The following Thursday evening following the golf cart fiasco, Jill Casey laid back in a lawn chair and admired the sunset from her back porch. A freshly poured glass of wine rested on the table, and a satisfied smile rested on her lips. The yard sale had done wonders for her peace of mind, and the absence of everything that was Charlie had a lot to do with that. A seagull called out as it flew over, and Jill raised her glass in a polite toast, before sipping the thick Cabernet. "To freedom."

The cell phone's ring violently cut into the serenity of the moment, and Jill almost spilled wine down her shirt. She groaned, sat up and flipped the phone open. "This is Jill Casey."

"Jill? It's Divya."

Relieved it wasn't business related, Jill relaxed. "Oh, hi Divya. How are you?"

There was a pause before Divya's English accented voice answered, "That is a surprisingly loaded question."

Jill's eyebrows perked up. "Oh-kay…Do you…want to talk about it?"

"Absolutely not. But...are you busy? Would it be terribly inconvenient if I stopped by?"

"Sure. I mean, no that would be great. Come over whenever you like."

"Actually…I'm already outside your front door. I didn't want to be rude, although I believe I still-

Jill blinked then smiled, "Divya, it's no prob- Oh this is silly." She hung up, then got up, and walked straight through her house and opened the front door to find Divya still on the phone. Divya's shoulders relaxed, and she smiled. She clapped her phone shut. She winced a bit. "I'm sorry about this."

Jill waved a hand flippantly at her apology, then waved her inside. "Divya, please. It's fine. Come on in."

Divya, crossing the threshold, stopped in the entryway. She peered inside the adjoining living room. "So, are you enjoying your newly "renovated" home?"

Jill rolled her eyes and smiled. "You have no idea. It's so much less…crowded."

"In more ways than one, I would presume."

"Exactly. Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine? I think I have a few beers in the fridge."

Divya shook her head then stopped and gave Jill a funny look. "Have…have you eaten? I hate to be presumptuous, but I could desperately use-"

"A girl's night out?" Jill smiled impishly.

Divya's eyes widened. "Yes!"

Jill nodded. "Sounds like just what the doctor ordered. Pun fully intended." She grinned and walked into her living room. "Just let me change clothes. Make yourself comfortable."

Divya walked slowly toward the open door to the back porch, taking a moment to admire the very same sunset.

Jill called out from her bedroom, "Got anything in mind? Or is food really kind of secondary?"

Divya furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Jill called out again, "I don't know. I just get the feeling the primary objective is alcohol. Correct me if I'm wrong."

Divya opened her mouth but stopped. She then shrugged and smiled a bit guiltily. "Your keen powers of observation haven't failed you. You are, in fact, right on the money."

Jill walked back, dressed in a pretty sundress and heels and whispered conspiratorially, "I had a feeling." She spoke up, "Shall we?"

Divya smiled vibrantly. "Yes. I believe we shall."

Meanwhile…

Dieter opened the front door of Shadowpond's mansion and afforded Evan his robot stare. "Good evening, Mister Lawson."

"Hey, Deets, is Boris around?" Evan stepped up on his toes, looking over Dieter's shoulders like a kid in a parade crowd.

Dieter muttered to himself with a clearly vexed expression, "Deets…" He blinked and collected himself. "Mr. Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz is…around, yes. May I tell him to what this in reference?"

Evan nodded. "Payback."

Dieter's eyes narrowed.

And Evan's eyes widened. "No no no. No. Not…not literally. Well, actually yes: literally. I mean payback as in compensation. Not revenge. I'm not stupid." He was met with Dieter's wordless stare. "I'm not that stupid. Besides, Boris has been super-cool to me and Hank." Dieter blinked a few times, but continued to stare. Evan notified him, "I'm done."

Dieter gestured to Evan to come inside then guided him down the hall to an elaborately decorated sitting room. "Please wait here, and I will inform Mr. Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz that you wish to see him." Dieter disappeared through a doorway.

