Chapter 3

Title: The Story
Rating: PG
Warnings: some swearing
Characters/Pairings: Grace/Hank, Beth & Evan, Luis-Sam-teens, Ethan/Gwen-Antonio-Sheridan-Pretty, Grace/Eve-Jessica-Paloma, squint to see it Theresa/Ethan (if you're wearing *those* kind of glasses, lol)
Word Count: 5,823
Summary (for chapter): But his inability to move on from the past, his frustrating short-sightedness beyond finding out what happened to his father fifteen long years ago, was the biggest roadblock to his own happiness.

Days Like This

"Don't you have a husband for jobs like this?" With one hand propped against his hip and the other held up to shade his eyes from the brilliant summer sun, Hank cast a teasing smile at his sister-in-law. He could feel beads of sweat crawling across the nape of his neck and slip-sliding the expanse of skin between his shoulder blades, and the earlier temptation to strip the damp cotton from his upper body resurfaced but was quickly (albeit regretfully) tamped down.

Standing on the Inn's top step, Grace smiled back at him with her tired blue eyes and offered him a bottle of water. She watched as Hank drained the chilled bottle in two long swallows. "The busier I keep you, the longer you'll stay."

Hank raised a curious brow at her comment. If she wanted him busy, she'd certainly succeeded. Yesterday he'd fixed a leaky faucet in one of the rooms upstairs. The day before that he'd helped her transplant some flowers from their clay pots into the ground along the paved walkway. Today, she'd stepped it up several notches. He'd just spent the last couple of hours replacing some shingles on the roof that had seen better days. Squinting against the sun, he glanced at the ladder he'd descended mere minutes ago and remarked, "Asking works just as well."

Sheepishly, Grace admitted, "It was Sam's idea." Looking pale and somewhat unsteady on her feet, she lowered herself to the step, tucking her hands around her knees. She leaned into Hank's solid form slightly when he joined her a second later, eyeing her with undisguised concern. "He misses you when you're gone. We all do."

"I miss you too," Hank responded honestly, his arm going around Grace without thinking, pulling her closer. And he did. There was no denying how much when simply being home a week (had it really been a week already?) left such an ache that was both delicious and pain-filled in the pit of his belly. Grace's auburn head settled on his shoulder, and his lips brushed her hair as he spoke. "You know I don't stay away because I want to." His statement hung in the air like a question, and he found himself pinned by Grace's assessing blue gaze.

"I know," Grace finally answered.

Hank wondered what truths he'd revealed to her in his eyes but decided it didn't matter. Her loyalty to his brother notwithstanding, Grace wasn't about to betray his trust in her. Still, that didn't stop her from voicing a few concerns of her own.

"At least when you're here, with us, I don't worry as much."

"Don't worry about me," Hank tried to downplay the seriousness of her fears with a grin. "I may get into my fair share of trouble, but I've also proven I'm pretty resourceful when it comes to getting out of it."

Grace laughed softly, conceding his point. "You know," she told him a beat later, "there's someone else that worries, maybe even more than me."

Hank groaned, knowing exactly where she was leading with her words. After all these years, his sister-in-law was as much a matchmaker as she ever had been, and she never passed up an opportunity.

"She isn't seeing anybody."

"Beth and I are friends," Hank protested. "Besides, what kind of friend would I be, to her or to Luis, if I made a move on her?" He knew he'd said something wrong, something revealing when Grace's lips twitched into a smile, and he cursed his rambling mouth for its inability to stay closed, especially when it continued to spew forth nonsense. "It's not like I haven't tried before. She isn't interested in me like that." He groaned again, more loudly than the last time, but when he looked at Grace, he realized he hadn't told her anything she hadn't already guessed. Helplessly, Hank hung his head.

Grace lay a soothing hand on Hank's back. "This isn't high school anymore," she reminded him.

Hank snorted. Thank God for small miracles. "You mean I don't have to swipe Sam's keys if I want to take the patrol car out for a spin?"

