Chapter 11

~ Arrivals ~

Katrina sat on the bed brushing her hair as Bea re-entered the guest room they were sharing at Tino and Livia's house. "Who was that calling you so early?" she asked.

"It was Roman. She's coming here a day early. She was calling between legs of her flight to tell me she'll arrive this afternoon." Here Bea lowered her voice, "I guess Livia's going to fix her up on the couch in the study. Thank goodness there are only two twin beds in this room so we won't have to listen to her snoring."

"Yeah," Katrina grimaced, thinking to herself, Too bad for me Roman's not the only one who snores. Out loud, she mused, "I wonder what made her change her schedule?"

"Oh it was that Sergio, of course. He's been phoning her every couple hours since they parted, and she's thoroughly besotted with him. It seems his latest movie already had its showing in Santa Barbara, and rather than stay for the rest of the film festival he wants to come directly here. He and his boys and that moody cousin of theirs are taking rooms at the local hotel."

"I thought they were going to Disneyland first. Now why are they coming early?"

"Well, of course, Roman thinks it's all about her, so I didn't have the heart to tell her that he's coming to see me. The studio that's filming When Hell Freezes Over has fallen out with the director they hired, so he's gone and Sergio diRossi is the replacement. He wants to get together with me to talk about the script and some plot points, as he wants to get busy storyboarding it right away. But of course, he called and told Roman it's because he can't be away from her another minute. She's so excited because when he hung up he said, 'Ciao, tesora.'"

"Goodbye, darling?" Katrina didn't know much Italian, but she knew enough to recognize that affectionate greeting.

"Yes. Again, I didn't have the heart to tell her that for film folk, 'darling' doesn't really mean anything special. They call everyone darling. They call their poodle groomers darling."

"I guess that's true, but Bee, if you'd been with us on the plane, the way Sergio was looking at Roman, I do think he is quite attracted to her. More than to his poodle groomer, certainly."

"Well, Livia's still in bed, but I think I heard Tino up earlier so they're probably awake. I better go alert them to expect additional company. And I also have to call Feddy and Elena to get the teens ready to entertain Sergio's two boys this afternoon. Don't know what the cousin will occupy himself with, but I got the impression he had some errand to run here in town, too."

"The cousin has a name, you know," admonished Katrina. "It's Bassanio. I do hope he's recovered some from the shock I seemed to give him. I think I'd better stay out of his way while he's in the neighborhood, as my appearance seems to upset him. Too bad, because he is attractive. I would have liked to get to know him better—just as a friend, of course. Come to think of it, I don't even know what he does for a living. I wonder what his errand might be. It's possible we'll run into him anyway." With that, she resumed her brushing, though her hair looked perfectly fine already. Why she would want it to shine any more than usual today was a mystery she didn't ponder.

* * * * * * * * *

The door flew open even before Stephanie had knocked. She found herself facing a wild-eyed Edward and immediately registered the considerable disappointment on his face.

"Oh, it's you," he said dully, and then, pulling himself together, "I'm sorry, that was rude, please come in, Stephanie. Thanks for coming."

"You were expecting me, weren't you?" the Aussie asked uncertainly. "Just now, you seemed surprised . . ."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean . . ." he ran a hand through a wild and unruly thatch of hair, so uncharacteristic of the usually impeccable young lawyer. "It's just, Rachael is still in a bad way, and we're waiting for her medication to be delivered. Right now, every minute is a torment for her."

"Is it coming from the drug store? Because if you like, I could hop over for you and pick it up."

Edward smiled wearily, ruefully. "No, what she needs is a highly expensive, specialized formula that has to be imported. Her ailment is quite rare in these parts so there's somebody bringing the treatment here from overseas."

"I see." She really didn't, but that was none of her business, she decided. "Well, where are the twins so I can let you get back to your wife?"

A sharp moan, almost a muffled scream wafted down to Stephanie from the master bedroom. Edward's eyes shot desperately up the stairway, then back at his visitor. "Look, come up with me, will you? I have to dress the twins and in the meantime you can look in on Rachael. I'll have the kids ready for you in a few minutes."

