The airport nearest to Ozarkville, Missouri, turned out to only have three flights a day, the last of which Daniel wasn't going to be able to make. The next nearest airport was in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Daniel had never been to Tulsa, nor Oklahoma, and he had never wished to remedy that lack. He had no problem with the fact that they existed, but they were less places to him than concepts.

Still, he booked the tickets, made the world's fastest connection at O'Hare and arrived around 11 pm at the smallest airport he'd ever seen outside the Caribbean. It wasn't too small to have a rental car place, but by that hour the only vehicle left to him was a banana-yellow sub-compact. Daniel drove for two hours along a highway that seemed to be trafficked with no other cars, only eighteen-wheelers going so fast that their tailwinds shook his tiny car every time they blew past him. When he was within range of the town, he saw a small hotel and grabbed a room for the night. He'd find the Pulaskis in the morning.

As he fell, exhausted, into bed, he remembered his earlier hopes for his Friday night – which had also involved falling into bed, but preferably beside (on top of?) Betty. The thought of her, so far away from him when he'd hoped they'd be so close, made his heart constrict. He hoped Betty would forgive him for this. That the drama wouldn't scare her off. That he'd come back to her with some kind of truth.

Then he closed his eyes tightly to blot out the pain, and collapsed into slumber too deep for dreams.

The next morning, he double-checked the address he'd gotten from the Meade Publications database, discovered to his surprise that GPS had mapped Ozarkville, and set out on his way to find "Rural Road 287," whatever that might be. There seemed to be an awful lot of sky around here; it gave him the opposite of claustrophobia, whatever that might be. Daniel felt better with some tall buildings around him.

He also felt better with his cell phone on hand, but he'd tucked it deep into his bag and shut it off. If the DNA tests came in today instead of Monday, the email would come to him just as it would to Mom and Alexis. If he started checking for it now, the dread would overwhelm his every waking moment. So he'd shut it down, resolving to go without messages, calls or emails until the end of the day. By then, maybe he'd already have his truth.

Finally he drove up to a small white house with dark-green shutters that looked … pleasant. Not impoverished or tacky, the way his New Yorker mind had pictured anything on Rural Road 287. Not some Southern Gothic mansion, either. Just like any other average house that happened to have a tractor parked nearby. On the porch, a fat, elderly beagle yelped once as his car drove up, then put its head back down. Daniel got out of his car and sucked in a sharp breath at the stifling summer heat.

"Moogs, you hush," said a middle-aged woman as she stepped onto the porch. She slipped on a pair of reading glasses to peer at the car. "Can I help you, there?"

"Hi," Daniel said. He really, really should have planned this more in-depth; Betty might have had a point about what a rotten idea this was. The first thing that came to mind was, "I'm here from Meade Publications. In New York?"

"Oh! My goodness. Is this because Bob canceled his subscription to THE CUP? We swear, it's nothing personal." Then she leaned toward the door. "Bob! Get out here. It's the magazine people. I told you we had to give them 30 days' notice."

"No, no, nothing like that!" Daniel thought fast. "You subscribe to HOT FLASH, right? You are Cindy Pulaski?"

"Yes – "

"Well, we're doing a – feature, where we drop in on several HOT FLASH readers chosen from around the country and report on the lives of, ah, real women who enjoy the magazine." That actually sounded pretty credible. More to the point, it wasn't a bad feature idea. Maybe he could pitch it to … Mom …

The word Mom rang louder in his thoughts as Daniel stepped closer to see Cindy Pulaski for the first time. Before, the porch had shadowed her face somewhat; now, he could tell that she actually bore a strong resemblance to his mother. Uncanny, really: If Mom had let her hair go gray and wore T-shirts with denim culottes, she'd look just like this.

Then Bob Pulaski emerged, in jeans, short-sleeved button-up shirt and a John Deere hat. He looked even more like Bradford Meade than Cindy had resembled Claire. "I'm sick of that Tiger Woods," Bob said, obviously still worrying about his canceled subscription. "And I spend more of my free time fishing these days."

"It's not about that," Cindy said, patting his arm. "They've come to do a story about me. Because I read HOT FLASH. Can you imagine?"

They looked so unbelievably like his parents. At first Daniel felt a flush of triumph: See, it makes sense now! Of course Chad looks like Alex did! If the parents are a lot alike, the kids would be too.

Then he thought, It would also explain how a nurse mistook one set of parents in the hospital for another.

"Only if you're comfortable with the idea, of course," Daniel said. "We're choosing people at random, but you can still opt out. I thought I'd – hang out with you for a day, just see what your world is like, get to know more about Cindy Pulaski. And you too, Bob."

