Chapter 3
Daphne had to admit that working from home in the Blake Mansion had its advantages. The wi-fi was lightning fast and fully covered the house and grounds. The kitchen was always stocked with a full selection of healthy foods. If there was anything that she wanted but did not find, all she had to do was e-mail the request to house logistics and it would be in the kitchen within 24 hours. Her OB/GYN had printed out a recommended diet which she held as she walked through the kitchen. There was no shortage of Greek yogurt, so her dairy was covered. She added a request for lentils and chickpeas. Since Thanksgiving was coming up, there were sweet potatoes. Salmon was always on hand and the cooks included it regularly in seafood salads. Eggs were always available. Although broccoli was already on the chef's leafy green rotation, she added a request to increase its use in meals. The diet recommended lean beef and pork, but she decided to stick with lots of chicken and fish for her protein. There was no reason to change the world and the Blake women avoided red meat and pork. Requesting either of those would bring up questions she didn't want to answer. The kitchen didn't usually stock berries as a snack food, so she added that. Whole grains and avocados were always in abundant supply. Dried fruit was another one that would raise red flags, so she decided that she would get that herself along with the fish oils and keep those in her room and car.
On the negative side was the nightly family dinner which maintained the tradition of everybody except Delilah versus Daphne. And Delilah seemed to see herself more as a referee than a teammate and only chimed in when she felt a foul had occurred. Their father, George Robert Nedley 'Barty' Blake was the puppet master of the opposition, rarely speaking but usually starting the ball rolling. The primary spokesperson for her antagonists was Dawn. She was the youngest of the sisters and the meanest. In the old show, they had called her a fashion model. Like many such claims, that had been untrue. Being a successful model requires a severe work ethic and dedication to the career. Dawn had neither of those things. She considered herself an influencer and had a reasonable following but didn't really have the wherewithal to influence anything and made nothing from it other than the occasional comped meal. Since the old Scooby Doo show had established her as a 'model', Barty Blake had bought a modeling agency, hired people to run it, and put her name on it. He funneled what was basically her allowance through that agency in the form of a salary that never hit the books. It was less embarrassing than letting the world know that the youngest Blake daughter was nearing thirty without coming close to being a functional and productive member of society.
The one job at which Dawn excelled was in her position as chief enforcer to punish Daphne for committing the unforgivable sin of the Blake Clan. Daphne was the only person around the table that had ever looked Barty Blake in the eyes and said, "No." And she had done it more than once. No, she would not change her mind about marrying Fred. No, she would not force Fred to move into Blake Mansion. No, she would not force Fred to keep working at Blake Industries. No, she would not take a job at Blake Industries herself. And no, she would not change her mind about remarrying Fred. All of the animosity that her family focused on her centered around Fred. Daphne was having more and more trouble pushing that thought away.
"Guess what I saw today?" Dawn started up between mouthfuls. Maybe it was just going to be a normal conversation.
Nan Blake made the appropriate response, "What's that, dear?"
"I saw that old van from Daphne's television show driving around in town."
All eyes turned to Daphne which was never a good thing, "Yes. We are using it for a case next week and its being repaired." She immediately put a forkful of kale into her mouth hoping that the topic was at an end.
It was not, "And guess who was driving?"
The trap was now sprung. All Daphne could do was to try and get out of it without gnawing off her leg, "I imagine it was Fred."
"I thought you said he was out of town?"
"No. I said he was out of pocket. Like I said, he has to have the van ready by Monday morning, so he and the mechanic are going to be working around the clock through Sunday night."
"That seems like it would make you short-handed at your office."
Well, there it was. Daphne knew that logic was not going to be on her side. Her sisters were entitled but not stupid. The chum was in the water. She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off.
"Give it a rest, Dawn."
All eyes turned to Delilah, but she was not the one who had spoken. Mouths dropped open as the assembled Blakes became aware that the reprimand had been delivered by Nan Blake. The most stunned of the bunch appeared to be Barty, her husband.
The matriarch of the Blake Clan continued, "There comes a time when you have to stop being a bunch of selfish spoiled brats and start acting like a family."
Barty interrupted her but looked at Daphne, "A family lives under the same roof and supports the family businesses."