"'Preciate it."

Evan waited only a few moments before Dieter silently reappeared. "He will see you now, Mister Lawson." Evan's back was to him, and he jumped at his voice. "Dieter, you are like a ninja."

Dieter led Evan down a series of hallways down to another, homier living room. A giant fireplace dominated the far wall and double French doors made up an adjoining wall. In the corner of both said walls, Boris sat in a comfortable looking chair, dressed in casual clothing. Well, casual for him: an open-collar shirt with khaki dress pants and what Evan surmised to be Italian shoes probably worth more than the recently deceased golf cart.

Soft classical music played from a speaker set into the ceiling.

Boris looked up and set aside an old non-descript book with Russian lettering. He stood. "Mister Lawson, what can I do for you?" He eyed Dieter and nodded. "Vielen Dank. Das wird alle sein." Dieter nodded once and turned on his heel, leaving Evan and Boris alone.

Evan stepped down into the comfy room. He smiled and gestured to the fireplace. "Bet that doesn't get a lot of play this time of year. Hey, what're you reading?"

Boris absently looked back to his book. "Fathers and Sons. Ivan Turgenev." He turned back to regard Evan with his unreadable expression. Well, there was some thinly disguised annoyance in it.

Evan brightened and smiled knowingly, "Always been one of my favorites."

"Really? You don't strike me as an existential nihilist, Mister Lawson."

Evan just stared, wide-eyed. "I could pretend I knew what that meant, but I think I'd just be wasting your time in the vain attempt."

"I appreciate the consideration. I'd hate for you to waste my time." He let that hang in the air, providing Evan with an expectant look.

"I hear you." He stepped forward, reached into his back pocket and retrieved a folded up piece of paper, which he handed directly to Boris. "Listen, I appreciate how cool you were about the whole…" He used his hand to mimic the golf cart going off a cliff, letting out a whistle as it fell, then made a explosion sound as it hit the bottom. "…thing. But you already do enough for HankMed…like way enough to have to put up with us…me destroying your property as well."

Boris unfolded the check and examined it for a few seconds, before re-folding it. "I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Lawson, but it's unnecessary. I understand that accidents happen."

Evan grinned easily, "Yeah, but they tend to happen a lot more around me. They flock to me like dirt flocks to Pigpen." He paused. "From the Peanuts? You know...Charlie Brown?"

Boris squinted. "I'm…aware of Charles Schultz' enduring creation." He reached back and picked up his glass of presumably bourbon on the rocks and took a sip. "Again, I appreciate the compensation. If that is all, I-"

Evan squinted his eyes and cocked his head slightly, "I bet you've been out with a lot of women. Haven't you?" He nodded.

Boris's eyes narrowed in return, and his mouth opened, but for once had no words.

"I mean a whole lot probably. You're probably richer than Scrooge McDuck, you've got the suave thing down pat, and that killer stare probably just freezes them in place." Evan met Boris' gaze. "No, not that one. That one's more like a 'I'm going to kill you. Or I'm going to let my shark kill you' look." Evan smiled nervously, and looked down at his feet. "I'm standing over a trap door, aren't I?"

Boris blinked. "I have been in the company of what I would deem a standard quantity of ladies throughout my life. And, no." He flung his gaze to the left briefly. "The trap door is under the rug at the bar."

Evan's eyes shot to the bar and liquor cabinet above it. There was indeed a small rug in front of it. His eyes went big. "Are you serious?"

Boris replied in a deadpan manner, "No."

Evan laughed. "Of course. Of course not. That's silly." He trailed off, "But it would have been cool…" He looked to the bar. "Do you mind if I…?"

Boris followed his eyes. "Of-Of course. Be my guest."

Evan, already halfway to the liquor cabinet, exhaled deeply. "Thanks. I have had the craziest week. Month really. Have you ever had a girl tell you she just wants to be 'friends.'" He employed air quotes. "And then totally come out of left field with all kinds of signals to the contrary?" Evan poured himself a stiff drink.

