Chapter 25 Caught in the Rain

"…you just learn to recognize when people are lying to you," Keith said to Logan as they waited for their dinner at the Tin Fish. "It's a sense you develop, I guess. The trick is to figure out why they're lying; they're not always guilty of the crime you're investigating…" he looked up and saw the younger man's eyes slide past him and he could tell from the look on Logan's face that Veronica was returning to their table. Intercepting the way this young man and his daughter looked at each other had felt like an invasion of privacy for years but now that they were married, Keith was allowing himself to get used to it. He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Veronica was there.

She slid back into her chair at the table by the lake just as their meal was served.

"Hey, Dad. Are you familiar with Marcia Ball?" She asked, hooking an onion ring out of the basket with a finger and taking a bite.

"Of course. So are you." Keith said, picking up his fish sandwich. "'Luella'? 'Let the Tears Roll Down'?"

"Oh, that's her? Have you ever seen her in concert?"

"Once. God, she puts on a spectacular show!" Keith turned to Logan. "She's this tall, slim, southern brunette who plays the piano with her entire body."

"What, like with her feet?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

"NO, I don't mean literally; I mean she throws herself into it as though playing were an athletic event." Keith explained. "I've never seen a performer enjoy the stage more than she does." He looked at his daughter, who never asked pointless questions. "Why?"

"She's playing at the Amphitheater at the Minnesota Zoo tomorrow night and we're going!"

"WHAT?" Keith almost dropped his dinner. Logan chuckled.

"That was Marla on the phone," Veronica said, excitedly. "She and Elliot have subscriptions to the concerts there and Elliot had to bail, so there she was with three extras and she immediately thought of the three of us. Isn't that great?"

"That is great." Keith nodded, avoiding Logan's eye.

"I'm gonna run up and get some more ketchup," Veronica said. "Anyone want anything? Another beer?"

"I'm ready for another." Her dad said, unable to keep the grin off his face.

"Me, too." Logan nodded.

Veronica stood and walked up to the window. Logan looked at Keith, his face a bland mask but for his eyes, which danced with glee.

"So, I guess she likes jazz." He said, downing the last of his beer.

"Not a word out of you." Keith tried to make his voice stern but he was nodding like an extraordinarily happy bobble head.

"And three extra tickets! Hmmm." Logan mused. "How fortuitous. Serendipitous, even."

"Who's Elliot?" Keith asked, a crease suddenly marring his face.

"Her partner." Logan said with a smirk. "He's fabulous."

"Ah." Keith smiled again as Veronica returned with ketchup and beer.

Sunday morning, Logan and Keith got up early for a round a golf before Veronica even peeled herself out of bed.

She sent JR away and had a big brunch ready for them herself when they returned. They ate in the kitchen since the temperatures were already in the nineties by the time they came back from the course. During the heat of the day, Keith read Logan's first draft, which he liked as much as Veronica did.

The three of them spent several hours in the library, discussing the unfolding of cases that Keith and Veronica had worked and the dramatic ways in which such stories could be told. Both the Mars were impressed with Logan's thoughts and ideas on the topic; how different authors and directors had handled them; the doling out of clues, the importance of point of view and how much to let the reader or audience know and when and how.

Keith was frankly blown away not only by the quality of the writing in the chapters that Logan had already produced but by the depth of the kid's knowledge of the genre in both literature and cinema.

Veronica laughed out loud when she caught the look on her dad's face. "Scary, isn't it?" she said. "I told you! But it's not just that he reads everything and sees everything; it's that he remembers all of it!"

"My memory's nowhere near as good as yours." Logan said, blinking in surprise.

"You've always been good at connecting the dots, too." Veronica went on, remembering a long ago case. "You figured out who stole your Mom's credit cards before I did."

"Only because you wasted so much time barking up the wrong tree. I was able to clear your prime suspect immediately." Logan dismissed her admiration of his skills with a shrug and turned to the sheriff. "My head's just full of usless trivia, is all."

"Not so useless, apparently." Keith corrected him. "You've clearly developed some definite ideas for how to do this."

"It's story telling." Logan shrugged. "Been doing that my whole life."

"So have I," Veronica said, nodding toward his manuscript. "But I can't do this. You might as well admit it; you have talent."

"And here I was; resigned to getting by on looks alone." Logan smirked.

"Good way to starve to death." Keith snorted.

"Aw, who's prettier than he is?" Veronica asked her dad.

"Seems to me, a pretty face trumps all the talent in the world these days." Logan said, cynically.

"Well then it's a good thing you're rich!" Keith laughed.

"It is, isn't it?" Logan grinned.

"I think you're beautiful." Veronica leaned in and kissed her husband.

"Hey. Stop it." Keith objected. "Get a room."

"We got a whole house, Dad." She reminded him.

"Should I repair to my room?" He asked. "Do you two need to be alone?"

"NO." Logan looked horrified. "Ronnie! Not in front of the parental unit! Jeez."

"See that, Dad?" Veronica nodded toward Logan. "He's pretty and circumspect. How lucky am I?"

"He's kind of a prude, isn't he?" Keith said in an undervoice.

"Oh, that's it." Logan sighed. It had taken him a few years to get used to the way these two teased each other but he was onto them now. He grabbed his wife and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her soundly. Having rendered her breathless, he looked up at Keith and said "You want to watch, Sheriff? You might learn a few things."

