Author's Note: And the beat goes on. I'm sorry for falling off a bit. I had to finish Butterfly (and I'm glad you guys enjoyed it…) and now I'm fighting off a cold/stomach flu combo. My employer's granddaughter and my siblings who are mercifully back in school have already got pathogens and my weak immune system just screams, "Come on in!" Jeez. Anyway, it's time for another Dinner Time with the Plums scene with New Frank laying down the law, Morelli and a reeling Helen still in cahoots, and the arrival of a freshly divorced and heartbroken St. Valerie with her equally heartbroken and uprooted daughters. Fun.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

"How'd he get in?"

"Picked the lock."

"How'd you get in?"

"Picked the lock…look, get yourself a couple of deadbolts…and lock that shit up."

-Ranger and Stephanie in One for the Money (2012)

"No. Whatever else you got to say to Valerie or Stephanie, you can say it right here, Helen. I want to hear it. Although, I can already guess what's on your agenda. You want to tear Valerie apart for her sleaze ex-husband's actions. You want to say that it's her fault. That if she had just kept the house a little cleaner, if she had given it to him whenever she wanted, which you don't do with me, by the way, that if she had been a 'proper Burg girl' like you raised her to be then the fucker wouldn't have run off with all their money and the babysitter. Yes? Yes. And as usual, you want to push this piece of shit that you insist on bringing into my house where I pay the too damned high mortgage while you drink yourself into a stupor with your little friends off on Stephanie and you want to browbeat her and belittle her into your respectable mold, just like you've been allowed to for years. No, Helen. No, I understand exactly what you want them to go in the kitchen for and neither one of them are going anywhere alone with you tonight. Sit down, Valerie."

Val's eyes threatened to fall out of her head but she immediately sat back down next to me. Angie and Mary Alice were quickly ushered upstairs by Grandma, leaving the table in its current state. Dad was at the head and visibly pissed off. I recognized the berserker rage look in his eyes from mine and he was holding his steak knife like he was going to throw it. Whether it was at my gaping mother next to him or at Morelli across from me and Carlos was anyone's guess. Morelli shifted uncomfortably as the berserker glare landed on him and took another forkful of eggplant parmesan, finally looking away from my T&A for the first time that evening.

I had picked a wine colored off the shoulder top, my black and silver plaid work skirt, and my boots for tonight's 'welcome home, Valerie' dinner. My .357 was holstered on my left leg and my taser was at the small of my back, red, silver and black lacy fingerless gloves emphasizing sparkly black nails. My necklace with Carlos' chain now rested prominently in my cleavage and had my hair up like I had during the Russian Roulette game. Even though he had visibly paled at the hairstyle, Morelli had spent the night blatantly ogling me, much to Carlos' deadly silent displeasure.

Carlos being Carlos had shown up in black but good casual black. A button down, jeans, and canvas sneakers. He topped it with a black leather bomber jacket and he had brought a nice bottle of burgundy, as well as a box of Cuban cigars for dad. His usual two guns and a knife combo and his hair being down gave him a rough and tumble, Antonio Banderas meets The Rock kinda look that I loved…and so did Val. The same shell shocked, ovaries exploded look crossed her face before the Burg politeness kicked in and he grasped her hand briefly, telling her in no uncertain terms that it would be okay. Val cleared her throat, whispered a quick 'thank you', and focused on her plate and the girls'.

Mary Alice had an obsession with horses, complete with galloping and neighing but she ate with utensils. Angie was taking solace in schoolwork and mile thick novels, tonight's being Sylvia Plath. I made a mental note to find her some happier stories or at least ones that make her laugh. The Canterbury Tales always cheer me up…"let fly a fart" and all that good stuff.