"I'm not saying that." Humor made Grace's eyes dance and welcome color return to her cheeks. She grew more serious, though, when she said, "There hasn't been a Beth and Luis in a long time."

"There still could be," Hank shot back. "If Luis would just get his head out of his ass." A part of him knew he wasn't being fair. Luis wasn't the only one at fault for the way things had ended between him and Beth. But his inability to move on from the past, his frustrating short-sightedness beyond finding out what happened to his father fifteen long years ago, was the biggest roadblock to his own happiness. Hank had no doubt Beth and Evan could give his friend a new lease on life, if he let them.

"I don't think you're giving Beth enough credit."

"Enough credit for what?"

Hank looked up sharply, having been so preoccupied he hadn't noticed the shadow that had fallen over them both upon Beth and Evan's approach. With a significant look at Grace, he cleared his throat and adopted an apologetic smile. "I was just telling Grace I was worried about you working too hard with two jobs." He brushed off Beth's look of annoyance in favor of greeting Evan. "Hey, kidlet. Isn't Jess supposed to be picking you up and taking you to the Y later?"

Beth answered for her son. "Didn't Grace tell you? There's been a slight change of plans."

"How slight?" Hank questioned, regarding Grace suspiciously.

Grace's blue eyes twinkled at Hank, and she shook her head slightly, telling him without words that this was no matchmaking stunt. She stifled a laugh at Hank's obvious sigh of relief. "Paloma and Jessica are helping me plan Pilar's surprise birthday party instead of going to the Y. I told Beth you wouldn't mind taking Evan, especially since he already had his heart set on it."

Hank took one look at Evan and his large, hopeful dark eyes and any protest he might have had about someone else making his plans for him (however well-meaning) simply vanished. "Well, I better get cleaned up quick if we want to escape the hen party."

"Hank Bennett," Grace looked at him with wounded eyes.

"I mean that in the best way possible," Hank defended himself with a kiss to her cheek, winking at Beth before he pulled her in for a quick, sweaty hug.

"Please," Beth gently shoved him away, "Go. Shower. You reek."

As the front door closed behind him, Hank could hear Evan questioning both women.

"What's a hen party?"

At the far edge of the town of Harmony, the Y stretched across several acres of land bordering the most remote boundaries of the Crane estate. Situated conveniently close to the local high school, the Y, or the Youth Center as it had once been called, had been a gift nearly twenty years ago from Katherine Crane to the children of Harmony. Once a state-of-the-art marvel, it had seen much decline in the fifteen years following her abrupt departure from the small town, and it survived and continued to operate only with the aid of modest donations and the volunteer operations of the town's citizens, most particularly the members of the Harmony Police Department. One member even went so far as to call the property home.

Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald locked up behind himself and hurried down the steps that led to his small apartment, toward the voices that had drifted up to him from below. Spying the quartet of teens immediately, he greeted the most familiar of the bunch gruffly, "You're early." He made a conscious effort to soften his demeanor when his little brother stepped forward obediently. He thought he heard Kay whisper to Simone (Wow, someone's a grouch) but he couldn't be sure.

"Sorry, Luis," Miguel apologized. "We thought you wouldn't mind."

"Someone should fix that latch," Reese pointed to the loosely appended handle of the stall before which the teens stood. "That horse in there is nothing but a domesticated wild animal. A loose latch like that could prove to be dangerous."

Luis suppressed a sigh, knowing Reese was just trying to be helpful. At the same time, he fought off an unexpected smile as he stretched a long arm out to scratch between the domesticated wild animal's ears. The thought of anyone considering the sweet, gentle mare dangerous bordered on hilarity. When the horse tossed her head back and whinnied at them, causing Reese to backpedal comically in fear and the others to snicker quietly, Luis mock-scolded her, "Easy there, Blaze." He smiled openly when Miguel finally took pity on his friend.

"Relax, Reese," Miguel said between laughs. "Blaze wouldn't hurt a fly."

Simone held out her palm, and the horse sniffed at it curiously, tickling it with her whiskers. "Miguel's right."

