"There must be some mistake," Chelsea pleaded to the man at the front desk.

"No, ma'am there's no mistake." The man behind the desk answered in confusion. "The room was booked for two people to stay the night."

"No… no I wanted two rooms," she insisted.

The man turned the book around to face her side of the desk and pointed to a row. Room 405, which had two queen-size beds, wad indeed booked under her name. Chelsea tried to recall exactly what she had said to the secretary. She had said room reservations for two people… Chelsea let out an exasperated sigh as she realized the misunderstanding. "Are there any other available rooms for the night?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the man frowned sadly, "but we're completely booked for the night. I could try to call some other hotels and see if they have two open rooms, but on such short notice…."

"No, that's alright. We'll take the room as is. I'm sorry for all the trouble," she sighed.

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertain.

Chelsea let out another sigh and nodded, "Yes, I'm sure." She took the room key and tried to give him a genuine smile. "Thank you."

She returned to where Vaughn stood in the lobby. "Well?" he asked.

"No good, looks like we're sharing a room."

They took the stairs to the fourth floor and stared at the door of room 405.

"Way to go, Sherlock," Vaughn said irritably.

Chelsea's shoulders slumped, "Well, what could I do? The reservation was set."

"You could have put up more of a fight," he continued. "Aren't you supposed to be a snobby rich girl or something?"

"Yeah, well, I was never really good at this," she said. She turned her head towards him and added wryly, "Why do you think I was 'sent to the farm' so to speak?"

"Whatever," he huffed. He slid the room key and opened the door in one fluid motion. He held it open for her as she dragged herself in, closing the door behind him. He threw his bag on the bed closer to the door and sat down irritably as Chelsea inspected the room.

The first half of the room was like a small hallway; the entrance to the bathroom was on the left side with a closet on the right. A few steps in the room widened into an open space, both beds against the left wall, each with their own night stand to the left. The right side was occupied by a table with two chairs, a coffee maker and an ice bucket. The back wall of the room was a large sliding door, which could be covered by curtains and led to a small balcony. Finally, in the right back corner of the room were a small refrigerator and a TV.

"At least there are two beds," Chelsea said hopefully.

"Hmph," was his only reply. He sprawled out on the bed and folded his arms whilst turning away from her, indicating that he had no desire to be cheered up.

"It-it won't be so bad," she continued unconvincingly. "As long as we lock the bathroom door when we go in to change there shouldn't be a problem." Vaughn looked away and said nothing. "What? You don't have pajamas?" Vaughn flushed slightly but still said nothing. Chelsea covered her eyes with her hand. "Please don't tell me you sleep in the nude."

"What?! No!" Vaughn exclaimed, jumping into a sitting position. "Boxers," he muttered.

Chelsea blinked at him as his reaction registered in her mind. A slow smile formed on her face. "I didn't take you to be the self-conscious type."

"Shut up!" he barked. He flipped over on the bed, turning away from her. "And I better not catch you looking." He heard Chelsea snort, irritating him more. He heard the glass door open and close, and decided Chelsea must have gone outside.

He lay on the bed and stared at the wall. His mind wandered into what they had discussed before, when they were on the boat. He had never told anyone about his past in so much detail. There was something… therapeutic about it. It was as if the burden of knowing had lessened, now that someone else knew. He didn't regret telling her, but he couldn't think why he had told her so much. He hadn't even told Mirabelle and Julia in so much detail.

He pondered over it until he felt hunger pains. He rolled over and got to his feet, but didn't see Chelsea in the room. He went towards the glass door and nudged the curtain aside. She was sitting on the floor next to the railing, hugging her knees and looking down at the pool area. He watched her for a few minutes, but she didn't move. Finally he slid the door open and she turned her head.

"We should get something to eat," he said. A gust of wind blew past the building and Vaughn saw her shiver just a little, though she tried to suppress it. "You should come in anyway, it's getting cold."

Chelsea stood and stretched slowly, stiff from being in one position for so long. She followed him inside and asked, "Do you want to go to the restaurant downstairs or get room service?"

Vaughn thought for a moment. "Which one is faster?"

"Probably room service," she answered, picking up the menu from the table. Vaughn joined her and looked at the menu from over her shoulder. When they each made their decision, Chelsea called it in. Chelsea had been right that the room service would be faster, because within twenty minutes they were knocking on the door. The waiter wheeled the cart into the room and placed the covered plates on the table while Chelsea filled out a receipt. With the receipt and the platinum card, the man bowed out and said he would return for the plates in half an hour.

"Have you had that card with you all this time?" he asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"No. I had the driver bring it with him when he picked us up." Then she waved her hand, "Even if I did have this when I was on the island, I wouldn't have used it."

