"Uncle Ric!" Kristina cheered. She ran into the living room with Alexis and Molly in her wake. "Look what Cousin Nikolas gave us," she thrust the box aloft.
"Dora's Next Great Adventure," he read. "'An interactive videogame that lets you help choose Dora's adventures.'"
"Isn't it amazing?" Kristina's eyes were wide with glee.
"Very," Alexis said pointedly. "But what do you have to do first?"
"I have to find Waldo quietly while Molly takes a nap," Kristina solemnly explained to Ric.
"Well, having strong eyes will make it easier to help Dora," Ric ruffled Kristina's curls. "And a nap means neither Molly or Mommy will be crying during the adventure." Kristina giggled and ran to her book corner.
"Thanks," Alexis tried to glare. She lay Molly down in the porta-crib and dropped onto the sofa – Versace suit and all.
"You want a foot rub," Ric did not wait for an answer. He lifted her feet into his lap while trying to choose his next sentence carefully. Alexis gave him a skeptical once over but indulged in the ministrations by relaxing into the cushions. "So, Lucky wants to finalize Cameron's adoption."
"Mmm-hmmm," Alexis contorted to take off her jacket. Not for the first time Ric appreciated that his wife had been trained to dance in her childhood and learned to bend in her adulthood.
"He's also being investigated for corruption."
"What?" Alexis sat up straight; months of experience kept her voice to a whisper, though, so Molly slept on.
"I overheard Mac and Jesse talking the other day."
"That explains why you went from sure to putting off signing."
Ric ignored her comment but kept massaging her feet. "Something about undercover work."
"That's always difficult to evaluate," Alexis leaned back but kept her eyes trained on Ric.
"I'm just wondering if now is the wrong time for him to become Cameron's father."
"I'm just thinking you should be talking to someone involved rather than decide it in your head without all the facts."
"Look, look," Kristina hurried to her mother. "I found Waldo at the circus."
"You think she'd notice if I snagged her lamp?"
"At Lorenzo's house – no way. She'll have too much as it is."
Tracy had been listening to conversations like this for fifteen minutes.
"Then again, if I go get the lamp, it would upset Bert's entire load."
"You don't give the man enough credit, Princess. Bert's a professional."
"And gravity is absolute."
"Oh, for Pete's sake," Tracy threw her newspaper in the wing chair. "Don't the two of you have anything else, anything better to do with your Friday night than watch two sweating, ape-like minions move Skye's belongings out of this house?"
Luke and Lulu smiled brightly. "'Else'? Yes," Lulu nodded.
"'Better'?" Luke countered. "No." Tracy rolled her eyes and stormed between them.
"Of course, the fact that I don't have anything better to do is tied to the fact that her son ran off and got married and Skye ran off and got preggers," Lulu stalked into the sitting room and slouched on the sofa.
"Are you saying you aren't having fun with your old man?"
"I'm also pointing out how dull my life has become since you insist on staying here."
"It could be worse."
"And it's getting there with Skye moving out."
"Thought you didn't like Blaze."
"Near death experiences have been known to change things." Luke smirked as Lulu sniffed and went on, "but she at least took an interest in keeping me entertained."
"Who suggested bugging Tracy by watching the movers?"
"I need something more substantial, Dad."
"You could do homework like Tracy suggested half an hour ago."
"Further proof that living here is bad for your brain."
"What else do you want me to do, kiddo?" Luke knew he would not like the answer, but the least he could do was ask.
"We could move back to our house, where I have a fighting chance of making friends again. And you could divorce the Wicked B-"
"Do you really want to go back?" Luke tried to sound wise.
"Uh, duh," Lulu sneered.
"Wouldn't you miss Alice? And a real breakfast?"
"We could visit Alice anytime," Lulu asserted. "And you're part owner of a diner – I wouldn't starve."
"And the bedroom you've almost got just right?"
"Most of the fun is in the getting there."
"What about your allowance?"
"Blackmailing Tracy?"
"We move, that's done." Lulu was quiet. "Heck, I might have to go back to serious work." And that sealed the deal, as Luke knew it would. Lulu was determined to keep him around as long as possible.
"I suppose I could see if Lucky and Elizabeth want a sitter tonight…" Lulu started to get up but Luke stopped her.
"Elizabeth is pulling a double, so Cameron is with Audrey."
