~VI~

Lee scanned the noisy convocation center, automatically searching the crowd for anything out of place.  He wasn't sure exactly what he hoped to find, but the clusters of parents and students enjoying themselves at the 'Casino Night' tables seemed frustratingly normal. Maybe he really was suffering from a belated case of 'shadow shock' after all - seeing conspiracies where none existed. Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled loudly.

"What's up, Scarecrow?"

He turned to find his wife standing to one side, her hands folded carefully across her chest. "That obvious, huh?" he asked, giving her a sheepish smile.

"Just to me. Although, if you keep circling this room, I might not be the only one asking questions." She eyed him suspiciously. "You know, you've been awfully 'cloak and dagger' all evening.  Just where did you disappear to after dinner?"

He shrugged, giving her his most ingenuous smile. "Can't a guy take a trip to the men's room without issuing a bulletin?"

"I'll bet it was pretty crowded in there. I noticed good old 'Jimbo' pulled a vanishing act right around the same time.

He raised an eyebrow innocently. "Who?"

"You know who. Your buddy 'Jimbo' Walters."

He laughed in reply. "Good. The guy's a royal pain in the . . ." Catching her look, he quickly leaned over to give her a kiss. He intended to keep it light, but as soon his lips met hers, he could feel the flame they'd ignited earlier begin to rise again.

"So Mrs. Stetson," he began in a teasing voice, "we managed to survive that three course masterpiece they called dinner . . . " He drew closer, their fingertips barely touching, and he saw her smile widen. "We listened attentively to all those speeches from the department heads," he continued in an intimate whisper, "and we even put in an appearance at this imitation Las Vegas gala." Toying idly with her wedding and engagement rings, he brought her hand up to rest on his chest.  "Think we've done our parental duty for the night?"

She hesitated for the briefest of seconds, a small frown passing across her face. "There's nothing I'd like better than to give you an unqualified yes, but . . ."

He followed her gaze across the room. Phillip and Carrie were standing side by side at the makeshift roulette table, talking animatedly, while Joe stood to a little apart, watching with an unusually somber expression. "Playing chaperone all night isn't the answer, you know," he stated flatly.

He felt her tense beside him. "I just want this weekend to be nice for Phillip," she stated plaintively. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

Rubbing his finger idly across the back of her hand, he glanced at the King trio once more. "No, of course not. But whatever's going on with them, they're gonna have to sort out on their own." He looked down into his wife's soft brown eyes and shook his head sadly. "You can't fix everything, Amanda, no matter how much you want to."

"That's not fair," she protested, quickly withdrawing her hand. "I'm not trying to . . ."

His lips curved up in a smile. "Oh?"

She let out a deep sigh, ruefully biting her bottom lip. "Well, all right, maybe I am, but I'm a mother. It's what we do."

Putting an arm around her, he pulled her against him. "Okay, in the interest of détente here, I'll concede that point. Of course," he added with a dimpled grin, "you'll need to make a concession of your own."

Tilting her head, she looked him squarely in the eye. "Oh, yeah, Stetson? What would that be?"

He moved his fingers tantalizingly along her waist as he gave her a little squeeze. "Even mothers take a night off now and then."

"We-ell," she drew out the word, grinning as her tension dissolved. "Since you put it that way . . . Let's go say goodnight to Phillip."

"Anything you say, Mrs. Stetson," he agreed pleasantly, quickly guiding her through the crowd. "Anything you say."

TBC…