(25.1 years)

Chapter 1

'So we're really doing this, then?' Neal asked.

Sara reached across the table and snatched a slice of crisp bacon off Neal's plate, popping it into her mouth as he looked on, unruffled. She'd been picking food off his plate since they'd first met - refusing to order high calorie fare only to pick away at Neal's plate when his meal finally arrived. Luckily, he'd ordered an extra rasher of bacon - otherwise, there would likely be nothing left on the plate for him.

'Sara?' he said as she stared off into space.

'What?' she asked, her attention returning to her husband.

'We're really doing this, then?' he repeated.

A smile returned to her lips and whatever had been on her mind momentarily vanished as her attention returned to the discussion they'd been having.

'Yeah' she said, her smile growing. 'It's the perfect time, don't you think? Now that Hope and Liam are both out of the house and Caitlin is in college.'

'So what do you think? Right around our anniversary?' he suggested, pulling up a calendar on his phone. 'We leave for Paris on the 18th… we could do it on the Sunday before, the 15th.'

Sara looked a little unsure, something that didn't escape Neal's keen eye. 'You're worried about Hope' he stated more than asked.

'Aren't you?' she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Neal gave her a confident look, intent on reassuring her. 'She's going to be fine. And we'll be back in plenty of time…' he reminded her.

Sara seemed to realize she was being silly and she looked up at her husband with a goofy grin on her face. 'You're right, I'm being silly. That sounds perfect… Sunday the 15th.'

Neal returned the smile and reached out for her hand, his fingers lingering on her wedding ring.

'What about rings? Should we get new ones?'

'No!' Sara said spontaneously, pulling her hand away and returning to her white egg omelet. 'I love my ring.'

She glanced down at the ring Neal had picked out for her almost twenty-five years before, a sparkling emerald beautifully set between two diamonds. She had fallen in love with it the moment she'd first laid eyes on it, all those years ago in Neal's loft at June's.

'Okay then' Neal nodded, taking a sip of coffee. 'Maybe we can just… I don't know… I was thinking we could have them inscribed with something for the occasion.'

Sara slipped it off, a faint indent remaining on her ring finger and she glanced down at the inside of the band. 'There's already an inscription' she reminded him with a wistful smile.

Truth was, after years of wear, the inscription Neal had lovingly had engraved on the inside of her wedding ring was barely visible. He reached out to take it from her hand.

'At least, let me have them both cleaned' he said. 'If I'm going to slip this ring back on your finger and promise to love, honour and cherish you for another twenty-five years, we should at least give it back its original lustre.'

'Not yet' Sara whined, snatching it back and returning it to her finger. 'I'm not walking around without it for the next six weeks.'

Neal grinned at her rarely seen sentimental streak, returning to his breakfast.

Sonia, their regular waitress appeared, coffee pot in hand. 'More coffee?' she asked.

They'd been coming to Mel's Diner on weekends ever since they'd moved to White Plains, usually with the kids, although not so much since Liam had gone away to school.

'Please' Neal said, lifting his cup.

'So are you two really going to renew your wedding vows?' she asked, hand on one hip.

'Looks like it!' Sara said as she gave Neal a furtive glance.

'That is so romantic' Sonia said, her voice languid. 'You know, you two are my favourite couple' she added, leaning in and lowering her voice as if confiding some deep, dark secret.

'Well, that works out perfectly because you're our favourite waitress' Neal responded with a twinkle in his eye.

'Hey, Sonia! Table six needs coffee' Mel's loud voice was heard, resonating through the diner.

Neal gave her a brilliant smile and a flirtatious wink and the woman smiled warmly, shrugging before leaving them on their own.

Sara laughed, the woman had had stars in her eyes ever since she'd first met Neal, years before. 'You really shouldn't encourage her, you know. She's had a mammoth crush on you for years.'

'It's just harmless flirting' Neal answered with a shrug. 'She's happily married to Mel and… well, so am I… I mean not happily married to Mel, but to you.'

The comment seemed to go right over Sara's head as her face grew serious once more. Neal continued, convinced she wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying. 'Of course, my other three wives don't seem to mind when I flirt with her so…'

As suspected, he got no reaction at all from his wife; something was obviously gnawing at her and Neal hadn't yet managed to find out what it was.

'Hey, Repo!' he said, pulling her out of her reverie. 'Do you want to tell me what's been on your mind ever since we sat down?'

'Just… work' Sara responded vaguely with a faraway look in her eyes.

'You still working on the case of the disappearing cameo brooch?' he asked.

Sara appeared annoyed at the question although her annoyance wasn't directed at Neal. She'd been stumped by a series of seemingly unrelated thefts from the homes of some of Sterling Bosch's most elite clients.

'It doesn't make any sense, Neal. None of the stolen items have surfaced anywhere. Usually, you hear a whisper here and there when something comes on the black market but it's almost as if the items have totally vanished in thin air… or are being hoarded.'

'You still think the thefts aren't related?' he asked.

