Time was flying by at an alarming pace as the Party of the Year drew nearer. I hit the ground running every Monday morning and would squeeze in as much time as I could to iron out the details for the benefit, but carving out that time was challenging with our extremely busy event schedule. Fridays seemed to come too soon. I was, of course, always grateful for the weekend breather, but I also knew we were that much closer to the event.

True to his word, Eric had been indispensible in helping me think through all the pertinent details in the Greek and Roman Court. This was his job, of course, and it was to his benefit to make sure we'd thought of everything, but I'd quickly learned that not all curators were so easy to work with.

We'd fallen into an easy pattern, usually eating lunch together once a week or so, and sharing a table at Muddy's when we were both there. At times I worried that it was becoming too easy – I didn't want to be his 'chum'. Although, if it was that or nothing, I would, of course, want to have him as a friend. Many times I considered making a move before the party, but the success of the event was too important to my career. I couldn't afford to jeopardize it by changing the dynamics of our relationship at this criticial time. It was only a couple more weeks. My latest mantra? Patience is a virtue…Patience is a virtue...Patience is a virtue. I can't say that my libido was happy about it.

I scheduled some beauty treatments for the weeks leading up to the event. Generally I was unconcerned about my appearance for an event, as long as I was at least somewhat presentable. But if I was being 'dressed' for the event I didn't want to risk being caught unprepared for a photo.

The first in my string of appointments was a midday haircut on Saturday. I'd had my final portrait class and headed over to Muddy's to kill time before my appointment. Eric wasn't there, but I noticed Thalia seated at a table by herself. She waved me over to join her.

"Hey, Sookie!" My sketchbook caught her attention. "What's that?" she asked.

"Oh, it's the sketchbook from my drawing class." I was dying to go to the bathroom, so excused myself.

"Mind if I take a look?" she asked as I was walking away.

"Oh…um, sure." Frankly, my circumstances were too dire at the moment to put up any resistance.

When I returned, Thalia was slowly turning the pages of the book, carefully inspecting each. She looked up at me with a slightly bewildered look.

"Sookie, these are amazing. You've really got talent."

I was notoriously bad at taking compliments, but tried to accept her praise as gracefully as I could. "Oh, thanks. They're just…."

She interrupted me with a mischievous spark in her eye, "I especially like this one." Opening to the drawing of Eric she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh jeez." I said, rolling my eyes. "I actually drew that before I'd even met Eric. I've drawn a lot of people here on Saturday mornings after class."

"Is that so?" She said, entirely unconvinced. "Well, it's a nice drawing."

"Thanks." I took a long sip of my latte, my mind racing for something to say to change the subject. Thalia took care of that for me though.

"Jess and I are having some friends over next Saturday for a casual cocktail party. We wanted to invite you and Amelia if you don't have plans. Amelia already said she could make it."

"I'd love to come! What can I bring?"

"Just yourself," she smiled. "It should be a good group – friends from work, a few neighbors from the building, and some of our old college friends."

"Sounds fun. Thanks so much for including me."

"Of course! I should give you a head's up - a couple of Eric's exes from college will be there."

I was about to say something about how Eric and I were just friends, but once again, she spoke first.

"I know you and Eric are just friends," she said with a meaningful glance, "But it's always good to know what you're walking into."

"I suppose so." This was definitely not a comfortable conversation for me. I took another long sip of my latte.

"You know, Eric has been a complete idiot when it comes to dating for as long as I've know him."

"Oh?" I strove for nonchalance in my tone and stirred my latte coolly.

"The guy is brilliant. He's achieved everything he's set his mind to academically and professionally. He's the most loyal friend I've ever had and he has a great relationship with his family. But he's had one bad relationship after another…if you'd even classify them as relationships." She was partially explaining, but mostly venting to me.

"Why's that?" I asked.

"He's never had to work for them," she said exasperated. "Women have thrown themselves at Eric for as long as I've known him. I've been on his case about it for years. He hasn't thought about what he wants or needs in a relationship or a girlfriend, he's just sort of taken up with whatever crosses his path," she practically spat.

Thalia noticed when I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat.

"You know I'm telling you this because you don't fall into the category of everybody else, right?"

I just looked at her and shrugged.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't be having this conversation with you. I'm sure Eric would be furious with me if he knew I'd just told you all this."

"Well, you definitely don't have to worry about me saying anything," I laughed.