Pushing the bedroom door open gently, Stephanie was truly shocked at the sight confronting her. Rachael's eyes seemed sunken into their sockets and her skin was deadly pale. The lady of the house gave a little whimper and reached out her hand to her best friend. "Thank God you're here, twinnie. I wouldn't want Vanna and Ricco to see me like this."

"Rach, what the hell is the matter with you? I've heard of difficult pregnancies, but this . . ." she shook her head in bewilderment.

"The baby. It's kicking up a storm inside of me, seems totally restless."

"Kicking? Already? I thought you were only a few weeks gone."

"Apparently I miscalculated." Her expression turned wistful. "Steph, I was so looking forward to when you feel those first gentle little inner scramblings. You know, when you guide your husband's hand to your tummy for the first time and he feels the wonder of life within you and suddenly it's real for him and he smiles. The way it was with Gio when I was carrying the twins. But then last night, all of a sudden this started up. It's like the being inside me is taking karate chops, trying to bust it's way out of the womb through my stomach wall."

Her friend stared at her in alarm. "That sounds awful! There has to be more to this than just being off on the timing of your pregnancy."

Rachael opened her mouth to answer, but instead cried out, clutched at her stomach and grabbed the nearest bedpost. For a moment she seemed to be gasping for air as she struggled to maintain her balance. Stephanie was horrified, observing her friend's still relatively flat belly distort as though under attack from within. At last Rachael regained some measure of composure.

"You're right," the young mother admitted hoarsely. "It's not a normal pregnancy. Edward explained that there's a congenital and incurable condition that runs in his family. It must have been passed on to our baby."

"Like sickle-cell anemia or Tay-Sachs disease?"

"I don't know. I guess. Apparently that's why he's been so insistent we not have more kids. I don't know why he didn't tell me before, but it wouldn't have mattered. I only got pregnant by accident. Anyway, Steph, I already love this baby—it is Edward's, after all—and I don't want to lose it."

"Pretty powerful baby, it looks like."

"I don't understand everything, I just want it to be safe. And I want to stop hurting. Anyway, let's talk about something else for awhile, okies? So I don't have to think about it. Anything new with you and Val?"

"Well, did you hear his brothers were in a plane crash yesterday?"

"Omigod, are they hurt?"

"Amazingly, no. But he was so moved by the miracle of them being saved that it led him to make, well, sort of a declaration to me today."

The young Scot's eyes widened. "Steph! He proposed?"

"Not exactly, but he . . . I guess you could say he proposed to propose. In the future, you see, after he gets set up in business. He wanted to let me know it's coming. I'm so happy! I've been waiting . . ."

At this point, Rachael's husband inserted his head into the room. "Stephanie? The kids are ready now. They're across the hall playing, but their mother's moaning is upsetting them. Can you take them downstairs so hopefully they won't hear any more?"

"Sure," replied their visitor as she stepped past him into the hall. Then her voice dropped to a whisper. "Edward, what Rachael's been telling me—there's something not right here. Things you've told her, they just don't fit. I know you love her and the twins, and that your main concern is just bringing your family through this crisis, but if you haven't been straight with her, you better be thinking of how to start. She deserves nothing less."

Edward's gaze dropped to the floor. Stephanie's heart went out to him, he looked so helpless as he nodded, acknowledging the truth of her words. "You're right. You're pretty smart, aren't you? Anyway, when I think she can handle it, I'm going to tell her everything."

* * * * * * * * *

Rattled by the calamitous tableau laid out on her front lawn, Melissa nevertheless found the grace to offer a welcoming hand to her soon-to-be brother-in-law. "Cris, it's good to meet you. You sure know how to make a dramatic entrance."

For a moment, Cristoforo appeared bewildered by her words, then turned to consider his wounded vehicle and looked back at her with new understanding in his eyes. "Oh, I guess I made kind of a mess of your tree."

"No, no. Don't bother about it." Once again Melissa's instinct to put everyone at ease won the day. "You know, Cal and I have been after the landlord for the longest time to chop down that dead tree before it falls on one of us. Now, it seems you've forced his hand, and I can't thank you enough."

Hearing her reaction, Calvino felt overwhelming waves of love and awe washing through his heart. Had ever a sweeter, more lovable, more forgiving girl drawn breath upon this earth? He slipped an affectionate arm around his fiancée and gave her shoulder a tender squeeze. At the same time, he sighed heavily, realizing that—as usual—his twin seemed only vaguely aware of the havoc he had left in his wake.

