare her to death. My reputation has been shredded before me…although she has come to know me
better, but it’s time I be perfectly honest with her…let her know….Otherwise…I have no one to blame but myself.

******************************************************************************

Jack Corbett stood at the bedroom door, his right palm pressed against the wood, the pit of his stomach more
knotted than he had experienced upon earning his degrees at university, and realizing that in a way, this was just
as important…if not more. Not even the drink of water downstairs had helped, his mouth feeling more parched
and cottony than before…

You would think it was the first time I’d ever slept with a woman.

Even his cognizant voice was trembling, and he chided himself, remembering that those had been the very small
number of girls in his past or the occasional lurker, the latter – of his own choice – extremely few and far
between, especially as he still felt so self-conscious, and most of the women did not help. (Let me get this
straight one began on realizing his inexperience, you’re a clone of him and exactly how many women have you
slept with?) It was one of the few times in his Point life he had grown angry, declaring he was not a clone –
which made him sound analogous to his brothers – but his own man, and he quickly left her company, later
seeing her with Sid or Kim or some other; he didn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that it was pretty much
the final nail in the coffin when it came to relationships. But this time….

This is different came the reminder, and with a newfound resolution, he quickly knocked…and waited.

Waited for the familiar voice to say ‘Come in,’ the words nearly as nervous as his own thoughts.

He pushed opened the door, and immediately noticed that she was sitting on one edge of the king-size bed, one
pajama clothed leg pulled underneath her, and the matching skirt and top replaced by what he guessed was a
nightshirt in an Oriental design with a Mandarin collar. He confessed that he knew very little about women’s
fashions; he only knew what he liked, and from where he stood unmoving in the threshold he thought that seeing
her at her most natural and so casual was as beautiful as when she was at work in the kitchen or even a little
while before downstairs. It was difficult to tell the gown’s color in the lamplight and from the few candles
burning about the room, but it appeared to have taken on the shade of her hair, and almost immediately he knew
that yet one more thing about her was true: even devoid of the cosmetics that enhanced her loveliness, her
looks…those incredible looks….How in the world had he become so lucky?

“Hi,” Adalia greeted, briefly forgetting where she wanted to rest her arms and finally permitting one to cross
over her chest.

Jack suddenly realized that he was standing in the same spot, his attention caught by the sight of her free leg
swinging over the floor…and the toes painted a pretty shade of rose, an interesting contrast with the simply
manicured hands, hands she took great care of due to her work in the kitchen. It wasn’t the idea of her loving to
pamper herself when she had the time – he had gathered that from being around her all these many weeks. No, it
was knowing that beneath her lovely old-fashioned nature there was a side to Adalia that was…well…sensual
and simply added to what he loved about her.

Shaking himself from his unexpected reverie, Jack cleared his throat, swallowed, and took a step inside and
smiling said, “Hello.”

Adalia motioned with one hand. “You can come in.”

“Right….Oh! Right. I don’t know what I was…” But instead of finishing the sentence, he finally closed the
door, drawing nearer to where she sat. “Did I…Did I give you enough time?”

“Oh yes, yes you did, thank you.” She looked down at what she wore, wondering if the pajamas’ silk fabric was
too sheer. No, no, everything was fine. It was pretty and casual, and she thought it might be something Jack
would like to see her wear. “And um…let me apologize…up front….Should have done that downstairs.”

Corbett raised an eyebrow. “Apologize?”

“My room…it’s a mess. I’m afraid it’s part-bedroom and part-office and I have an office…den…and I have an
office at work, but…it’s just how I am. Sorry. I would have cleaned up if I’d…”

Only now did Jack observe the stacks of notebooks and seemingly dozens of books on the tops of chests, on her
desk, even on the floor on her side of the bed. A glimpse at the bindings told him what he already knew in his
short acquaintance with her: she lived and breathed her passion for cooking and wine…and likely slept it too!

“No…it’s fine; not to worry,” Jack reassured her, smiling gently, then chuckling. Nothing about any of this was a
‘mess.’ In fact it was quiet neat, despite the ‘lived-in’ quality. “I’m afraid that if you saw my room, you’d think
the same. Bloody library, that’s what it is. I’m constantly reading.”

“So you’ve told me….” A quick glance at the ivory colored comforter and before she knew it, the satiny fabric
was being timidly knitted within her fingers.

Jack in the meanwhile, was finding his own way of settling his nerves: he was slowly moving about, nearly
tipping across the rosewood flooring while studying the bedroom more carefully, thinking how much it reflected
the taste of the young woman he had come to know. The furnishings could have been antiques from their looks,
but were definitely of modern construction, yet capturing the solidness of a bygone age, every inch of each piece
emphasizing the romance of the Victorian era. The sinuous graceful shapes, the delicate accents were all hand-
carved out of the hardwood so that the cherry veneers gleamed with a satiny finish. The night stands; the
wardrobe; the dressing chest covered with numerous bottles of perfumes and lotions, cosmetics and talcum, all
the items very feminine; the semainier; a busy desk with its’ folders and books and laptop, a finely crafted pen at
rest on top of yet another lined notepad. Family photographs were everywhere, as they were in the living
room….

But there were real antiques too, he thought, pausing in front of the hope chest which was draped in a beautiful
lace coverlet. Did they still call them hope chests, he wondered? His two sisters each had their own, kept in
anticipation of their wedding day, filled with embroidery and needlework of their personal making or
generational, little pieces of china or silverware, linen for the marriage bed. He could only imagine what Adalia
might have in hers, considering her background, but now he fondly smiled and moved nearer a chair on which
was propped an obviously well-loved teddy bear, a tartan scarf wrapped around his neck.

“Aloysius,” he whispered, immediately recognizing one of the most famous bears in literature.

“I call him Sebastian.”

Jack turned to see Adalia now under the covers, her legs drawn up towards her chest and her arms wrapped them.
Grinning he asked, “So who was the Waugh fan in your family?”

“My mother and my older sisters. They fell in love with the series; couldn’t get enough of it. Mom said it was the
best thing on TV since Upstairs, Downstairs and I, Claudius and she was addicted to both of those. I was too
young to remember it when it first ran, but…that’s why God created the DVD.”
“But you called him…”

“I…I thought Sebastian was more appropriate I guess. And when you’re little, it’s easier to say than Aloysius,
especially if you’re missing a tooth or two or three.”

Jack sighed fondly, one hand touching the bear with the greatest of affection. “I had a Paddington. I suppose
every child in the Empire had one if their parents could afford it.”

“Oh I loved Paddington. We had a Paddington and…an FAO Schwarz bear…oh and a Gund teddy in our
playroom but…Sebastian…Sebastian was mine. I don’t go anywhere without him so we’ve been everywhere
together, and he’s shared my school days…” She was relaxed, even as Jack began to move in the direction of her
bed. “…my birthdays and my bat mitzvah. He’s seen London and Paris, New York and Tel Aviv, Rome and
Florence and Jerusalem and Provence…”

“Does he have his own passport? What about frequent flyer miles?” Corbett teased.

Adalia let loose with one of her infectious giggles. “Oh he does…absolutely! On both counts.”

Jack was now on the opposite side of the bed, and he nearly sat down, but at the last moment resisted, just as his
eyes caught sight of a small, silver-framed photograph on the night stand nearest him. For a second, it was like
gazing into a mirror as he saw his own image and that of Adalia’s, both laughing and smiling into the cellular
phone’s camera lens as the self-timer counted down. The positioning was slightly off-kilter, but neither of them
had cared and in fact had laughed about it being imperfect, but it had not mattered. He remembered the day too:
it was a September weekday when Adalia had some free time; they had driven as far outside the main Point
venue as they could get for those few precious hours, she had packed a picnic lunch…and that picture was the
remnants of their time together. He looked at her again, finding that the real thing was so much sweeter.

“So…So you brought him to the Point too?” he asked, continuing the talk of teddy bears.

“I…” she softly began her voice tremulous with emotion, and then glancing over to the chair where the bear was
positioned. “I…couldn’t have left him behind anymore than I would have Casey. After all…this is my home
now.”

“Have I told you…? Of course I have.”

“What? Jack?”

“I was going to say…ask…have I told you how glad I am that this is your home?”

Adalia sighed. “Yeah…but you can tell me again…and again…and again. The way you do when you say…when
you tell me…” and she mouthed I love you knowing that if she spoke the phrase aloud it would end up as a
choked clutter of words. Instead, she bowed her head towards the empty side beside her. “Do you mind…? Is
that side…?”

“It’s the side I usually sleep on. Well, find myself waking up on at any rate. Thank you.”

“Then…”

The young lawyer smiled, removed his shoes, and after a second’s indecision climbed onto the bed, his body
positioning itself on top of the comforter and finally relaxing as Adalia made herself at ease underneath the
Egyptian cottons. The rustling of linens caused Jack to inhale and close his eyes, his perceptions filling with
what seemed to be a very familiar scent.
“Don’t I know that…? What is that?” he asked.

“The fragrance?” It had grown more prominent now that the sheets were moved and the pillows plumped.

“Yeah…that…I know that, don’t I?”

“Probably….It’s lavender…It’s a lavender linen spray. Kath made it up for me. It’s to help you relax so you
spray your pillows and linen with it and let it dry…”

“Lavender…” he sighed, easing his head down to one pillow. “I thought it smelled familiar….It’s nice…” and
uncertain whether he should say more, he grew quiet.

After extinguishing both the lamp and the jar candle on the stand beside her, Adalia rolled to her left side,
propping herself up on one arm. Jack did the same, positioning himself on his right so that they were gazing into
each other’s faces, still able to distinguish the other in the soft glow of the moonlight glistening through the sheer
curtains over the nearby windows.

“So…is this what you had in mind?” she asked, using her free hand to reach over and stroke his nearest hand.

“I think...Yes, this…this is what I had in mind.”

“Well…you are sleeping with me.”

Jack exhaled, making his satisfaction very evident. “I am sleeping with you, and I know, it might not be what
any of my brothers would have in mind, but I’m not them….I just…I wanted us to be close, Addie, even if
neither of us are…well…”

“Even if neither of us are ready yet?”

Corbett nodded, silent, enjoying the feel of Adalia’s soft touch. “We will…one day I’m certain.”

“I know.”

“Soon.”

“Soon,” she repeated back, her eyes never leaving his. “Then we can learn together?”

Jack chuckled. “About…how awkward and inexperienced I am?”

“How awkward and inexperienced we both feel, yeah.” She scooted a few inches closer, the linen covering her
and supporting him remaining as their little wall of Jericho.

“You know…I don’t mind…” Adalia continued.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t mind lying in your arms all night.”

Jack smiled. He could tell that she was getting sleepy – her voice was evidence of that.

“I don’t mind waking up in them either,” and she stifled a yawn.

“You all right?”

She nodded, but then slowly shook her head. “I’m…I’m more tired than I thought.” This time the yawn came
despite her attempts to prevent it.

“Well, you’ve been going all day. Maybe…Maybe it’s time…” and with the slightest indication of what was on
his mind, Adalia caught his hint and shifted nearer so that she was – as in the living room – resting within the
crook of Jack’s arms.

“I set the alarm for you,” she muttered.

“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “I want to get back early….Don’t want anyone to see me
sneaking back.”

“Mmm…especially if you’re supposed to be sick,” she teased.

“Especially….Although right now…if they did…I don’t think I’d care,” he confessed, two fingers gently
kneading one side of her neck, detecting her even breathing as she became more relaxed, all nervousness now set
aside. It was what Jack had desired for them: to be without pressure, to avoid the chitchat and joking and
inquiries. He knew it would not last when they finally announced their relationship to the world, but for now…
for now, there was simply…peacefulness.

“It won’t be long,” came a tiny voice.

“But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Nice?”

“Keeping our secret.”

Adalia opened her eyes, nodding. “Yeah…” she whispered, allowing one arm to ease across his broad chest. “I
wish it could always be this way, without all the questions and the…”

“I was just thinking the same…but it’ll be good…it’ll be good when we can finally tell everyone….No more
pretending….No more hiding…”

“No…more…No…” but the words faded nearly as soon as they were spoken when she finally fell asleep.

Corbett did not speak, instead glancing down to smile at the figure which he now drew protectively closer. No
more of any of that….

He was sleep before another minute burned a vibrant red on the ebony screen of the nightstand clock….

Part Seven
Rated PG-13

“So what did he say?”

Aubrey paused on the final step as he descended back into the Tavern, permitting one large hand to take hold of
the banister as he shook his head, a slight smile pulling at a corner of his mouth. “He said nothing, John, but that
was only due to there not being a response to my knock,” he told John Biebe. “None at all, but then I only
knocked two or three times before I gave up. If he was in a deep sleep, that is what he needs best, so no need
awakening him to inquire after his health and then hoping he manages to return to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s a fact,” the Alaskan chuckled, remembering the times he was in the hospital; fast asleep, only to
have someone come into the room to wake him to give him something to assist his sleep! “Well…thanks Jack….
I appreciate that.”

“You know it was no problem. We can look in on him again in the morning….Now…if you will excuse me…”

John could see the hunger in his brother’s eyes as they shifted slightly towards the buffet board. “You go, Jack.
Be sure to try the barbecued pork roast; sounds like it’s getting some great reviews.”

“Oh I intend to,” the Englishman exclaimed, slapping Biebe on the back as he joined some of the others at the
table, even as one voice was shouting that the break was nearly over and would everyone begin to return to their
seats.

Guess I ought to get something to take back to my table before it’s all gone Biebe thought, even as he once more
considered the case of Jack Corbett. So the younger man had not felt well. So he had decided to sleep rather than
play poker. It might often seem that the brothers were impervious to pain and sickness, but after all when one
considered it, they were human, not supermen despite the beliefs of many of the fans. And sometimes they
became ill, even with the most minor of complaints. Jack had been feeling off all day – John had witnessed that
himself….

So why do I keep…?

“John! You coming?! You don’t want to miss out on this!” Braddock was calling out, disturbing Biebe’s internal
questions about all the events.

“Yeah John…You know how we eat!” Zack joked. “Either come and get it or forever hold your fucking peace.”

“Like Adalia didn’t fix plenty,” Arthur sensibly muttered as he eagerly snatched up two more slices of pizza.

John gave the second floor one final glance, smiled as he pushed his hair behind his ear then sauntered over to
the main set-up.

******

Her vision caught the play of light the second one eye opened just slightly, and for the longest she watched,
uncertain for how long, as solid flakes of milk-white and silver twirled and twisted within the blends of pale gold
and pinks, presenting her with a light show of moonlight vainly pushing aside the coming of daybreak. This was
not the first time she had lain in bed, attempting to awaken, but instead pausing to observe this pleasurable,
serene dance across her walls and carpet, something that never failed in making her smile and laugh as the beams
occasionally worked their way over the top of her bed.

Faerie lights she had called them after the first experience. They reminded her of faerie lights if such a thing
existed; the accompaniment of Tinker Bell as she and Peter made their way into the Darling children’s
nursery….

Nothing to fear she was told when she eventually mentioned it during the most casual of conversations, half-
expecting to be mocked as soon as she related the occurrence. Instead the others explained that this often
happened as part of the Point’s enchantment, and Adalia found herself feeling quite moved as she listened to her
employer tell of the first time she had come across it near the Hotel, taken there by the man who would
eventually become her husband.
So Adalia started anticipating them when she awoke early on work days, but it seemed always a few minutes
before the alarm sounded, giving her time to either prop her pillows behind her or relax on her side, whichever
position would allow her to settle down and enjoy the display as it deserved to be. On occasion she would even
reach out to touch them, always amazed that the lights had substance, felt cool and warm against her fingers and
palms, tickling them, giving her an inward flush….

Jack would like this….I wonder if he’s ever….”Jack?” she whispered, reaching ahead of her.

And only then – upon opening both eyes – did Adalia realize that no one else was in the bed.

“Jack?” she softly asked again, her lips trembling slightly as she felt the spot where she believed the body had
lain; was certain she caught the hint of a man’s cologne lingering on the comforter, and she carefully searched
her memories of the previous evening. Corbett had managed to sneak out of the poker game….They shared
Sabbath dinner together; had sat by the fireplace and shared their hopes and desires and speculated on a future as
a couple; decided when the announcement would be made to the entire Point….

She had not wanted him to leave, he had not wished to do so either, and Jack had suggested and she agreed…

So where did he go? she wondered, glancing about, vaguely recalling falling asleep in his arms.

That was when she heard the sound of a door opening, then closing and in the dimness could make out the figure
slowly move away from the bathroom then approach the bed, unspeaking until ‘it’ was sitting on the mattress
and leaning towards her, tenderly taking one hand in his own. The very touch was enough to make her sigh
contentedly and relax underneath the covers.

“Jack…”

“Morning….”

“Morning.”

“And here I was trying not to wake you.”

“You didn’t….You didn’t….”

“I was just trying to clean up a bit before I head home….Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no…No of course not.”

“And I left everything the way I found it,” he continued, mischievously wiggling his eyebrows.

Adalia gave him a lighthearted slap. “Jack! You’re silly.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called silly before.”

“No?”

“No…but let me think a moment….No…I’ve never been called silly, but coming from you…” They both
laughed as Corbett once more permitted his lips to lightly press upon hers, leaving behind the sweetest taste. But
as he pulled back, he could not help chuckling at the sight of several pale gold lights glistening upon Adalia’s
face and then flit away, causing her to swat at them as one might a fly. Jack playfully did so as well, then
commented “Aren’t they amazing? I call them fireflies.”
Adalia seemed slightly surprised. “Fireflies…I like that. I’ve…I call them fairy lights…You know…like Tinker
Bell…not the Disney movie…Like…”

“The old musical...a light, a bright light that follows Peter everywhere.”

“That’s it….” She adjusted her position in the bed. “I was laying here wondering…I wondered if you’d seen
them before, especially with you being at the Point for so long.”

“Well, not that often, but yes, yes I have seen them before and others have too….Did Tina tell you about the first
time she saw them?”

“Back when she first came here. She said John took her out to a clearing one morning and...she said she knew
exactly how I felt.”

“Well this…this is only a small demonstration,” he confided. “There are places in the Point where…Anyway…
one day…I’ll show you this one site where…” His enthusiasm was contagious. “We’ll go there before dawn…
right before the daybreak begins…and you’ll…I can’t even describe how incredible it is! It makes this…this is
only a prelude. Just wait; you’ll see.”

“I can’t wait,” she told him.

But now Corbett grew serious as he smoothed back her hair. “Look…I’m sorry if I did wake you.”

“Honestly…you didn’t….My internal alarm was going off anyway…”

“Was it? Even on your day off?”

Adalia nodded. “Force of habit.”

“I understand that,” he admitted, remembering the many times he had the opportunity to sleep late but could not.

“And I had the alarm set for you, too,” she reminded him. “I told you I had.”

“I appreciate that, love, I do, but like you…the old internal clock....I was up before it ever went off. Turned it off
too so it wouldn’t wake you.”

“You’re good,” she teased him.

“I try….So…any plans…any plans for the rest of your Sabbath?”

“Mmm…resting…relaxing….”

“You deserve that.”

“But I want to go Outside later….Go to Synagogue. I get to so rarely…”

“Right.”

“It’ll be nice….It’s been so long….You know what?”

“What?”
“One day…when we can spend more time together…would you like to go the Synagogue with me? Just…
experience a Shabbat service or…”

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” He paused, thinking of something and he felt Adalia touch his upper arm,
an indication that he should speak what was on his mind. “I was wondering…I was going to ask you at any
rate…”

“What was that?”

“Would you accompany me to Christmas Eve services this year?” He saw her eyes sparkling. “I…I figured that
since we’d be public by…”

“Yes.”

“Hmm?”

“I said yes…yes…I’d love to go to Christmas Eve services with you.” But Adalia laughed on seeing the surprise
on Jack’s face, as though – even after his invitation – he suddenly realized what the Christmas holiday actually
meant. “I mean it! I want to! Jack…” she started insisting, “Don’t look at me like that! I happen to like
Christmas – a lot!”

“You…?”

“I…like…Christmas. I even say Merry Christmas…I…I love hearing Merry Christmas and I love Christmas
carols and Christmas trees and Christmas wreaths, and okay, I don’t put up a tree myself, that might be a bit
much…” Corbett was laughing. “…but it’s one of my favorite times of the year….So you’d better not dare
rescind that invitation after you make it.”

“I don’t think I’d better at this point,” Jack admitted, pretending to shudder. He was already imagining them
walking into the candlelit church….

“Hey…what about you? What do you have up?” She quickly covered her mouth to hide a yawn….but then took
a sharp intake of breath as Jack took the hand in his.

And he shrugged in response to her question, kissing the back of the small limb as his thumb massaged the
knuckles and the other fingers caressed her palm, noticing the slight tremble at the thought of him leaving. He
did not know when he might be this intimate with her again before their announcement was made; did not know
when he might simply exchange a glance or innocently shake her hand as though they were the most casual of
friends. But one day soon, he reminded himself, there would be no need to rush away under the cover of
darkness. He would visit her cottage, stay the night if she desired it…remain in her bed and keep her warm…
safe…loved. “Don’t know…” he finally responded. “Figure I’ll make a speedy recovery.”

“Uh-uh….Make it last out the day at least. You know…twenty…twenty-four hour bug or something. Get room
service; have them bring you a light lunch…dinner…watch a movie or two…then make an appearance Sunday
morning when you’re fully ‘recovered.’ Say that you didn’t…I don’t know…that you didn’t want to give
whatever you had to someone else.”

“You’re sneaky,” and they both laughed, but then his smile widened in agreement. “No, you’re right. It does
make more sense, doesn’t it? Give me a bit of a holiday too.”

“There you are!” She nearly yawned again, but was able to fight it back.
“I ought to go….Think you can go back to sleep?” On seeing her bow her head, Jack eased an arm behind her
spine and with great tenderness, placed her down onto the mattress, her head finally reclining back onto the
pillows. He watched as her eyes drooped, attempting to struggle with what was obvious and he heard himself
saying, “Shhhh…” as he cupped one hand against her face and kissed her lips again. “Don’t fight it love….Go
back to sleep….I’ll make sure the front door is locked when I leave….” He smoothed back her hair, watching as
she rolled onto her side, her figure finally becoming peaceful once more. Leaning close and kissing her ear, he
whispered, “Oh God…I love you, Addie. And remember...I’ll always be here for you….I’ll always protect you…
and I’ll always try to worthy of you.….”

***

“So did you check him again this morning?”

Tina was in a mothering mode…and nearly making her husband feel like the sheepish big brother who had failed
on his duties to his younger (and more helpless) sibling. Why John suddenly felt as though he had been dropped
into an episode of Leave It To Beaver he had no idea, but he realized she did not intend for it to sound that way.
In fact, he knew that once he explained in more detail, she would return to her usual self.

“Of course…Of course we checked him this morning.” Good grief that sounded defensive! “Checked him right
before I came home.”

His wife’s brown eyes softened. “You did?”

“I did,” John stressed, taking a drink from his coffee mug and welcoming the medium-dark blend as it went
down his throat, giving him the jump start he required after the long night. My God that’s good – hits the spot.
Despite the drink however, the Alaskan blinked as though attempting to stay awake and was slightly startled
when he heard Tina’s anxious voice.

“And?”

“And…uh…he finally answered….In fact, I was about ready to leave; was going to see if one of the others
would check on him later, when he finally unlocked the door and looked out. Said he’d been sleeping all night;
had been ever since he left us at the game.”

“Poor Jack,” Tina softly said, picking up her cup again as she gazed straight ahead, her tone was already
reflecting the return to normalcy that her husband had correctly anticipated.