"Oh, I know that," she laughed back. We drifted back to safer conversational ground, and soon it was time for me to go.

"I've got to run to get my haircut. Thanks again for inviting me to the party. What's your address and what time should I be there?"

She ripped a deposit slip out of her checkbook and gave it to me. "There's my address. It'll start around 8ish."

"Great - I'll see you then!"

"Bye, Sookie."

I rushed off to the hair salon with plenty of food for thought.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Pamela had called me Monday morning to coordinate a time for me to go with her to the Gucci studio and select a dress for the party. I was grateful that she'd be going with me, although I had a sneaking suspicion that Sophie-Anne had instructed her to ensure I would be presentable for the event.

It was now Wednesday afternoon, and I was doing my best to not knock over tourists as I tore through the Great Hall and down the stairs to meet the town car that Pamela sent for me. Jumping into the backseat of the car, I glanced down at my watch to see that I'd made up some time in my mad dash and was only a couple of minutes late.

"Ready, miss?" the driver asked.

"Yes, thanks," I panted, out of breath from my sprint.

Within ten minutes we were in front of the building where Stila's offices were housed. Pamela was waiting just inside the glass doors and strode out to the car when she saw us pull up.

"Ready for this?" she smirked. She ran an eye over me and seemed satisfied. I'd worn a simple, modern tunic dress in navy and some of the least comfortable shoes I could find, hoping my outfit would pass muster.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I answered.

She chuckled at me. "Marisa from Gucci will be taking us through the racks of dresses they've preselected for us to consider," she explained. When Pamela had called me earlier this week, she'd gotten my measurements so they'd have appropriately sized dresses for me. We definitely wouldn't be fighting over the same ones.

"Pull over here….next to the fire hydrant," Pamela barked at the driver. We extricated ourselves from the car and she buzzed at an unmarked door of frosted glass. Moments later, the shadow of a woman's figure unlocked the door and pushed it open. Behind the door stood a tall, leggy brunette in a chic steel grey dress – Gucci, I presumed – and impossibly high stilettos. Her glossy hair was pulled back in a severe bun that purposely spiked out a bit. Her forehead was fringed in short, artful bangs.

"Marisa," Pamela said as they air kissed, "this is Sookie Stackhouse from the Met."

"Sookie, so nice to meet you," she said with a practiced coo and shook my hand warmly. "Please come in." We followed her down a long hall illuminated by glowing modern light fixtures. Marisa led us to a door that opened onto a sleekly spare hexagonal room that was largely mirrored and empty save for a couple of chairs, a pedestal and two rolling racks of dresses.

"We've pulled dresses in your sizes that we think would best suit your respective silhouettes. See which ones most interest you and we'll get to work."

Trying on dresses was clearly going to be a group activity. I crossed the room to the rack that held the shorter dresses, which I assumed were for me. Each dress was more beautiful than the next – I didn't know where to begin. Pamela appeared by my side and helped me sort through the dresses on my rack. Within a couple of minutes she had moved four to the end of the rack.

"Start with those. The soft greys would be just right for your coloring."

I'd always been modest and wasn't thrilled at the prospect of peeling out of my clothes while Pamela and Marisa were in the room too. I figured I could at least get into the first dress while they were occupied with the other rack of dresses. I tugged my dress over my head and quickly stepped into the first dress, unhooking my bra and sliding it off just before I was ready to zip it up. I twisted my arm back in an impossible position in an attempt to grab the zipper tab, but the angle wasn't working for me.

"Sookie, let me help." Marisa was over in an instant and zipped it up into place. I smoothed down the fabric and straightened my posture to look into one of the many mirrors and cocked my head to the side a bit to take in the dress. It was strapless, and while not draped, the fabric was rippled in a structural way to suggest draping. It was a beautiful dress, but I wasn't feeling it.

"Try this one," Marisa held up a one-shouldered gown in a warmer grey color. "It's one of my favorites."

She unzipped the dress for me and I shimmied out of it and into the second gown. I loved it before I even looked in the mirror – it just felt right. The skirt formed a trim column that ended right at the floor. It was studded with small square pieces of some indeterminate material that fit together almost like a sheet of thin tiles and gave off a soft, subtle sheen. The weight of the pieces molded the skirt perfectly to the curve of my hips. Two sweeps of fabric trimly crossed the torso to form the bodice, creating a neckline that gently dipped into a slight sweetheart shape. One of the sweeps of fabric continued up and over the left shoulder in a band of sheerer material. The dress was sleek, understated and sophisticated. Most importantly, I felt completely comfortable in it.

