Johnny had wanted to follow Michael back to his aunt and uncle's house after that half-day of school was over, to confront and accuse him about the necklace; but Andrianna had been there, laying on the car horn, yelling towards him, "Let's get going, your delivery driving starts today!"

"Carrington gave Zinone a necklace." Johnny grumbled loudly after pulling his motorcycle in behind his mother's car on the driveway, out of jealousy, out of anger and resentment and some hollowing realization that ...

He'd been hoping for some understanding and pity, and was quickly disappointed.

"And the point you're trying to make is ... what?" Andrianna shook her head impatiently. "Don't worry about Michael's plans with her, it's none of your concern anyway." She didn't let him get a word in edgewise, barreling on with, "Whether you still have some feelings for Stephanie or not, it's none of your business, John Richard. And most especially considering that you've been sleeping with Paulette. Now, come inside, get changed, there's a lot that needs doing. Gianna called this morning, she had to go up to South San Francisco, her grandmother's not doing well. Galvan's taking over her position for the next few weeks. I've made him promise to behave with you, and I want to do the same with him. If you can't, then Paulette will be going to the dance tomorrow night by herself. And why don't you try calling Stephanie by her first name for a change?"

Meanwhile, Michael made it a block away from the high school in his truck (ridiculously thrilled that Stephanie had put the necklace on) before said truck was surrounded out of nowhere on every side by motorcycles, ten now in total, each one bearing a Cycle Lord, the smoke rings floating, their expressions ranging from calculating to dangerously smug.

"Heard Nogerelli fucked up real good, and that your Britain ass got made the new leader." Balmudo called, sunglasses on, a Camel cigarette dangling from his teeth, precariously close to falling to the ground. "Pity the midget didn't kick it when shit-for-brains ran him over."

Michael stared back at him, quiet, his eyes slightly narrowed. How does he ... who told him about any of that?

"Catch you 'round, Shakespeare." Balmudo snarled coldly (Michael blinked), lowering his sunglasses enough to look Michael up and down, as though he were sizing him up for a fight. He put said sunglasses back in place and motioned for his sycophants to follow him away, engines roaring.

Michael stared after them, curious and apprehensive and putting it into the back of his mind to tell Danny of the encounter the first chance he got.

The following few days were peaceful, albeit strained; Paulette and Johnny made it through the winter dance mostly unscathed, and when he walked her in through the front door of her house (their hair a wild mess and their dance outfits rumpled), Bernadette was there waiting for them; one look at her face told them she'd more or less given up, and she said with some derision, "Get a job, Paulette, I don't care where at, and I won't send you off to your grandmother's place in Sun City for the rest of Christmas vacation. Willing to bet all the retirees there would just love to meet you. And don't make me a grandmother before you graduate high school. Good night."

Halfway across town, Stephanie was lying on her bed, in part listening to an Elvis record playing in the background while staring out the window at the night sky, littered with stars, her thoughts running free after a day of being held back, and she forced them to focus, forced the objectiveness to keep in play.

He has feelings for me –

Okay, so he has feelings for me?

Okay, so he has feelings for me –

Or he's just being nice –

No, the necklace ain't a nicety, he wrote For A Sunflower –

But not my name –

He didn't say he gave it – same handwriting –

He's never fessed up to any of it –

'Hypothetically speaking, let's say that I'm madly in love with you' – is what he said –

Okay, so he has feelings for me? If he does, he's not doing anything about it – I asked him at Thanksgiving –

If he has feelings for me, he's not making a move, past a note and a gift that he didn't write my name on anymore than he signed his – he's –

He's – he's what?

Not trying. He's not making a move, an honest move –

So why should I bother?

If all he's gonna do is hide, what's the point?

Still, a sensation in her gut was unsettled.

And the dreams of the dance with the stranger continued.

Gertrude Miller was laid to rest on December 21st at the Pinelawn Cemetery on Long Island.

On the twenty-third was when Charlotte arrived at Caitríona's house in Oceanside, looking windswept, smiling and determined.

Michael stared almost dumbly up at her from his game of Poker with Bastian when Caitríona escorted her in from the drizzling rain, plainly confused, even as she accepted the tin of treacle tart that Charlotte handed her.