Lulu squinched her face in surprise that her father already knew that. "Well, then maybe Lucky's free." She stood and grabbed the phone.
"You're best to call Nikolas," Luke failed to sound casual.
"You hate Nikolas."
"No, I don't," he frowned but left it there. "Lucky's undercover right now."
"I know," Lulu laughed. "But he's supposed to carry on as normal."
"I don't want you to get mixed up in his case right now," Luke's voice had hardened.
Lulu shrugged and did as he suggested, called Nikolas.
"I see simple, classic," Elton's eyes were unfocused as he turned in a circle. "The ice sculpture over there."
"Carly," Jason growled and Sam's eyes widened in fear.
"Elton, why don't you sketch out a plan so they can process the full beauty," Carly waved him to a table across the MetroCourt from Jason and Sam.
"Good thinking. Honey," Elton turned back and looked Sam up and down, "you weren't thinking of a sequined halter-style bodice, were you?"
"Uh," Sam hoped he could not tell how crazy she believed him to be.
"I just had a vision of you in taffeta and Swofarski crystals," Elton's voice oozed with patience. "And that would change the entire atmosphere. To say nothing of the ice sculpture."
"No," Carly assured him. "Stick with simple."
"Carly," Jason growled again.
"You can stop acting like a badly trained lion," Carly whipped around and hissed. "Elton may be a bit over the top, but he's also the best in town."
"Why do we need a wedding planner?" Jason asked as he slipped an arm around Sam's waist.
Two against one, Carly rolled her eyes. "Are the two of you prepared to plan a wedding?"
"Yes," Sam lifted her chin. "We want simple, so the planning is simple."
"Sure, if wishes were truth," Carly threw her hands as though defeated.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam frowned.
"Who's on your guest list?"
"Well," Sam hesitated. Carly could not figure out if they did not have a list or if she simply was not on it.
How awkward, she snorted.
"Where will it be held? When?"
"May Twelfth," Sam answered definitively.
"What?" Carly goggled.
"May Twelfth," Sam repeated.
"It's already mid-March."
"Yes," Jason's eyes challenged Carly.
"Okay, you know what, Mister Attitude," Carly's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. "I'm trying to do something nice for my best friend and his fiancé – be supportive even. I," she patted her own clavicle, "am not a threat. No matter how foreign the words coming out of my mouth are to you." They glared at each other unrepentantly.
"Carly," Sam stepped between them and placed a restraining hand on Jason's chest, "What was your point about the date?"
"It takes more than two months to make a wedding in May." Carly's tone was clipped and she refused to back down.
"We can afford it." Jason's tone was condescending.
"Screw your money," Carly laughed. "I'm talking about how busy most businesses already are. Florists, caterers, even priests – most of them were booked months ago for this May. Especially," Carly's eyes glittered, "this May in Port Charles. People are happy to have lived through the last six months."
"What would you recommend?" Sam's patient tone managed to be more offensive than Elton's.
"Work with Elton – he knows the people to call and is probably owed a few favors," Carly bent to sweep her coat into her arms. "And be firm about not having a Cupid ice sculpture. He listens if you listen." Carly strode off without a hint of glancing back.
"What do you think?" Sam stood directly in front of Jason.
I think I'm lucky she didn't throw a fork at one of us, Jason thought as he focused on the petite brunette before him. "I think we may have to take her advice."
"Okay," Sam offered a lopsided smile, "then what kind of ice sculpture do we want?"
"Um, Missus Alcazar," the saleswoman hesitated.
"Miss Quartermaine," Skye corrected but never stopped examining the two cribs juxtaposed in a display.
"Right," the saleswoman took a deep breath, "Miss Quartermaine, have you considered the lovely crib we have–"
"I have considered every crib in this store," Skye's voice dripped with venom," and I prefer these two. Now, why don't you go do something else while I make my decision." Skye dismissed the saleswoman with a backwards wave.
White or honey, Skye mused. It would be the focal point, so this would determine the rest of her child's furniture. Light colors were definitely the way to go in Lorenzo's house. Our house, Skye corrected herself with a smile. Our child. He or she is going to grow up loved and happy, Skye nodded. "But which crib says loved better?" Skye muttered in her solitude.
"The white, definitely," a rich voice startled Skye's mindwalk.