Boris's expression was one of confusion. One of annoyance. One of shock. One of weariness. And one of curiosity. Mainly he was supremely curious as to how the hell this just happened.

Meanwhile, Meanwhile…

Jill was amazed Divya managed to not spill the wine all over the table. Divya poured herself yet another glass. Jill had lost count and was just starting on her third and about finished with her shrimp scampi. Divya's plate remained nearly untouched.

Divya took a healthy (unhealthy?) chug from her glass, before pointing at Jill. Her words weren't slurring yet, but they were getting pretty close. "You are lucky. You don't have all this pressure. You don't have…you don't have to marry a man that you hardly know. Well I know him, but I don't know him. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I think so…but Divya, remember I've already been down that road. Granted, Charlie and I didn't have an arranged marriage, but regardless…you see how that ended."

"Yes, Jill, but you got to marry for love. I…I'll never know what that's like. To...to feel the butterflies buzzing around in your tummy…"

"Butterflies really don't buzz, but go on…"

"And and and…and the prickly feeling on the back of your neck. And the way he holds you? The way his hands…do their things that they do. And then he makes some…stupid joke, ruining the moment, but it really doesn't ruin it because that's just what makes him…him. You know? You know?"

Jill wore a guarded smile. "You had me up until the end there. And then you lost me."

"I want the butterflies, Jill. And…and the platypuses-es-es." Her brow scrunched up. "Platypi?"

"Okay, now you've really lost me."

"The duck-billed beaver fluffy creatures…"

"No, I know what a duck-billed platypus is. I just have no idea why it has a place in a discussion about Raj."

Divya's shoulders slouched in defeat, and she practically whined, "It doesn't…that's the point…"

Meanwhile, Meanwhile, Meanwhile…

It was all so surreal to Boris. He sat back in his chair, watching the lips of the younger Lawson brother continue to just keep moving. All the while, the soft music of Frederic Chopin soothed Boris' incoming headache.

"…or do I bust up the wedding "The Graduate"-style? I don't think that movie had as happy of an ending as a lot of people think. And it seems awfully dramatic…and dangerous too: There'd…there'd be a lot of unhappy people there. At me, mind you."

Boris massaged his temple with two fingers, and his eyes wandered to the grandfather clock in the far corner. It had been twenty-seven minutes. Twenty. Seven. Minutes.

"…I don't know Raj very well. But he seems like a pretty stand-up guy. And he's got a lot to offer her. A lot more than…well…anybody really. Well besides you." Evan squinted and asked, "Do you think she's hot? I think she's hot. Crazy. But hot."

Boris switched to his other temple, sipping his drink. Enough was enough. "Mister Lawson-"

"Evan. Really, it's Evan. Especially after we've had this bonding time and engrossing conversation-"

"Conversation implies dialogue. When in fact, Mister- When in fact, Evan, this has been entirely a monologue. I can assure you I am a man who appreciates all facets of the arts, but one-man plays are not at the top of my list. "

Evan shrunk a bit in his chair. "I am so sorry. You're not going to fee-"

Boris closed his eyes and interrupted, "I'm not going to feed you to the shark. I'm never going to feed you to the shark. I am a businessman, not some pulp magazine villain." He leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tight. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, then opened his eyes and continued, "I'll tell you what I am going to do and that is give you some advice, since you so desperately need it. While I wasn't able to absorb every single word you've rattled off in the past twenty-seven minutes and forty-seven seconds, I have managed to grasp the gist of your dilemma."

Evan sat up and leaned forward himself. "Oh that would...that would be awesome."

Boris fixed Evan with a sober stare. "We are not in control of our ultimate destinies; however, we do maintain some control. And if you fail to exert that control, you only have yourself to blame. Take it from me: life is unfair and it's unforgiving. "

Evan's brow creased.