“Apologized for not hearing Aubrey’s knock…”

“Right.”

John reached over, placing one hand over one of hers and giving it a caring massage. “You okay?” He thought he
detected a slight wince on her face despite her not complaining, knowing that on occasion, the benefits of the
surgery several months before would reveal itself in what Tina described as ‘a quick piercing’ within her lower
abdomen. She did not complain, knowing it was all part of the healing process, but there were times when these
piercings went from barely noticeable to nearly causing her to double over.

She nodded, smiling. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “So what did Jack…?”

“Oh…well…I told him I was glad he didn’t…I mean about answering the door…since he obviously needed the
rest.”

“So how did he look?”

“He looked…” Biebe was uncertain how to describe the appearance of the sick young Aussie. “Well…he didn’t
come out into the hall; just stayed there in the doorway and it was so dark behind him – the lights weren’t on in
his room – it was hard to really see anything….Come to think of it, he just kind of…peeped around the door.”

“Oh….”

“And he was…well…he looked tired…hair mussed up…grunted…”

Tina looked surprised. “Jack grunted?”

“Said he didn’t sleep all that well and he probably wasn’t feeling all that sociable either; remember darlin’…I
woke him up. Can’t say I’d be on top of the world if somebody did that to me.”

“Yeah…true….So what’s he going to do then? Or…what did he say he was going to do?”

“Crash for the rest of the day.”

“He doesn’t want to see Anthony?”

“Tina…what man is going to admit that he wants to see a doctor?”

“Right…I forgot,” he chuckled, sipping her coffee and teasingly mouthed ‘Men’ which caused John to snort and
try hard not to show his amusement. “I only knew one man that never complained about needing a doctor and
that was my grandfather, rest his soul, but that’s another story altogether.”

“Is that the one that was always worried about storms?”

“That’s him….So anyway…since Jack’s not going to see Anthony…”

“He’s going to crash for the rest of the day; figures it’s one of those twenty-four hour bugs and he’ll feel better
tomorrow; said he didn’t want to give any of us what he has.”

“That’s sweet of him.”

“So looks like room service, sleep and a DVD are on his schedule for the day.”

“He needs it, and I’d rather he do that than pretend – like you guys occasionally do – that he’s feeling just fine…
and ends up falling flat on his butt the second he’s out of the bed.”

It was now John’s turn to laugh. “Sweetheart…such stereotypes….But no, you’re right. He was probably
pushing himself too much yesterday trying to help us set things up. He needs this. Not much is going to be going
on around here today anyway. I even think SID was close to collapsing and you know how he is.”

“Looks like you’re ready to crash yourself,” she joked, gently tousling John’s hair. “You haven’t really told me
how things went at the tournament.”

Biebe shrugged. “Same old, same old.”

“Didn’t win, huh?”

“Third place,” the Alaskan mumbled, shaking his head in annoyance at how his evening had started well,
slackened off, picked up again, and just managed to pull even as it was all coming to a conclusion. “Just wasn’t
my night I guess.”

“Oh well…” and now it was his wife’s turn to give him a sympathetic stroke of the cheek, enjoying the feel of
his beard against her hand. “I guess I could say ‘better luck next time’ but that doesn’t really help now, does it?”

John kissed her palm. “No…but I’ll live…sort of…I think,” he laughed.

“Head still aching?”

“Not as much as it was, no. I’ll be fine…and breakfast…breakfast really helped.” He looked down at the plate
and what little remained of the omelet, bacon and toast.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d get home. I was on IM with Steph for a few before I turned in…”

“What time was that?”

“Uh…four-thirty…five I think…maybe quarter after…something like that.”

“Nah…we were still going strong.”

“Well we were teasing each other ‘cause she said Anthony wasn’t home yet and I said neither were you, and then
I said something about probably not seeing you before noon.”

“It was all over and done with about eight. Jim let me use his shower…”

“That was nice of him.”

“…and I checked on Jack and headed home….I didn’t come upstairs though; didn’t want to wake you; just
crashed on the couch in the family room – waited ‘til I heard you come down.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I missed you though.”

Biebe smiled then cleared his throat. “So what did you end up doing last night?”

Tina smiled. “Nothing really. Watched a few old movies I hadn’t seen in a while: The Unknown, Pandora’s Box,
then uh…well shoot…one of the DeMille drawing room comedies with Gloria Swanson; figured I needed a
good laugh.”

“After Pandora’s Box and The Unknown I can understand why.” John had seen both and while he admired them
as great films (especially The Unknown), there was that certain touch of melancholy and tension that could push
one’s emotions to the edge. “So no Valentino then?”

“Why Teddy Bear – you’re not jealous of those dark, handsome Italian looks, are you?” The sheriff only laughed
harder at her teasing. “No…no Valentino. I ended up turning off the DVD player and read over some of the
résumés…”

John moved the cup from his mouth. “Oh that’s right! When are you going to start the interviews?”

“Wednesday…” she said, rubbing at her forehead as though already feeling the pressure there, “and then call the
finalists back on Friday. So if I’m lucky…we should have him hired by the weekend.”

“Would you like me to sit in on them with you, darlin’?”

“Oh that’s sweet, John, but…I think I can handle it. It’s not like we interview people every day of the week.”

“I know…but…I was just thinking about…I just hate thinking about you being under…well, under pressure
with…”

“I should be okay,” she assured him.

“Well…you let me know, all right, if you start…”

“I will…thank you….” She picked a tiny piece off the scone on her own plate and gave it a nibble. “I blame you
for all of this you realize that don’t you?”

“What?” John appeared genuinely stunned.

“For mentioning that it had been a while since we’d had a handyman, and it might be nice to get a new one since
Daniel…”

“I did bring that up, didn’t I?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“No wonder that sounded like a pretty good idea.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” John repeated, patting the back of her hand once more.

“I just want to get that out of the way before the holidays start in earnest – I mean we’re about two weeks away
from Thanksgiving; get him acclimated to the Point…and…” She suddenly smiled, causing the Alaskan to ask
what was on her mind – the expression was familiar when she was concocting some plan. “I was thinking…”

“What?”

“Do you think Jack might like some homemade chicken noodle soup?”

“Chicken noodle…?”

“I have some thighs in the freezer that I could defrost; that’d make a good stock….Fresh noodles in the fridge…
celery…carrots…bay leaves…Italian parsley….I need to check my recipe book but I think…I think I might have
everything for….I just bought dried rosemary…”

She was feeling much better, Biebe considered as he listened to her go over what she might require for the dish,
her carefree rambling like the proverbial music to his ears. When he recalled that weekend in September: the
crying…the sobbing…the prayers…her fingers groping for him…her breaking voice calling to him, screaming
to him in the night…calling to God….It had been perhaps the longest weekend of his life, but now seeing her….

“Sure I can take some to him,” he replied when she asked if he could take a jar to his brother. “I think he’d
appreciate that a lot.”

Part Eight
Rated R
Warning: This part contains graphic language and adult sexual content.
He loved XM Radio© -- loved how it often discovered music he could not be bothered to collect in any format;
enjoyed how – with the maneuvering of a remote – the channels would change and give him in milliseconds
anything he desired: classical; nothing but Sinatra; vintage comedy; old radio serials; news; opinions; top 40
from each of the past sixty decades; basketball; financing; American football; the football many knew as soccer;
NASCAR; weather in Los Angeles….Like the Internet, it opened the globe to him, gave him a desire for what
lay beyond the Point’s borders and made him feel very alive and a true part of things.

He did not recall touching the remote but obviously did. Until just this moment, whatever was on XM© simply
served as ‘mindless’ background to the careful ritual involved in dressing for dinner at one of the nicer Point
restaurants, particularly when it was crucial to attract notice. Now it struck him. The tune was so captivating, so
lyrical in an old-fashioned manner he tended to forget after all these years in this modern world, that Kim Barrett
inadvertently paused – both in humming and in knotting his tie – so that he might listen, paying closer attention
than he ever previously had. Sighing contentedly, he caught sight of the reflection of a smile now bordering on a
simper, and laughing joyfully at the world that often unfairly cloistered him; he quickly accompanied The Four
Aces in a strong baritone of which he was never ashamed:

….Love is nature's way of giving

A reason to be living
The golden crown that makes a man a king

Once on a high and windy hill

In the morning mist
Two lovers kissed
And the world stood still
Then your fingers touched
My silent heart and taught it how to sing
Yes, true love's
A many splendored thing

Once on a high and windy hill

In the morning mist
Two lovers kissed
And the world stood still
Then your fingers touched
My silent heart and taught it how to sing
Yes, true love's
A many splendored thing

Kim had vague memories of singing the song back in Australia, perhaps at some party he attended or some night
club he was frequenting. He knew it had been around – at that time – for years, the title taken from a movie of
the same name, but considering the continent often did not get something popular in the rest of the world until
some time had passed, it may have seemed very up-to-date for him.

There was even a possibility that he disliked it, but figured that often in order to win over a girl, learning
romantic lyrics was important, even if – as a male – he found them syrupy and sentimental. But women liked
that sort of thing he reasoned and sometimes sacrificing one’s self-respect was crucial to meet the ends. And let’s
be honest…I think they quit writing romantic lyrics sometime in the mid-Sixties. We went from ‘then your fingers
touched my silent heart and taught it how to sing’ to ‘girl we couldn’t get much higher – come on baby light my
fire.’ Hmm…not there’s anything wrong with lighting a woman’s fire, but there’s the foreplay to consider…and
some....
He stopped again and glared at the handsome image before him. One can be worth all the foreplay imaginable…
when you love her.

Even now, he disbelieved that such a sentence had entered his mind; that calculating, efficient mind, and yet it
came unbidden because it was true, and he could snort and mock himself all he wished as he returned to the duty
at hand.

I love her….There…I said it….No…I thought it. Say it….Let the world hear it….

And Kim proudly proclaimed, “I love her! Do you hear that?” he demanded of his reflection, imagining it as all
of his brothers, roaring with laughter and shouting epithets. “I…love…Adalia and I don’t give a fuck what any
of you think. You all sit around all…smug and arrogant because you think ‘Oh…everyone knows my movie.
They don’t know yours from Adam, Kim….Why would they be the least bit interested in you?’”

Turning up his nose and snorting, pretending that he was staring them all down with the contempt they deserved,
he declared, “Because…I’m…Kim…Barrett. I’m not SID-LITE no matter what all of you think. I didn’t have to
resort to histrionics or blubbering or simpering or borderline insanity or mental illness or pent-up rage to get a
woman’s attention! If that was the case, Adalia would have been in your arms long before now! I didn’t need a
fucking Oscar….I didn’t need a fucking Golden Globe….I don’t have to look like a stupid puppy dog whining
for notice! Adalia knows better. She knows a real man….She knows…She knows a real man,” he repeated,
finally satisfied with the look of the tie and stepping back, saw the warmest smile greeting him, the smile he
would give when he saw the Point’s chef tonight. “A man who really…cares.”

Even he noticed the transformation the more he came to love her. He knew this was more than the typical one-
night stands for which he was infamous, and although the pursuit of an attractive lurker remained one of his
favorite pastimes, he began to take care that Adalia never see the latest conquest. It would not do for her to think
he was not serious for she did take him as such whenever they spoke, whether it was for a few minutes or an
hour or two when she prepared some special dinner for him to savor with an untried vintage. She laughed with
him, not at him. She seemingly respected him even when they disagreed.

Those were the things he loved about her – had adored from afar when she was not watching, when she was
about her normal duties or relaxing, unaware that all he desired was to take her into his arms….He could
imagine her now: exhausted, taking a breather in a corner which she thought would give her some escape. Kim
was motionless, observing her as she removed that tall white chef’s hat which hid those golden hairs from view;
unbuttoning the white jacket showing the signs of all the hard work; tiny droplets of sweat mopped from the
smooth brow and from about her slender throat.

No…let me and his fingertips and lips would do the duty for her. You’re so tired, my love. So tired….They have
no idea how much of yourself you put into all this hard work. They can’t even begin to understand…but I do. I
always have. I always will….

Someone to love. Someone to come home to. The opportunity to feel as his brothers did.

No wonder that song had meant so much to him that he stopped to listen. Adalia Rabinovich had done something
to him without intending, had silently grabbed hold of his heart and made him realize that life at the Point was
not always so…well, pointless.

And as he carefully applied the most subtle of his colognes, then pulled on his pinstriped jacket and tucked a
handkerchief in the pocket, the final preparations for the evening to come, he caught himself singing once again:

Stay away from my window

Stay away from my back door too
Disconnect the telephone line
Relax baby and draw that blind

Kick off your shoes and sit right down

Loosen up that pretty French gown
Let me pour you a good long drink
Ooh baby don't you hesitate cause

Tonight’s the night

It's gonna be alright
Cause I love you girl
Ain't nobody gonna stop us now

C'mon angel my hearts on fire

Don't deny your man's desire
You'd be a fool to stop this tide
Spread your wings and let me come inside

Tonight’s the night

It's gonna be alright
Cause I love you girl
Ain't nobody gonna stop us now

Don't say a word my virgin child

Just let your inhibitions run wild
The secret is about to unfold
Upstairs before the night's too old

Tonight’s the night

It's gonna be alright
Cause I love you woman
Ain't nobody gonna stop us now

The tune continued as he left his apartment, stealthily made his way through the Saturday night Tavern crowd,
and finally arrived to find a small line at the entrance to the semi-formal of the Hotel’s restaurants. So much for a
quiet evening he privately groaned, carefully eyeing the group of four that was ahead of him and now being
escorted by the maitre d’ to their table. Seems that everyone and their proverbial grandmother are here tonight,
but he was uncomplaining, waiting his turn, acknowledging with a smooth smile and a nod of the head the stares
of the lurkers behind him, until he was recognized by the staff and his reservation confirmed ‘for propriety’s
sake’ due to the new guests who might disapprove of him being seated so quickly.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Kim?” he was asked as he made his way along a familiar path.

“It has been a few weeks, yes. I’ve been dining at the other restaurants or just having something casual at the
Tavern or up in my room. I can’t believe how busy you are tonight.”

“I think it’s the rush before the holidays start. Not long ‘til Thanksgiving after all.”

“True.” He had to admit – he rather enjoyed that quaint American custom and this would be the first year to see
the Rabinovich touch.

“And here we are.” His usual table was indicated with a slight flourish of the head waiter’s hand.
“Thank you so much.”

“I assume you’ll be looking at the wine menu as well as the…”

“I most definitely want to see the wine menu, yes, but the dinner menu…” He stretched his neck, glancing
around the room until he spied the double doors which led to the inner sanctum that was the madness of a
demanding kitchen. “I am…hoping that Adalia is here tonight. I was told she…”

“Yes, she’s overseeing this kitchen tonight. The formal restaurant didn’t require her full-time attention; it’s not as
busy this evening.”

“Wonderful! Then when you have a moment, could you let her know that I’m here? I think…for a nice change…
instead of ordering from the regular menu…” and he accepted the heavy, leather-bound volume containing every
alcoholic beverage at the Point, “I would like our head chef to prepare something special around my wine
selections. I’m not in a great hurry and…”

“I’m sure she will be more than happy to, Kim. You go ahead and start looking over the wines – you’ll see that
we’ve added about a half-dozen new ones – and I’ll have the sommelier …”

“No, that’s all right. Let the sommelier see to anyone that might need him. I’ll be fine, but thank you – I
appreciate it.”

No, there was no great hurry, not when he had all the time in the world; not when he was on a mission, and
although he tried hard to concentrate on the carefully laid out columns before him, it was not long before the
French and Spanish, the German and English and Italian began to blur into a hodgepodge of meaningless
nothing. How could he possibly focus or honestly care when….

And there she is....and the view of her emerging from the kitchen caused him to unconsciously brush a hand over
his throat as though the tie had grown too rigid. Incredible how even now – busy, animated – she could manage
to still look beautiful, particularly when one could not consider her outfit all that attractive.

“Kim!” She actually seemed happy to see him as she hurriedly approached the table, her comfortable black clogs
tapping slightly upon the hardwood floor.

“Adalia…good evening to you.” No…he took that back – the idea that her uniform was not suitable, but that
came down to the fact that there was a lovely woman wearing it. And unlike the commonplace, unisex uniforms
worn by most, her executive chef’s coat was designed for a woman’s physique, and therefore revealed her
curvaceous figure. Even the khaki cargo pants flattered her form.

“I didn’t know you were coming in tonight,” she said, removing her little white chef’s hat so that the tightly
bound golden hair was revealed.

“Well, I thought I’d take a chance on things not being too busy…”

The former Hoosier chuckled. “Yeah…well…that didn’t exactly pan out, did it?”

“No…No…can’t say that it did,” he laughed in reply. “But I’m glad I called this afternoon just to make certain
my favorite table wasn’t reserved for anyone else.”

“I’m glad you made it.”

Barrett flashed a broad smile, showing off his perfect teeth. “I am too….So…” and he slapped his hands together
once and eagerly rubbed them, “tell me what you can suggest?”
“I was told that you don't want to dine off the main menu.”

“No….Not being critical…” and he looked around him as though not wishing anyone but Adalia to hear, “but I
get tired of eating what everyone else is eating…” He drew the tome before his face, pretending to read but
instead, taking a moment to gather his strength for what was to later come.

Adalia smiled and tossed back her head, her expression revealing that she had heard that complaint more than
once. “Uh-huh,” she said, crossing her arms.

“And I was perusing the wine list and thinking…” He paused.

“Thinking…?”

“That there are some Spanish wines on here that I don’t recognize…”

“And…?”

“And…” He revealed his face again. “I was thinking how wonderful it might be…if you were to choose
something…nice…something…I have perhaps never tried before…and then thought…what would go better
with such a thing…”

“Than a dégustation?”

“You’re reading my thoughts.”

“Was I?” she teased. “I just figured that it might be appropriate considering….Hey…did you have anything
specific in mind, as far as to drink.”

Kim extended his hands. “I will leave that to you as a Master Sommelier.”

“Ron!” Adalia’s powerful soprano rang across the room and a nearby waiter jumped to attention.

“Excuse me,” he whispered to those at his table and then he clearly replied, “Yes Chef!”

“A notepad and a pen or pencil please.”

“Yes Chef!”

That’s what I love about her….To obtain such respect and possess such power in those small hands….How the
hell does she do it? Kim eased a hand near his heart, praying that she did not notice how thrilled that voice –
filled with both authority and kindness – had made him.

Writing utensil and paper in hand, Adalia – in the most ladylike of ways – eased into the chair across from him,
pushing the black trimmed French cuffs further up her arms, and asking, “May I see the wine list, please?”

“Oh…of course.” Look at her. She goes from a true chef and executive of the kitchen to that of a perfect lady in
the blink of an eye. How does she do it? He patiently watched as she loosened her neckerchief and ran the eraser
end of the pencil against her rose-hued lips. “What are you…?”

“A quick question.”

“Yes?” Anything to please.

“Any preferences? Do you want to try a bit of…I guess we can say a medley of meat and seafood…a little of
everything, or would you prefer to go all vegetarian or all seafood…or…even all dessert? And we can go four…
five courses.”

Kim laughed heartily. “Well…as tempting as nothing but desserts may sound…I’m going to admit something to
you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been starving myself since breakkie in the anticipation of what you might create for me.”

The comment made her smile. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Well, no need of spoiling dinner with something I might throw in the microwave. So…do you have anything in
mind?”

Adalia giggled. “Reminds me of the ‘Iron Chef’ competitions Tina put us through when I was trying to get the
position. Throw us a ‘secret ingredient’ and see what we could whip up in less than an hour.”

“So this isn’t daunting for you then?”

“On the contrary…” she softly commented, quickly scribbling on the pad, “I’m always going to find it a
challenge. I guess I push myself too much sometimes.”

“But that’s the sign of any great artist.” Barrett noticed a blush creep into the woman’s cheeks, even as she
continued writing. “It might sound a tad clichéd, but I think those like you die a little inside when you can’t
express yourself to the fullest.” There was no response to his words outside of Adalia’s face growing more and
more crimson. “It’s a gift. You should never hide it.”

The chef shook her head, obviously embarrassed as she briefly looked up then returned her eyes to what she was
writing. “Uh…thanks. Thanks Kim.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true.” She’s trying to ignore me, pretend that what I’ve said isn’t true. That’s
sweet when she’s so modest….

“There!”

The pronouncement nearly caused Kim to jump. “You’re done?”

Putting the wine list aside, she nodded and tapped on the pad. “I think…let me run this by you. See what you
think.”

“Is Paella on there?”

“Kim, Kim…” She pretended to be disappointed on hearing that. “We can do Paella anytime…when we have
the time. I wanted to throw out something different to you.”

“I’m all ears,” and he gave her his full attention.

“Terra do Gargalo 2003…”

“All right.”
“It’ll go good with your tapas…you have to have tapas…but you’ll get aromas of honey, cooked orange, nutmeg
and cinnamon…”

“My word.”

“And it has a good length to it…and the baked apples, orange segments, and honey will be apparent…”

“Any oak?”

“Didn’t age in any. I think you’ll like it. Makes a nice change from the usual Chardonnay or Riesling. Oh and I
thought – just to give you a slight contrast, we’d also go with Kripta 2000.”

“Which is…?”

“A nice little bubbly….Nice….” She grinned. “It’s got a little complexity to it but we’re going with those lovely
fruits again both in the fragrance and the taste: citruses, pears, green apples dipped in honey.”

“And the tapas…?”

“I put down – and we’ll spread it out a bit over a couple of courses – Calamares a la Romana…Tigres –
Mejillones Rellenos…Potatoes Bravas…Gambas al Ajillo…”

“So…? Sorry my Spanish is a little rusty.”

“No, I’m sorry….It’s fried squid rings…stuffed mussels…bravas potatoes…garlic shrimp…”

“It sounds wonderful so far.”

“And I thought we’d try Cojonudos which are fried quail eggs with Chorizo…Pimientos Rellenos de Atun -- red
peppers stuffed with tuna…and to finish off the tapas dishes, Tortilla Española – Spanish…”

“A Spanish omelet. I’ve had one before, but not as tapas, no.”

“Well, instead of filling it with Chorizo since the quail eggs have those, I thought I’d pair your omelet with
Tapas Salmon Ahumado con Queso Blando – smoked salmon with cream cheese.”

“Go on.” He could say nothing more, and besides, it was nicer listening to such a romantic language coming
from that soft accent which captured her southern Indiana and Northern Kentucky roots than hear his own
cultured Australian.

“I couldn’t just go with gazpacho – that’s a soup you can eat anytime, so I figured…why not…Sopa de Pastor
Manchego which is a shepherd soup from LaMancha: a bite of Spanish ham and garlic and cooked eggs.”

“And it’s not too heavy?”

“Nope. I mean…you could make it a meal, but this time…no…I thought a little sample of it…along with Conejo
a la Cazadora – Spanish rabbit stew done hunter style….Good straightforward dishes that deserve a wine with
some character so they don’t clash…so I’m pairing them up with Legaris Reserva 1999; aged eighteen months in
new American and French oak; red cherries on the nose; tannic; it has style; it’s toasty. I think you’ll enjoy it….

“Now how about – for a change of pace – we sample some salad dishes: Salpicon de Marisco; Ensalada
Murcinana; and for a palate cleanser before the entrees, Ensalada de Naranja y Aquacate. So you’ll have a little
Spanish seafood salad with fresh seafood, gherkins, pepper, cocktail onions blended with vinegar and Spanish
olive oil; tomatoes and roasted peppers with capers, onions and a boiled egg; and sweet oranges and an avocado
with red onions and black olives….So perhaps the 2002 Agusti Torelló Mata Cava Reserve – nice with light
food; round, full and dry….”

