20

"I had no idea Jason was married."

"He got divorced about a month or two before you guys first spoke," Spinelli explained as the two of them tried to keep up with Jason, who was walking uncommonly fast. It was morning and time for breakfast, but Johnny had wanted to go out instead of ordering in as always, so Jason decided they would go to one of his favorite little café's for a peaceful, quiet breakfast. Emphasis on quiet.

And that was certainly the word for the man as he practically stormed down the street, bumping into the other rude New Yorkers – which he was as well – and ignoring their yelled obscenities. In fact, Johnny and Spinelli were having a hard time keeping up with him but insisted on conversing anyway.

"Who was she? Did they meet through Trevor and Kate?"

"No, no," Spinelli replied, pulling his beanie a little lower over his forehead. "Elizabeth was a student at Boston University when she first met our Stone Cold. The Little Mister Corinthos Sir had been kidnapped and she, in trying to summon help, had been captured as well. We tracked down the evil-doers and Stone Cold rescued them both."

"A rescue, huh? Pretty big leap between 'rescue' and 'marriage.' In fact, many men, my father included, would say the two words were antonyms."

"Ease up on your cynical vibes, Interloper, you're harshing the Jackal's mellow. And Stone Cold only married the Fair Elizabeth because the Unhinged One, Manny Ruiz, promised to kill her and since she had saved Little Mister Corinthos Sir's life, Mister Corinthos Sir and Stone Cold felt indebted to her and vowed to do whatever they could to protect her."

"Was she nice?" Johnny wanted to know. "Because one of my father's men had to have a marriage of convenience, and it was hell for everyone involved. The woman was a real succubus."

"Fair Elizabeth was exceedingly nice," Spinelli assured him. "She's only a year older than us. Well, actually, only a year older than me, same age as you. She got along very well with the Silent Sentinels and the Goddess."

"That's your Mister Corinthos Sir's wife, right?"

"Occasionally, she likes to be called Brenda," Jason grumbled over his shoulder, wishing those two idiots would find something other than his love life – or pathetic lack thereof – to discuss. But they were boys, and boys never did what others hoped they would. It was the primary flaw of their kind.

"She seemed nice, that's for sure. Looked nice, too. Damn."

Jason snarled and whirled around so fast that Johnny, who was only a pace behind, collided with him. "Are you trying to-"

"Yes." And his impish grin told Jason that sure as hell was the truth.

He grunted and swung around, picking up the pace with Max at his side. The boys followed dutifully, if not just a little insubordinately.

"Yes, the Fair One did look exceedingly fair last night. It was a welcome change."

"What do you mean?"

"When she lived with us, the Fair One lived in jeans and sweatshirts, just like us. Me," Spinelli corrected. His companion, after all, was always dressed to the nines. Occupational hazard, he supposed. It was important for the image. "She always wore her hair in ponytails or those weird floppy knot type things girls sometimes do. The Goddess would give her dress-up pointers, so whenever we had to attend a party or other function the Fair One always looked nice. But at home? Frumpsville."

Jason gritted his teeth and roughly shouldered another man walking in the opposite direction, barely resisting the urge to match the man's obscene suggestion at the affront. "There was nothing wrong with the way Elizabeth looked."

"Stone Cold is very protective of the Fair One," Spinelli whispered loudly to Johnny. "At the last Five Families meeting he attended, he put his fist down Don Sandoval's throat for insulting her. Both Mister Corinthos Sir and Don Salvatore had to haul him away. It was the most fun I've ever had at one of those monkey-suit meetings."

Johnny smirked and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "If your Stone Cold is so protective of the Fair One, why'd they get divorced? Seems like that's the opposite of being protective, at least in our world."

Spinelli looked away now, watching the traffic in the street. "The Jackal has spent much time extensively pondering that."

Jason growled under his breath. Of course he had, the little shit. Spinelli had long since decided that Jason's life was much more interesting than his own so, after all, it made sense.

"But I still can't say why, exactly. All I know is that Stone Cold was angry all the time, and that made the Fair One sad all the time."

Max glared sharply at the boys, but it was too late: Jason had already heard, despite Spinelli's attempt to lower his voice and be discreet.

"That's too bad," Johnny murmured. "For both of them."

"Here it is," Jason half-barked, gesturing to a lesser-known, quiet little restaurant that he always came to for breakfast if he was in the Manhattan area. "Go in, get a table, and try to behave for once. I'll be there in a minute."

