Day Twelve (Tuesday)

Just after midnight the phone rang. "'lo?" Scott asked sleepily.

"You said you were going to call me right back," Kay said coldly. "I've been waiting here for hours.

Scott winced. "I'm sorry, Mom. I meant to call you, I really did … I got kinda distracted." Beside him, Becky rolled closer and half-distracted him all over again.

"I can imagine," Kay said disdainfully.

He wanted to argue, but she wasn't wrong. "Sorry, Mom."

"I hope you've thought about what I said," Kay continued. "I know you're very attached to this young woman, but an opportunity like this …"

"We're getting married," Scott announced.

There was a long, long pause. Becky shifted closer, and Scott held her very tightly. Finally, Kay said, quietly, "I don't suppose there's any talking you out of this."

"No," Scott answered, just as quietly.

"I think it's a mistake, Scott."

"I know you do. But you're wrong."

"I see." There was another lengthy silence. Then, "I'll come into the city for dinner tomorrow and we'll start making the arrangements."

"Uh … okay. There's not much to arrange, though. It's going to have to be pretty simple. To get it done in two weeks.""

"Oh. Oh, Scott."

"Mom," Scott protested, hearing the tears in her voice. "Don't do that. It's not fair."

She sniffed audibly. "I'm just a little … overcome, that's all. You caught me be surprise. I'll be all right."

"I love you, Mom."

"You have your father's way of showing it."

She hung up on him.

"Scott?" Becky said quietly.

He kissed her forehead. "It'll be okay," he promised. And then, to reassure himself, he said it again. "It'll be okay."

"Oh, yes," Robert McCall said, with a great deal more certainty, as the sun came up. "It will be just fine." He found it disconcerting that both his son and his future daughter-in-law were visibly relieved by his pronouncement. "If all you want is a civil ceremony, it's rather simple. Get the license, find someone to officiate, have a bit of tea after, perhaps." He glanced at Scott. "Wear a decent suit."

"Yes, Dad." The boy added, "Uh … I need a new tux. For the tour."

Robert closed his eyes briefly. "I suppose you're done growing now. I'll take you to Madam Olga."

"Oh, good. I was afraid you'd send me back to Heath."

"Madam Olga is Heath's mother," Robert pronounced with some relish. "And men with arms and training are known to be terrified of her. Myself included. But she will make you a tuxedo that fits, I can promise you that. We should go right away, though. When do you get back from rehearsal?"

"We're supposed to be done at three. So, four-ish."

"Kay's coming for dinner at six," Becky said quietly.

McCall scowled. "Is she. Well, I suppose that can't be helped. I'll call Madam Olga and see if she can see you then." He paused, reflecting. "She's always quite busy, but she does owe me a favor. Or two."

"What about a passport?" Scott asked. "For Becky?"

"Call Romanov. Let her take care of that."

"I'll call her," Becky said. She stood and poured Robert another cup of coffee. It was strong and hot, the way he liked it. The way this ungodly hour of the morning demanded. "Maybe I can get her to go shopping with me."

"I'm sure she'd be delighted," Robert said.

"She did say she'd help with anything we needed," Scott said carefully. "She acted like she's got nothing to do."

"Does she, now?" Robert mused. "I would have thought … well, no matter. Absolutely, ask her to shop with you. And anything else you need. She has impeccable taste and extensive contacts. If she's volunteered to help, let her."

"I thought you and she weren't …" Scott caught himself. "I thought you were fighting."

McCall considered, sipping his blissfully hot coffee. "We've patched up our differences."

"Good."

"But, Scott." He chose his next words with great care. "To obtain a passport, to socialize with her, that's all well and good. If your life is ever on the line – if you're ever in danger – " He stopped again. "You can trust Lily, to some degree. But never forget that she is ultimately a creature of the Company. Her first loyalty will always lie with Control. Always."

"With Control or with the Company?" Becky asked quietly.

Robert studied her. She was quiet, and it was easy to think she wasn't bright. But Becky Baker was a keen observer of the people around her – and psychic as well. It was really quite astounding that she hadn't gleaned the Great Secret yet. "Control first," he answered honestly. "Company second."

Scott shifted uneasily. "Well, I don't really think anybody's going to die over this simple little wedding."

"From your lips, son," McCall said earnestly. "All right. You need to be on your way. I'll call Madam Olga. Becky can call Lily. I suppose the next thing is to decide on a date. But it's best if we let your mother have some input on that, I suppose."

"Please come to dinner," Becky said.

"Ahh …" Robert answered. He looked into her big brown slightly frightened eyes and folded. "Six. I'll be here. But we should go out somewhere to dinner."

"I thought I'd cook."

McCall shook his head. "You want to have the option to leave."

"You think she'll be that bad?" Scott asked.