I’m getting fat listening to what she’s chosen, but it would be worth it….They say that the way to a man’s heart
is through his stomach….They say that, don’t they? Of course she won my heart before I ever tasted anything
she had created….

He continued to listen to the samplings she would offer, pairing Rape al Limon (Spanish fish in lemon sauce)
with fish and clams in garlic wine sauce; tempting him with flank steak and Cabralas cheese, Cordero Asado
(Spanish roasted lamb), and Faisanes Escabechadas (marinated pheasant with mushrooms and white wine).

“So… this…Abadal Selecció 2001…”

“Will go…should go nicely with the lamb, and the Conde de Valdemar Reserva from 1999 shouldn’t clash too
much….” She sighed, catching her breath. “I know it’s a lot.”

“You’re given me a wonderful tasting, Adalia,” he beamed. “Absolutely incredible.”

“Well, it’s a lot of wine…”

“I’m not driving,” he joked, happy to hear her laugh. “And everything is a sample…that’s what a dégustation is,
am I right? I shall sit here, as contented as that clam they always speak of…and delight in the fact that not even
Sid has tried a lot of these.”

“As far as I know, he’s never had the Conde de Valdemar or…” One slender eyebrow rose. “You like sticking it
to him, don’t you?”

“I love him like the brother that he is…but yes, yes I do, as often as I can….So…shall we begin? Oh! Dessert!
What do…?”

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Has Sid…?”

Adalia shook her head.

“It’ll be worth it then. But can’t you give me a tiny hint? Please…” His eyes grew soft, almost boyish.

“Caramel apples…black pepper…almond brittle…bittersweet chocolate…walnuts and toffee, cherries and

coconut and ginger…”

“All of that?”

“All of that…and more.”

“I can’t begin to imagine….” He threw up his hands. “I’m ready.”

“Great! We’ll start you with….Hey guys! What’s up? How are you all?”

The cocoon within which Kim had encased himself and his future love was rent if only partially, allowing him
for the first time in minutes to realize that he was not the only person in the restaurant. He had not seen his
brothers enter, and while the sight of Jeffery Wigand was not surprising (he was a man of refinement), seeing
him accompanied by Jack Corbett and Jim Braddock definitely was.

There goes the neighborhood as the Yanks say….And seeing Adalia’s attention leave him was annoying at the
very least.

The three men were being placed several tables from Kim’s, well within view but giving him the privacy he
desired.

“Well Jeffrey comes here all the time…” Adalia was saying when Kim was past his initial annoyance at the
disturbance, “but Jim… this your first visit, right?”

The former boxer smiled and nodded, reaching out with one hand so as to shake Adalia’s right. “I’m not really
one for fancy restaurants, but Jeffrey said…”

“I told him that if a burger was all he wanted, then your kitchen could whip up one of the best he’d ever eaten,”
Wigand declared, slapping Braddock’s back. “And those meatball sliders you do…” He placed his fingers in
front of his lips and gave the salute indicating that something was good.

“Well, he’s right about that. We’re pretty proud of our burgers in here and…it might be a little fancier than what
you’d get over at the Tavern, but…I promise…we’ll give you a good meal.”

“That’s why I wanted him to come,” Jeffrey added. “Get away from the usual for a change.”

“I’m glad you could come, Jim.” She knew that one of his reasons for not coming was that – despite the passing
of over a year – he was still missing Mae and the children. Sitting in a restaurant like this, despite it being semi-
formal, likely made him long for them even more since they were not there to share such an experience with
him. He was even possibly remembering the time he and Mae had gone to dinner with Joe Gould and his lovely
wife at the same restaurant as Max Baer and his entourage. The restaurant – just from the brief glimpse in the
film – suggested one of New York’s finest in the Thirties. More importantly though, Adalia recalled the
Braddocks slipping some food into their napkins so they might take it home to the kids….

“You have a nice place,” Jim continued. “Jeff said it was.”

“Thanks. I hope you enjoy your visit” She smiled up at the remaining brother in the trio. “It’s good to see you
too, Jack.”

Corbett smiled, bowing his head. “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

Wigand’s mouth dropped. “I didn’t know you’d been here before.”

“A long time ago…not long after Adalia became the new chef. Just thought…” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d
try it out, but you know, this isn’t a place I’d come to on a regular basis.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just nice to have you back….Please…gentlemen…don’t stand on my account. Have a
seat, relax; get ready to enjoy your evening.”

“So tell me…why is the head chef…? Thank you,” Wigand said to the waiter as the menus were distributed.
“Why is the head chef out here on the floor? Problems?” The loud clearing of a throat caused the older man to
suddenly realize who was nearby. “Kim!”

“Jeffrey,” he solemnly replied.

“I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m dining alone,” and the words were said in such a way that no invitation to join him should be assumed.
“Adalia was personally working up a tasting menu for me.”

“Outstanding! I love to do those. Let me know how you enjoy it, will you? Might try it myself sometime.”

“Of course….Jim – it’s nice to see you out and about.”

“Thanks Kim.”

“And Jack…I haven’t seen you since you left our poker game. Are you better?”

Corbett looked away from his menu. “Much better. That’s why I accepted Jeffrey’s offer.”

“Good to see you out,” Kim brightly said and – to indicate that he was done with the chit-chat – turned his body
slightly as Adalia returned to his side. “So…you were saying…that to start things out…”

“Oh…um…” She seemed distracted and Kim could only figure that the trio’s arrival had thrown her off her
pace. “Oh! I was going to say…What was I going to say?” She laughed and then smiled. “I was going to say that
while you wait for the first tapas plate to arrive, I’ll have your waiter start you out with an aperitif to whet your
appetite….I thought…well…Tsarina Wines up in Rueda makes the tangiest little white…Naia 2003….It’ll
remind you of a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.”

“I don’t know Rueda.”

“It’s northwest of Madrid. This isn’t an expensive wine; it’s just a nice….It’s nice.”

“Ah….Well…I think that would be…delightful. And as I said…I’m not driving tonight.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when my waiters have to carry you home….Okay…let me get back …to my Batcave…”
and she redid her neckerchief and readjusted the sleeves of her coat. “…and we’ll get this started. You’ve got a
long evening ahead of you.”

“But well worth it,” he reminded her, his voice and expression soft. “Thank you for supervising this for me.”

“It’s my pleasure. Nothing makes me happier than seeing my clientele in high spirits.”

“You make it very easy.”

With another smile, Adalia spun about on her heels, only to stop when Kim called out “Adalia?”

She turned back to him. “Yes Kim?”

*****

“I have something to tell you. Something…Something important….Something…”

“Yes?” She was approaching him, slowly, cautiously, recognizing the seriousness in his voice, hearing how
hoarse it had grown…low…burning….

“I should have told you this weeks…months ago…at the time you first arrived.”
“What? Kim?”

Barrett reached out and took both of Adalia’s hands, feeling how warm they were, that they were trembling as
they vanished inside his larger palms. “I…I love you, Adalia.”

“You love…?”

“I love you Adalia. I…I think I loved you from the second I saw you up on the Tavern stage when you were
introduced to us.” He chuckled deeply; glad to see that she had not pulled away. “I swear…I think I loved
you when I saw the license plate on your SUV and Casey waiting for you and…I know…I know I must sound
like a fool but…”

“No.”

Kim blinked. Adalia’s voice had taken on an unrecognizable timbre and he watched as she moved nearer,
their hands remaining as one, her eyes blazing as another spirit – her true spirit – began to surface from
within her.

“Adalia…”

“You should have told me this…” but she paused as the neckerchief was anxiously thrown aside and several
of her fingers now fumbled at the buttons of her chef’s coat. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I…”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me this.”

“Adalia?” His question sounded almost ridiculous as he grinned, nearly speechless when she slid onto his
lap, her legs on either side of him as she faced him. “Adalia…”he groaned as she pressed the weight of her
privates against his. He could already feel the wetness through her panties….

“You want me now, don’t you?” She ran her hand over his hair and before Kim could respond, kissed him
hard on the mouth, her tongue impatiently playing with his, one hand tossing back his head until – upon
releasing him – she bit his lower lip, drawing blood.

He called ‘Ow’ before he could stop himself, but afterwards felt no pain. “You…You like it…?”

“A little rough….Don’t you?” she chuckled, sucking upon the wound with the relish of a vampire bride.

“Never…Never… bothered me…before…” he panted, shoving up her bra so that he could partake of the full
breasts that temptingly rubbed against him. Amazingly, he tried to look about him, at the others in the
restaurant, and realized that none of them were paying the couple any heed. “I…I…”

“Don’t talk!” she demanded, running her tongue over his face. “Don’t…talk…just…fuck….”

“Here?” Why his sudden desire to go somewhere private when…

“Yes…Yes…Here….NOW!” Her hands had already undone his pants so that his hardness was revealed, and
somehow Kim realized he was tearing the fabric of her panties aside as her legs tightened around the chair,
maneuvering her body so that he might do as he wished.

“Adalia…”
“Don’t talk – fuck me, Kim!” she ordered. “Fuck me!”

And he was inside her at once, no foreplay, no ridiculous tenderness, just the satisfaction of their needs, this
peculiar love they held for one another as they grunted and moaned, their voices blending in a sing-song
chorus of ‘fuck…fuck…fuck…’ as they thrust at each other with a violent passion that….

*****
“Yes Kim?”

Kim blinked. The chef was standing there, her head to one side as she calmly waited.

“I…I only wanted…I only wanted to say that…”

*****

“Yes?”

“I only wanted to say that…and you’re going to think I’m insane…”

“No…not at all, Kim. Why would you say that?”

“Because…I’m so afraid you’re going to laugh at me when…when I tell you…how much I love you.” There
– he said it…finally, nearly regretting it when he saw the surprise on her face.

“You love…?”

“I love you Adalia. I…I think I loved you from the second I saw you up on the Tavern stage when you were
introduced to us.” He chuckled deeply; glad to see that she had not pulled away. “I swear…I think I loved
you when I saw the license plate on your SUV and Casey waiting for you and…I know…I know I must sound
like a fool but…”

“No…you’re not a fool,” she interrupted, rushing forward and easing one hand over his mouth. She inhaled
sharply when – unintentionally – Kim gently kissed the soft flesh now pressed against his lips. Closing her
eyes, she sighed, her body trembling until she felt herself drifting into his arms.

With ease, Barrett pulled her onto his lap, and as she seemingly grew limp, he slowly, carefully undid the
white coat, pushing away the Egyptian cotton so that her breasts were revealed, her chest rising and falling in
a steady rhythm. When she did not protest, he continued, taking one of her hands within his own and easing
them down to the silken fabric that hid her private regions. Now, finding his own rhythm, he guided her hand
in a massage until at last, the panties were off to one side and they both touched…delved deeper…felt her
moisture….

Her sudden groan was cut off when his mouth covered hers, the groan becoming a low, near guttural,
desirous moan….

“You like that, don’t you?” he finally asked when he was again able to speak. He had kissed her so hard he
was afraid he had hurt her, but the way she held his hand…that hand….

“I…” Adalia was trying to shake her head.

“You do. I know you do. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he whispered, seeing the pleasure in her eyes.
“In your room…when you’re alone…thinking of me.”
Speechless, she could only nod.

“I can give you so much….So you’re never alone again….So that neither of us are alone again. I know how
much you want me…how much you need me....You love me, don’t you?”

She nodded again, her smile growing more wanton, familiar.

“I want to fuck you until neither of us can move.”

The smile reminded him of…him.

“Until neither of us can move,” she repeated hoarsely.

“Say it Adalia. Tell me,” he almost pleaded. “I have to hear you tell me.”

And she suddenly took the hands that had felt her and permitted Kim to have the taste he had wanted,
laughing as he licked them, sucked them. “I love you, Kim. I love you,” she finally managed, breathless. “I’ve
loved you…I’ve loved you...” But she could not finish as she squirmed slightly, eager for more. “There’s
never…”

Kim glared, jealousy filling his soul. “There’s never…what?”

“There’s never…been anyone…before you,” Adalia gasped.

“You…You’re a…? That’s…Adalia…that’s sweet….You…You saved yourself?”

“Yes.”

“For…”

“Someone like you….Someone…I knew…”and she groped for the zipper on his trousers, “could love me…”

“The way I can?”

Her only answer was to nod then sigh as she caught sight of what had been hidden by his clothing.

Kim delightedly chuckled. “You like what you see then?” Adalia nodded again. “Do you really want to please
me…the way I just did you?” Again there was an eager bowing of her head, her eyes widening as her
breathing intensified at the sight of what was becoming harder and more engorged. In fact, Kim was happy to
see that his love appeared hypnotized by the sight. “I can teach you then. I’ll be able to teach you so many
wonderful things if you simply love me back.”

“I already love you,” she sighed. “I love you.”

“Then slip down to your knees like a good little girl….That’s it….You’re so beautiful, darling. So beautiful…
and such a beautiful mouth…those lips….Now…I’m going to show you how…”

Minutes later, his hands were on top of her head, his fingers stroking her hair with the same steady tempo as
what Adalia was doing to him, only now, the pace was increasing as she seemed to take every inch of him into
her….All Kim could do was grunt, occasionally looking about at the others in the restaurant and realizing
that they were all going about their business.
“She’s a quick learner, isn’t she?” he cried out to no one in particular. “It’s like she was made for me!” He
looked down at the bobbing, untiring figure between his legs. “It’s like you were made for me, weren’t you my
love?” But there was no reply, not that he expected one. “That’s it….That’s it….Oh that’s….Fuck….Fuck….
For a virgin you’re….Oh that’s….Damn…Shit….Come on…Come on….I’m all…”

**

“I’m all ears, Kim. Did you want to change something?”

“Menu?” He wondered how stupid he had looked as he imagined a partially naked chef on her knees – eager,
willing, eating him, swallowing his life-giving…

Adalia did appear puzzled that he seemed slightly confused by her question. “Did you want to change something
before I turn it in? I’m going to work on most of your dishes myself, but I don’t want you to feel that I’m making
you have…”

“I…” He took a drink of water in an attempt to calm himself, then covering his mouth as he coughed, he finally
said, “I…No…it’s not about the menu but…I wondered…”

“Yes?”

“I only wondered…if…you’ll think…you’ll probably think I’m silly…but I wondered…if you might have
time...if you might have time to meet with me.”

“Meet with you?”

“Later. Later this evening, and of course once your shift is over.”

“I…” She was obviously surprised by this, but smiling, Adalia thought for a few seconds. “Um…well…I
guess….I hadn’t thought about it actually.”

“It’s only that…I’ve had something on my mind for a while now…and…I was hoping…”

“Oh! Oh okay. Fine…uh…I’ll tell you what. Let’s just play it by ear, okay? See how things go.”

“That works for me,” he admitted, thrilled that she was agreeing to meet with him.

“So no hints?” she teased.

“No...?” Kim laughed. “No…I’m going to keep this close to the vest and not breathe a word of it. Otherwise…
you might not join me.”

“Well, now you have my curiosity up.”

On hearing the word ‘up,’ he nearly ridiculously choked and with a nervous smile, took another drink of water.
He needed to stop these fantasies before he did or said something idiotic. Even now his imagination was at work
again:

The two of them were naked on the restaurant floor….Adalia was on his lap….he was sitting upright and was
inside her….Empty bottles of Spanish wine surrounded them; the reds and whites not only imbibed, but
massaged over the more responsive areas of their bodies so that they could savor the mingling of flesh and
nature’s blood….Their own fragrances now smelled of toffee and roasted nuts, of caramel and dried apples
and freshly ground black pepper….She said that an Amontillado was a perfect dessert wine. Kim teased that
they would be a dessert for one another and had poured the sherry all over her….

“Then if everything’s a go…”

Kim jumped slightly, stirring yet again so as to return to reality. This was getting out of control, and he prided
himself on being unruffled, composed, the most efficient of efficiency experts. A man who played the world’s
stock exchanges – not necessarily for cash – but for the thrill of the game, getting in and getting out before the
bubbles burst. Were he in the Real World, he would be a billionaire several times over! So where was that man
now?

“Oh yes, everything is most definitely a go. I’m leaving it all to you.”

“Okay then. Well…I hope you enjoy it all. If you have any problems let one of your servers know. I’ll go get
things started.”

“Thank you,” he called to her as she turned away, quickly disappearing into the kitchen. “Thank you,” he
repeated to no one in particular.

Luckily, as he glanced around the restaurant, he did not meet the eyes of Wigand – who was the only one facing
his direction – and prayed that his brothers did not decide to take it upon themselves to join his table. That had
been his fear when he made himself known, but no, they seemed perfectly happy in one another’s company.

And that suits me just fine!

****
While true that it was a sampling and therefore much smaller portions, Barrett wondered if he might have been
able to devour everything in sight had the shares been larger. Nearly two-and-a-half hours later, and he was still
unsure what he had enjoyed more. The tapas had been the perfect appetizers and he honestly could have eaten
another course of those and declared himself content. He lingered longer over the soup and the stew than he
intended, not certain which was best. The salads had left him wanting the recipes for some light lunch in his
apartment, but now, now he could not decide which of the entrée samples he enjoyed the most: the steak, the
pheasant or the roasted lamb. Everything – from their preparation, to the plating, to the way each melded with
the perfection of the dinner wines….He imagined that he was in Madrid or Barcelona, or deeply sniffing the
fragrance of a ripened pomegranate, or feeling the mortar – warm in the sun – of what was the Alhambra….It
was all there in everything he had enjoyed that night: the land of Ferdinand and Isabella, of El Cid, of the Moors
and Sephardic Jews, all these cultures giving him such a rich cuisine.

“So?”

Kim exhaled as though coming up for air and surveyed the empty dinner plate before him. Running a hand over
his still flat stomach, he grinned at the chef like a child on Christmas morning. This was the first time he had
seen her since she returned to the kitchen hours before, but as the dishes were removed and the crumbs swept
away by his servers, she felt that now was the time to make an appearance. “I…I am speechless.”

“Kim…”

“It was…I was right. You have a gift – a true gift. We’re lucky to have you here.”

Adalia was blushing, looking aside to hide her obvious embarrassment. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it? It was heavenly; absolutely heavenly. If I believed…” and the moment he began, he noticed the Star
of David hanging around Adalia’s neck, a piece of jewelry he usually saw her wear, no matter the occasion and
he quickly adjusted what he had been about to say. “I don’t know that I believe in a God…but there if there is,
He gave you a real genius and that isn’t an exaggeration.” And before Adalia could reply, Kim took both her
hands in his and gave them a vigorous shake. “Thank you.” They’re so soft….

“Well, you might change your mind after dessert.”

“I sincerely doubt it and speaking of dessert…are you going to tell me the wine now or not?”

“I’d be more than happy to,” and with a motion of her right hand (which she had carefully drawn away from
Kim’s hold), the Sommelier arrived at the table and presented the bottle for the Australian’s approval.

Kim blinked on seeing the label and whistled. “Oh my…and you said Sid…”

“Has never had it, no, not unless he bought it for his private collection, and since I got here, he likes to confer on
that. Says he welcomes my opinions.”

Can’t say that I blame him. “Well, you are the one that is the Master Sommelier. He ought to.”

“Actually though, this is one of the new arrivals on the menu. I suggested it to Tina not long ago and it was
among the last stock we got in. I hope you like it.”

“I…There’s no doubt that I will.”

“If you don’t mind…?” and it was for Adalia to pour a tiny portion into the recently placed sherry glass.

He swirled the glass, permitted the wide variation of aromas to enter his nostrils and then sighed. “You were
right about one thing: there is a lot here.”

“I told you.”

Now he finally took a taste and he knew, without the need for a mirror, that his features were in complete
ecstasy. “My God…” was all he could whisper.

“I’ll let you take all of that in while your dessert is being prepared.”

“Which will be…?”

Adalia playfully smiled and moved away, but instead of immediately returning to the kitchen as he expected,
Barrett was disappointed to observe her lingering in the dining room, greeting a few of the other guests and
finally walking over to his brothers’ table. He tried not to glare, attempting to return his full attention to the
sherry the chef had so carefully selected, but….

Why do I care? She’s only making them feel welcome, that’s all. She’s doing that with a lot of people….

“Well gentlemen…how were the steaks?” she inquired, standing between Wigand and Braddock.

Jim grinned, nodding over and over as he pointed at his plate, empty except for the few remnants of a baked
potato’s peel and the T-bone of the meat. “Jeffrey was right. That was good. He said I couldn’t go wrong with
this.”

“Good?” The former Louisvillian feigned annoyance. “Just good? Come on Jim, you can do better than that.
Give the little lady her due.”

“All right. That was great, Miss Rabinovich. Probably the best steak I ever had.”
“Well, that’s what a chef likes to hear. I’m glad you enjoyed it and Jim? I’m Adalia, not Miss Rabinovich, okay?
We’re on first name terms ‘round here.”

“Gotcha…Adalia. I know one thing. I don’t know if I’ve ever had the plate still sizzling when it got to you.
Waiter told us the steak was seared at…1800 degrees?”

“Sounds right. We do it that way so you do still have it sizzling when it arrives at the table. No playing around.
And Jeffrey, I’m guessing yours…?”

“Was perfect, as usual. Thanks. You’re going to have to tell me sometime who supplies your cuts.”

“Oh no…that’s our little secret,” she teased, winking and now looked over at Jack Corbett, who was wiping his
mouth before placing the linen napkin on the tabletop. “Jack – was yours okay, too…or just…good?”

Jack reddened slightly. “You know me: meat and potatoes…like Jim over here. But they’re both right: it was one
of the best steaks ever. Definitely one of the best, but I’ve always been partial to the Cowboy Ribeye…and…
uh…liked the au gratin spinach too; I’ve never had it prepared that way before…oh and the steak fries. I can’t
forget the steak fries.”

“I forgot to tell you how much I enjoyed mine too,” Jim added. “Nice we could split the vegetables; let us try all
of ‘em out, but if someone had suggested us splitting our potatoes…” He sighed at the memory of the one-pound
spud, stuffed with fresh made sour cream, real bacon bits and shredded English cheddar.

“Nobody was making me split my potato!” Jeffrey was chuckling deeply. “I would have been putting on the
gloves and heading to a ring for a couple of rounds.” He laughed harder on seeing Braddock’s mischievously
skeptical expression. “I would have! Adalia knows better than that too.”

“Hey…I wouldn’t have dared!” Adalia exclaimed, laughing along with them. “I know how much you guys love
your potatoes, but…I’m glad you all enjoyed the other sides. Gave you a chance to try a little of everything so
you know what you like and don’t like…for next time you know.”

The young Aussie nodded. “I think…I’m pretty sure there’ll be a next time. Thank you, Adalia.”

“You’re welcome – you’re all very welcome. I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Like I told them…” Wigand explained, cheerfully sitting back in his chair, “sometimes it’s nice to relax…let the
world go by…and savor an excellent meal.”

“Very true,” Adalia agreed. “You’d be surprised at how many don’t have that philosophy, but I think it’s very
important….So…?”

Wigand’s smile widened as if he knew what was coming next. “So…?”

“Do you gentlemen have enough room for dessert?” The inquiry was met with three faces as delighted as three
boys waking up to snow on a school day, and although they looked from one to another, their answer was going
to be quite obvious. “We don’t do dessert carts ‘cause I normally change the dishes every night or two, but we
can have tonight’s menu brought over if you think you’re ready.”

Jeffrey looked aghast. “Do we have room for dessert? Are you kidding? Do you think I’d let these two escape
from here without one? I didn’t bring them here just for the three-inch steaks.”

Adalia beamed. “I love a man with a good appetite!”