"That's really nice on you, Sookie." Pamela commented.

"I love it. As long as you think it's appropriate, I don't need to look any further."

"Absolutely appropriate."

I sighed with relief.

"Marisa, what do you think?" Pamela asked. "Put Sookie's hair in a loose bun, simple diamond earrings and a diamond cuff? Oh, and some strappy heels in pewter or silver?"

"Exactly," agreed Marisa. She turned an appraising eye back on me in the dress. "The fit is perfect, we don't even need to hem it."

"Great!" I said. "That was the least painful dress search I've ever had." Searching through a rack of designer dresses in your size pulled especially for you had its advantages – I'd be spoiled for the rest of my days. I pulled my clothes back on then carefully returned the dress on the rack.

Before long, Pamela had decided on her dress too and we were in the car on our way back to our respective offices. Marisa was going to have the dresses cleaned, steamed, and sent to us the week of the event. Pamela had some jewelry for me as well as a couple of pairs of shoes in Stila's 'closet' that she thought would work. She was going to messenger them up to me. Another load was lifted from my shoulders. It was the first time in my career I was excited about what I'd be wearing for an event.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The rest of the week melted away and before I knew it, it was Saturday. My day had been booked up with facial and body scrub appointments as well as some errands to prepare for my trip to Greece.

I was putting the finishing touches on my hair when I heard a "Knock, knock!" from the living room.

"Back here!" I yelled to Amelia.

A few seconds later her bright face was hovering over my shoulder in the mirror.

"Cute dress!" she said in a surprised tone.

"Oh, thanks. I just got it a couple of weeks ago."

She looked more closely at the dress – it was chicly casual – a loose fitting boat neck mini dress in a deep teal silk. "I really like it. Jesus, you're skin is glowing. What gives?"

I laughed. "Thanks. I had a day of beauty at the spa. Trying to get prepped for the benefit at work you know."

"Mmmhmmm." She said with narrowed eyes. "So, I suppose Eric will be at the party tonight."

A nervous flutter shot through my stomach. "Of course he will. Jess and Thalia are two of his best friends."

"Oh good! If the party's a snooze fest I can watch you two pretend that you don't want to jump each other's bones. It's highly entertaining, you know."

I rolled my eyes and looked down at my watch. It was just eight o'clock and I didn't wanted to arrive until things had gotten rolling.

"Do you want a glass of wine or a something?" I offered.

"Ooooh, yes. I'd love a gin and tonic."

"I'll fix them – you put on some music."

I brought the drinks into the living room and sank down into a chair.

"So what's been going on with you? I feel like we haven't really talked in a couple of weeks." I asked.

"Oh nothing. The play wrapped up, I've had a couple of auditions, the usual. I was sick with some virus for a little bit, but I'm fine now. Just finished up my prescription today."

"Are you sure you can drink with the pills?" I asked a little concerned.

She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine. It's probably already out of my system."

"Well, why don't you take it easy tonight, okay?"

"Sure, Mom."

There was no use fighting with her, so I just changed the subject. I would keep a close eye on her tonight though. Around 8:30 we left for the quick walk to the party.

The dull roar of the party could be heard as soon as we got off the elevator. Thalia answered the door just a few seconds after I'd knocked. We were hit by a wall of hot air that smelled like every party I'd ever attended – a combination of wine, puff pastry and a cocktail of perfumes. I passed Thalia a bottle of wine and some flowers, and she in turn, handed us glasses of wine and introduced us to the guests closest to the door.

I was chatting with Thalia's next door neighbors about green roofs when I caught Eric's eye from across the room. I gave him a little smile and continued the conversation, but had a hard time maintaining an interest in the differences between intensive and extensive roof systems. I began working my way with Amelia conversationally across the room. I'd come to the end of Thalia's neighbors who were all grouped closest to the door and moved into the grouping of her co-workers.

Progress across the room to Eric was excruciatingly slow. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't keep my eyes from flicking to him from time to time. Every time I looked, he seemed to catch me. Finally, we reached the far side of the room, filled with Thalia, Jess and Eric's friends from school.

We were nearly to Eric when a rough voice offered, "Hi, I'm Kara." I turned to see a pretty redhead with a riot of freckles across her face and sea green eyes.

"Hi, I'm Sookie and this is Amelia."