The sisters were in shocked silence. They had never seen anything other than a united front from their parents. But it got worse.
Nan didn't look at her husband, "Barty, we can't define 'family' how we see fit. We are a family and it defines itself. Daphne is guilty of nothing other than trying to live her own life. That's something that would benefit some of our other children."
Barty was bright red but managed to keep his voice to dinner-table levels, "We will discuss this later."
Nan gave a weary nod, "I'm sure we will. But this is my dinner table and the sniping will stop." She looked around the table at her children, "Am I understood?"
The room was deathly silent. Nan spoke into the void, "Well, qui tacet consentire videtur. So, we are all agreed."
The room was quiet enough for everyone to hear Delilah's whispered "You go, girl."
The rest of the meal included a tense recitation of the day's events in each of their lives. Daphne volunteered nothing.
xXx
Fred was still suffering from severe insomnia. In addition to being consumed by anger and guilt, he was moody, depressed, and actively destroying his marriage. Mostly, he was hurting the woman that he had loved since high school. But he was working on the Mystery Machine and using brand new high-quality parts to perform his dreamed-of complete upgrade. When he and Malcolm were done, it would be better than when he had first bought it. If there was anything that could temporarily take his mind off the dumpster fire that was his life, this was it.
The original cost estimate of $12,225 was exceeded when they pulled up the old carpeting and found more rust on the floorboard than expected – a lot more. The maximum amount of $15,000 which the client was willing to pay was exceeded when the inspection of the engine passed the point of no return and they accepted that the entire motor would have to be pulled out and replaced. The final cost which Fred worked out with Malcolm was $18,000 even. Fred made the executive decision to pull that out of the agency's rainy-day fund. If they put off filling the receptionist position until the new year, they would be back on budget before year-end close-out.
Replacing the engine was especially tricky since the old girl had the engine located under the driver's seat. Also challenging was finding a new engine which would fit in the compartment. The original was 260 cui V8 with 164 hp and 258 lbft of torque. Fred would not accept a V6 and demanded that the van have a V8. Malcolm combed the internet and made multiple phone calls and found a Supercharged 6.2L Hemi V8 which would fit in the compartment and was available in Riley.
On Friday afternoon, he had to step away from the work while the van was completely repainted. As Fred watched, they painted the blue as a base coat and then put the green stripes over it. After they were done, it would just take him a couple of hours of interior work to have it ready for viewing. They were masking off for the orange accents and lettering when he sent out a group text to The Gang inviting them to the garage on Saturday morning to take a look. At that point, there would still be lots of details to finish up in the drive train but the insides and paint job would be finished.
What on Friday afternoon had seemed like just a couple of hours of work kept Fred in garage through the night getting everything ready for the preliminary grand reveal to the rest of Mystery Inc. It wasn't like he was going to get any sleep anyway and he was doing something he loved.
At 9:55 the following morning, Fred was exhausted but content. The van wasn't ready to head out on the highway yet but it was on schedule for Monday morning. His heart sank when the first car to arrive was Daphne. He had hoped that the others would show up first and save him awkward time alone with his wife. She pulled up, parked the car, and entered into that weird zone of time that women seem to have between when their car stops and when they get out.
For the first time ever, Fred hoped for that time to be extended as he looked out into the street for a sign that the rest of The Gang was showing up. No such luck. Daphne opened the door and pulled herself out of her car. She shut the door behind her and joined him in looking out into the street.
They stood in silence awaiting their friends… or a tornado… or a comet striking the Earth and ending civilization… or ANYTHING to end the incredibly awkward moment which they were sharing. None of those things happened and Fred knew that the ball was in his court. He had been the last one to be a complete asshat.
"I really am sorry, Daphne. I was a dick."
She didn't look at him, "No shit."
"It's not who I am and it won't happen again."
This made her whirl toward him, "Not who you are?! I was there during the divorce! It's exactly who you are!"
He replayed in his head all of the rules her had made for himself after the divorce. Things he would never do again. He had broken most of them in the last few days, "I can't really argue that. But it's not who I want to be."
