Chapter 32: Time

Remington sat in Laura's desk chair with his elbow pressed against the armrest and his chin braced on his fist. As he'd predicted, the ringing of the phone had heralded the end of any hope catching a few winks with his wife. Laura had been pacing the floor, mulling aloud the possible implications of the phone call for the several minutes that had passed while waiting for the arrival of emails Murphy had promised to send as soon as he hung up the phone.

The Colonel, it seemed, had been on a mission to uncover everything there was to know about his son – a mission that had begun around the time Laura and Remington had paid him a visit some eight years previously. And the man, from what Murphy had shared, had been thorough – very thorough – befitting of a man who'd risen high within the ranks of the United States Army. Presumably using his decades of connections, the Colonel had obtained unredacted files of Roselli's brief, if deadly, career in the Army, then the MI5 and INS. The Colonel had meticulously traced his son's movement from 1971 until his imprisonment in Greece in 1987, leaving no rock unturned: He'd interviewed men who had served with Roselli at each base he'd been stationed, as well as agents he'd worked, partnered with and had led during the course of his work as spy and immigration official. And the Colonel hadn't stopped there – not by a long shot. According to Murph the Colonel had collected unsolved missing person and murder cases spanning the time Roselli had spent in cities and countries worldwide; he'd gathered together a list of Roselli's known haunts in those same places; any tangible property owned; records of where he'd resided during his travels; a list of the extensive aliases he'd used; and, a thorough account of assets Roselli had stashed should he need to go underground quick.

If Murphy's findings weren't exaggerated – which was unlikely given they were speaking of the salt-of-the-earth Michaels – then the Colonel had done the very thorough groundwork that only the night before she'd chiding herself for not doing when Remington and she were on the trail of the 'why' Roselli had targeted them.

Crossing the office to a cabinet, Laura pulled out a new ream of printer paper and set it next to the new ink jet printer Remington had come home with a couple of months earlier.

"What is your problem?" she demanded to know, growing irritated by his unhidden sulk. "If anything, I'd think you'd be thrilled!" Thrilled that an eagerly anticipated afternoon had been annihilated by, in a roundabout manner, Roselli? Hardly.

"Has it occurred to you that much as I'd like to see the bugger caught and sequestered safely behind bars, I might wish even more for a bit of alone time with you?" he suggested, crossing his arms, clearly vexed. "When was the last time you and I spent time with one another? Hmmmm?" Her brows knitted together, miffed by the charge.

"I seem to recall an interlude just this morning or was that with another man whom I just imagined to be you?" It was a cheap shot and she knew it, but short on sleep and with a plate brimming over, the last thing she was in the mood for was a grown man in a full pout because he was missing an afternoon nap. She flinched when his palm crashed down on the desk top and he surged to his feet, his face a mask of fury and insult.

"Another—" he sputtered, then pointed an accusatory finger at her. "I'm going to do my best to forget you said that," he seethed. "I'm not speaking about sex, Laura. I'm speaking about you and I, nurturing our personal relationship, catching up, simply spending a bit of quality time together! When was the last time we carved out more than a few minutes before we sleep or in the car while working a case? Eh? How long's it been, Laura, or have you even taken notice?"

"It's been a couple of weeks. So what?!" She threw her hands out, emphasizing her point. "That's not a reflection of us, but fallout from all that's going on around us!"

"Going on six weeks, Laura! Six!" he shouted. Chest rising and falling rapidly, he forced himself to lower his voice. "I expected you to shut me out a bit while you tried to work things through, understood it even, for whether or not I care for this particular habit of yours, I long ago accepted it as part of who you are. But when I am reduced to negotiating a bit of time alone with my wife and once again find myself tossed to the curb—"

"For God's sake, Remington, it was a nap not—"

"It's not the nap, Laura!" he insisted. "I needed a bit of time with you – Not just wanted, but needed. I have sat back patiently for weeks now, giving you the time and space you need to work through things, taking care not to ask questions or to put any further pressure upon you. But the one time – the one time – I dare to seek you out for a bit normalcy so that I might reassure myself all is fine and well and I find, once again, I am nowhere on your list of priorities!"