"I don't know. I just believe in leaving options open."

Scott nodded. "We will. But this will be okay. It'll be okay."

"Scott says you can get me a passport in two weeks."

Lily nodded, her mouth full of cinnamon roll. "You need it?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Becky smiled nervously. "I also need a marriage license."

"Hmm." If the older woman was surprised, she didn't show it. "Also in two weeks?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Lily wiped her mouth. "What kind of wedding do you have in mind?"

"Small," Becky said firmly. "Simple. Just a civil ceremony, maybe a little … I don't know, Robert says like a tea?"

Lily nodded again. "I'll handle the paperwork. Let me know what else I can do."

"Okay."

"Seriously. I have the time off and absolutely nothing to do."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You want to go shopping?"

"Now?"

"Yes."

Lily nodded. "Can I take cinnamon rolls along?"

"Help yourself."

The music was tough, and Scott felt achingly out of practice. He was seated last chair, which he'd expected. With the first chair gone, everyone else – all three of them – had moved up one. There was a time when he would have resented being last. But after the second hour, when he could barely keep his violin under his chin, he was glad for the lowered expectations.

He was glad to be busy, too. In those few slack moments, he remembered that they were all having dinner with his mother. And that his mother was not at all happy about his impending wedding.

Although – she had seemed to accept it, hadn't she? She'd sounded resigned on the phone. Maybe dinner wouldn't be that bad.

He sighed. He was kidding himself. It was going to be awful.

He focused on the music again.

It was a funny little resale shop, narrow and deep, with barred windows over faded 'Sale' signs. Becky had walked by it a hundred times, but she had never thought to stop in on her own. Lily, however, seemed to feel right at home there. "They have great stuff," she said confidently.

There was a vast, unshaven man in a dirty white t-shirt behind the register, reading a tabloid. He glanced up at them, grunted once, and ignored them.

"I only shop here for an ambience," Lily said.

There were hanging racks full of jeans on the wall, three high, over fifteen feet, and bent metal poles to reach the higher ones down with. On the floor, wobbly round racks were crammed with dresses and skirts and clothes of all varieties. Becky picked at a dark blue dress nervously. To her surprise, it was lovely. "This is brand new," she said in surprise.

Lily nodded. "Everything in here is brand new. And it's always cheap. If I were the suspicious sort, I'd wonder why."

"Oh."

The dress was her size and cost five dollars. "That's one."

They found one more dress and three skirts, four tops and two pairs of jeans. They found dress shoes. They found jeans for Scott, and remarkably, shirts that would fit him. Lily acquired a pile of her own selections. They spent, between them, less than an hour and under a hundred dollars. Cash only, of course.

The man at the register spoke no English, and didn't seem to know any words longer than one syllable.

"That was easy," Becky said, rather breathlessly, when they were on the sidewalk again.

Lily nodded. "Hope all the rest of your planning goes as well. Let's go get some pictures taken."

"Pictures?"

"For your passport."

"Oh. Okay."

Lily knew, of course, exactly where to go.

At the back door of Heath's shop, Scott climbed out of the Jaguar and swayed lightly. He wondered if his father and Mickey had contests to see who could be the more nerve-wracking driver.

"Do we have to go here?" he asked quietly.

Robert looked over the car at him. "I'm afraid we do," he said uncertainly. He tugged at his cuffs, straightened his tie. "Yes. We do."

It did not reassure Scott that his father was visibly anxious.

Heath let them in. "Ah, you're back!" he said warmly. "You got the job, of course."

"Yes," Scott answered. "Thank you."

"I knew you would. Dressed like that, how could you not. You've ditched the bitch, I see. Let's try those pastels now."

"No pastels," Robert said sternly. "We're here to see Madam Olga."

Heath paused. "Oh. Formal wear. I see." His manner was suddenly solemn. He dropped back, gestured to a small door. "You know the way."

"Thank you." Robert opened the door and gestured for Scott to go first up the narrow stairs beyond.

He went, hesitantly, until he was sure his father was behind him. At the top was another door. Scott hesitated. "Should I knock?"

"No," Robert said cautiously. "She's knows we're coming."

They looked at each other, crowded in the dark stairway. Scott had no idea why his father was so stressed about meeting with a seamstress, but he suddenly wished he had a gun. And he was glad that Robert did. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door.

The room was the same size as the shop below, but mostly empty and dim. Against the walls, dark racks of coats and pants. In the center, a square platform. Beyond, backlit by the windows, in a large armchair, was the outline of a small woman.

"Madam Olga?" Robert called quietly.

The woman was motionless. "So you've returned at last," she said, her voice low and cracking with age.

"I've brought my son," Robert answered solemnly. "He needs a tuxedo."

"He's done growing? I won't waste my time with growing boys. Outgrow their clothes before they're even stitched."

