"So, how have you been?" Kim asked once they were seated at El Restaurante del Rio, Salem's newest Mexican restaurant constructed on the high west bank overlooking the river.

Lonely was the response that came to mind as Shane observed his former wife from across the square table. Jeannie sat at the right-angle edge between them, her head turning back and forth to look at their faces, watching attentively for signs of interest between her parents. She seemed mystified at the painfully uncomfortable silence that had dominated the car ride, and she clearly feared it would continue now that they were seated.

"Fine," he replied to Kim's question. The automatic response sounded generic and bland, and he cringed inwardly at the insipidness. "You?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I've been fine too."

They fell silent again, browsing the menus. When he had suggested leaving it up to their daughter to select the restaurant of her choice, Shane had not expected that she would pick an ethnic restaurant known for rich and spicy food. Following the pizza he had eaten for lunch at the safe house, he could almost feel the heartburn starting already in anticipation of yet another rich meal until he saw the soup and salad selection, and experienced a sense of relief.

When their waitress came over to take their orders, they told her what they wanted, and then after she had gone, the awkward silence hung between them again, as wide as the river that flowed past the windows. The restaurant was crowded with patrons, and although Jeannie had expressed disappointment, they had accepted the table near the wall farthest from the windows and their view to avoid a lengthy wait.

For several moments, they sipped their drinks and nibbled on chips and salsa.

"So, how's Miss Peach?" Kim asked, breaking the silence again, inquiring about the agent who had been Shane's partner and who had spent much of her service undercover.

Shane had to admire her attempt to strike up a conversation. "She's fine," he replied, then scolded himself inwardly for the nonspecific answer, and elaborated, "She retired a few years back, so I don't see her often. I did see her a couple of years ago quite by chance, and she asked about you."

Kim's expression seemed to light up. "Did she?"

"Yes. She was always fond of you." He did not add that Peachy had given him a sound scolding for not working through that rough spot in their marriage.

"I always liked her too. She was a good person to have watching your back, and I always felt like she helped keep you safe."

Shane chuckled. "She was a character. Reliable and outspoken, and always kept me on my toes. But you're right; she was definitely an asset to have on your side in a tight situation, and I owed my safety to her on more than one occasion."

After another pause, Kim asked, "What did you tell her when she asked about me? I mean, this is the first time we've seen each other in years. You look pretty good, by the way," she added with a pleasant smile.

"You look pretty good yourself," he countered. Did she ever! "Well, I told Peachy that I hadn't seen you in a long time, but that you were remarried and apparently happy."

Kim sighed and let her eyes stray to the television that was mounted on the wall where baseball players moved soundlessly in a stadium. The words of the announcer appeared in continuous closed caption feed across the bottom of the screen.

"There's something you don't know," she said, slowly, responding at last to his comment. "Phillip and I are divorced."

Shane felt his heart leap unexpectedly inside his chest, and he silently scolded himself for his reaction to the demise of her marriage, especially if it had enabled her to find some measure of happiness. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," he said, his voice sympathetic.

"Don't be," Kim told him, turning away from the television to face him again. His expression was neutral, non-judgmental, but she knew he was almost certainly wondering why the marriage had broken up. "We had a few fairly good years, but living and working in Hollywood as a film producer . . ." Her voice trailed, and she shook her head, trying to find a tactful way to tell him about the breakup. "What is it they always say? The grass is greener on the other side of the fence'?"

"More accurately, someone let the bull out of the paddock," Jeannie said, disgustedly, then plowed ahead with no attempt to hide the disdain for her former stepfather. "He was fooling around with one of his pretty young starlets. I didn't think she was all that pretty, personally, but he was practically slobbering over her. Boy did he look silly, this older man running around with this 20-year-old floozy on his arm. She didn't even care at all that he was married. What a -"

"Jeannie!" Kim scolded.

"Well, it's true! Phillip didn't care anything for us, or he wouldn't have been running around like that. They deserved each other," the girl finished. "Both of them were as dumb as a mud fence."

"That's my girl! Tell it like it is!" Shane laughed, delighted with his daughter's explanation and description, very aware that many children who were raised from infancy by a stepparent often grew closer to that person and away from the natural parent. Jeannie apparently held little respect for Phillip.

"Anyway," Kim said, indicating that she would discuss Phillip no more, "I was ready to get out of Hollywood, so we moved farther up the coast to Seattle."

"Why Seattle?" Shane asked. "I'm surprised you didn't stay in L.A. to be near Kayla."

"We didn't live all that close. Los Angeles is a big area, and we just never could seem to get together because of our jobs and our own circles of friends. I missed living a cooler climate, so when a job opportunity came my way that involved relocating to Seattle, I decided to take it."

"So, what have you been doing with yourself?"

"Not much, really. Mainly just working and spending time with the kids. Andrew is becoming more independent, and we don't see him as much now as we once did."