"NO." Keith stood up in alarm.

"Then get out, both of you." Logan said, placing Veronica on her feet in front of him, where she made a soft noise of disappointment. "The pretty might come easy but the writing takes work."

Logan stayed in the library and worked while Veronica took her dad upstairs to show him the huge closet she'd converted into a photo studio. She had already covered a section of the wall with prints. Keith especially liked the ones she's made of her friends at Minnehaha falls the week before. He watched while she loaded the card from the night before into her computer and pulled up the images of himself and Logan at Lake Calhoun, the sunset painting the sky in blazing colors behind them. He couldn't decide what he liked best; the photos themselves or her obvious excitement at having rediscovered her love of photography and the fun she was having.

Later in the afternoon, the three of them pulled the new canoe on its ultra light trailer over to the beach and Keith and Veronica took the boat out while Logan swam. In the middle of the lake, Keith abandoned ship and swam to shore just to make Veronica paddle herself back to the beach. She tried to cajole her husband into swimming to her rescue but that cold hearted brat just laughed at her from his comfortable spot on the sand and she finally had to pick up her oar and get herself back to shore.

"I can't believe you two." She growled as she dragged the boat up onto the sand.

"I thought it was high time you exerted yourself." Keith laughed. "You were making me do all the work out there."

"And you." She glared at Logan. "You're supposed to cherish me."

"I do!" He laughed. "I will cherish the image of you paddling yourself to shore for the rest of my days!"

"Some knight in shining armor you are." She thrust the oar at him.

"Do you know what kind of damage water does to armor?" he asked, dragging the canoe back up onto the trailer. "Squeaks…rust…I'm telling you; there's not enough armor polish in the world."

"Since when do you need rescuing?" Keith asked. "What happened to the girl who can do anything?"

"Just because I can do anything doesn't mean I want to do it." She shrugged, looking at the palms of her hands. "I almost got a blister."

"Just because you don't want to doesn't mean you shouldn't do it anyway." Her Dad threw his arm around her neck.

"You almost capsized me when you jumped." She said, trying unsuccessfully to suppress her smile.

"Hey, tomorrow I want to try your sail board." Keith looked at Logan. "It doesn't look as hard as… you know; surfing."

"You sure? I mean…you're kind of old." Logan teased him. "Ronnie will kill me if you get hurt."

"He'll be fine." She said, callously.

"I'm not completely decrepit." Keith protested. "Anyway, there's something to hang onto, right? And I'll wear a life jacket."

"Oh my God." Logan groaned at the mental image this conjured up. Veronica just giggled and reminded them that they were expecting Marla for dinner soon, so they'd best be getting back to the house and into some clothes.

Bryn was in the kitchen, cutting fresh fruit into a bowl. JR had been slow grilling several racks of ribs all afternoon. A pot of peeled potatoes was waiting to be made into Bryn's Mom's famous fresh potato salad.

"Folk tales are more than just stories or even morality tales," she was explaining to JR. "They not only helped our ancestors understand and explain the natural world around them, the stories were a way to teach their kids how to get by; in the original tale of Red Riding Hood, the wolf ate her, you know."

"Thereby teaching them not to play with wolves?" JR asked, beginning to chop potatoes. "Medieval kids were stupid."

"All kids start out stupid. Well, maybe not stupid; just naïve and trusting. Cut those a little bit smaller please. Bite size. That's not bite size. Not everyone has a mouth as big as yours."

"My, Grand ma, what a huge yap you have." JR cut the potato smaller.

"Kids need to be taught that the world and more specifically; the people in it can be dangerous." Bryn pointed out.

"So…don't talk to strangers."

"That's right. And sometimes the danger can come from someone who looks like a family member. Do you know what the leading cause of death is for little kids in this country, in this century?"

"Their mother's boyfriends." JR was up on his crime statistics.

"Exactly! Disney did the world a great disservice by cleaning up Folk tales. In the original Cinderella, she made her mother and step sisters dance at her wedding; in red hot iron shoes."

"Payback is a bitch." JR winced.

"Some folk tales just helped people explain day to day tragedies." Bryn went on. "For instance, hundreds of years ago, people had no explanation for things like birth defects; a baby born with spina bifida, hydrocephaly, anencephaly, even a cleft palate was explained away with the tale of the changeling."

"The changeling?"

"Fairies were notorious for stealing newborns and replacing them with ugly fairy creatures known as changelings."

"Ew. What happened to those kids?"

"What do you think? A typical remedy was for Dad to take the baby out on his way to the fields in the morning, dig a shallow grave, leave the kid there to die of exposure and fill in the grave on his way home from work. Assuming the fairies didn't take the thing back."

"The fairies?"

"Or predators."

"Oh shit." JR slammed the knife down and looked at her in dismay.

"It's a cruel world." Bryn shrugged. "Changelings weren't the only infants to suffer that fate. Unwanted babies didn't always get left in a basket on the steps of the church. You think there's anything new under the sun?"

"I keep hoping."

"Well, not all folk tales are to cover up such bloody mindedness. Take the Selkies, for instance. Without some sort of explanation for the occasional black haired, brown eyed Irishman, just think of the numbers of women who would've been turned out by their husbands for infidelity or burned as witches!"

"Doing it with seals didn't count as cheating? What about dolphins? You get a freebie there, too?"