"Yes, Madam Olga."

The woman rose slowly, leaning heavily on a stick. Standing, she was not five foot tall. She creaked towards them.

When she reached the center of the room, she suddenly rapped her stick sharply on the floor three times. The room flared instantly with glaring light, making Scott flinch and cover his eyes. When he could see again, the little woman was swarming around him, her stick no longer crutch but pointer.

"Put your hands down," she ordered sharply. "Stand up straight."

He could not help but obey.

"You," she barked at Robert, "get back, get back. Out of my light."

Scott almost grinned when he noted that his father was as obedient as he had been. But the grin died when the old woman's attention turned back to him. "Straight, I said," she snapped. She cracked his heel with her stick and he found another level of posture. She circled him quickly, left to right. Then she turned and walked back the other way, slowly. "Dresses left, does he? Gets that from his mother's side."

Scott forcefully resisted the urge to cover his privates with his hands. If he moved, he was certain she'd crack him again.

"Well," Madam Olga finally pronounced, "he's built well enough. I can dress him. Strip."

Scott blinked at her. "Huh?"

This time the stick caught the back of his knee. "Are you deaf, child? Strip. Out of those clothes. I can't very well measure through them, now can I? Off, off. Strip!"

Scott looked panic-stricken at his father.

"Do it," Robert advised grimly.

In cold fear, with one eye on the stick, Scott began to peel off his clothes.

In his clothes again and in the car, Scott wrapped his arms protectively over his chest.

"Are you all right?" Robert asked.

"Yes."

"Glove compartment."

"Hmm?"

"Open the glove compartment."

Scott did. There was, among other things, a slender silver flask. He brought it out, glanced at his father. "This?"

"Yes."

He unscrewed the cap and held it out to his father.

Robert glanced at him. "It's for you, son."

"Oh." Scott took a deep breath, and then a deep drink. It burned all the way down. And then it turned warm within him. "Oh."

"Have another. Then put it away. The box is for you, too."

"Okay." Scott drank again. Then he put the flask away and found the small jewelry box. He looked at the ring inside, the ring that had been his mother's and his grandmother's. "Oh." He put it in his pocket, then sat back and closed his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."

"Feel better?"

"Yes."

"Good." Robert sighed. "Let's go see your mother."

"Well," Kay said, when drinks and appetizers had been ordered, "I don't suppose there's really much point to this dinner. I'm sure you've made up your mind about everything."

"N-No," Becky answered. "Scott's been at rehearsal all day and we haven't had time. A-and we wanted to hear your ideas before we set anything."

She shot a nervous glance at Robert. He barely nodded, his eyes reassuring. They had had, he and his daughter-to-be, a small coaching session that afternoon.

"Oh." Kay's manner thawed, just a notch. "Well. I suppose we'd better start with a date then."

"It almost has to be a week from Saturday," Scott said. "Or sooner."

"Maybe the Friday," Becky offered.

"Oh, Friday weddings always seem so rushed," Kay countered. "People coming in after work, or having to take the day off. It's just rude."

The young man nodded. "Saturday, then."

The drinks came, and Kay produced a small notebook from her purse. She fumbled for a moment, and her husband, Walter, produced a pen without a word.

Robert sighed quietly. This was going to be a bloodbath.

"What?" Kay demanded.

"Nothing," he said innocently.

"You sighed."

"Oh. Just, uh, the Scotch. It's very good."

Kay eyed him suspiciously, then turned to Becky. "I don't know what kind of a hall we'll be able to get on this much notice."

"W-we weren't really thinking we'd g-get a h-hall," she stammered. "Just a little, uh, a little reception, m-maybe here?"

Kay looked around Pete O'Phelan's Place with undisguised dismay. "Here?"

"Why not?" Scott asked.

"Yes," Robert rumbled mildly, "why not, Kay?"

"Well, but it's just so … I mean, really, a reception in a bar? It's so common."

Becky actually flinched. "J-just tea and coffee," she said. "Maybe a little cake."

Kay sighed. "And a church? You'll never get a church this soon, they'll be booked a year ahead. Not that Scott's been to church since he left home, but honestly … you don't have a church either, do you?"

"I do," Becky said. "But they already have a wedding scheduled."

Kay sighed. "I really think we should just postpone this whole affair. It's not as if there really needs to be this great hurry – does there?"

Becky looked at her blankly.

"No," Scott said quickly.

"Well, then. We need to just put this wedding off and take some time to plan it, and then when Scott gets back from his tour …"

"No," Scott said firmly.

Robert nodded to himself. He had hoped the boy would stand up to her. Now, hopefully, he would stick to his guns.

"Now, Scott …" Kay began.

"I'm not going on tour without Becky. And you were the one who said we should get married first."