Her lips parted to contest the charges but she swiftly closed them and shifted on her feet uncomfortably. He wasn't wrong. She might not particularly care for the manner he chose to deliver the message, but it didn't make the content ring any less true. He'd stepped back and allowed her to work through her father's reemergence on her own, while still being there for her when she needed him, in whatever form that need might take – even if that meant taking herself away from him, to spend time with her thoughts, which she'd frequently done over the weeks. Roselli's escape had certainly caused more complications, demanding even more of her attention. Sophie's regression due directly to the measures they'd put into play for the children's safety was aiding in their current state of sleep deprivation, but also meant they'd been sharing a very crowded bed these last nights. Their case load had been heavier than normal the last two months and on top of that, she'd made the decision to expand the Agency again in the midst of it all.

And thus far, he hadn't even blinked.

Unknowingly, she scrunched her face, as guilt washed over her. She'd been taking him for granted and had missed a couple of very important clues along the way. Even sleep deprived, Remington was rarely short of temper, yet twice now in as many days, he'd put on a spectacular display of it. She'd quickly written the first off to his worry over Roselli's escape, and even now she understood that played a part. But much as he'd realized long ago that she required space to work things out, she'd recognized the ground under his feet tended to shift and sway when deprived of his connection to her. She'd missed another very large clue this morning, when he'd 'negotiated' that time with her: He needed her steadying presence so his feet could find firm ground again. He had, as he'd accused, fallen to the bottom of her priority list, intentionally so or not.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized, holding up a hand and sinking back down into the desk chair wearily. She blinked, wondering how long she'd been lost in thought to elicit an apology.

"You're right," she lifted and dropped her hands in concession. "You've made it very easy on me these last weeks to focus on everything going on around us, to the exclusion of yourself." She leaned across the desk and pressed the power button to the monitor.

"What are you doing?" he asked before he could give the question much thought. He still wasn't certain there wasn't a 'but' coming that would be shortly followed by a blistering lecture.

"By my calculations, we still have an hour-and-a-half, maybe two, if we're lucky," she said with a jaunty lift of her brow and an outstretched hand, "Although I'd like to alter the plan slightly." Standing, he took her hand. "You, me, the sofa and Casablanca on the television," she suggested. He couldn't have been more pleased. Stopping, he tugged her around and gathered her in his arms.

"Thank you," he murmured dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She pressed her lips against his neck, then wrapped her arms around it.

"I may have a lot on my mind, but it doesn't mean I don't miss our time together, too." He closed his eyes and let those words sink in…

Remington frowned and dragged open his eyes when, in his sleep, he recognized a heavy hand lying against his shoulder. He found himself looking up at his father.

"Son, the children have eaten and are upstairs preparing for this evening's festivities," Thomas informed him quietly, "I've plates waiting on Laura and yourself. You've little more than a half hour before you need to leave."

"Th—" Remington cleared his throat and tried again. "Thank you," he replied, his hand already moving towards Laura's shoulder to wake her. He looked down to find she'd turned her head and was blinking up at the ceiling trying to clear her head of the cobwebs brought by deep sleep. They rose to sitting positions in unison, him scrubbing his hands over his face. "Did we have a delivery, by chance."

"You did," Thomas confirmed. "Someone will be round on the morrow for you to sign the delivery slip, should everything suit your liking." Remington shoved to his feet, and held out a hand to Laura.

"Which first? Freshen up, the surprise or our meal?"

"Freshen up, meal, surprise," she ticked off, as she took his hand and stood.

They reemerged in the dining room dressed for the evening. Remington was dressed as a gangster, straight out of the Roaring Twenties, in his pinstriped suit with black dress shirt and white tie. He hadn't shaved that morning, and his whiskered face coupled with his slicked back hair and the black fedora he dropped on the coffee table completed the picture. Laura's eyes ran appreciatively over him as he held out her chair. Yum. She'd never been able to resist the man when he sported a day's beard growth. If either of us can stay awake tonight, he may get lucky for the second time today, she mused.

