Separate Lives

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Two

Emotionally and mentally exhausted from being awake for the better part of two days, especially after the rigorous round of debriefings the agents had been put through, Trixie exited the car, sent a weary wave to Jocelyn, and started up the sidewalk to her small beach house. The sun beamed brilliantly in the endless blue of the spring sky above. Shrubs and plants sprouted along the sidewalk and the front of the one-story house, a leftover from the previous owner's handiwork. Hanging baskets hung from the porch, gently swaying with the advent of a soft, light wind. Trixie had never had the interest to ferret out the names of the plants or how to take care of them. As usual, she turned a blind eye to the beauty twirling and twining its way around her house and stepped up on onto the porch that outlined the entire front of the cheerful white house.

The front door stood before her. Her feet were on the worn welcome mat she hadn't replaced in the two years she had owned the house. Absently, she stared at it, noting the swirling designs within the thick beveled glass of the window that didn't allow anyone to see inside and the dark gray color of the door which matched the shutters adorning each and every window, as well as the painted floorboards below her feet. The house, while a perfectly acceptable and nice place to reside in, had never felt like a true home to her. She merely killed time in it in-between her missions. At her personal request, she was kept extremely busy and never spent much time inactive. The constant challenge suited her, much better than the ultra quiet times at her house where the only people who ever visited were the friends she had made within the agency. Jocelyn and Max. Shane and Heidi. No one else. Deciding it was time to go in and see if anything had changed in the two months since she had been home, Trixie searched through her black carry-on bag for her keys, pulled them out with a triumphant grin after a minute of fumbling, and fit it into the lock. Once she stepped inside, she immediately turned to the small white keypad underneath a watercolor painting of a lovely rose garden framed in gold. The excellent quality of the artwork didn't register on her. Ignoring it, she punched in the security code automatically and then closed the door behind her with a satisfying click.

Silence met her. It was at moments like this when she wished she wasn't away quite as much. A dog, a cat, hell, even a goldfish would be welcome company. Anything besides the stillness that permeated throughout the house. As she always did the second she returned back from a mission, she stood in the small foyer and glanced around. The house had come completely furnished and decorated. In the time period since she had owned it, she hadn't done a thing to change anything within it. Everything with the exception of the few items she had moved in from her small apartment was in the exact same position it had been in when she had first taken possession. It had never bothered her that the elegant, fussy and feminine feel of the previous owner's wife didn't match up with her more traditional, country, and simple taste. It certainly didn't even come close to resembling the farm house she had once dreamed about living in, the entire way across the country. Her mind refused to conjure up an image of the man she had once planned on sharing the house with. Instead, she sent a dispassionate eye around the large room and thought with a sigh that she was really going to have to make it her own. Someday.

The house held a lot of promise, should she ever want to do anything with it. It had a sweeping, open floor plan where each room flowed gently into the other. The walls themselves were all the same shade. A nice, unimposing blush pink that she, who was not a big fan of pink, had never found the time or energy to change. The carpeting under her feet was white; again, not her preferred choice. And, again, just the same as it had been from the second the keys were handed over to her. The furnishing was plush and opulent, from the large, expensive sectional that dominated the living room area to the long, wide dining room table that could happily seat twelve should the occasion call for it, and on to the expensive and slightly outlandish figurines that sat upon the built-in white bookshelves. Paintings of various sizes dotted every wall. Some were watercolors depicting scenes of nature while others were photographs of famous places in the world. Passing a scene of Paris in the nighttime, she left the foyer and toed a footstool that was in the shape of a sheep. Trixie shook her head, wondering as she always did why someone on this earth would buy something like that or the matching Little Bo Peep porcelain doll staring back at her from a curio cabinet and then shrugged her shoulder. It simply didn't matter to her.

Moving on, she made it into the kitchen and dropped her bag in the doorway. Once again, it was quite large and more than she needed for the amount of cooking she ever did in the house. Stainless steel appliances stood at attention. Intricately tiled floors in pink, white and gray with a matching backsplash behind the counter greeted her. The counter gleamed with the sunlight streaming through a wall of windows that ran the entire length of one wall, allowing her to look out towards the ocean only a patio and a short walk to the beach away, and also brought out the swirls of gray within the white marble. The porcelain sink glinted from the sunlight streaming through the floral curtains while matching rugs adorned the floor. Carelessly, she passed by it without noticing and made her way to the French doors. After flipping back the lock, she threw them open and stepped out onto the stone patio, her favorite spot in the entire house, and let the warm California breeze greet her.