“Any specials?”

“Uh-huh…” and by now their server had returned to pass out the menus. “You’ll find our cheese course on there
too, along with some after-dinner drink suggestions.”

“Crikey,” Jack softly said, turning even redder on realizing it was something an Australian would be expected to
say.

“Jack…you took the words right out of my mouth,” Braddock declared, awed as well. “I don’t even know where
to start.”

The waitress carefully indicated the variety, relating each detail as the men looked over the written descriptions
and talked amongst themselves. As they did, Adalia gracefully moved around the small table, giving information
that perhaps was not mentioned on the menu or adding her own recommendations.

“Now you mentioned specials….What are they?” Jeffrey asked.

“Three tonight: the first is a caramelized apple spice cake with almond streusel, a cider sorbet, and apple
caramel.”

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Jim had raised his hand. “Isn’t…sorbet a kind of ice cream? Or a…sherbet?”

Adalia only smiled. “Yep…and we’ve made this with apple cider instead of the usual strawberry or peach or
pineapple.”

Braddock looked interested. “What’s the second?”

“Well…we call it a banana split, but it’s not like the ones you probably had as kids. Ours is a banana panna cotta
with walnut – not peanut – brittle, caramel powder, and then we add chocolate, strawberry and vanilla ice creams
that we home-make back in our kitchen.”

“And panna cotta is…?” Jack inquired.

“That’s Italian. You simmer cream, milk and sugar and mix it with a gelatin and then let it cool until it’s set; the
gelatin this time was made with bananas…naturally.”

“Oh man.” It was obvious that Jim was even more fascinated by that.

“What about the third?” Wigand asked.

“Bread pudding spiked with twenty-year-old Old Rip Van Winkle©.”

Wigand sighed as though he was already in Heaven, and looking first at Corbett and then Jim he said, “This is a
woman after my own heart! Where have you been all my life?”

“I…An Old Rip…?” Braddock started to ask but Jeffrey was explaining before the question was barely out of his
brother’s mouth.

“That is one of the finest bourbons to come out of Kentucky. I have never, never had the twenty-year-old.
Bought a bottle of the ten…but….Young lady…we have a deal.”

Adalia laughed. “What about the rest of you guys?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jim said in agreement. “Was wondering though…if it’s not a lot of trouble…” He
hesitated, hoping he was not being too greedy.

“What?” Adalia urged.

“Could I get…I just wanted to try that banana split of yours. Could I…?”

“I’ll have them bring you some, sure.” She bowed her head towards the waitress, who was already competently
jotting down the orders.

“Well, if we’re ordering extras…” Wigand piped up, “there’s no way I’m passing on this ice cream.” The idea of
pistachio, Earl Gray and chocolate with Kentucky bourbon, each in a small, individual dish, was too tempting.

“You won’t be sorry.” She shifted so that now she was between Braddock and Jack while Wigand continued.

But Wigand was not done. “And I have to ask you one thing before you leave.”

“What’s that?”

“What the heck was that wine Kim was drooling over a few minutes ago?”

“The sherry?”

“I guess, yes. The last bottle the Sommelier brought him.”

“That was the sherry then. NPU Amontillado Romate Special Reserve from Sanchez Romate Hermanos S.A.
house. They usually specialize in a nice range too, from young four-year-olds all the way up to their thirty-year-
old amontillados. This one though has a little of the old and the new and actually, when I first tasted it…there are
so many flavors there. That’s what makes it so…complex…and I saw people bypassing dessert just to enjoy it.
Said it was actually better than some desserts.”

“I’m not skipping dessert,” Jeffrey told her, “but I’d love to try some. Just seeing Kim sitting over there so smug
and…” He shook his head and laughed. “I’d love to try some.”

“I’ll have the Sommelier bring you a glass. How about the rest of you?”

“No thanks….Sounds a bit too…complex,” Jim joked. “I’ll take coffee though.”

“Jeffrey – coffee too?”

“Oh yeah, thanks. Thank you.”

Adalia’s attention now focused upon Jack Corbett, who was still analyzing the choices with the care of a legal
brief. “Jack? Sherry? Coffee? Made up your mind about dessert yet?”

The younger man placed the menu on the table. “No sherry for me, thank you, but I think Jeffrey’s tempted me
about the bread pudding…”

“Great.”

“…and…I would love to try that…that caramelized apple cake and whatever came with it too, if that’s all right.”
“Of course it is.”

****

It’s not that I mind ordering off the dessert menu….Lord knows that Adalia has designed an absolutely wonderful
one, and nearly every night it varies, but there is still something satisfying about knowing one’s dessert is not
what everyone else is having….

I swear…the only place Jim looks at home is either in the ring or…Oh don’t be mean. He couldn’t help taking
his family to the ghetto. It was the times. Wait! Was that called a ghetto? Or a slum? Doesn’t have anything to do
with race: Warsaw Ghetto; New York slums; ghettos in Los Angeles….How the hell did I get off on…?

Why’s Jeffrey looking so…? What did he…? Old Rip Van Winkle©? I have to remember that one. There is no
way in Hell I’d let any of my brothers get away with trying something that…So right… the bread pudding
sounds…I can try bread pudding anytime….Has she ever had that banana….Oh doesn’t that sound….I wonder
what Adalia does have planned for me though….And why is she persisting in staying so long with….It’s all right.
I’m not in a hurry….I’m sitting here, enjoying this magnificent….

But I only thought she was going to stop to see how their meal was and…How long has she been…?

Why did Jeffrey look over here and laugh? What did he just say to her? I know it’s about me. He looked over
here and laughed and he was glaring right at me, and I do not appreciate that. Sid and I definitely agree on that.
Don’t hate me because…

I never realized just how big Jim’s ears are….Oh my God! Do mine look…? No! No of course they don’t! The
Creator did something with his ears to…

I’ve got to work on my lip reading….I can barely comprehend anything they’re….

And the mental discourse ceased.

The base of the wine glass was thoughtlessly fumbled to the table as the world – his world – froze about him,
and he blinked once, twice, sensing that each of his movements had slowed into a macabre pantomime. What
was it they (whoever they were) said…when one’s life was at an end, when one’s life was threatened, everything
decelerated to an unrealistic measure, until even the motion of a bird’s wings could be heard with vivid clarity.

Words were not necessary just then. Kim caught it the second it happened, and knew that those involved had
never realized what they had done. But considering his attention was solely upon her….

Quite naturally, Adalia’s small hands had rested near the table’s edge…

Quite naturally, Jack Corbett’s left hand had relaxed as he likely was making up his mind…

And his left and her right had touched, the fingers briefly stroking, entwining then parting…

It was completely inadvertent….

Kim witnessed it all!

And everything exploded around him.

I have to get out of here.

“I have to get out of here,” he muttered, noticing that Adalia was coming back in his direction as she finally
decided to return to the kitchen. Tossing aside the napkin in his lap and not caring where it landed, he was on his
feet and nearly stumbling in place as the samples of alcohol struck him at once.

“Kim?” Adalia stopped, concerned. “You okay?”

“I…” His handkerchief removed, he dabbed at the sweat on his forehead. “I’m…I’m sorry…”

“What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

Am I all right? She asks me if I’m all right. “I…guess…I think…I imbibed a bit more than I realized.” He
chuckled, but to his own ears it was empty. I have got to get out of here. “And here you were…treating me to
such…treating me to such…” Did his voice sound choked? On the verge of hysterical emotion? Do not give her
the satisfaction of… “I’m sorry.” His breathing was quickening; the unseen knots around his head growing tauter
and tauter….

“No….No…don’t apologize. It’s fine…but…look…why don’t you have a seat again….I’ll have your waiter
bring you some more water and…”

“No…I’ll be all right.” Why is it so hot? Damn…the floor’s moving. The fucking floor is moving! “I think
though…some air and…a walk back to…I’ll be fine,” he managed, weakly smiling. Acting as though she’s so
concerned…. “I…really…overdid it,” Barrett laughed, ‘listening’ as his heart once more teetered and collapsed.
“I really…should call it a night.”

“Oh…It’s…It’s my fault. Too much…”

“No…” and he grasped for one hand, the one his brother had inconspicuously but lovingly touched. “No…It was
all…perfect. It was….It was a perfect evening, but I think the thirty-year-old sherry put me…” He laughed
again. Laugh clown laugh…. “You…You don’t know what all this meant to me, Adalia.”

“It was my pleasure, you know that.”

Do I?

She suddenly remembered…. “Oh! You were going to tell me…You didn’t get a chance to tell me…”

“Oh…yes. I had wanted to meet you after….It can wait.”

“You’re sure? I could walk outside with you and…”

“No….You get back to your kitchen and…It can wait,” he assured her. I have to get out of here….She’s too
perceptive. Look at her. She knows something’s wrong. She knows….She’s trying to read my mind… “Thank you
again…for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Promise you’ll be back soon.”

“I promise….Good night.”

“Night Kim.”

He did not acknowledge his siblings on his way out.

***
Red-orange flames served as the living room’s sole illumination; bright, thick, arcing flames, consuming and
blackening the logs with a destructive concentration that threatened to tear the entire fireplace apart. This light
was enough. This light was all he desired. He needed the semi-darkness in order to hide as much as he dared. For
the longest time he sat before the fire, glass in hand – one vodka, two vodkas, three vodkas…until the liquor no
longer tasted of any flavor and the only effect was to dull his senses so that his one desire – to feel numb – was
finally reached.

To think he had come so close…

The sound system began a repeat of the track. What was this: the tenth time or the hundredth time the song had
engulfed the room until all thoughts of the evening were nearly dream-like. It had been an out-of-body
experience; he was merely an observer trying to warn that poor boy that his heart and his life were about to be
ripped to worthless shreds.

“To think I came this close to telling her….” Kim slurred.

Recitar! Mentre preso dal delirio,

non so più quel che dico,
e quel che faccio!
Eppur è d'uopo, sforzati!
Bah! sei tu forse un uom?

To act! While out of my mind,

I no longer know what I say,
or what I do!
And yet it's necessary... make an effort!
Bah! Are you not a man?

“Am I not a man?” he muttered, paraphrasing the line into English. “Not when…Not when I…I’ve…been…
royally…fucked.”

How long had those two been lovers? How long had Corbett and that woman been involved? Obviously long
enough that there was such electricity present that they could not help but touch, even when nothing was
intended. And forcing him to maintain a façade that would get him out of the restaurant and away from
everyone…away from her… imagining her slinking into the kitchen where she would have a good laugh at the
man she privately mocked and scorned.

“And played….The bitch played me….The bitch played me!””

Tu se’ Pagliaccio!

You are Pagliaccio!

No, not his new name, but his role in this satire. Kim Barrett – Pagliaccio, meaning ‘You’re a Clown’, a
brainless, foolish clown who nearly cried on seeing those fingers touch, who nearly wept hot tears as he made an
elegant, unruffled exit, his pride intact.

Vesti la giubba,
e la faccia infarina.
La gente paga, e rider vuole qua.
Put on your costume,
powder your face.
The people pay to be here, and they want to laugh.

He wondered how long his bastard brother and the bitch had laughed at his expense. He wondered how many
were aware of this sordid affair, and he permitted the last months since her arrival to be sorted out one by one:
the conversations, what others would say in some pretence of innocence. Of course, he was the last to know.
Everyone knew but him. The husband, the wife, the girlfriend…the boyfriend – they were always the last to
know.

E se Arlecchin t'invola Colombina,

ridi, Pagliaccio, e ognun applaudirà!

And if Harlequin shall steal your Columbine,

laugh, Pagliaccio, so the crowd will cheer!

Kim figured they were doing that right now; likely she had realized why he wished to speak to her and now…
now…

The couple would be at her cottage now, her private Sodom, ripping at one another’s clothing before they were
barely in the door; vulgar…sweating…their stinking naked forms rolling on her floor until she was on top and in
full control….Jack’s pathetic hands groping her breasts and finding himself overpowered by the Jezebel…and
wanting to be….Her nails clawing into his pale flesh and drinking the blood from his wounds….Jack slapping
her, hard, and she only wickedly giggling and smacking him back. The act only intensified their lusts….
Groaning, grunting, their few spoken words nothing but sexual slang….The thrusting…all that thrusting was
giving Kim a headache as he felt every single thrust inside his own body, and he dropped the glass, panting, his
fingertips massaging at his temples.

He was out of his own body again and witnessing the entire event first-hand as the whore and her lover came
and were spent like the filth that they were, then lapping at one another’s juices like shameless creatures worst
than animals…

Tramuta in lazzi lo spasmo ed il pianto

in una smorfia il singhiozzo e ‘l dolor, Ah!

Turn your distress and tears into jest,

your pain and sobbing into a funny face – Ah!

The pair looked directly at him; their smiles dissolving into more laugher, more taunts, and Kim realized that he
was not the only one present. Others were there, people he knew, and they had been enjoying the performance
and watching his reactions, reveling in the idea that he was hurting

“All I ever wanted to do was to love you,” his eyes burning with tears of regret and now anger. “And I would
have told you tonight….I would have told you tonight, but you fucked up. You two…you couldn’t control
yourselves, could you? My…my fucking, ‘noble’ brother and our head chef…our fucking head chef …That
fucking cunt,” he spat as Pavarotti cried out the most famous words of the aria.

Ridi, Pagliaccio,
sul tuo amore infranto!
Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!
Laugh, Pagliaccio,
at your broken love!
Laugh at the grief that poisons your heart!

Broken love Kim thought and he remembered what seemed a lifetime ago, when he was preparing to tell the
woman what she meant to him, and foolishly believed she felt towards him.

Then your fingers touched

My silent heart and taught it how to sing…

No…no love was anything but that. Love was painful. Love was ugly. Love was nothing but an emotion with
which to get what one desired and to hurt another in the process. Love was that poison he had tried so long to
avoid, but had tempted him, drawn him into the embrace of a witch, a teasing, playful witch who led him along
while pretending at innocence…virginity.

Or that’s what I assumed. I wasn’t sure. I was never sure. She was nice to me with all her sweetness and kindness
and pretense at being interested in what I had to say, and all along she’s been going back to Corbett so they
could have a laugh on me! At my fucking expense! But not anymore! You’re not going to laugh at me any more.

But what if this was not her fault? What if she had cared for him and Corbett had stolen her? They all knew that
Kim had paid her attention since her arrival. Even Sid had kept his distance ‘out of the great admiration I have
for a brother so like myself.’

And without anyone’s knowledge, along came Corbett – someone who was with so few women since his arrival
that Kim often wondered if he wasn’t a poof. So perhaps Adalia was not the guilty party but had been seduced by
a man who was obviously quite smooth, quite deceptive with that moral public image. The man was an attorney
after all – a college-educated deceiver who possibly caught her alone one night after work, talked to her, was
nice to her, played the Serpent to her Eve….
…that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.’
And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes…she took of the
fruit thereof, and did eat… Momentarily, he fantasized of his brother taking full advantage of her innocence until
she believed every word he said….He always suspected that Jack Corbett was a conniver, a sneak….

It might not be her fault. She might be….

But the aria was beginning again, the words washing over Kim, the anger erupting once more in his gut, the hurt
causing the tears to flow harder.

No…I’m fooling myself. She knows what she’s doing. They both know. Jack’s a mother fucking bastard and she’s
a rotten cunt…and I’m going to make them both pay. I’m going to make them both pay for what they’ve done to
me.

Academy Award winning song by Sammy Fain and Paul Francis Webster.
Music and lyrics by Rod Stewart
The famous structure in Granada, built during the Muslim occupation of Spain. More information can be found at
http://www.mcah.columbia.edu/alhambra/flash/start.html and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhambra.
The aria Vesti La Giubba (Put on the costume) is from the opera Pagliacci by Ruggiero Leoncavallo. Words in Italian and
the English translation taken from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vesti_la_giubba
Genesis 3:5-6 (King James Version)
Love Is A-Many Splendoured Thing
Part Nine
Rated R: Contains adult language and situations.
NOTE: I wish to thank Sharon for the contribution of the scene between Cort and
Chloe.

Friday, 17th November 2006

Early Morning

Coffee…I think I’d sell my soul for some coffee….Almost….

One bloodshot eye peeped from under the covers, squinted, and then blinked
hard as the thin stream of what was likely the first indications of sunlight
managed to find a way through a slight parting in the shades.

Fucking sun…

Kim groaned, his eyes shutting tightly as he ran a hand over his face, desiring to
wash away not only the headache but what little he could recall of the night
before. He vaguely recalled…what? The lurkers who had come up early for the
weekend…the one that caught his eye…the one he desired to help him in pushing
aside the hurt that plagued him, although she would not realize it…the
seduction…dinner in the semi-formal restaurant, her companions now living
through her and wondering why they could not have been so lucky…And finally,
the pretty little black haired thing ridden so hard that they both eventually
collapsed from exhaustion, the liquor finally hitting them after several hours of
indulgence.

Collapsed….Was she still…?

Almost afraid to do so, Kim rolled slightly from his left side and turned in order to
examine the spot beside him…and there she was, sheet and blanket tossed aside,
her completely nude figure quite still, the breast tips pointed upward as her
bosom rose and fell in a steady rhythm, punctuated occasionally by a slight snore
that caused the Aussie to make a face.

“Shit…you’re still here?” he muttered, falling onto his back. Why the fuck are you
still here…whatever your name is….And where the hell did you come…Oh right…
Hawaii; you’re from Hawaii….Well…now is the time to send your tanned little
ass…Mmm…that was some nice ass wasn’t it? But time for you to go home…or
back to your room. Just out…of…here. Why he had ever believed that this young
woman could possibly ease the hurt he still suffered…

You’re not her….Why did I ever believe you could replace her, even for one night?
He pounded one fist against his forehead, attempting yet again to shove the
memory of those touching hands…those hands – as though magnetized – drawn
towards the other without intending, and in that second revealing everything to
those that noticed. And the only one that noticed was me, he inwardly mourned.
Since the revelation, it remained a secret that only he shared with the unaware
couple, a confidence that wrenched at his heart and gut with each waking second.
A confidence he attempted to submerge in a few willing sexual liaisons and as
much alcohol as he could stomach before he drifted into unconsciousness, only to
awake hours later with a pulsating headache and the realization that he had –
once again – dreamt of her.

You’re not her…He struck his head with such force that he was afraid of having
made his hangover worst. I need coffee. What the fuck time is it? And why are
you still here?

“Kim…” came a slur.

It awakes…finally. Now how to get out of this gracefully and without hurting her
feelings? ‘Oh you were so wonderful…Oh you were the best I’ve ever had in all
my time here…Did anyone tell you that you fuck like a dream?’ No wait…that’s
not right….

“Kim…” the voice again managed.

What’s her name? What’s her name? What’s her name? For God’s sake don’t call
her Adalia. She’s not Adalia….He felt his throat tighten at the sound of that name
now bandied about in his thoughts. “Morning…” he finally said, forcing a smile as
he rolled over to greet her. “How are you, luv?”

Her toothy grin was prefaced by the opening of her brownish black eyes as they
blinked several times, then appeared to radiate at the sight of discovering him
beside her.

“Mmm…morning….I’m fine…I…think…” she giggled, a blush permeating her

perfect tan. “I could do with some coffee. How about you, huh? Do they have
room service ‘round here?” She reached out with one small hand, her fingers
wiggling as though expecting to be caressed…touched…

The way Jack and Adalia’s had…without knowing….

Hers was the typical reaction of a typical infatuated girl, Kim considered, and he
hoped the disgust in his mind was not revealed on his face. But no, she was
smiling cheerfully, giving him the opportunity to playact the good-hearted lover…
and yet he would not return what she desired…could not…

If coffee is what it will take for me to get you out of here…. “I make a pretty
decent pot of coffee, if I do say so myself. Why call room service when I can make
it here?” and then send you on your happy fucking way.

****

Arthur Baskin loved these times of the morning, those moments when the Point
appeared to be awakening, but remained temporarily caught in that calm
transition between the darkness and the sunrise He could stand in that one spot
in the entrance, take a deep breath and it was as though he inhaled everything
that was fresh and newborn about the coming day, briefly sweeping aside all his
scheduling, giving his life a spontaneity that was nearly contagious. Silly that after
all these years he had the same feeling each time he awoke, but it was engrained
in him now – even more than in his life back in his movie world, to be appreciative
for yet another moment. As was his habit, he spent some time in prayer and
contemplation before he cleaned up and headed to his scheduled destination to
begin the day.

From the top stair outside the front doorway, he could see so much of the Point’s
vista and as always, found himself amazed at how magnificent it was. Autumn
seemed to have finally arrived. He watched the mists as it lingered over the
property within his view, sweeping over and through the acres of vineyards off in
the valleys and hills; smiled at the tops of trees and the church’s steeple barely
visible through the fog.

It was the beginning of a good day, he optimistically told himself, smiling as he

placed one hand above his brows so he might better focus on the silver
convertible that whirled into one of the closer assigned spots in the Hotel’s
parking lot.

Boss is here…and right on time too….

***

“Good friggin’ grief…” Tina Biebe muttered as she leaned over to the front
passenger floorboard to retrieve the amethyst colored purse that had slid from
the seat. She was sometimes tempted to secure it with a seat belt! Her husband
would jokingly accuse her high-speed driving of causing the bag to constantly
propel to that familiar location. Tina, however, would simply roll her eyes, make
some sweetly sarcastic comment, and then admit that she was not the only one
that often had the proverbial lead foot when it came to maneuvering around the
Point. John's eyes would twinkle -- he had no idea what she was talking about, he
might joke, although he was known to do some pretty fast driving too. So if that
didn’t deter his kidding about, she would ‘threaten’ to strap him into a car with
either Terry or Savannah!

Despite the tiny mishap with the purse, the morning had started off well, and as
she hit the button to raise the convertible’s roof and then secure it into place, it
gave her one final moment to herself before she had to face reality again. She just
wanted to take a second…a sentimental second to remember leaning over John’s
sleeping figure as she kissed his temple to bid him good morning and good-bye…a
gentle stroking of his bearded cheek…the scent of his hair….Then she was
climbed out of the car and closed the door behind her.

“Morning love!” a male voice shouted and she spun about, giggling, nearly
dropping the misbehaving case as she eased the strap onto one shoulder. She
was only mildly surprised to see Jeff Mitchell jogging from the main road and down
towards her, three unidentified bodies keeping pace directly behind him.

“Jeff! Morning!” she called back as the men approached and she was now able to
see that his companions were Jim Braddock, Jack Corbett and Lachlan Curry. “Hey
guys! Morning!”

“Morning Tina,” Braddock greeted, continuing to jog in place.

“G’day love,” Curry grinned.

“Good morning, Tina,” Jack added.

“Early morning, eh?” Mitchell continued.

“Yep…” she answered, nodding. “Finishing up the interviews today.”

“Interviews? Oh right – for our new handyman,” Lachlan said.

Tina nodded again, pushing back her red hair as a breeze tossed it over her face.
“Well, I said finishing up, but actually, this is going to be it.”

“So we’ll have the news soon then? Who you’re going to decide on?” Lachlan
asked, expressing what the others were also feeling: excitement for the arrival of
a new resident.

“I should be letting everyone know tomorrow, but of course knowing how word
spreads around this place…”

“We’ll all know who he is before you can send out an email with the
announcement, right?” Jeff laughed.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Yeah…that sounds about right.”

“Hell…we’ll know who it is before the new handyman knows he’s won,” Lachlan
joked.

“Well anyway…” Tina continued, “I have the three finalists – oh Lord…didn’t that
sound way too American Idol?” Especially since she was likely one of the few
people on Earth that didn’t watch the program out of choice! “And I hate that
show. Anyway…I have the final three coming back this morning. This will be their
last opportunity to impress me with what they can offer us…and I’m going to pick
from them.”