Laura wore a red sheer silk chiffon and metallic gold lace dress over a lame based underslip. The dress with its plunging neckline and playful tiered, scalloped skirt that ended just above midthigh, was lavishly embellished with gold tone deco beadwork and micro-sequins. She'd rounded out the flapper outfit with a rhinestone headband that crossed over her forehead and was adorned on one side with a trio of red feathers clipped to the band with a rhinestone flower. The dress positively bordered on criminal, he decreed silently as he took his seat across from her. He'd spend half the night trying to keep his hands off her and the other half of the night staring down business associates who dared to admire her assets for too long a time.

They enjoyed a quick meal of Chicken Florentine, green salad and warmed French bread, before the children clattered down the stairs, chattering with anticipation over the upcoming party.

"Ah, a thaisce, a lovelier princess there never was," Remington complimented. Sophie wore a dress of sparkling pink tulle accessorized by a tall gold crown, and in her hand she held a long, gold wand topped with silver star.

"I'm not a princess, Da, remember?" Remington and Laura had both been present when the children had selected their costumes. "I'm Glinda the Good Witch."

"Ahhh, yes, Wizard of Oz. It had completely slipped my mind, but what a beautiful good witch you make."

"Good Lord, who let this bad witch in the house, and where is my other granddaughter?" Thomas joined in. Livvie and Sophie broke out it giggles.

"It's me, Granddad! It's me, Olivia!" she declared, dancing on her tiptoes. Thomas bent down, examining her closely. Garbed in a flowing black witches costume, black hat, and face slathered with green pancake makeup, a pair of bright blue eyes still shone through all the adornment.

"Why, so it is. You'll surely be scaring all the ghosts and goblins away this evening, looking as you do." His comment brought another round of laughter from her.

"What about me, Granddad?" Holt asked, leaning back to look up at his tall grandfather with hopeful eyes.

"Why, I do believe it's Michelangelo." Holt grinned wide at having been so quickly identified, while Remington did a double take. "You make a fine ninja turtle, my boy."

"How is that my father knows of these turtles, but I've still no idea exactly what they are?" Remington wondered aloud.

"Oh, my grandson and I have been known to enjoy and episode or two of The Teenage Mutant Turtles together when Catherine and I swoop in and relieve Mia of her duties for an afternoon." The idea amused Remington and a crooked smile lit his face.

"I imagine The Daily Mail would have a field day, were they to discover Marquess Westmoreland, in line for the British throne, enjoys an afternoon watching cartoons?" he mused aloud.

"Mommy?" Holt called to Laura, in a suddenly miserable sounding voice. "I have to go." Badly, Laura quickly assessed, given the way her young son was squeezing his legs together. In two long strides, she reached him and lifted him up, carrying him towards the downstairs bathroom.

"Holt, did I not just inquire if you needed to use the loo?" Lina scolded lightly. Holt had gone so far as to cross his heart that he didn't have to go before she'd wiggled then tied him into the turtle costume.

"I didn't have to go, then," he proclaimed his innocence over Laura's shoulder before they disappeared down the hallway.

In gesture learned from her sister-in-law, Lina rolled her eyes heavenward and held out her hands to her sides, as though asking the heavens for an answer to her question. Honestly, with a baker's dozen plus one of nieces and nephews, it never failed that someone would have to use the loo only minutes after declaring they had no need. Shops all over Oia had long grown used to her dashing through the store with a child, no longer even bothering to ask if they might use the private facilities, it had become so common.

"Alright, my little witches," he paused for another round of tittering, "Do you have everything you need? Your book of spells? Your toads?"

"Ewwwwwwwwww," the girls said in unison.

"We don't like toads," Sophie informed her father.

"They're slimy," Olivia explained, her nose crinkled with distaste.

"And we don't want warts!" Sophie emphasized.

"Oh, no!" Livvie cried out in dismay. "I forgot my broom." Spinning on her heel, she began to run towards the stairs.

"I have it right here, my darling girl," Catherine called, halting Livvie in her tracks at the base of the stairs. She ran back across the room to the sofa where her grandmother held out the straw broom.