She leaned down, slipped out of her sandals, and crossed the patio. The stones, warmed by the sun, felt wonderful underneath her bare feet. She laid her hands on a low wall and stared out into the view her backyard offered her. It more than made up for the sheer amount of pink contained within the four walls behind her. A path she traveled well and often, one that led her to the sand and then to her own private beach, beckoned her. It amazed her to have the beach in her backyard. Grinning, she sent up another quick prayer of thanks to the wealthy businessman and his wife who she had helped on one of her missions. After she had returned their missing daughter, they had gifted her with the house. While the house wasn't one she would have picked out for herself, she couldn't argue with the price. A small giggle escaped her lips before she reluctantly resisted the pull of the beach and headed back inside.

Since her job required her to be away for long stretches of time, a cleaning service routinely took care of her home while a lawn maintenance business saw to the upkeep of her rather substantial yard. This time she noted the sparkling floors, the gleaming counters, and the streak-free windows. It always amazed her, the fact that her house was always so exceedingly clean. She wasn't there long enough to give it the fresh layer of dirt or dust to make it seem the way her house should be.

Feeling thirsty, she opened the refrigerator, which was nearly empty save for a few bottles of water and an assortment of condiments, and grabbed the bottle. Shutting it with her hip, she leaned against the pristine counter, took a healthy sip, and caught the mountain of mail waiting for her on the corner of the counter, where a member of the cleaning service routinely placed it after picking it up for her from the post office.

The sight of it made her groan. If there was one thing she hated, it was going through her mail. Most of it ended up in the shredder; some before she even opened the envelopes. "It's a good thing they invented on-line paying," she muttered aloud, which was her only saving grace. Everything was automatically taken out of her bank account. She didn't have to worry about her phone being cut off or her electricity being turned off. "The wonders of the modern world," she chuckled and meandered towards the pile.

After a large, satisfying sip, she set the bottle down and started thumbing through the mail. As it usually did, the pile of junk mail grew quickly, containing countless applications for credit cards, as well as fliers and circulars she had no intention of ever using. After placing yet another application from Mastercard off to the side, an envelope fell to the floor, creamy white in color with golden letters emblazoned across it. She knew what it was. A delighted smile bloomed across her face. She picked up the envelope, saw that it had been posted over a month ago, and took great care in opening it so as not to tear it. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she read the contents.

And the two
shall become one...
Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Wheeler
and Mr. and Mrs. Peter Belden
request the honor of your presence
at the marriage uniting their children
Madeleine Gabrielle
and
Brian Michael
as they begin their new life
together
on Saturday, the twenty-first
of April
at two o'clock in the afternoon
The Manor House
Sleepyside, New York

Trixie traced the fancy swirls, printed in a lovely shade of gold, Honey's signature color, at the top of the invitation and reread the invitation for a second time. While she certainly did not need to RSVP in the formal way, it was wonderful to have proof of the upcoming wedding in her hands. "It's going to be such a beautiful wedding," she murmured aloud, talking to herself as she often did to fill up the emptiness of the house. "Honey has been planning it for over a year now. I'm surprised Brian hasn't gone insane from all of the preparations yet." Even though she had spent more time hearing about the preparations than actively participating in them, she was almost overwhelmed by it all. Honey, or, more accurately, her mother, was pulling out all of the stops for a truly memorable day.

She reverently set down the invitation. Forgetting about the rest of the mail waiting to be sorted, she thought back to her last trip home, which had been months ago, during the Christmas holiday. It had been too short. As usual. Only four days for her, much to the chagrin of her friends and family. But it had been terrific to see everyone again, even for such a short period of time, and she was more than eager to return home. She missed them. She missed Sleepyside. She missed…everyone. Staring out through her window, overlooking the beautiful blue of the afternoon sky, the Christmas holiday flooded back to her. Honey, excited, ecstatic Honey, had not been able to talk about anything but her wedding plans, in the way that only she could, while Brian, when present, had worn that pained, almost harried look that only a future groom could wear. Di had thrown out tons of suggestions while Trixie had been content to merely listen and share twin grins of amusement with Mart. Dan had merely listened while...she derailed that train of thought quickly.