Ivaleigh, Rafael, and Lailea all looked over from their places on one of the couches in the television room (which was connected in a wide-open manner to the dining room), where they were watching It's A Wonderful Life; on the other couch sat Elena, Logan, and Genevieve, with Sofia perched cross-legged in the over-stuffed chair. Enrique was sitting on the floor, Diamond was napping in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and Caitríona (after sending a guarded look towards Michael) returned to the kitchen, where she, Ted, and Paula were getting a dinner prepared for everyone; Danny and Sandy would be arriving on Christmas Eve, while Rafael, Elena, Enrique, and Sofia would be returning to Los Angeles, to spend Christmas Day with Julio, who hadn't been able to get away from his new job to join them. Daniela had declined furiously to keep company with any of them, saying that she intended to visit the prisons instead.

"Hello, Michael. The tin pan that I gave to Caitríona has slices of treacle tart in it, as I know it is a favorite of yours."

"Merry Christmas, Charlotte, and thank you. It's quite lovely to see you. How is it you came to grace us with your company?" Michael had to wonder on how robotic he sounded – Why is she here?

"Did you not read my last letter? I made all the proper arrangements with Heloise. I hope you do not mind much, but I have also spoken with your aunt, Paula. I requested of her not to say anything, as I wanted to surprise you, but I was curious about this girl you claimed to have met. From what I understand ... your feelings for her are unrequited?" Divesting herself of her London Fog raincoat (her self dressed up pretty in a cashmere turtleneck sweater and pleated slacks, short heel boots and black pearl earrings), draping it over the back of a nearby chair while she spoke, Charlotte walked over and sat down primly next to him, her hands folded in her lap, her expression a little too rigid.

Michael held still, watching her. What's gotten into you? "I'm working on it." he offered, carefully.

"Yes, so I have heard. By putting together a motorbike that you could quite possibly get yourself killed on. Although I will say, you do look quite dashing in blue jeans." She looked him up and down appreciatively, a smile curving one corner of her mouth.

"Thank you."

"Perhaps this something you should reconsider, if she feels nothing for you in return?"

Michael instantly shook his head at the proposal, setting his playing cards down, pushing back a thin razor of twisting panic (and disquiet, What are you up to, Charlotte?). "I've spent a fair few weeks mulling all of this over. Nothing I'm doing for Stephanie is up for reconsideration."

"Stephanie?"

"Hey, whatsit that you're after here, coffee bean?" Ivaleigh demanded, straightening up a little, and Charlotte looked over at her, her eyes taking Ivaleigh in, a thin smile of barely-there tolerance curving along her mouth. "Cos whatever it is, ya may as well just spare yourself. I seen him when he gets 'round blondie. All she's gotta do is look at him an' he's a goner."

"And, miss. The word is 'and'. You, not ya. Around. And so on. It is rather impolite to use incorrect pronunciations." A (so-called) mispronouncing of the English language had always been a sore spot for Charlotte.

Lailea pressed her lips together, while Ivaleigh's brows raised a good inch; she looked over at Michael with an amused, irritated, "Seriously? This broad?"

"Miss Emily Post, sittin' on a barbed-wire fence." Lailea offered cheekily.

"Charlotte, why are you here?" Bastian asked, as calmly as possible, while Michael stared at his knees to keep from cracking up; everyone else in the room wasn't much better. "Working on some method to get Michael back by your side?"

Charlotte's gaze was cold. "Why should I not fight for what matters to me?"

"Because it won't make a difference." Genevieve answered. "Mike's in love with her."

"A feeling that is unrequited." Charlotte pressed, looking over at her ex-boyfriend. "Michael, be reasonable."

"I'm not in the mood for reasonability, or rationalism. I – "

"The food's ready!" Paula called, and Michael surged onto his feet, striding forward (away from Charlotte) without preamble. "Aunt Paula, I'll split the treacle tart with you."

Charlotte was right behind him anyway, with the others right behind her, and insisted on sitting next to Michael at the dining room table. She didn't talk a great deal, watching and listening while Bastian, Genevieve, and Caitríona each snuck repeated side glances at her, wondering what her angle was.

I will not lose him again.

And most certainly not to a grease monkey who cannot even figure out what she wants to do with her life.

By Christmas evening, Michael was wishing desperately that Charlotte would fly back home; her reasonings and rationalities were really getting on his nerves, and she just kept being there, nearly always keeping him within her line of sight.

"If nothing else, one or a few of the governors can come take her back." Bastian suggested to him the next afternoon, after he, Ivaleigh, Lailea, Diamond, Ted, Paula, and Caitríona joined him at Harbor Beach, following Michael's phone call to Caitríona; this was after Michael had vented to them his feelings regarding the situation, and even more after he had managed to lose Charlotte in downtown Carlsbad, some six miles away. He knew it had been downright impolite to leave her there, but, in all honesty, he needed to be able to breathe, and she had money for a cab ride back regardless. Danny and Sandy had agreed to stay behind, to keep an eye out for her.