The boys shrugged and dutifully filed in while Max lingered with Jason, presumably to discuss something business-related. Jason happened to glance into the swanky café after the boys set foot inside and balked when he saw the other patrons.

Elizabeth, Elton, Kate, and two men in suits were sitting together at a large table, sipping tea while looking through a black file Kate had in her hands, most likely some sort of advertisement proposal.

"Hey-"

"What the-"

Johnny and Spinelli sputtered unintelligibly as Jason reached out and grabbed both of them by the scruffs of their neck.

"What gives?!"

"We're not eating here," Jason growled, shoving them toward Max and quickly ducking out of view of the door. "We, uh, have too much work to do anyway, we don't have time for breakfast. Come on, there's a pretzel cart on the corner."

"But I don't like pretzels."

"No one cares. Just move your asses."

-------------------------------

"You know, I've never been to one of these before."

"You'll love it," Trevor promised, ushering Kate to her seat and waiting for Elizabeth to follow. "There's nothing like a good basketball game to pump you up and energize your spirit."

"Yes, and with the Celtics, there's really nothing like a good basketball game," Kate joked, elbowing her fiancé in the ribs as they took their seats.

Trevor gave her a sour look and rolled his eyes, turning to Elizabeth. "She's a Knicks fan. I can't believe I'm marrying her anyway."

Elizabeth laughed, exchanging mischievous looks with her friend. "I'm sure it's a struggle, Trevor."

He smirked and eyed his watch. "Where is Richard? He really should have been here by now. He's normally very punctual," he added for her benefit. "Oh, look, there he is. I knew he'd be on time."

A tall man dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt – Sonny and Jason's former lawyer before he joined his father's firm and Diane took over – grinned widely as he joined them at their courtside seats. "Hey, Dad, Kate. Elizabeth, it's good to see you. How've you been?"

She shook his hand warmly when he extended it. "I'm just fine, Ric, and you?"

"Infinitely better now that I'm here," he replied affably. "Work was a nightmare and this is just what I needed. So, how badly are the Celts going to destroy the Knicks today, Dad? I'm thinking…a lead in the double-digits."

"I'm thinking I'm going to ram my shoe down your throat."

He elbowed Elizabeth genially. "She gets vicious when the Knicks are involved."

"Frankly, I can't tell the difference."

He laughed and turned his attention to the court, where the game was set to shortly begin. "Nicely played. What about you? You excited?"

"Sure," she replied brightly, her eyes scanning the court and the seats on the opposite side. "I've never been to a basketball game, so I'm looking forward to it."

"Good," Ric smiled. "And let me tell you, as long as you cheer for the Celtics, you'll have a great time."

Kate leaned forward and glared at her friend. "Root for the Knicks or I'll have you doing layout on the natural male enhancement and up-scale vibrator ads in the last two pages of the magazine."

Elizabeth had to smile sheepishly at that as she turned to her unofficial date for the evening. "Well, it looks like my decision's been made for me."

At the start of the second quarter…

"Would you like something to drink, Elizabeth?" Ric returned with four beers and passed them down the row. "Here you go. Dad, Kate?"

"Drop dead, both of you."

Trevor triumphantly accepted his beer and hers. "She's just a little sore. While you were gone, the Celtics made two free throws."

"Booooo," Elizabeth murmured, taking a sip of her drink. "What?" she asked when both Trevor and Ric arched their brows. "Job security."

"Poor girl," Trevor muttered, shaking his head at his fiance. "She can't even choose her own sports team."

"And what makes you think she isn't happy rooting for the Knicks?"

"Who would be happy rooting for the Knicks? All sensible, level-headed, victory-loving people root for the Celtics. It's practically a commandment: Thou shalt not be an idiot and root for anyone but the Boston Celtics."

"Say that on any street corner in this city and you'll be mugged and beaten within an inch of your life," Kate grumbled. "And that's nothing to say of what the other New Yorkers aside from me will do to you."

"Why are you marrying her again, Dad?"

"She gets courtside seats to every basketball game in the city at last minute."

"Ah, right. I remember now."

"I hope you both choke."

"Sure, sure, Katie, darling."

Elizabeth had to laugh at the family banter, such a far cry from Webber family banter because there weren't any yelled obscenities or tears or recounts of acts of infidelity. "Are you guys this bad about every sport, or just basketball?"