"Yes, I can practically read the word running across your brain right now as we speak: Hypocrite. But there comes a time in a man's life when he realizes money, power, fame...they are indeed not everything. Some men would argue they are nothing. My ideology falls somewhere in between, but everyday it slips ever so slightly toward the latter."

Evan nodded. "Wow, Boris. I've totally been dominating this conversation. If there's something you want to talk about, hit me up, man."

Boris shook his head. "I do not. This dialogue is in reference to your situation, not mine. And I have no interest in needlessly scrutinizing circumstances I cannot change. And, I honestly mean no offense when I say this, if I did wish to delve into my own personal issues, it certainly would not be with you."

Evan shrugged, "Okay, if you're sure. No offense, huh? Ouch."

"Positive. But my point is...you have limited control of your own fate in your grasp. Evan, my advice to you is to take it. Regret is a powerful and more often than not invincible foe." Boris frowned and his eyes rested on a small, locked box on a shelf across the room. He quoted, "'For all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been.'"

Meanwhile, Meanwhile, Meanwhile, Meanwhile...

"I mean...I mean he's so stupid. But he's so witty. Stupidly witty. And-And he's so resi-resi-resi...what is..what is that word?"

Jill did her best to help: "Res-il-i-ent?"

At some point during the evening, Divya had the brilliant idea of adding tequila shots to their girl's night out. Jill, being the good friend she is, had joined in.

Divya snapped her fingers and pointed at Jill. "Exactly, he...he. Ish like the Energizer bunny...takes a licking and keeps on...ticking..."

Jill descended into some drunk giggling. "I'm-I'm pretty sure that's not right."

"Actually that's our motto." Two 20-something guys were standing at their table holding beers. "Evening, ladies. You look a little lonely over here. Would you like some company?"

Jill looked at Divya, eyes wide and a funny little smile on her face. "That was a horrible pick-up line. And I'm pretty sure that didn't even make any sense."

Divya cracked up with Jill.

One of the two guys tried, "Aw, come on, girls. We'll show you a good time."

Divya looked up and squinted so that they'd come into focus. She eventually had to close one eye to accomplish that. "Oh, I'm sure you would, boys. But then my guy would have to show you..." She raised her left hand to show off her engagement ring then closed it into a fist. "...how it's done in...done in Jersey."

One of the guys raised both hands, "Alright. Hey. Didn't see the ring." They gave each other a look then left the girls' table.

Jill leaned forward and asked incredulously, "Raj is from New Jersey? How...How is that even possible?"

Divya was already taking another shot. She grimaced as the tequila hit home, then shook her head. "Nooooooo. Not that one. The other one."

Jill smirked. "Oh so...so we're back on Evan again. Figures...what is it about those Lawson boys?"

"Oh you and Hank should soooooooo get married." Her eyes widened. "We could-we could have a double wedding!"

"Well that settles that: You are definitely more sauced than I am. When is the wedding anyway? Three weeks, isn't it?"

Drunkenness is a funny thing. You can go from carefree giddiness to melancholy at the flip of a switch. And Jill just flipped the switch.

Divya's drunken smile melted away. Her bright eyes dimmed and stared at the recently emptied shot glass. "Three weeks..."

Jill recognized it immediately and wanted to reach out and snatch her words right back up. "Oh, God. Divya-"

It was too late. While not impossible, once booze depression set in, it was difficult to go back. Jill reached across the table and took Divya's hand in hers. Divya's face contorted and the tears welled up.

Jill nodded. "Okay. Time to go." She dropped cash on the table and helped her friend up. "Let's go."

Jill signaled the bartender to call a cab.

Moments later as they piled into the taxi, Jill put an arm around Divya. "Divya, I don't even know where you live. Can you tell the driver where home is?"

Divya barely got the words out.

Jill's eyebrows scrunched up. "Sweetie...that's Hank and Evan's address."

Divya remained silent, sobbing as Jill held her. Jill whispered her own address to the cab driver.