Jeff’s smiled broadened. “Bonzer….Well, we’re not going to keep you. We just saw
you as you arrived…”

Braddock laughed. “And he insisted that we come down and say hello.”

“I was wondering why you came down off the road…”

“Go ahead and tell her, Mitchell. Don’t be shy,” Lachlan teased.

Tina looked puzzled as she glanced from one to another. “What?”

Jeff groaned and in a low voice admitted, “I said that you looked bonzer this
morning and John was a fortunate mate….But they all agreed. They’re not putting
this off on only me.”

“Yeah…” Jim began hesitantly; still uncertain about flattering these modern
women, as he had been told – half-jokingly and half-seriously – that some
considered such comments as demeaning. Although how a woman being told that
she was looking pretty could be so misconstrued….Both he and the other World
War II era brothers, along with Jack Aubrey and Cort would occasionally discuss
the problems of living in these confusing days. “He’s right. You do look very nice
today, Tina. Very…” Very…what? What might he say that would be kind but not
insulting to her?

“Professional?” Lachlan suggested.

“Professional? That’s a little formal don’t you think, Curry?” Jeff countered.

“No! I was thinking…like a lovely Southern lady,” Jim finished, pleased to see that
his sister-in-law was blushing.

“Here – here,” Corbett agreed.

“Well, thank you all,” she softly replied, realizing that even after all this time
amongst them, she was still somewhat uncomfortable with those sort of
compliments. But she managed to smile, even as her cheeks burned with such
intensity that she nearly felt on fire. “Thank you all very much.”

“Now…if you’ll excuse us…” Corbett said as though vocally prodding the men to
return to what they were doing.

“He’s right. We’re losing pace,” Mitchell told her. “Sure you won’t join us, Tina?”

Tina nearly snorted as she laughed, covering her mouth as she did. “You’re
kidding right? In these?” she teased, raising one foot so that they could see the
nearly three inch heels on the dark blue pumps. “Maybe some other time, okay?”
“I think she says the same thing when John wants to take her camping!” Lachlan
roared, and now he began to trot away from the others, glancing back over his
shoulder to call out, “Morning Tina and good luck!”

“Thanks Lach.”

“Hey!” Braddock called, close behind but taking a second to say “Have a good
one, Tina. Hey wait up!” he continued to holler as he also rushed off, chuckling
when Lachlan playfully said, “Well, come on old man!” Within moments the former
heavyweight champion was up the incline and nearly at the pilot’s side.

“Morning Tina,” Jack told her, smiling warmly as he nudged Jeff’s arm with his fist.
“Come on, you loser.”

“Loser?! You…G’day Tina….See you later,” and with that final word, Mitchell
hurried behind the lieutenant, giving her a wave as he did.

“And good morning to you, Tina,” Arthur greeted, watching her approach from his
spot in the Hotel doorway. She looked very businesslike in a blue and white
shirtdress that was quite flattering to her figure, and he was reminded of the often
shy crime scene technician who arrived at the Point several years before. It had
been an amazing transformation, another symbol of what this universe could do
to an individual.

“Good morning, Arthur. How are you today?” she asked, ascending the three stone
steps.

“Very well thank you. Had a good night’s sleep…”

“Good…” she told him as she stood at his side.

“…and I am ready for whatever the day may hold.”

“I know that feeling,” Tina admitted as she walked through the main entrance and
into the still quiet foyer, the only sound that of a vacuum as it hummed about the
plush carpet in the reception area. Bowing her head to greet the housekeeping
crew within her view, she said, “I feel like we’ve been going through this process
for months.”

“Well, I realize this is minor, but the kitchen just delivered breakfast.”

“Did they?” she asked, smiling, as she made her way around the front desk.
“That’s not minor, Arthur. That’s…That’s the old music to my ears.”

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t have time to have any at home. You said something
yesterday about stopping by Scents, Swords and More before you came into the
office.”
“Right…I did,” she recalled, again marveling at how well the young accountant
could keep track of seemingly every working of the Point. “Needed to touch base
with Kath and Savannah; they wanted me to see the final draft for the website
ideas before we move full-speed ahead. I think we may actually have it all running
before next weekend.”

And in time for what was considered in America – that Friday after Thanksgiving –
the official beginning of the Christmas shopping season! Having Scents, Swords
and More online would be yet another major move for their world, Arthur
approvingly contemplated. “Oh splendid. Well, I had an idea you’d be rushed and
not even John would have time to get something fixed for you, so…”

Tina continued to walk, briefly glancing back at Arthur – who walked close behind
her, clipboard in hand – to give him a grateful look. “You don’t know how much I
appreciate that, Arthur. Just came, huh?”

“Just as you were pulled into the car park. They told me they were putting it
inside. As usual, Adalia timed it impeccably.”

“Bless her timing…and I’m dying for some coffee,” she declared, opening the oak
door to the room that had been her office for the past several years.

“I thought you might be….The late afternoon mail from after you left yesterday is
on your desk; I’ve turned on your desktop – it only needs the password – and I
reorganized the résumés so you’d have them handy for a final perusal.”

“When did you take up mind reading?” she softly asked, putting the handbag on
the floor near her as she took her seat behind the cherry wood desk, her fingers
swiftly typing out a series of letters and numbers so that the computer came to
life with John’s voice uttering the movie line ‘What do you want this time?’

“Mind…?” The Welsh-Aussie seemed almost confused, but then bashfully

chuckled. “I suppose…I suppose I’m just good at what I do.”

“I’m glad you are. I couldn’t run this place without you and Andy’s help. Chelle
knew that too you know.”

“Well…always nice to feel loved. I don’t know what…” He paused, wondering if he

should say what had come to mind as his thoughts returned to a few months
before, when the lives of all those at the Point had grown chaotic and the sense of
catastrophe had briefly hung over them during that long September weekend
after Tina’s surgery. For a time, he – like everyone else – had wondered whether
anything would be the same, especially when a procedure they had all believed
quite simple had seemed to go very wrong. But here she was now: content,
healthy from what little he knew, and Tina’s biggest problem of the moment –
deciding on a handyman!
“Well…there’s coffee…” Arthur continued, deciding to return to the matter of
breakfast. “Shall I pour you a cup? It’s French pressed today.” He knew without
asking how she liked hers: cream, no sugar.

“Thanks,” Tina replied, fiddling with the mouse as she sorted through her email.
“Exactly what I need to get me going.” She suddenly peeped from around the flat
screen monitor. “Oh! Have you eaten? I hope you ordered something for…”

“I did. I was hoping you didn’t mind if I…”

“Arthur, of course I don’t mind! We’ve had breakfast together before. It’ll give us a
chance to go over some things while we eat.”

“Well…I ordered…” and he spoke as he began to remove the lids and covers to
the numerous dishes. “…a small basket of muffins, bagels and what you
Americans call biscuits.”

“You’re not going to stand there and tell me that you don’t like those biscuits, are
you?” she teased. “Adalia makes them like my grandmother used to….I still can’t
get homemade biscuits right, even after all these years.”

“I love ‘em,” Arthur confessed. “I only have to be careful and watch how many I
eat, especially if she sent….She sent some of her homemade raspberry jam.”

“Of course, she did. What else did you get us?”

He approached the front of the desk, handing her the cup and saucer. “I asked
them to take a lighter approach to an English breakfast…if you don’t mind…”

“Nope.”

Arthur smiled, glad that she was pleased with his decision. “So scrambled eggs:
regular ones and scrambled whites; broiled tomatoes; grilled mushrooms; baked
beans; grilled Cumberland sausages; broiled bacon…”

“Mmm…sounds great,” she sighed, savoring both the enticing jolt of the medium-
roasted coffee as well as the menu selection. “I’m starving. I didn’t eat much last
night. John says it’s my nerves.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. And she sent something called…red…eye…gravy….That’s

what the waiter called it. Should I know that? I keep thinking I’ve seen it before.”

Tina casually shrugged. “Depends…Depends on how often you enjoy Kentucky

country ham; she probably made it from the drippings…added a little strong
coffee to it to give it that kick…It’ll go good with those biscuits of hers. Trust me.”
She took another sip and briefly closed her eyes, permitting the merging of the
light and the medium Panamanian roasts to flow down her throat. “Arthur…I can’t
thank you enough for this,” she told him as he prepared her plate. “You are a life
saver….”

*****
His natural self-assurance had been – from his earliest memory – a life saver, no
matter the situation and as Kim toweled off after a long, brutally chilly shower,
one that had fully awakened his intellect and emotions, he was as grateful for it
now as he had ever been.

The careful words, each one thought through and considered prior to leaving his
lips; each one seductive, winning, convincing....Again his poise served him well as
he plied his young bedmate with coffee and small talk, even managed to charm
her upon finding some bagels in the refrigerator, so that his little presentation of
baked goods accompanied by jam and cream cheese must have seemed to her
the sweetest sentiment in the world. That was why Kim was delighted when –
without argument – she bid him good-bye, thanked him for the wonderful evening,
and then carefully eased out of his apartment while the Tavern’s activities
remained unhurried. No one saw her. Kim preferred it that way: no brothers, no
staff, no regulars to spread rumors, and while he knew she would excitedly talk to
her girlfriends about all she experienced; it was only that…talk, lurker talk. If she
happened to overhear…

If she does, she will simply think it’s very typical of me, fucking the most willing
ass and tits I can find because she has heard nothing of me but rumors. Forget
that I’ve tried to let her see the real me. Forget my openness, my desire to have
her see my good side. She’s talked to me, laughed with me – and it won’t matter.
She’ll just believe the worst; the way they all do….But I won’t let her hurt me any
more. I won’t let Jack hurt me either….I will be…impervious….

He paused before the full-length bathroom mirror, giving himself a moment to

glare at the figure which studied him with a similar intensity. What was there not
to like? What was there to disdain? Why would she joke with him, laugh with him,
plan those lovely dinners for him and him alone, flash her seductive smiles and
lure him with words seemingly dripping with innocence so that he believed her
nearly angelic. For what?

So she can laugh behind my back. That’s her game – I know it is.

He glanced down at his manhood, now flaccid – and fatigued – between his legs
and sighing turned away, running a hand over his face as he did, trying to recall
all that had passed during the night, when all he considered was his own
satisfaction…and what that girl felt was her own mistaken belief that he desired
her as well.

She could never know that each time he kissed her hard on the mouth, it was
Adalia he saw, a wide-eyed, trembling Adalia who attempted to run but each time
was pulled back as roughly as he could manage.

It was Adalia and not his one night companion who would be thrown against the
nearest wall, her pleas to be allowed to leave ignored as he gripped her arms, his
fingertips burning into her skin as he pushed her back into whatever surface he
could find. She would beg….He would demand her to ‘shut the fuck up’ and shove
his tongue down her throat to silence her….She would squirm and struggle, and
his reply would be to ram a knee into her to hold her body in place as his hands
slowly and angrily ripped aside her blouse and her skirt, fumbling with the satin of
the brassiere as it refused to give way, until finally he growled almost drunkenly,
tearing at it so ferociously that it was cutting into her flesh and causing her to cry
even more….

Her breasts now revealed, Kim licked at them, bit at them, still held onto her as
she continued to fight, until at last, her beautiful features were crushed into the
wallpaper, her back turned to him…and he entered her with such brutality that
she must have felt her innards were being torn to shreds….Each thrust nearly
lifted her off the floor…Each thrust made her shriek in terror…Each thrust caused
the blood to trickle down her legs and onto the floor as she grew limper and
limper when he finally came again and again and again…majestic, powerful, the
master of her body and her life.

This would be her punishment for spurning him. No, he did not treat his little
Hawaiian as he imagined he would treat Adalia, but the intensity of their own
lovemaking set his imagination alight with everything he wanted his true love to
suffer…and for a few moments, he would grin as he considered it all…

Doggy style…In her arse…Tie her up – tie her down…Spank her hard to show her
what a naughty little sheila she’s been….It’s always those shy ones that like that
sort of sex…Always figured she had a rougher side to her anyway. She didn’t get
where she is without being firm with people….Yes…she might enjoy it a little
rough….A tongue ran over his lips; a peculiar grin pulled at one corner of his
mouth, nearly transforming the attractive face. She was naked…bound with
leather restraints…gagged…screeching, moaning each time the lash bruised her
back, until he was very aware that this was what she desired of him: the pain…
the exquisite throbbing of her flesh and her inner regions…

What the hell is wrong with me?

The question brought the musings to a halt, his eyes shutting tightly as though to
exorcise every consideration that had crossed his mind in those last moments.
How could he dare to hurt something…someone that had – until a few days before
– been so precious to him? There were times when he could be violent; how often
had he decided to use his fists over his brains if he felt it necessary to make a
stronger point, but never – in all his existence at the Point – had he hurt a woman,
not as revenge, not even sexually, and yet here he was, imagining things worthy
of DeSade or Commodus…

Or SID.

And Lord knew he was not SID.

He was not even SID Light.

There was no way on Earth he could be. He was not some machine, some
replicant, some creature built in a laboratory with an intelligence manufactured
upon the brains and souls of the wicked. He was and had always been a human
male with wavering emotions and desires, which made him different from no
other man.

And despite her betrayal, Kim knew one thing above all – he still loved her, and
that was still more precious to him than anything….

******

It was too simple to forget, in the busyness of life, how precious it all was, whether
the beauty of the Point, or waking up and finding one’s self alive for another day
(a basic cliché, but quite true when considered); or wondering again what power
had brought him here and sustained him. In several more years, he would have
been in this world almost two decades, and yet his attempts to search for some
deeper meaning remained out of reach; made him feel as naïve as he had been
upon his arrival.

But then again, why worry about such philosophies when there was one thing very
important that was touchable and real.

And Jack Corbett – without realizing it – was smiling softly as he recalled the text
message he had found on his mobile phone upon awaking that morning. He was
still getting used to having one, and would not even have bothered locating it on
his desktop had he not heard the occasional beep indicating he had either missed
a call or had a message. In this case, it was the latter, and squinting slightly in the
bedroom’s darkness as his hands fumbled about, his mind still attempting to
awaken, he eventually caught sight of the tiny glowing screen and the words in
bold lettering: Message From 101010030. He instantly knew the sender’s
identity.

Good morning. 7 days if we count 2day. 7 days until T-day. 7 days until we tell all.
Missing U. Have a good run. As he put the mobile back down, he could nearly
imagine her kissing his cheek as she might have during their Sabbath together.

Seven more days and on that fateful T-day – Thanksgiving – they would make the
announcement to all of their friends….

“So what’s with the Cheshire Cat grin?”

Jack was in his own zone as he jogged, thinking only of his surroundings and of
Adalia’s message, almost believing himself alone, so he jumped slightly upon
realizing that Lachlan was now at his side as they began the push at a steeper
incline in the road At any other time, it would have been difficult for his brother to
have sneaked up on him that way, but he was distracted, exceedingly so. “Ay?”
Corbett’s response revealed honest surprise at the inquiry.

Lachlan chuckled. “Mate I know you. You’re sprouting one of those smiles.”

“One of those…” He was still hopelessly perplexed by the kidding around.

“The ‘smile on your face that no one understands but you’. That sort of smile.”

“Oh….Oh really?” He nearly cursed himself for sounding as befuddled as he

probably looked right now. All this time, he and Adalia had been so careful about
matters, but he wondered if part of his reason for temporarily losing the façade
was for the simple fact that he was tired of it.

“Don’t muck around, Jack. You’ve been keeping quiet about something, haven’t
you?”

Corbett rolled his eyes at the remark, but then realized he was beginning to jog
even faster, finding a new stride with each new step. “Why…Why…do you think…
I’m keeping quiet…about anything?” His breathing was becoming slightly labored,
although the pace was not a bother to him. At least his legs did not feel elastic. He
was only sorry to glance back and see that both Braddock and Mitchell were
looking surprised that the casual morning jog had become an unexpected
marathon, and the two kicked into the next gear in order to keep up.

“I know you, Jack – don’t forget that….We’re mates from the same…same time,
you know.”

Jack only gave a slight smile, although Lachlan was right; with them coming from
a specific era, there were often things they could not help but share and
understand. Alex, Bud, Jim…they could all relate when it came to some things, but
there were just some situations when having a time frame in common wasn't
crucial. “You can’t know…can’t know everything about me, Lach…even after…
even after all these years.”

“I’ve tried,” Lachlan said, sounding almost disappointed. “We two…Peas in a pod
and all that, right?”

Jack nodded, deciding that if he had waited this long to keep his secret with
Adalia, the news could wait another week.

“So I think…I know something about you, mate…and something’s…something’s

different. Not sure what it is…but I can tell.”

“And?”

“It’s good to see you smiling more.”

“Am I?”

It was Curry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Are you? I see you sitting there in the Tavern
with this happy as a pig in shit grin and you’re obviously away with the pixies, and
I’m like ‘Is that Jack Corbett? Is that the same Jack Corbett whose face would
break if he smiled too much?’ I’d do a double-take sometimes to make sure it was
you.”

“And because you see me smiling occasionally you think something’s changed?”

So first John Biebe and now Lachlan, and he was wondering how many others had
detected the slight transformation in his normal demeanor but were so uncertain
in what they observed, they felt staying quiet would prove less embarrassing. The
sheriff had noted it due to his law enforcement background and the fact that John
– as resident (and unofficial) mayor, father figure and confessor – seemed one of
the more likely among the most vigilant of the siblings. Curry? The pilot had been
right about one matter: the two had always been close, and Jack was surprised
that nothing had been said prior to now.

“Think?!” Lachlan declared. “Know! Fess up, mate.”

“The only thing I’m going to fess up to…” He paused, seeing that Lachlan was
figuratively on the edge, awaiting a reply.

“What?” Curry finally asked when several seconds had passed with no answer.
“What’s the only thing you’re 'fessing up to?”

“Is that you’re slowing us down with all your yabbering,” Corbett teased, and
before Lachlan could say more, the young attorney had increased his step and
was now ahead of the small group again. “We’ve got ten kilometers ahead of us,
mate, and the morning’s wasting! Besides…I can’t yammer with you and jog up
this hill!”

Lachlan nearly stopped in his footsteps as he stared, disgusted, at his brother’s

back. “I can’t…” he began, shaking his head, only to find himself tugged along
when Jim Braddock snatched at one sleeve of the younger man’s T-shirt.

“Let it rest, Lach,” the boxer told him and Lachlan, taking the hint, increased his
pace so the three were back in lockstep with one another.

“So nothing, eh?” Jeff Mitchell asked.

“Not a word. Just the typical lawyer games is all, and you know the little word
games they play. I don’t know anymore now than I did before.”

“I’m sure Jack’ll talk when he’s ready,” Braddock offered in the only way of advice,
for he could not honestly tell of any difference in the man, but his short time at
the Point had a good deal to do with that. He could not possibly know Corbett as
well as those that had been with him for years. “You can’t force him to say
anything if he doesn’t want to yet.”

“Don’t know why,” the pilot grumbled. “Never bothered him before.”

“But he’s never had much to say anyway,” Jeff said. “What d’ya think Lach? Think
he’s met some sheila and he’s too bashful to tell us?”

“Well…he’s doing a good job of keeping her secret if that’s what it is. When was
the last time you saw him talk to a…”

“Savannah,” Braddock grinned.

“Tina,” Mitchell chimed in, unable to resist.

“Donna.”

“Chloe.”

“Laura.”

“Kaz.”

“Stephanie.”

“Kath.”

“Little Molly,” Braddock added at the last minute on remembering Stephanie and
Anthony’s daughter.

“All right, all right!” Lachlan finally exclaimed. “You wankers know what I mean.”

“Are we going to jog…or yabber ‘cause I can’t…I can’t…do…both…not now,” Jeff

told him, finding that even his athletic form was now being pushed to its’ limits,
for the road they had been climbing grew steeper as they entered the area
christened ‘the Bronte moors’ by the residents. He breathed deep, enjoying the
fragrance of heather as the wind swirled it around him, and he smiled at the way
the mauve coloring of the morning light played upon the acres of amethyst and
cream.

“He’s got a point,” Jim agreed. “If we keep running like a bunch of old women,
Jack will be showered and having breakfast back at the Tavern before we’ve
crawled in the door.” He winked at a cheery Jeff, knowing that the comment might
cause a rise in an already frustrated Lachlan.

“Old women my arse,” Curry proclaimed. “I’ll show you…” and as his brothers
watched, Lachlan began to sprint up the incline and was past a puzzled Jack
Corbett in a matter of seconds.
“Ten dollars says he collapses in the next five minutes if he keeps up that pace,”
Braddock said to Jeff as they continued their casual run.

“You’re on!”

*******

“Chef? Roger Collins over at Fresh Creations is on the line. Want me to tell him to
hold on or call you back in a few?”

Adalia looked around and towards the sous chef who was standing in her office
doorway, and quickly saying “Hold on Mom” into the receiver before covering it
with her hand, she nodded and continued with “Yes please, ask him to hold on for
me…and if he can’t – I know he’s probably busy, so if he can’t, take his number
and I’ll return his call in a second.”

“Sure thing, Chef.”

“Thanks, Raque,” she said as the sous chef vanished from the doorway.

Removing her right hand from the mouthpiece, Adalia smiled. “Sorry Mom….
Look…I have to go. I’ve got a supplier on my other line and….Well, I’m glad you
did….No…No…you know I love it when you call…and hey, at least Dad’s got you
IM’ing and emailing and all that good stuff….See? There is a world beyond the
telephone. We told you so.”

She laughed as her mother replied on the other end, but then a more serious
expression came over her features as she imagined the lovely, ageless woman on
the other end of the conversation. “Oh…I’m sorry too….I know…I know…” Adalia
touched her face as she listened, her fingers slowly drifting down to the little Star
of David which dangled just above her breasts. It was not only a reminder of what
her family meant to her, but that there was now someone else very dear to her
heart as well. “I wish I could be there too, especially since…Yeah…and I hate
missing everybody but….Oh Mom…thanks…I appreciate that….No thanks,
thanks….” It would not be the first time she had missed a holiday with the family,
but each absence did not lessen how she felt.

“Look…uh…have them…have them take plenty of pictures for me…Yeah…

everything! How the turkey…turkeys turned out…the kids’ table…the dessert
table…some of you all out playing football after dinner….Right and then email
them, okay? Tell them not to wait until New Year’s to get around to it!” she joked,
excited over the idea of the majority of her relatives being at home for
Thanksgiving.

“Well, I promise…I’ll be down the first night of Chanukah….Yeah, my boss has

already scheduled me off and it’s a weekend so….Right…and you’ll see me before
then anyway….” She fingered her desk calendar as though absently double-
checking the dates. “Yep…Black Friday…” she grinned, thinking about the
marketing name for the Friday right after Thanksgiving, what was considered the
start of the shopping season in the United States.

“I should be – yeah….Yeah, I planned it that way. It’s the least I can do since I’ll
miss Thanksgiving with….No! Mom no!....No! Don’t you dare cook, not after what
you’ll do for Thanksgiving. We’ll…No Mom…No, I’m going to do Shabbat dinner for
all of us….Yeah…Yeah…I’m bringing some stuff from here and catering it….No,
Tina doesn’t mind. Actually she recommended it. She knows it’s going to be a
busy time for everybody….Well, you just worry about us going to synagogue
together, okay?....And Mom?....You read my mind….” Adalia began to blush
although she was the only one in the office. “Yes, yes…I’m bringing my ‘young
man’ with me.”