"No running in the house, Olivia Elena," Laura admonished as she returned to the room. Livvie crinkled her nose. When Mommy used two of her names, it was a warning that they'd spoken about a rule before, and the next time there would be a stern lecture. She sighed heavily. She didn't like lectures. You had to sit still and pay attention, and that was so hard – to stay still and pay attention all that time. Harder than remembering not to run in the house when you forgot something, she judged.

"Yes, Mommy. Sorry, Mommy," Livvie replied obediently.

"Our Ninja Turtle is ready to go. Girls?"

Livvie took off for the front hallway in a sprint…

"O-liv—"

And skidded to a halt before her mother could utter her full name.

"Sorry, Mommy," she apologized, making it a point to walk slowly towards the front door. By time she turned the corner into the hallway, she couldn't contain her joy a second longer, and she ran as fast as she could to the front door… Where she sighed heavily and turned to look in the direction of the family room. Waiting for others to catch up was hard, too.

"We'll walk out with you," Catherine announced to Laura and Remington, "Fred should be along any minute, if he's not already waiting on us."

"I'll help the children into the car with their costumes," Lina volunteered.

It didn't occur to Laura this behavior was odd – the three adults escorting them from their own home – until the front door swung open and she saw what had been the incentive for this unprecedented behavior.

She stared ahead, dumbfounded.

"What's the occasion?" she wondered aloud, as she stepped onto the driveway and began circling the bright red Jeep Wrangler soft top with black trim and tan leather interior. He tugged at an ear.

"I realized a couple days ago we'd no need for the Explorers any longer, given the girls have outgrown their car seats, and Holt uses the much smaller variety now. I thought perhaps now would be a good time to restore what was lost to you." Her Jeep had been totaled when they'd been run off the road on Gabriel Castoro's orders. Pregnant with Holt and having already decided they wished Sophie to be a permanent part of their family, it had been necessary to replace the Jeep with a vehicle that could hold three car seats.

"How very practical of you," she drawled. With a grin, he stepped closer.

"Failed to dazzle you with romance, hmmm?" He scratched his chin and considered. "It's an anniversary gift, of sorts, then." Lifting herself into the driver's seat, she inspected the dashboard. All the bells and whistles were there, or course, right down to the custom Pioneer stereo system.

"What anniversary is that? We've already celebrated the anniversary of you appearing in my life," she reminded.

"Well, ummmm," he quickly sorted through the options offered up by their history, "Of the first time we kissed, of course," he grinned with a waggle of his brows. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she rolled her eyes as she lowered herself to the ground. A little sleep, a little connection and his mood had bettered exponentially, she noted.

"It must have been some kiss," Lina commented, climbing up into the Jeep to look around. Laura laughed and wagged her finger at her sister-in-law.

"Don't encourage him," she scolded, playfully. "Xenos has no more idea of when we kissed the first time than I do." She turned her attention back to her husband.

"Dare I ask about this?" She drew a finger over the glossy black paint on the trunk of a second vehicle.

"Laura, please," he grimaced, "The paint job." He whipped the handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed off the streak left in the wake of her finger. "This little beauty is a classic: A 1968 Shelby GT350 in mint condition." He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back to admire the car. "Less than eleven hundred were ever produced and only six of those were finished with raven black paint and a black interior. She has been in the hands of a single owner, who treated her better than he did his own children – at least according to the children, who sold it to me for a song."

"I'm afraid to ask what song that might be: The Beatles's Her Majesty or Iron Butterfly's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida," she mused aloud. "I wasn't aware it was tradition to buy yourself an 'anniversary present'."

"I like to think of it more as a reward for a job well-done," he informed her, with a cheeky grin on his face.

"And what job might that be?" she laughed. He ducked his head down to speak next to her ear.

"For persevering until I won the right to kiss you anytime I like." Yes, his mood was infinitely better, his charm working full-force.

"Nice try," she retorted, drily with a lift of her brows. "Would you like to try again?"

"This car was my first true love," he shrugged. "Unlike most lads, I didn't have pinup posters of Raquel Welch or Sharon Tate pinned to my walls at Daniel's place, wherever that might be from day-to-day. On my wall there was a picture of this car that I'd torn from a magazine and I vowed one day it would be mine." She walked around the car, admiring it.