"I can't wait to see everyone again," she continued. The wedding was only nine days away. She had been able to schedule two weeks off with the Chief which meant she was going to be able to help out with all the last-minute preparations the week before the wedding. Leaving her bottle of water on the table, she absently grabbed her bag and strolled back through the house before finally stopping in her bedroom. A king size bed with wreaths of roses and chubby cupids protruding out from the white headboard and footboard nearly took up the entire room. It was much too feminine and fanciful for her. After tossing her bag on the large bed, she walked to the matching ornate dresser, again in white with the same roses decorating the attached gilded mirror, and took off the baseball cap. Blonde curls tumbled out and down past her shoulders while she contemplated the old hat with an uplifted eyebrow. It was even more tattered and worn than when Mart had given it to her the summer morning she had first left Sleepyside but she refused to leave for any trip without wearing it. Without a doubt, she viewed it as a good luck charm. She would be wearing it on the plane ride home in a few short days. With lips curving, she laid it on the top of the dresser and accidentally knocked over one of the many framed pictures she had placed there.

Picking it up, she recognized it as one of Dan from when he had received his bachelors from Syracuse a few years earlier. His graduation gown was unzipped and his mortarboard and diploma were clutched loosely in one hand. A slight grin touched his lips as he stared at the photographer. Much to her dismay, she hadn't been able to attend his graduation because hers from California University had taken place on the exact same day. The Bob-Whites hadn't been able to be present for both and had to split up. The entire Belden side had flown out to California for her while the Wheeler-Frayne-Lynch side had celebrated with Dan. Her family and friends had been stunned to learn that she had been able to complete four years of study in three. She imagined that they would be beyond stunned if they ever learned that she had never actually completed any classes beyond the fall semester of her freshman year. Instead, she had been in training for most of her 'college career' while grades were entered into the university's database for courses she had never participated in. She had gone through the motions of her graduation, all the while feeling like the world's biggest fraud. The day after her 'graduation' she had been awarded full agent status with the agency. As soon as her family had returned to New York, and without her, she had been given her first true assignment.

Refusing to feel guilty for misleading her family and friends because there simply wasn't any other option available to her, she focused on Dan before setting the wooden frame down. "I'll find out how he is doing. He always has something exciting to tell me," she said with a sparkle in her blue eyes. His plans had altered somewhat. Instead of pursuing a career as a NYC police officer, which had been his original intention, he had gained the experience necessary and then became an agent with the DEA. He never lacked for stories and more than enjoyed sharing them with Trixie. Out of all the Bob-Whites, she appreciated them the most. She was able to reciprocate with watered-down versions of her own since everyone at home believed that she worked as a private investigator for Anderson, Donnelly and Christopher and didn't have a clue about her actual job. While she wasn't overly fond of lying to her friends and family, she wasn't left with another choice. It was a requirement, a very strict one that she had promised not to break. Amazingly enough, she had never broken it. No one had ever suspected anything different than what she presented to them.

She picked up a picture taken last May of Mart and Di. Both were dressed in wedding finery; Mart in a traditional black-and-white tuxedo and Di in a bright white wedding dress sparkling with countless beads and pearls. Tiny violet flowers were embroidered in her gown. Her long black hair cascaded beautifully down her back, covered by a long, wispy white veil. "Then Mart will tell me about his job. He enjoys working as a newscaster for our local television station and always has a ton of interesting stories to share." She shook her head, thinking about her older brother and how he had decided to pursue a career in journalism over agriculture. It fit him, more than she had ever thought possible, most likely because it combined his love of words with his love of Sleepyside.