"Jeez, Sookie. I can speak for myself," said Amelia in a belligerent tone. I detected the beginning of a slur and noticed she was swaying a bit. She turned and dramatically announced to Kara, "Well, I guess you already know, but I'm Amelia."

Kara laughed. "So, how do you know Thalia and Jess? Co-workers?"

"No, no. I met them through Eric." I said quickly before Amelia could say anything.

At the mention of Eric, Kara's eyebrows raised. "Oh? Are you and Eric an item?"

I shook my head. "We work together. And live in the same neighborhood."

"Ah," she nodded. "Eric's got a history with some of the ladies here – myself included. I mean, water under the bridge and all. It was college. And it was a long time ago." She waved a hand to indicate just how long ago and I noticed her wedding ring.

I shrugged, "I guess everybody's got a history, right?"

Again, she laughed, "True. So true."

"Hey there."

"Well, speak of the devil," Kate rasped.

"Eric!" Amelia drunkenly threw her arms around him in a hug.

He shot me a look with a raised eyebrow. "Do you want to sit? There's an empty ottoman over here."

I gave him a grateful smile and guided Amelia over to the ottoman and deposited her. Kara joined her and they struck of a conversation about theater – apparently Kate had majored in drama. I snagged a bottle of water for Amelia and stayed close by to keep an eye on her.

"What got into her?" asked Eric.

"Prescription meds. She thought they were out of her system, but clearly they weren't. I think we should probably leave before too long."

Eric pressed his lips together and nodded in agreement then took a swig of beer. "Did you finalize everything for your trip?"

I could feel my face brighten with excitement. "Yes! The books and especially your notes were really helpful."

"So what did you finally decide?"

"I'm going to Spetses straight away and will stay there a couple of days. I had to go after Thalia's recommendation. Then on Tuesday I head back to Athens and take a boat to Skiathos. I'm booked at the um…" I snapped my fingers searching my mind for the name.

"Atrium Hotel?"

"Yes! That's it. Your notes in the book sold me on it."

"I've stayed there three times. You'll really like it. At least I hope you will. The people who run it are very personable and they'll help you make any arrangements you need."

"Right now I'm booked there for the rest of my trip, but I'm keeping it loose so I can change plans and jump around if the mood strikes. I tend to do that when I travel."

We rejoined the conversation with Kara and Amelia who was now listing to the side a bit. Some more of their college friends had joined the group too. "Okay, so I know dating can be hell in the city," Kara announced in a loud, slightly drunk voice to Amelia, "but I'm a really great matchmaker. Tell me what you're looking for and I'll find the perfect guy for you."

Amelia's eyes narrowed to slits as she thought hard on her answer. "Hmmm. Somebody artsy and free-spirited. But with a good job and their own apartment…no roommates. Oh, and no cats."

That combination was going to be a tall order to fill in the city, and I laughed along with everybody else.

"What about you, Sookie?" Kara asked, turning the attention of the group to me.

I groaned internally. I was asked this at nearly every party I went to. Why must married people torture singles like this? And why in front of Eric? I pulled out the standard response I'd developed a couple of years ago.

I shrugged, "I suppose I'm just looking for somebody who will take the aisle seat so I can have the window, and the vanilla side of a black and white cookie so I can have the chocolate half."

"Don't forget tall and bl…" piped up Amelia drunkenly.

Lord help me, I stepped on her foot as hard as I could. I would have kicked her in the shin if it wouldn't have been so noticeable.

"Shit, Sookie!"

"Oh gosh, Amelia! I'm sorry – I didn't know your foot was right there."

She stood up indignantly and began to sway.

"All right, sweetie…time for us to go," I said putting my arm around her back to guide her to the door. "Nice to meet you all," I waved all around.

Amelia just mumbled goodbye. She needed to go to sleep stat.

I smiled at Eric, "See you next week."

"Do you need help getting her home?"

Patience is a virtue….Patience is a virtue. "No, I'll be okay…it's not far. Thanks, though."

"Alright," he said unconvinced. "See you next week then."

We wove our way through the crowd and said our thank you's to Jess and Thalia on the way out. Although it was just a few short blocks back to Amelia's, I hailed a cab. Getting her into her apartment and into bed took some doing, but at last she was fast asleep. I locked up and left. It was a beautiful, clear evening so I happily strolled the ten blocks back to my apartment. As much as I would have liked to stay longer at the party, I'd definitely be better off getting to bed on the earlier side.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Jean-Luc called me in a panic Thursday afternoon. "Sookie! The wine distributor doesn't have enough of the white Sophie-Anne approved for the cocktail reception. I've found a comparable replacement, but I want to send you a bottle for your blessing."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, but send it over and I'll be happy to try it."