Adalia thought of the text message she had sent earlier, and although there had
been no reply she was unsurprised and more importantly, not disappointed. There
were simply some aspects about the World War II era Jack that were still adjusting
to the modern world, and being the man that he was, texting might be easier but
it possessed none of the intimacy of the spoken or written word. Therefore, it
would not surprise her to go home later during a brief respite, and find that a
letter in his hand had been tucked underneath the front door. He was old-
fashioned that way…and she loved it as much as she loved him.

“He can’t wait,” she continued to tell her mother. “I can’t wait….Look Mom….
Okay…I love you too….Tell Dad I said hi….Okay…Okay…Yeah…I’ll call you later…
Okay….Love you….Bye.”

She sighed upon hanging up the phone, imagining Susannah Rabinovich reporting
her daughter’s side of the conversation to the Admiral while he finished his
breakfast, his handsome countenance silently mulling over each word as he
nodded, coffee cup in hand. He might not respond just then to what he thought of
the news, but would likely head outside to the family’s lake and think…think about
everything Adalia had told them since she had been hired for this position. And
then wonder just what sort of man his child would be bringing home to meet
them….

Blinking, shaking herself from her reverie, she cleared her throat and picked up
the receiver again, punching the button that flashed a bright gold at her. “Adalia
Rabinovich – how can I help you?....Oh good morning to you too….Yes, yes I’m
fine, thanks. Just busy as usual….How about you?....Wonderful and let me
apologize for keeping you. I had another call and…Oh I appreciate that….So…
you’re calling about finalizing what we need for Thanksgiving, right?....Exactly!”
she laughed in reply to the other person’s words. “Okay…let me bring up my Excel
program and…Here we go. Sorry about that – had it on another screen….So…
where shall we start?”

****
“Well, think of it this way. The sooner we get this started, the sooner it will be
over.”

Tina smiled at Arthur’s upbeat attitude as she finished the last of her coffee and
placed the dishes on the tray for her assistant to put on the serving cart. “That
was great, Arthur, thanks….Yeah…you’re right about that. I just remember what
we went through to hire Adalia,” she remarked, rubbing at her forehead. “It just
seemed…never-ending, didn’t it?”

“I know…but in the end…don’t you think it was worth all the extra hassle?”

“Oh definitely…definitely.”

“I can’t even imagine another chef but her now.”

I know, Arthur – I know. You’ve been carrying a torch for her since she got here….
”Well…she’s one of a kind, she was Annabella’s friend, so that played a lot in her
favor, 'cause she was highly recommended…”

“Yes.”

“…and she just did a great job in the interview and the auditions, but…I was so
glad when it was over.”

“I can imagine.”

“Oh! Made me think: just wait until you see her Thanksgiving menu,” she teased
in a sing-song manner.

Baskin looked up for tidying the remaining breakfast items, his eyes wide with
curiosity. “You’ve seen it then?”

Tina nodded. “Yep…when we went over the final one. Arthur…it was incredible. I
mean food-wise, this might be the best Thanksgiving we’ve ever had here.”

“Well that’ll make my brothers happy…as long as nothing runs out.”

“That was our main concern. The last thing I need is a riot because one of you
didn’t get last dibs on the final turkey leg.” She glanced around her, eyes
eventually focusing on the mantelpiece clock. “Eight o’clock….And they’re due
here…”

“At eight-thirty,” he reminded her although he knew that she was likely well aware
of it but needed that slight nudge. “Still have some time to organize yourself.”

Tina stood, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her outfit. “Yeah,” she
breathed hard, thinking that now was the time for her to do the little feminine
things to freshen up. “And thanks for sitting in on this with me. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. Whatever help I can give you.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to have another set of eyes for this.”

“True,” and he took hold of the cart’s handle. “I’ll move this outside and have
someone from the kitchen fetch it ASAP. And when they arrive…” he added,
meaning the final applicants, “they can cool their heels out in reception until
you’re ready.”

She nearly jumped when her cell phone rang and laughing she said, “Thanks...and
gotta remember to turn that off!”

“Will do,” her assistant grinned before he pushed the cart out the door.

She knew the identity from the ringtone; she did not need to check the caller ID to
know what voice would greet her on the other line and with a quick push of the
Answer key, she once more took a seat as her soft voice greeted “Morning, Teddy
Bear….Yeah…getting settled in and ready. Arthur had breakfast for me and….
Mmm…yeah…well…” Her eyes drifted to the wedding photograph that was in a
prominent place on her desk. “No…I didn’t want to wake you up. I was rushing
around anyway, and I knew you were tired and…A date?” A blush crept into her
cheeks. “Does your wife know, Sheriff Biebe?....Oh okay – as long as she’s all right
with it,” she laughed, the nerves in her stomach beginning to ease. “Sure, sure…
uh…I think that’ll work. I should be done by then….Oh really! Well…I’ll check my
appointments; see if I can free myself up for dinner too….”

*****

Kim glared at the ceiling as he reclined on the sofa, not wanting to go near his
bed until housekeeping had stripped off the linen and taken everything to the
laundry room to literally wash away all memories of the previous night. The
shower had caused an inexplicable malaise to settle over him. Wearing only his
undershorts and one of the finest robes in his wardrobe, he decided not to dress
immediately, but to wait…to plan…to reorganize.

At least his mind was clearer than it had been. The fantasies, those ridiculous
fantasies, which had permeated his brain for nearly a week now, often giving him
one sleepless night after another, had been put aside so that he could
concentrate with a clearer mind. Nothing would be accomplished by inventing
ways to punish Jack or wanting to force Adalia to see what she had obviously
missed. After all, he did not dare go too far with his brother – they all might suffer
if another did as had often occurred in the past and that was not to his advantage;
and the ‘magic’ of the Point would likely prevent him doing those repulsive things
he had dreamt of when it came to the woman he loved, especially as she would
not be a voluntary participant.

Voluntary participant he snorted, reaching over to the coffee cup on the nearby
table and taking a long drink from it. Spicy and robust, just as he preferred it, and
regrettably, it was still too early to add something stronger to it, but that again
would simply muddle his thoughts when he needed to focus.

Focus on what? What? Acceptance of what had been revealed in the restaurant
the other night? No, no he was not ready for that.

Which was why he had kept to himself nearly every day, frequenting the Tavern at
night because he knew Jack Corbett usually shunned the crowds, staying clear of
the main restaurants and either eating bar food or asking for room service
because it would keep him – if he was fortunate – away from Adalia. So far he had
been lucky and had seen neither one…

Because I still can’t be sure of how I’ll react when I finally do. Kim shut his eyes
again, his body relaxing into the sofa’s buttery upholstery until it felt a part of it.
Mmm...Have to decide about that…Can’t stay hidden in my flat forever. I need to
do…something.

And once more he drifted into a waking dream….

***

There was a soft tapping at the office door before it opened a crack to let Arthur
in. "Tina?” His sister-in-law raised her head from what almost appeared to be a
prayerful mode.

“Hmm? Oh, Arthur…yes.”

“If you’re ready, they’re here.”

“Oh right…sure. I’m ready,” she told him, easing on her new glasses. “Send the
first one in and then…”

“I’ll be right behind him,” he added with a wink before vanishing again.

Lord give me strength…and before she could have another thought, Baskin
knocked again – this time with more authority – and opening the door wider he
announced, “Mr. Quinn Harris” as the taller man thanked him and stepped around
him to stride swiftly across the room and over to Tina’s desk.
“Mrs. Biebe,” he greeted in a strong masculine voice.

“Mr. Harris – good morning,” and once more as they shook hands. She noted that
he possessed strong hands, hands which bespoke of his years as a carpenter, and
despite being on the lean side, there was no mistaking that he knew the meaning
of physical labor. His muscular build was noticeable beneath the turtleneck
sweater; the nice jacket worn over it and the Dockers showing him off to an
advantage. He appeared to have stepped off the pages of Lands End. There was a
good rugged and handsome quality to him, an attraction that reminded her of the
screen stars of the past – a tiny bit of Bogart, perhaps Robert Mitchum tossed into
the mix as well, but all things she had detected during that first interview. And
yet…

“I wanted to thank you for asking me back,” he told her, the voice full of
confidence.

“Oh it’s my pleasure. Please have a seat.”

“Thank you,” and as he sat, he gave Arthur – who was now about to take his place
in a corner chair, trusty clipboard in hand – a curious glance as if to say Why are
you here? while not saying so before his attention returned to his potential
employer.

Tina caught this but said nothing as she relaxed in her own seat, smiling and
running a hand over the resume before her. “And I’m very happy that you could
return today for a few more questions.”

Harris shifted slightly as though to adjust to the chair before he gave a slight
clearing of his throat. “No problem,” he stated, extending his hands, palms up. “As
I said, I’m just glad you asked me back.”

Instead of noticing the hard working hands once more, all Tina saw was the tiny
diamond earring in one ear, now quite visible with his hair cut shorter but not
quite in a buzz, the jewel capturing the room’s lighting in such a way that it seized
her eyes. Although she remained cordial and tried not to stare, she was mentally
and incredulously asking He’s wearing an earring? Was it there when he was here
before? How the hell did I miss that? I mean…okay, I’ve seen men with earrings,
but isn’t that kind of…I don’t know….Nineties? And isn’t he a little…old for an
earring? She scolded herself on missing such a detail, something that now
seemed as obvious as the small and likely permanent cut above his chin.

Clearing her own throat and deciding that getting down to business would take
her mind off the earring, she took up the folder with his paperwork and smiling
sweetly said, “Great…so Mr. Harris….”

****

“So if you saw this on a website…I mean, if you were in the market for such a
thing…”

“Yes…” Maximus replied awkwardly, his arms folded before him as he stroked his
chin, attempting to once more – after six years – to comprehend the thing that
was…The Internet.

While true that little by little he was growing more accustomed to a contraption he
considered – on many grounds – to be a nuisance, he knew that deep down, no
matter what any of the others told him, he would almost rather face an arena full
of tigers once more than to Google and email and IM and all those other peculiar
terms that made him chuckle. When the computer or the Internet ‘went down’ or
‘crashed’ he was almost relieved, and not in a near panic as were many of his
compatriots. After all, it often seemed to him that what was a modern
convenience was yet another way of stripping away more of one’s time, He
disdained the assumption that if you had computer contact you should be
responding to that email the second you received it. He did not need such phony
crises in his life.

But when Savannah came rushing over to the stables and ‘volunteered’ him for a
‘top secret mission…very hush-hush and on the QT’ he had no idea that she
wanted his opinion on not simply the Internet, but on the burgeoning Scents,
Swords and More website. Or 'draft site' as she had called it. Within moments, he
was standing in a back office at the store, listening to Kath explain what they were
planning and doing while the Vancouverite illustrated by slowly flipping through
various pages by the use of the mouse and the cursor. See…he did know a little
about these things, thanks to years with Laura and the others.

“So if you saw this…” Savannah was repeating with businesslike clarity, “would
you be enticed…tempted to…”

“Consider a purchase?” Maximus asked and despite his uncertainties about the
magic that was the World Wide Web, he found himself captivated by the images
he saw on the large monitor.
“We’re just asking,” Kath chimed in, “because you are someone who would be
among our target audience, as in…”

“Someone who would be interested in your products,” the general commented,

smiling.

“Yes.”

“I imagine I would find it…enticing enough,” Maximus continued, now paying even
closer attention to the professionalism of the layout and how there was not a link,
text or photograph that did not belong. “There is a certain…efficiency about it,
which I know sounds very formal, but…How do I explain it?”

“Go on!” both women shouted before they laughed.

“Well…” and he began to expressively move about his hand as he pointed out the
various things that were now in his mind, “everything has a reason behind it, a
fully logical reason. I would think that many buyers want to go onto a website,
peruse it some, but they have a specific need for being there…or one of those…
one of those…the…search…search engines that you use has brought them there.
You know as well as I that people – most people – are in a great rush and have
little time to linger…”

Kath nodded. “Right…you’re so right…unfortunately.”

“But what you are showing me now…there aren’t any…extraneous things to make
your site run slow or too many pages to go through to get to what you really
want.”

Kath was grinning even more now. “So you would stay with it? With us?”

“Absolutely….If one is in a hurry in an already busy day, the last thing you want is
to have to maneuver through two or three or more pages simply to find what it is
that you want. At least your chief page immediately indicates that you can go to
find your ‘scents,’ your ‘swords’ and…” He laughed. “…your ‘more.’ But you make
it…attractive…interesting…eye-catching.”

Savannah breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God!”

“I would most certainly either purchase something at once or return later to look
at more. What is it Laura calls it…bookmarking?”

“Right…bookmarking,” the Vancouverite grinned. “And you’re not just telling us

this to make us happy, right? We don’t need that, Max. We want to know what’s
going to work and what’s…”

“It will work,” he answered Savannah, flashing another of his infectious smiles. “If
you remain with this strategy …”
“Oh I think we intend to,” Kath interrupted, her delight at hearing yet one more
positive and constructive comment quite obvious. “And if you have any other
suggestions, please…please let us know. All of you have been such a help.”

“We got a lot of our ideas from you.”

“Then I am glad we could help. I’m glad I could help, although my ignorance about
these technical and computer…”

“You’ve been great,” Savannah said as her fingers flew across the keyboard.
“We’re trying to get ideas from everyone, and who better to ask than a sword
user.” She paused, considering her next words. “Uh…what did you think…what did
you…think…?”

“About?” he asked teasingly.

“My newest venture?” the younger woman coaxed, sensing that Maximus was
holding back on what he wished to say. “What did you think…or did you…?”

“Max…quit teasing her or she’ll explode.”

“Well?!”

“I thought…that having an armory as well as doing more of your own sword

making could be one of the finest things you have ever done.”

And it was all Savannah could do to keep from embarrassing the finest of generals
by throwing her arms around him to give him the biggest kiss just after she
squealed!

****

“If you don’t mind telling the others that we’ll be calling them shortly…” Arthur
was saying as he opened the door then patiently waited as Tina and Quinn Harris
once more shook hands.

“Sure….Well, thank you again, Mrs. Biebe.”

“Well thank you for returning. I know it was sort of short notice…”

“Not at all. Happy you called me back,” he said, his lopsided smile having a
certain charm to it. "Well…good-bye Mrs. Biebe…and thanks again,” then nodding
at Baskin, he returned to Reception.

Arthur shut the door and blew while Tina nearly collapsed back into her chair.

“And?” the Welshman asked.

Tina was slowly shaking her head, her face filled with incredulity. “I’m sorry. Was
that the same guy I saw the other day?”

Arthur nodded. “I know. I’m a tad…flabbergasted myself….His body language was

just…just…”

“Off this time?”

“That’s it – not quite the same, definitely not the same. Of course I was watching
him from behind…”

“And?” Tina sat forward a bit.

“And…I got the impression…and I’m so sorry if I didn’t observe it before but…”

“No, no, go ahead. What impression did you get, Arthur?”

“Did you notice that some of his responses seemed…well…I thought he came
across as…not…as reliable as I had first believed.”

Releasing her held breath, Tina nodded her understanding. “I thought that too. He
seemed so…so confident and intelligent and unafraid of hard work…and his
résumé definitely pans out, but…”

“You’re not sure?”

“I’m not sure...not now.”

No, there had been a few things she noticed over the next three-quarters of an
hour besides the earring. She caught a slight temper when he was asked certain
questions that would not be considered prying, but those that any good
prospective employer might ask. The answers he had previously given with such
politeness and clarity were now shorter and not as detailed, and a flinch or two or
three in the vivid blue-green eyes spoke of some hidden instability she did not like
to consider. And on top of everything else, when asked if he had any questions, he
seemed overly interested in Jeff Mitchell. While that did not bother her, Tina had
the feeling that Mr. Harris might be the type to attempt to come between Jeff and
his longtime relationship with Rick. The Point had enough of a soap opera
atmosphere at times – no need adding to it if it could be helped!

Before she could ask, Arthur placed a glass of ice water in front of her. “Looks like
you need it.”

“Thanks…and by the time this is all over and John takes me to lunch, I may need
something a bit stronger,” she joked. “I appreciate all of your help.”

“Don’t worry – I’m enjoying it,” Arthur beamed. “Now…shall I send in the next
contestant or do you need a break?”

“Send in the next…” and she laughed on realizing what he had explicitly said. “…
Contestant. Good one, Arthur – good one.”

“You needed a laugh.”

“Yeah, I did. Well…send the next one on in.”

Arthur disappeared into Reception and a few moments passed, time enough for
Tina to decide that perhaps Mr. Quinn Harris would not do for Crowe’s Point.
Unless the others prove to be total disasters after all….Oh Lord…I hate to think
we might have to start all over again, from scratch, but…

“Tina…” Arthur commented as he performed his obligatory peek into the office,
“…just wanted you to know that I checked the tracking and your sister’s flowers
are due to arrive this afternoon.”

“Thanks Arthur.”

“I’ll check again later.”

“I appreciate that.” They would make a lovely surprise for her ‘baby’ sister’s
birthday.

“And if you’re ready…”

“More than ready.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder as though speaking to someone, and then pushing
the door fully open he announced, “Mr. Gerard Montgomery.”

‘Ger’ like chair. ‘Ger’ like chair Tina’s mind kept repeating as she tried to
remember the correct pronunciation of the next applicant’s first name. Recalling
how often her own Christian name was mangled, she always took particular care
when someone’s name was out of the ordinary. ‘Ger’ like chair then red. Jair-red.
Not GER-RARD like it looks and she smiled softly when she heard Baskin also take
special care to say the name exactly right.

And yet another tall man slipped around Arthur, but unlike Mr. Harris – whose
steps seemed not quite in synch with the remainder of him – Gerard Montgomery
seemed very comfortable in his height and in his space, putting himself in full
control of what he was. Slender but well-built, one could tell he enjoyed the
outdoors by a simple glance at the once fair complexion now hidden beneath an
attractive tan, and he exuded masculinity in the same manner of the ‘brothers’
and seemed quite aware of it. But thus far, Tina had not detected any vanity on
his part; only an acknowledgement of what was fact, and he had thus far had
revealed an easy-going attitude, one of the things that led to his return as a final
applicant.

He approached the desk as Tina stood yet again, his right hand ahead of him and
in a clear Scottish burr said, “Mrs. Biebe…morning” as they shook hands.

“Good morning, Mr. Montgomery. I’m glad you could make it back.”

“My pleasure,” he sighed, his sparkling eyes changing shades so that the light
blue seemingly dissolved into waves of green and gray. “As I told you on the
mobile, I was glad to be asked back.”

“Well, please don’t stand – have a seat,” she told him, indicating the chair before
her desk. “Mr. Baskin will be sitting in with us again as he did last time.”

Montgomery only smiled his acknowledgement and once Tina was reseated, he
eased into the chair, adjusting his large form to make himself comfortable.

Taking up the resume – exactly as she had done with the last candidate – she
turned to one of the pages inside and then looked up at him once more. “If you
don’t mind…let’s get started.”

“Of course.”

It was for Tina to relax as she removed her glasses and folded her arms before
her. “Well, as we discussed before, we verified your Civil Engineering degree
through the University of Glasgow….I’ll say it once more…very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“So tell me – again – why you gave up such a promising career to go into…well…
what you did? That’s not an easy major…you graduated with top honors, and to
set it aside to…well…I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” Her eyes might have been pleasant, but
there was a seriousness in her voice that revealed that she did wonder at the
motivation of a man would put so much into building his livelihood in a profession,
only to let it go. She was pleased to see that it was obviously an inquiry he had
heard a million times, for he chuckled easily and smiled.

“To set it aside…” he stated, folding his strong hands on his lap, “was one of the
most crucial steps I’ve ever taken in my life…and I have never looked back, Mrs.
Biebe and thought ‘You made a huge mistake, Montgomery…’”

*****

Part Ten

Friday, 17th November 2006

Late Morning

“So you don’t think it’s a huge mistake? I know…I realize I’m still feeling my way
around this place…Don’t want anyone to think…” Max Skinner paused before he
put his foot in his mouth, deciding that it was time he gave someone else an
opportunity to speak, that someone being John Biebe.

The two had occasionally spoken since the Englishman’s arrival several weeks
before; the ‘older’ resident had tried to help in that difficult transition from a life
that none realized was a motion picture and into the universe that was Crowe’s
Pont, but Max still wondered exactly what they might have in common. It was the
age-old story of distinct backgrounds and lives, and him knowing that in the Real
World – or even a Movie World – he would have had little to do with a man like the
Alaskan. However, the experiences in France…the experience with Fanny –
beautiful, dynamic Fanny – had changed his life a good deal, even before his walk
through rows and rows of harvested grapevines at the chateau. These had segued
into a tree-lined country road winding toward the Point, and he had wondered why
it felt oddly familiar. Now he was learning more; acceptance of his new life as well
as obviously sharing a weird history with men who were a variation on himself.

“Don’t want anyone to think that you’re trying to be a know-it-all when you just
got here?” Biebe asked, smiling, as he caught his breath. He reached into the ice
chest to remove one puck and then another.

“Exactly! I’m sure there are already a few that think I’m a total…”

“Ass?”

Skinner chuckled. “Something to that effect, yes. That uh…that SID has already
let me know in no uncertain terms.”

John laughed, shrugging underneath his hockey gear. “SID thinks that everybody’s
an ass, especially if he suspects they can be some kind of competition.”

“Well I have no intention of competing with him in anything…yet,” he smiled,

thinking of the times at the Tavern when he made a fair attempt in exorcising his
heartbreak on the approach of the ones called lurkers. It would be so easy to fall
into bed with every willing female that recognized him and his movie…but
Fanny…memories of Fanny remained vivid. He had become a changed man
because of her.

“Trust me – just you being here is competition for him.”

“You went through the same thing, eh?”

John managed a half-hearted smile. “He’ll do what he can to bring you down…if
he can. It doesn’t have to be logical or make sense ‘cause it’s what he imagines in
those electronic brain cells of his, so you roll with the punches and keep an eye on
him.”

“I’m…uh…I’m used to that,” Skinner admitted. “You don’t get where you get in my
career…what I had in my career without learning a few things…especially growing
a couple of pairs of eyes in the back of your head. You learn to play hardball if
need be.” He looked around him, taking a deep breath of the crisp icy air
surrounding the frozen pond. “Just didn’t think I might have to play it here.”

“Well, if you’re lucky you won’t…” John struck one of the pucks he had lain down,
then quickly skated to another and another and another, hitting each at varying
angles as he practiced landing them in the net. “But…like I told you…like I told
you…when you got here…just…be…careful….Watch yourself….Otherwise…
Otherwise…”

“It’s not a bad sort of place?”

“Yeah…right…it isn’t….Excuse me a sec,” and John skated away to fetch the eight
pucks, five of which had found their mark.

“I’m throwing you off your game, John!” Max shouted to the opposite side of
where the Alaskan now stood. He had pretty much stumbled upon the location
while out walking, surveying the countryside for the hundredth time since
arriving, and although he was once playfully warned about a site that would go
from spring-like warm to a winter freeze, it still caught him unaware. He was
thinking of Fanny again, wondering if she even realized he was gone; was chewing
on a stalk of grass he had pulled up miles back…and the motorcycle’s front wheel
slipped upon hitting a slick spot. That was when he looked around him, saw the
crystal display of icicles suspended from barren branches, caught sight of the
pond and his brother in a workout, and he was overcome with a sudden need to
talk to a man he had already learned to respect.

“I can talk and skate and chew gum at the same time,” Biebe joked. “Go on. We
got sidetracked on SID… sorry about that…and you were wondering…”

“Oh, I was thinking that I don’t want to ruffle feathers with me being the newest
one here.”
“Right.”

“But I rode past that land…was thinking how much it reminded me of…well…”

“Provence?”