"Di will then have to break in with a story about married life with Mart." She gave an exaggerated shudder, wondering how anyone on earth could possibly enjoy being married to her most irritating brother, and chuckled lowly. Mart still had the extraordinary gift of rubbing her the wrong way. Even with the fact that an entire continent existed between them, the trait hadn't diminished. She studied the picture closely and swallowed a sigh. The happiness exuding from the couple was positively contagious. It was almost tangible. Choosing not to admit the thread of envy that wanted to work its way through her, she thought about Di. Her friend hadn't veered from her chosen path. "Not only will she share some interesting anecdotes about living with Mart, she'll also tell me how much she enjoys working as an assistant to the curator at the museum in town."

Her fingers slid to the next picture, the one that held the engagement picture of her brother and her best friend, taken in the gorgeous gardens at the Manor House where their wedding would take place in a little over a week. Beautiful bushes of white, red and pink roses served as the background while morning glories wrapped over and around the brightly painted white arbor. They were another obviously happy couple, blatantly in love, and more than ready to begin their life together. She couldn't have been happier for her brothers. They both had managed to find their perfect match, right in their own backyards. "Brian's excited about completing his residency in Sleepyside. He was really lucky that they accepted him. It's a good thing Dr. Ferris encouraged it with the hospital board and took him under his wing." She knew that Dr. Ferris was hoping Brian would take over his practice when he retired in a few years.

Honey was the last of the Bob-Whites who had returned to Sleepyside after completing her schooling. Trixie stared into the smiling face of her best friend and murmured, "She loves working as an occupational therapist at the hospital." Her schedule was hectic but she always managed to find time for her fiancé, her friends, and her family. And she always did it with a welcoming smile on her face. Her job was fulfilling, challenging and 'perfectly perfect' for her, as she was apt to describe it. She had told Trixie on more than one occasion that she loved being able to watch the progress of each and every patient. Plus she enjoyed working at the same place as her fiancé, she would add with a twinkle to her hazel eyes. It made Trixie smile with appreciation.

The next picture carried the entire Belden family, herself included, with an aging Reddy at her feet, from the front yard of Crabapple Farm. Bobby, as the newest and last high school graduate, stood in the center, while the rest of his family flanked him. "I'm so proud of you, Bobby," she said, thinking of how he was in his first year at Columbia, where he was pursuing a major in computer programming. A gamer to the core, it was his desire to invent new games. Sometimes she had trouble getting beyond the fact that he wasn't the cherubic-looking six-year old with the soul of a trouble-maker anymore.

She nearly skipped the last picture, the one that was at the edge of her dresser. Part of it, the far right side, was hidden behind a nearly empty jewelry box that her Aunt Alicia had given her last Christmas but she couldn't overlook it, no matter how much she wanted to. Trixie took a deep breath, almost wishing she could face down another rogue agent instead of looking at the picture, and, with hands that she refused to let tremble, picked it up. It was an exclusive; a Bob-White picture, taken the night of the rehearsal dinner before Mart and Di's wedding last May. All seven of them were dressed up and were at the Lynch estate, standing on the stone patio out in the backyard. A lovely sunset in pinks and violets served as their background. She skimmed over the faces, starting with her own on the left side of the picture, until she passed over the rest and landed on the redhead on the opposite side, as far away from her as he could possibly be. The distance in the photograph was a fitting description for the status of their current relationship, if that was the correct term for what they had together anymore. When they were together, they were always friendly and polite, but they never actively searched the other out; not for a phone call, an email, a letter or a simple face-to-face conversation. When fate intervened and put them in the same place at the same time, and alone, both worked as hard as they could to leave the other without too much interaction. Cool, reserved, and merely going through the motions. Even after nearly seven years of having such an untenable chasm residing between them, the pain had never diminished. It reared its ugly head anytime she opened her mind and heart to him, as well as to the different choices they had made since that awful summer night. She hastily pushed aside any sentimental or regretful thoughts of him.

Instead, she concentrated on facts, exactly as she had been trained to do, and overlooked her emotions. Like her, Jim was another one who hadn't moved back to Sleepyside after completing his studies, although he was much closer to home than she was. According to both Honey and Di, who were the only two who ever brought him up to her on a consistent basis, he lived in a lovely apartment in the city, close to Wheeler & Hart, International, where he worked as a corporate lawyer for his parents' business. Not surprising, he excelled at his job, putting in more hours than necessary and proving to one and all that he had earned the job on his merit, not merely on his heritage. She had even heard rumblings from Honey that their father had offered Jim the chance to take over the company when he was ready to retire. Despite the fact that he was succeeding admirably, his choice to work in the business world didn't seem right to her, had never felt right to her, but she had never been able to question him about it again. In her opinion, and she was certain in his, too, the distance between them had become insurmountable to the point where it couldn't be breached. Not by a damn thing. Tears sparkled briefly in her eyes before she willed them away. She wasn't going down that broken road again. She couldn't; not if she wanted to retain control of her sanity.