"Why would I be in HOT FLASH?" Bob asked, not unkindly.

"We cover our readers' love lives, too," Daniel improvised.

Cindy chuckled. "Remember that how-to article from last March? I'd think you'd be grateful to HOT FLASH around now."

This made Bob grin, but sheepishly. "Oh, my. Cindy. We hardly met this man, Mr. – "

"Call me Daniel." Wow, they'd never seen TMZ or the POST or any of the other publications that made him famous in his man-whore days. And they didn't look like they spent a lot of time in front of Fashion TV. Daniel rarely got a chance to make his own first impression these days; he found he liked it.

"Well, Daniel, you know what? I think it would be fun to be in a magazine." Cindy put her hands on her hips. "And thank God, I cleaned house yesterday. We don't have much on our slate, do we, Bob?"

"We need to make a run to the Wal-Mart, but I suppose that could wait 'til tomorrow." Bob's large, friendly hand clapped Daniel on the shoulder. "Come on in."

Cindy gasped. "Oh, goodness. Are we taking pictures? I want to have my hair done before any pictures."

"No pictures," Daniel promised. "Not today, anyway. Though at least you guys would match." It was a small joke – Cindy's lilac T-shirt picked up the purplish plaid pattern on Bob's shirt – but he wanted to put them at ease, make them laugh. He found that he liked the Pulaskis. If this was all a false alarm, HOT FLASH really could do the story, just like he'd suggested. Why not?

"We'd match most days. Both of us love purple. Whole family does. Must be genetic." Bob pointed at Daniel. "Looks like you do too!"

Daniel gazed down at his own purple T-shirt – the one that was the same shade as most of his favorite boxer shorts, sheets and ties – and swallowed hard.

oooooo

"So Bobby and I haven't actually talked about kids yet," Hilda said. "Kinda weird, huh?"

Betty just nodded as Hilda talked, nonstop. Her knife scraped strawberry jam across a toasted English muffin as she attempted to focus on what her sister was saying. She'd been trying to focus ever since last night, when she'd come home and almost instantly been besieged with chit-chat and "Xanadu." Justin and Austin had taken part in the movie marathon, insisting the camp value was too great to ignore, so the deeper sister conversations had been forced to wait until this morning.

But every passing second just worsened Betty's distraction and concern. Daniel had, by now, dragged himself halfway across the country in search of answers. If he didn't get them, the suspense was going to boil over; she thought he might really be at a breaking point. And if he did get answers – and those answers weren't what he wanted to hear –

Don't be stupid! Of course Chaniel's not telling the truth. Why are you even worrying about this?

Yet she had to worry. As long as Daniel was afraid, she remained afraid for him.

"Probably it's because of the miscarriage. Makes us each feel weird about bringing it up." Hilda's head drooped a little, as the old disappointment shadowed her cheer. Betty put one hand on her shoulder, but Hilda went on, again blithe, "Still, we gotta talk about it. I mean, I'm about to turn 37. Not getting any younger, you know? If Bobby wants a kid or two of his own, we need to get on the stick. No pun intended."

"Do you want another?" Betty tried again to think only of her sister, who she really had missed. "You never really talked about it, after Justin."

"Seventeen hours of labor will do that to a girl," Hilda sighed. "But honestly, I never thought about another because I was never in a position to think about it. It was all I could do to keep me and Justin fed, and that was with us living in this house. Now, though – seems a lot more doable."

Unable to resist a smile as she poured herself more orange juice, Betty concluded, "You do want another baby."

"Maybe?" More serious than before, Hilda said, "I guess what it comes down to in life is being honest about what you want. Honest with yourself, first of all. I don't want to ask Bobby about a baby because I think baby clothes are cute – though they are. Or because I think people expect us to have one. It has to be for the right reasons, you know? I have to be honest with myself about this. Really ask myself what matters most. And then, no matter what I decide … hold true to that no matter what."

Betty asked herself what mattered most, and was honest with herself about what she wanted. In that moment, what she had to do became crystal clear.

She looked across the table at her sister and said, "I have to go to Missouri."

"Huh?"

"Today. As soon as possible." Betty got up from the table and hurried into the living room, where her laptop was leaned against the wall, recharging.

As she got it started up again, Hilda stomped into the room behind her, bathrobe trailing on the floor behind her. "What do you mean, today? And why Missouri?"

"Daniel's in trouble," Betty said. "The whole thing with Chaniel – "

Hilda wrinkled her nose. "Daniel bought a dog?"