"Until you do." Another point he couldn't really argue. He looked at his watch. It still wasn't 10:00. There was no telling when the others would show up and this torment would end.
Her voice softened, "It could be worse, I suppose…"
"How?"
"You could have gotten pregnant and changed our lives forever without letting me be involved in the decision."
He hazarded a small joke, "Then I'd have a Government laboratory studying me just like Scooby."
Her smile was brief and pained, "We're just a pair of assholes who can't stop hurting each other."
He nodded, "Daph, however this turns out. I love you. I know I do." He bent his face down and kissed her lightly on the top of her head.
She leaned into the expected embrace just as he turned and stepped away. The extra step she needed to regain her balance was not clownish but neither was it graceful. When she had her feet under her, she looked past his waving hand at Shaggy's huge gas-guzzler pulling into the lot. She stepped next to her husband and joined the wave.
The tuna boat pulled up next to her small fuel-efficient car and Shaggy immediately popped out followed by Scooby from the rear seat and Velma from the passenger side. Velma didn't seem to have the time warp problem of exiting from a vehicle. Shaggy's eyes held a slightly questioning look as they darted back between Fred and Daphne.
Daphne responded by shifting her weight to the foot nearest her husband, "Hi guys!" Big smile. Everything was A-OK.
Fred didn't notice or respond to her effort at body language but did bring up a smile of his own, "Yeah Gang. Are you ready for the big reveal?!" His excitement was not feigned. He was like a wide-eyed child filled with the joys of sharing a big secret. This was the real Fred, and Daphne felt some of her tension and anger ebbing away.
Fred almost ran over to a spot directly in front of one of the garage doors, "You have to stand right here and look at the door." He was almost breathless and everyone did as he asked. The smiles were now real with Velma's eyes atwinkle. When they were in position, he ran inside through a small side door and within seconds, the opening bars of 2001: A Space Odyssey played over the garage's speakers and the garage door began to slowly rise. Shaggy was openly laughing now, truly enjoying the incredibly campy presentation.
The door made it to the top to reveal The Mystery Machine with Fred standing next to it wearing an enormous grin.
Velma spoke first, "It looks just like it did back in the day."
Shaggy shook his head, "No. It never looked that good." They had gotten it used from that teenybopper rock duo and he had never seen it without some scratches and minor dents.
Velma looked over at Fred, "That's not what I mean. I was expecting it to be painted in more subdued tones so that we could use it as a surveillance van. With maybe a 'Scooby Doo Investigations' logo on the side at most."
Fred stepped out of the shadows of the garage into the morning sunlight, "I thought about that but I figured that we have two uses for it: one is for supporting the business and the other is for making extra money at fan conventions. There are still a lot of things we can use the van for in the business with it painted this way. But we completely lose its value on the fan convention circuit if we don't paint it this way."
Daphne allowed herself a smile, "And you always loved it the way it was."
Fred looked down sheepishly, "Guilty as charged."
Velma shrugged, "I can't refute your logic. I concur with your decision."
Fred beamed and led them on a tour around the outside explaining in mind-numbing detail which pieces/parts had been replaced and which had been repaired and then gave exhaustive detail to the search for replacement parts for a mid-1960's era panel van. Shaggy had flashbacks to sitting with his restaurant patrons who were home-brewers talking about beer. He started pinching himself to stay awake. But the van was amazing.
But that was nothing compared to grand reveal number two as Fred opened the two front doors and the rear doors to let everyone see and climb inside. The two bench seats had been replaced by four individual ergonomically-designed chairs with adjustable lumbar support, cup holders, and built-in food trays that folded off to the side when not in use. A comfortable dog-style bed was placed on an elevated platform next to the chairs in the back which would bring Scooby's head equal to everyone else's when he was sitting. A unique safety restraint based on fall-protection was included for Scooby's protection. The rear seat on the right had an elevated footrest which came out from under the seat at the touch of a button to keep Velma's feet from dangling which used to put her legs to sleep on long trips.
Of all people, Velma is the one that said something nostalgic, "I'll kind of miss snuggling together in the back but being able to walk straight after a long trip is a pretty good trade-off."