"Well." Kay sat back and sipped her drink. "Well."

"We just want a small civil ceremony," Becky said. "And then just a coffee."

"Yes," Kay answered coldly. "You said that."

An uneasy silence settled over the table. The waiter brought several plates of appetizers, opened his mouth to banter a bit, then thought better of it and went away.

"Well," Kay finally said. "If that the case, I just don't see how I can invite much family. Your aunt and uncle, Scott, I can't see them coming all the way into the city for a piece of cake."

"I don't expect them to," Scott answered.

"And of course there's Dorothy and Dave, they'll just be heartbroken not to be invited, but honestly, I can't expect …"

Here is comes, Robert thought, and on cue his ex-wife began to cry.

"Mom …" Scott said.

Kay grabbed her napkin and dabbed her eyes. "No, don't," she answered. "Don't worry about it. I understand you're a grown man, you have to make your own decisions. It's just that I had some hopes, you know, to see my son married in a church, with flowers and candles and all our friends around … but I suppose the world just doesn't work that way any more."

McCall felt his back stiffen with anger. He barely, barely bit back an argument. This was Scott's fight; it had to be. But he could see his son folding.

Scott and Becky shared a long look. "I-I could ask," Becky finally said, "about the church. I don't know if t-they could have a second wedding, l-late in the day, m-maybe."

"Flowers," Scott conceded glumly. "Candles."

Robert sighed. "I know some people who would be willing to help."

"Lily," Becky said quickly. "She said she had free time. She'll help us."

Kay sat up very straight. "Oh, yes," she said with a perceptible chill. "Scott said she was a friend of yours." She very deliberately did not look at her ex-husband.

"She's very good at arranging things," Robert offered sweetly. "I'm sure she'd be a great … asset."

Kay did glare at him then. Then she snapped her attention back to Becky. "If you're having a late wedding, we'll have to have something more substantial than tea. There will need to be a dinner."

"W-we can't afford that," Becky blurted.

"And there isn't time, anyhow," Scott added quickly.

"Well, then." Kay sighed heavily. "I suppose you might as well just elope, as have some sort of half-baked event. I just think this whole thing could wait."

Robert growled softly but did not speak. Come on, Scott, he urged silently. Put a stop to this right now.

The boy said, "What if we had a small wedding now and a big reception when we get back?"

"Oh, Lord, no," Kay answered. "That would just be blatantly fishing for presents. No, no, no." She sighed again. "Can't your family help with any of this?" she demanded of Becky.

"I-I-I don't have any family."

"None at all?"

"None at all," Robert barked. "But if you are determined to have your way with this wedding … I suppose I could cover the expense. Within reason."

"Y-you don't have to …"

"Dad, you can't …"

"Of course he can," Kay said. "He has investments, didn't he tell you?"

An ugly silence settled over the table.

"I don't mind, really," Robert said, to his son and his fiancée. "So long as you have the kind of wedding you want, it will be my pleasure." And then, because he couldn't resist, he added, "I'm sure Lily can locate some wonderful bargains, anyhow."

"Bargains," Kay stuttered. "This is your only child's wedding, Robert. Do we really have to look for bargains?"

"Yes," Becky said quietly.

Robert met Scott's eyes. The boy understood. They did need Lily for her organizational abilities. But far more, they needed her as cover for Becky. Scott barely nodded.

"All right," Kay said. "But I won't have this looking cheap. This has to be a nice wedding."

McCall squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. The coup was thus complete.

Kay turned back to her notebook. "The first thing we'll need," she said, "is to set the date. So we need to start with the church."

"I can go talk to Rev. Tom tomorrow," Becky said.

"In the morning? Good. Then we'll need to find a hall, too, before we can have the invitations printed."

"Printed invitations?" Robert asked delicately. "Is there time for that?"

Kay shot him an annoyed glance. "They'll have to be hand-delivered, of course," she said. "And there will have to be telephone calls, but we can follow up with a mailed invitation."

"Ahh." Robert gazed off into the distance, hearing his bank account whine.

"And then food," Kay continued, scribbling, "and a wedding dress and …"

"I-I was just going to get a nice suit," Becky said.

Kay stared at her. "Oh. Oh, I see. Well, we can talk about that. But Scott already has a tux, or will have – it would be a shame not to wear it. And of course if he's in a tux, it would just look silly if you didn't have a wedding gown."

Becky sighed.

"And then you'll need attendants, and flowers, and something for the dinner and a cake …" She looked up from her notebook. "I need a bigger notebook. And I think I'd better plan on coming and staying here in the city. We'll never get this done otherwise."

Scott groaned softly. Robert almost smiled. It was exactly as he'd expected. He'd tried to tell them.

An adventure, Scott had said. An adventure he would have.