"The Selkie line could easily have been in her or her husband's genetic makeup. Every once in a while, a dark one pops out. It works both ways, you know; my Dad is black Irish. He looks just like Grandpa but Gramps is blue eyed and freckled. Imagine me with blue eyes and red hair and you've got my cousin Ellie."

"I'd like to meet her."

"Hunh. We'll see." Bryn put down her knife and wiped her hands on a towel.

"Genetics is an imprecise science," JR commented as the door bell rang.

Marla held her breath while waiting for the bell to be answered. She exhaled when the door swung inward.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she blurted out at the pretty, dark haired girl standing at the open door."Who are you?"

"I'm Bryn!" the girl said, a huge smile spreading across her face. "You must be Marla!"

"BRYN." JR said, coming up behind her. "Get back in the kitchen where you belong! Answering the door is MY job!"

"Don't order me around, I don't even work here!" Bryn snapped back at him. "He thinks he's in charge," she said to Marla, "but he's not the boss of anyone."

"Go on!" he shooed her toward the kitchen. "I am the only one around here who gives a crap about proper procedure." He turned to Marla, who looked bemused. "Let's try again, shall we?"

She opened her mouth but nothing came out as the door swung shut in her face. She bit back a laugh and reached up to ring again. The door instantly swung open.

"Ms. Banks, good evening!" JR said and stepped aside. "The family is still above stairs but you'll find iced tea and margaritas on the back patio."

"Ooh. 'Above stairs'." Marla nodded, impressed. "Have you been watching Masterpiece Theater?"

"Nope; reading P.G. Wodehouse. I feel an affinity with Jeeves." JR said, leading her through the living room to the sunroom.

"But your employer isn't a featherheaded nincompoop." Marla pointed out.

"Imagine what Jeeves could have accomplished had he worked for Admiral Moneybags!" JR mused.

"Admiral Moneybags?" Marla's eyebrow quirked up. "Does Logan know you call him that?"

"He's the one who insisted I promote him from 'Captain'." JR held open the sunroom door to the patio. He drew a chair for her at the table beneath the shade of a colorful umbrella and poured her a margarita.

"I'm not sure I should be drinking this," Marla said. "I'm driving."

"Actually, I think Logan's planning on taking the Range Rover." JR said, going to the grill to brush barbecue sauce onto the meat. "You can just leave your car out front and drink up."

"Oh, lovely!"

JR went back into the kitchen, leaving Marla to enjoy the early evening sunshine as it slanted through the trees at the back of the yard.

After a few moments, Marla decided it couldn't hurt to freshen up and check her hair and makeup before anyone (no one in particular) joined her on the patio. Being intimately familiar with the layout of the house, she went back in through the sun room and turned right to the powder room she knew lay behind the main stairs, between the kitchen and sunroom.

Bryn, having finished with the fruit, had moved on to cutting onions and celery into the potato salad.

"Genetics is an imprecise science," She agreed with JR's last statement when he came back in from the grill. "If it weren't for latent genes and spontaneous mutations, we'd all look pretty much alike by now."

"I do look a lot like my Uncle Morrie."

"Most of us resemble family members but not everyone. Look at Logan. Considering his parents, he should be the best looking guy ever born and he's not."

"Moneybags isn't exactly Quasimodo." JR pointed out as he piled silverware onto a tray for outside.

"No, not at all!" Bryn agreed as she chopped green onions. "He's perfectly nice looking but you have to admit; he's not in his father's league."

In the powder room, Marla was touching up her lip color. She had been aware of the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen but hadn't paid any attention until Bryn's last statement caught her ear.

"Well, that's not even a fair comparison." JR's voice carried through the wall.

"But that's my point!" Bryn said. "His mother was phenomenally beautiful, so theoretically, Logan should be better looking than his dad."

Marla frowned into the mirror, listening. Bryn prefers Keith to Logan, too?

"Plenty of girls think Logan's as hot as his dad, believe me." JR said.

"Well, we do tend to fall for charm and personality as much as chiseled features and hyper virility."

Chiseled features is right but there's nothing hyper about his virility! Marla renewed her efforts at touching up her face, pulling her mascara wand out of her purse. And I thought he was perfectly charming. This is no time to pull punches. Phenomenally beautiful. Huh.

"Charm and personality?" JR laughed. "Then why haven't I been beating them off with a stick?"

"You're not that charming." Bryn shrugged.

"Hey, I got you here, didn't I?"

"I tend to fall for dorky and awkward."

"Lucky me!" JR laughed as he went back out the door to check on the ribs again.

Marla tossed her mascara into her purse, gave herself a satisfied look in the mirror and went into the kitchen.

"Lucky I'm not swooning at the feet of your boss or his dad?" Bryn chortled, hearing footsteps behind her. She spun around and her face transformed into a mask of acute embarrassment as she saw Marla. "Oh! I...I thought you were JR." Bryn stammered.

"No, just me." Marla laughed at the younger girl's obvious discomfort. "Hey, don't be embarrassed; I happen to agree with you!"

"You agree with me?" Bryn asked, confused.

"Well, I may have outgrown falling for dorky and awkward but I'm absolutely with you about Logan's dad."

"Oh." Bryn still looked deeply mortified. "You…you know about Logan's dad?"

"Oh sure. Yesterday." Marla waved away Bryn's embarrassment. "Maybe it's just me but while Logan's not unattractive, his dad is…whoof!"