"Why not? You could have expanded the farm by twice the size it is now." It didn't make sense to Vaughn for someone to have money and not use it.

Chelsea scowled at the suggestion. "It's not my money. It's the company's money, my parents' money. It doesn't have any value to me. I didn't do anything to earn it." She chuckled, "Why do you think so many rich kids turn into snobs? No one appreciates what they take for granted, because they see it as a guarantee, something they won't ever be without." She gave him a side long look. "I wasn't about to run away just to use my parents' money. For one thing they would have found me, and for another it wouldn't have been anything I'd earned on my own. To me it's dirty money."

Vaughn chuckled at this term. "Money is money."

"Struggle is what makes it worthwhile," Chelsea countered. She decided to change tactics. "Think of it this way: if my parents' money had paid for everything I did on the ranch, giving the ranch up would have been easy for me." Vaughn looked about to argue but Chelsea held her hand up to stop him. "It wouldn't have held any personal value to me. It would just have been one more thing my parents bought for me."

"But aren't you always complaining about how much things cost, and what you can't afford to build?" Vaughn responded.

Chelsea smiled, "You've got me there, but I can tell you that even though I was complaining I was still happier than I would have been relying on someone else. I started that ranch by scavenging the island for herbs and flowers to live on and ship, and I wouldn't have it any other way. That was my hard work, and that money was earned from my efforts. That means more to me than any platinum card or family fortune."

Vaughn let the argument drop at that point as they both focused on eating. While they did, he considered Chelsea's point of view, and how different it was from his own. He had always had to struggle for money to live on, so money meant survival. Chelsea, however, had always had a surplus of money, more than she ever truly needed, so there had never been the question of not having any. But still, she was now in the position he was, struggling for a living, constantly working the fields just to make ends meat. And somehow, this meant more to her than any cushy life she had previously had. He wondered if he would ever consider anything to be more important than money. Probably not, he decided.

The man returned for the plates and with Chelsea's card, then asked if they wanted any desert. Chelsea turned to Vaughn questioningly, but he shook his head and mumbled something about being a luxury. She heard his mumbling, so she ordered two chocolate cakes because she knew he liked them, and partially to prove a point.

When the waiter left the room Vaughn grumbled, "I don't need it. You shouldn't be buying what we don't need."

"Doesn't really feel good when someone buys everything for you, does it?" Chelsea sneered. "As I said before, this money holds no value to me. I couldn't think of enough things to buy that would max out this fortune, none of which I earned on my own. It's just a pocket that keeps filling itself."

"The company must be really successful, if what you say is true," he remarked.

"Exactly," Chelsea shrugged indifferently, "and quite frankly, I find that to be a boring existence. Imagine having this leisure time and money all day, having nothing to do but sit around and spend money."

Vaughn snorted in distaste, "I'd go stir-crazy."

Chelsea chuckled. "Maybe that's why I took to dancing while I played violin. Standing still wasn't good enough."

The deserts arrived and the two of them sat on Chelsea's bed as they watched the television in the corner. Some late night comedy show was on. Chelsea laughed often. Vaughn never let more than a chuckle escape from time to time.

When they finished and the man had cleared out all of the plates they started to prepare for bed. Chelsea rummaged through her bag for her pajamas while Vaughn went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He returned from the bathroom as Chelsea gathered up her toothbrush and pajamas in her arms. He would take this opportunity to strip and hide under the covers. Just then there was a knock on the door. Curious, she put her things back on the bed and went to the door.

Now was as good a time as any, he thought to himself and he began to strip off his clothes.

"Ah yes, I was expecting you at some point, Thank You," he heard Chelsea say. Curious as to whom she was expecting Vaughn peered from around the corner. There was a man in a business suit with a name tag. He was holding three garment bags. She took the hangers from him and placed the outfits in the closet.

"It's no problem at all Miss Chelsea…, well its Madam President now, isn't it? Despite the grim circumstances, a lot of us back at the studio are very glad that you're finally back. How long will you be staying?" The man talked a mile a minute.

Chelsea waved her hand at him and laughed. "No, no, Chelsea is just fine, Miss if you still can't help it. I'm afraid I won't be her long. We're leaving just after the funeral. I can't leave the farm for very long."

The man's expression turned to disappointment. "Only for one day? But who is going to take care of the company in your absence? How long will you be gone and when will you be coming back?"

"That has yet to be decided. It's best not to worry about it too much," she said responding to all of his questions. "I know what these two pieces are for, but what's this third outfit?" she asked curiously. She opened the zipper and pulled the nightgown out. Chelsea's face went bright red at the site of the garment. "Wha-! How…where did you find this?!"

