Writer's Block. Yeah, it sucks. Thanks for your patience!

Bella was jolted awake by the sound of Alice pounding her fist on Bella's bedroom door.

"Wake up! Wake up, girlie!"

"Oh, my gosh, Alice. My alarm is set to go off in less than 10 minutes. Why did I ever give you a key to my place?" she groaned, pulling the pillow firmly over her head.

"So someone could water your plants whenever you go out of town."

"I don't have any plants," Bella protested.

"But if you did. . ." Alice dodged nimbly to one side as Bella's pillow flew past her head.

"Fine. I'm awake. Happy?"

"Absolutely. Oh. Wow. That's beautiful. Where is it from?"

Bella looked up at the sketch that hung above her bed and sighed, "Edward gave that to me. Before the whole nuclear explosion, of course. I mentioned that he's an architect and an artist, right?"

"And that he's flying here pretty much right after Christmas. Yeah. We covered all that. Why do you think I'm here? I couldn't sleep last night, so I finished the alterations. It's time for Sexy Bella to make her debut at the office." Alice proceeded to hang several items up in Bella's closet.

"You didn't sleep at all? That means that you're going to be caffeinated all day. Don't forget that you're meeting Jacob later this morning. You're gonna drive him completely out of his mind."

"As long as I have somewhere to focus my energy, it's fine. He'll be fine. I promise."

"You're already giving me a headache, and I actually like you."

"Or I could take it all back," Alice mused, with her hand poised halfway in the closet, frozen in the act of hanging up a skirt..

"Oh, Alice. You know I'm hopeless without you."

"Yeeees. I do."

"Shut up," Bella laughed, burying her face in her mattress. "I have to tell you about last night."

"With that preamble, I know it was either really good, or really bad," Alice commented as she climbed onto the bed beside her friend.

"Both. I hung out with Edward's mom, Esme, last night after work. She took me bowling."

"You hate bowling."

"I don't hate it. I'm just no good at it," Bella corrected her.

"And. . ."

"Esme hustled these two guys. I'm not even exaggerating. She played up this old biddy character for an entire game, then tricked them into betting on the outcome of the next game. As soon as we started the second game, she was bowling strikes like every single time. You should have seen these guys. One of them was a cocky jerk named Xander. When they won the first game, he was preening. Then, when he realized he got played, he turned into a twitchy, sweaty mess. I felt so bad for him. His ego was shattered."

"Sounds like he deserved it."

"Oh, he did. I was just blown away by her. She's gutsy. And hilarious. I hope you get to meet her. Of course, if the truth about me and Edward ever comes out, I doubt she'll ever want to talk to me again." Bella's voice turned despondent. "She's already worried about him. The other day, she was telling Emmett that Edward's been acting strangely for the last several days. Do you know how hard it is to sit there pretending you have no idea what the people around you are talking about when you know ten times more than them? And, to top it off, you know you're the one at fault? I feel like a hypocrite and an asshole."

"You're neither one of those. Give yourself a break, Bella. You're just overwhelmed. Esme sounds wonderful. I wish I could have seen that," Alice giggled. "So, if that's the good part, what's the bad part?"

"When I got home, Mike was waiting on the steps downstairs."

"Do you need help hiding the body?" Alice raised both eyebrows expectantly.

"Tempting, but no. He came by because he wanted the ring back so he can exchange it for a new one," Bella answered, wincing in anticipation of Alice's response.

"Doesn't he have any class?" Her voice rose in pitch and volume. "You know what? I'm enlisting your help to dispose of the body."

"We're not offing him, Alice," Bella laughed. "Although I am still shaking my head at the whole thing."

"What did you do?"

"I gave it to him, of course. I mean, what was I going to do with it? Looking at it made me want to drink myself into oblivion half the time and murder him the other half. Besides, he was right about a lot of things. He said we were both settling. I still want to strangle him for not telling me sooner. I wasted so much of my life with him! And so much money trying to patch up the rough spots when things got rocky."