And Michael missed Stephanie, everything about her, most especially her eyes, her smile, her laugh; the aching to see her was becoming something akin to an endless number of rose thorns, digging into his nerves.

And Charlotte just wouldn't shut up and leave him alone on the fact that his feelings were unrequited. Michael empathized better with Stephanie on that level now, had a whole new respect for it, of the dealing with annoying, infuriating ex's.

"Mum thinks she knows what Charlotte's after, materialistically, and they'll set her straight on it never happening. She called Damian, he said he would get on telling MacBay and Taggart."

"What, the – ?" Michael shook his head, nonplussed. "Charlotte's never expressed an interest in any of that. And what would she need it for, in any case? She's going to be a doctor, she'll have plenty of her own money."

"Her father won't, though. I made phone calls, one to Heloise. Milo Hayes went bankrupt a few weeks ago, his gambling debts finally caught up to him. Ottilie tried to kick him out, but everything is in his name. The London gossip chain is having a field day with their fall-out. So if what I think is the truth, then either Charlotte's looking to help Milo and Ottilie, or she's looking out for herself. And I'm willing to bet more on her own self-interest. Medical training isn't cheap." Caitríona replied grimly.

Michael shook his head again. "Okay. Say it's all true ... how does she think she would obtain any of it?"

"By forcin' your hand t' marriage in some way, likely." Ivaleigh answered, frowning. "Ya may or may not be surprised in what a person'll do if they're desperate an' crafty enough. Just don't let her cook or bring drinks t' ya."

Michael shut his eyes for a moment, forcefully digesting that sour bit of realization. "Right."

Lailea and Caitríona, meanwhile, in light of all the adoption difficulties, had decided that Diamond would remain with Caitríona, who would relocate to a whole different area. Lailea hadn't questioned as to where, and Caitríona was planning to tell anyone who might ask that Diamond was the child of a distant relative, who had died in a car accident.

Mississippi

The homecoming was achingly sweet and unbearably bitter; there were pieces here, Ivaleigh quickly discovered, that she had missed after all. The smell of the air, especially in the evening, the sounds of nature at any time of year, and the food – the fried chicken, Cajun fries, and slow-cooked pot roast, the Pimento cheese spread with club crackers, Cathead biscuits, sweet tea, frosty lemon pie ...

Main Street in Hattiesburg was as she remembered: There was the KC Cafe (they served the best strawberry milkshakes, with whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle on top), the Ben Franklin 5 & Dime (Ivaleigh's go-to for arts and crafts), Jitney Jungle (a grocery store), and Joy's Clothing; near the corner of Hardy & 11th, the Dossett Supermarket and the Dairy Queen were still standing, while over on Pine Street was Johnson Music, Rebel Theater, and JC Penney.

The Milner Hotel had closed, and there was now a large sign in front of the building, stating that it was to be torn down.

And things weren't as relaxed as before: Ivaleigh could feel it, that biting edge, like a jagged, rusted razor, ready to cut and infect and make everything bleed.

The six of them – Lailea, Ivaleigh, Bastian, Caitríona, Gwyneth, and Stanton – had gotten straight to work within hours of their arrival into Hattiesburg from Jackson on December 26th; they were staying at the Marco Hotel on Highway 11. By the 29th, a real estate attorney and a realtor had been hired on, and the house was already on the market (although, privately, Ivaleigh and Lailea both thought it should be burned to ashes), and Melina Jo Radcliffe was assisting in the finding of new positions for the maids and butler, Tallulah, Saffron, and Albert.

Neither Ambrosia Lynn, nor her husband, had had any wills put together; instead, there were the life insurance polices, one for each parent, coming in at a total of $45,000 a piece; Fitz, Ivaleigh, and Lailea had been named as the beneficiaries, with the inheritance meant to be divided evenly. Beyond figuring out where and who to donate it all to, neither Lailea or Ivaleigh had any interest in the money. At the end of an hour-long discussion, they decided to split it, half to the Royal Street High School, and the other half to the Mt. Olive Baptist Church.

Answers by a boatload had been in demand from everyone all over Hattiesburg and New Augusta, of course, after Ivaleigh's sudden reappearance, and after Ambrosia Lynn's true name and parentage were revealed, but all Lailea and Ivaleigh ever said was, "She's dead an' buried, by any name. We're leavin' it at that."