"Oh, you should see us when the Superbowl comes around," Ric informed her seriously. "You think this is bad? We annihilate each other over football – the slaughter there makes our basketball-related disagreements look like tickle fights."

"It's true," Trevor affirmed. "Katie just will not see reason. Patriots, baby, Patriots."

"Giants, Giants, Giants."

"But the Patriots belong to all of New England!"

"And the Giants belong to the city of New York, and that's all that matters to this Bensonhurst girl."

"There's just no getting through to her," Trevor sighed sadly. "Oh, here we go. Richard, watch number twelve – watch him on Knicks number twenty-one. This is it, boy."

Elizabeth stared out at the court, trying to find the players Trevor referenced but she couldn't make much sense of the melee on the court. And just when she thought she saw the number 12 amidst the blurs of different jerseys, her eyes trailed across to the courtside seats opposite theirs and she found herself staring directly at…

Oh, dear God, no. Not here. Not again.

Her husband – ex-husband, ex-husband – was sitting on the other side of the court with an almost empty bottle of beer in his hands. She could just hear him telling the vendor that he wanted "a beer, bottle not glass," in that gruff voice of his that always got things done.

But what was Jason doing here?! From what she knew of him, he didn't care that much about sports. She'd hear him talking about the game with Spinelli and Max the morning after, but he rarely had time to sit down and actually watch all of it. And she had certainly never pegged him as the type that would actually attend a live game.

A young man on his right with dark hair and a dark, natural tan elbowed him and gestured to one of the coaches a few yards away. Jason followed his gaze and nodded solemnly, actually cracking a grin when his companion said something else presumably relating to that coach.

That young man – she didn't recognize him as any of the guards, so he had to be a business associate – was probably the one that dragged him to the game tonight. He was probably around her age, and seemed to be really into whatever indiscernible event was transpiring on the court. And as luck would have it, they were seated almost directly opposite them, too. If Jason removed his eyes from the court and looked over at the other side of the stadium, he wouldn't have to look very long to spot them.

"Uh, Ric?"

His eyes were glued to the court and his hands were clenched into fists. "…Yeah?"

"Can I borrow your hat?"

That got his attention. "My hat? My Celtics hat?"

"Yes," she replied hurriedly, holding out her hand. "Can I wear it, please?"

He didn't quite know what to make of that but, ever the gentleman, he took it off, brushed the bill, and handed it to her. "Of course. Sure, it's yours."

"Thank you," Elizabeth sighed with relief. She quickly pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and pulled the cap on, adjusting the brim so it sat low over her face and shielded her eyes.

"You see that, Dad?" Ric grinned, jerking his thumb at Elizabeth. "We converted another one."

Kate let out a very un-ladylike curse when the Celtics took a twelve-point lead. "Oh, the whole world's against me."

Elizabeth knew the feeling.

-------------------------------

Candy.

Candy always made things better.

And New York City's best kept little secret – until Oprah talked about it on her show, of course – was Dylan's Candy Bar where Elizabeth had just spent an inordinate amount of her bi-weekly salary on chocolate.

Really, there was nothing better than chocolate to help one get through life's cruel little jokes, whether those cruel little jokes were one's slutty sister sleeping with every single one of one's high school boyfriends before one even had a chance to do that oneself (the memory alone made her want to pull Sarah's hair out by the roots) or running into one's ex-husband at every single flipping turn.

So far, she had seen Jason (1) at Mike Bloomberg's little mixer when she had all but run screaming from the room in terror; (2) at the Knicks-Celtics game seated courtside; (2) at Sam & Ella's café during lunch with Elton when she had barely managed to duck out herself and drag a fawning Elton with her before Jason noticed; (3) at the movie theatre in Brooklyn where Kate wanted to go see old black and white Cary Grant afternoons on the day they both played hooky together, although to be fair, Jason wasn't actually in the theatre but standing on the street corner a block away; (4) at a late-night pizzeria that made her absolute favorite chocolate-dipped cannolis to go; and (5) at Bloomingdale's when she had gone to buy a pretty new white coat to wear over her fancy, fluffy dresses, all Sex & the City like.