"Are things better?" Alice asked in a serious tone.

Bella thought for a moment before replying. "They're getting there. But if I don't hurry up, I'm going to be late for work," she finished in a rush when she saw the time on her clock. Bella hopped off the bed and ran into the bathroom.

"I'll get the coffee started," Alice called through the locked door. "Wear the purple dress I made last winter with the gray double-breasted jacket. And the black boots."

"Boots? To work?"

"Classy, sexy, fun. It works. Now, get going!"

Forty minutes later, Alice dropped Bella off at the loading zone in front of the McCarthy building. She had borrowed her father's car to transport Bella's wardrobe additions and needed to return it so he could make it to a doctor's appointment. Bella blew her a kiss and scurried into the lobby to get out of the cold.

"Hold the elevator," a familiar voice called.

"Esme," Bella greeted her with a grin.

"Look at you! I love those boots. Very cute."

"Thanks. Alice seems to be on the same mental wavelength as you. She's pushing me to loosen up and have a little fun with my fashion decisions. I'm trying, but I actually feel a little awkward coming into the office like this."

"I really have to meet this girl," Esme laughed. "And don't worry. You look incredible. If I were twenty years younger I would steal those boots right off your feet."

They were both laughing as they exited the elevator on Emmett's floor and checked in with Mandy.

"Mr. McCarthy called a few minutes ago. He's running a little behind schedule. He said to start without him. The files are on the shared drive."

"Is everything okay?" Bella asked, concerned that there might be something wrong with Rosalie or the baby.

"Everything's fine. He was just dropping off his car at the body shop."

"That's right. I forgot about the accident. We'll set up in his office, if that's okay."

"Absolutely," Mandy smiled over her glasses and waved them through.

Bella and Esme pulled up the documents Mandy had prepared for them and began their project-by-project recap, updating their notes with the progress that had been made that week, along with their goals for the next two weeks.

"We really aren't going to accomplish much over the holidays, are we?" Bella asked, disappointed that so many city offices were closed or under-staffed.

"It happens every year. You get used to it. Think of it as a mandatory vacation. We'll ramp up so fast after the New Year that you'll wish you'd had more of a respite, I promise."

Inside her own head, Bella disagreed. But then she remembered her house-hunting plans and decided that a slower period might be nice after all. Checking out condos would be a welcome distraction as she counted down the days to Edward's arrival. Ten days. . . it simultaneously felt too soon and not soon enough.

Emmett joined them a few minutes later, and they quickly brought him up to speed. When they reached the final property, he took a deep breath, stretched his arms wide and yawned. "What do you need me for? This looks great. I feel like I'm drafting in the back of the pack."

"Just keep signing the checks," Esme replied cheekily.

"Yes, ma'am."

"How's Rosalie?" Bella asked.

"She was still asleep when I left. She's having trouble getting to sleep at night, then she's exhausted all morning. She says it's because she doesn't get enough activity. I think I'm going to be here in the mornings and stick close to home in the afternoons. I'm buying a wheelchair so we can go on walks. I want her to be able to get some fresh air without breaking the rules or tiring her out too much."

"That's very thoughtful," Esme said. "When my sister was put on bedrest with Edward, the inactivity took its toll. Most people don't realize, but bedrest is emotionally taxing."

Bella sat up straight in her chair, caught off guard and confused. Neither Esme nor Emmett took notice. They were engrossed in their conversation.

"Especially when your name is Rosalie," Emmett laughed. "Even so, call me any time," he added, patting the phone on his belt. "Even if I'm not in the building, I'm ready to help."

"We will," Bella smiled, wondering if Rosalie would be able to answer her questions about Edward's family history. Surely she had known him almost as long as Emmett. Bella was hungry for information about Edward, but didn't know how to ask without making a fool of herself. "Emmett, I'm shopping for a condo. Alice is going to help me hunt for the actual property, but maybe Rosalie can help with online research and picking out furnishings." Perhaps Rosalie could be persuaded to talk about her husband's friend in between picking out lamps and bookcases.