All 3 of the California refugees were clean, as were their (secondhand) clothes but there was a deep, wounded sadness to all three of them and my heart cried out to them. St. Valerie wasn't that saint like anymore and The Dick had thrown me into the pit she was in now. Doubts, what ifs, and worry swirled in the brain to make sleep near impossible and smiling thing of the past. I had pulled myself out by focusing on revenge but Val didn't even have that. Steve had bolted into the night, leaving the bank accounts empty and the house in foreclosure. Val was miserable and so were my nieces and all my mother could focus on was what the neighbors were going to say, "eligible bachelors" around the neighborhood, and getting Val a shitty job at the button factory, a job that would barely put ramen on the table, much less rent money…

"Frank, I'm simply…"

"I don't want to hear it, Helen. If you can't be supportive without being critical, then I don't want to hear it and I don't think anyone else does either. Princess, there's an opening for a janitor at the Cab Company. It pays twice the starting salary at the button factory and you'll be able to pick your girls up from school. Do you want the number?"

"Yes. Th-thank you, Daddy."

"A janitor?! Frank, our daughter cannot be…"

"She needs to be able to put food on the table and at least pay for the hotel until she can find a place to live around here. As much as I would like to put them up here, we don't have the room with your mother already here and the last thing she needs is "advice" from you again. You told her last year to stay with that bum even when she started to suspect him and now, look what's happened. You're lucky he didn't give her one those STDs they're always talking about on the news. Be quiet. Morelli, your plate's done and so is what little welcome you've got here. Get out."

"But, Frank I baked a pineapple upside down cake and…"

"He can take his piece in tin foil and go. And this is the last time I'm feeding him. You may cook but it's my money that buys the groceries and I'm not gonna feed the swine that hurt our daughter anymore. And if you insist on feeding him, you can do it away from here. I don't want to see his face at my dinner table ever again, Helen. Ever."

Every time Dad cut her off, Mom's face would go red and then pale quick as lightning. Morelli's jaw clenched every time he spoke, the soft venom 20 times more effective than the loudest shout, and my eyes narrowed as his hand stole to where his gun (the department let him keep his gun) was holstered. If he even thinks of trying to put a bullet in my daddy, then Hector and Carlos won't tear him apart, I will. And he's not welcome here, anyway. If he doesn't want to hear honest opinions, then he's perfectly capable of leaving. Val stood and went into the kitchen silently, a clean knife in her hand. After a couple of minutes, she came back out with a generous slab of cake wrapped in foil. She placed it in front of Morelli and went to the front door, opening it.

With a grunt, Morelli got up and went to the door, glaring at Val like she was a roach. To her credit, she just grabbed his arm and gently pulled him onto the porch, closing the door behind him with a quiet snick.

"Thanks.", I said and she looked at me with slightly less glazed eyes.

"You've already got a nice man and the last thing I want is a Morelli. Why should he get to stay?"

And away she went to collect her daughters, leaving my mother in a severe snit.

"Stephanie, I think it's time that you and your…Carlos leave now. Your father has to take Valerie and the girls back to their hotel."

"Bring her some cake, Helen and you better not do anything to it."

"Frank, I don't know what's gotten into you lately but I…"

"Go get our daughter some cake, Helen. Now."

"Frank!"

"I'm already sleeping in the Den. Do you want me to move out, too? That would be a riot to explain to the neighbors, don't you think? A man ran out of his own house by his overbearing harridan of a wife? Your respectability points would crash like Wall Street in the 80s."

My mother looked near tears but she hurried into the kitchen, banging the swinging door shut in her wake.

"Daddy, that was kinda harsh. I mean, I know you're trying to stick up for me and Val and all but…"

"I'm showing her the exact same of love and respect that she's shown you, Stephanie. Perhaps if she gets raked over the coals a few times, she'll realize that she should treat people the way she wants to be treated. I still love your mother but I don't love her attitude. Thanks for the cigars, son."

"You're welcome, Frank."

My mother shoved a Tupperware container of cake into my lap and Carlos gave her a look that would've turned her to stone if he could.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Plum. Come on, Babe."

Yeesh...maybe eating with a pack of wolves would be more fun next time.