Max nodded. “Right…down to the last detail. Look…I…I know that you all had told
me…” His right hand created tiny circles in the air, “…had told me about locations
appearing…locations that…well…but to see it with my own eyes…”

“But your problem…”

“My problem…I don’t want to upset a man who has been here longer than I…and
on top of that knows how to use a sword…”

“Maximus isn’t like that,” John said, grinning. “I know he seems larger than life
and intimidating…”

“No shit.” Skinner had seen Gladiator years before during one of those rare visits
to the cinema – and only because the woman he was dating at that time had
pleaded with him to go – and recalled being very impressed with any character
who managed to simultaneously wield two swords with the ease of twirling two
sticks.

“You’ve met him.”

“Yeah I have…but…look…I don’t want to stir up anything when it doesn’t have to

be…not until I get my bearings around here…so I wasn’t sure if my idea…”

John skated back to where Max stood on the sidelines, the latter rubbing his arms,
despite having been given the use of his brother’s heavy coat. “I know Maximus –
he wouldn’t see it as competition, at least not from you. He’d see it…He’d see it
as…” The sheriff thought for a moment, searching for the right word. “He’d see it
as a benefit for the Point, not a detriment and not competition for him. We’re
trying to expand things around here anyway: Cort with his retreat for the kids;
Kath, Savannah and Tina having these…plans…new plans for Scents, Swords and
More; a bunch of the horse guys joining Tina at the Keeneland Horse Sales back in
September…”

“Keeneland?”

“It’s a little track down in Kentucky, but they have these major horse sales every
year; people come in from all over the world to buy these thoroughbreds. Arab
sheiks show up from Dubai…”

“And this all fits into…What?”

“Breeding…stud fees…hey…future Derby winners, who knows. The point is…it’s
making us feel less like this tiny universe to ourselves, where things have been
provided to us sight unseen…”

“By unseen powers.”

John nodded. “I know…incredible, ain’t it?”

Skinner laughed. “I’m agnostic about the whole thing anyway, but I get what
you’re saying John.”

“So back to Maximus. No…I don’t think he’s going to see as competition you
starting a new vineyard. He’ll say we need whites. He’s been concentrating on the
reds since he got here; said it’s the Roman and the Spaniard in him….Look…talk
to him. When you see him over at the Tavern sometime, just walk over to him, say
that you’d like to talk…”

“And I won’t need you as my go-between?” Max grinned.

“Nope,” John said, returning his smile. “Talk to him.”

“I will….It’d be…It’d be good land. I swear I haven’t seen anything that lush in my
life, even back in France.”

“Yeah…” Biebe replied, having heard similar comments in the past.

“I ought to thank you for all your help anyway.”

“All my…?”

“You know…showing me around, explaining the unexplainable…”

“Oh right.”

“And one of these days…” Skinner hesitated, wondering if he should take this
emotional route.

“What?”

“One of these days…Uh…never mind.”

“What?” the Alaskan decided to urge.

“Some other time.”

“Sure?” John had an idea of where Max wished to go – he could almost see it in
the man’s eyes, unspoken, that desire to know how one went on after losing that
special person in their lives. He had seen it so many times since his arrival over
seven years before, especially when there had been a time he had been in their
proverbial shoes.

“Yeah….Yeah, some other time. Besides…I’m taking you away from your…well…
what you were doing.” Skinner wasn’t a hockey fan and therefore was unclear
what his brother had been doing when he arrived, except that it was some type of
workout.

“Just getting some exercise in that’s all. I’m heading in soon anyway; want to hit
the weights a bit…cool down…shower…then I’m meeting Tina for lunch. You ought
to join me sometime.”

An incredulous expression fell over Max’s handsome features. “I don’t skate, John.
I…I don’t even think I’ve ever watched a hockey game, let alone…”

“No…not out here on the ice,” Biebe interrupted, trying not to laugh too hard.
“Join me sometime over at the gym. A bunch of us do that. I have a small fitness
center set up at the rink, but we have a bigger facility too. Come join us
sometime. You could…I don’t know…spar a bit with Braddock.”

“And go a few rounds with a heavyweight champion? No thank you,” Skinner

chortled. “I’d rather take my chances with Maximus or Hando.”

Biebe rolled his eyes. “Fine….Look…just…join us sometime, okay? Okay?”

“Sure...” Actually, it was not a bad proposal when he thought about it: he used to
jog and workout at home – something to release the tension of the high-pressure
world he once knew in England and it was also nice knowing that some of the
brothers participated in tennis, squash and cricket. It might help in removing the
ache he continually tried to push away whenever something reminded him of
her…. “So…taking Tina to lunch you said?”

“Yeah….I figured she’ll need it after the morning’s she having. She’s finishing up
the interviews today for the handyman job…”

****

“…and it’s what I feel I can bring to the Point if you hire me,” the last applicant
was eagerly saying in one of the most soft-spoken voices Tina ever heard
emerging from a man.

“Well, I appreciate your time, Mr. Durden,” she replied, standing to indicate that
their appointment was at a conclusion.

Tyler Durden was immediately on his feet as well, and Arthur – quiet and taking
mental and physical notes as he had all morning – stood too, stretching some
without being too obvious.
“It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Biebe – a real pleasure….I’m happy you gave me a final
consideration,” he said, shaking hands, using his free one to push aside a fair lock
of hair that had fallen haphazardly across his forehead.

“So am I,” she sincerely informed him, and this gave her one final opportunity to
study the person she had questioned for the last forty-five minutes.

She was again amazed at such a voice when it came to the well-built, albeit
slender blonde with the GQ cover looks. His background had checked out and his
reputation was fairly decent, so much so that his ex-wife of three years still had
good things to say about him despite an agonizing divorce. He was full of
confidence and intelligence based more on living life than reading books; there
was a strong sense of self and Tina appreciated that in him, but there were times
when he seemed perhaps too eager, and she wondered if that out of his desire to
be what the Point required…or an understandable need to escape the Real World.
There was the recently created former live-in partner with enough adopted
children to give Mia Farrow a run for the money. Terry Thorne had laughingly
proclaimed that the ex-girlfriend (for whom Tyler had left his wife) seemed
desirous to ‘collect’ orphans from every continent if possible and perhaps Mr.
Durden was ready to cut his own umbilical cord before he was in too deep.

“Well, I’ll be waiting for your answer,” Tina heard him politely say, flashing a
charming smile.

“You should have it by later tonight. Either I’ll be in touch or Mr. Baskin will…” and
Arthur smiled and nodded, “but we will definitely let you know something.”

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

“And please…before you leave…let me tell you what I’ve told the others: go to the
Tavern and have lunch on us. I doubt you had much time to get breakfast before
you came…”

“No…No I didn’t,” he confessed.

“Well, the kitchen’s aware of it so feel free. They’ve only started serving lunch a
little while ago, and you’ll still be ahead of any crowds.”

“I’ll consider it – I definitely will.” He took a deep breath, the eyes which seemed
nearly in a constant dreamlike state now glowing with anticipation. “Well, good-
bye then, Mrs. Biebe…and thank you.”

“No…thank you Mr. Durden.”

“Mr. Baskin.”

“Mr. Durden,” and Arthur politely guided the young man out into Reception,
quickly returning in time to see the Boss nearly collapse. “Well? What did you
think?”

“John would like him: he fly-fishes, hunts; Jim Braddock would like him: he boxes;
and he’d get East, Maximus and Cort’s vote: he rides. You’d honestly never think
such a…pretty boy would be capable of all that and be a handyman too,” for he
was definitely ‘pretty’ but not effete and – as with the others she had interviewed
that day – there was a certain masculinity about him that would make him quite
attractive to numerous women.

“But…?”

Tina Stewart-Biebe gave a tired smile. “Is there always a ‘but’?”

“I don’t know. What do you think? I mean…they all have their faults and good
sides…”

“Like all of us.”

“Yes…like all of us…but…”

“See? There’s our ‘but’,” she teased. “Sorry Arthur…What were you going to say?”

“Only that you know and I know that whichever one we hire, they have to be a
good fit for this place or it could backfire. We’ve always been fairly lucky in who
we’ve had employed here, whether it was our housekeeping staff or the kitchen
help or the workers in the restaurants; hiring Daniel back…well…way back
when…” he quickly finished, wanting to put aside any sad memories attached to
that name and the past. “It was a good move and a chance to give him a break he
deserved; or hiring Adalia a few months ago….I just want that winning streak to
continue.”

“So do I,” Tina softly said, her eyes drifting to the desktop and the three folders
that were spread upon it. Altogether she had spent over two hours interviewing
each of those men face-to-face; she and Arthur – along with Terry Thorne – had
spent hours doing background checks. Today was intended to solidify her
reasoning for having them revisit, and to know that this was a decision she
needed to base on what her wisdom told her.

“You already know, don’t you?”

She only smiled and nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Then run it by me, you know, for a second opinion.”

“Sure.”

“And while you do…I’ll fix us a cup of tea,” he said, locating the hot plate and tea
chest she kept stored in one of her cabinets. “You’re having lunch with John so you
don’t need anything heavy.”

“You know me too well, Arthur, you really do. Thanks…tea would be nice.”

****

It was odd, Kim considered, running a finger across the back of the sofa, how a
brother whom he had barely acknowledged during all these years was suddenly
preeminent in his every waking thought. Well, nearly every waking thought, for
the others remained of Adalia and the many questions disturbing both his sleep
and his peace of mind when conscious.

What I’m trying to figure he contemplated yet again, is how the hell they came to
know one another? When did it happen? What happened? What happened? What
happened? What happened? The question repeated in his brain, pulsing through
his temples until the pressure had his head near exploding with frustration, and
he rolled onto his left side, his teeth grinding in rhythm to the throbbing
headache.

What did you do Jack? What did you do to her? Why would a woman like her want
a man like you?

Not that Jack Corbett was uneducated or ignorant; no, Kim would never accuse
him of that, or demean him as SID might, but there was such an obvious
consideration of class and background that still set the Australian brothers apart.
Barrett had so much more in common with Adalia Rabinovich and she…she who
possessed such gentleness and breeding, filled with such strength and beauty and
intelligence….

He still smiled at the occasion when some lurkers at a table in one of the Hotel
restaurants had spoken to him not that many weeks back as he prepared to leave
after one of those splendid dinners he adored. They had complimented him,
spoken to him despite not knowing who he was….And the one female had giggled
and asked whether the chef was his girlfriend. When he had politely smiled and
replied, “No…I’m afraid not. Why?” the girl had sighed and declared that he and
Adalia looked so great together, especially the way she concentrated on him when
she had personally taken his order and suggested the various wines he might try.
It had all seemed so…natural he was informed, and Kim’s smile simply broadened
as he thanked them and hurried away, desiring to bask in the accolades and all it
might portend. After all, if others saw them and believed they should be
together…

Then why doesn’t Adalia? What the fuck is her problem? And it was exactly these
things that angered him, that made him want to shake her, to shout at her, to
discover why she was so silly and stupid and hurtful when he was ready to give
her the world if he could, to worship her and love her….

And she’s thrown it all away…and I don’t know why…I don’t understand why….

Kim…this is your own fucking fault you know….How many times did your heart
say ‘Tell her now’? How many times did you think about going to her and you
didn’t. The night of the poker game….The night of the poker game it came to
you…’go see her’ and instead…instead you took your arse down to the Tavern
and you played and…and….I thought…I thought…I thought…what? I thought
there was time…right? I thought she knew….How the hell would she know? When
did I ever…? I should have skipped the game….I should have skipped the game. I
should have been so much more efficient with all this.

Hmm…. He sat up after several further moments; caught himself chewing on the
edge of his right thumb and stopped, knowing now exactly what was necessary.

It’s time to confront her with this. It’s time to face her and ask her…tell her. It’s
time to put all these stupid hesitations aside, be a man, and let her know so she
can make a decision after she does. If I let this go on…I can’t let this go on. She’s
got to know.

Glancing around, he found his cell phone on the tabletop nearest him and
grabbing it up, he punched #02 on speed dial and waited.

One ring.

She’ll look surprised.

Two rings.

She’ll lose her voice…stutter.

Three rings.

She’ll probably tear up.

“Good morning…Papillion – may I help you?” the female voice greeted as an

introduction to the more formal of the Hotel’s restaurants.

“Hello.”

“Oh hello Mr. Barrett,” the hostess said, immediately recognizing his voice. “How
can I help you today?”

“I was calling to see if Ms. Rabinovich is in her office?”

“Ms. Rabinovich? As a matter of fact she is. Do you want me to connect you or…?”

“No…No…that’s all right, Shannon. Thanks. Do you...um…Do you know if she’s

staying in for lunch?”

“Probably – she hasn’t said. I know she’s busy working on the Thanksgiving menu
so she may stay in.”

Kim nodded silently. Well, this will make her lose her appetite. “All right.”

“Shall I tell her you called?”

“No…I was…No, that’s…that’s fine, thank you. Don’t bother.”

“Well…did you want to make a reservation for this evening as well?”

I may not have an appetite when I’m done. “How’s the booking tonight?”

“Steady, but we still have loads of room, but tomorrow evening is…”

“I’ll call back later and let you know for certain….Thanks Shannon. Have a
pleasant one.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Barrett. Good-bye.”

So now was the time. He would dress in one of his most flattering suits – perhaps
the Brooks Brothers or better yet, the new navy blue pinstriped Gucci jacket over
the designer brown crewneck and the Italian jeans, the latter style revealing both
his sense of class and a casual nature as well. She would see that he was not SID
or SID-Lite, but his own man, combining the nature of all his siblings. It was past
time burying himself away in this apartment and let the world – and her – know
everything, no matter the results.

Then she’ll fall in my arms and beg my forgiveness…or she’ll laugh…or she’ll
break my heart….

*****
The image in the windowpane was a pale shadow of her face, faded by the bright
sunlight outside, and translucent, her elfin features nearly the same color as the
sun-bleached grasses surrounding the lodge. Through her ghosted face, Chloe
Navratil could see the long white gravel road wending its' way among the trees, a
road that would split and ramble on to one of two places: to the Point and to the
access road of the neighboring town, both stark white in a summer-blanched
landscape. In spite of the looming evergreen juniper and pin oak that made up
the little niche known as the Well of Hope retreat, one felt, rather than saw, the
sepia of autumn here.

She and Cort had come to the lodge earlier that morning; way too early, in her
opinion. Their purpose was to run through the final lockdown of the retreat before
the onslaught of snow and ice to come in the following weeks. They had spent
much of the previous week winterizing every portion of the place, sealing off
leaks, inventorying supplies, re-organizing storage and equipment. The day
before, all major tasks completed, they exhausted themselves with the details,
deciding to take this morning as the final check before calling it complete. She
yawned at the image in the window; semi-wishing Cort had been a bit less prompt
in fetching her from her room at six AM…like, several hours less prompt. She’d
been dreaming about some kind of adventure where she found a sword and a coin
in a cave and she was a bit put out that she could only remember fragments of it
now.

A door closed shut in the kitchen and Chloe turned to the sound of boots stepping
across the concrete floor, forgetting the last few fragments altogether. Six
months of working with this man had given her some clue as to just how
determined he could be once he set his mind on something. And, she thought,
this was one of the few precious times they actually had some alone-time
together, time that occurred a lot less frequently than most at the Point realized.
He probably had this on his mind when he jostled her out of sleep -- and no matter
how much she tried to play possum, he wouldn't quit until she was dressed and
ready to go.

"Doors are all locked," he announced, coming into the main room of the lodge
from the kitchen, the ring of keys hooked to the belt loop of his jeans jingling
somewhat as he walked. Chloe tried not to stare at him, a somewhat difficult
thing to do, as his very presence always seduced attention. Even without a gun
belt on, there was a slight swagger to his pace, a careful approach honed by years
of experience on the watch. It was a walk that spoke of an older age, a more
challenging era, and it never failed to send her heart rate skipping. The
gunslinger had been taken out of the movie, but the Old West could never be
taken out of him.

"We're not forgetting anything, are we?" Cort asked as he came to stand with her,
giving her a look as if he knew she was thinking of something, but wasn’t quite
sure he wanted to ask.

"Don't think so," she replied, and succumbed to another yawn, causing him to
laugh softly.

"Did I get you up too early?" He reached up to brush away a stray lock of her hair.
With his announcement, he relaxed more by the moment.

"Yes, you did. You owe me."

“I’m sure I do,” he acquiesced. “No more getting up at un-godly hours of the
morning, no more exhaustion to the point of madness. At least not until
February.” He glanced around once more, a final sweep of surveillance before
declaring the shut-down a done deal. Chloe watched as his green eyes changed
shades right before her, reflecting a mood that was both relieved and reluctant.
She could almost hear the sadness threading its way through his thoughts: for all
the minor frustrations, mishaps, and misunderstandings, he was not willing to say
it was a done deal. He’d enjoyed the whole season so much.

“What a summer, huh?” she posited, reaching up to brush his brow in turn.
“Never thought I’d find myself doing the things I did, but it was great fun.”

He answered by pulling her into a deep hug.

“Gonna be a boring winter,” she added, snuggling in, “without having to plan
activities, cook meals, and prepare workshops.”

“Don’t get too settled in your saddle,” he replied. She could feel him play with the
ends of her curling hair at her back. “There’ll be plenty to do while we’re fending
off snowdrifts and long shut-ins. Just because you won’t be leading the kids on
one of your forays or putting on skits doesn’t mean your involvement will end…or
be unwelcome.” He pulled away and looked down at her, a bit hopeful. They had
discussed what she would do, now that the usual excuse for coming to the Point
was on hiatus. Helping out at the retreat was as much to repay the kindnesses
given in her first arrival as it was to visit the Point; but without that purpose, the
question of continued attendance fell into a state of limbo.

“Are you trying to say that I won’t get off scot-free?” she teased, feeling happy
that Cort had been quite clear in not wanting her visits to cease.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied. “I do have plans for us. You won’t be bored, I
promise.”

“What if all I want to do is lounge around in one of the niches of the library and
read while you work on one of your sermons?” She continued her teasing tone as
he brushed her forehead with his lips. “Or devote more time to my culinary
experiments? Adalia says I have real potential.”

“I heard the rest of that sentence, Chloe, and I think the exact declaration was ‘a
real potential for gastronomic disaster.’ The good Lord bless the woman for
saving me from your pork chop paprikash, whatever the hell that was.”

“Y’all never gave it a chance,” she protested. There had been a few successes in
cooking dinner under the new chef’s tutelage, but he loved to tease her about the
one epic fail.

“Some things were never meant to be,” Cort intoned and pulled her into a kiss
before she could argue with him. When they parted, they were quiet, singularly
wrapped in their embrace. Outside, a mockingbird sitting on the roof sang with
vigor. “It went by so fast,” he finally said, to break the silence.

“Umm-hmmm,” Chloe murmured, thinking what a surreal moment this was

compared to a couple of weeks ago, when the walls rang with the merriment of
college students on a church retreat. Now echoes of their two voices were
muffled by sheets pulled over furniture and the pale cold emptiness of a shrouded
nest.

Without warning, Cort scooped her legs out from under her and carried her to the
nearest couch, laying her softly down.

“What are you doing?” she asked, although it was a superfluous question; she
watched him brace his knees on either side of her, then stretch and insinuate
himself until he was laid out, partially atop her, their legs and arms entwined. He
resumed kissing her with intense interest until she broke off in a breathless gasp.

“Beginning a new season,” he murmured, mouth sliding down to the hollow

behind her ear, his own breath a little faster.

“Cort…I hate to ruin a…wonderful…moment…” she whispered, awash with dizzy

yearning. He was on his way to the region below her collarbone and her thoughts
were traveling on down with him. “But…we’re expected back at the Tavern.
Soon.”

“Shhhh! I’m thinking,” he chided.

“I’m thinking, too…that we don’t have time….”

“You’re not thinking hard enough.”

The top button on her blouse became detached…

“Didn’t we…decide…we’d wait…?” she asked weakly, her own hand sliding along
his arm to unlatch the cuff of his sleeve. Today, he wore the old fashioned weskit
in dark blue suede, an oddly fitting accoutrement to his jeans; and the fine white
linen shirt beneath only served to provide a soft barrier to the muscles of his
arms, a barrier her own hands were exploring.

He paused momentarily to look down at her.

“You’re right. We did.” He proceeded to unhook a second button with a rather

studious expression on his face.

“I mean, what if I have plans for you?” she asked, not minding one bit. His face lit
up.

“Do you? Tell me.”

“Well, if we had more time, we’d…oh!” The third button fell away and he nuzzled
into the open space, his hand sliding to cup her breast. His thumb moved over
the thin fabric of her bra to gauge her response and she couldn’t help herself,
arched against him…

His cell phone rang.

At first he tried to ignore it, but she stiffened, as if the ring-tone confirmed her
argument about time. Heaving a deep sigh of exasperation, he slowly pulled the
phone out of his back pocket and answered it, holding himself in a precarious
position over her while he spoke.

“Yep,” was his curt greeting. “Yeah, we’re still planning on meeting you, just
checking a few more things.” He looked down at her and she wanted to laugh.
Then, he frowned a bit and sighed again. “Well, then, we’d better get there. See
you in a few.”

“Alex,” Chloe stated, as he turned off the phone. The freelance reporter was
preparing an article to send in to the local newspaper featuring the Well of Hope
retreat and their first summer ‘in business.’ They had agreed to meet him for
lunch at the Tavern at noon.

“Wants to meet a bit earlier for lunch because he has a last minute appointment
after he gets through talking with us.” Cort carefully got to his feet and helped
her up. As his fingers re-buttoned her blouse, he conceded with another kiss, “I
guess we’ll have to begin later.”

*****

The waitress eased the plate in front of him, told him she would return to see if he
needed anything, then left him alone to try the ‘legendary hot brown’ which had
enticed him from the menu. He had never had the dish before; in fact knew
nothing about it, but the little story explaining its’ history had fascinated him
enough to think that since he would not be out of pocket, he would give it a
chance. If he was mistaken, well, he could always find a Mickey D’s once he was
back Outside.

The doubt faded the second the intermingling tastes crossed his lips. The turkey –
real turkey, not processed or deli-style – was hot and moist; the thick-sliced bacon
tinged with hickory smoke; the toasted bread must have come directly from the
kitchen’s bakery…and all of this was smothered in a delicious sauce he did not
recognize. When the courteous waitress returned to ask if he was satisfied and to
pour him a third glass of water, he was nodding his head and wondering why it
was that servers always managed to arrive right as you were either taking a bite
or in the act of chewing.

“My compliments to the chef,” was what Gerard Montgomery managed, quickly
swallowing so he didn’t look too rude. “I’ve had Welsh Rarebit before – it’s mighty
close -- but not this….A ‘Hot Brown.’ Hot Brown,” he repeated.

“Glad you like it. We have Welsh Rabbit on the menu as well but…”

“Rarebit," he interrupted.

"Excuse me?" she asked, puzzlement on her face.

"Rarebit."

"Oh? Not…Not Rabbit?"

"Well, that's an ancient tale I'd love to tell you sometime," he explained, his eyes
twinkling and his smile equally lighting up the room as well.

"Really?" She seemed torn between half-believing him and being partially
skeptical.

"Synopsis: the poor man could not afford to catch a rabbit; remember, many of
them were on the estates of the lords and gentry; royalty."

"Right."

"…so the poor man decided to concoct his own dish, thus…"

"A Welsh Rabbit."

