"So, what do you think?" Laura asked as she stepped out of her dressing room. She and her daughter both stared at one another and then laughed together. They both were wearing the same skirt. It was short, simulated leather.
"It looks great on you," they both said at the same time. They laughed again.
Laura stared at the mirror and sighed. "It looks better on you. My legs are getting as old as the rest of me."
"You have great legs, ma'am," the salesclerk told her. She sounded sincere.
"Thank you, Barbara," Laura said with a grateful smile on her lips.
Sydney walked up to stand beside her. "Tina Turner's older than you and they insured her legs for a million bucks."
"I don't have Tina Turner's legs," Laura answered with a grin.
"No, I think yours are nicer," her daughter replied. "I wish I had inherited your legs."
After Laura had arranged for Jack to collide into her outside the Library of Congress, he had immediately started helping to pick up her scattered papers. His hand had accidentally rubbed across her leg, and she had watched the cool, confident man become a blushing schoolboy. She had felt contempt for his weakness.
"I was an idiot," she whispered.
"What?" Sydney stared at her in the mirror.
She shook her head. "I was thinking when I first met your father. I was idiot. It took me years to appreciate what I had."
Sydney laid her head over on her shoulders. "You always loved him."
Laura thought about those early days, about how much she had laughed from honest joy, how much she had enjoyed being with the man she had been assigned to spy on. "Yeah, I did. It just took a long time to realize it," she whispered.
"Come on," she said, straightening her back and gently pulling away from Sydney. "Let's go get a late lunch. These heels are killing my feet."
Sydney smiled and nodded. "And I want you to look over my paper."
Laura grinned. "You're in luck. Even after all these years, I still carry about a red ink pen."
***
Her mother looked up from her paper with a frown on her face. "Your professor cut you more slack than I would have. I would have given you an F."
"Mom--"
"Don't 'Mom' me," Laura said as she picked up the porcelain coffee cup. "I know you are capable of far better work than this." She started scribbling notes on the paper.
"He said it didn't have any soul."
Laura looked at her and frowned. "It doesn't."
Sydney grinned. "I feel like I'm in high school again."
Her mother reached across the table and patted her hand. "Remind me to give you my copy of the book when you drop me off."
"I have a copy--"
"You have an electronic version of it," Laura replied. She took another sip of her coffee and smiled when the waiter arrived to freshen her cup. "Which is great for searching or for reading when you are traveling. But I think you have to hold a book in order to be able to connect to its soul."
"I've written plenty of papers with soul and never put a hand on a physical book," Sydney replied with a grin.
Laura smiled. "They might have some soul, but I bet they would have had more if you had a hardback copy of it in your hands."
***
She looked up from the laptop and smiled at her friend as he walked in through the door. "Hey, Will."
"Hey," he answered, rubbing her arm.
"Hey," Sydney replied back.
He knew exactly what she was doing; he had seen her work on enough of papers over the years. "What's the paper on?"
"It's a redo. Professor said is didn't have any soul, so I'm writing a paper with soul. It's got lots of soul!" She laughed. "I didn't have any choice but to put some soul into it after Mom ripped it to shreds."
Will winced. "Oh, yeah. If you take a paper to Laura Bristow, you take it to be murdered. Of course, it's a far better paper than you ever wrote by the time she's done with it."
Sydney nodded as he picked up the book beside her. He read the inscription inside. Sydney had stared at it for five minutes when she had opened the book. "'Laura, all my love forever and a day, Jack.'" Will sighed. "Sounds just like your dad. He adores your mother."
Sydney's fingers slowed down on the keyboard. He had adored Laura, and sometimes Sydney thought he still did, but nothing was clear anymore. She reminded herself that it wasn't her concern, that her father could and would handle it himself. And her mother had made her own choices. She told herself that, but she still worried like the daughter she was.
"I got your message," Will said, putting down the book. "You're going on another trip? That's, like, what's that? Seven this month? The bank ever going to let up?"
He went to the refrigerator and helped himself to something to drink. Sydney thought about what her mother had said earlier. She thought about her phone call to Jack and his response. Will's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "What's up?"
Sydney wished she could tell him. Really tell him. Share her worries with someone. Then, she thought about Danny. The desire to tell the truth left her. "There's this situation at work. Just some money is missing from petty cash, and it looks like there might be a formal inquiry."
"They don't suspect you, do they?" Will believed in her, trusted her completely. Sometimes it hurt.