"Be careful. She loves Pottery Barn. You might find yourself taking out a line of credit just to furnish your bedroom," he warned her with a chuckle.

"But she also loves to haggle. If I turn her loose on Craigslist and eBay, she'll be able to take her cabin fever out on complete strangers."

"I'm liking the sounds of this plan. Okay, ladies, I've got to kick you out. I've got an investor cooling his heels in the lobby."

"Bye, darling. I'll see you tomorrow at 9 for breakfast," Esme said, squeezing his hand as she stood to go.

Bella waved to Emmett and followed Esme out. "So you're flying out this weekend?"

"Early Sunday morning. We're having a few of Carlisle's colleagues over for dinner that night. A little pre-Christmas cheer."

"You don't sound too cheerful or excited," Bella observed.

"Well. . . They aren't exactly a fun-loving crowd. Too serious. It's dreary. Last night now. . . that was a good time."

"So you aren't going to be serving onion rings and burgers?" Bella giggled.

"Hmm. Now there's an idea. I would love to see Jane's face if I handed her a platter of fried food. She always has a pinched and puckered look about her. A bit of grease might be just what she needs."

"You're absolutely devious."

"I'm absolutely charming. . . when I have to be," Esme said archly, and pushed the down arrow. "Now, this friend of yours at DPD, what's his name again?"

"Brett Low. Great guy, total sweetheart. His wife is a branch manager at a local bank. It's so cute. They have these matching candy dishes on their reception counters. They've had an ongoing competition since they started dating to see who could give away more candy. Believe it or not, contractors and developers eat way more candy than bank patrons and their kids. Almost two to one."

"If she's always losing, why do they keep competing?"

"Well. . . The loser has to go on a date with the winner. That's how he got her to go out with him the first time."

"Okay. I have to agree. That is very sweet," Esme said. "I'm guessing you help him win. What's your favorite candy?"

"Butterscotch," Bella responded instantly.

"I knew somebody had to eat those things, otherwise why would they sell them? I'm a peppermint girl."

"Yes you are," Bella laughed, stepping out into the lobby.

"And what exactly was that supposed to mean, young lady?"

"Oh, Esme. . . you know exactly what I meant," Bella teased, holding the door open for the older women to pass in front of her. Esme just scowled.

They walked several blocks south along 5th Avenue until they reached the municipal building, sitting in the shadow of the Columbia Tower. Bella pointed out her apartment building near the top of the hill as they passed University Street. She described the history of some of the buildings they passed, including two projects she had been involved in during her internship. Esme absorbed it all, matching the brick and mortar reality to the map table mock up. Her eyes were shining with childlike enthusiasm by the time they reached their destination.

"Phew. These boots were not made for walking," Bella sighed as they rode up to the 20th floor.

"We could have driven," Esme said, concern creasing her brow.

"It's fine. I shouldn't complain, really. Besides, walking is faster than driving a lot of the time when you take into account lights, one-way streets and parking."

"I'm happy to schedule a cab to take us back. We'll get lunch after this and be lazy for an hour."

"More of your 'have fun and unwind' mantra?"

"You have so much still to learn," Esme said with a wink.

Their consultation with Brett went quickly, and they decided on a restaurant just a block away from McCarthy. When the cab dropped them in front of the Palamino restaurant, Bella was grateful. They had only walked three quarters of a mile earlier, but her feet were sore. The hostess got them settled in a booth with menus and ice water.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom. I'll be right back," Bella said.

As she washed her hands, Bella checked over her reflection. The gray jacket was long in the arms and short in the torso, stopping just below her ribs. With the fuller skirt, it made her waist look tiny. And the boots, as uncomfortable as they were to walk long distances in, really did give her a sassy, no-nonsense look. There was color in her cheeks, and her hair, still damp from the winter drizzle, escaped in wild tendrils from her hair clip. Bella released the barrette and shook her head, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders.