Of course, she had no idea that during that same amount of time, Jason had seen her at (1) Mike Bloomberg's little mixer; (2) courtside at the Knicks-Celtics game; (3) at the Ferragamo show that Johnny had insisted on dragging him to because he felt they both needed new designer suits; (4) in the lobby at Johnny's new apartment building when she came to pick up a friend for lunch; and (5) heading for the same hot dog cart he was heading to – the only good hot dog cart in the city – before he jumped into the nearest store to avoid crossing paths.

No, Elizabeth knew none of that. As far as she was concerned, she had already had an inordinate amount of almost-run-ins with her ex-husband and even one was one too many. She wanted to forget that she ever saw him at the mayor's party, looking devastatingly calm and put together in his handsome suit, so composed and placid even when her insides were all swirling about and she felt like she was going to throw up. But that was just who Jason was: he was Mr. Unflappable, never fazed by anything or anyone, much less her. She was willing to bet now that he realized how lucky he was to have her out of his life so that he could go about his business as if they'd never met, and that was good. It was just sad that their unfortunate run-in might have jeopardized the progress they had both made.

It certainly threatened to jeopardize her progress. She thought about him constantly now, always looking over her shoulder when she caught a flash of a tall man dressed in black, when she heard footsteps behind her, when she caught a man on his cell phone in the corner of a large room. Especially when she visited the predominantly Italian areas of the city – she could always picture him sitting in one of those burgundy leather booths in the corner of the restaurant, shrouded in cigar smoke, laying out the terms of his next deal or alliance.

Good God, she was watching too many DeNiro-Pacino movies with Kate again.

So now, because she was once again a nervous wreck thanks to her husband, Elizabeth decided that she would take all of her yummy chocolate, go home to her cozy little loft, put on her favorite mixed CD, snuggle on the couch with a warm blanket and a steaming cup of Columbian Roast, and she was going to eat all of it.

It would be gross and sublime and awful and indulgent and she'd hate herself the next morning, but she would do it anyway.

She had her chocolate covered peanuts, vanilla clodhoppers, chocolate covered peanut butter Oreos, chocolate covered marshmallows, truffles filled with just about every confectionary substance imaginable, bite-sized s'mores, a tin of hazelnut hot chocolate mix, and enough candy bars to feed an army of small, hyperactive children.

Life was going to be good – as soon as she got this chocolate home.

Fortunately, Dylan's wasn't too far from her apartment, which was good because Elizabeth didn't own a car. She had more than enough money to buy one, that was true, but it felt like no one really drove a car in New York City except the tourists. Her usual destinations were all within walking distance, and at most she'd take a cab. Parking was a nightmare, anyway, so she was glad she didn't have to deal with that. And she was only two blocks from her apartment, so it all worked out.

Everything was going to be fine.

That was the last thought she had before she turned the corner and collided with something tall, hard, and very warm.

Everything was not going to be fine.

Especially since that tall, hard, very warm something was in fact her ex-husband, who just happened to be everywhere. Like a freaking Shape Shifter or something.

He caught her easily when she stumbled, her balance further obstructed by the two giant bags of candy she held, and Elizabeth squeaked when she felt his hands on her body. The noise of distress startled Jason, who quickly moved his hands so that he held the bags she grappled with instead of her.

Another pair of hands darted out and grabbed her arm, steadying her, as another pair reached for her other elbow. It felt like being groped by an octopus. Or rather, how she imagined being groped by an octopus would feel.

"Are you alright?" The same young man from the basketball game looked down at her, the concern clear in his soft, dark eyes, and Elizabeth quickly realized that the other hands belonged to Spinelli.

"Fair One, watch it – you okay?"

She felt the color bloom in her cheeks as she extracted herself from them. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, sorry. Sorry about that. I should have watched where I was going."

"It's not your fault," the unknown young man replied, giving her arm a little pat before he withdrew his hand. "I'm, uh, Johnny Zacchara, by the way. I, uh, already know who you are. And I believe you already know these two."

His attempt at a joke fell flat as Elizabeth's worried eyes darted up to those of her ex-husband's. In the background, Spinelli continued to chatter on.

"What a twist of fate, finding you, Fair One, here of all people! We were just going to dinner with a couple of Stone Cold's coffee business friends at the Excelsior and here you are! So how-"

"Spinelli," Jason cut in without removing his gaze from hers. He shifted his grip on the two bags of candy he now held. "Johnny. Give us a minute."