"Jax," she smiled as he stepped forward and looked into the white crib. "So that's what John has?"
"No," Jax conceded. "He has a green bassinet his Nana sent. And when he grows out of it – which could be any day now – he'll get the honey."
"But white says love?" Skye bent an eyebrow at her ex-husband.
"For your little girl," Jax smiled broadly.
"Jax," Skye shook her head but allowed a small smile. "I'm barely two months pregnant. We have no idea if it will be a boy or girl."
"Yes you do," Jax countered. He was pleased by the way Skye genuinely glowed. "You know, Mom."
Skye blushed but turned to call the saleswoman back. "Alright, I'll take this collection," Skye set her hand on the white crib.
"The entire collection?" the saleswoman's eyes grew.
"Yes," Skye's voice brooked no further discussion. The saleswoman scurried off to allow her premium customers the privacy they wanted by coming in after close on a Friday.
"Well, that was maternal," Jax smirked.
Skye glared until she registered the stuffed rabbit in his arms and the picture frame clutched in his hand. "Still settling into fatherhood?"
Jax's eyes saddened, "Courtney hadn't really prepared yet."
"Oh, Jax," Skye rushed, "I'm sorry. Of course. I meant, well, I was just teasing about–"
"About spoiling John," Jax nodded and forced a smile. "I am."
"And he deserves it," Skye squeezed his free-er hand.
"So do you," Jax squeezed back.
"Doctor Drake?"
Patrick started. "Yes, Melanie?"
"Doctor Quartermaine – Alan – was looking for you, the nurse gestured toward the floor nurses' station where Alan was discussing a folder with another nurse. Webber, he noted as he arrived at her side.
"What can I do for you Doctor Quartermaine?"
"Thanks, Elizabeth," Alan nodded at the woman he counted as a surrogate daughter. She nodded in return and walked away to give the doctors privacy. "I wanted to speak with you about your father."
"Has his condition changed?" Patrick's body became tensed to dash off.
"Not drastically or unexpectedly," Alan's eyes conveyed sorrow. "But it would be helpful for everyone if his attitude would."
"His attitude is stuck in curmudgeon," Patrick smirked.
"And it shows in how stubbornly he acts about doctors' instructions and nurses' responsibilities for his care," Alan's sorrow had dropped to pointed scolding, to which even Patrick was not immune.
"I'll see what I can do," he stated genuinely.
"Thank you," Alan nodded again, knowing that how ever little that was likely to do, it was the best any of them could hope to accomplish. At least a son needling his father would be more likely to have an effect than old friend gently reprimanding.
Patrick shook his head and scowled at the floor the entire way to Noah's room. "Determined to be an ass, that's what he is." Patrick never noticed the nurses that giggled in his wake, but he managed a blank expression by the time he reached his father's doorway. "You should rest," he remarked flippantly.
"What?" Noah asked. Everything about the elder Drake told of his exhaustion. Patrick could not tell if his father had not heard him or simply wanted to see if the comment would be repeated.
"Where's your doctor? The internist?"
"Probably deciding whether to put the hemlock in my creamed corn or my jello."
"So long as you don't feel sorry for yourself," Patrick's voice dripped with bitterness and he rolled his eyes.
"I don't, actually," Noah mustered more conviction for his declaration than even he had thought possible. "I feel sorry for Doctor Bright because she has to put up with your hovering. Best she knock me off than go to the trouble of getting away with your murder.
"Thanks, Dad," Patrick snatched Noah's chart from the end of the bed and flipped through with irritation.
"That's what's nice about working at General Hospital," Bobbie strode into the room to check Noah's monitors. "The way everyone feels like a close, loving family."
"How are you, Bobbie?" Noah offered a weak smile.
"Fine, but you don't look so hot," Bobbie sank against the side of the bed as though it had not been twenty-five years since they had flirted.
"Well, if I'd known you'd be stopping by I would have shaved," Noah winked. Patrick snorted.
"I might be able to help," Bobbie leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I traded around so I could bring you your medicine." Her comment bore the lilt of a flirtatious invitation, but all three of them knew it was more likely that she had been the only one willing to put up with his mounting opposition to treatments.
Noah truly laughed. "I'll make you a deal. I'll take my medicine without a fight if you get me out of this room for a while."