Despite Miguel and Simone's encouragement, Reese wouldn't be swayed.

Using his fear to her advantage, Kay volunteered, "Miguel and I will hang out here. Maybe you and Simone will have better luck at the court."

Luis had a better idea. "Miguel and Reese, wait for me at the court. Simone, that crafts store down on Fifth Street donated a bunch of old inventory; I thought you could help Theresa go through it, pick out what's worth keeping." Luis's arm blocked Kay from following Simone into the beaming sunshine beyond the stable. Grasping both of her slim shoulders in his hands, he leveled his full attention on her. Then, with a squeeze of his hands, he released her, turning to go himself. "Thanks for picking the stable, Kay. The stalls need a good mucking out."

"But," Kay started to protest.

Luis feigned ignorance. "Do you want me to send Reese back to help you?" He was still laughing quietly at Kay's muttered response (Something told me I shouldn't have worn these shoes) when he emerged from the stable, right into his boss's path. Sobering, he told Sam, "Hard work builds character. Hard, stinky work especially."

Sam smirked. Far from having no sense of humor, Luis's wit often came as a wicked surprise. "Don't be too hard on her, Luis. She's a girl with a crush. Don't you remember what that felt like?"

For a moment, Luis thought he saw a hint of gold reflected in the sunlight, and he was transported back to his carefree childhood and the ways things were before. Swallowing thickly, he shook his head at Sam and told him the truth that existed in the now, "No, Sam. Can't say that I do."

Watching Luis shut down in front of him, Sam cursed himself for opening his big mouth and saying the absolute wrong thing. More than an employee, Luis was a friend to Sam, and he scrambled for the right words, paltry words of apology that refused to come. Thankfully, T.C. arrived at that moment, Whitney and Theresa in tow, and Luis seemed to snap out of it, assigning jobs and doling out instructions. As quickly as the cavalry had arrived, they scattered to opposite ends of the Y, each and every one with his or her own mission to accomplish, and Sam figured he could make amends another way. "Luis?" he called. The apology was in his eyes, and he saw, in the loosening of Luis's tense shoulders, his acceptance.

"Think you could help me set up the picnic tables beneath those shade trees across the way?"

Sweat beading on his brow, his shirt sticking to his body like a well-loved glove, and three bikini-clad blondes had Antonio cursing the Harmony humidity and pondering his sanity as he stood sentinel at the swimming pool's edge, and it was with some thankfulness that he heeded Ethan Crane's beckoning, carefully navigating the chaises and haphazardly thrown towels to the young man, seated comfortably beneath a huge, open umbrella, his laptop displayed on the table before him.

"Sit," Ethan indicated the seat across from him. When Antonio did as he requested, he smiled, perfect white teeth gleaming and blue eyes kind. "Isn't that better?"

Antonio merely nodded, keeping his sunglasses perched on his nose despite the relative shade offered by the umbrella. Curiosity, however, led him to ask, as he surveyed the laptop and papers strewn across the table, "Why aren't you out there with them, enjoying yourself?"

"Why aren't you?" Ethan threw his question back at him, no trace of rancor in his tone. "You are supposed to watch them, aren't you? Protect them? One would think that job would be easier from a closer vantage point."

Antonio's lips twitched, but he remained silent, rather impressed that his true purpose had been discovered by someone that appeared so unassuming.

"I'm glad my aunt Sheridan has someone like you to count on," Ethan continued. "My sisters and Gwen, too," he hastened to clarify. "But especially Aunt Sheridan. I don't know what it is exactly…something about this house troubles her. I don't think she's had a proper night's sleep since she arrived."

Antonio followed Ethan's gaze to the woman in question. With her short blond hair slicked back by water, he was struck again by her beauty. And, this time, the increasingly dark shadows beneath her ocean eyes. She waved when she noticed him watching her, and Antonio lifted his hand to wave back at her, his heart twisting at the ready smile she favored him with. Belatedly, he realized Ethan was talking again.