Willodean and Lyle Harris and his friends and family went unmentioned.

The relationship between the Storm twins and their grandparents was far more strained now.

Lailea and Ivaleigh couldn't go back on their thoughts of holding Gwyneth and Stanton, and even Leonard, partially responsible for all that had happened.

Gwyneth and Stanton wouldn't step down from their disapproving views of what Bastian and Lailea got up to behind a closed door, something that Ivaleigh was defending to the ground.

"We'll have him before the judge!" Stanton shouted at Caitríona at one point, after learning that Lailea and Bastian had gone out to dinner, and likely wouldn't be back until the morning. Caitríona only raised her eyebrows at him, her expression contemplative.

"Toss him off like ya did Lyle Harris? An' after everythin' he's done t' help?" Ivaleigh snarled back, arms folded, ignoring as her grandparents winced and shrank back, paling. "You can try, but the age of consent here is sixteen – "

"In California, it's eighteen – "

Ivaleigh's expression lit with rage. "Well that's just too goddamned bad! I fucked hundreds! Ever since I was thirteen! Ya want me t' beg forgiveness for not wantin' t' die in a gutter?! I can't for a life-a me figure why you're tryin' t' push Lailea back int' the hell hole she fought t' get out of! You said you was here t' help! I'm startin' t' think the only reason ya showed up was cos you was sick of feelin' guilty!"

"Yes, we are tired of the guilt, Ivaleigh, but that's not something that's ever going leave us. But you and Lailea are our granddaughters, no matter what. We can't condone this." Gwyneth answered sharply, tiredly, with tears burning.

Caitríona spoke before Ivaleigh could yell again. "May I suggest that you leave this particular fight alone before you lose Lailea and Ivaleigh permanently? You can't control them, Mr. and Mrs. Miller. Harsh as this may sound, you just about have no right to anything involving their lives, for as long as they lived without you around, for everything they went through before they ever met you. You're their support system, not their keepers. You can't fix your mistakes with your daughter through them."

Later, at the KC Cafe, while Ivaleigh was over at the Ben Franklin 5 & Dime with Gwyneth and Stanton (grinning widely at the art supplies options), Caitríona and Bastian (holding a sleeping Diamond, who laid draped halfway over his shoulder) watched Lailea with a worried expression (after Caitríona had filled the two of them in on the argument), listening as the girl nearly drove herself to distraction over the fact that history had damn near repeated itself when it came to comparing the creations of Willodean and Diamond.

"I'm terrified I'm gonna end up like her, crazy an' doin' inhuman shit."

"No." Caitríona responded firmly, looking certain, while setting three strawberry lemonades down. "I can't see that happening, not to you or to Ivaleigh." She sat and gripped Lailea's hand, making sure the girl was listening. "The two of you are stronger on the inside than your mother ever was. You're fighters."

She looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment. "And while the age of consent in California is eighteen, I know that that hasn't stopped the sixteen and seventeen-year-olds for anything. Just be careful."

Lailea and Bastian both nodded.

It was Melina Jo Radcliffe's confession that sent everything spinning again.

On the 29th, in the late afternoon, Lailea and Ivaleigh went down to her restaurant by themselves, for some dinner. Melina Jo saw to them being served fried chicken, Cathead biscuits, mashed potatoes with red-eye gravy, garden salads with ranch dressing, and sweet tea, then sat down with them and took a very deep breath, letting the words slide out with a great deal of caution. "Concerning your brother ... He's a fighter."

Ivaleigh's eyes narrowed shrewdly. What?

"Yeah, he was, much as he could be. Our father never could get him t' do much with the girls." Lailea replied between bites of her biscuit, making the sign of the cross over her heart. "God rest his soul. I wish so much that we'd found him, t' bury him."

Another deep breath, and the words came out in a thin, steady tone, "People don't generally like t' be buried alive, Lailea."

Confusion played across Lailea's face, the forkful of mashed potatoes stopped halfway to her mouth. "Beg your pardon?"

Ivaleigh stared at Melina Jo, unblinking; her eyes were burning, both literally and figuratively, when she finally whispered in a too-hoarse voice, "What a two-faced liar you are.", her mouth trembling. "Where is Fitz?"

"Beaumont, Texas. I have a cousin there. No easy feat, neither, but with all the riots an' everythin', no one noticed me slippin' him out. I found him clutchin' onto a tree at the river corner an' took him t' Marion General, in Columbia, 'bout an hour from here ... made the drive in forty minutes. The lynchin' dislocated his neck, an' his right arm was all a mess from gettin' smashed against rocks an' tree roots. Broken bones, infection, and nerve damage means he can't use it too much anymore. His left eardrum was also torn up, he had t' learn sign language."