Running down one side of the van in the back was a bench with three work spaces. Fred explained them, "The van has high-speed satellite internet with wi-fi that has a range of about one hundred feet in all directions. It has automatic tracking so it stays connected while we drive. The two computer work stations have docking stations hooked to four monitors each and a combination plotter/scanner/copier. Both of the first two stations hook directly into the security/surveillance system which has 360-degree camera coverage with adjustable cameras and including the capacity to see overhead, underneath, and into the interior of the van. 360-degree motion and infra-red sensors are also included. The third station is a work bench for working with electronics and other things we have needed to do in the past while in the field."
Fred turned to the other side of the van but Shaggy cut him off, "Allow me, Fred. The other side of the van includes a state-of-the-art miniaturized kitchen with all of the best names on the RV cooking equipment market. All electronic with pantry space included. That was my small part in this."
Fred finished up, "And squeezed into the back corner is a very cramped but functional private toilet. Given the tight confines of the van, I would recommend number one only." He looked around at the others, "And there the old girl is in all her glory."
Velma climbed in and hopped up into her chair. The power wasn't hooked up so she couldn't bring out the footrest, "What's that smell?"
Fred sniffed the air, "What smell?"
"Exactly! How did you get rid of the smell?"
He smiled, "When we pulled the seats out, we found mounds of decaying Scooby Snack crumbs."
"Rwhat did roo do with them?"
"We threw them away and felt lucky to do that. I was afraid that it might be declared hazardous waste."
"Roo threw aray Scooby Snack crumbs? Rwhat a waste."
Shaggy joined in, "I feel your pain, Scooby old pal."
With everyone – even Velma – seeming pleased with the improvements, Fred closed the festivities, "Okay Gang, we've actually still got a lot of work to do to have her roadworthy by Monday morning, so the tour is over. We'll all meet at the office at 7:00 AM on Monday morning, packed and ready to go."
With some nods and congratulations, The Gang began to disperse. Daphne held up for a moment in the event that maybe Fred wanted to talk some more but he immediately walked back into the garage and called out for Malcolm. She got into her car and headed back to Blake Mansion. During the drive, her head kept spinning Fred's words around and around and around.
However this turns out. I love you. I know I do.
What the hell did any of that mean?! 'However this turns out?' Really? How many options were there? It was going to turn out with them getting back together, resolving everything, and living happily ever after. It had to. Didn't it? And then… 'I love you. I know I do.' He must have just misspoke and meant to say 'You know I do.' If not, then who was he trying to convince? But then, he had kissed on the top of the head and the kiss had been gentle and he would have put his arms around her if Shaggy had not driven up right then. She knew he would have. She just knew it.
Parking the car in front, she let herself in through the front door and bumped into the butler passing through, "Oh, hi Aaron. What's happening around here?"
"Good morning. Miss Daphne. Your father is at his office which should keep him occupied until dinnertime. Your mother is resting in her bedroom…"
"In the middle of the morning? Isn't that unusual?"
"Not so much of late. We all get older. Even the Iron Maiden."
This brought about a smile, "The Iron Maiden? Really?"
"The younger members of the staff seem adept at assigning nicknames. I admit that I fall prey to their usage myself."
"It's pretty brazen of you to be letting me in on this nickname business."
"I believe that if our last conversation didn't get me fired, this one – by comparison – is relatively minor. And as regards to that, I certainly owe you a sincere apology. What I said was completely inappropriate."
"It was certainly out in left field. If I could have disputed a single word of it, then maybe I would have gotten mad. Apology is completely accepted."
"To complete my response to your query, your sister Delilah is also at work and the three stooges are out doing whatever it is they do."
Daphne laughed and it felt good, "The three stooges being Dawn, Daisy, and Dorothy. I think that I'm going to like our new relationship, Aaron. Just out of curiosity, what's my nickname?"
He paused for a moment, "I'm afraid that would The Outsider."
Daphne's laughter died, "Probably the most accurate one of the bunch."
"How is Mr. Fred? Should we be expecting him sometime soon?"
Annoyance flashed through Daphne. She didn't want to be questioned about her relationship with Fred right now, "Fred is extremely busy with this new case right now. It will be some time before he visits here again, I would guess." She turned to head upstairs to her room but was stopped at the sound of his voice behind her.