"Merci. I'll send it by messenger now. If you can let me know by first thing tomorrow morning so we can get it ordered."

"Will do. Thanks for being on top of this." He was so thorough and conscientious – one of the many reasons I loved working with him. That, and of course his dreamy food.

The bottle arrived just a little after five. I stashed the chilled bottle in my tote – I'd sample it at home instead of the office. I was sneaking out a little early today with the intention of walking through the park so I could enjoy the cherry trees in full bloom. The bridle path that circled the reservoir was lined with cherry trees and absolutely magnificent this time of year. I hadn't had a chance to see them yet, despite the fact it was just a three minute walk from my apartment, and I feared if I didn't see them now I'd completely miss them.

I put on my iPod and entered the park – it was a picture perfect spring day. The leaves on the trees had popped out just three weeks earlier and still were a fresh and tender, yellow-green color. Spring flowers were in bloom and everybody seemed a little giddy to finally be experiencing warm temperatures.

Enjoying the free afternoon, I walked at a leisurely to the bridle path and followed it in a clockwise direction until I came upon the stand of cherry trees just west of the reservoir. The trees, planted decades ago, formed a veritable tunnel with a rambling pathway underneath. The branches had exploded in a show of pink blossoms and enough petals has fallen that the ground was carpeted in a drift of soft pink. My heart leapt at the sight – experiencing the cherry blossoms had become one of my favorite rituals. The fleeting nature of the display made it that much more special.

I found a grassy spot in the sun between a few trees and sat on my trench coat to soak in the late afternoon sun. Between the sun, the music and a slight breeze, I was completely relaxed and on the verge of dozing off when I realized the sun was no longer warming my skin. My eyes snapped open and I saw I was in the shadow of somebody standing behind me. Craning my neck backwards, I was surprised to see Eric, iPod in hand and messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His hair backlit almost like a halo. He was obviously walking home from work too.

"Sorry to interrupt…you looked so peaceful. I don't think I've ever seen you sit in one place for long."

"I guess it doesn't happen often, but I do have my moments of downtime," I smiled. I took in a breath to summon a little courage. "Care to join me?" I asked.

Without answering he took a seat on the grass about three feet away from me. He glanced down at the bottleneck peeking out of the top of my bag.

"Pilfering wine from the museum?"

"Oh shoot. I forgot about the wine." Beads of sweat were running down the walls of the bottle – I'd need to re-chill it if I didn't taste it soon so I could sample it at the appropriate temperature. "I'm supposed to taste it for Jean-Luc."

Eric reached into his pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife with a corkscrew on it. "We can't have you shirking your responsibilities now, can we?"

I smiled and pulled the bottle from the bag and handed it to Eric. "I'll let you do the honors."

He made quick work of uncorking it and handed it back to me.

"Thanks. I'm pretty sure this isn't what Jean-Luc had in mind when he sent this to me, but here goes." I tipped it back for a taste. Seemed good to me. It would be just fine for the reception. I passed it back to Eric. "I could use a second opinion."

He took a drink and nodded in agreement. "In my very unprofessional opinion, I'd say it'll do."

I glanced at his bag. "I can't believe you don't have pop-up drinking cups in your bag to go along with that camping knife." I shook my head in disappointment and took another swig. Eric shrugged and took the bottle back from me.

"My Boy Scout training didn't cover being prepared to drink wine in the park after stumbling across a beautiful woman."

A thrill ran through me at his words and I reached again for the bottle.

"Boy Scout, eh?"

"Actually, Eagle Scout."

I suppressed a giggle that was threatening to escape imagining Eric in a Boy Scout uniform. The wine must have been going straight to my head.

"Hey, I grew up in the middle of nowhere Vermont. We hiked and camped." He offered in explanation.

"No, that's impressive. I had a friend in college who was an Eagle Scout. I know it takes a lot of dedication to achieve that."

"Well, it's not just pitching tents and the Pinewood Derby." I detected a hint of exasperation in his voice.