"What? No." God, they really had done a rotten job of telling each other about their lives lately, hadn't they? Betty quickly explained who Chaniel was and the mind game he was playing on Daniel as she surfed to Expedia and discovered that three flights a day would get her to the Ozarkville area – the first of which she could still make, if she packed and caught a gypsy cab to LaGuardia in a hurry.

Just as Betty scooted the mouse over to "purchase tickets," Hilda said, "Okay, yeah, that sucks, but, Betty – you and me – this weekend was supposed to be about family. You know? Family comes first."

"I know. It does." Betty clicked. She'd be eating ramen noodles the rest of the month, but the tickets were hers. "And Daniel is family. You know that as well as I do."

After a long moment, Hilda nodded. "This is a pretty far cry from him making you go into Manhattan to pick out his shirts for him. No, you're right. It's important. Go. I just – I miss my baby sister."

"I miss my big sister." Betty clutched Hilda to her in a fierce embrace, and for a moment – with Hilda in her fuzzy robe and Betty in her striped pajamas – they might have been kids again, Hilda the too-cool high schooler and Betty only a child, able to admit they adored each other only when nobody else was around to see. "Soon. I promise. We're going to talk about everything in the world."

"Okay, okay." Already over the sentimentality, Hilda gave Betty a push toward the stairs. "Get packing, would you? Before Daniel gets into even more trouble. Honestly, I'm not sure whether that boy can breathe anything but New York air."

oooooo

"You've never heard of Frisbee golf?" Alexis grinned as she and DJ walked near the boat pond in Central Park. The day was hot but not searing … just a hint of July's approach in the air. The sky was blue, she was with her son, and within a few hours, maybe, she'd be able to put the whole Chaniel mess behind her. Right now, it was good to concentrate only on DJ. "What kinds of things do they teach you in school?"

"Nothing with Frisbees or golf." DJ laughed at the thought. "It sounds fun, though. How do you play?"

Alexis explained the rules, though she had to leave out all the parts about drinking beer, which were of course half the point of Frisbee golf. Still, if it was something she and DJ could do together, she'd enjoy it. "What do you say? Want to learn?"

"Yeah, sure. Not today – "

"We're kinda short on Frisbees, huh? But we could get one. I think FAO Schwartz is down around the bottom of the park." She dimly remembered childhood visits there, turning happily toward the beautiful dolls before her father pushed her back into the model planes department.

Nodding, DJ said, "But we should get Daniel to play with us, too. I bet he knows how to play Frisbee golf."

"… he does." It was one of the few sports where they were evenly matched, or at least appeared to be after they'd split a six-pack.

"Where is Daniel this weekend?"

"In Missouri." Alexis thought this errand was kind of ridiculous, and it had upset their mother. If it kept Daniel busy, though, it wasn't totally worthwhile. No, his sudden departure wasn't the reason she suddenly felt her sunny mood clouding over. Careful to keep her voice neutral, she said, "You were excited to come back to New York and see Daniel, huh?"

"Yeah, of course!" DJ was distracted for a moment by some nearby skateboarders, but the grin on his face was recognizably for his uncle. "Weren't you?"

"Sure." It was true, wasn't it? Alexis wanted it to be true. But she couldn't ignore the ugly jealousy gnawing at her now. Lightly, she added, "I guess he's your favorite."

DJ stopped, gazed up at her and then did something he'd never done before: He took her hand. Startling for any near-teenage boy in public, but not as startling as the way it made her heart melt.

He said only, "I can love both of you, right?"

Alexis couldn't speak. It was the first time she'd heard that word out of DJ's mouth, in English or French. She just nodded.

"I miss Daniel, is all. It had been so long. And I know you do too. All of us are nicer to each other when Daniel's around."

Although Alexis had never put it to herself that way, she had to admit DJ had a point. Not that they were always great to each other even with Daniel nearby – but it was always worse without him. Daniel had a sweetness to him nobody else in the family shared; when she was younger, not yet a parent, Alexis had sometimes seen that as weakness. But they weren't the same thing, not at all.

"Yeah," she said. "Daniel's the glue that keeps the family together."

"Glue?"

"It's just a saying we have in English."

DJ's eyes kept flicking over to the skateboarders. "Can I watch for a few minutes? Please?"

"Have at it." She watched him lope off toward the kids his own age, eager and confident, happier than she ever remembered being when she was young. Her own mood was lifting to match his. DJ said he loved me!

Then she heard, "Out for a run?"

Alexis turned to see Chaniel standing there in running shorts and a college T-shirt not unlike what she would have worn a few years ago. Of course, his college T-shirt said UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS instead of anyplace in the Ivy League, but otherwise it was like coming face to face with her younger self.