"So, you'd never seen or driven one?" she wondered.

"Not once," he confirmed. "But how could one not appreciate the power hinted at by its sleek lines and sharp angles?" A smile played over her lips. Much like the way he dressed, spoke and the movies he preferred, the man was drawn to cars of another time.

"And the Explorers?" she wondered as she opened a door and slid into the driver seat to look around.

"With the upcoming expansion I thought we'd retitle one to the Agency for use," he shared. Her keen mind focused on what he hadn't said.

"And the other?" she prompted. He tugged at that ear again.

"I thought it might be put to better use elsewhere?" he suggested. Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head slightly to the side.

"And where might that elsewhere be?" He cleared his throat and looked around for Lina, who was still seated in the Jeep, fiddling with the stereo.

"Uh, Lina. Would you happen to know if Selena possesses a driver's license?" he called. The question drew her from the Jeep, curiosity lighting her eyes.

"She does. We took a photocopy according to our procedures." He nodded, while stroking his chin.

"Yet, she had no vehicle at her home," he observed. Lina nodded, while Laura watched the interchange with interest.

"Her scoundrel of a husband sold it shortly before their last child was born," she confirmed, disgust painting her words. "He needed the money for… other things, his family bedamned," she provided, her eyes flashing with her irritation at the man's selfishness.

"I see," he replied thoughtfully, glancing to Laura. She nodded her head with approval. For all his shortcomings, the man was more than generous when his path crossed with someone in need of a hand up to find a better perch in life. "Whose?" he inquired simply.

"Yours, I think. It has considerably less miles on it than mine," she advised.

"If you and Jacoby would be so kind as to deliver my SUV to Selena when he returns on Tuesday, it would be most appreciated." He mimicked Lina's sudden frown. "What? What is it?"

"This, she will not accept. Selena is a proud woman. It is one thing to accept a home where your children will be safe and can flourish, quite another to accept something she has done without for so long," she assessed.

"Is that all? Then tell her it is a reward for the information that led to the recovery of the money stolen from CashNow," he suggested, smoothly. "Surely she can't refuse something she earned." Lina's frown deepened while she considered the idea. Several moments passed before she nodded once and her face brightened.

"This I believe she will accept," she assessed with some confidence. Pressing up on her tiptoes, she bussed him on the cheek. "It is times like these when I am most proud to call you my brother," she complimented. He barked a laugh.

"Inferring there are times you are not so proud?" he teased. Lina merely sniffed, flashed him a sly smile before walking over to Laura to give her a hug of appreciation. Clapping his hands, he rubbed them together as he faced the children, who were still uncertain why these two strange vehicles were parked in their driveway. "Children, which is it to be this evening?" he addressed the trio. "The… Jeep," he indicated with a nod of his hair, inserting a snobbish disapproval into his voice, "Or this magnificent piece of machinery," he extended his arm to towards the car with a wide smile, hoping to sway his offspring. Livvie looked up at him with rounded eyes.

"They're ours?" she wondered.

"Well, your Mother's and mine, at least," he confirmed. "So which is to be, eh?" So confident was he in their choice that he began moving towards the driver's door of the GT350, while the girls put their heads together and whispered between them.

"I wanna go in the car," Holt proclaimed, then looked up at his father with eager eyes. "Can we go fast?" Remington smiled, then quickly corrected when he saw Laura's disapproving frown. It was one thing to push a car to its limits when it was just the two of them, but not when the children were in the vehicle. "We'll take the highway. That should be fast enough, hmmm?"

"Livvie and me like the Jeep," Sophie declared.

"Livvie and I," Laura corrected, then flashed a pair of dimples at Remington. "That's three-to-two. Looks like I'm driving." He in turn lifted a singular brow at the girls.

"The three of us," he pointed a finger at the Livvie and Sophie, "Are you going have to have a little talk about the girls always ganging up against the boys," he teased, drawing a pair of giggles from the girls, while Laura clipped across the driveway to retrieve Holt's car seat from her SUV.

"The Jeep is red," Sophie announced the obvious, as Remington hefted her up and into the backseat. Livvie nodded her head in agreement.