Sara shook her head. 'Totally different MO's' she responded '…and they're happening all over the place. One of the thefts happened in London, another one in Seattle and then there was that antique silverware that disappeared from Omar Rashid's mansion in Dubaï.'

'The guy with the gold plated car?' Neal asked, recalling her mentioning the particularly demanding client.

She nodded. 'He's been calling every week for the past two months…'

'Whatever happened with the Matisse you were chasing down?' Neal asked, taking a bite of his cheese omelet.

'We had to pay out' she admitted with a look of disappointment. 'That's the third claim we've had to pay out in the past year - all from our top ten list of most valuable merchandise.'

Neal studied her face; Sara had begun to show cracks in her confidence over the past few months, unable to break some very high end cases, resulting in a higher rate of payouts than usual.

'Do you think I'm losing my mojo, Neal?' she asked in all seriousness.

He laughed at the absurdity of her comment. Sara was the best insurance investigator Sterling Bosch had in their stable. She'd been heading up a team of elite investigators for the past several years and she'd been entrusted with the insurance company's most demanding, finicky clients. Winston Bosch had also asked her to oversee the company's staff mentoring program, something Sara had initiated and which continued to pay dividends for the large insurance company.

'No! Of course not. You've had to deal with some really tough cases lately and you and your team have done everything you can. It's just… a run of bad luck.'

'Well, Mr. Bosch wants to see me first thing Monday morning. I have a feeling I'm going to get an earful.'

'Sara…' Neal said, putting his fork down and looking into her eyes. 'You are the best insurance investigator that ever set foot at Sterling Bosch and Winston Bosch is no fool. He knows that.'

She shrugged and grabbed for another slice of bacon off Neal's plate. 'You want me to order you some bacon? Make you feel better.'

'I don't eat bacon' she pouted, her mouth full as Neal smirked and shook his head.

'Listen, I was thinking we might drive up and see Liam next weekend. They have a game on Saturday night' Neal said, hoping to break the sombre mood.

'Yeah, that'd be nice' she agreed. 'Do you think Peter and Elizabeth might want to come along?'

Neal nodded. Ever since Peter had formally retired from his position at the Raphael, Neal had noticed that his best friend was in a bit of a slump. When Elizabeth had sold Burke Premiere Events the previous year, she had insisted Peter stop working full time so they could enjoy travelling and spending some quality time together. Peter still looked ten years younger than his seventy-three years but he suffered from a lot of aches and pains from all those years in the field working for the FBI and he wasn't as spry as he used to be. But working alongside Cameron Armstrong at the Raphael Gallery had kept him active and busy and lately, he'd been looking like a little boy who lost his dog.

'It might do Peter some good' Neal agreed.

Sara gazed at her husband across the table from her in the bustling diner. She knew how much he worried about his best friend. Watching Peter growing older was hard on Neal who had always idolized his mentor and ex-handler - and perhaps it was a reminder that, he too, was getting older.

'You know, if you wanted to make it a guys' weekend, I've got plenty to do around here. Maybe it would do you good to take off with Peter and have some one on one time with him' Sara suggested.

'You think so?' he asked, frowning.

She reached for his hand and squeezed. 'I do' she said before chuckling. 'I guess I'd better start practicing that phrase if I'm going to marry you again, huh Caffrey?'

WCWCWC

'Mr. Burke!' Cameron Armstrong called out as the little bell over the door of the gallery jingled. 'What brings you out to Chelsea on a Saturday afternoon?'

'Hey Cam!' Peter replied, stepping inside and taking in the dozen or so customers wandering around the place.

'I was just out and about and thought I'd pop in and say hi. Wow, the place is really hopping' he commented.

Cameron turned to face him. 'Yeah, well, tourist season is just around the corner and you know how it gets' he said.

'Good for you, Cam… good for you' Peter replied, taking in the many patrons milling about. 'Is Hope around?'

Cameron smiled; he figured Peter hadn't driven all the way from Brooklyn just to check on how things were going at the gallery. Over the years, the young man had gotten used to having to share Hope, first with Neal and Sara and then with her doting godfather.

'Yeah, she's in the back, finishing up a class. She shouldn't be long' he replied.

'Excuse me' said an older looking woman, stepping forward and interrupting the two men. 'I was wondering what you could tell me about this piece.'

Cam glanced down at the small, framed watercolour she held in her hand, the image of a field of lilies in the bright sunshine. He knew it well, considering it had been painted in the small apartment he shared with Hope.

'It's called 'Lillies in the Wind' he explained with a smile.

'What can you tell me about the artist?' she asked.

Cameron gave Peter a knowing look before responding. 'She's a very talented up and coming artist. She works mostly in oils and watercolour. We've got several of her pieces upstairs.'

'Is she a local artist?' the woman asked, squinting in an attempt to decipher the signature on the canvas.

'Yes, she is' Cam said, trying to suppress a giggle. 'Very local.'

'What's her name?'