"She's always had to rely on sleeping pills, but here they seem to have little to no effect." Rambling on, he considered, "Maybe it's her room. The rest of our rooms are as we left them, years and years ago, but Aunt Sheridan's is virtually unrecognizable. I can't fathom why Father thought it necessary to remove any trace of the past."

Antonio swallowed against the sudden, unsettled feeling in the pit of his belly, whispers of that same past hissing at the edges of his consciousness. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he returned his attention to Sheridan and the others again, finding himself the center of their attention.

Quietly and conspiratorially, Ethan told him, "I think my sister Pretty has a crush on you."

Almost as if she had heard them, Pretty Crane smiled shyly in Antonio's direction, blushing to the roots of her hair and making her companions laugh when Antonio waved in acknowledgment.

"Be gentle with her feelings," Ethan advised in a low whisper. "Pretty's…" he searched for the right word to describe his baby sister, finally succeeding with one that, to his mind, described both Pretty and his aunt, "fragile."

Antonio thought of the airstrip incident and promised to tread carefully. Thank goodness they'd behaved themselves on the way back. He supposed he had the young fiancée to thank for that. One thought bled into another, and he couldn't resist asking, "What about your other sister?"

"Fancy?" Ethan's blue eyes regarded him curiously.

"She seems like she can take pretty good care of herself," Antonio said, recalling her quick tongue and prickly, defensive demeanor at the slightest hint of a threat, to herself or her family.

Ethan thought of Fancy's silent tears and the anger she'd nursed since The Seascape, still was nursing, in fact (something about a boy, Gwen had whispered when they'd returned and Fancy had slammed her bedroom door shut on the rest of the outside world), and had to disagree, at least slightly. "That's just what she wants you to think," he told Antonio.

"Talking about me again?" Appearing out of nowhere, Gwen plunked down into Ethan's lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, water dripping from the end of her blond ponytail onto the papers scattered across the table.

Ethan sent a grateful smile in Antonio's direction when he rescued the paperwork and pulled the laptop out of harm's way. "Actually," Ethan began but soon thought better, pulling her down for an affectionate kiss, "I was. I was thinking of how I just can't wait to be married to you."

Gwen leaned her forehead against Ethan's. "Aren't you sweet?" With a quick kiss to his lips, she turned her attention to Antonio, thanking him again for delivering her to the Crane estate safely, in one piece.

Charmed by her smile, Antonio found himself smiling back at her. "It was a generous thing you did." He remembered his shock, when instead of claiming her rightful spot beside her fiancé on the trip home (after flying thousands of miles just to see him), she'd relinquished her seat to Sheridan, allowing nephew and aunt some much needed time to reacquaint themselves.

"Wasn't it?" Ethan marveled, his pride more than evident by the admiring expression he wore. Seemingly oblivious to the fact she and her little black bikini were getting him wet (or maybe, he just didn't care), he pulled her into a tight hug, his hands resting at the small at her back. Murmuring against her temple, he asked, "Are you hungry?" At her slight nod, he looked at Antonio, and Sheridan and Pretty, who'd just joined them. "I'm hungry."

"Starving," Sheridan voiced her agreement, knotting a long white towel around her waist and perching on the arm of Antonio's chair. She failed to notice Pretty's disappointed expression but wiped away the young girl's dejection with her invitation. "Pretty, I know you didn't think it looked like much, but Antonio swears by the food at The Shack, says it's one of the best places to eat around these parts. Think you're brave enough to try it?"

Pretty wore a smile as she nodded, draping her own towel over her shoulders.

"See if you can convince Fancy to come out of her self-imposed exile," Ethan suggested, sending his little sister on her way. "So," he prompted Antonio, "are you up for it?"

Hell, Antonio thought, visions of little black and white and blue bikinis dancing before his eyes, if it meant they'd put some clothes on… "Yeah, I'm up for it," he drawled with an answering smirk.

Sheridan and Gwen linked arms as they headed toward the towering house, and the two blondes looked back in confusion when neither man stood up to follow them.

"Just giving you girls a twenty minute head-start," Ethan grinned.