"Oh," Bryn laughed, relieved. "It's not just you! He's like, proof that there's such a thing as too sexy!"

"I can't believe you think so, too." Marla admitted.

"Please! He may be before my time but looks like that are hard to argue with. Any female who says otherwise is prepubescent or lying."

"No." Marla shook her head. "Not all women find a man like him attractive."

"You're probably right." Bryn sighed and turned back to the potato salad. "Good thing too. After all, we can't all have an international sex symbol with perfect teeth and perfect hair."

"I actually find perfect hair off putting. I like a guy who doesn't care how he looks."

"You do?" Bryn asked.

"Of course!" Marla said. "That natural, easy going confidence is a big part of what makes Logan's dad so attractive."

"I guess that's the real trick, isn't it? I mean, it probably took his stylist hours to pull it all together, but he did manage it, didn't he?"

"What?" Marla frowned in confusion. Just then, JR came back in from the patio.

"Oh, there you are!" he said when he saw Marla. "I thought we'd lost you. Your margarita is melting." He turned to Bryn. "Are you trying to make our guest help with dinner prep?"

"We're in the middle of a conversation here!" Bryn told him.

"Ooh. 'Bout what?" he asked.

"Girl stuff."

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" JR looked suspiciously at both of them.

"We're comparing the appeal of earnest dork to action hero." Bryn confirmed.

"I probably should get back outside," Marla said. "Unless you could use my help with that…"

"NO." JR ushered her toward the door. "Everyone not getting paid to be in the kitchen; out!"

With a shrug, Bryn hopped off her stool and followed Marla to the back door.

"Is the potato salad finished?" he asked. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not getting paid to be in here." She pointed out.

"I didn't mean you. You can stay."

"The potato salad is finished and I don't want to get in your way," she said sweetly as she went out the door.

"OH." His shoulders slumped. "Would you set the table while you're out there? Please?"

"Since you said 'please'…" she smiled over her shoulder at him as the door swung shut behind her.

Marla returned to her chair in the shade of the umbrella and picked up her drink. Bryn came out and began unloading the tray of plates, napkins and flatware.

"That boy really needs an assistant to boss around." She said as she began to set the table.

"He's awfully cute." Marla smirked.

"He is." Bryn grinned as she quickly dealt out the place settings. "Movie idols are fine for fantasies but in real life, I'll take the cute dorky ones every time." Marla nodded as she sipped her drink. Bryn continued to work, swiftly dealing out napkins and setting the flatware on top. "In real life, how often do you find yourself in need of an action hero? So, Moneybags didn't inherit his dad's looks. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? And who wants to see the face of an accused murderer in the mirror every morning?"

"What?" Marla set her drink on the table and looked curiously at Bryn as she finished setting the table.

"There's no way in the world that homicidal maniac would've gotten away with it if he weren't the Sexiest Man Alive." Bryn went on as she looked critically at the table and said "What we need here is some flowers."

She turned and went back into the house without noticing the effect her words had had on Marla. The older woman was sitting still as a stone, staring slack jawed after Bryn. Outwardly, she looked no different than she had a moment before but inside she was screaming.

What? WHAT? Homicidal maniac? Murder? Homicidal WHAT? OH. MY. GAHD!

She had no idea how long she sat, frozen, staring blindly into space as her mind reeled when suddenly the door to the sunroom burst open, startling her and causing her to jump so that she nearly knocked over her margarita. Her head spun around to see Logan striding cheerfully toward her.

Not the face of a homicidal maniac.

"Marla!" he cried, spreading his arms wide in welcome. "Sorry to keep you waiting,"

"Oh." She was surprised to hear herself squeak.

"Look;" he said, spinning around like a fashion model. "I'm wearing a shirt. Veronica and the Sheriff will be down in a minute." He dropped into a chair beside her and picked up the pitcher of margaritas. "I see JR took good care of you, at least." He said as he poured himself a drink. "Those ribs smell great, I hope you're hungry."

"Uh," she stared at him as the words he spoke slowly sank into her consciousness. Veronica and the Sheriff?

Sheriff?

Before Logan could notice her bizarre behavior, the kitchen door swung open again and her head snapped around to see Veronica and Keith come through it, looking at each other and laughing. Their profiles were mirror images.

"My Dad was the Sheriff when I was a kid." She remembered Veronica saying on their way to Indian Hills for their first estate sale.

"He's a P.I. now!" she blurted, her voice a high pitched squeak.

"That's right." Logan nodded. "Everyone in town still calls him Sheriff. Habit, I guess."

"His parents…died and his house burned down while we were still in high school." Veronica's voice echoed through Marla's memory as she snapped her head around a third time to stare gape mouthed at Logan.

Homicidal maniac. Dead parents. Not Keith.

"Keith is Veronica's dad!" she said, stupidly as relief flooded her body. She picked up her margarita and took a long swig.

"Yes." Logan looked curiously at her as he sipped his margarita. He frowned at the glass.

"Marla!" Veronica greeted her. "Sorry we took so long. Dad went all girly on me and couldn't decide on a shirt. I think he looks grand."

"Veronica stop; you're making me blush." Keith smiled as he sat in the chair beside Marla, who was staring at him with an odd look on her face. "I look okay." He said self deprecatingly.

"You look great." Marla gushed. "Sheriff!" and then she started to laugh, hysterically.