Melina Jo stopped there, watching their faces carefully.

Ivaleigh and Lailea only stared at her, their dinners forgotten, both pairs of eyes wide and unblinking, a wild sort of desperation and anger creeping at the edges.

"When I was sure he wasn't goin' t' die, I took him t' Beaumont. By that time, the trial was over, an' I went t' tell Judge Barker, an' he helped me figure what needed t' be done. Fitz's got a new name now: Braxton Walters, an' all the paperwork t' go with it, legal or illegal, dependin' on how ya see it. Judge Barker got him into Boys' Haven, it's a group home. He's got another year before he can't stay there anymore. Staff made sure he graduated with good grades, he got a job he likes at a library, and his favorite thing is workin' with the horses.

"I don't know that he likes livin' much, but he doesn't want death yet either. He's talked t' a priest many times, but still blames himself for what happened with you both, an' those last four girls. He asks sometimes 'bout you, Lailea, an' yes, he knows you're both here now, an' everything you saw fit t' tell, an' don't go lookin' at me that way, I gave him my word. He didn't want Ambrosia Lynn t' ever get a notion in her head he's alive. I know he woulda come for you, Lailea, but he was afraid of gettin' caught, with a half-bad arm an' one ear wrecked."

"Why didn't you come get us, take us t' him, when we got here?"

"Because, for as bad as it sounds, he doesn't want t' see you. Said he feels like he wouldn't be able t' handle it. He blames himself, an' more since I called him t' tell him 'bout you, Ivaleigh."

Ivaleigh winced, then shouted, "You talk t' Braxton Walters again soon, ya tell him I said it ain't on him, what I chose t' do, t' survive. No more than it's on him 'bout Diamond. An' there ain't a damn thing more he coulda done at that house past all he did t' get 'round their insanities when they was breathin'. Ambrosia Lynn and Duke Storm were human garbage. It showed in everythin' they did!"

"We need t' talk t' him, Melina Jo." Lailea said, quite seriously, her eyes huge with the significance of her request. "It's absolutely imperative. There's things he needs t' hear 'bout."

"We need t' borrow your car." Ivaleigh added, her teeth clenching.

Melina Jo looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment. "It's nearly four in the afternoon – "

"Don't care." said Ivaleigh.

"An' it's a five an' a half hour drive."

"So?" Lailea asked.

"An' neither one of you has a license."

"Ya think that's gonna stop me? What's the address?"

"I don't know the numbers ... Boys' Haven is on the very western edge of Beaumont, on the corner of Folsom an' North Major Drive. If you're so determined, blessed be the both of you. But you're not takin' my car alone. Eat up a bit first, an' we'll go. It'll be ten or eleven easy before we get there, you'll have t' wait til mornin' t' yammer his right ear off."

Ivaleigh and Lailea were so frantic and distracted that they only managed a few more bites before hopping up and bolting for the doorway, and for Melina Jo's Cadillac in the parking lot, which Ivaleigh honestly would have stolen, if not for Melina Jo having the keys; their impatience screamed up eight notches in the few minutes it took Melina Jo to tell her employees to close the restaurant for the night come eight p.m., and they also forgot to call up into any of the hotel rooms to let their grandparents, or Caitríona, or Bastian where they were going and why.

It was over an hour before the thought finally occurred to Lailea, and by then, they were over the state line, just passing Pearl River, Louisiana. She looked over at Ivaleigh, murmuring; Ivaleigh could only shake her head, answering, "Another hour or so an' one or alla us is gonna have t' piss. We'll call then. I got the number in my head."

"We'll be in Baton Rouge by then, there's gas stations all over the place." Melina Jo supplied.

By this time (5:18 p.m.), Bastian, Caitríona (holding Diamond), and the Millers were standing near the bar of Melina Jo's restaurant, listening with stunned confusion and worry as the bartender, Chessie, explained to them that she had seen the girls leave with Melina Jo in a mad hurry, and that she had caught parts of their conversation, overhearing 'Beaumont, Texas', and the names Braxton Walters and Judge Barker.

Half an hour later, the four adults were all banging on Judge Rufus Barker's front door (after noticing his car parked in front of his garage), yelling at him to open up, "Ivaleigh and Lailea are missing, we want to know who the hell Braxton Walters is and why Melina Jo Radcliffe saw fit to take our granddaughters to Beaumont, Texas!"