"Sure," she said. Better that than admitting she was here with DJ: She didn't want this goon coming anywhere near her son. Besides, she'd dressed in yoga pants, camisole and tennis shoes; she could pull off the lie. "Just like you, I guess."

"Like half the city of New York," he replied, and it was true; the park was packed. It never ceased to surprise Alexis, how you could run into people on the street in a city of eight million, but you could and you did – and on a warm, bright day like this, there were probably at least 20 or 30 acquaintances of hers somewhere in Central Park.

Why did she have to run into this one?

"Haven't warmed up yet," Chaniel said. "Want to join me? Just for a lap."

Alexis' eyes met his, and she recognized the challenge for what it was. She'd said exactly this to Daniel several times; inevitably, it was the prelude to a race.

Except Chaniel didn't yet know who he was dealing with.

"Sure," she said. DJ had his cell phone on him, and besides, he wouldn't budge for another half hour at least, not while skateboarding tricks were going down. "Why not?"

She and Chaniel fell into step, a slow pace at first – then a proper run. Steady, sure, but fast.

He has good form, Alexis thought. But mine's better.

"Must be tougher now," Chaniel called. "Since you need a sports bra."

"Look at it this way," she shot back. "I don't need a jockstrap."

He laughed, and Alexis couldn't tell if he was amused by her joke or just happy to realize he could bait her so easily.

Why am I doing this? Why are any of us letting him set the pace and the course? Well, I'll teach him a lesson soon enough.

As they rounded the turn that would bring them back toward the boat pond, Alexis chose her moment, took a deep breath, and poured it on. Her feet went faster, then faster; her arms pumped as she gave it every bit of speed she had – and she had a lot. This was where she always defeated her college rivals … where she always left Daniel in the dust …

And it was where Chaniel passed her.

Impossible. Yet it was happening. She was giving it everything she had, all her considerable strength, and yet Chaniel was quicker. He was pushing himself just as hard as she was, if not harder; instead of grimacing in pain, he was grinning. He loved beating her, she realized. He loved the kill – even more than she did.

He rushed past the place where they'd started – the tacitly acknowledged finish line – and laughed out loud as they both loped to a halt. While Alexis leaned over, hands on her knees, to gulp in a breath, he said, "Didn't know I still had it in me!"

"Thought I still – had it – in me." She wiped her sweaty brow, hoping the gesture would hide some of her chagrin.

Chaniel shrugged. "Guess it runs in the family." He gave her a wink before turning to go.

Oh, God, Alexis thought. What if it does run in the family?

oooooo

Lime green weekender bag over one shoulder, Betty was prepared to hail a cab out to the Pulaski home from the airport. There were only two problems: She didn't have their address, and apparently not every single town in the world had taxis.

Both problems were easily taken care of once she'd taken an obliging shuttle bus to the center of town, where she found a Waffle House. They had a phone directory thinner than some catalogs Betty regularly received, and the Pulaskis kept their number listed. Then her waitress, Sheryl, turned out to be super-friendly. The two of them started talking about Sheryl's carrot earrings, and by the end of her lunch-and-research session, when Betty asked where Rural Road 287 was, Sheryl offered her a ride out that way without even asking why Betty needed to go there.

At any rate, within two hours of her arrival in town, Betty got dropped off in front of a nice little white house with good wishes and the email address of the lady who made the cute carrot earrings.

It was the first time during her whole headlong rush to Missouri that Betty felt any doubt. Now she had to walk across the yard and knock on that door. She knew she'd find Daniel there; the resolve in his voice during their last phone call was enough to tell her that he wouldn't have turned back.

But would he even want her there? This was delicate. Sensitive. If he'd seen by now that there was no way Chaniel was telling the truth, Daniel probably felt embarrassed by his dramatic actions. Betty didn't blame him for a moment – but he might blame himself. Or what if the Pulaskis had figured out why he was there and were freaking? They didn't know her from anybody. Worse: What if they were in on their son's scam? They could be messing with Daniel's head. Or now they knew the game was up, and they were taking him hostage!

Betty stared at the house, which now seemed to loom before her as ominous as the Bates Motel. She forced herself to keep going, step by step, as she fished in her weekender for her phone. If the Pulaskis were crazed kidnappers, she'd just call police. Oh, God, did this place even get cell phone reception?

Then the front door swung open, making her jump – but it was Daniel, more at ease than she'd seen him in weeks. "I can get it – won't take a minute!" he called behind him as he loped down the front steps. As he turned and saw her, though, he froze in place, clearly so shocked he hardly believed his eyes.

"Hi," Betty said in a small voice. "I hope it's okay that I – I mean, I don't want to intrude if – "

"Oh, my God. You're really here." Daniel swept her up in his arms and twirled her around in a circle. His embrace almost took the breath out of her, and she could hear his voice crack. "You came all the way here!"