"Take this," Logan handed Veronica his margarita. "I always forget how much I hate these. Is there any beer out here?" he looked up as Bryn returned, bearing a vase of cut flowers for the center of the table.

By the time Bryn had set out the flowers and provided Logan and Keith with bottles, Marla had managed to get herself under control and soon JR was serving the ribs.

Shortly before seven o'clock, they arrived at the Minnesota Zoo. The Zoo was in Apple Valley, a third ring suburb south of town. The Minnesota Zoo was patterned after the San Diego zoo in that the animal exhibits were designed to mimic the natural habitats of the wildlife. No cages for animals here; the monkeys had large play areas with plenty of climbing opportunity and the big cats paddocks were so heavily forested that you could wait for days and never catch a glimpse of the tigers. To lure tourists to a zoo in which the possibility of seeing no animals at all was very real, the zoo had added attractions; an Imax theater and one of the nicest, most intimate amphitheaters for live shows in the state. All summer long,the Minnesota Zoo hosted such performers as Marcia Ball, Pat Green, Delbert McClinton and Crowded House.

The amphitheater was located about a third of a mile from the parking lot. Wide gravel paths lead beneath a canopy of trees, past ponds and streams into the woods where the theater itself offered a gorgeous setting for a concert with the woods surrounding it and a lake behind the stage.

The place was small, only holding a few hundred fans but a wonderful venue; no obstructed seats and room for dancing. Seating for most shows was first come, first served but since the entire place was right on top of the stage, there were no bad seats. Beer, wine and cocktails were available at the concession stand.

Logan had looked up directions to the zoo before dinner and so Marla was easily talked into leaving her car at the Mars' house and they all rode out in the Range Rover. Veronica had intended to climb into the back with her so that her dad could sit in front with Logan, but Keith had hopped into the back beside Marla before Veronica could act.

It was a hot but very beautiful evening as they joined the crowd walking through the woods to the amphitheater. Keith stopped at the stand and bought a round of drinks and they went down the steps into the rows of bench seating. It was already crowded but they found room on an aisle near the top.

"This is great." Veronica said, looking around. "It's so small!"

"I know," Marla nodded. "This is my favorite venue. Not only is the setting gorgeous but it's so small it's like having a concert in your back yard."

"Actually, when you do that, the logistics are a nightmare, so this is actually better." Logan commented as he looked around. "Plus, you don't have to live with the mess afterwards."

Marla looked at Logan, curious about this wealthy young man she really didn't know at all but before she had a chance to wonder who may have performed in his back yard, Keith said "Anyone familiar with Cowboy Mouth?"

"Is that the opening act?" Veronica said, pulling out her phone.

"They're a country/rock band out of New Orleans," Marla said. "That's all I know."

"If the Neville brothers and the Clash had a baby, it would be Cowboy Mouth." Veronica read off her phone.

"Did you Google them?" Logan asked.

"Nah, I Pizzed them; it's quicker." She flashed him her phone.

"Piz should write a book." Keith said, shaking his head in admiration for the extent of the kid's knowledge of the music world.

"Chuck Klosterman already did." Logan told him.

"According to their website," Marla read, "On a bad night, Cowboy Mouth will tear the roof off the joint and on a good night, they'll save your soul. Sounds good to me!"

"Me too." Logan downed his beer. "My soul can use all the saving it can get."

There was no roof on the amphitheater but the New Orleans based band whose shorts clad drummer was also the lead singer rocked the zoo. By the time they finished their set and the sun had gone down, the crowd was happy, sweaty, a little bit drunk and more than ready to stomp to Marcia Ball.

When the tall, slim southern lady finally took her seat at the keyboards and thanked the crowd for coming out to see her, they roared their approval and she set to work.

Marla and Keith swayed and danced in their seats but Logan grabbed Veronica by the hand and pulled her down to the narrow strip of concrete in front of the stage to really dance. They weren't alone; a half dozen couples were there, along with a handful of women, dancing by themselves. Lynne had made sure that Trina and Logan could dance long before they hit adolescence, believing (correctly in the case of those two) that social knowledge was social power.

After three numbers, Veronica was grateful for a slow song. She rested her head against Logan's chest and tightened her arms around his neck. She smiled contentedly as she felt his hands on her back, his arms holding her tightly.

"Do you remember the first time we ever slow danced?" she murmured.

"Of course I do," his voice was intimate, drifting down into her ear. "The memory still occasionally wakes me up in a cold sweat."

"It's not a good memory?" She frowned but didn't lift her head away from the sound of his heartbeat.

"Good? " He scoffed. "Do you remember our first slow dance?"

"Of course I do! Senior year; spring dance. I pulled you away from the ticket table to rescue Gia Goodman from whatever horrible thing you were about to say to her."

"God, she was an annoying girl. I think she was afraid that if she couldn't hear the sound of her own voice, she'd cease to exist."

"Gia was okay, deep down. Is that why our first dance gives you night terrors?"

"No." She smiled at the feel of his chuckle against her cheek. "You really are clueless, aren't you?"

"Did you hate me that much?" she teased him. "Dancing with me was torture?"

"I've done more than dance with girls I hated." He said dryly as his arms tightened around her. "It was torture because I loved you that much. You dragged me onto that floor and all I could think was 'don't do this to me'. You were close enough to smell and it almost killed me. Then you put your arms around me and I thought 'don't do this to me'. I held my breath until it hurt and when I put my hands on your waist all I wanted to do was kiss you until you loved me again and I just kept thinking 'don't do this to me'."