"You seriously think they'll be ready in twenty?" Antonio still needed convincing, and Ethan quickly set him straight.

"Forty, tops."

"Phew," Evan waved his hand in front of his wrinkled nose as Kay stalked past, "what's that smell?"

"Can it, Elf," Kay scowled, arms wrapped about her middle, and feet intent (and mucked up). "You too, Uncle Hank," she warned, when Hank was too slow to disguise his grin.

"Leave her be," Sam spoke up for his daughter, only chuckling quietly when she was out of earshot. Copying Hank's casual pose and draping his arms over the whitewashed wooden fencing that separated the Y from the vast Crane estate, Sam regarded his brother out of the corner of his blue eyes. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Hank heard his brother's unspoken still loud and clear. "Didn't expect to be here," he replied, placing a bracing hand across Evan's back when the boy wobbled unsteadily before finding his purchase on the bottom rung of the fencing, mimicking the adults' stances. In silence, they watched the handful of horses bequeathed to the Y over the years graze the tiny square plot of grassland that stuck out like a sore thumb from the rest of the Crane land. It was all that was left after Alistair Crane had reclaimed the pasture lands originally given so freely to the people of Harmony, but the animals themselves didn't seem to mind. Sometimes, Hank wished it were so simple for people.

Piece of straw between his teeth, Evan cocked his dark head and leaned farther over the fence, only to be firmly pulled back by Luis's strong hand.

"Careful," Luis cautioned, fashioning himself into a shielding wall behind the boy. "Don't go too far."

Studying their profiles in the glint of the afternoon sunlight, Hank was stricken by the bone-deep familiarity, the resemblance that made his heart ache in his chest, and he knew without asking that Sam saw the same thing that he did. Turning his back on the horses, he rest against the railing, studying his feet as he acknowledged Luis. "Looks like we missed all the fun."

"T.C.'s still around here somewhere," Luis answered him, "and Whitney."

"I thought he'd have her touring the country by now," Hank said, "taking the tennis world by storm."

"Not for lack of trying," Sam joined the conversation mid-stride.

"He puts too much pressure on her," Hank remarked.

Luis looked at him steadily, unflinchingly. "How would you know?"

Touche. Hank actually winced then quietly admitted, "I wouldn't."

"Maybe it isn't fun anymore," Evan surprised them by speaking up. "If baseball wasn't fun to me anymore, I wouldn't want to play either."

"You're one smart kid," Sam praised, ruffling the mop of dark hair with great affection. Much to his amusement (and Hank's and Luis's), Evan agreed with him.

"I know," Evan shrugged.

"Modest too," Hank grinned.

"Mom says I learned my modesty from you," Evan grinned back.

"And they say these things are hereditary." Hank's eyes connected with Luis's own gaze then looked away. Changing the subject, Hank called his big brother out on his methods of persuasion when it came to keeping him around Harmony. "I figure I'm going to be around for a while, so we either cut the Bob Vila routine out now or you're climbing onto that roof with me next time."

Sam had the grace to look embarrassed. "Clarify a while for me."

It was Hank's turn to shrug, though he struggled to look nonchalant when he answered, "A couple of months, give or take."

Evan grew excited. "You're going to be here the whole summer?"

It was hard not to smile in the face of the boy's exuberance so Hank didn't even try to fight it. "Looks like it, kidlet."

Without warning, Evan hopped down from the railing, sweeping past Luis and kicking up dust behind him.

"Where's the fire?" Hank joked.

"I'm going to tell Kay," Evan shouted in response.

"Don't worry," Hank told Luis and Sam when the child raced headlong past the stable toward the lone figure exuding teenaged girl disdain in the distance, "he'll be back. Those two are worse than brother and sister, but she won't let anything happen to him."

Satisfied when Evan caught up to Kay and appeased by Hank's reassurance, Luis focused his attention back on Hank. "The rest of the summer, huh?" When Hank nodded, he glanced at Sam and back again. "With Sam and I spending most of our time at the station, we sure could use some extra help around here."