Laughing, dizzy, Betty hung on until her feet finally touched earth again. "I wanted to be with you. Right or wrong, no matter what – Daniel, I'm with you."

For a moment he could say nothing else, but his awestruck smile told her the whole story.

At the door of the house, a graying beagle bayed at her once, then wagged its tale. A man emerged. "Simmer down, Moogs. Well, who have we here?"

Daniel straightened; they'd just broken from their embrace, and she could see he was still using some kind of cover story. "This is Betty Suarez. She is a journalist, ah, friend of mine from New York, and I thought she might work with me on the story."

The story? Daniel must have gone with the magazine as a cover … which was actually pretty good thinking. Betty resolved to play along.

"We've got even more reporters coming in from Manhattan?" The man looked eerily like Bradford Meade, Betty thought; give him a power suit and take away 15 pounds, and they could be doubles. However, she never remembered Mr. Meade appearing … uncertain, which Mr. Pulaski did now. "This is a whole lot of publicity for me and Cindy all of a sudden."

"I'm very nonthreatening!" Betty ventured, with her friendliest smile.

Mr. Pulaski clearly didn't agree, but he just as clearly wanted to seem calm and confident, so he put on a brave smile and gave them the thumbs-up. Betty gasped, and Daniel turned to her and mouthed, You see?

Then he looked back at Mr. Pulaski and said, sheepishly, "Uh, I should probably also mention that Betty's my girlfriend. We missed each other. Which has a lot to do with why she's here than any publicity blitz."

"Ohhh, I see." Mr. Pulaski's smile became much more genuine. "Cindy, we've got young love out in the front yard."

"Not the dogs again," called a woman's voice. "Use the hose!"

Daniel started laughing, and Betty couldn't resist a grin. "Please, no hose."

Mr. Pulaski said, "Well, as long as I'm teaching one of you to fish, I might as well teach two."

Betty blinked. "Daniel, you're – learning how to fish?"

"We made a deal," Daniel said. "I show him my iPad; he teaches me how to land a trout."

"Sounds fair," she agreed. At least he'd hit it off with this man who looked – and maybe acted? – a whole lot like a man who could be his dad. The heavy fear that had hung over her for days finally lifted, and Betty found she could deal with the absurdity and uncertainty of it all so much better now that she and Daniel were again side by side.

"I'll let you finish saying hello to your journalist, ah, friend. Cindy and I can get the pie out of the icebox." Mr. Pulaski went back indoors, giving them another moment alone.

Taking Daniel's hand, Betty said, "You seem okay, actually. Are you?"

"I am now." Daniel shook his head, still smiling at her open-mouthed with wonder. His voice almost a rasp, he said, "You amaze me."

Betty pulled him down for a kiss. As their lips met, she knew – no matter how strange it was that they were here, they were exactly where they needed to be. Together.

oooooo

Amanda's apartment was, as of now, Kerilyn B. central.

Her schedule covered one wall; potential outfits covered another. Marc had said Amanda needed to make the girl hire an assistant, pronto, but for the time being, Amanda was the only support Kerilyn had and it was up to her to make it work.

"Okay, so, now she's doing MTV after lunch on Monday, and then there's the Smirnoff bash. I'm thinking white, for maximum contrast with the fake Cheetoh tan. What do you think?" she called, as she held up a spandex minidress – classic tacky, but the visible blue thong beneath would take it down a notch to the true Kerilyn B. level.

From his place on the sofa, Tyler just shrugged, "I guess that works. You're better at this kind of thing than I am."

"Too true." Which was only her teasing him, and yet Tyler sank down further in the sofa. He'd been kind of gloomy all day, really; it was pretty annoying of him.

Maybe that was selfish – Amanda now occasionally asked herself this question, because Tyler brought it out in her – but she thought Tyler's weird mood was even more selfish. This was her big break! Kerilyn B. was nobody from nowhere, and she did this one tacky thing that should have bought her one joke on Jimmy Kimmel, max. But then Amanda had sent her out in that coppery miniskirt with bright white panties on and made sure the photogs caught a flash of it by instructing Kerilyn on the absolute worst way to get a car. Upskirts sans underwear were so 2007 – but the panties were perversely sexier. And tackier. And attention-getting. Now Kerilyn had more invites than she knew what to do with, and there was a possibility of an endorsement deal with Hellman's. That was what you called some expert styling.

Was Tyler congratulating her on that? He was not. He was moping on her sofa like his cat just died, or "One Tree Hill" got canceled, or something else awful had happened.