The boys looked at each other and then at Elizabeth and inched away from the couple. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"We'll just be over there, under the awning," Spinelli added for Elizabeth's benefit. A muscle in Jason's jaw ticked when he realized the boy was most likely remembering the last time he had seen the two of them standing in the same room, when Elizabeth hadn't wanted to be left alone with him and when he'd taunted her about being pregnant.

His gaze remained trained directly on her, his eyes cool and calm and giving nothing away. She knew better than to be surprised, and she knew better than to hope for anything else, even the slightest show of emotion. After all, this was the first time since he'd shoved the divorce papers in her hand that they were standing face to face for more than twenty seconds before she screamed like a girl and ran away in fright.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment – too long a moment – painfully aware of everything else going on around them, and of Johnny and Spinelli watching their every move from the safety of the awning. She had vowed not to speak first, and he had done the same.

So they stood and stared.

Finally, Elizabeth broke. She knew she would, and she didn't disappoint herself. Of course, in not disappointing herself, she disappointed herself, but that was nothing new.

"Hi."

He blinked, but that was the only registered movement. "Hey."

Again, they stood and stared. This time, Elizabeth vowed that she wouldn't say anything. After all, he was the one that wanted a moment alone with her, so he could just decide what they should talk about, the sterling conversationalist.

"It's been a while."

So he went with stating the obvious. Elizabeth nodded her head just slightly. "Yeah, it has."

His eyes, previously blank and cold, flashed with just a hint of accusation. "We haven't heard anything from you in a long time."

She nodded again, knowing just what he was getting at, but not wanting to hand the words to him. "Yeah."

That flash of accusation glittered again in his expressive eyes. "Michael misses you."

Her eyes softened at the mention of the little boy, but Elizabeth knew she couldn't give in to his intimidation tactics. The second anyone showed any regret or acquiescence to the feared Jason Morgan, that was the second that person lost. And Elizabeth was damn sick and tired to losing to this man.

"It's for the best this way."

His lips tightened at the corners. "Is it?"

She nodded again, refusing to be cowed. "Yes."

Jason could be seen gritting his teeth, and Elizabeth found herself wondering if he was having a hard time dealing with this Elizabeth, the one that refused to be intimidated or silenced, the one that wouldn't slink away and wouldn't give him any ammunition for his weapon of choice. He had shown her during their marriage that he could be a cold, hard, unreadable man; he would learn now that she could as well.

"He used to ask about you all the time," Jason ground out, his grip tightening on those two ridiculous bags of candy. "Every single day, and then every single night before going to sleep. He would ask why you didn't call, and why he couldn't come see you like Sonny and Brenda promised. He asked me all the time to call you, to send you a letter, to have Spinelli find you and then drive down to see you. All the time."

Her softened expression gave away little else other than understanding during his rant, and Elizabeth had never been prouder of herself for being so calm and level-headed in the face of the one man that could turn her whole world upside-down.

"And does he still?"

Her gentle question seemed to startle him, and Jason balked at her. "What?"

Elizabeth regarded him kindly and clasped her hands in front of her. "Does Michael still ask about me?"

His brows pulled together as he sputtered out an answer. "Well, no, not so much anymore, but sometimes, still…"

"When was the last time he asked about me?"

"…Uh…" Jason actually had to stop to think about it, which was a good sign to her. "…Last month."

"And when was the last time he mentioned being kidnapped by Manny?"

"…A while before that."

She continued to meet his gaze evenly. "And does he still have nightmares?"

He gaped down at her. "Nightmares?"

"Ask Sonny and Brenda," Elizabeth told him gently. "But my guess is that they're nowhere near as frequent or as bad as they were before I left. How's he doing in school?"

Her questions weren't making sense to him, but Jason replied anyway. "He's, uh, doing good. Better. His attendance is more regular, I guess…"

"And does he have friends?"

"Uh…there's this one kid who always has a runny nose that comes over to the penthouse sometimes…Elizabeth, I-"

"And that's why it's better this way," she cut him off, her voice kind but firm. "Don't you see, Jason? It's better for him not to have contact with me, to forget that I was ever a part of his life."

Her ex-husband stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "He doesn't want to forget."

"It's better for him if he does," she insisted without stooping to arguing about it. "A few years will pass, and he will forget about me. And he should."

Jason's nostrils flared, a sure sign that he was having trouble keeping his temper in check. "He loves you."

"And now he loved me," she responded, emphasizing the past tense. "In a few years, I'll be a distant memory and he'll be well on his way to living the rest of his life as if I never came into his."

