Old Acquaintances

NOTE: this chapter is set three days after chapter 3. Just FYI

Emily Appleton was probably happier than she had been in quite some time. Her son, ex-husband, and she had discovered the greatest lost treasure of American history, they all had a little extra money in their pockets, (which was never a bad thing), and Patrick was better than ever; in more ways than one.

The buzzing dryer brought her from her thoughts, and she smiled over at her lover as he began emptying the machine's contents into a wicker laundry basket. "Pat, you didn't have t-" she began, quickly being interrupted.

"I want to, Emma," he replied, bringing the basket over to the couch where he took a seat next to her and started folding the few things of his that were in the basket, not once asking for help. The sight made her jaw fall open. "Have you never seen me do laundry before?" The shake of her head made him laugh.

"No, I've not," she replied curtly, a soft smirk tugging at her lips. It was, indeed, a rare site for her to see Patrick doing his own laundry. Of course, it wasn't as if they met up for him to do laundry, but in the final months of marriage, they had argued quite a bit about petty things, including washing clothes and dishes. Soon, he began folding some of her clothing, and the silence it elicited from her made him glance up to see if she'd stopped breathing. "What?" he muttered, setting the set of underwear he'd just folded down on the sofa next to his clothing. He chuckled at her expression and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I want to do something for the woman I love, and her laundry is one of those things I can do."

Together, they laughed before Emily set their clothes in the basket and pushed it aside, then pulled herself up into Patrick's lap and rested her head in the crook of his neck. "You don't have to do things for me," she whispered. "Just be here; that's all I ask." Pat looked at his ex-wife with a soft smile on his lips, nodding in reply to her request.

"Patrick!" she giggled, letting her body lean against the door facing as her exuberant ex-husband pressed tender kisses to her face and neck. "Patrick, we're supposed to be looking for the classifieds." Her words were soft and ended in a swallowed moan, Mr. Gates' lips having descended up on her own to muffle her interruptions.

"You know," he began, his ministrations pausing so he could look his love in her deep chocolate eyes. "I've already found the most gorgeous house just twenty minutes from campus, and I think you'll love it." He moved forward to press a kiss to her lips, but her hand came between them.

Emma's eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly ajar. "Have you now?" she whispered, very much surprised that he had been looking for properties so soon. "What house is it? I may have seen it already, and may hate it entirely."

Her words made him frown, his brow furrowing. "It's a beautiful house," he said, now thinking over every picture, every description he'd read of it. It had only been two days since he'd found it online, (thanks to Riley, who helped him learn how to use online real estate search engines), and it had everything Emily and he could ever want; a fabulously short distance from all of the best places in Washington, and only a fifty minute drive from University of Maryland campus. He'd done all his research and knew he could afford it, and still have a decent amount of money left over. After all, three million dollars wasn't that much from five million, and he still had a large sum left from the Templar treasure discovery, (Ben had insisted on giving his father a piece of the reward, and Pat had never done anything with it). "I'm sure you'd l-"

Emily laughed and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, her arms crossing at the wrist. "Patrick," she whispered her forehead and nose resting against his own matching facial features. "I don't need a house. I'm quite content with you moving in here." She glanced down at her shoeless feet and wiggled her toes. "Or I could move in with you in Washington. It's only an extra fifteen minutes' drive." They both grinned at this, and Patrick leaned forward to kiss her, but again she stopped him. "We're using my bed. It's a California King, and, knowing you like I do, you still have that unbearably soft queen."

The man before her feigned a frown, but managed to peck his lover's lips. "As a matter of fact," he said softly, pressing his front against her lithe form. "I bought a new mattress two years ago, and it's very firm, just how you like it." The blush on her cheeks made Pat grin, and, finally, he was allowed to kiss her properly, basking in the moan she let slip from her mouth and into his. How he missed those kisses; deep and intimate with tender caresses.

The buzzing of her vibrating cell phone broke them apart, and Patrick frowned at the small Blackberry phone with hidden disappointment. Em simply chuckled before picking up the device and pressing the 'Talk' button. "Hello?"

"Well hello there, beautiful," replied a disturbingly familiar voice on the other end of the conversation. The voice sent unpleasant shivers up Emily's spine as her face lost most of its colour.

"How did you get this number?" she whispered harshly into the mouth piece, her legs taking a moment to move her from her spot to the window, an old paranoia reengaging itself. "Jonathan, how—"

He chuckled. "Oh it was simple, really," he muttered, twirling a pen between his smooth, slender fingers as he watched her house from directly across the street. "I called your wireless provider, which is the same as it has been, with the most worrisome, exhausted voice I could muster, saying I'd lost my wife's cell phone number, which was in my own phone, in my luggage on the plane, and needed to contact her right away. Of course, they asked your name and why my name wasn't on the bill, and I said that we'd just gotten married and I had a contract with another company. Well, the woman instantly felt sorry for me, and gave me your new number, which is only one digit different from your old one, by the way. I didn't know if you noticed that—"

"I do hope you realize you're violating your restraining order," she snapped, still frantically searching for his vehicle or body on her street. He never called unless he could see her or her house. She only hoped he couldn't see both. "It clearly states you must—"

"Keep myself at least one mile from your whereabouts at all times, never attempt to contact you via telephone, post, email, et cetera, and to seek counseling for my 'mental condition'. I've read it quite often enough to know what it says, dear Emily." His words were sweet and kind to any untrained ear, but to the woman he spoke to, they were venom-coated salt being rubbed into an old wound.

Patrick, in the mean time, was worried over his wife and her sudden nervousness. "Em –"

She cut him of with a sharp hand movement, gesturing he wait until she was off the phone to ask his questions. "Don't make me call the authorities, Jonathan. You know I will."

"Don't worry," he whispered sweetly, a grin evident in his speech. "I only want to talk to your son, and wanted to get your permission."

Emma paused and let her free hand fall to her side. Benjamin? Hundreds of thoughts raced through her head as she tried to come to some reason as to why he would want to speak to her beloved son, but he quickly answered her silent question.

"Since you're not objecting, I'll take that as a yes." Again, his no-doubt evil smile was able to be heard as he spoke. "Tah-tah, love." And with that, he hung up, leaving poor Emily Appleton with a confusion and worry-riddled mind.

Woww that took an enormous amout of time to write and I do apologize for my serious slowness. The next chapter should be out much sooner, but I make no promises at all! You know how horribly slow I am .

Anyhoo, thanks to all who have reviewed and I hope you do so again!