"Red's prettier than black," Livvie pronounced, as he lifted her into the vehicle.

"And the Jeep is high up," Sophie added, sitting down behind the driver's seat.

"And we like being high up," Livvie elaborated, taking the position behind the passenger seat.

"Because we can see the people in their cars better," Sophie finished.

"Remind me when you are driving to accompany you when purchasing a vehicle," he shook his head, eliciting another round of giggles from the girls. Laura handed Sophie the toddler booster seat, then hoisted Holt up and into the vehicle. Climbing in behind him, she turned around in her seat and watched him dutifully buckle himself in before she started the engine then turned to grin at Remington.

"Let's see what this baby can do…"

"And my party's going to be at Chuck E. Cheese and I'm getting a puppy for my birthday!" Livvie shouted over her shoulder, sharing her news with the friends behind her.

Remington and Laura smoothly took a step backward to keep from being bowled over when Sophie ran past with Kai, Damerae and Bo in hot pursuit, laughter trailing in the children's wake.

"I never promised you a puppy!," he called after her retreating form, while laying a hand on Laura's arm when her lips parted to admonish the girls for running inside… again. She cast a questioning look at him. "Let it be. They're having fun, and it's the first time in days that I've seen Sophie quite so free," he advised in an undertone. Her eyes followed to where the children were weaving their way between a pair of couples chatting before they dashed outside. He was right. Sophie's face was lit with the simple joy of childhood, the shadow of fear nowhere to be found in her bright green eyes.

"Alright," she agreed. "I could use a bit of fresh air. You?" she asked with a nod of her head towards the open back of the house. The hand he lay on the small of her back to escort her was the only answer necessary.

"You know, it occurred to me on the drive over that I might be right," he mused.

"About?" she asked, lifting a hand and smiling at the wife of one of the store managers when she waved. Remington dipped down his head to speak in an undertone.

"This could well be the anniversary of that first kiss," he shared his suspicions. In fact, he'd found himself quite amused by the idea when it occurred to him. She laughed gaily at the notion.

"It was a good line," she complimented, breezily, "There's no need to build on it." She smiled and waved to B.B. who was standing at the buffet table with Marvin where they were filling their plates. "I didn't expect to see Marvin and B.B. here."

"Mmmm," he hummed. "Marvin leant Jocelyn and Monroe a hand when they were audited six months or so ago."

"Not Mildred?" she wondered, honestly surprised given Mildred had once been an auditor for the IRS.

"She gave him a bit guidance when necessary but believed his taking lead would be invaluable experience for him."

"I see." A thought niggled at the back of her mind. Was it possible Mildred was considering retiring sooner than later?

"Now back to that kiss—"

"Laura, C'mere," Bernice called, waving from where she and Jacelyn sat in front of the fire pit, glasses of wine in their hands.

"Duty calls," she sing-songed, while plucking a glass of white wine off a passing tray. Without a look back, she abandoned Remington where he stood.

"Later, then," he called to her back, then turned to go back inside the house, heading in the direction of the game room where he was virtually guaranteed a competitive game or two of pool.

"Nice Jeep," Bernice drawled. Laura took a seat in a thick cushioned patio chair across from Bernice.

"Oh, just a little surprise from my husband," she announced, breezily. Bernice laughed.

"Still kissing up after your blow up the other day?" she ventured.

"No," she rejected. "Neither an apology has been offered, nor will one be offered in the future." She offered Jocelyn and Bernice a sly smile, "At least not until he learns a very valuable lesson." Bernice's eyes lit with a eager gleam. Laura's lessons to 'Mr. Steele' were legendary and watching him try to squirm his way out was a bit like watching a frog after it was tossed into a boiling pot of water.

"What have you done?" she demanded to know.

"Not a thing," Laura claimed, with a lift and a drop of her hand, the cunning smile still playing on her lips. "He did it all on his own. He wants to plan Livvie's birthday party? It's all his." She flipped a hand as though brushing off an inconvenience.

"You didn't!" Jocelyn exclaimed, laughter bubbling past her lips.

"Oh, but I did. Just this morning, he was introduced to Chuck E. Cheese."