I pursed my lips, closed my eyes, and covered my hand with my fisted hand. My chest heaved with the effort it took to not laugh. I really, really fought it, but there was just no controlling it after his last comment. Once the first giggle erupted there was no holding back. I had tears streaming from the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I said, fanning myself in an attempt to regain my composure, but another peal of laughter escaped.

Eric rolled his eyes at me and shook his head, knocking back another drink from the bottle.

"Okay, okay. I'm done laughing. I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me." I apologized.

"This from the woman whose required credentials for a boyfriend are a preference for aisle seats and a penchant for the vanilla side of a black and white cookie?"

Whoa. That was a little out of left field. I looked up, relieved to see that he was smiling. "Hey, do you know how often you get that question when you're a 32 year old single woman? I learned a while ago to try to please the crowd with my answer."

"Oh, so it's part of your comedy routine?" he laughed.

I squinted one eye and bit my lip as though in deep thought. "I suppose you could say that."

"Okay. So drop the act and your rehearsed material. Tell me what you're looking for."

The directness of his question took me off guard. I drew in a deep breath and held it, deliberating whether I should mirror the frankness of his question with my answer. We'd been toeing a line for a while now, and he'd just dared me to take a step over.

"Of course I want what everybody wants – you know someone kind, thoughtful, and such - but I don't keep a laundry list of qualities." I absentmindedly picked a blade of grass and twirled it in my fingers. "Have you read Where The Wild Things Are to your nephews?"

He nodded smiling, but I could see the quizzical look in his eye wondering where I was going with this. I slugged back some more wine before continuing.

"At one point, Max is in the forest, alone, and he realizes he wants to go back where someone loves him best of all."

I was on the verge of continuing my explanation, but from out of nowhere a wave of cold grief seized me. My chest tightened and I breathed in a sharp breath. Tears flooded my eyes and my chin began to quiver. Embarrassed by my burst of emotion, I diverted my eyes to the piece of grass between my fingers and watched intently as it spun around. My throat ached with the supreme effort I was exerting to keep a sob from escaping and I pressed my lips together.

My adult life was carefully designed to avoid the pain of loss I'd experienced as a child. My Gran had seen to it that I'd never want for love. She loved Jason and me fiercely – of that we had no doubt. But for everything she was, she couldn't be my mother and father. Nobody could.

I'd made a beautiful life for myself. I had a dream job in an exciting city, wonderful friends, I'd been able to see a good part of the world, I was engaged with life. But the constructs of my life created a ring, not a circle. In the middle of the ring I was alone with ghosts and faint memories.

I ventured a look up at Eric and used my index finger to neatly wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry," I said shaking my head.

He reached out and enfolded my left hand between his two hands. After a minute he said quietly, "Tell me about your parents."

I looked at him and tears sprung back to my eyes at his question. I was surprised that he seemed to understand, at least partially, what was at the root of my emotion. I took a minute to regain a bit of my composure before speaking.

"I don't remember much anymore – my memory is fading. I'm not sure what's real and what I've made up in my mind." I took a deep quavering breath. "There's no one I can ask anymore."

He waited patiently for a minute stroking my palm with his thumb. "Just tell me something you remember."

"Well, they were just crazy about each other. My mom would always say to me, 'You're daddy's the most handsome, smartest, fastest man in town.'"

"Fastest?" Eric laughed.

"I know, that's weird, right?" I laughed and brushed away more tears. "There's got to be more to it than that – I just don't remember…or never knew. Or maybe I'm just not remembering correctly. It feels like I'm trying to remember a dream sometimes – things get confused and don't make sense."

"What about your dad?"

"He worked a lot, but he always made a point to be home in time to read to me at night and tuck me in."

We talked about memories of my parents and my Gran for nearly an hour. I'd never really talked to anybody about my parents much except Gran. My friends in Bon Temps had always seemed afraid to talk about them, going to great lengths to circumvent the topic. When I left Bon Temps, I'd just give my friends the cut and dried story of their death. I'd get a sympathetic pat and an "I'm so sorry" before the topic was changed to something more palatable. It was fine. I didn't really want to talk to them about it either.

After a while my mood had lightened and I'd taken my hand back from Eric. I was recounting the story of trying to sneak back into the house while evading the detection of Gran's bridge group when I was interrupted by a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Is that wine you've got in that bottle?" I looked up to see a police officer standing arms akimbo about five feet away, glanced down to the half empty bottle, then up to Eric wide eyed.

"Yes, it is officer," said Eric without hesitation.