"Do you really think I would've dragged you out onto that dance floor if I hadn't wanted you to kiss me? Talk about clueless."

"Cruel, wicked girl."

"Silly, stupid boy."

"Well, I wasn't exactly up to reading between the lines that night. I was concentrating on not having a hideously embarrassing condition on the dance floor."

"Can you read between the lines tonight?" she lifted her head and smiled demurely at him.

"Don't do this to me." He groaned.

"Is that rain?" Marla looked up to see that the stars had all disappeared while they danced. Before Keith could even answer her question, a flash of lightening was quickly followed by a boom of thunder. Despite the canopy over the stage, the band halted due to the safety considerations of playing electrical instruments in a lightning storm. The musicians retreated to the safety of the dressing rooms while the fans huddled in their seats, waiting to see if the storm would pass quickly but the light sprinkle Marla had first noticed quickly became a steady rain, followed by more flashes of lightning and louder, closer thunderclaps. Someone must have checked the weather maps because less than ten minutes after the music stopped, it was announced that the remainder of the concert was cancelled due to the weather and the fans were urged to get out of the rain immediately.

"Well, I guess that's that." Marla said, pushing her wet hair off her forehead and looking sadly at Keith. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be." Keith said with a smile. "This was a really great time."

"Personally, I think Cowboy Mouth was worth the price of admission." Logan agreed.

"Hey, we sang, we danced, who's complaining?" Veronica said as they joined the crowd as it moved toward the top and back of the amphitheater. "Let's get back to the car."

"I really wanted to dance." Marla said, as they walked back on the dark wooded path toward the parking lot. "It looked like you two were having so much fun."

"I didn't know you liked to dance," Keith said. "We could have danced; I'm a great dancer."

"Really? So many men won't even try." Marla said.

"Oh, Dad's good." Veronica assured her. "He can cut a rug to bits."

"You're quite a dancer, Logan." Marla said, turning to him. "Most guys your age are way too self conscious to get out on the dance floor but you look very comfortable out there."

"Self conscious?" Veronica laughed. "In high school, he was comfortable on stage in his tighty-whities ala Risky Business."

"Really?" Marla looked delighted.

"What are you talking about?" Logan asked, frowning at his wife.

"Junior year, 80's dance; he was Tom Cruise, button down shirt, jockey briefs, sunglasses and all." Veronica said.

"I don't remember that." Logan shook his head.

"You threatened to kick the ass of anyone who didn't wang chung." Veronica reminded him.

"I don't think that was me." Logan insisted.

"It sounds like you." Keith couldn't help but pointing out.

"If Trina hadn't shown up to take you home, Leo was going to arrest you." Veronica reminisced.

"That could have been any dance." Logan admitted. He turned to Veronica. "What was Leo doing at a high school dance?"

"Yeah, what was Leo doing there?" Keith asked.

"He was…kinda my date." Veronica said. "It would have been our first date but then you happened…"

"Ah, yes. That rings a faint bell." Logan grinned. "I was pissed."

"What you were was shit faced." Veroncia corrected him.

"No, I was pissed cuz I thought you were with Leo." Logan insisted.

"Leo and I went out about three times and then you happened again…"

"Yeah, that part I really remember." Logan grabbed Veronica's ass but her answer was lost in a deafening clap of thunder as the clouds burst over them and the steady light rain suddenly became a downpour.

"Oh, nice." Marla said.

"Yikes." Logan grabbed Veronica by the hand and pulled her into a run down the dark path.

"You don't want to run, do you?" Keith asked Marla as rivulets coursed down his face.

"In these shoes? I don't think so." Marla answered. "It's a quarter mile to the car. We're going to be soaked no matter what, I don't see the allure in twisting our ankles while we do it."

"It's a warm rain, anyway." Keith said, offering her his arm.

Logan and Veronica arrived at the Range Rover which was parked at the far end of the dark lot, soaked to the skin. Logan unlocked the rig and Veronica scrambled into the front seat.

"Turn on the heat, I'm freezing!" she shivered, pushing dripping hair off her forehead. "The t-temperature must have dropped fifteen degrees in t-ten minutes."

"Hang on," Logan said after a glance at his shivering wife. "My beach bag is in back, I might have something dry for you to put on."

Before she could protest, he was out in the deluge and the back of the car opened up. Climbing into the cargo area, Logan located his bag and pulled out a towel and dry t-shirt, which he tossed to Veronica.

"Take off your wet clothes and dry off." He ordered.

"What, here?" she picked up the towel and began to dry her hair.

"No one's around." Logan looked out the back end at the dark parking lot. "Visibility is about ten feet. You'll catch pneumonia in those clothes. Hurry up, before your dad gets here."

"What about you?" Veronica demanded as she quickly peeled off her wet clothes. "I don't want you to c-catch cold."

"Um…" Logan continued to root through his bag. "I'll put on these." In a flash, he'd peeled off his own wet clothes and was thrashing around in the cargo hold, struggling with a pair of compression shorts he'd found in his beach bag. Veronica, now naked and giggling wildly, tossed the beach towel to her naked husband.

"Hurry!" she chortled as she pulled Logan's enormous t-shirt over her still damp head. She sighed as the warm of the car's heater finally hit her now dry skin.