To make matters worse for her, she was Honey's maid of honor, as had been decided that long-ago night during a sleepover at Di's house when she and Jim had still been an official couple, and well before most of the plans Trixie had created for herself had been blown to pieces. The girls had discovered during the beginning stages of planning for Di and Mart's wedding that the male Bob-Whites had devised their own system for choosing their best men a long time ago. Since there were four men, they had decided to pair up with the one nearest their age. Which meant Dan had been Mart's best man last May and…Her nose crinkled in consternation, wondering how the hell she was going to get through next week. At least she had her training to fall back on, she thought with a philosophical sigh and admitted aloud, "I get to be partnered with Jim."

She closed her eyes tightly, imagining how difficult it was going to be. The photo ops with Jim by her side were enough to make her want to hide out in her old bedroom at Crabapple Farm for the duration of her vacation but the thought of walking down the aisle on his arm and dancing with him at the reception for the first dance made her positively want to fade away into nothingness. There would also be the interested and speculative whispering behind their hands as guests wondered what had happened between them years ago. She hated being the object of gossip but there wasn't anything she could do about it. She may work for the most prestigious, secretive and powerful law enforcement agency in the world but her years of experience meant nothing when facing one James Winthrop Frayne, II.

Because she wanted to drop the picture like it was a hot coal, she took a much longer amount of time and carefully arranged it behind the jewelry box before turning away from her dresser. Biting her lip, doing the best she could do not to think about him, she studied the room and caught her bag, lying on her bed. Unpacking would keep her busy. She had almost reached it when her cell phone gave out its cheerful chirp. A phone call was even better than going through her bag. Rummaging, she pulled it out and answered with an almost desperate gratitude. "Hello?"

"Hey, Trix!" Honey chirped out merrily on the other end. She switched off her car radio and pulled out onto Main Street, heading home after a long shift at the hospital. She only had to face Friday before she would be off for three blissful weeks. The first week of her vacation was strictly for wedding preparations. The other two weeks…she sighed dreamily. Her honeymoon in Antigua, with the most handsome man in the entire world. She could hardly wait. Clearing her throat, she shared, "I finished up work a few minutes ago and am on my way home. It's been a while since we've actually talked. I don't know about you but I'm sick of communicating through emails and texts."

"I hear you." Trixie closed her eyes, thought about the recent missions that had kept her from keeping in better touch with the Sleepyside connection, and felt her cheeks flood with embarrassment.

"So I thought I'd check in with you and see how everything is going." Honey chewed on her bottom lip. Part of her was worried that Trixie would be called away on an assignment and wouldn't be able to come home in time to help with the preparations. Unsure how to bring it up without offending her best friend, she added, "I want to make certain everyone goes perfectly perfect for my wedding."

"Knowing you, it will. There's not a single doubt in my mind." Trixie cradled the cell phone against her ear and reached into her closet. She laid out her running sneakers and then started pawing through her dresser drawers. A pair of mesh shorts, a faded gray T-shirt, a pair of white socks, and a black sports bra landed on her bed. Last, she grabbed her iPod from its spot on a nearby table and placed it on the bed. When she had everything ready for a run along the beach, she sank onto the white cover splashed with overly big pink roses and declared, "It will be perfect, Honey. Neither you, your mother, my mother, or your wedding planner will allow anything less."

"Miss Trask has been a dear, hasn't she?" Honey remarked, giggling. Her former governess who had broken off from the Wheelers a few years ago and had decided to launch her own small but thriving wedding planning business. Both Honey and Di had employed her almost the exact second after they had become engaged, knowing full well that she would see to it that their weddings would be everything that they had ever dreamed about. "I'm so excited, Trixie. I only wish that you were here right now."