The first order of business, realized Cal, was to shut off the horn, which was inflicting on the neighborhood an earsplitting monotone bellow. He signaled his twin to pop the hood, then reached in and within moments their ears were treated to a blessed silence. Unfortunately that silence was soon invaded by a hollering that quickly grew louder as a red-faced balding fellow came racing down the driveway. "Our landlord," Cal muttered to his brother.

The bald man now reached their little group and bent over grabbing his knees, panting with exhaustion from the run. "You can expect a bill for this, Rossi! And I'm taking you to court for punitive damages as well. I'm getting somebody out here to check whether that roof's been harmed, also, and you'll pay for that, too. I knew you were trouble when I rented you this house. You and your cousin here—which one are you?" The landlord squinted at Cris, trying to place him.

"Ernie, meet my brother Cristoforo. You don't know him. Cris, meet Ernie. And, look, if you want to make a stink about this, Ern, remember you had a legal obligation to dispose of that dead tree a long time ago. It's been a hazard since I-don't-know-when. I've sent you a bunch of certified letters about it over the last few months, and even sent over some estimates to have it removed. So now—just like I predicted—it's down. If you know what's good for you, you'll pay up like you should have done all along. Who's to say that it was my brother's fault? Maybe he just parked at the foot of a tree that had been teetering for ages and finally fell on the house in the night. And if it turns out the roof is now breached and anything leaks in on Mel's and my stuff, well, that will be your fault, too."

The lobster hue of Ernie's face was now transformed into a violent purple. "This is outrageous!" he yelled.

Calvino smiled at him calmly. "Good. I'm glad you agree. Apology accepted. Now if we have your check tomorrow, I'll make nothing more of it, okay?"

Throwing his hands at his tenants in a dismissive gesture, the landlord—enraged beyond words—simply growled and tromped off.

"Don't worry, Cris," Cal patted his brother on the back. "He won't bother us any more. But we have another problem. You sideswiped Antonino's car."

"Where?" Startled, the new Rossi arrival's eyes darted around questioningly. "I don't see it."

"Not now. It's not here. You did it the other night, driving over on Glade Street. Didn't you see the scraping of your paint?" And leading his brother around to the passenger side of the car, he pointed it out. "Now that we know it was you, I guess I'll have to cover Nino's repairs. Where'd you come up with money for a car anyhow?"

"Damn!" exclaimed Cris, whistling. "Will you look at that scratch? Never noticed it. The money?" he added evasively. "Oh, I have my ways. It's only an old second-hand Civic, after all. How did you know about me hitting Nino's car, though? I didn't even know!"

"Oh, the dangerous red Honda Civic's been the talk of the neighborhood for the last couple days. You also knocked over a U.S. mailbox and you splashed Feddy when he was changing a tire on the road into town. Actually," he added, "I'm sort of surprised they gave you your license back, after that trouble of yours the last time you were on U.S. soil."

Calvino's brother threw him a look of exasperation. "License! What's wrong with you Cal? Who has time for that? Do you know how long it took me to find your damned house? I've been searching around town since Monday night. Lucky I saw your name on your mailbox. You gave me the wrong address! Look here!" With that Cal handed him a couple lines scribbled on the back of a gas receipt.

"This is the right house number and right street! What's your problem?"

"It is?" Cris looked muddled. An anxious expression laid siege to his face. "Oh dear, oh dear."

Melissa had been observing these fraternal interactions with growing confusion. But she had no interest at the moment in car repairs and driver's licenses. Her immediate concerns were more pressing. Slipping her arm though her new guest's arm, she asked about what was weighing most on her mind: "So, Cris, where's your fiancée? She doesn't seem to be with you."

"Oh, her. Yes." The young man shifted his weight uneasily. "Well, she came separately, you see."

"Really? Is she here now?"

"I'm pretty sure she is."

Melissa could see she was going to have to work through this slowly, one step at a time. Cal looked on, admiring how quickly his love had discerned the best way to handle his brother. "Okay, now is there a reason she hasn't contacted me yet about her role as the other bride in this affair? Because we really need to do some planning."