"No," Sydney answered, lying. "But it looks like they're going to give us all lie detector tests, which is just--"
"Can I make a suggestion, just for, like the eight millionth time?" Sydney knew what the suggestion was going to be before he said it; Will had made the suggestion eight million times before. So had Danny and Francie. "Why don't you just quit your job? I mean, you can get a job anywhere. I don't know, I just--I just think it's weird."
"I know," Sydney sighed. She thought about Danny making the same suggestion just after he proposed. She started playing with the ring he had given her that day. She saw Will looking at her, looking at it. "I still wear this."
"I know," he whispered.
The phone rang before he could say anything else. "Joey's Pizza," said the unfamiliar voice on the other side. Now that she was not living at home, the CIA had devised a new way of letting her know when to meet with Vaughn. Jack no longer had to act like go-between. She had been expecting this call; Vaughn had to show her how to defeat the test.
"Wrong number," she answered as she hung up. She looked over at her friend. "What are you doing here?"
"I just, uh, came by to say hi," he answered, and for a moment she thought he was lying to her.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," he said back.
***
Laura sighed. She had finally realized how to kill the story. She hated to do it to Will, but he needed to learn to document everything anyway. She was counting on the fact that he hadn't; if he had, she wouldn't be able to save him from Sloane and Security Section. "Seth," she called as she walked over to the man's desk. "Can you get in touch with my contact at the airlines? I need to put a back trace on a passenger manifest. I'll be in my office."
Seth nodded and started dialing before she even started to walk away from him. She liked efficiency.
***
Jack sighed as he read Sydney's report. She had narrowly missed death again. If the clock maker had not stood at that exact moment--
"Are you okay, Jack?" Vaughn was leaning against his office door. Almost everyone was gone from the building.
"I'm fine," he answered. He looked down at the folder in front of him again and felt his stomach turn. He decided he didn't care why Vaughn had decided not to be a field agent; he was just glad he hadn't. He wouldn't be able to handle reading these types of reports for him and Sydney both.
Vaughn walked on into the office, shutting the door behind him. "It was supposed to be a simple assignment."
"She made sure to be prepared, just in case. It saved her life," Jack said. A hook in her backpack had saved her life. "She's good."
"Really good," Vaughn agreed. "She's happy that she managed to get away from Anna."
Jack grinned, thinking about an old rival who was long dead. "Sometimes it just becomes personal. The other man is out to get you and only you, or at least it feels that way."
Vaughn stared at him for a moment and then looked away. "I mentioned the Calder file to her, told her that I had asked you about it."
Jack stiffened. He looked over at his minibar and then reminded himself that he was in control. He was the one in charge of himself, but if he kept drinking like a fish to hide from the pain, he wouldn't be the one in charge for long. The bottle would be. He had seen too many of his colleagues fall under its spell.
"She didn't tell me that you told her about it," Vaughn said, finally looking back at him. His hands were crossed in front of him. "But I know you did. I know her, and she was lying to me to protect you. Why would tell her what you wouldn't tell me? Why was that part of your file even missing?"
Vaughn bit his lip and looked down. "It's something to do with my dad, isn't it? The time frame's right."
Jack opened his mouth. Vaughn shook his head and help up his hand. He stood and started pacing. "I don't want to know. Not right now. You don't need me to be pissed off at you."
"I don't need you to be wondering either," Jack sighed. "Sit, Michael. There's something I need to tell you."
***
Sydney flopped down on the couch and sighed. "Ahh, yeah . . . ."
Francie walked into the room. "Hey, welcome back."
Sydney lifted her legs so her friend could sit down on the couch, then she lowered them again. "Thanks."
"Okay, so the good news is, I went by your professor's office to drop off the paper, but he wasn't in. So, the secretary wanted me to leave it with her, only remember sophomore year?" Francie had never forgiven that secretary. "So, I waited around and handed it to him personally."
Sydney smiled. It was good to have friends you could depend on. "Thank you, Francie. Was there bad news?"
Francie sighed. "Yeah. I was making lemonade, and I spilled it all over your mom's book. I called her and told her about it--"
"She told you not to worry about it. Don't," Sydney said. "Mom's always believed that books were meant to be read--everywhere and anywhere. The pages should be stained with life, she used to tell me."
Francie grinned. "I like your mom."
"I like her, too," Sydney said. Their girls' day out had been long overdue. Sydney thought about arranging another one soon.
"Thanks for turning in the paper," she told her friend.
Francie smiled. "You're welcome."