Since becoming husband and wife, the opportunity for closeness has eluded Mr. and Mrs. Steele. For Remington Steele Investigations, it's still very much business as usual. It seems life has conspired to pull them apart as often as possible.
The Steele's have been planning a long overdue getaway for sometime, however Mr. Steele was out of town at a speaking engagement all day, while Mrs. Steele's departure would be further delayed a day by an unexpected police investigation. They would have to meet up later.
Where they were to go remained a surprise for Laura, since Mr. Steele thought it exciting to reveal the destination by postcard to his wife at the very last minute.
"So where are you kids off to?" asked Mildred Krebs.
"Fun awaits you at … Whistler, B.C." Laura waved about a postcard depicting a snow scene with a skier.
"Have Fred pick me up at the apartment in thirty minutes, Mildred," she said as she headed out the office doors.
Later that afternoon.
"Remington Steele Investigations … Oh. Hi Boss … Laura? … On her way to Whistler … British Columbia! … What do you mean you are in Vermont? … Oh my."
A driver picked up Laura from the airport and drove her to the hotel. Upon arrival, she received a message to meet Mr. Steele on the ski slopes.
Several hours later, Mr. Steele grew suspicious when a driver he didn't request was waiting to take him to their hotel. He became even more restless when he just finds Laura's luggage in their rooms and his wife missing in a snowstorm.
The fresh snowfall made the search difficult. Every now and then, Steele called her on his cellular. He was getting bars, but no signals. The third time's the charm, he located her mobile handset at the bottom of a two meter drop.
"Ow!"
The pain in Laura's right side was excruciating. She managed to sit up against a tree. The last thing she recalled was slipping on some icy patch and sailing through the air. Then skidding head first into some trees. She must have crashed into this tree.
Her skis were a write-off though. She seriously doubt that she would get her deposit back on these rentals, which were still attached to her boots. One of them was bent out of shape and the other broken, like she felt.
The temperature dropped some more, by the time she heard sounds other than the blowing wind.
"H-H-Help!"
Steele waited anxiously as rescuers brought up his wife and secured her to a stretcher.
"Laura?"
She peered up at him.
"Mis-ter S-Steele?" she said so very softly. "Long time."
Steele gestured a small thanks to the heavens for small fortunes.
Although, safety gear may have saved her life, Laura still suffered minor injuries. Steele saw that she was holding her side protectively and winced at every movement.
After a long wait, in the emergency ward, Steele's concentration was fading fast. He was half listening to the doctor deliver Laura's prognosis, as he held his wife's all too cold hand … Hairline fractures on the right scapula ... oblique fractures on right ribs 5, 6 and 7.
"Beg your pardon?"
By the time the doctor asked him about his wife's medical history, Steele was at a complete lost.
Laura tapped her husband on the shoulder. She had a suggestion.
"Ask Mildred," Laura offered.
"Mildred?"
Laura nodded.
"She is going to be alright … She had a bad fall … Mildred. Mildred, just tell me if she has any allergies … Antihistamine? … Thanks love … We'll be home soon … When? … Tomorrow night … Bye bye."
Home sweet home at last, but hardly alone. When Fred dropped the Steele's off at their Los Angeles apartment, Mildred would be waiting for them. Mr. Steele opened the door to their rooms, to allow Laura to walk on through, before setting down their bags.
"Ooh! Honey!"
Perhaps it was the Aspirin or being bundled up to the gills in compression bandages, Laura was unfazed when Mildred swooped in with open arms, giving the younger woman a bear hug.
"Ooh. Ah. Ha ha."
Laura wanted to stay to discuss their current predicament with her husband, but Mildred gave her a stern look. She was about to object but acquiesced and let the older woman march her off to bed.
Over the years, Steele has observed that Laura has tried to, but was never quite able to avoid Mildred's well-intentioned shows of affections. It brought them closer together though. Steele could see now that the bond these women share was definitely stronger than what he could ever have with Laura.
Shortly afterwards, Mildred was done. She emerged from the bedroom to give Steele an OK sign.
"I got some mentholatum for you. Rub on her chest to clear the congestion." She hands him the jar of ointment from her handbag.
"And when she wakes up hungry, give her some of this ginger chicken broth. No solids yet." Mildred takes out a thermos from her tote and sets it down on the coffee table.
Steele nods.
"Thanks Mildred," he paused. "How is it you know Laura's medical history so well?"
Mildred threw on her shawl.
"Experience, Boss."
"Where was I when you had this experience?"
"It all happened when you were on that book signing tour, back in February."
"Oh yes. Twenty cities in seven days… . Hmm."
Mildred put on her hat.
"Yeah. The client, from the Devlin case, gave Laura the flu. But the poor kid developed pneumonia that sent her to the hospital for two days."
"And you were there for her. Bless you Mildred."
Steele kissed Mildred on both cheeks and saw her off.
Peering into their bedroom, Steele smiled at the sight before him. Propped up with extra pillows and covered with her favorite comforter, Laura sneezed into a tissue.
"Whatso funnee?" she said, wiping her nose.
"I never thought I would see the day the unflappable Laura Holt would let someone take care of her."
Steele slid under the covers and snuggled next to her as close as possible, then reached into his pant pocket and produced a coin.
"I found this in our hotel room."
"Descoine?" Steele shook his head.
"Still in prison," he said, as he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't worry about that now."
But she does anyway.
"Laura… I didn't send you that message."
"I know."
He leaned over and kissed Laura between her brows and followed it with a kiss on her lips.
Catching a sniffly breath, Laura finally said, "What are you doin'?"
Steele kissed her again.
"Stob it. You'll get sicck too." Ah … ah … achoo!
"I don't get sick."
Laura eyed him suspiciously as he produced a jar of mentholatum.
"Now what are you doin'?" She sniffled.
Steele opened the jar and then looked down at his wife, bandages and all, with a glee in his eyes. Knowing what he wants, Laura pulled the comforter up to her chin in mock indignation.
"Mr. Steele!"
Dedicated to the show writers for all the one-sided telephone conversations that always made me laugh.