Shane sighed. "Well, you see him more often than I do. In fact, you see both of them more than I do." He reached out and took Jeannie's hand on the tabletop. "You, young lady, hardly ever come to see me anymore. Do you realize how long it's been since you've come to England?"

Jeannie squirmed, guiltily. "Talk about a guilt trip," she accused. "It's just such a long flight and . . ." She shrugged, trying to find a way to express her thoughts without hurting his feelings. "It isn't that I don't want to see you. I'd love to see you more often. But I don't like to fly, and it's such a long way."

"I know," he said, letting her off the hook, knowing that he could have taken vacation time to fly to the States to see her. "It's a long flight. I understand. I have missed you, though."

"I've missed you too, Dad." She leaned over to hug him. "I'm glad you came."

"So am I." It felt good to embrace his child, and he gave her an extra squeeze of affection before releasing her. "I just can't get over how much you've grown since the last time I saw you."

"She and Andrew have both had some serious growth spurts," Kim said, careful to avoid pointing out the fact that it had been several years since he had last seen them.

"So how come you're in Salem?" Jeannie asked. "Did you know that Mom and I were here?"

Shane felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that he had not gone to Salem specifically to see her. That had been an unexpected bonus. His eyes darted to his ex-wife, wondering how much she had told their daughter.

As if reading his mind, she said, "I haven't told anyone why you're here. I wasn't sure how much I could safely say."

He nodded, then explained, "I flew in this morning, but I didn't actually realize you and your mother were here. I'm thrilled that you are, though."

Jeannie sighed, bitterly, her mood instantly turning dark. "It's the I.S.A., isn't it?"

"Partly."

"I HATE the I.S.A.," she declared, hotly. Leaning back in her chair, she folded her arms in a resentful gesture, avoiding the startled expression on her father's face.

"Jeannie," Kim warned, quietly.

"Mom, even when Andrew and I went over there to see him, we spent a lot of our time on our own because he had I.S.A. stuff that needed his attention. Even in the same house, even though we'd flown halfway around the world to spend time with him, we hardly ever saw him. Even when he took vacation time to be with us, they still called him with things they wanted him to do, and he never told them no! That's why neither of us likes to go there! We didn't fly all that way to ride horses by ourselves or play croquet by ourselves, or eat in that huge dining room by ourselves."

She stopped, looking ashamed by her outburst. "I'm sorry, Dad, but Andrew and I wanted to spend time with you, but even when you were with us, it was like you were someplace else all the time because you were always thinking about I.S.A. stuff."

Shane had been listening to his daughter's angry outburst with solemn attentiveness, remembering all those times he had requested vacation time that coincided with his children's' visits, only to be called away by one urgently sensitive case or another. He had not realized how intuitive they were about his distractions.

"I think I'm the one who needs to apologize," he said. "I had no idea I was so neglectful. I guess I've allowed the I.S.A. to dominate the biggest part of my life, and I do have regrets about that. I'm not even sure when it took so much control over me. Before I met your mother, probably." He was looking directly at Kim, as if trying to convey a particular message. "I apologize for that as well."

Kim looked back at him, wondering if the look meant what she thought it did, that he was acknowledging his own role in the failure of their marriage. "Well, you have an important job," she said, carefully.

Jeanie was not so tactful. "More important than us?" she challenged with youthful indignation.

"No!" Shane responded quickly. "How can you think that?"

"Then why did you leave us? Why didn't you and Mom try to work things out?"

Shane's eyes met those of his ex-wife for several moments, while Jeannie waited for an answer. With a sigh, he said, "It wasn't that simple."

"Why not?" she challenged.

"Jeannie, there were things going on that were between your mother and me, unfortunate things that affected the way we felt about each other at the time. Let's just say that we both made some mistakes that hurt the other one, things I know we both regret."

"What kind of things?" Jeannie demanded.

"Things that were between your father and me, Jeannie," Kim said, firmly.

"In other words, 'none of my business', right?" Jeannie said, sullenly.

"Well, yes," Kim agreed. "Those were bad times, but they happened before you were even born."

Jeannie was clearly dissatisfied with the lack of information that her parents had provided, but before she could pursue the subject, the waitress arrived with a large tray holding salads for Shane and Kim and an enchilada platter for Jeannie.

"Can I get you anything else?" asked the waitress.

"No, thank you. We're fine," Shane replied, then after she had left to check on the next table, he turned to his daughter, who was applying salsa to one of her enchiladas. "Are you going to eat all that?"

She looked up, accepting that the discussion about her parents' divorce was closed.

"Sure. You should try it," she told him. "It's great."

"Thank you, but this late in the evening, I think this is as much as I can handle. I'd be up with heartburn all night."

Kim laughed, softly. "Digestion seems to change as we get older, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does," he agreed. "But I am thoroughly enjoying the company."

Jeanne observed her parents as they smiled at one another across the table, and felt a surge of hope. Maybe this trip to Salem would be worth it after all!