"You've got a deal." Bobbie set his cup of pills next to the pitcher of water with a pointed look. "I'll be back with a wheelchair."
Patrick watched as Bobbie walked out and then swung around to face his father. "I suppose it would be useless to mention that's a bad idea? After all you won't take anything from me, especially not my medical opinion."
"If it were my brain rotting away, I'd be sure to come to you," Noah sounded detached. He threw back his blankets and slid his legs over the side of the bed to the floor.
"Are you determined to kill yourself this way, now?" Patrick sneered. "Stop drinking in time to die a martyr rather than a suicide?"
"Why are you so mad?" Noah stood and looked his son directly in the eye. "You're finally going to be able to say you told me so and be rid of me. The drinking is killing me! Just like I killed your mother!"
"You don't get to take the easy way out!" Patrick raged in return. "You think this is what I want!"
"I don't know what you want," Noah snapped, "other than nothing to do with me."
And then he collapsed to the floor.
"Noah!" Bobbie rushed in.
Patrick slapped the code blue alert on one of the monitors and then bent over to lift Noah into the bed.
Doctor Bright and a crash team rushed in and rushed out with Noah.
"How long were you there?" Patrick asked quietly.
"Long enough to wonder how thing the line between hate and love can get," Bobbie looked at Patrick with disappointment before leaving him alone in the empty hospital room.
"Hey, buddy," Sonny laughed as Michael ran in.
"Check it out Dad," Michael thrust a paper in Sonny's face with a large gold star at the top. "The teacher said I gave the best family presentation."
"Family presentation?" Sonny took the paper and settled on the sofa so Michael could join him. "When did you do this?" He smiled as he realized it was a whole report with a picture of Michael's large family on the cover.
"A few days ago," Michael replied. "The teacher said we should try to do it on our own, so I did. Isn't it a great surprise!"
Sonny was still examining the cover so his cheerful reply was only out of habit, "Yeah, buddy!"
Michael recognized his focus and decided to help. "That's me," he pointed to the red-topped figure at the center. "An' that's Morgan an' Kristina an' Molly," he was pointing quickly as he hurried through. "There's Mom and You and Uncle Jason. And Sam and Alexis and Ric. And Emily and Mister Jax and John. And Grandma and Lucas and Grandpa Mike. And Max."
"Max, too?"
"Yeah, 'cause Mom always says, 'He's not just a guard,'" Michael did a horrible imitation of his mother that made Sonny smile, "'he's our friend and like family, so you have to listen to him, too.' At least that's what she says if I get in trouble while we're out."
"She's right," Sonny tried to be serious, but he couldn't stop smiling. "And who are these people?" he pointed to the figures at the top of the page.
"Those are our angels," Michael was very serious now since he knew how important angels are. "That's Aunt Courtney and the baby she didn't have and the baby Mom didn't have and the baby Sam didn't have which saved Kristina's life." Sonny was awe-struck but Michael was not done. "And that's Lucas's dad and Grandma Lila and Grandma Adella. And that's your angels, Miss Lily and the baby she didn't have."
"How do you know about Miss Lily?" Sonny frowned.
"Grandma Mike explained about her when you were really upset about the lady that looked like her a few years ago," Michael looked at Sonny with more innocence than he had carried in years.
"What did…What did he say?" Sonny's question was quiet and his throat caught on the words. This was one of the last conversations he had expected to have with Michael, ever, and his sadness was nearly overwhelming.
"He said you were married to her before you knew Mom. That you guys were happy but that she died before your baby was born. He said that she loved you very much and always would."
"He's right," Sonny took a deep breath and willed himself not to cry. "And you're right about the angels. They love you and all of us very much."
"You've only ever been married to Miss Lily and Mom, right?" Michael wondered as he settled back into the couch.
"Yeah," Sonny answered.
"But before them you were with Miss Brenda, Uncle Jason's old wife, right?"
"Yes," Sonny's response was more careful and he eyed Michael's comfortable slouch and curious expression with some suspicion.
"And for a while you were with some Hannah lady that Mom doesn't like," Michael plowed ahead. "And you were with Sam for a while. And some time along the way you were with Aunt Alexis–"
"Aunt Alexis?" Sonny raised an eyebrow.
"Well," Michael shrugged, "She's married to Uncle Ric and she's Kristina's mom…"
"Okay," Sonny nodded. It made sense, but he was vaguely amused by the idea of Carly hearing Michael call her 'Aunt Alexis.'