"It won't be too long before I'm home," Trixie replied. Standing up, she slipped off her worn blue jeans and stepped into her shorts. Then she sat back on the bed and put on her socks. "I'm set to arrive on Monday. I've got a few things to finish up with a case I've finished. Then you've got me for the rest of the week."

Monday. Her biggest worry abated, Honey leaned back against her seat and smiled. "What have you been working on?" she wondered curiously. She hit the red light in the center of town, the one that seemed to always take an extremely large amount of time before it turned green. Despite the fact that many people had complained about it to the mayor over the years, it had never been fixed. She waited as patiently as she could.

Trixie ran through the items she needed to do before catching her flight early Monday morning. She had to meet with the Chief again, go over her account of the last mission for the third time, and then she had to help decode the disk she had copied from the warehouse's computer. She also hoped to be briefed further on Shane's condition. Other than the fact that he was out of immediate danger, she hadn't heard much. Keeping her fingers crossed, she prayed he would make it through his recovery with flying colors. She swallowed a groan at the thought of another debriefing, hating that she had to through everything again. It was necessary considering the fact that one of their own had turned against them. Chief Ogilvie was insisting on keeping a tighter rein on all of his agents right now. It was imperative that they check in with him. Unfortunately, as intriguing and interesting as her job was, it was absolutely nothing she could share with her best friend. Despising the need to lie, she offered, sidestepping the issue as delicately as she could, "It's a rather complicated case, Honey. I can't go into the specifics with anyone outside of the agency. I'm sorry."

Honey felt a pang of remorse. It was the same patented answer Trixie gave any time one of them questioned her about her job. She never offered them much information. Never. As much as Honey knew that it was her own choice and her own doing, there were still times, like now, when she wished she was her best friend's partner. It seemed that being a detective never truly left one's blood, especially when conversing with her partner. "I know, Trixie," she answered after a long moment. The rude honk of a horn behind her let her know that it was time to get moving. She jerked forward. The cranberry red Lexus shot through the intersection quicker than she had intended. Ignoring the melancholy, she said, knowing that she wouldn't change her decision if she was able to travel back in time anyway, "Well, Trix, we're all looking forward to you coming home again. It's been too long."

It had been. Over three months. There always seemed to be a significant amount of time between her visits home. Luckily, she rarely missed out on a significant family or Bob-White event. It was something she insisted upon and something that Chief Ogilvie allowed, somehow understanding that she would leave the agency if she wasn't allowed to have as much contact as she could with her home life. There had only been one event she hadn't been able to make it home for. Unconsciously, she rubbed her ribcage and the small scar under it. Some things couldn't be prevented. "Did you get the measurements I emailed you?" Trixie questioned, dropping her hand from her ribs.

"Hmm….mmm," Honey answered, twisting a strand of her honey-colored hair around a manicured finger and drove competently through the small town of Sleepyside. "But it doesn't get you off the hook, Trixie Belden. You will still have to stand and be fitted for the last time, just like the rest of us in the wedding party. I have our final fittings planned for Tuesday. That will give the seamstresses enough time to make any alterations and press the dresses before we get to wear them on Saturday."

The joy of being fitted couldn't be rivaled, she thought with a sarcastic snort. It had taken forever to be fitted into her violet bridesmaid's dress for Di's wedding. She wasn't looking forward to a repeat performance. Trixie rolled her eyes and played idly with the hem of her cotton T-shirt. If she ever got married she figured she would let her attendants pick whatever they wanted to wear and to hell with the formal attire, fittings, and stiff hairstyles. "Can't wait," she replied dryly.

"I know. I remember how excited you were last May." Honey chuckled at the memory. Trixie had spent most of the afternoon being fitted with an almost agonized expression on her face that had caused Honey, Di, and the two female Lynch twins to erupt into gales of unsuppressed laughter. Well aware of the fact that standing still for long periods of time wasn't her maid of honor's strong suit, Honey was prepared for a similar reaction. She was looking forward to it. It would help alleviate some of the stress.

She slashed a hand through the air, needing to call a halt to a discussion about the shimmery gold dress she would be donning in nine days. "Enough talk about the dresses, Honey. Let's talk about something more exciting. What are the plans for the week?" She leaned her side against the bed post and smiled, wondering what her friend had planned for them.