"Well, I think she just got here. And . . ." Melissa nodded, encouraging him to continue. "And, well, she doesn't know yet she's the other bride."

"She thinks you're getting married at some other time?"

"Not exactly."

"So," Melissa was as gentle with him as with a slow kindergartener. "Your fiancée doesn't know you two are getting married?"

"Well, she doesn't know she's my fiancée."

"Cris!" erupted Cal, "What the f-- . . ." But Mel shushed him and turned back to their guest.

"But this girl—this woman—is planning on coming to our wedding. Is that so?" He nodded.

"As your date?"

"I'm not sure she knows I'll be there."

At that, Melissa shook her head vigorously. This was proving a challenge even for her patient solicitude.

"OK, she doesn't know she's getting married, she doesn't know she's your date, she doesn't know you'll be here, and she's never met me at all. If all that's correct, why is she coming to our wedding?"

Cristoforo took a large gulp, glanced warily at his brother and then fixed his eyes on his questioner. "I'm sorry. She's here because she thinks she's your maid of honor."

* * * * * * * * *

Playing in the study with the door closed, Vanna and Ricco were shielded from the despairing sounds that issued periodically from the master bedroom upstairs. But fretful and naughty, they were clearly aware at some level of a disruption in their lives. The small toy cars Stephanie had supplied for them to play with had quickly turned into assault weapons in Ricco's hands, and just as quickly he turned them on his sister. Since her brother had managed to monopolize the cars, Vanna fought back with the only arsenal she had left—her hands. Slapping at Ricco and pulling his hair, she challenged Stephanie's rule of law as effectively as did her more heavily armed sibling. The babysitter was therefore relieved to hear the doorbell and—after sending the twins to opposite corners of the room—to grab a momentary respite by responding. If it was the eagerly awaited medication, perhaps Rachael could soon be sleeping peacefully and she herself could return her difficult charges to their stepfather.

But flinging the door wide, she realized that was not to be—not yet. "Valentino, what are you doing here?"

"You left your cell home, and I thought I shouldn't call the Cullens' number, lest I disturb Rachael. Look, I invited that pilot to the wedding Saturday. However, he said he can't make it then, but he's free today, so I asked him down for this afternoon. You know, in order that Matt and Eliseo can thank him in person. I thought we could at least give him a good meal, if that's all right. He'll be here sometime after lunch and stay for supper. Anyway, I wanted to fill you in."

Steph nodded wearily. "Thanks, hon."

"Don't think you have to do anything. I can see you're tied up here. Fen and Nena are coming by this afternoon to spend a bit of time with the twins, and I can make supper for all our guests tonight. Just show up if you're able, and if you're not, I'll understand."

Hot tears stung his girlfriend's eyes, expressing at once her strain at the situation she was confronting in the Cullen household and her gratitude for having been given this incredible man as her life partner. Observing her distress, Val drew her into his arms, one arm around her waist, the other hand cupping the back of her head, guiding it to rest on his shoulder. "It's going to be all right," he murmured into her ear, as his hand stroked her hair soothingly. "It's just one of those days we have to get through sometimes. But you're the best, Steph. The best friend, the best helper, the best love I've ever known. You can do anything. I promise."

The tears were rolling down her cheeks freely now. She raised her lips to his and kissed him with all the emotion welling up in her heart. "I can't be the best, because you are, Val. I thank God for you every day." Lowering her voice, she glanced toward the stairs and whispered, "And I thank God I'm with somebody like you, not Edward. He's at the root of this mess, I know it. Look, I have to get back to the kids, but I'll come home as soon as I can. I'll try to be there in time to greet our dinner guest."

As Stephanie closed the door behind her, Edward appeared at the top of the stairs. "Was that--?" he called down to her.

She shook her head. "No, not yet." And with that, she returned to the battlefield.

* * * * * * * * *

Bee had been on the phone again. Tino was preparing brunch, Katrina was setting the table and an ungainly Livia lounged uncomfortably in a captain's chair as once more the young Norwegian made her way back to the breakfast table in the kitchen. "Very odd, this trend that seems to be developing—Roman, the diRossis and now yet another wedding guest showing up unexpectedly early. You remember I told you about my date Archie? Well, that was just him on the phone. It seems his tampon extravaganza or whatever it was . . "

"A sales convention," Katrina reminded her.