"I'm hurrying!" Logan said, lying on his back in the cargo bay, trying to kick his damp legs into the compression shorts. "Do you really think I want the Sheriff to catch me like this?" He got on his knees, pulling the shorts up his thighs. Veronica shrieked at the sight of him kneeling in the back of the car, naked but for the strip of spandex binding his thighs. He was laughing so hard his wet hands kept slipping off the shorts but he finally yanked them up over his hips. To avoid going back out into the rain, he pulled the cargo door closed and salmoned into the back seat, then over the front seat into Veronica's lap.

That's where they were, laughing hysterically when Keith and Marla arrived a minute later, looking as dignified as two drowned cats.

"What's so funny?" Keith inquired as he slid into the back seat next to Marla.

"What—what took you so long?" Veronica gasped, tossing the now damp towel back to them.

"Where's Logan?" Marla frowned, using the towel to pat her face dry.

"I'm here." He popped up in the driver's seat.

"What happened to your shirt?" Keith demanded. Logan had given Veronica the only shirt in the bag.

"Nothin'." Logan looked at his father in law in the rear view mirror.

"I should have known you couldn't go an entire evening fully dressed." Marla observed dryly. "Please tell me you're wearing something."

"And what are you wearing?" Keith finally noticed that his daughter wasn't wearing the clothes he'd last seen her in, either.

"Chill Dad," Veronica shrugged. "We're married now; we can do whatever we want on a date."

"Not on a date with me!" Keith protested. "You were only five minutes ahead of us!"

"Face it old man, we're a lot younger and quicker than you." Logan muttered, giggling and picking up the cell phone he'd brought from the cargo space.

"I did not hear that." Keith insisted as Marla began to giggle too.

"We're all here." Veronica punched Logan. "Let's go."

"Just a second," Logan finished texting. "Where are my shoes?"

Back in his apartment, JR and Bryn were watching a movie when he got Logan's text. He read it, frowning.

"Would you pause it for a minute?" he asked. "Moneybags needs me to do something."

"Sure." Bryn hit the button and watched in silence as he headed for the door. "What are you doing?"

"A small task. Should only take a minute." He looked out his front window at the rain and grabbed an umbrella.

"Can't it wait?"

"Nope. Time is apparently of the essence."

"Why?"

"Mine is not to reason why, mine is but to do or die!" He cried gallantly and headed down the stairs and into the rain.

"Into the valley of death rode the six hundred." Bryn muttered, hitting the play button. "What a freak."

The worst of the downpour was over before the Range Rover made it home but a light rain still fell and the lightning and thunder were almost continuous. Despite the show being cut short, they had all had a wonderful time at the zoo; the setting was as beautiful as Marla had promised, the opening act was great and although Ms. Ball's set was curtailed, they all agreed it had been great while it lasted and the run through the rain soaked woods with lightning and thunder crashing around them made it a night to remember. Keith said he didn't even want to know about the change of clothes and was afraid to ask what Logan and Veronica were wearing below the waist. Veronica thought that was just as well, since Logan was wearing nothing but a pair of black compression shorts; also known as underwear and she was commando beneath the large t-shirt.

They were still laughing when they pulled up in front of the house.

"You can let me out at my car," Marla suggested as Logan slowed. "Why does it look funny?"

"I think…you have a flat." Keith said, peering out his window.

"Uh oh." Logan pulled into the driveway and parked. Lightning flashed as he and Keith got out of the car and went to take a look at Marla's tire.

"Oh my God!" Marla gasped.

"You've never had a flat?" Veronica asked, skewing around in the front seat to look at Marla. "I used to get them all the time."

"No—no! Logan!" Marla pointed out the window at the nearly naked young man crouching in the wet grass peering at her tire.

"Oh, yeah." Veronica chuckled as she glanced out the window at the two men standing in the rain. She leaned across and hit the button to lower the window. "Hey! Get back in the car before you catch your death!" she called out to the men. They obediently rose from the wet grass..

OH!" Marla squeaked and covered her face, laughing. Logan may as well have been naked for all the cover his now wet compression shorts provided. He yanked open the driver's door and slid in beside Veronica.

"It's flat," Keith told them, climbing in beside Marla. "But it doesn't look damaged. It's weird…"

"Well, don't worry, I've got a spare," Marla sighed, wiping her streaming eyes. "And a triple A card."

"You'd make a working man come out on a night like this for a flat?" Logan asked as thunder rolled above. "That's crazy."

"The wreckers will all be out, towing cars out of ditches on a night like this." Veronica pointed out. "We saw three between here and the zoo."

"Ah, you're right. This could take hours." Marla agreed. "I'll just call a cab and take care of the car in the morning…"

"Don't be silly," Keith scoffed. "I'll give you a ride home. Logan, get Veronica into some dry clothes and give me the keys."

"You don't even know where Marla lives!" Veronica pointed out. "I don't even know where Marla lives."

"If I ask very nicely, I bet she'll tell me." Her father informed her.

"I don't know," Marla raised her eyebrow at him. "I'd hate for you to think I was fast."

"Hang on," Logan said, pulling the Range Rover into the garage. "I'll get Ronnie into the house and bring you the keys."

Veronica thanked Marla profusely for the concert tickets as the younger couple jumped out of the car. They dashed to the house as Marla and Keith got out of the back seat.

"Of for crying out loud, the knuckle head locked the car." Keith said, pulling futilely on the handle to the driver's side.