"What do you say, Little Brother?" Sam asked hopefully.

Hank mulled the proposal over and made his decision quickly. "When do I start?" Judging by the grin on Sam's face, he'd made the correct call.

"Monday too soon?" Luis explained, "That way the kids have time to get used to you before you just show up, out of the blue."

He had a point. Hank held out his hand, to shake on it. He let out a yelp of surprise when Luis pulled him into a hug (the night at The Shack had been all his doing), and he felt the years melt away. They were those same two best friends again, united and strong. Through the years, he'd come back, never staying gone for too long, but he had to agree with Luis. This time was different.

"It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," Hank told him, suddenly finding himself in his brother's embrace. He pulled back awkwardly when it became apparent Sam wasn't going to be the one to let go first. "Listen, Sammy," he began, only to be cut off by Kay's unexpected return.

"Hate to interrupt your little bonding session, guys, but it looks like we've got an unwanted visitor."

"Whoa!" Evan exclaimed, arm extended in front of him in wonder. "Did you see that?"

Hank heard the roar of the car's engine and the horses' frantic whinnying and clashing of hooves before he even saw the cloud of dust approaching them from the distant horizon. "What the hell," he swore softly, instinctually grabbing onto Evan's tee-shirt as the kid scrambled to higher ground in the effort to get a better look. Either someone had a death wish or a reckless streak a mile wide. Hank barely noticed Kay step up beside him or Sam shadow her, he was so fixated on the silver mirage that barreled toward them at breakneck speed. Only when the outer fence was mere inches away did the driver throw on the brakes, swerving and spinning in the opposite direction and leaving them all coughing and sputtering at the tremendous swell of dust that swooped and swirled their way.

"Who was that?" Evan's brown eyes were wide with awe.

All eyes (except Kay's) turned to Luis, and Luis didn't disappoint, spitting out the driver's identity with contempt. "That was Fox Crane."

The hour was advancing, and the hen party, as Hank had labeled it, was in full swing. Over glasses of lemonade and a plate full of shortbread cookies, most of the important details had already been hammered out, like the location (three out of four had voted for the Inn's spacious backyard) and the time (after Mass on Sunday because it was the only time everybody could make it), but they were still debating the little details, and Grace and Eve had decided those were best left up to the girls, with Theresa being the tie-breaking vote (they'd have to call her on her break). Currently, Jessica and Paloma were discussing the merits of having a pinata at the party, their heads close together as they swayed back and forth in the porch swing.

Grace had her hands cupped around her own sweating glass of lemonade, watching the lazy afternoon traffic and occasionally waving to the unhurried passers-by that traveled the sidewalk in front of the Inn.

"That's the same glass of lemonade you had when I got here," Eve astutely observed, studying Grace's pale skin, unable to help but notice the fluttering pulse at her friend's neck. "Grace," she lowered her voice, all-too aware of Jessica's proximity and Grace's natural reticence, "how long has this been going on?"

Beneath lowered lashes, Grace regarded Eve suspiciously. "Sam said something to you, didn't he?"

Eve quickly put her qualms to rest. "He didn't have to."

"Mom," Jessica called out. "What do you think about dancing?"

Painting a smile on her face, Grace answered her daughter. "Sounds fine, Honey."

"Theresa can help us with the music," Paloma suggested, her chatter less animated than her older sister's but no less excited.

Eve put forth her two cents, making both girls laugh. "It can't all be Latin music. Some of our bodies weren't meant to move that way."

"Dr. Russell," Paloma proclaimed, "I'm certain you'd be a natural."

"You're sweet," Eve smiled at the young girl then turned back to her friend, her concern growing when she noticed the fine sheen of sweat dotting Grace's skin. Propelling the glass in Grace's hands toward her mouth, she coaxed her to drink. "Sip it. Not too fast."

Shaking her head, Grace weakly pushed the glass away. "I can't."

"What about some water? Maybe it would be better."