"Ms. Daphne, when I first came under your family's employ, you were one year old. You grew into a petty, selfish, entitled little brat just like your sisters. Both you and Ms. Delilah have managed to break out of that mold and might I be so bold as to say that I am very proud of the women that you two are becoming."
Daphne's mind furnished her no words with which to respond to this.
Aaron continued, "Now, if you could possibly teach the three stooges how to follow in your footsteps."
The response to this came immediately to her mind but she hesitated a moment deciding whether to vocalize it, "That's not for me to teach them. Any changes that have been wrought in me have come from learning one thing: being a Blake doesn't protect you from failure. Only life itself can teach that lesson."
Aaron nodded, "I believe that to be a correct statement. Good day, Ms. Daphne."
Daphne smiled, "Good day, Aaron."
While Daphne's anxieties didn't rise to the definition of a disorder as Velma's did, she was still a human being and could very well become overcome by a wave of anxiousness if there was something to be anxious about. She was about to become a mother and the support of the father – her husband – was in question. Her brain did what most human brains did in such a circumstance. It took the available information and spun it around and around and around – sometimes playing it to the optimistic side but mainly focusing on the pessimistic. This dust devil of thoughts and emotions rampaged through her brain throughout the night and, at about 4:00 AM, she gave up and climbed out of her bed and went downstairs to try and find a snack from the approved list of foods.
She was sitting in the kitchen stirring blueberries into Greek yogurt and trying to find something remotely interesting on Twitter to keep her mind away from the carousel of apology, fight, 'however this turns out', 'I love you, I know I do', kiss on then head, and failed embrace. It was like a puzzle where none of the pieces fit together.
At about 4:15, she heard the family door open and within a moment Dawn was drunkenly swaying in the kitchen doorway. It took a moment for the fact that someone else was in the kitchen to pierce the drunken stupor. Dawn's speech was decidedly slurred, "Oh. It's you."
If Daphne had been granted a genie wish for something to keep her mind off of her own thoughts, this would be the ugly, twisted version of that wish that an evil djinn would set into motion. "Good morning, Dawn. Did you have an interesting evening?"
"I've had worse. Yours was obviously exciting."
Daphne spooned some yogurt into her mouth without getting enough blueberries which made it a little too sour. She made a face and then swallowed, "My evening is as exciting as I need it to be."
Dawn staggered into the room and flopped down onto one of the stools. The combination of the short skirt, the ungainly motion of the sit, and the awkward slant of her legs atop the stool clearly revealed that her younger sister was wearing no underwear.
"What the hell, Dawn?!"
The younger Blake appeared perplexed for a moment and then looked foggily down into her lap and realized what was exposed. She wriggled around on the stool to pull the mini-dress down as far as it would go and turned away slightly, "Yeah, I must have lost my panties somewhere during the evening. It happens."
Daphne dumped some more blueberries into the plastic container and stirred them around, "You be you."
"Right. That's exactly what I'm doing. To me, men are more for renting than buying. And, if I can get away with a free test drive, so much the better. It's so much less pathetic than trying to have just one man and being unable to keep him."
Daphne looked across the counter at her sister, drunk, disheveled, and coming home panty-less after four o'clock in the morning, "Is it? Really?"
"Yes. It is. Really." Dawn stood and staggered to the right, catching herself on one of the refrigerators. Righting herself, she slid out of her four-inch heels and walked unsteadily from the kitchen, leaving the shoes in the middle of the floor.
Daphne watched her sister go and ate another spoonful. The blueberry to yogurt ratio was better and she made no face as she swallowed. The run-in with Dawn was as unpleasant as always but it had taken her mind off of her own issues for just a moment. Before the thought process surrounding Fred could reboot, her psychological self-preservation intervened. Wallowing in the thoughts would just wear her down. The only way to break free was to take control of the situation. She had to stop waiting for the situation to resolve itself. That was lazy and cowardly. She needed to face it head on. And she and Fred needed to do it together. They needed to talk face-to-face and alone without interruption and make a plan for how they were going to get their marriage back on track. And they would do it in the morning. She knew that he liked to sleep in on Sunday mornings, so she would go over at 8:00 and they would talk and develop a plan. He would have to agree since they were about to spend several days working closely together. It would be for the good of the agency.