"Oh, nothing too bad," Honey hastened to assure her. "I want us to get together as much as we can, though. As the upcoming bride, my wishes do take precedence over any others, don't you know."

Trixie giggled, a low, girlish one, and wrapped her free hand around the white post. "That's the way it should be, Honey. You're calling the shots, just like Di did last May."

"I'm hoping." Honey covered her stomach with a nervous hand. Anytime she really, really, really started to think about the upcoming day and all of the things that could possibly go wrong, her stomach started to get tied up in knots. Keeping busy was the best way for her to stay sane and focused. "You know the roll call, right?"

"No, actually, I don't." She thought back to the invitation that she had recently been able to open and felt a spear of guilt shoot through her. She hadn't been great at keeping in contact with anyone since December. Fighting the urge to grimace, she admitted, "It's been awhile since I've been in contact with everyone. Why don't you fill me in?"

"All right. I will." She came to the stop sign and took the right onto Glen Road. Familiar scenes rolled by, all decked out in the gorgeous beginnings of spring glory. "As the low man on the totem pole at the station, Mart wasn't able to get the entire week off. He has to work on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Day shift, though. We'll have him in the evenings."

"It may be good for my sanity that Mart won't be underfoot the entire week," Trixie replied, straight-faced.

Honey laughed delightedly before continuing on, "Di was a little luckier. She has all but Thursday off next week. The museum is receiving a shipment. She can't miss it. I think it's some kind of Egyptian display or something along those lines." She sighed before admitting, "I'm not certain. For some reason I haven't been paying too close attention when someone is talking about something else besides my wedding."

"I can't imagine why," Trixie shot back, tongue in cheek, earning another round of giggles from her best friend and soon-to-be sister in-law.

"I hear you." Honey shook her shoulder-length hair, her lovely eyes lighting up with amusement at her own expense. "On to the rest of the Bob-Whites…You already know that Brian's residency at the hospital decided our wedding date. April or May were the perfect months for him to take some time off. Most of the doctors like to have their vacation in the summer so the summer was out. I suppose we could have settled for a fall wedding but that was too far away for my taste." When Brian had presented a spring or fall wedding to her, she had jumped on the first choice. Spring had always been one of her favorite seasons. "He has to work tonight, tomorrow and Saturday. He has Sunday off and then has to do three more day shifts, which means Wednesday is his last day at work. After that, he won't have to report back until we return from our honeymoon."

The dreamy quality in Honey's voice was crystal clear. Trixie recognized it despite the fact that there were numerous states between them. "Does it bother you that Brian has to work so much the week before your wedding?" Trixie wondered aloud.

"Oh, no," Honey quickly assured her with another tinkling laugh. "It's probably for the best when I think about it. I'll be hip-deep in wedding preparations that he doesn't care as much about. It'll be better for him to focus on his doctoring…stuff, I guess."

Trixie bit back a chuckle at Honey's less-than-medically-accurate description of Brian's job and internally agreed with her. Brian would rather focus his attention on caring for his patients instead of pouring over the seating plan at the reception or the play list for the band. Staring at the picture of Dan on her dresser, she inquired, "What about Dan? When will he be home?"

"Dan took some vacation time he had coming from the DEA, just like you. He'll be driving in from the city on Saturday to spend the whole week with us." Suddenly the smile slid off her face. Honey hesitated only a moment before she gripped the steering wheel. Hating to do it, she rushed on, knowing that Trixie would cringe when she brought up her adopted brother but needing to tell her when he would come home, "And Jim took the entire week off, too. He's coming home tomorrow night. So, when you come home on Monday, we'll have everyone together again in Sleepyside for the first time since the holidays. And that's when all of the fun stuff starts." Chewing off her lip gloss, she waited for Trixie's reaction.

Her traitorous heart flip-flopped at his name, as it always did in spite of her best intentions not to let it affect her. Not a single word Honey voiced after it sank in. All she heard was Jim. She schooled her features, knew that she couldn't be stupid enough to wear her tattered and ragged heart on her sleeve, and did her best to overlook the mention of Honey's brother. She only got away with it because Honey couldn't see her face. "Tell me about the 'fun stuff'," she insisted in an overly bright voice.