"Whatever," continued Bee. "Anyway, his part in it is over. I presumed the plan was that he'd rent a car and take a couple days to drive down from Oregon, enjoying the scenery. But now he's saying he'll arrive today by plane. He'll be at the hotel. He has some errand to run here this afternoon, but later he wants to see me." She frowned.

Livia got right to the heart of the matter. "Bee you know you want to see him, too. Why are you turning your smile upside down like that? I should think you'd be tickled pink."

"What about Sergio diRossi, though? The cousin—that Bassanio—" (Katrina looked up sharply and felt her heart leap in her chest unbidden) "—it seems he's going off on his own somewhere—" (Katrina's heart dove now to the depths of her stomach and she felt herself growing hot, wondering what he could be up to in this neck of the woods—a woman, perhaps?) "But Sergio" concluded Bee, "expects to spend all afternoon with me."

"He'll just have to wait." declared Livia imperiously. "Roman will be here and she can help with that. What else?"

"Livia, this guy Archie is gorgeous and sexy and charming and desirable and . . . and . . " the young writer shook her head.

"And what, dear?"

"And something just doesn't ring true. If this guy's a feminine hygiene sales executive, I'm a rattlesnake wrangler."

"Well, I think you could be if you put your mind to it," commented Livia. "But the point is, you mistrust him. So you have three days to find out what he's really about. Just watch yourself, and don't get caught up in anything crooked or dangerous, okay?"

Famous last words, thought Bee. Half of her mind told her that she should run from this fella like the plague, but the other half was echoing the words she had spoken to a friend previously: "Lynnie, I'm smitten." And of course, that was the half she had to listen to.

* * * * * * * * *

Driving along the main drag of the town, the stranger at the wheel of the rental car saw something that drew him and he pulled sharply to the curb. A lovely young thing with long dark hair clad in gym clothes was strolling along the sidewalk humming to herself. Hel-lo, the youthful driver thought to himself, I wouldn't mind getting to know you better for a moment.

Energized by the kick-boxing lesson she'd just completed, Elena was feeling happy with the world. Looking up, she spotted a face she recognized—at least she sort of recognized it, enough to feel no distrust. She saw the young man at the wheel rolling down the window which separated them. "Excuse me, could I get some directions, miss?"

Elena laughed. "Sure, and let me guess what you want. You're in town for the wedding on Saturday, aren't you? The family resemblance is unmistakable."

The driver shook his head, seemingly perplexed. "Family? What family? I'm sorry, but anyway, you're mistaken. I'm just here for the day."

Baffled, Elena stared. If she'd ever seen a Rossi, she was looking at one now. At least she could have sworn . . . "I was speaking of the Rossi family—my in-laws, actually. One of 'em's getting hitched this weekend. I thought . . ." Embarrassed now, she pulled back from the car, anxious simply to provide the information he sought and send him on his way.

"Oddly enough," said the driver, "I'm visiting some Rossis this afternoon. But I'm not related to them, don't even know them. A Valentino and his two brothers . . ."

"Matt and Eliseo, sure."

"Apparently, they were on my plane yesterday. I work for United Airlines . . ."

Elena snapped her fingers. Suddenly she understood. "You! You're that pilot. The one who landed the plane and saved all the passengers. I saw your photo in the paper, and noticed how you have a Rossi look to you. But I do realize they have that kind of look that's pretty common to a lot of people. I guess you do, too." The young woman moved in closer to the car again. "Listen, to tell the truth, I'm kind of intrigued to meet you. After all, you're a hero . . . Maybe if you're going to be at Val's I can get my husband to drop over there with me in awhile, and we can chat. By the way, I'm Elena."

"Great, I'd like that. Thanks, perhaps I'll see you later. The name is Rhett Renoir." And with that he rolled up his window and pulled away, his brain racing. Okay, so what do we know? The good news is maybe I'll see her later. Hoo-boy, I may need to stick around longer than planned. Of course, the bad news—the husband. Not my favorite word. Oops, I forgot to get those directions. But that's okay, I didn't need them anyway. I got what I wanted.