With a proactive plan in place, she was able to go back up to her bedroom and squeeze in a couple of hours of sleep before her alarm went off and it was time to begin making the myriad of small decisions which were needed to prepare for this face-to-face discussion with her husband. First, her overall look. She should look like she took the meeting very seriously while still remembering that it was early Sunday morning. So, a formally informal look. She could do that. It was the wrong season for a sun dress but a pants suit was a little too sterile. She knew that Fred liked the way she looked in her best jeans so that decision was made. Heels with the jeans was a sexy look but that wasn't really where she wanted to go this morning so she went with simple flats. A loose-fitting shirt untucked would look like what she would probably be wearing after she began to show so that was off the table. She chose a formfitting white top which meant that she had to go braless (which was getting less comfortable with each passing year) to avoid showing bra straps. This brought her back to a little too sexy, so she took it off, put her bra back on, and put the top on over it. She then added a loose-fitting jacket over the ensemble which covered her shoulders. Stepping back, she examined herself in one of the three full-length mirrors in her room and checked the various angles. It worked.
A similar process was followed for make-up but that was her strength and, with the overall look established, it took only a few minutes. So that got her to the point of being dressed.
While driving over to their house, she went over and over in her mind the different things that they just had to talk about. She worked through what she could say that would lead the conversation through the tougher parts of these discussions. She identified the items that she could concede and, as she drove, she realized it was everything but the baby. And that was where the conversation had to end up. They needed a plan for how their marriage could not only survive her breech of trust but could also include another human being. If Fred wasn't ready to talk details, then they needed a plan for how they were going to get to the point that he was. Fred was the king of plans. He would have to go along with the idea of making and following plans. As she pulled into the driveway and parked over the oil stain in the gravel where the Mystery Machine was usually parked, she went mentally through her discussion notes and knew that she was prepared.
Turning off the car, she sat and stared at the house. Her house. Where she was not now living. Her life. That she was not now living. She prepared herself for Fred's emotional pushback. His most likely reaction to her showing up unannounced was anger which she would have to weather. He knew as well as she did that they were fighting for their marriage. They had been through this during their divorce and lost. They couldn't do that to themselves again. They had to have learned something. There must have been some growth. But, if that were true, then why had she gotten pregnant without his concurrence? The success of this whole plan was contingent on his having learned and grown more than she had. If he had not, then she didn't know what was going to happen.
She was dressed and she was prepared. But she wasn't sure that she was ready. Be that as it may, she was here and this had to be done, it had to work, and it had to happen now.
Her heartrate began to increase as she got out of the car and walked to the side door of their house where she stopped. Should she let herself in? Or knock? Or call him on the phone to say she was outside? She decided on the last one and pulled out her phone just as the door opened. She looked up and opened her mouth to speak when she realized that she was looking at Alicia Clark.
Daphne's mouth froze in the open position as she watched Alicia jump, startled. Alicia spoke, "Um… hi Daphne." She then turned her head over her shoulder and yelled into the house, "Freddy, Daphne's here."
She turned back to Daphne, "Excuse me." Alicia turned slightly sideways to get past and made her way out of the door. Daphne watched in stunned silence as Alicia went to the garage… her garage… HER GODDAMN GARAGE, bent down and opened the large door to reveal the motorcycle inside. Alicia didn't look at Daphne as she rolled the motorcycle out of the garage, mounted it, put on her helmet, and rode away.
Daphne was still standing on the stoop and turned to look back into the house. Fred was walking through the living room toward her wearing some gym shorts and pulling on a t-shirt, "Daphne, what are you doing here?"
Daphne found her first word since the door opened, "Nothing." She turned and walked to her car, waiting for the sound of his voice from the door, calling her back. It didn't come. She drove away.