Swallowing slowly, Grace nodded and Eve climbed to her feet, the wooden planks of the porch creaking underfoot. Grace opened her eyes in surprise when she heard footsteps again, all too quickly. "Hi, Honey," she greeted Jessica. "Where did Paloma go?" Jessica's answer was simple and deflective.

"Inside."

Grace allowed her daughter to thread their fingers together.

"You're sick," Jessica deduced, her brow knitting with worry.

Grace's immediate reaction was to downplay her daughter's fears. "I'm not." When Jessica squeezed her hand emphatically, she looked up, finding her daughter's typically tranquil expression replaced with one of unspoken anger. Relenting somewhat, she made a small concession, "I'm not sick. I'm just not feeling 100 percent. There's a difference." To combat Jessica's skepticism, she continued, "It comes and goes." She looked up when a shadow fell across them, finding Eve and Paloma staring down at her with the same expression of worry that Jessica wore. "I'll be fine. Promise." She smiled at them all then, determined to put them at ease. On some level she must have succeeded, for they dropped the subject, even Eve, and she gratefully took the water from her friend's hands, sipping and easing the tightness in her throat. Gradually, she began to feel human again, and it occurred to her they still had one very important decision to make so she blurted, "Chips or ice cream?" The answer was swift and unanimous.

"Both!"

"It must have taken forever for you to pick out something to wear," Sheridan teased Antonio as she gracefully took the seat he offered her, winking at Pretty when the young girl tried to hide her laughing smile from Antonio when he performed the same courtesy for her.

Antonio gave his black tee-shirt a perfunctory glance and raised a brow at the two blondes as he claimed the seat between them for his own. When he noticed Gwen and Ethan sporting similar smiles, he smirked and said, "You don't see me taking an hour to get ready."

"Let's not turn this into a guys versus girls thing," Ethan spoke diplomatically.

"Sweetheart," Gwen reminded him, causing them all to dissolve into helpless laughter. "You were the last one in the car."

Ethan flushed with embarrassment, even his ears were a very becoming shade of pink, and he focused intently on unfolding his napkin over his lap while Gwen snaked her arms around him and rest her chin upon his shoulder. He sputtered with laughter himself when Gwen kidded him.

"Just don't be late for our wedding."

Unconsciously placing her hand upon Antonio's knee, Sheridan leaned in close, her warm breath bathing his ear, and whispered, "They make a cute couple, don't they?"

Antonio silently studied the pair. It was obvious to him that each held great affection for the other (he would even call it love), considered themselves one another's best friends, and he didn't doubt they would produce cute little blond babies someday should they so decide. Still something was lacking, something he couldn't quite define. But he needn't trouble Sheridan with his evaluation; he didn't know either of them very well, after all. "They do," he finally agreed. His attention shifted elsewhere when a familiar voice greeted them, and his eyes widened in surprise when they landed on none other than his little sister.

Pen and pad in hand, Theresa didn't notice him at first, but when she did, her mouth fell open and her large brown eyes lit up. Forgetting, for a moment, where she was, she exclaimed, "Antonio, what are you doing here?"

Smirking slightly, Antonio replied in the same teasing manner he'd always adopted when dealing with one of his sisters, "The better question to ask would be what are you doing here?"

Theresa faked irritation at him. "Working."

Catching a glimpse of a person he supposed to be her manager lurking in the background, Antonio gave her some brotherly advice, softening his decree with a smile. "Then work."

Darting a furtive glance over her shoulder, Theresa did just that, turning to Pretty and taking down her order. In the same vein, she went around the table, hastily scribbling everyone else's orders down (she promptly dropped her pen in Ethan's lap when he smiled up at her with those blue eyes of his) until she came back to her brother and Sheridan. "And you, Ms? What will you have?" she inquired politely.

"Sheridan," Sheridan introduced (or rather, re-introduced) herself. "And I'll have whatever your brother's having since he's the one who knows what's good."

Theresa smiled as she looked to Antonio, awaiting his order, then did a double take when she realized the identity of the blond staring up at her with twinkling blue eyes. "Sheridan? Sheridan Crane?"