"Here he comes," Marla nodded toward the back of the house as Logan, still mostly naked and now soaking wet again, ran across the yard. "Nope, no self consciousness in that kid," she observed.

"Here you go, Sheriff. GPS will get you home again." Logan tossed the key fob to his father in law, turned on his heel and disappeared back into the wet darkness, running toward the house.

"Okay!" Keith said, clicking the unlock button on the fob. He and Marla turned in surprise as the lights of the Ferrari blinked on.

"Oh." Marla blinked and turned to look at Keith, who looked dumbstruck. "I hope you can drive a stick."

"Can I?" Keith looked at her. "Just watch me!"

In the house, Veronica had gone straight up to the master suite while Logan had switched keys for Keith. She peeled off the large t-shirt, dropped it on her bedroom floor and headed for their huge shower. She turned on all four heads and filled the room with hot steam by the time her husband joined her under the spray. She wrapped her arms around him and his kiss was calculated to warm her up from the inside out.

"You're still wearing your shorts." She pointed out when they came up for air.

"Yeah…they're kind of in the way." Logan said, smiling down at her.

"You're going to rip them if you don't get them off pronto." She warned.

"You did this to me."

"Take them off."

"But I'd have to let go of you to get 'em off."

"So…let go. I won't let you fall."

"Can't. Don't want to."

"Well…allow me then…" she slid her hands down his sides to his hips.

The bathroom got steamier.

The rain was barely more than a drizzle as Keith drove Marla to her place; a renovated town house behind DeLaSalle high school on Nicolette Island.

Keith was amazed and impressed as he followed Marla's directions all the way through downtown Minneapolis on Hennepin Avenue, to the Mississippi river, where he hooked a right, down beneath the bridge over the river and around the school campus. He parked the Ferrari in front of Marla's place and got out of the car.

He opened her door for her while looking all around. They were a block behind the high school and the sky scrapers of downtown loomed over the trees from across the river but the street they were on was tree lined and almost bucolic.

"Where are we?" he asked Marla as she rose from the car.

"We're on an island in the middle of the Mississippi river, in the middle of down town Minneapolis." She said, grinning. "Home of the Islanders." She nodded toward the dark high school. "The team's first home game is in a week. The field is up that hill." She pointed in the darkness to the rising ground to the East of the building. "The Island is very small and literally an oasis in the middle of the city."

"From what I've seen, this city is packed with oases." Keith said, impressed.

"It really is." Marla said, nodding. "Our founders were great conservationists and laid out the city so that everyone who lived here would be within walking distance to a park. Even here in the middle of downtown. All the buildings on the Island are historic. My place here is completely updated on the inside but the outside had to adhere to its historic roots. Would you like to come in? You deserve a drink for driving me home; that wasn't in the original plan."

"I'd love a drink but I gotta admit; if it means I get to drive that Ferrari, I hope your car never runs again."

They went up the walk and into Marla's town house. She sat Keith in the livingroom and opened her liquor cabinet.

"What would you like? I have scotch, vodka, some wine…"

"Scotch. Scotch will be fine." Keith said with an involuntary shiver. He was still quite wet.

"Oh, here." She pulled out the bottle and some glasses. "You pour, I've got a sweater you can throw on." She headed toward the stairs to the loft bedroom. "I'll be a second; I'm going to throw on something comfortable."

Keith poured himself a drink wondering if 'put on something comfortable' still meant what it used to mean and how he'd react if it did.

Two minutes later, Marla was back, wearing warm, dry sweats and dragging a comb through her hastily towel dried hair. He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed but he thought she looked more beautiful than ever. She was carrying a gorgeous, soft, fisherman's sweater. He couldn't identify the pang he felt, wondering why she had a man's sweater lying around.

"Put that on before you start sneezing." She said, tossing the sweater to him.

"Oh, that's nice." He said, pulling it on and feeling instantly warmer.

"Of course it's nice. It's Elliot's and he's gay." Marla said, picking up her own drink and falling into one of her soft, overstuffed armchairs.

"What with the sweater and the drink, I hardly remember getting caught in a downpour."

"That was fun." Marla grinned as she sipped her scotch. "I've been to dozens of concerts at the zoo but that's the first time a thunderstorm upstaged the headliner!"

"It was a blast." Keith assured her.

Maybe it was because it really wasn't a first date at all, maybe it was the fact that she put no pressure on him, maybe it was the sweats but Keith couldn't remember ever feeling more comfortable with a woman he'd just met. They talked and laughed and didn't even think to pour a second drink and suddenly hours had gone by. Keith stood, saying that not only would Veronica worry but Logan would report his car stolen if he didn't get back to the house soon.

"I never should have kept you so long!" Marla apologized. "But it's just…I never…"

"I know." Keith said, meeting her eyes at the front door. "Me neither."

"You're going back to the West Coast tomorrow." Marla said. It wasn't a question. "Figures."

"It was lovely meeting you." Keith said. "I'll be back. My daughter lives here."

"Right."

Impulsively, or maybe not…maybe he'd been thinking about it all night long, Keith leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn't a passionate kiss, not a promise of things to come or a bittersweet taste of what could never be. It was just a simple kiss but it was good enough. Plenty damn good enough.

As he got into the Ferrari out front, he paused and looked back at the one light still on in her townhouse.

"Don't do this to me." He muttered, shaking his head.

To be continued...