"That's a violation of New York City's open container law. I'm gonna need to write you a ticket," he said removing the battered ticket book from his back pocket.

Eric looked as thought he was going to say something, but I silenced him with a look and dug my wallet from my purse and pulled the badge from Sam out of my coin purse.

I held the mini badge conspicuously in my hand on my lap, feeling a little nervous and a little ridiculous by what I was about to attempt. "I'm sorry officer, I should have known better, my Uncle Sam is a detective with the police department. I guess I got confused since wine seems to be allowed at the summer concerts on the Great Lawn."

The officer's eyes flicked down to the badge and a weary look flashed over his face. I awaited his sentencing with bated breath. After a few seconds of an unreadable look, he snapped the book closed and returned it to his back pocket, unsmiling.

"Alright," he said in a begrudging tone, "but don't let me catch you out here with an open container again. I'm going to have to ask you to pour it out and dispose of the bottle."

"Of course," I said. "Thank you so much. It won't happen again." I moved to stand, but Eric stopped me.

"I got it." He took the bottle over to a nearby grate and dumped the remaining wine and tossed the bottle in a trashcan. I gathered my things and stashed my iPod in my purse and picked up Eric's bag and iPod. Satisfied that we were done breaking the law, the officer left.

"Your Uncle Sam?" Eric laughed. "Would that be Sam Merlotte?"

"Who else could it possibly be?" I giggled. "Good thing he gave me that badge, huh? I never dreamed I'd actually need it." Eric took his things from me and we walked toward the edge of the park to head home.

"Hold onto that thing. It's worth its weight in gold."

"Yeah, no kidding."

We reached Central Park West where we'd go our separate ways. I turned to Eric and swallowed. "Thank you," I said simply. I didn't need to expound. He knew what I was thanking him for.

"Thanks for sharing with me."

I stretched my arms and took a step forward to hug him. Eric pulled me to him and held me tight. I closed my eyes and let comfort and relief roll over me. He gave me a little squeeze before releasing me.

"Good night, Eric."

"Good night." He smiled and walked a couple of steps backwards before turning down the street to his apartment.

I felt totally drained when I got back to my apartment - a combination of the wine and my emotional outburst. Without energy to do more, I dug some leftovers out of the fridge, but didn't have much of an appetite.

Before long I conceded to the call of my bed, snuggling down into the covers. Talking with Eric had been cathartic, but left me emotionally raw too. I would never stop mourning the loss of my parents, of my Gran, and even of my estranged brother. I carried no illusions, however, that I was unique. Everybody experiences pain and heartbreak to varying degrees – pain is relative.

I had to embrace the loss and recognize its significance rather than work so hard to suppress it. Whether it was purposeful or not, Eric helped me to take an important step to refocus my thoughts on the memories I held of my family as opposed to their absence. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks, dampening my pillowcase, but I easily drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

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I worked as efficiently as I could that last Friday before the Party of the Year, closing the loop on a number of dangling details. My goal was to finish in time to still make it to the group home to volunteer since I'd be missing the next couple of weeks while in Greece. I planned on coming into the office over the weekend to work on sundry items like schedules and memos to the various departments so I'd be in good shape come Monday.

Our entire department met with the Development staff late Friday afternoon to go through the seating schedule for the following week. It was a complicated process that would be accomplished through a series of meetings in the Stila offices every evening next week leading up to Thursday. I glanced down at my watch to see I was late to leave for volunteering. At long last the meeting broke and I dashed down to my office to grab my bags and back out the door to the elevator. I impatiently tapped my foot waiting for the elevator.

By the time the elevator came, a crowd was waiting too. They slowly filed on the elevator after me. My blackberry buzzed with an influx of messages. I scrolled through the inbox and zeroed in on one from Eric.

4:55 Eric Northman Missing your iPod?

I clicked on it and quickly read through the message.

Seems we got our iPods mixed up last night. You've got a good music selection, but it's a little heavy on the female side. I took the liberty of adding a few songs – it's in the top drawer of your desk.

-Eric

P.S. Barry Manilow but no Bruce Springsteen? Sookie…that's criminal.

"Excuse me, sorry – I need to get off." I pushed my way through the crowded elevator and stuck my arm in the door just as it was closing. I could hear the grumbling of the people left in my wake. Running down the hallway, I rounded the corner into the department office. My bag slammed into the door as I passed. I tore the drawer open and smiled when I saw my iPod inside. Clutching it in hand, I ran back to the elevator bank just as a car opened.