"In the flesh," Sheridan's lips twitched with a smile.

In the seat across from Sheridan, Pretty furrowed her brow in confusion. "Do you two know each other?"

Noticing Pretty anew, Theresa answered her question. "Sheridan used to let me spend hours in her closet, playing dress-up with all her beautiful clothes."

Nothing more than shapes blurred by frosted glass, the vague memory of three rambunctious toddlers play-pretending in front of the tall standing mirror in the corner of her old bedroom seeped back into Sheridan's consciousness, and she told Pretty, "You were there too, Pretty. You and Fancy."

"I don't remember." Pretty's brown eyes welled with regret.

"It was a long time ago," Ethan comforted her automatically. Narrowing his eyes at Theresa, he was gripped by the image of a tiny tot with dark curls, but the image was fleeting, and he couldn't say for certain that he hadn't imagined it.

Blushing under his scrutiny, Theresa agreed. "A very long time ago." Her eyes fluttered shut, and she bit her lip in worry, when a stern voice interrupted their walk through memory lane.

"Does something seem to be the matter here?"

It was the humorless, strait-laced manager, and Antonio watched with concern as the man took Theresa by the arm, bending her ear as he steered her away. His attention returned to his dinner companions when Gwen spoke softly.

"I hope we didn't get her in trouble."

"Theresa will be okay," Antonio assured her, hoping his words were true. His little sister's determination had always been one of her defining traits, and he knew, whatever obstacles life placed in her way, she wouldn't let them hamper her dreams. That being said, he fervently shared Gwen's wish. He sent Sheridan a grateful smile when he felt her take his hand in hers beneath the table, and he turned to face Pretty, who had a (tricky) question poised on her tongue.

"How long have you worked for our family?"

Salvation arrived in the form of a new waitress, and Pretty's question was forgotten in favor of more pressing questions (Where was his sister? Where was Gwen going? How did his most simple, innocent actions keep hurting his family?). Antonio didn't have an answer for any of those questions, but he knew he was tired of the same old status quo. Standing up and pushing his chair back, he decided he couldn't sit back and watch from the sidelines any longer. It was time he worked for his family too.

I don't know how many of you (if any) are reading this, but if you are and don't mind doing it, drop me a line or two or even two words, lol. I'm really not that demanding.

No, really. I'm kinda, I can't think of the right word at the moment for how I'm feeling, uncertain, I guess, about this fic. It's gotten little to no response, and I guess I want to know if anybody out there thinks it's worth continuing. I'll certainly continue to outline events (in my head, on my computer, etc.) for the fic, but I may not be as expedient at posting them. I know it's much longer than my other fics, and that can be a little intimidating, but I personally love digging into long chapters, and I've worked really hard on this fic.

All that aside, give me the lowdown on what you think about a few things.

:D

What do you think of the relationship Hank seems to enjoy with his sister-in-law, Grace? There's genuine affection there, and the Grace in this fic is definitely not the wailing cartoon Passions sometimes (often) made her out to be. What's up with Grace, by the way?

And Hank and Beth? Do you ship it or are you more along the lines (that Hank is trying to feed Grace) that Beth belongs with Luis?

Speaking of Luis...what do you think of the fact that he basically makes this fic's version of the Youth Center his home?

He sure does have a bug up his ass about the Cranes and people like them.

At least Reese provided (I hope) some comic relief.

Take a guess as to which blonde Antonio is interested in. Go ahead. I'm interested to read your guesses.

What do you think of Pretty's crush? And the fact that Ethan actually appears to have a brain?

LOL!

There's definitely a lot left unspoken between Luis and Hank, huh?

Kay can pretend all she wants, but Fox Crane has her intrigued.

And Theresa and Ethan meet. There weren't exactly any fireworks, maybe more like sparklers, lol.

Is Theresa in trouble? And what in the world is Gwen up to?

I'm interested in reading your thoughts on these questions and more.

Feedback is much adored.

Thanks so much for reading (even this novel of an author's note, lol).