"Who are you?" Bella asked, in a whisper.

She didn't have it together, not the way she used to. Not the way she did while she was with Mike. Her life was unrecognizable from two weeks earlier, but not everything about the transformation was bad. She didn't know the girl in the mirror, and that was a little bit scary. However, she was fascinated by her. She wanted to get to know her.

This new Bella could drink and go bowling on a work night. She could ditch her suit for a day and strut down the sidewalk in high-heeled boots. She could let her hair down and not give a shit about what people thought. . . Who knew what else she might do? Maybe she had the courage to call Edward Masen and tell him the truth.

Esme was on her cell phone when Bella sat back down. She picked up the lunch menu and told herself to choose something unique, something that would normally make her uncomfortable. Esme had already ordered glasses of white wine for both of them. Bella usually avoided seafood because of the strong flavors, so the clam linguine was perfect. Adventurous without being too scary.

"No, I'm not at the office. I'm having lunch with a friend," Esme was saying. She rolled her eyes toward her phone and smirked. Bella giggled quietly, munching on a piece of bread between sips of wine.

"I don't know. It has a horse on it."

"Palamino," Bella provided. "Italian."

"The Palamino. It's an Italian restaurant." Esme gave a long-suffering sigh. "Of course I'll tell you how it is. Although why you can't just read the reviews online, I don't know. Yes. . . of course. I love you, too. See you in a couple days." Esme hung up, shaking her head. "Men. Always asking questions."

Bella laughed along with her. Esme was everything she had always wanted in an older sister or an aunt. She was charming but irreverent. Beautiful and classy, but gave the impression that she would be just as comfortable in sneakers as pumps.

When she had first read Esme Platt Cullen's resume, Bella had been intimidated. Now, she felt almost as comfortable in Esme's presence as she did with Rosalie and Alice. Esme possessed a special gift, a nurturing, playful, wonderful gift. Once they had placed their orders, Bella gathered her courage to ask Esme about her earlier comments in Emmett's office.

"Well, spit it out."

"What?" Bella started guiltily.

"Something is on your mind. What's bothering you?" Esme prodded kindly.

"Nothing's wrong, I was just confused about something you said earlier. About your sister and your son, Edward."

"It's no secret, darling. I couldn't have children. Carlisle and I tried, but fertility treatments thirty years ago were nowhere close to as advanced as they are today. Even with modern science, I don't know if there would have been anything they could do for me. I got pregnant once, but I lost him. For twenty three weeks I held him close to my heart, but he wasn't meant for this world."

Esme took a slow sip of wine before continuing. "Carlisle's best friend, Edward, was a neat guy. A bit intense, but kind-hearted and very intelligent. He met my sister at a hospital social event. Elizabeth was tagging along because our parents were worried that she was never going to meet anybody. She was always in her studio, drawing and painting. She never wanted to leave the house. It scared them. When Elizabeth met Edward, she became a completely different person. He gave her life focus and meaning. She discovered a true passion for easing the suffering of mankind. Edward Masen was a good man. Such a good man. I couldn't have asked for a better friend for my husband, or partner for my little sister."

"After he graduated from medical school, Edward traveled to Africa with a team of medical professionals every year providing care to people living in underserved and isolated villages. When they got married, Elizabeth went with him. The year she got pregnant with Edward was so difficult for her. Edward refused to allow her to join him on his annual trip. It was too dangerous, and she was already having a difficult pregnancy. Cramping, bleeding, anemia. Her doctors ordered her to stay in bed. She fought them at first. She was so strong spirited, as fiery as her hair. But, knowing of my loss, she finally caved. For weeks and weeks she did nothing but draw. She drew our family members, Edward, the children and parents she had nursed on their previous trips. She filled almost a dozen sketchbooks. I still have them. Every one.