He was still her sweet baby, though, so instead of snapping at him, she said, "What's the matter?"

"I guess I'm kind of freaked out."

"By the mayo thing? We can totally switch to mustard."

"No. By the whole Chaniel thing."

"You can't take that guy seriously."

"I don't. At least – I don't want to. But now Daniel's taken off for Missouri, and Alexis was acting really weird when she and DJ got in this afternoon, and Yoga keeps saying she can smell trouble. If anybody could smell trouble, it would be her."

Amanda found that even the mention of this annoyed her. "Listen. Daniel is one hundred percent total Meade. It's so obvious. I can't believe you'd even doubt him for a second after he came back to save us during the whole creepy hostage thing."

Tyler gave her a look. "You get really defensive about Daniel."

"Well, duh. He's my friend."

"He used to be more than that."

She shrugged. "Back in ye olden days."

"As in March?"

Amanda had almost forgotten about Daniel/Amanda 2: Electric Boogaloo, a.k.a. her one stint in grief counseling. "Oh, right, then too, but that was no big."

Tyler's eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'then too'?"

It occurred to Amanda only then that, while she had never set out to lie to Tyler about Daniel, she had never precisely spelled out how involved they'd been. She'd never seen the need. Her feelings for Daniel were totally over; Daniel's feelings for her had never been closer than they were now – he actually liked her more when they weren't sleeping together, which was weird, but whatever. Besides, she'd always figured Daniel filled Tyler in on the deets.

But apparently Daniel had figured she was doing the filling in. Which meant Tyler was only now learning that she and Daniel hadn't been a one-time thing.

"Um," she said. "Well, we did go out before."

"Before when?"

"Before the other time we went out."

Tyler rose slowly from the sofa. "When you defended him yesterday, I thought – I had this moment where I – but I said, no. That's stupid. Don't be jealous of how your girlfriend feels loyal to your brother. They're friends. They might have gone out, if things had been different, but that's all there is to it. But it's not, is it?"

Pleading, Amanda stepped over a pile of six-inch metallic heels on the floor to get closer to him. "Tyler, come on. You know I only love you."

His expression gentled, but only for a moment. "I wish you'd been clear with me about this from the beginning."

"I wasn't lying to you, I swear. I really thought you understood everything."

"Just tell me this." Tyler took a deep breath. "Did you ever have sex with Daniel?"

Amanda clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God, you understood nothing."

Tyler went pale, and Amanda's stomach did the same nauseating flip she'd felt the first time she watched Kerilyn B.'s sex tape. She wanted to say something to make it all better, but she had a feeling the only thing he wanted to hear was that she and Daniel had never slept together. That was a massive lie beyond her ability to tell, even at her lowest – and she could never be at her lowest, not with Tyler.

But as he stormed out and slammed the door behind him, she felt herself falling down to that low place all over again.

oooooo

I really like these people, Daniel thought.

They were seated around the Pulaski family dinner table, after a long afternoon that had been half-successful, half-not: Bob was definitely buying an iPad, but Daniel and Betty had failed so spectacularly at fishing that they were now dining on take-out barbecue, which was so delicious it almost made up for that time Daniel accidentally snagged the hook on his own shoe.

Under the pretext of reporting, he'd learned a lot about the Pulaskis: They appeared to be very happily married; they were friendly and open to a point that Daniel, as a New Yorker, considered almost bizarre; and they owned a pumpkin farm. Daniel had never once in his life thought about the fact that pumpkins had to be grown somewhere, instead of magically appearing at Halloween. He got Cindy's opinions about HOT FLASH, Bob's opinions about small towns versus big cities, and jokes from both of them about his pretty girlfriend.

(Of course, they'd adored Betty on sight. How could you not? Daniel no longer remembered that this was even possible.)

However, only now, over dinner, did he dare to venture the question that had been on his mind all day: "You know, we haven't talked about children. Do you have any?"

Across the table, Betty paused with her glass of iced tea only halfway to her lips. But he thought both of them managed to keep their expressions neutral.

"We have two," Cindy said. "Our youngest is our daughter, Julie. She's 28. Prettiest thing you ever laid your eyes on. If you weren't so crazy about Betty here, I'd probably try to fix you two up."

Uh-oh. "Um, did she ever visit New York, or work there in the modeling or entertainment industries? Or maybe food service? Bartending?" It all came out of Daniel's mouth in a rush.

Bob and Cindy shared a confused look, but Bob said, "No, Julie's never been anywhere near the big city if she could help it. She's a country girl. Big animals vet. Has a practice in the Kansas City suburbs."

That was a huge relief. Daniel thought his week was weird enough without having any incest scares thrown in.