"We heard you would be in town for the night, so the driver took the liberty of adding your old nightgown to the outfits you requested. We weren't sure if you had anything appropriate to sleep in."

"I'm living on a farm, not in a gutter! I do have a house on that island you know." As she sputtered excuses and requests for him to take it back, Vaughn took a closer look at what was on the hanger. It was a silk nightgown with thin straps, a form-fitting top that would only cover what was necessary, laced in the middle, with fabric flowing down the center and sides. The center piece of fabric, however, was see-through. He quickly ducked back around the corner and continued what he had been doing. While removing his jeans an image of Chelsea and the nightgown flashed through his mind. His leg caught and he fell face first onto the bed.

The door closed and Chelsea let out a long sigh that turned into a groan. Vaughn straightened himself and tried to act as though he hadn't seen what transpired. The garment was hanging from her arm.

"What… what is that?" he asked nervously. He couldn't decide if he was nervous or… no, definitely nervous.

"Fire wood," she said sarcastically. She sighed again and held it up for her own scrutiny. "My kingdom for a long t-shirt and shorts or sweatpants, but no, my mother insisted that I wore stuff like this."

"You're… not actually going to wear that, are you?"

Chelsea regarded him for a moment. "Of course not." Vaughn wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. "I'll return it tomorrow with the other outfits. My pajamas are just fine."

"What other outfits?" he asked.

"I had them bring me something from the studio suitable for a funeral." She hesitated for a moment before she continued. "I had them bring something for you, too."

"I don't need it," he replied immediately.

"True, you are already wearing all black. I just thought you might not want to stand out so much."

"I don't care what other people think. That's their problem."

"Okay. If you're sure," she said in a tone that stirred some doubt to his conviction.

She picked up her pajamas and toiletries, setting off for the bathroom once more. "Well, I'm glad that nightgown served some good purpose."

Confused, he inquired. "What do you mean?"

"You seem to have gotten over your own nightly apparel," she replied casually without looking in his direction. It was then Vaughn realized he had been standing there talking to her in nothing but his black boxers. So much for hiding under the covers. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," she continued conversationally through the door. "I've seen it before."

"WHAT?!" This was definitely something he did not want to hear.

There was a pause as Chelsea finished changing and brushing her teeth. "I don't mean you, and no, it's not what you're thinking," she added, pointing her finger at him. "I'm talking about male models. I've had to attend my fair share of men's underwear modeling shows. I also spent most of my time back stage, including…," and now she seemed slightly embarrassed, "both the men and women's changing rooms. My parents agreed the sooner I was desensitized, the better."

"Desensitized to what, exactly?" Vaughn asked, slightly indignant.

Chelsea both flushed and laughed at his reaction. "To the human body. It's the clothes you're supposed to look at more than the model. As for what you were thinking… we won't go there." Vaughn couldn't help raising his eyebrows, causing Chelsea to start, "Well I haven't, so let's just nip that one in the bud."

"Ever?" he couldn't help asking.

Surprisingly, Chelsea didn't blush. Instead her features smoothed into a mask. "Depression is an interesting thing; it can numb you emotionally as well as physically. My desire to avoid my emotions overpowered any wish for human interaction. I haven't had so much as a boyfriend that I can recall."

"Really?" Vaughn found that interesting. Chelsea wouldn't have ever been in want for admirers. Robert was an excellent example of such.

"Really. I'm sure a lot of boys tried, but I never showed any interest. Besides, when you're an heiress to a rich company, it's hard to tell whether people like you for you or for your money." Her expression turned thoughtful and she pulled back her covers and fluffed her pillow. She took the garment that was still sitting at the end of her bed and held it, as if it were diseased, at arms length until she placed it in the closet.

"Do you think you ever will?" Vaughn mentally kicked himself even as it escaped his lips. Why was he asking? It wasn't any of his business.

"I'm not sure, someday probably. I'll work on liking myself first before I start looking for someone." Admittedly she thought of him when he asked and was grateful that she was still turned away from him. But she was determined to keep their friendship intact; now wasn't the time to confess feelings, especially with what was going to happen tomorrow.

"Well, I think I'm going to go to sleep. I have to wake up early enough to shower and change." She turned to him and smiled. "You don't have to wear the tux if you don't want to, just think about it." She stared at him for a moment, taking in the details she had been previously avoiding. As to be expected, he had a strong and lean build, with muscular arms and the hint of a six pack. He wasn't wearing his hat anymore, either, leaving his handsome face unhidden. She smiled wider, thinking of yet another opportunity to tease him, but decided against it and instead said, "Goodnight."