"Anyway, there was Hannah and Sam and Alexis," Michael ticked them off on his fingers. "And now there's Emily. Right?"
"Right," Sonny agreed.
"You've loved a lot of women," Michael stated matter of factly.
"I suppose." Sonny hoped he sounded calm because all he felt was abject fear. This was definitely a conversation he had never thought of having with Michael.
"Why?"
"Uh…"
"'Cause Mom has explained to Morgan an' me about how you guys will always love each other but aren't in love anymore. But you seem to have been in love with a lot more people than her or Uncle Jason."
"Yeah…"
"Well, how come?" Michael gestured forward with his smaller arms. "Why are you always falling in love?"
"Michael," Sonny tried to stall. Finally he gave up. "You wouldn't understand."
"Da-ad," Michael rolled his eyes.
"I'll explain when you're older," Sonny assured him.
Michael sat for a full two minutes trying to stare Sonny down. He only wanted to understand his Dad better. Everyone is getting mad at Sonny about Emily and something is going on with Sam and Aunt Alexis. Most of all, Michael wanted his Dad's explanation for why he and Mom could not be together anymore.
Sonny was simply lost and had no idea of how to answer Michael. Jax and Carly individually were the only ones who had ever really questioned Sonny's romantic history. He knew he had made mistakes; on the other hand, each of those women had been what he needed at the time. But how could he explain that to his ten year old son?
"Hi," Emily called. "Look who I found at the park," she bounced Morgan on her hip.
"Whatever," Michael snapped. He got off the sofa, snatched his family presentation back and then stormed up the stairs."
'What's wrong?" Emily set Morgan by his toys before going to stand next to Sonny.
Sonny sighed. "I think he's getting to the troublesome teen years early."
"Aren't you off shift, Beaudry?" Mac stopped at Jesse's desk.
"Yeah," Jesse did not look up, occupied by the report on his desk.
"Don't you have better places to be?" Mac asked pointedly.
"Yeah."
"So why are you still here?"
Jess finally looked up. His cheek was red where he had been leaning on his hand, but the rest of his face – complex, expression, eyes – was dull, almost pale. "I'm waiting for Lucky."
Mac considered the options. Clearly Jesse had discovered something that could be damning. But if Jesse was not read to talk about it, there was hopefully still a chance of another explanation. "My door is open," Mac nodded evenly and walked away.
Jesse sighed and reviewed Lucky's latest report. It was wrong, subtly very wrong. Money was off, information was scant, and the report's tone was blasé. He could not understand what his partner was doing because he clearly was not doing his job.
"Jesse, man," Lucky's voice was cheerful as Jesse looked back up to watch his partner wandering over. "Didn't expect you'd still be here."
"Waiting on you, bro," Jesse hoped his expression communicated more than his words could in the middle of the station.
Apparently Lucky did not think so. "I'm flattered, but aren't you worried this'll get back to Maxie?" Lucky smirked. "She'll get jealous if she hears about us," Lucky lowered himself to the edge of Jesse's desk and fluttered his eye lashes.
"She understands," Jesse answered easily. "Ours is a different kind of love." Lucky grinned. "Buy you a beer?"
"Liz is expecting me," Lucky stood and glanced around. "I'm just here to drop off a report."
"Mary Sue left early today," Jesse waved at the desk sergeant's usual place. "Her kid is in a play or something. And I thought Liz was working a double today. Been that busy lately that you can't keep your wife's schedule straight?"
"Oh, yeah, right," Lucky turned back and was distinctly confused.
"How 'bout I had in your report in the morning?" Jesse held out his hand, "and we go out for a beer tonight."
"Uh, sure," Lucky agreed.
"Your report?" Jesse shook his empty hand around.
"Right." Lucky shoved the papers into his partner's hand.
Jesse tucked them into his middle drawer, locked it, and stood to face Lucky's frown. "So, how 'bout that beer?"
"Yeah," Lucky ran a hand through his hair. "sure."
"Great," Jesse slapped him on the back and pressed gently as though urging Lucky onward.
They walked to The Blue Bar in silence. Its real name was Ship Leave because it was just off the docks. But it was cop friendly so everyone called it The Blue Bar. Not that Jake did not like cops on principle, but everybody knew it would make trouble if police were regulars at the town's rowdier establishment. And who needed that when trying to unwind?