"Edward returned less than a week before the baby came. He was exhausted and heartbroken. It had been a terrible trip. A doctor can only do so much to counteract the effects of chronic starvation. Without food, and with contaminated water sources, the physicians and nurses on that expedition had been forced to set bones they knew would never heal, prescribe dietary improvements that the villagers could never fill, and help dozens of women deliver babies, only to watch them weaken and die for lack of milk.

"That trip changed him. Edward vowed not to return unless he could fund his own trip, bringing in supplies to assist the villagers and establish real stability and independence in the communities they visited. Food is medicine, he said. Without the right equipment, dependable water sources and knowledge, food would always be the problem. For five years, Elizabeth and Edward lived with us, and we all took turns staying home with little Edward. He could so easily have turned into a spoiled brat, but he never did. He was an old soul. A trusting, loving, sweet boy. And I treasured him.

"Elizabeth shared him selflessly. I don't know. . . maybe she knew. Maybe she saw the future. All I know is that the day he became mine was both the best and the worst day of my existence. Edward had just turned five years old. Elizabeth gave him his very own set of charcoal pencils for his birthday. I watched her teach him how to add shadows to an image to bring it to life. That boy picked it up as naturally as breathing. I remember Edward teasing her about it, asking if he should give the boy one of his stethoscopes to make it fair. She retorted that he had already saddled their son with his name, the least they could do was offer him one outlet for self-expression."

Esme was smiling at the memory, but there were tears in her eyes. She thanked their waiter as he set out their plates and refilled their glasses.

"A few months earlier, Edward and Elizabeth had finally reached their fundraising goal. Five years of scrimping and saving, soliciting donations from colleagues and neighbors. They recruited another orthopedic surgeon, a plastic surgeon, several nurses, aides, a dietician, translators, an entire team of professionals whose hearts were too big to live fat and happy in America while children starved and died from infections and treatable injuries.

"Little Edward, he was so cute. He wanted to go, too. Since he couldn't make the trip, he insisted on helping his way. His kindergarten class put together their own donations of books, paper, crayons, pencils and toys for the team to distribute. We saw them off at the airport, so excited for what they were doing. It was a victorious, exuberant day. I sometimes wonder if I would have said anything else to my little sister before she got on that plane. If I'd known. Her last words to me were, "Take care of our boy." We hugged, one big, crazy bundle of arms and legs. She kissed his forehead three times, just like she did every night when she tucked him in. Three kisses, and she was gone forever."

Esme smiled wistfully. "We received the news eight weeks later. Influenza. A virulent strain to which the team had almost zero resistance. It decimated the encampment. Out of 23 people, 20 got sick, and nine died. When Edward passed away, Elizabeth was already delirious with fever. She followed him that same day. They had taken every precaution before their departure, updating their wills, assigning us as their son's guardians, even purchasing several life insurance policies, naming him as their beneficiary. Maybe they knew how it would end, if not that trip, then another, however many years down the line. I can't even be angry at them. They had witnessed such suffering, they couldn't ignore it. And they gave me Edward. I will always be grateful for that."

Bella wiped her eyes, grieving along with her friend, finally understanding how Edward, a complete stranger, could empathize with her so perfectly over the loss of her own mother. Alice and Edward, two children who had grown up as adoptees. She had formed an instantaneous bond with both of them, as if their souls, existing outside of time, recognized that pain and loss in one another and sought to heal it.

For the thousandth time, Bella thought back to her actions with regret. Why had she let things go so far, so fast? If she hadn't slept with Edward in Chicago, she would have been sitting across from him right now. Working alongside him. Getting to know him. She picked at her food, biting her lip pensively.

"I'm sorry. That's awfully heavy fare for lunch."

"Esme, please don't apologize. I asked, for one thing. Thank you for sharing your memories with me. I feel. . . I feel as if I know Edward already. Hearing about him from you and Emmett, I'm looking forward to working with him. He sounds like an amazing person."

"He i-" Esme paused, a look of surprise on her face. "You little scamp!" she cried, looking over Bella's right shoulder.

Bella turned to see who she was talking to, and time stopped.

We all know that Bella HATES surprises...