Half an hour later, Chelsea was fast asleep while Vaughn was wide awake; he was too anxious to sleep. He couldn't think why, as he'd bunked with other people, like the free inn on the island. But then he did know why; all of his room mates had always been men. The last time he'd slept in the same room with a girl, he was in the same bed… his cheeks burned and he turned away to face the wall. The image of Chelsea in that nightgown flashed in his mind once again. This is why she should have argued for separate rooms, he thought bitterly to himself. Curse his overactive imagination!

He slowly turned back to face Chelsea's bed; she was facing him looking peaceful as she slept. It was then that he noticed what he hadn't before, a little plush chicken held tightly in her arms. The idea of a twenty-year-old woman sleeping with a stuffed animal made him chuckle. Then he sighed deeply; he knew he was just being ridiculous. He stared at Chelsea until his eyes began to flutter closed. His last conscious thought was Chelsea's sleeping face.

Vaughn woke up to the sound of running water. He looked over to Chelsea's bed which was now empty. As he rose from bed and stretched, he noticed a note on the nightstand. Sitting next to it was the platinum card. The note said that he could order anything he wanted from room service, and requested that he order enough for the two of them. Scanning over the menu, he picked up phone and ordered. Just as the water turned off in the bathroom, there was a knock at the door.

Chelsea waited until the hotel worker left the room before she exited the bathroom. She wrapped one of the complimentary hotel robes around her frame then stepped out into the open area. Vaughn was sitting at the table, still wearing only his boxers. He turned and nodded, "Good morning."

"Good morning. You're not changing?" she asked. She sat down opposite him to where her food had been placed.

"I was waiting for you, think I'll shower first," he replied evenly.

"Good idea, you should milk it while you can. I doubt the boat or the inn have very private facilities," she teased. Vaughn hmphed and said nothing.

Chelsea turned on the TV to watch the news. Chelsea finished quickly and went to the mirror that was in the main room and began working on her hair. Room service returned to collect the empty plates, at which point Vaughn went into the shower. Chelsea turned her head to make sure that he was in fact out of the room before pulling the dress out of its protective fabric case. Not sure how long Vaughn would take in the shower she put it on quickly, then returned to working on her hair. He had still not emerged from the shower by the time she was finished getting ready.

She tapped on the door and shouted, "I'm going to go check us out. I'll be back in a few minutes." She heard a noise from inside the bathroom, which she took as an affirmative, and left. A few moments after she left, Vaughn finished showering. He brusquely dried himself off and went into the main room.

He went to his bag and began pulling out his clothes. Then he stopped. He looked towards his hat in the closet, then to the hanging bag that contained the suit. He remembered the last time he was in the city, and how much attention he had drawn just walking down the street. Now he was going to be amid Chelsea's family and friends; rich, snooty people who had nothing better to do than judge others. He didn't like the idea of giving them the satisfaction. With a grumble he returned his regular clothing to his bag and went for the suit.

Chelsea opened the room door just as Vaughn was finishing. She smiled fondly at him as he straightened the jacket and began working with the tie. It was only when she stepped up to help him that he noticed her return.

"I see you decided to go with the suit," she commented.

"I don't like standing out," he replied with a slight blush as she worked with his tie. Chelsea was wearing a beautiful black long sleeve dress that formed around her curves and hung as far as her ankles. The buckles on her high heels matched the one around her waist.

"Well I'm glad you did. To tell the truth, you look rather dashing," she added with an embarrassed smile. She adjusted the knot and cinched it up to his neck. She gave him a playful pat on the cheek then went to pack the rest of her things. "If you're all packed up, the car is downstairs waiting for us."

Vaughn went over to the closet and pointed to the only hanger with a garment on it. "Aren't you going to pack this?"

Chelsea looked up to see him pointing to the nightgown and balked. She shook her head furiously, "N-no way. Everything I'm packing is going back to Sunny Island with me. That thing is staying here. I'll pick it up on the way out."

She finished packing and they walked out of the room. With a sweeping motion Chelsea grabbed the garment bags from the closet and closed the door behind her. She turned the key into the front desk, and they went outside to where a black car was waiting for them.

"What, no limo?" Vaughn teased.

Chelsea smiled humorlessly at him, "No, I convinced them that a limo would not be necessary. We'll be taking this car for the rest of the day."

The driver stepped out and opened the door for Chelsea. Ignoring Vaughn's chuckle she accepted the gesture and entered the car. Vaughn rounded the car and opened his own door before the driver could offer. Meanwhile a bellhop filled the back of the car with their luggage. He closed the trunk, waved to the driver, and they were off towards the funeral.

"We have one more stop to make after the funeral before going to the docks," Chelsea explained. She indicated her dress and said, "We're stopping by Rougue Studios to change out of these clothes and leave them there."