It was Betty who calmly said, "Who's your older child?"

"Our son, Chad." Cindy's voice was heavy now. "We haven't spoken to him in a few years."

"Cindy, I don't know." Bob leaned onto the table, and somehow he looked older than he had before. "This isn't something I'm ready to have in a magazine."

"I don't want to pry." This was a huge lie, and Daniel knew it – he longed to pry. But already he felt protective enough toward Bob and Cindy not to want to hurt them. The subject of Chad Pulaski clearly hurt them a lot. "It's okay."

"It'd be better if none of this was in HOT FLASH," Cindy said. "But – what is it they say? Off the record. That's it. Off the record, Chad was always a fish out of water here. He never fit in. So bright, so handsome – but he always wanted something besides what he had."

"Never tried to make him be a farmer," Bob murmured. "Always told him, anything you want to be, son. The thing is, he wanted to be someone else. And that never changes, no matter how hard you try."

I'm not so sure, Daniel thought. But his mind was racing. Was assuming false identities maybe some kind of psychological sickness Chaniel had? It would explain a lot.

"A few years ago, we learned – well, I was ill, and – " Cindy's voice trailed off. Then, more strongly, she said, "Let's just say we learned some things as a family that I thought we could have handled as a family. But Chad wouldn't have any of it. He walked away from us, and I don't know if he'll ever come back. But we'll always love him. That's all there is to say about it."

Her story matched Chaniel's, as far as it went – and by now, Daniel was positive that Cindy and Bob weren't in on the scam.

Betty had caught it too, and her saw her dark eyes searching his, concerned that he might break down or freak out. Both of those sounded like excellent ideas, but Daniel found he had to ask something else first: "Are you okay, Cindy?"

"What's that?" She was clearly distracted by her painful memories of her son.

"You said you were sick," Daniel explained. "But you're better now?"

A soft smile lifted some of the sadness from her expression. "Yes, I'm fine. You've got yourself a sweet one here, Betty."

"I sure do." Betty brushed her fingers along his forearm, and the touch soothed him more than anything else could have done.

Bob put his napkin beside his plate. "Tell you what. Why don't you two walk down to the back pond? It's pretty at night, particularly when we've got a full moon like we do. Let me and Cindy clear the table."

"We can help," Betty began, but Daniel turned his hand over to capture hers.

"I'd like to see that moon," he said. Her face changed slightly as she realized what he'd seen; after the difficult conversation about Chad, Bob and Cindy wanted some time alone.

They went out together, hand in hand. For a while the only sounds were their feet on the grass and the rhythmic chirping of insects and frogs. "I forget," Daniel murmured. "How quiet it is everywhere else."

"And how many stars there are." Betty pointed upward at a spangled sky totally unlike the electric-fogged night of New York City. The heat, which had been nearly unbearable at noon, had settled into a pleasant, enveloping warmth. Tonight would have been dazzlingly beautiful at any time; with Betty here beside him, it was almost perfect.

But there was no forgetting why he was here.

The Pulaskis had a weathered white bench by the pond, and they sat together, side by side. Daniel said, "Well, you heard her. The stories match."

"It still doesn't mean anything," Betty insisted.

He breathed out. "I know. Chaniel could be mixing the truth in with the lies. Only the DNA can tell us anything for sure."

"That's not what I was saying."

Confused, Daniel looked at her. "What do you mean?"

A soft breeze fluttered Betty's long hair; her creamy yellow dress seemed to be made of the moonlight. She put one hand over his – the only way in which they touched. "When you told me you were coming down here, you said that you had to know who it is who loves me."

Daniel nodded. That seemed obvious.

She shook her head, smiling gently at him. "I already know who that is. It's the guy who bought me this necklace when I lost my first one." The fingers of her free hand found the B at her throat for a moment. "It's the guy who read that entire childish diatribe about him on my blog but still got up at the Blobbys in front of a booing crowd to talk about how wonderful I was. The guy who held me after Jesse hooked up with Amanda, the one who told me I was beautiful. The one who applauded for me when I walked on the MODE catwalk. The guy who stood with me on the Brooklyn Bridge. That's the man who loves me – the man I love."

The words washed over him, and Daniel felt as though he couldn't speak. The idea that Betty loved him back – knowing him, inside and out, she still loved him back –

It was the first time that being "Daniel Meade" had been meaningless. All the money, all the baggage, everything else just dropped away. Daniel felt as if he were setting foot on Earth for the first time in his life, touching down, solid and real. As if his skin and flesh were all he'd ever had and all he would ever need. It was enough to be himself, and that had to be true, because somehow, this miracle had happened. Betty loved him.