* * * * * * * * *

"It's all right, Melissa, let me take it from here," admonished Melissa's bridegroom-to-be. Calvino realized that when his brother got into one of these binds, sometimes the best thing to do was to guide him back to the beginning of his story and let him just get the words all out. "Cris, tell me about this girl Ruby. Tell us all about how you met, and why you told me you're engaged when you're not, and what the heck you plan on doing about it now."

Cristoforo sighed heavily. It seemed as though he had spent his entire life confessing to his brother, and was finding it no less burdensome that it had ever been.

"Come on," encouraged Cal, "You were in Siam . . ."

"No, there is no Siam—not for 70 years now—it's called Thailand these days."

"OK, you were in Thailand."

"No. Actually I was in Korea. South Korea."

"And that's where you met Ruby."

"Um, yes. I saw her fall down."

"He probably made her fall down," whispered Cal in an aside to Mel.

"I heard that," accused Cris, but then admitted, "All right I made her fall down, but not on purpose. I was working for a band carrying heavy electrical equipment. It was big, blocking my field of vision and she was right in front of me, and then she was lying on the sidewalk. I felt terrible. This young woman, going her own way, hurting nobody. I dropped everything to see if she was all right, and do you know, she looked up at me with those big trusting eyes and it was like she saw right into me. Like she knew me. Now, later I found out she did, sort of. At least she knew Gio, from TV, so she knew from my face I was one of his relatives. And we made friends. Of course, I lost my job for dropping all that equipment, but what could I do? I had to make sure she was all right. And that turned out for the best because with no job, I was able to go with her to lunch, and then to supper. I found out that she's incredibly smart and talented. And she's important. People from all over the world visit this website she runs. She provides information. She's publicized movies. She knows about photos and downloading videos and copyright law.

"And can you believe it?" Cris continued, "She wasn't conceited or snobby, not at all. There's just a sweetness about her. She was kind and acted interested in me, despite the fact that I was a poor unemployed slob. We got in the habit of meeting in the square near where I first pushed her down. Every day she would be there and my heart would race to see her. I don't know why. And then one day she wasn't there, and the next she wasn't there again. I wondered where she could be. And the wondering consumed me. I found I didn't like spending a day not knowing where she was. I didn't like spending a day knowing she wouldn't be in it any time between when I rose and when I went to bed. And then she came back—she had just been visiting relatives—and I can't describe it or explain it. I just felt this supreme sense of . . . of joy to see her again."

Calvino slipped an arm around his twin and clapped him twice on the back. "You were falling in love, my brother."

"Yes, I guess that's what it was. But I didn't know how she felt. I mean she must have liked me somewhat to let me continue to be there with her. But I didn't know, maybe she just felt lonely. Or just felt sorry for me. Or felt bad because I lost my job. So I didn't want to push it, because I had a good thing just seeing her every day. But then my visa ran out, and I knew I had to come home. And that's when I decided to tell her how I felt. And to ask her to marry me. I tried practicing the words, but I got too nervous. So then I wrote them all down, so I could memorize them. But still I put it off, because I was scared. I've never felt like this before, Cal. What if she said No? I would have nothing. The days went by, and I had my flights all booked. I picked up some money, never mind how, but enough to get back here. The very last day, before I left—I decided that would be my D-Day and then if she turned me down I'd just make a quick escape."

Melissa slipped her hand into Calvino's. She loved a love story. She was so in love herself, she wanted to know that everyone else had somebody to love, too. Especially people she liked, and despite the first impression he had left, she was warming to Cal's brother. "What did she say when you told her how you felt?"

"Nothing really. She kept looking straight ahead of her, not at me. I didn't know if that was because she felt bad I was leaving or if she was just bored. Then I heard the warning come over the loudspeaker that my bus would be loading soon, and suddenly I heard myself telling her that I really liked her and that I was going to miss her, and how much our time together meant to me. She looked at me then with such sweet, sympathetic eyes. Cal, I kissed her. It was the first time. The only time. I forgot I was afraid and just went for it. And—and she kissed me back. There was this feeling of relief that came pouring through me when she did that. Right then and there I knew I had to have her for life, and I started to ask if she'd wait for me. I wanted to say I'd send for her, that I wanted her forever. But the announcement came that passengers had to board the bus right then because it was leaving."

"So you never did ask her or even tell her you love her. Then why did you tell me you were engaged?"