I jumped on, breathing heavily from my sprint, and only then looked down at it. Clicking on the trackwheel, I navigated to the playlists. I smiled when I saw one had been added entitled 'For Sookie'. It was tempting to scroll through the songs on the list, but I decided to stow it in my bag for later. In just a couple of hours I'd see what he thought my music selection was lacking besides Springsteen. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say he listened to the classics – The Stones, Clapton, maybe Dylan.

After volunteering I returned home for a relaxing evening in. I docked my iPod in the speaker system and hit play, curling up on the couch with dinner and a glass of red wine. Elvis Costello was first up – a good start in my opinion. I found myself smiling through every song, and anxiously awaiting to see what would be next. My heart began to race at the overall theme that seemed to be emerging. Then I laughed out loud. Did Eric declare his feelings for me….in a playlist? It felt like high school and mix tapes all over again.

I listened through the playlist two more times, obsessing over every song – analyzing each lyric. I felt so giddy it seemed as though my chest would split in two. Most of the songs were familiar to me; a couple had even been favorites at one point in my life.

Two could play this game. I certainly couldn't let this go unanswered. Both nervous and excited at the prospect, I pulled out my laptop to start. For nearly two hours I worked on the list and finally had at least a respectable start. I had a couple of days to tinker with it before returning the iPod to Eric on Monday.

Before shutting down my computer, I dashed off an email to Eric.

Eric,

Thanks for returning my iPod with new and improved music – I like the song selection. I'll return the favor on Monday.

Sookie

P.S. Back off Barry…..my relationship with him dates back to the 8-track.

I fell asleep with the playlist on repeat.

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I spent more time agonizing over the playlist that weekend than I should have. I edited and reedited - adding songs, pulling them off, then adding them again. I rearranged the order of the songs. I'd like a version of the list, then I'd second guess myself. I made myself crazy.

I was definitely overthinking the whole thing, but that stupid playlist seemed to become crucially important. I made a second, 'safer' version of the list. In the end, I decided the time for being tentative had passed, and went for the gutsier of the two choices. I took a deep breath and loaded it onto Eric's iPod.

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At the end of the day Monday I found my way back to the Greek and Roman offices.

"Hey Sookie, what brings you back to our little corner of the museum?" asked Gary.

"Oh, um….I needed to return Eric's iPod. Is he here?" I asked.

"No, he left early for the day. I'll make sure he gets it though." I breathed a small sigh of relief that he wasn't there.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." I handed the iPod to him and scooted back to my office to collect my things for the first seating meeting at Stila.

Before leaving I sent Eric an email.

Eric,

I left your iPod with Gary. Female singers have been added as needed.

Sookie

I couldn't come up with a wittier email in my present state of mind, and was under the gun to get to the meeting, so took a deep breath and pressed send. Now I'd sit back and see what Eric's next move would be. This was so not how I should be expending my mental energy this week. The best laid plans often go astray, I suppose.

I was a bundle of nerves and not on top of my game like I needed to be for the meeting with Sophie-Anne. Fortunately the meeting went smoother than I'd expected it to be. I was lucky to emerge unscathed, but I needed to be better prepared mentally for Tuesday's meeting.

I got in early Tuesday morning to try to get a jump on the day, but my phone was already ringing off the hook. Between calls I noticed an email had come in from Eric.

Sookie,

iPod received - very interesting playlist. Perhaps we should discuss our song selections?

- Eric

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. There was simply no way I could do this until after the party.

Eric,

Agreed. How about Friday? I think we're both a little busy until then….

Sookie

I received a message back instantly:

Friday it is.

-Eric

A/N So....playlist confessionals? Really? I don't know, do you think it's kind of great or too corny for words? I was always a sucker for a mix tape. Obviously.

They worked really hard on those playlists - you can check them out at www dot 8tracks dot com ....enter Pfloogs72 and they should both pop up. I've also posted the link to both on my profile page. Also posted on the profile page is a link to the cherry blossoms in the park and a photo of Sookie's dress for the party.

If playlists aren't your thing or you're a big fan of Cliff Notes and want the abridged version, then on the playlist for Sookie just listen to 1) I Don't Want To Lose You Yet and 2) 40 Dogs. On the playlist for Eric try the last two 1) The Story and 2) Mountain and the Sea

As always, thanks for reading....and for reviewing!!