"Skeezix is going to lose his mind!" Bernice exclaimed with glee. Laura gave her a conspiratorial look.

"He's already had to call back twice to change the reservations." She took a sip of her wine, then added, "And I suspect he'll have to do it a third time come Monday."

"Why? What's going to happen on Monday?" Jocelyn asked. Laura plucked at a piece of imaginary lint on her slacks.

"Oh, let's just say Mr. Steele has a bad habit of signing things put before him without first reading them through," she replied mysteriously, "Although you'd think after signing a promissory note for the Agency then allegedly losing the hand he'd bet it on, that he would have learned his lesson."

"How did they forge your signature on the promissory note so that it fooled the experts?"

"It was my signature."

"Wait a minute. Fly that by me again"

"Reuben was always in here with documents for Mr. Steele to sign. We figure one of those times he just slipped in the note."

"Who reads those things anyway, Mildred."

"Remington did that?" Jocelyn wondered, clearly taken by surprise.

"Years, ago, but yeah, he did. And he still doesn't read anything he considers 'trivial.'"

"So what's the deal with the Jeep?" Bernice interjected.

"I have no idea, to be honest," she answered truthfully. "Likely nothing more than we no longer need the Explorers. The girls are out of car seats and Holt's in a booster and since we have no intention of expanding further—"

"C'mon, give," Bernice insisted. "We both know there's no way Skeezix shows up with something with that price tag and doesn't have a line ready and waiting for you." Laura threw back her head and laughed.

"He would hate that you know him so well," she noted. She lifted and dropped her hands. "He claims it's for the anniversary of our first kiss." She rolled her eyes when Bernice gasped and Jocelyn fanned herself. "It's only a line. I saw the look on his face when I asked him what the occasion was. He punted, nothing more. Now, on to more important matters," she turned her full attention to Bernice, "Has Mildred said anything to you that might lead you to believe she's considering retirement?"

"Nothing at all." Her eyes narrowed on Laura. "Why?" Laura shrugged her shoulders.

"Just wondering, that's all," she replied, then impulsively decided to share her thoughts. "She's been taking vacations, which is not at all like her. I usually have to pry her away from the office except for bowling nights. She volunteered to take time off and play 'room Mom' in Sophie and Livvie's classroom, to keep an eye on them until Roselli's caught. Then, tonight Remington tells me she handed off your…" she looked at Jocelyn "…audit off to Marvin. That's not like her." Bernice flicked a hand.

"You're worrying about nothing," she assured. "Mildred's not going to retire a day before she's seventy."

"That's exactly why I'm asking," Laura retorted. "She'll be sixty-nine next month."

"Nuh-uh," Bernice denied. "She told me she was fifty-eight, but I had her pegged at sixty, sixty one." Laura grinned.

"If she's fifty-eight she's aged precisely three years in the eleven years she's worked for us and even then when she started with us, she claimed to be a few years younger than she actually was." She frowned. "Incidentally, she said something to me the other day that I would love your take on."

"Go for it. What'd she say?"

"Something along the lines of that Remington has made peace with his past and is no longer afraid of it coming back to haunt him." Bernice took a couple sips of wine while she mulled the thought then shrugged a shoulder.

"I hadn't really thought about it before, but, yeah, I think she's right."

"How is that even possible?" Laura protested. "How has he made his peace with the past when I'm still waiting every day for it to show up on our doorstep and take him away? Alright, Thomas saw to it that Michael O'Leary, Paul Fabrini, Richard Blaine and all the rest of his identities have had their slates wiped clean. Maybe Scotland Yard or Interpol or whatever other law enforcement agency out there aren't looking or him, but he's made some enemies along the way. What if he inadvertently crosses one of their paths while we're traveling in Europe or one of those adversaries should happen to show up in LA?" She turned to face Jocelyn again. "Do you ever worry about Monroe's past coming back to haunt him?"

"No, not really," Jocelyn replied. "It's been a decade since he left 'the life' behind, and if someone has shown up, it would be news to me."

"C'mon, Laura, I really think you're worrying over nothing," Bernice stepped in to reason, "I mean its been almost eight years since—"

"Four," Laura quickly corrected. "Felicia? Right after Holt was born? Remember?"