Fred stepped through the side door that Daphne had not closed and watched as she drove away. His system flooded with an olio of emotions: the ever-present anger awakened by her coming over unannounced, guilt, sadness, sense of failure, and then, last of all, relief. Regardless of the memories and his belief that the marriage could be saved with enough work, he was flooded with relief that he wasn't going to have to make the effort. He was just so tired - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. He knew that he didn't have it in him to struggle anymore.
xXx
As usual on a Sunday morning, Shaggy was awake and cooking what Velma referred to as the nasty breakfast that he made on week-ends for himself and Scooby. Velma herself was in the bathroom taking her shower until the smells of his cooking dissipated. Scooby was sleeping in. What was unusual was the sudden pounding on the door. Shaggy stepped over to the door and looked through the peephole to see green eyes and red hair.
He opened it, "Hi Daphne, what's…"
Daphne stepped forward, fell against him, and burst into tears against his chest.
Shaggy turned and yelled back into the apartment, "Velma! Daphne's here."
This was so similar to the words that she had just heard from Alicia that Daphne's tears redoubled while Shaggy rested one arm around her shoulders and used the other to close the door while guiding her toward the sofa. He heard their bedroom door open and Velma stepped into the room wearing a bathrobe with her hair hanging down wet and stringy and sticking to her neck. It was cold.
As Shaggy sat Daphne down on the sofa, he looked at Velma urgently which she processed to mean that there would be no time allowed for her to towel off properly and get some clothes. She was going to have to handle this while wet, cold, and wearing a bathrobe. In addition, the smells of nasty breakfast were still very heavy on the air.
Shaggy was sidling toward the bedrooms, "I'll grab Scoob and we'll eat breakfast out."
Velma looked up at him, "Take what you cooked with you and leave the fan running in the kitchen."
She sat on the sofa next to Daphne and bounced a little to pull her bathrobe around so that she could hold it closed with her knees. Daphne's sobs seemed to be subsiding and she sat there mutely as Shaggy and Scooby scrambled to gather their food from the kitchen and make their exit.
Velma used the time to process the situation. Shaggy had been worried about the way that Fred had been acting, cryptically saying that he was afraid that bad things were going to happen. Daphne's present state indicated that Shaggy's foreboding had come to fruition. Whatever Shaggy had been afraid that Fred would do, he had done. The next step in the process was for her to be there for her best friend and let the story come out.
Daphne's voice came out dead, "It's over."
xXx
Shaggy and Scooby didn't go to a restaurant but instead headed straight over to Fred and Daphne's house. Scooby was freshly awake and had not yet caught up with what was happening, but he knew from scent and mannerism that his best friend was livid.
It wasn't Shaggy's intention to pound on the door but the adrenaline pumping through his system made his fist hit the metal-clad door hard enough to hurt his knuckles. The sound of Fred's footfalls from inside preceded the door opening. Fred was still wearing the gym shorts and t-shirt. He looked out at Shaggy, "I figured that's where she went." Fred turned and went back into the house, leaving the door open. Shaggy took it as an invitation to enter. Scooby followed Shaggy and remained quiet while he continued to try and figure out exactly what was happening.
Fred walked into the kitchen and looked out over the counter, "Coffee?"
Shaggy ignored the question and asked one of his own, "Fred, how big of an asshole are you?"
Fred began to scoop coffee grounds into the filter of his drip coffee maker, "I think you already know."
"No. Scooby and I left as soon as Daphne got there. I want to hear you say it."
"Daphne and I are separated." The obvious excuse was delivered without energy or defiance. It was like holding a newspaper over your head to protect from a monsoon.
"Not by any reasonable definition of the word. You and Daphne are married. What did you do? Say it."
"Alicia spent the night last night."
Scooby spoke for the first time, "Aricia? Aricia Crark?"
Shaggy took over and gestured to Fred's face which still sported a support bandage across the bridge of his nose and some lingering bruising around the eyes from the beating she had given him, "The one who did that?"
"I deserved this. You, of all people, know that."
There were clearly things that Shaggy would not understand. He skipped over that, "You said that she spent the night. What exactly does that mean?"
Fred took a deep breath and framed it as painfully as possible, "It means that she and I had sex in Daphne's house and in Daphne's bed. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
The moment froze and was only broken when Scooby let out a soft whimper. Shaggy looked at Fred, "No. That's not what I wanted to hear at all."