"That's not what he wants!"

"Jason." If he hadn't been gripping onto those bags like lifelines, she would have reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Michael doesn't need me anymore."

His bewildered expression made it clear that he didn't agree in the least. "What are you talking about? You're the one that was there for him when – when Manny kidnapped him. He would always talk about how you held him and talked to him and sang him to sleep. He needs you – you were the only good part of that for him. It was the most traumatic experience in his life, and he needs you to keep him from sinking in that."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. I might have been there for him during all of that, but if he's going to really get past that and move on, then I'm the last thing he needs."

"You don't-"

"And you need to just stop and listen to me for once." She knew she was glaring, but couldn't quite bring herself to care. "Since I've left, you told me that Michael's not mentioning me as much, not mentioning the kidnapping as much, probably not having nightmares about it anymore, and that he's doing good in school and spending time with his friends.

"All of that is good, Jason. He's moving on. He's forgetting the kidnapping. That's exactly what he should be doing. If I was still there, yeah, he'd remember me holding him and talking to him while being kidnapped, but he'd also remember the kidnapping itself and how helpless and scared he felt, how he thought he was never going to see his mom or dad again. I would be a constant, living reminder of the scariest time in his life, and I would hurt him more than I would help him."

She shook her head with a sad smile. "Don't you see? He's moving on. That's exactly what he should be doing. And if in doing that he needs to forget that I was such a big part of his life at one point, then that's what needs to be done."

"What about you?" Jason got out, his voice sounding thick and raspy even to his own ears.

"What about me?"

He swallowed, wondering in the back of his mind if constantly seeing him made Elizabeth remember the most miserable, hopeless time of her own life. "Does seeing Michael or thinking about him make you remember being kidnapped?"

He didn't need to say 'twice.' Elizabeth was already shaking her head. "Seeing that little boy or thinking about him makes me remember…a very special little boy with a lot of love to give, and it makes me hope that he'll be just as loving and generous when he's a man as he was when he was five."

She took a step back and, glancing at Spinelli and Johnny, neatly sidestepped him. The conversation had turned cold and she was once again eager to leave. "It was…I'm…I'm glad you're doing well. I should go now."

Jason watched dumbly as she walked away, and it was only when she was several yards away and starting to half-jog that he remembered she left her precious cargo behind. "Wait! Elizabeth! You forgot your-"

"Keep it," they heard her yell over her shoulder.

"But I don't know what it is!"

"Chocolate!"

She was farther away now, almost down the corner, and people were starting to stare. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"For God's sake, eat it!"

Spinelli and Johnny inched closer as Jason stared after his wife, dumbfounded and still holding two bulging sacks of candy. Johnny was the first to speak.

"Damn, she really-"

"I know, Johnny. Just shut up."

--------------------------------

Back in Port Charles…

"Uncle Jason! You're home!" Little Michael Corinthos was all grins as he tumbled down the stairs and ran straight for his uncle. "We missed you! Did you bring Johnny? When can I meet him? He sounds real cool on the phone."

"Johnny's back in Manhattan, pal," Jason replied, setting two large paper bags on the floor so that he could pick up his nephew. "But he says hi, and he sent a present for you. It's a Yankees hat – it's in that bag right there."

"Well, that was very sweet of him," Brenda said, coming out of the kitchen. She smiled when she saw her old friend and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. "How was the weather driving up?"

"Bad, not terrible."

"Wow…" Michael already had his baseball cap on and was now staring open-mouthed at the contents of the two sacks. "Uncle Jason, what is all this?"

Brenda's eyes widened when she saw all the chocolate, and her first thought was to give thanks that her husband wasn't home so that she and Michael would have adequate time to hide the loot.

"Chocolate," Jason replied unnecessarily, watching the kid rip through the bag. "It's a present for you."

He looked up in delight. "Really? From who?"

Ignoring Brenda's inquisitive looks, Jason stuffed his hands in his pocket and let the corner of his mouth quirk up. "From your Aunt Elizabeth."

"From Lizabeth? Really?" Pure joy glimmered in the boy's obsidian eyes. "Wow! You saw her? She gave you this for me? What did she say?"

"She said that she's really glad that you're doing good," Jason replied truthfully. "And that she loves you."

Michael smirked to himself, pleased, and looked down at the candy. "I knew she didn't forget about me."