"Not that I need the suit weighing me down, but isn't it wasteful to throw these away after one use?" Vaughn asked.

"They won't be thrown away. They're from the upcoming line that will be shown next season. If anything it would be wasteful to keep them." She looked out her window and added quietly, "I'll never wear this dress again, not after today." Vaughn didn't press further.

They reached the cemetery where the funeral was to take place. It was a much grander place than would be expected of a burial site, and Vaughn came to the conclusion that this must be a private cemetery that only the very rich could afford. What a way to spend an inheritance, he thought wryly to himself.

The car drove through the gates and up to the main building. There it stopped as the driver left his seat to open the door for his passengers. Chelsea kept her head down and walked to where the ceremony would take place, her eyes filled with sadness. Vaughn walked silently by her side keeping an eye out for her mother.

They reached the large crowd of people who had gathered to say their final farewells to Franklin Rougue. It looked more like a party than a funeral to Vaughn, with every two or three people gathered in their own circle of gossip. The moment someone noticed Chelsea and engaged her in conversation her eyes became expressionless. She answered all inquiries politely though not in as many words and was on her way as quickly as she was able.

As they moved through the crowd Vaughn heard familiar whispers amongst the gossiping groups. What was surprising about them was that they were not aimed at him, but at Chelsea: "Look at her; even at her father's funeral she doesn't shed a tear," "Typical Chelsea, emotionless as ever," "Here comes the spoiled brat thinking herself so above her company," "Who is that with her? He's gorgeous! How could Chelsea land a guy like him?" "She probably tricked him into it; I'll be he doesn't even know what she's really like," "Oh my god, have you heard? Apparently she's living on some farm, I'm surprised she doesn't look all dirty," "Maybe they sent her there to make her more human," "I heard it was some kind of crash, and wouldn't you know she didn't even tell them she was alive!" "Oh, poor Clarice, to have a daughter like that," "Poor Franklin too, it was the death of him," "If Chelsea starts crying during the funeral I will seriously not even believe it," "I'm surprised she even showed up."

Behind a veil of serene indifference Vaughn gritted his teeth. Though he didn't know Chelsea's father himself, he couldn't believe the disrespect these people were displaying. These people who were supposedly close friends to the family, who had known Chelsea all of her life, who didn't know her at all. It was no wonder she was worried about coming.

"Just ignore them," Chelsea said, noticing that he had tensed up. "Complaining about others is how they avoid fixing their own character flaws." She struggled to keep from smiling at her own remark; it would only make the gossip worse. "We'll be standing directly in front, if you don't mind." Vaughn shook his head. She was still unused to seeing him without his hat; he almost seemed like a stranger.

This would be a standing funeral, as opposed to people having sits to relax in and gossip at leisure. It was less a matter of money and more to keep the crowd close enough to be shushed if necessary. Chelsea took a place of honor up front with Vaughn right beside her. Clarice was on the opposite side of the casket to better glare at her daughter, but Chelsea only had eyes for where her father lay in permanent sleep.

The top half of the casket was opened to reveal its peaceful resident, and the priest began his prayers to the Goddess.

The crowd fell silent as they listened to the narration of Franklin's life and struggles.

Employees, both by invitation and personal choice, bowed their heads in respectful reverence.

Chelsea, looking upon her father for the last time, allowed her tears to fall in silence. Vaughn wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

A girl with long dark hair watched Chelsea sadly, while Clarice glared through eyes that burned with fiery tears.

Another individual observed from a distance.

And into the earth Franklin was lain.

Vaughn touched Chelsea's shoulder lightly, "Ready to go?"

Chelsea looked around slowly, as if seeing through a veil; was it over already? Was it a feeling of numbness, or a moment frozen in time, Chelsea couldn't tell. She felt someone shake her gently, and remembered that Vaughn was still beside her with his arm about her shoulders. She looked up at him. "Thank you for coming." He nodded in response, and she allowed him to lead her away from the grave.

"And where do you think you are going?" growled a familiar voice. They turned to see Clarice standing behind them, her eyes boring into Chelsea's with pure hatred. She motioned sharply with her hand, "Leave your escort here; I need to speak with you alone."

Vaughn planted his feet firmly beside Chelsea, showing her that he had no intention of leaving. The fact she couldn't intimidate this man only increased her dislike of him. "Fine, stand there if you must but remain silent. This conversation does not involve you, and you would do well to remember that." He responded to this statement with an almost inaudible growl.

Chelsea touched his shoulder to calm him then regarded her mother with impassiveness. This was as much of an invitation to speak as her mother was going to receive. Clarice took a deep breath to calm herself, smoothing her features into a calmer countenance. And then she began.