"A Welsh Rabbit!" he agreed, pointing an index finger to indicate that she had it
right. "Of course there's another tale that the Welsh weren't very adept at
catching a real rabbit, but as I am very fond of the Welsh I won't go into that one
right now. But somewhere along the way 'Welsh Rabbit' became 'Welsh Rarebit',
probably from some hoity-toity member of the aristocracy that thought Rarebit
made it sound more elegant after they decided they wanted it for themselves."

The girl laughed. "Okay, Rabbit -- got it. I'm sure Chef knows the legend; she's
pretty hip to those kind of things, but…hey, I'm glad you gave our ‘Hot Brown’ a
chance.”

“Well, after I read that little history about it…interesting little history too. Never
heard of it before today.”

The twentyish young woman smiled. “Well, with Mrs. Biebe being from Kentucky
and some of the other regulars or residents are either Kentuckians, have Kentucky
roots or are Southerners then yeah, the Hot Brown’s was bound to make it onto
the menu. It’s one of the most popular things we started serving for lunch….So
you like huh?” She was smiling both outwardly and inwardly, thinking that if ever
there was a man that symbolized the old ‘way to a man’s heart’ then here it was
before her.

He took eagerly took another mouthful. “Aye…I like.”

“I’ll let the chef know….So…you’re Scottish you said?”

“Glasgow born and bred,” he proudly announced. “What about you?”

“Colorado born and bred – came here about a year ago.”

“And you like it here?” He did not intend to pry, but considering he was still in the
running for the handyman position…

“It’s the best job I’ve ever had….I know it’s…I don’t know…I know it’s weird, I
mean, when you first realize…things…”

“Right…” He knew that sensation of attempting to explain what should be

obvious, but this was his second visit to the Point and he still was finding it all
extraordinary beyond words.

“But then…” She shrugged. “…before you realize it, it’s the most natural place in
the world. We’re a real family around here, even when it gets kind of…strange.”

Gerard Montgomery raised an eyebrow. “Strange?”

“Well…you came, right? No real instructions…and the way things belong when I
guess they shouldn’t like it’s defying Nature….Have you seen a sunrise or sunset
here yet?”

Montgomery shook his head.

“It rises and sets in the same place sometimes, and you see things that shouldn’t
be visible from…well…okay…you see the Southern Cross and that’s in the
Southern Hemisphere right, but you can see it here and…but of course where is
here, right?”

“Aye, right.” He could understand her confusion.

She winked before concluding with “…and the Boyz. Have you met…?”

“Only Mr. Baskin and Mr. Thorne…oh, and um…uh…Andy I think his name is…”

“That’s right – Andy.”

“But…but I…I understand what you mean.”

“Well, if you do get hired I’m pretty sure you won’t be sorry and…looks like the
lunch crowd is starting to come in.” She started to back away. “Hey look, it was
nice meeting you. I’ll be back in a little when you’re done; get your dishes and all.
You really ought to save room for dessert too, you know.”

“Now…I don’t want to assume on Mrs. Biebe’s generosity.”

“Oh it’s part of the package – don’t worry. The others had dessert and coffee too.
You think it over and remember…the pecan pie is totally awesome,” she grinned
before hurrying off, giving Gerard a few seconds to admire the unconscious swivel
of her hips as she rushed about.

I think I could like it here he considered, smiling to himself as he savored another

slice of the Hot Brown and once more took a moment to study the Tavern’s
surroundings, its’ people – the usual sights and sounds that created the ambiance
of a place, that made him know whether he could feel comfortable or not. And
coming here the way he had, as the little waitress had said, on what could be
nothing more than faith, it was difficult not believing that perhaps his niche was
finally discovered.

Until he glanced to the other side of the room and saw the figure of Tyler Durden
leaning confidently forward in his chair as he chatted it up with another waitress…

Until he looked off to his left and realized that Quinn Harris already appeared to
own the place as he sat in one of the booths, his long legs rather rudely propped
up on the bench across from him.

And momentarily he felt a tightening in his throat, disabling him from enjoying the
still steaming portion he was about to swallow.

I think I could like it here if I didn’t make a mess of things….

As he did with all his interviews, he was reliving every second of it, thinking of his
high points and regretting the tiniest thing which might prove fatal to him getting
any job. Funny, he had believed this one of the best he had ever experienced –
whether for his university entry or for employment – until he regrettably wondered
if the other men had been superior. Harris had emerged from that office with the
cocky air of one who not only knew what he wanted, but got it besides; and while
he had not witnessed Durden’s exit from his own meeting with Tina Biebe, the
young man had walked into the Tavern as though he was already a resident of the
Point.

But it was mine to win or lose…and…this just feels like it ought to be…mine to
win, I mean. Does that make any sense? It feels like…I’ve always belonged here…

That was why he had not immediately come to the Tavern for lunch, but instead,
had decided to take a brief stroll around, his feet carrying him along the path
from the Hotel and onto the main roadway. The salt in the air drew him down
along the beach, where he stood for the longest simply gazing out towards the
horizon and listening to the rush of waves as they lapped at the shore; returning
up the cliff-side, he was soon wandering somewhat away from the main facilities
so that he was soon surrounded by the sight and smells of herbs and roses, and
the occasional headiness of late ripening grapes, leaving him to imagine that he
could actually taste the breeze upon which the scent was carried. By the time he
reached the stables and realized he could stand there forever, admiring the horse
flesh being taken out for exercise, he knew it was time to return. After all, he was
still only an interviewee.

What did I do wrong this time? Let’s see…Got to break that damn habit when I’m
thinking. Did I do that in front of Mrs. Biebe? Did young Baskin notice? If he did,
he’ll say something to her; he’s an observant one, that one. I’ll bet I did. I’ll bet
she caught me making that chewing motion when I think and she’ll think I look
like a heifer chewing its’ cud and that’ll be it….Or did I interrupt when I should
have shut up? Did I do that? No, no, don’t recall doing that. I wonder if I should
have said anything about being arrested. Well, since she already knew….Glad
that Mr. Thorne had laughed it off though when he ran the check on me. That’s
what Mrs. Biebe said he did; and she didn’t seem to think much of it when she
mentioned it. When you’re eighteen you get a bit daft and….I know the one
thing…I wonder…me leaving a lucrative job like that to be a handyman. Did that
make me seem…reckless? I answered it truthfully. I only hope she understands…
and wasn’t that earring Harris was wearing a bit 1990’s…?

He laughed, recalling that the tension lifted the second he recalled seeing Quinn
Harris’ earring as the three sat in the Hotel’s reception, nervously awaiting their
turn. Call him old-fashioned, but he just thought that the only men that should be
wearing earrings were either sixteenth century buccaneers (and Errol Flynn could
pull that off with nary a problem) or that heavily made-up pirate Johnny Depp
played in those Disney movies.

Well, she’ll likely overlook that in favor of whatever it is that got him a recall….
And that Durden fellow; don’t know what it is about him. Looks like the sort of lad
you wouldn’t mind having a beer with…before you go out to the streets and bang
the shit out of one another….Face it, Gerd…you don’t fancy losing to either one of
them: Mr. Earring or Mr. Runway, and Lord knows they don’t want to lose to you.
Wonder what’s going on in their minds about me?

He looked down, noticing that one final tempting piece of the ‘Hot Brown’
remained before him. Taking it onto his fork and lifting it into his mouth, the
conclusion of what had been a wonderful dish remained delicious, but there was
something regrettably bittersweet in how it now tasted.

It was at that moment that Gerard Montgomery realized that if the position was
filled by anyone other than himself, he would regret it for the remainder of his life.
Considering this was a place he had never heard of until a month or six weeks
before…considering this was a place that seemingly embraced him the second he
crossed its’ unseen boundaries…considering he wanted to know more beyond
what he had seen, had left him spending long hours in his flat, doodling and
scribbling ideas he might have in mind, inspired by those initial brief glimpses of
this world….

I’m already home.

It felt more home to him than Glasgow and that was near treason to his heart, but
still – as simplistic as it appeared – he was beginning to believe that there was no
where else he wished to put down new roots. Which was why it was tearing at him
more and more when he felt that should he lose this opportunity, all he knew
about Crowe’s Point would vanish from his consciousness as fog dissipated with
the fullness of the sun’s rays? He did not want that and yet it was now out of his
hands: his future, his growing love for the Point…

I know I can learn to love it here! No…not learn to love it. I already do.

******

“You look…You look…You look like you could…” Jim Braddock gulped as he bent
over, placing his hands on his knees as he gathered his breath and tried not to
exhale too hard. That last mile had been rougher than he remembered during past
jogs and only now, as they began the cool down, did his legs stop feeling rubbery
and the rest of his body aching as though he had gone fifteen rounds!

Jack Corbett was still moving in space, slowly now as he swiped a towel over his
face. “I…I look like…I look like I could what?”

“You look like you could run the whole course again, that’s what he’s trying to say
you bloody wanker!” Lachlan angrily declared in one breath as Jeff Mitchell
supported him, and he attempted to shake off the cramp that pulled at his left
calf.

“Now, now Lach – there’s no need for profanity,” Jeff joked with him.

“She’ll be apples,” Lachlan growled to no one in particular and he drew away from
Mitchell, nearly stumbling as he did so.

“Don’t be a derro Lach,” Jeff told him, shaking his head. “Let me work out that…”

“Rack off Mitchell!” the pilot demanded, however his tone was so non-threatening
the others could not help but chuckle. “That’s right – laugh at my pain!” and he
exaggerated his limp ever slightly as he walked in a circle.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “I think what he was trying to tell you, Jack, is that you look
better than the rest of us put together. Ready to run it again, eh?”

The lieutenant shrugged, a smile beginning to tug at one corner of his mouth as
he was realizing more and more that the secret was goading him, desiring to be
made known at last. He had always enjoyed running; had even back in what he
referred to as ‘the old days’ or ‘the War days,’ but in the past months it had
served as an outlet for his frustrations or any desires he felt for his secret love.
Nothing like a good jog; almost as good as a cold shower. “No…not really…just…It
was a good workout I thought.” Particularly since the concentration he maintained
on that last three kilometers had forced his imaginings about the chef to the back
of his mind, imaginings that appeared to have intensified since their evening
together at her cottage.

“It was a good workout I thought,’” the pilot grumbled, using a nearly high-pitched
voice to imitate his brother’s calm tones. Curry gesture one hand to indicate his
disgust. “I don’t know about the rest of you…but I…” and he slowly began to
move away, “…I am going to drag my sore muscles…back to my flat…and look
after myself since none of you lot give a damn…”

Jeff crooked his left arm as he pretended to hold a tiny violin and with his right
hand began to slowly play the pretend instrument.

Lachlan Curry was not bothered – he might be aching, but he was having too
much fun to let it go now. “Sod off, Mitchell!” he shouted as everyone chuckled
and then he went back into his performance. “…and I hope…I hope not to see…
any…any…of your faces…of your faces…for the…for the rest…of the day, do you
understand me? None of you!”

Braddock grinned. “And the Oscar for best actor goes to…”

“That’s right – humor yourselves. I’m going…to have to…have to…give it some
thought…some… serious thought as to whether I ever want to…to…to run with
you again.”

“And ruin a tradition?” Mitchell asked as the ‘violin’ playing ceased.

Whatever it was Lachlan said was lost in the muttered undertones as he hobbled
away.

“You’re limping on the wrong…” Jeff called, then shaking his head and rolling his
eyes he told the other two, “I’ll catch you mates later. I’d better help him back to
his apartment before he makes a total arse of himself. He does have a cramp but
he’ll never admit to it….Lachlan! Wait!”

“See ya, Jeff,” Braddock said.

“Ta, Jeff,” Corbett added and the two remaining brothers watched as Mitchell put
an arm around Lachlan’s shoulders and the men finished the few yards that would
take them into the Tavern.

Jim turned up his own nose as he sniffed the air, shaking at the collar of his T-shirt
when he did. “Speaking of showers, I’d better be hitting them myself….Jack?” he
asked, noticing that the Aussie’s attention had suddenly been drawn away as he
seemed to stare over the short distance towards the Hotel. “Jack?!”
“Hmm?”

“I was just saying that I’d better be hitting the showers myself.”

“Right….Yes…uh…me too.”

“You all right, Jack?”

Corbett nodded as he returned to reality, chiding his mind for wandering again as
he thought about Adalia – at this time of the day – in her office and likely working
hard to make her first Thanksgiving for the Point a great success. She was such a
perfectionist when it came to things like that. “I…” and he rubbed a hand across
the back of his neck. “Just…thinking about lunch that’s all.”

Jim thought the expression a bit more than that, but only nodded and said
nothing.

“I…think I’m going to shower and then come back downstairs for some lunch,” the
lawyer continued.

“Lunch sounds good about now….Feel like company?” Braddock asked the
younger man. “I’m not trying to intrude of course but…”

“Feel…? Of…Of course Jim – that would be outstanding.” Perhaps a nice casual
conversation with the boxer would keep his mind on one subject and not
wandering so much as it lately had a tendency to do.

“I’ll meet you down in the Tavern in…half an hour good?”

“See you then, Jim.”

But once the New Jerseyan had disappeared through the front doors, Jack Corbett
felt his body relax as the pretense was finally and momentarily set aside. Thirty
minutes give or take – time enough to do what he had in mind; to behave
spontaneously as perhaps he never had in his life until he came to know her.

He would shower, then jot a quick note in response to Adalia’s text message – I’ve
always been able to keep secrets, but keeping ours is becoming so difficult, and
you’re right…I’m counting the days, the hours….Nothing lengthy and whatever his
words, she would comprehend all the meaning behind it because they now knew
one another that well. But he would write the note; slip over to her place and
leave the message in her mailbox so she might find it when she got home later in
the day, and either be on time for meeting Jim Braddock or only a few minutes
late. The more he considered it, the more determined he became to carry through
with the plan and with an uncharacteristic spring in his step, he started a slow jog
up the path from the main road.
*****

Kim slowly walked to one of his living room windows as he tugged his arms into
the sleeves of the tailored jacket, his gaze drifting through the sheer panels of the
curtains and down into the main courtyard of the Tavern. There were times when
the location of his apartment was an inconvenience as he often suffered to the
sounds of the comings and goings of an exuberant weekend crowd, but there
were other times when it was to his advantage, giving him a key view of the Point
as the residents and visitors arrived and departed. Most times he grew bored with
the people-watching from such remoteness, preferring to see the individuals much
nearer so that he could read them better, but it was occasionally very nice to see
it all at this distance; made him realize what he knew SID often must – that
observing things from this floor, from ‘on high’ gave one such a sense of
omnipotence.

His plan now was to stroll over to the Hotel and find Adalia, hoping that she would
not be too upset if he interrupted her day, particularly if he gave word that he
needed to see her on some important matter. Likely she would believe it had to do
with a wine tasting he was considering or helping him place an order in time for
the upcoming Christmas holidays, and this was why it was crucial he handle the
situation just right: to not blame her or to be accusatory or to launch into some
rant that would rankle her pride….

And that was when he saw them, his fingers pausing in the act of fastening the
coat’s buttons and instead, gripping the curtain’s fabric in one hand.

Braddock, Curry, Mitchell and Corbett were casually walking up the central
boulevard and likely returning from what Kim assumed was one of their group
runs, and his back straightened, a somber expression tightening in each facial
muscle. Three of the men were in obvious good humor and it was likely Lachlan,
looking rather stern and limping around, who was the reason for their laughter –
especially when a brace of ducks waddled by as if imitating him. After a few
moments, Jeff was assisting the pilot in maneuvering from the little group and
probably inside. Kim’s eyes narrowed as Jim and Jack remained, the two briefly
speaking and finally – with a slight wave – the ‘old man’ disappeared and
Corbett…Corbett was alone…in thought….

Alone…Alone….

The reason for his pain; the reason for his rage; the reason for the waking and
sleeping nightmares Kim had suffered this last week…it was all because of the
bastard that now stood below with not a thought in his skull but of how he could
tear him down in every possible way.

Forget seeing Adalia when the real cause of everything was in plain view. Barrett
felt the constriction in every sinew of his body and letting loose of the curtain --
nearly ripping it from the rod – he charged out the door and into the hallway,
crashing so hard into a passing Jim Braddock that the American had to steady
himself.

“Hey!” the boxer shouted, not out of anger but concern as he saw the rush Kim
was in. “Kim?! Hey Kim…what’s wrong?! Kim!” Jim shook his head as Steve
emerged from his own apartment, several camera cases swung over his shoulder.

“Jim? What the hell’s up?” the New Yorker asked on seeing the other man’s
perplexed expression.

“Uh…I don’t…” Braddock looked towards the staircase which led into the main
area of the Tavern, the direction in which Barrett had vanished. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not…?”

“Kim almost floored me like a Joe Louis punch.”

“A Joe…?" Steve did not have to ask the identity of Joe Louis; any self-respecting
boxing fan knew the name of the African-American heavyweight champion who
once beat Braddock, and later went on to be beaten – and then defeat – the finest
boxer the Nazis could produce. The Brown Bomber -- who could put down an
opponent in one round if the mood struck him. "Are you shitting me? Kim? Why?”

“Don’t know – he was in an awful hurry that’s all I know. I tried to ask him what
was wrong…”

“And…?”

“And…nothing. Didn’t say nothing; didn’t even stop. Wasn’t expecting any apology
but…” Jim shook his head, recalling his brother’s face and that it was
reminiscent…

“But…what?”

“But…he looked like he was ready to rip something apart, that’s what.”

“Kim?!”

“I haven’t seen that look on any man here but…” Braddock’s eyes revealed
concern. “…but he reminded me of…he reminded me of Baer.”

“Max Baer?”

Jim hesitated but then nodded again. “He reminded me of that look Baer always
got…”

There was no need for Braddock to say more. Steve let go with a slow whistle as
he, too, glared down the hall and wondered.
*****

“That was great. Exactly what I wanted you to give me.”

Cort glanced towards Chloe at his right, the skepticism quite visible on his
features; but the second he saw her smile and twinkling eyes, he managed to
relax for the first time in a half-hour.

“It is?” he asked Alex.

His brother nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. It’s what I was hoping for.”

Cort sat back, one hand tapping out a rhythm on the tabletop. “I just want to
make sure it’s the kids who benefit - not me. This whole retreat is about them
and their needs."

“A Marine's honor…" and to stress the point, Alex placed one hand over his heart,
“this article is gonna to help with that. People will like the good you’re doing and,
if we’re lucky…”

“If?” The concern had returned.

Ross grinned as he flourished the pencil between his long fingers with the skill of a
drum major and a baton. "When people read this – not just in the old-time press but online too –
you’ll start seeing the donations pour in. A lot of folks'll want to help.”

Chloe gently patted Cort’s arm as she explained, “I think he’s worried that people
might think it’s some kind of scam.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it. Not with the reputation I’ve built. And this'll
get to a lot of Americans and Aussies…well, damn!”

“What?” Cort followed Alex's gaze to the front door of the Tavern, where a group
of slightly stunned newcomers stood by two doors slowly swinging closed, one
person shrugging in a disgruntled way.

Alex pointed out the object of his attention as it appeared just outside the open
window by their table. “Talk about a man on a mission,” he gently laughed.

“Who?” Chloe asked. All she could see was the back of the person of interest as
he moved across the graveled walk.

“Kim. He just ran outta here like a bat outta hell. Almost knocked over that fella
over there too.”

*****

He had lingered long enough, he decided, especially after watching his

‘competition’ leave ahead of him, those two actually laughing together as they
departed, seemingly the best of friends now. The chumminess nearly sent him
into a bout of ridiculous paranoia as he imagined them promising the other that
whichever man won the coveted position, they would pull the obligatory strings to
hire the 'second place' choice as an assistant. It was almost too much, and
grunting as he pushed himself away from the table, Gerard Montgomery sighed
and rose to his full six-plus feet, the disappointment vanishing from his features
when his waitress returned.

"You leaving, Mr. Montgomery?" she asked, her smile lessening as she drew closer.

"Aye…figure it's time to head home. Not sure how long a drive I'm going to have,"
he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Been there -- done that," she answered "You never know where the Point's going
to let you out, do you?"

Montgomery nodded. "Last time it did, I was four kilometers South of Glasgow.
Knowing my luck…" and he moved closer to her, "this time it'll put me over in the
Shetlands and I'll have to ferry it to Aberdeen and drive home."

"Well, if it does that to you, let Mrs. Biebe know. I'm sure she'll reimburse you.
She's good about that," the girl said with what appeared to be some great
knowledge.

"Happened before, eh?"

"Unfortunately, yeah….Uh…Shetlands? Like ponies?"

Gerard smiled. "Like ponies."

"Sounds nice."

"It is…especially when you know the right person to act as your guide," he added,
winking as she escorted him towards the main entrance.

"You -- Mr. Montgomery -- are incorrigible…and…" She stopped walking, as did he,
and glanced around to make certain none of her fellow employees were nearby. "I
know I shouldn't say this because we're supposed to be, you know, unbiased…but
I hope…Hey!" she suddenly shouted as a blurred figure rushed between them,
one hand shoving Gerard's chest in order to move the man aside. "Hey! What's
your problem?!" she called. "I'm sorry Mr. Montgomery….I…"

Gerard brushed the backs of his hands over his chest. "No harm done…He's
already been dingied," he told her…although if the bastard did that to me at a
pub, I'd have to drag his….

She laughed. "Dingied?"

"Ignored."

"Ah okay."

"So who was that anyway?"

"Kim…another of the brothers." Her voice reflected an unhidden dislike of the

man.

"And where's he off to in such a hurry?" Montgomery asked as Barrett

disappeared out the front doors.

"Who knows. Probably realized that the laundry didn't use the right kind of fabric
softener on his designer shirts."

I was right -- I could really love it here! Too bad I'll probably never find out.

******

Both hands placed on his knees, Jack took several more breaths, then stood
upright, tossing back his head as he allowed a slight breeze to wash over him,
nearly drying the perspiration that still trickled from his hairline. Yes, that would
be the plan, he decided, realizing that he could not wait to climb into the shower.
Kicking aside a pebble, he began the short walk into the courtyard, his mind
playing a game of how few words he could work into a short written message and
still maintain his point.

“Hey!”

His reverie was broken. Jack blinked, then squinted his eyes as he realized that
the yell had come from Kim, his brother now hurrying towards him with the speed
of someone with either some very good news – or very bad. For a second, Corbett
felt his stomach take a flip. He and Kim had so little in common, had so few words
for each other even after all these many years, he could not imagine why his
fellow Aussie was now rushing in his direction. . . unless there was an emergency.

“Kim?” he asked, all matter of things going through his mind as he imagined the
worst.

Barrett did not – or could not – answer, but instead drew closer, his pace
quickening.

“Kim?” Jack repeated on not receiving an immediate answer.

Barrett was now a short distance before him, the face a mask, revealing nothing
and yet it was the glimmer in those eyes so similar to his own that caused Jack to
realize that something was definitely wrong.
“Kim…what’s the matter? What’s happened?”

Barrett was now a few feet before him, near enough for the lawyer to hear the
exertion as the other man breathed hard, near enough for him to see real anger in
his brother’s eyes.

“You fucking bastard,” Kim spat.

“What the…” was all Jack managed before Kim's huge fist caught him off-guard
and landed with a ferocious crunch against his left jaw. Corbett stumbled, then
dropped, falling so hard to one bare knee that he felt the pavement yanking skin
from the joint. He froze in stunned shock, eyes watering from pain and he raised
his head in time to see Kim reaching down with one hand and snatching the front
of his shirt, the fabric twisting in his grasp until the material was tugging and
tightening around Jack’s throat.

He began to struggle, to claw at Barrett’s wrist to free himself, to fight back, and
all the while, Kim repeated the same words until they formed some kind of
sickening mantra….

“I…am going…to kill you….I…am going…to kill you!”