"Oh, the usual," Honey answered with a wave of her hand and sighed to herself. She didn't need to see Trixie's face to know that her friend had frozen up, as she always did when Jim was mentioned. Jim and Trixie were proving to be two stubborn, pigheaded people and were driving her, as well as the others, absolutely, positively crazy. They didn't seem to want to mend the breach that existed between them. It had taken a while but she had seen through their masquerade they had started during one of their Bob-White holiday movie nights, as had the rest of their friends. They were almost friendly with each other; almost. She couldn't call it friendly, not with a good conscience. They were both too stilted, too stiff, and too stringent in their attempt to appear friendly and relaxed. Once she had realized what they were doing, her first instinct had been to force the two of them together in hopes of getting them to talk their problems out, with Di as a more than willing accomplice. However, they had met two fierce and unyielding roadblocks in their aborted endeavor. At Brian and Mart's insistence, she and Di were reluctantly talked into giving up their ideas to place peacemaker between the two. Instead, Trixie and Jim had been left to flounder on their own. Flounder, they had. It would be seven years in June, she thought to herself.

"What's the usual?" Trixie didn't need to hear Honey's answer. She already knew. Picnics, parties, sleepovers, horse rides, shopping trips…any or all of them would be more than acceptable. It sounded absolutely wonderful to her and a relief after the stress caused by her last mission. Home was calling out to her so badly. She needed it.

Honey drove past Lynch's Little Country Store. Her eyes scanned the store that didn't even come close to resembling the small one that Mr. Lytell had run for many years along the Glen Road. The title Di's father had given the store didn't fit it anymore. The building had been expanded, as had the parking lot, which always had vehicles parked in it. The store had done so well that Mr. Lynch had set up two more just like it in neighboring towns. "You know us, Trix. We're going to get together as much as we can. It's so rare that all seven of us are home at the same time anymore. There will definitely be meals, maybe even a sleepover if we can manage it, and, of course, lots and lots of wedding stuff. You and Di have the ultra-serious job of making certain that I don't have a nervous breakdown and end up in the insane asylum before I walk down that aisle, all right?"

Trixie's giggle sounded girlish, more like her fourteen-year old self instead of the almost twenty-five that she was. "I promise, Honey," she said. "I can speak for Di, too, since she's my sister-in-law and now a full member of the Belden clan, even if she did have the misfortune to marry the most annoying one of us all." Honey's answering laugh on the other end made her grin impishly. "We'll take care of you, Miss Wheeler, soon to be Mrs. Belden. You have my solemn vow and promise."

"I accept, Miss Belden, and I will most certainly hold you to it." Smiling again, Honey turned up the long, steep driveway that led to the Manor House and pulled her car into its spot. She cut the engine with a flick of her wrist and said regretfully, "I'm home, Trix, and I'm tired. I'm going to head in, eat dinner, and take a long shower, but not necessarily in that order. Take care and have a safe flight home. I'll see you on Monday when you get to Sleepyside. I can't wait, Trix. It's been too long."

Trixie echoed her farewells and hung up the phone. She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, swinging her legs, and picturing the upcoming week in her mind. It promised to be full of fun, laughter, and memorable times. There was only that one small, tiny issue she would have to overcome...Tossing her head back, putting him on the backburner, she pushed herself off the bed with a defiant huff and finished getting ready for a run on the beach. When her hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, she clipped her cell phone and her iPod to her shorts. With long strides, she exited through the kitchen door, and, since she had become cautious, locked the French doors behind her. Warming up, she stretched for a few minutes on her patio before following the path that brought her to beach. When she reached the beach, she stood on the sand and took the time to marvel at the waves rolling in and out. Last, she slipped her ear buds in, clicked her favorite playlist and turned up her iPod louder than she should. Another set of last-minute stretches and she was off. With the voice of Marky Mark and his Funky Bunch singing in her ears, she set off at a good clip, her feet slapping rhythmically against the soft sand. It wasn't long before she was lost in motion of the run, where thoughts of defective agents, deadly showdowns, and lost soulmates couldn't touch her anymore.