"Chelsea, this nonsense has gone on long enough. When we discovered that you were alive and living on that island doing farm work of all things, we were kind enough to let you return to it in hopes that you would get it out of your system, but this silly indulgence will be endured no longer. What started out as a minor irritation has become an outright embarrassment; you have made us the laughing stock amongst the higher circles. No doubt you heard the whispers amongst our friends today; even for your father's funeral you manage to steal the spotlight. Tell me was this what you set out to do when you got onto that boat a year ago? I realize that you never favored the idea of the company, but to purposefully run it into the ground through such ridiculous stunts? It is beyond cruel. No longer, my daughter; you are coming home today. You have done wrong by me and by your father for all of your life and that stops today. You are returning home with me, you will begin your responsibilities tomorrow or so help me your father will be rolling in his grave before he has hardly lain in it. As for that disgusting farm you play on, leave it in someone else's care. No doubt they are more suited for it than you are." She looked at Vaughn in the last statement.

Chelsea's shoulders shook violently as she endured her mother's harsh criticisms. At first she has listened with practiced indifference, but when her father was brought up Chelsea was back to the fears she had felt before coming. If it was truly her father's dying wish that she take the company, how could she deny him? Chelsea closed her eyes as guilt began to gnaw away at her resolve.

Clarice smiled darkly as she watched her daughter's reaction; she had won. She folded her arms behind her in triumph, "Now, we have much to prepare for tomorrow. I have a car waiting for us over—."

"That's enough!" The shout startled Clarice. She looked at the silver-haired man with wide eyes. He returned her gaze with such a ferocious glare that she almost flinched… almost.

Vaughn could not contain his anger any longer. The speech was outrageous enough, but when Clarice signaled Chelsea to leave with her, he could feel her begin to follow, and that was the last straw. It was as if she were being pulled by some force he could not see.

"Are you finished?" he barked coldly. Clarice was too startled to respond. Vaughn leaned down and whispered into Chelsea's ear, "We're leaving." And with that he led her away from her mother.

It seemed that the further away Chelsea moved from her mother, the calmer she became. The tears stopped flowing, her breathing slowed, and rather than looking down at her feet she once again looked forward. When he felt they were a good distance away from her mother, he stopped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," she responded. Something behind him caught her gaze, and for the first time since they arrived, she smiled.

A tall young woman with long black hair walked towards them. With a small nod to Vaughn she brought Chelsea into a heartfelt embrace. They held each other for a few moments, happy to be reunited. At length Chelsea let go and turned her friend towards Vaughn. "Vaughn, this is the friend I told you about a few weeks ago. May, this is Vaughn. He lives on the island with me."

The woman raised an eyebrow at this, but made no comment towards the double meaning and instead smiled sincerely at Vaughn. "It is nice to see that Chelsea has made friends." She looked in the direction they had just come from, "A friend that takes good care of her."

"You saw that?" Chelsea asked in trepidation.

May nodded. "I've been keeping an eye on you since you arrived. I was worried Clarice might try something like this. I was about to step in, but your friend beat me to it. Thank you," she added to Vaughn with a soft smile.

"I…," Chelsea hesitated, "I'm sorry I never told you that I was okay. I—."

"Its okay, Chelsea, I know." May responded. "I won't pretend that it wasn't very hard. It was like losing my parents all over again. You know I you're like a sister to me, Chels." Vaughn looked at May with renewed interest; up till now he couldn't place whom Chelsea had meant.

"Of course, now that you're alive and well," May continued, "you have to send me an invitation so I can come visit you. It's been years since I've been to a farm, I sort miss it." Chelsea smiled at her old friend. Before living with her aunt, she had lived with her grandfather on his ranch. Her mother had left her in his care before joining her husband on the vacation; May said her mother had promised to return soon to reconnect with her father after so many years apart. She never came back.

"I promise to send you an invitation and a boat ticket," Chelsea agreed. "I think you'll really like it there. All of the townspeople are very nice."

"Well that's certainly a change of pace, isn't it?" May said wryly. Her expression turned serious, "Listen, there's something else. I overheard your mother talking with her employees. By now she's switched the driver of your car with someone who will take you straight to the mansion. I don't think she had planned on someone being with you, but no doubt they have some plan for separating you."

"That woman stops at nothing," Vaughn growled while Chelsea let out an exasperated sigh.

"So what now?" she asked.

May smiled. "You're mother isn't the only one who knows how to make plans." She motioned for someone in the distance to come forward. From out of the crowd came a man Chelsea recognized instantly; it was her father's favorite assistant."

"Mathew, you came!" Chelsea cried, giving him a quick hug.

He straightened himself awkwardly then smiled. "Hello, Chelsea. It is good to see you again."

"Thank you for sending the letter, as well as the package."