'Hope Ellis-Caffrey' Cameron replied with pride. 'Actually, she's my wife.'

The woman grinned. 'Well, she's very talented. I'll take it.'

Cameron walked her over to the cash register where two other customers were waiting to be served. He gave Peter a shrug and Peter headed to the back of the gallery to find Hope.

Over time, Neal had invested in some renovations to the gallery and the classroom space had been expanded to double its original size. The classes at the Raphael, contrary to the ones at the June Ellington School of Art, catered to well-to-do families and the children's classes, in particular, were always in high demand. They had become so popular that Hope had recently taken over the classes exclusively, leaving the overall management of the gallery to her husband.

Peter walked over and peeked into the classroom, observing as Hope leaned down to speak to one of the students, a young girl who looked to be about eight years old. Hope had a real knack for working with kids, she was patient and calm and Peter loved watching her interact with them; it was one of the things he missed most about not being at the gallery on a daily basis.

In many ways, Hope was still recuperating from the horrific accident she'd been involved in five years earlier. Although cognitively, she'd managed to escape relatively unscathed, she still struggled with her flow of speech at times - especially if she became angry or upset. The stubborn stutter would rear its ugly head and the more upset she became, the more difficult it was to express herself. It frustrated her to no end and she'd worked long and hard on developing strategies to remain calm in order to minimize her level of frustration.

But, to her credit, she had come a very long way and she'd persevered through months of speech and physical therapy following the trauma she'd suffered. Now, she was down to monthly check-ins at the speech clinic - more for troubleshooting than anything else - and she wasn't yet ready to completely let go of the support she received from her therapist.

Emotionally, it had taken her months to recuperate. She had moved back into her parents' place along with Cam, never returning to Pittsburgh to finish her Fine Arts degree at Carnegie Mellon despite her intense desire to do so. The demands of living alone in another city and taking classes full time had been too much for her to face and she'd elected to stay close to home, taking all the courses she could online while she continued to heal from multiple surgeries, including plastic surgery for her facial injuries. Nowadays, the scars on her face were almost imperceptible to the naked eye but Hope still saw them every time she looked in the mirror. But with her family's support and Cam's steadfast presence by her side, she was learning to accept the relics of the suffering she'd endured throughout her lengthy ordeal.

Eventually, she and Cam had gotten a small place in the Bay Ridge neighbourhood of Brooklyn and with time, Neal had turned his attention exclusively to running the June Ellington School of Art and had left the management of the Raphael in Cam and Hope's capable hands. They had grown their art classes and diversified their offerings and the gallery's sales had skyrocketed, to Neal's delight.

Hope caught sight of Peter glancing through the glass door of the classroom and she waved as he smiled back. He beckoned her with a single finger point and she excused herself, peeking her head out the door.

'Hey, Uncle Peter' she said with a wide smile. 'What are you doing here?'

He kissed her cheek and returned the smile. 'I wanted to know if I could take you out to lunch' he said.

'Yeah, if you can wait until I'm done, I'm all yours' said the young woman with just the slightest hesitation in her speech.

Anyone who hadn't known Hope prior to the accident wouldn't even notice the slower speech pattern but Peter did and he knew how frustrated she got when her mouth couldn't keep up with her brilliant mind.

Peter returned to perusing the art on the walls, noticing some new acquisitions - more experimental styles than when he and Neal had been running the place. It was nice to see the kids making a go of it in this brave new world.

Before long, the group of youngsters began to trickle out of the classroom and Hope finally appeared as Peter and Cameron made their way to join her.

'Hey sweetie. How did it go?' Cameron asked as he placed a kiss on the top of Hope's head.

'Great' she exclaimed, looking relaxed. 'Guess what? I've been invited out to lunch.'

'Oh, you have, have you?' Cameron said with mock annoyance. 'Explain to me how it is you get invited out to lunch and I get to stay here and keep the place running.'

'Just lucky, I guess' she answered, deadpan. 'Do you think you can handle things without me for a couple of hours? Just leave everything as it is, I'll clean up when I get back' she said, pointing to the classroom.

Cameron nodded. 'Don't overdo it at lunch, remember, we're having dinner at your parents' place tonight' he reminded her, his arm reaching out to hug her.

Hope nodded - there wasn't much of a chance she'd forget, considering her dad had already texted her twice - and left a voice message on her phone asking what she was in the mood to eat.

Cameron gazed at his beautiful wife, her thick, wavy hair piled up on top of her head with willowy wisps of soft curls escaping and framing her face. She looked amazing, especially nowadays, and he reached out, bringing his hand to rest on her round belly and giving it a loving pat.

'Make sure she doesn't have any asparagus' he said, addressing Peter as if she were a two-year old who couldn't speak for herself. 'It gives her heartburn.'

Hope rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness.

'Yes, sir' Peter said, giving him a salute. 'Don't you worry. I promise to take good care of the two of them.'

And with that, he ushered his favourite girl out the door.

TBC