"What'll you have?" Jesse slid onto a stool at a high table but Lucky balked.
"This is probably a bad idea," he whispered. "I'm supposed to be on the outs with the department."
"That's why we set up that fake bust so you could do them a favor in anger," Jesse shrugged. "But how are you of any use to them if you loose connections like your partner?"
"Yeah," Lucky agreed hesitantly.
"Hey, maybe you're right, though," Jesse offered. "Maybe you should storm out because I was acting like any ole' pig, totally pissing you off."
"Yeah," Lucky agreed enthusiastically. "That's good."
"Then I'll see you later," Jesse shrugged again. "Just call me a jackass as you go."
"Right," Lucky laughed. It was so enthusiastic that Jesse knew it was more of an act than when Lucky in fact did begin to stomp off declaring over his shoulder, "You can be a real jackass!"
"What's his problem?" the bartender, Carl, asked when Jesse moved to the bar from the table.
"Multiple personalities," Jesse smirked.
Carl's laugh was robust and genuine. "At least he'll beat the rap."
Jesse nodded and accepted the beer. His face went blank as he considered exactly what rap his best friend might need to beat. Draining the bottle ten minutes later, Jesse settled up and strode out. He pulled on a skull cap, drew up his hood, and then checked the palm computer from his pocket to find where Lucky's tag had gone. Pier 17. Good, Jesse decided. Observation could be done from the shadows, which were in abundance. Especially since the tag he had swiped from the station was a mic, too, he just had to be close enough.
Jesse only had to slide between boxes on Pier 18 to be fully concealed and have a good view of Pier 17.
"So you were tryin' to butter him up? Fine," someone growled. "What did you find out? He suspect anything?"
"No," Lucky's voice was emphatic. "He thinks I've been so busy undercover I don't even know where my wife is."
"And they only know what we want them to know?" It was a second mystery voice and Jesse could see another man stepping closer to Lucky's distinct silhouette.
"Yeah," Lucky reassured. "And nobody's asking much. They're just thinking this has to be done carefully."
"Good," the second voice was smiling. "That means we can move forward with the next delivery."
"And then Manny goes down," the first voice dripped with false sweetness despite its bass and guttural nature.
"And you get rich." The second voice was smoother but no less false.
"Good," Lucky nodded. Jesse's body chilled with the fear that his friend truly did not realize he was being played. Lucky quickly left and Jesse watched guards close in around the men Lucky was supposed to be investigating.
Jesse crept back up Pier 18 to listen as Ivan and Yorgi Teval went past.
" – three o'clock." Jesse could see now that Yorgi was the smooth voice.
"Good," Ivan nodded.
What happened next made Jesse question the nature of his luck since they would not have spoken as they did if they had actually known he was there. They would have tried to set something up, not bickered.
Yorgi stopped the group right in front of Jesse's new hiding crate. "What's bothering you?"
"It seems too easy," Ivan frowned.
"What – the shipment or the cop?"
"Both."
"Well, the shipment isn't," Yorgi folded his arms across his chest. "Quite hard actually. While you've been establishing the drop point I've had to negotiate carefully to get everything here."
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Good job," Ivan smirked.
"Your appreciation makes it all worthwhile," Yorgi bowed and even the guards chuckled.
"Been bored?" Ivan wondered.
"Stifled," Yorgi waved at nothing. "All the idiots with 'power' I've had to deal with…Well, lets just say I could use a challenge."
"The cop doesn't bother you?" Ivan was frowning again.
"No," Yorgi was firm but rolled his eyes. "He really is as stupid as this."
"A Spencer," Ivan protested.
"The Dumb Spencer," Yorgi shrugged. "He's proven that repeatedly."
"I'm going to keep watching him," Ivan was decisive.
"Fine," Yorgi was disinterested.
"And his family."
"Good."
"Jesse stayed behind the crate for another twenty minutes after the Tevals left. He watched Lucky's tracer get home.
He could not help wondering: Which family? Luke? Lulu and Nikolas? Or Elizabeth and Cameron?
After spending twenty minutes relearning how to post stories here (it's been too long), I have the chapters fit for consumption. Hopefully the rapid changing and poor original format was unnoticed or at least not bothersome.