"Well, I was on the bus when your call came through. And after all, I'd made my decision by then, so it seemed like it was just a technicality."

"You'd made your decision, but Ruby hadn't."

"You keep calling her Ruby!" Cristoforo sounded frustrated now.

"You told me that's her name. Isn't it?"

Cris looked down at the backs of his hands, avoiding his twin's eyes. "No," he admitted. "I was afraid if I told you who she really was, you'd get in touch with her. You'd tip her off before I was ready."

"But I don't even know her. Or do I?"

"Not exactly. But I imagine Melissa does, at least from long distance. You see," he looked up, sighing heavily. "She's a Getty Girl."

Mel's ears perked up. "From Korea? A Getty? Omigod, you're talking about Laura! She's one of the most famous Getties there is!" Melissa was finding it hard to imagine this sweet but befuddled young man teamed with the super-efficient woman who ran the world's most esteemed Freddy R website. And yet, there was something about him, she realized, that was utterly charming. After all, he was Calvino's double, or almost.

"But Cristoforo," she continued, "How did she come to think she was my Maid of Honor?"

"Well, I just set up this new email account so I could keep in touch with her. Only I pretended it belonged to your social secretary."

"My social sec . . . ?" Melissa burst out laughing. "Gee, I could use one of those! Unfortunately, it's not in my budget! Anyway, I'm taking it that the secretary passed along an invitation from me to be in the wedding?"

Cris nodded. "I couldn't propose over the phone, obviously, but I had to get her here somehow."

Calvino reached around and hugged his lady love. "Well, at least this simplifies things for you, dearest. It seems there will be no double wedding after all. You hadn't assigned a Maid of Honor because you thought you and "Ruby" would be that for each other, and now she still can be because she's expecting it. Just call her and tell her to get a long purple dress pronto!"

Cris started jumping around now, flustered and upset. "Hold on! What do you mean no double wedding? You promised!"

"But Cris, you haven't even proposed!" sputtered Cal. "She doesn't have a bride's dress and veil, or ordered a bouquet, or had a chance to write some vows. She hasn't even said yes to marriage. And you don't know if she wants a double wedding."

"I'll run and ask her now! Maybe we can still do this. Only there's something I have to do first. But then, I'll ask her. Wait, don't cancel anything! I'll call you later!" He ran for his car and, luckily for him it started up at once, despite its recent trauma. Backing up with incautious speed, he pulled out into the street and screeched off. A moment later, he was backing hastily towards Cal and Mel's house again, and they saw him tearing back up their driveway. As he lowered his windows, he heard Cal shout out, "I heard she's at Uncle Fab's house! Two blocks up—the light blue duplex on the left!"

* * * * * * * * *

Edward sat with his back against the headboard of the bed. Rachael's head lay in his lap, a blanket pulled up to her chin. About half an hour earlier, the child inside her had apparently settled down to rest, thus allowing her a temporary release from her writhing. He prayed help would arrive before it started up again.

His wife's tortured eyes looked up at him. "Edward, why is the medicine taking so long to arrive? Surely the messenger realizes this is an emergency. You told me hours ago he was nearby and on his way!"

"Sweetie, I wish I could control that. You see, there's something I haven't told you. The treatment that's coming—well, technically, it's outlawed in the U.S. So the medico who produces it has to use an experienced drug runner, somebody who's willing to sneak illegal substances into this country, somebody who's done it before. He probably has to take some evasive action getting here. An excuse for being in the neighborhood that puts the authorities off his track."

"But why would it be outlawed?" Alarm rang in her voice now. "Edward, is this stuff safe?"

"Ultimately, yes. The truth is there will be some uncomfortable side effects for you, but nothing like what you've experienced in the last few hours. In the end, the child will come through this healthy and strong, and you will be whole and new again. It's just that the government is impervious to the needs of people like us—my family, I mean—"

At this moment, the doorbell sounded. Rachael's husband moved her gently to a pillow and sprang to his feet. "Be right back!"

Racing down the stairs, he glanced at the door to the study, where he knew Stephanie was ensconced with the toddlers. It was shut. She was apparently counting on him to answer the front door this time. Wrenching it open, he cried out in relief, "Finally, you're here! What kept you?"