"You are most welcome. I was always happy to be of service to your father, and now to you." He pulled out a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. "If you will, I would like you to think of me as your personal assistant. Give me a call whenever you need something." Franklin had been right, Mathew thought to himself; Chelsea seemed much happier than he had ever seen her. Something in her air had changed. "Which reminds me, did you know what he meant by the gift he requested me to send you?"

"I'm afraid I don't," she answered sadly.

"Well, do not worry. I know you'll figure it out eventually." He then turned to May. "Are we all set?"

"Almost," she replied. May looked from Vaughn to Chelsea, "First of all, you'll have to take a different car from the one you came in if you're going to leave without detection."

"I have already moved all of your luggage into the car we will be taking," Mathew interjected.

"Right, Mathew will be taking you to the docks instead."

"But we need to take these clothes back to the studio," Chelsea protested.

May thought about this for a moment. She shook her head, "There won't be time for that if you want to leave without another confrontation with your mother. You can always send them back later if you must, but for now the best move is to make it to the earliest ship you can get on and Chelsea… make sure this one doesn't crash." Chelsea laughed at her friend, but nodded in understanding. May hugged her one more time before she shooed them off. "I'll see you soon," she whispered. "Now go. I'll make sure Clarice doesn't see what car you get into, even if it means talking to her."

With no further ado Chelsea and Vaughn slipped into the crowd following Mathew while May walked in the opposite direction. Mathew walked them in several directions before slipping behind the cemetery's large building. Sure that no one was following them he walked them towards a green minivan. Mathew sat in front while he instructed his passengers to sit in the far back where they would be surrounded by the tinted windows. Chelsea ran to the back, opened the trunk and pulled something out of her suitcase before getting into place. With everyone in the car, Mathew started the car and drove off.

"We'll be going in the opposite direction of the docks first, until I'm certain that no one is following us," he explained. "Once I'm sure, I'll be taking a less well known route."

"Thank you, Mathew, for everything," Chelsea said. He smiled at her through the rear view mirror.

She then turned to Vaughn, "I was afraid it might get bent in your shoulder bag, so I repacked it in my suitcase." Chelsea gave Vaughn what she had searched her luggage for. He eagerly grabbed it from her and smashed it onto his head, pulling it as far forward as it would go.

"Thanks," was his only reply.

Chelsea imagined that he was irritated for a lot of different reasons from today's events, so she remained silent and let him have his peace. She listened to the sounds of the road as Mathew made absolutely certain that no one would follow them to the docks. Her mother was turning downright mafia with this stunt. A groan brought her attention back to Vaughn.

"I'm really going to get it from the crew coming on board like this," he grumbled.

She chuckled a little at his train of thought. "I'm sorry for all of this, I really am," she replied sincerely. "I knew she would try something, but this…."

"It's alright, I know it's not your fault." He looked down at his suit, then back at her. "Chelsea, I hate your mom."

Chelsea laughed, "We'll find you a place to change as soon as we get to the docks." She then looked down at what she was wearing, "Hopefully for me, too."

Again Vaughn gave her a once over before turning away. "It doesn't look that bad."

"Gee, thanks," she replied. "You don't look so bad yourself. The hat really matches the suit," she added, tapping the brim as she spoke. He batted her hand away which made her laugh.

From the rear view mirror Mathew watched discreetly. He was happy and amazed to see Chelsea interact with someone as openly as she was now. He smiled to himself, and inwardly he hoped that Chelsea would give the company up. Though the official last will stated that Franklin's last wish was for Chelsea to be his successor, he also believed that Franklin had always wished for Chelsea's happiness. He knew Chelsea would make the right choice in time; it was Clarice he was worried about. But what could be done? Sadly, he knew this was far from over.

Mathew brought them to the docks, wished them a safe journey, and with one final awkward hug from Chelsea, he was off. The ferry to Sunny Island was leaving almost that moment, so unfortunately Vaughn did not have enough time to change. True to his fears the sailing crew gave him unnecessary compliments on his suit. Vaughn stormed off to the crew's quarters while Chelsea finished bringing their luggage on board. When she struggled a little, still unused to the dress as she was, the crew was quick to assist her.

No sooner was everything on board that the ship set sail for Sunny Island; they would arrive very late that night. Just in time for the Thanksgiving Festival the captain had said.

"Think you'll be getting any cookies this year little miss?" He asked cheerfully.

Chelsea glanced backwards then smiled back at the captain. "Oh, I don't think so." She gave him a friendly wave before making her way to the crew's quarters. She knocked on the door a few times. "Vaughn?" she asked uncertainly.

"In here," answered a muffled voice.