"Even so, I think you're just letting the news about Roselli get to you," Bernice hypothesized.

"Could you blame me if that were the case?" Laura challenged, passionately. "The only thing that scares me more than his past is the past of Remington Steele. He's been framed for murder and nearly murdered by a man from my past, when I was the mythical Remington Steele. It could happen again. And how many enemies have we collected since he became Remington Steele? How many of those who haven't tried already are still looking to collect on a debt?" She paused and after emptying her glass of wine, reached for her brow to knead it. "Sophie's been waking every night screaming in terror, since we assigned Tank and Dozer to watch after the children. She's convinced 'the bad man' is there in the room with her and even as I'm comforting her, I'm thinking to myself, 'Well, there's another one, Laura. Gabriel Castoro." Jocelyn waggled her fingers at a server then held up her wine glass and three fingers. The server nodded his understanding.

"Are you thinking about getting out of the business?" she inquired. Laura considered the thought for a split second before she shook her head, rejecting the idea.

"No. Let's face it, Remington's not cut out for a regular job. He's as proficient as I at writing reports, but hates to do them. He despises little things like schedules, early mornings, and being stuck inside all day. He's a man that needs to be constantly challenged. If I'm honest, a large draw of becoming Remington Steele for him was that his skills as a conman and thief would constantly not only be used, but be put to the test. He felt at home in the shoes of my mythical detective because it really is who he is." She held out her hands palms up. "It's not different for me: Being a detective is not just a job, it's a large part of who I am. I can't give it up anymore than he could. We'd be going out of our minds within a week. Which brings me back to our argument yesterday."

"What about it?" Bernice prompted.

"You heard him." Laura's brows drew together in annoyance. "Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the people a floor up from us heard him. He claims I need to control everything, and he's right to a degree… not that I'd admit as much to him," she added with a grin. "So much is completely out of my control – especially the things that could threaten everything that matters to us, that I feel compelled to control the things I can." She blew out a long, frustrated breath, then automatically pasted a smile on her face when the server Jocelyn had signaled arrived with fresh glasses of wine. By the time one glass was exchanged for an empty one and the server departed, she'd decided she'd had enough of this particular conversation. "So, Jocelyn, Monroe as Shaft? He's certainly pulling it off…"

Later that evening, after the kids were tucked in bed, Remington lay on his back with Laura nestled into his side, lazily stroking her fingertips over his chest as the twilight of sleep began to descend.

"So, about that kiss…" he murmured in the darkness. Her fingers stilled.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she sighed. He held up pair of fingers preparing to explain.

"I admit, when I first suggested it, I was doing nothing more than having a bit of fun with you," he confessed. "Then it occurred to me, although it felt like an eternity – with you rejecting me at every turn and all—"

"Me, rejecting you?!" she laughed, aghast. "As I recall it, you were too busy parading bimbos through the office to offer me anything more than a smarmy comment now-and-again and the occasional leer." He waggled his brows in the darkness.

"Oh, it was far more often than occasional, I assure you."

"Uh-huh." She wasn't buying it for a second.

"The point is," he emphasized, "We'd only—"

He stopped abruptly when the portable phone on Laura's bedside table began to peal. He reluctantly unweaved his arm from around her when she moved to sit up.

"I remember, fondly now, the days when the phone rang or bullets rained down upon us whenever we kissed. Now we need only to talk about kiss—"

"Shhhh," she shushed him, as she hit the talk button. "Hello?"

"First my daughter, now my wife," he grumbled beneath his breath. "Who's it to be next?" His complaints earned another shushing sound.

"This is she… I understand… Are you sure?... How long ago?... Alright. If you wouldn't mind calling them back, let them know we'll be there within the hour…Goodnight." By the time she hung up the phone, he'd rolled to his side and propped his head in his hand.

"What is it?"

"I'll call Lina to come stay with the children. If Sophie wakes, she'll feel safe with her here. Go get dressed," she directed. "Lynnee's missing…"

On that note, Remington flopped face first down on the bed and pulled a pillow over his head, in protest. What did a man have to do to get a good night's sleep?