Even more softly, Betty said, "It doesn't matter what your birth name was. It doesn't matter what your DNA might be. I know who you really are, down deep. That's why I love you – and that will never change."

oooooo

They kissed for a long time, twined together on the bench. Betty linked her arms around Daniel's neck as she gasped in one deeper breath, let him kiss his way down her throat, then pulled him back to her lips. The warmth and nearness of him was overpowering, but it was the rawness of the emotion between them – the lack of any separation, now, except the physical – that made her feel almost weak with need.

When finally they broke apart, he whispered, "We should probably go back in. Say goodbye."

"I didn't get a hotel room," Betty confessed. "I thought – I thought I'd stay with you."

"God, yes." Daniel kissed her again, even more passionately than before, but only for a few moments. She understood; they had somewhere else to go.

Together they said goodnight to the Pulaskis, who seemed to have recovered their calm – and whose gentle, knowing smiles suggested they understood enough of what was going on to let Betty and Daniel leave in a hurry.

"I'll call about the story," Daniel promised, and Betty realized he already cared about them – and would even when they proved not to be his birth parents. Why had she worried about him being overcome? He had a bigger heart than most people gave him credit for. Her included, sometimes. Himself included. But now, tonight, they both understood the truth.

Somehow they managed to get back to Daniel's hotel, despite reckless placement of hands on thighs and some feverish making out at stoplights. It was a small place, not ritzy, but not cheap or ugly like she'd briefly feared; the room was cool, a welcome respite from the summer heat, and the bed was broad and soft when they sank onto it.

"I love you," Daniel kept whispering as they struggled with their clothes, breaking apart only long enough to take off his shirt, then her dress. "I love you so much."

"And I love you."

She shed everything except her B necklace; his hands covered hers when she went for the clasp, and she realized he wanted her to leave it on. That felt right, somehow. As right as the sensation of his hands on her body, his skin against her skin.

Before, when they were first becoming involved, Betty had experienced some intimidation at the thought of sex with Daniel, worldly as he was. But only once that whole night – the first time she saw him naked next to her, his whole sculpted body laid bare, and she thought Oh, my God, he's perfect – did any of that hesitation cross her mind. Even then it vanished as he pulled her atop him, lips on her collarbones, her shoulders, her breasts. This was Daniel – her Daniel, the man she knew and loved better than any other – and nothing else could get in their way.

When they were finally moving together, moaning and beyond words, Betty knew that she'd never experienced anything like this. Sex, yes. Good sex, even. But she'd never felt as if she were giving anyone her whole self, beyond her body, without any hesitation or doubt. Nobody had ever given this to her, either, but she knew Daniel was totally with her in a way no other man had ever been.

This is what I really wanted, she thought in a daze. What we both really needed. This is what matters most.

oooooo

Alexis paced along the third-floor balcony of the house, longing for a cocktail. But this was Mom's house, and Tyler's, which was why she had nothing to comfort her but sparkling cider.

"I'm concerned about Tyler," Mom said, folding her arms across her chest. Her jade silken jacket gleamed; Mom's hair was expertly coiffed. Still, her mother was going on with business as usual. "He seemed extremely moody after he got back from Amanda's. Any idea what's up?"

"Your denial may have been a necessary survival mechanism during our childhoods, Mom, but right now, it's just getting in the way." Alexis put her cider down and turned to face her mother. "Did you even hear what I told you?"

"About Chaniel?" Mom spat out the nickname Daniel had given the man with the deepest contempt. "Honestly. Why are you all letting this man get to you?"

"Because he's credible."

And because I never realized until now how much I needed Daniel to be my brother. How much we all need him. He's the glue.

Downstairs, Alexis could hear DJ and Yoga laughing; apparently he was teaching her how to play Kingdom Hearts. The Meades had turned from a dysfunctional, angry family to a family where even that friendship was possible. How much of that would go away if Daniel wasn't Daniel? She didn't know.

Just then, her mother's phone chimed; Mom lifted it and smiled in triumph. "The DNA lab – the premier testing facility in the city. They put a rush on the results for us. So let's take a look and put this stupid matter behind us for good."

Alexis stood at her mother's shoulder as the file opened on the screen. At first all the numbers failed to make much sense, but the conclusions at the bottom would spell everything out.

They scrolled down. They read. Alexis felt her mother go very, very still.

She wanted to put her arms around Mom, but she couldn't move. All Alexis could do was think, We just lost the glue.

END OF EPISODE

Tune in to "Season Five: New York, New York" for the next episode – "My One and Only."

(Songs: "Family Tradition," Hank Williams Jr.; "Science and Faith," The Script; "God Put A Smile Upon Your Face," Coldplay)