Chelsea opened the door just as he was fastening the belt of his pants; the under shirt of the tuxedo was cast aside on one crewman bed while his black shirt still laid on another. Chelsea smiled, closed her eyes and respectfully turned around to give him privacy. Vaughn looked up at her as he picked up his black shirt.

"It's fine," he said in response to her action.

She turned around again as he shrugged his shirt on, pulling his hands through the sleeves and fastening the buttons. Chelsea went to his shoulder bag and pulled out his vest and bandana, handing each to him in turn.

"Thanks."

"No problem," she smiled. "Sorry the crew gave you a hard time."

"Well, whatever." He took a look around the room to see if there was any other entrance. When he didn't find one he asked, "Do you want to change, too?"

Chelsea nodded, "Actually I do. I feel a little silly wearing this on the ship."

"Okay, wait here and I'll get your bag." He found her bags still on deck and brought the larger of the two back. He handed it to her then stood guard of the door while she changed inside.

Chelsea stretched and sighed happily. "It's good to be back in normal clothes," she said aloud. Vaughn knocked on the door to which she gave him permission to enter. He smirked when he saw her.

"You seem happy," he replied.

"Mm, for many reasons: happy to be out of the city, on my way home, and in comfortable clothes again."

"You look much more like you," he agreed.

She looked at him seriously, "I know I've said it a lot of times, but I want to thank you again for coming. I think I would have gone with her if not for you."

"You almost did," he returned stiffly. He leaned forward bringing his face close to hers. "Don't scare me like that again." He turned to his belongings and began placing things back in his bag. He looked over his shoulder at the suit he had borrowed. Reaching over he picked up the pieces and tossed them towards and unsuspecting Chelsea. "Take care of that. I don't have room for it."

"No, I suppose not," she responded. "I'll put it with the dress and send them back when I get the chance. Of course, I could always store it in my house in case you want to use it again." A flat look from Vaughn answered her question. "Kidding, kidding."

A loud wail brought his attention sharply to her. She was holding a black garment bag up in front of her. "What's wrong?"

She gave him a pained look and pulled the garment out of the bag. It was the silk nightgown.

Clarice watched the receding figure of her rebellious daughter and that infuriating man as someone approached from behind. "I thought you said they weren't that close."

"They weren't," Robert replied darkly. He scowled at Vaughn's retreating figure.

"In other words, that man poses more of a problem than we first calculated?" she asked coolly.

"Perhaps not, there may be something we can do about him. However, it will be more difficult to make her leave the island once she is on it."

"It will not be that difficult. If her life on the island becomes too difficult for her to manage, she will be forced to make a choice. I will give her more company work than she will be able to manage on her own. All that is then required is for her to make the right choice. But how to influence her towards it?" she mused aloud.

Robert reflected quietly on her words. What Clarice said was true, and there was just one more push Chelsea would need. "There is no greater motivation for a change of scene than a broken heart."

"What does that mean?" Clarice asked irritably.

He looked up at her calmly. "There new found relationship may come to our advantage. I have another useful piece of information."

"Well?"

"Another woman on that island whom also has deep feelings for that man," he replied.

"How is that of any use to me?" she demanded.

"Because she is the daughter of Regis, owner of the mining company that supplies the gems we use for accessories and designs."

Her mood changed instantly, "That is interesting."

Robert smiled, "I'm sure we will be able to come to some sort of arrangement with him."

Clarice's smile matched Robert's as his plan dawned on her. "Indeed. After all, making his daughter happy is of great importance to him. Surely we shall all get what we desire."

It was after midnight when the ferry finally reached the island. Chelsea and Vaughn stepped off of the boat tiredly. Chelsea stifled a yawn, repositioned her bags in a more comfortable grip and made her way home. Home, she smiled to herself. She never wanted to leave again. She hardly noticed Vaughn walking beside her. When she did they were already off of the beach and something dawned on her.

"Where will you be staying tonight?"

"Mirabelle said she would set up a cot for me. I told her we would be getting back late."

"I see." Well, she thought, at least this meant she wouldn't have to offer him the extra bed she had. Something told her that would be beyond awkward for him; it was not like staying in a hotel far away from people he knew. They had now reached the crossroads.

"Need me to walk you home?" he asked.

"No no, that's okay. It's late. I don't want to keep you up any later. You're 'escort' as my mother put it, is officially over." She smiled playfully at him, "I'll repay you somehow, when you least expect it. Until then, goodnight Vaughn." She waved one last time before heading up the road again.

He took the right and walked towards Mirabelle's, letting out a great yawn. Tomorrow was going to be a sleepy day. He entered quietly and found the cot Mirabelle had promised him. Only taking off his vest and his hat, he fell asleep almost as soon as he lay down.