A/N: Another hot, fresh chapter delivered straight to your door! ON TIME!

Summary: Lacey attempts to work through her father's death with Adam's help as she accepts the Banks' invitation to go to San Francisco. Will she be able to overcome her difficult emotions enough to have a good time and learn more about Adam's family?

The San Fran chapters were a lot of fun for me to write, second only to the lake house chapters of the last book. They provide a fair amount of comic relief, and we see some interesting dynamics!

Btw, I researched this stuff heavily. Every place you read about is an actual place in San Francisco. Now, was it around in 1998? Who knows. It would take me all year to go into that much detail, so I'm treating the places I find now as though they existed back then, too.

/*/*/

"Feel what you need to feel and then let it go. Do not let it consume you." - Dhiman

Lacey numbly listened as the doorbell rang and her mom jumped up to get it. She and a man exchanged brief, low words before the door was closed and Mom carried a small box back into the room, holding it with both hands and taking a moment to stare down at it before handing it over to her.

She knew what this was before her mom had to say it.

Mom sat down next to her silently, allowing Lacey time to process what she was holding. Finally, her mom spoke in a low, measured tone.

"You know, I can put those up until you know what you want to do with them."

"What do I do?" Lacey's voice was thick in her throat and she sounded drunk from crying.

"Well, you can scatter them somewhere...you can put them in an urn to keep…or you can dispose of them. It's up to you, Hon."

Lacey swallowed the lump that never seemed to leave her throat in the week since she'd received the news about her father.

"Do you know," she began, hoarsely. "He wanted to buy me a Mountain Dew. He had change set aside for it and everything. But I blew it off. He wanted to tell me the things he remembered about me as a baby, but I told him not to bother."

"Lacey…"

"He just wanted to talk. He didn't expect me to forgive him, or treat him like he was special to me, you know? He just wanted to tell me a little about who he was and how sorry he was that he'd done what he did. But I gave him maybe fifteen minutes, then told him I wasn't going to listen to any more. And that's how I talked to my father. That was what I left him with before he died."

Mom just wisely sat still and let her talk.

"He did an awful thing. Probably a lot of awful things when he was on drugs, but then he became a different person. And he died trying to do the right thing."

Lacey felt that where she was when she was told the news would always be burned in her memory. She and the twins–fresh from Ariel's church's summer camp–were highly entertained by a favorite video on MTV, The Backstreet Boys' mock-horror movie music video for "Backstreet's Back." Her mom came in midway through and shooed out the disappointed girls in a firmer than usual tone.

"What, Mom?" Lacey had clicked off the TV, annoyed with her mom's unfounded attitude.

But as her mother came closer, she could see that her eyes were shiny with emotion. "Lacey, your dad…he was killed last night at dinner."

At first it had taken her a moment to register "dad," and her mind brought to mind a mixed-up picture of both Doug Primmer and Stuart. But she knew her mom wasn't talking about Stuart…

"Dad? Like…?"

That's when the disbelief set in, replaced by devastation when her mom followed the news by telling Lacey what had happened. Apparently Doug had been sitting nearby during dinner at the prison when a new inmate simply turned to the guy next to him and asked if he was going to finish his meatloaf. The older inmate, for no apparent reason, whipped out a knife he had fashioned from window glass and duct tape and stabbed the unsuspecting inmate twice, in the stomach and chest, before Doug jumped up to intervene and defend the wounded man. In return, the knife was plunged into her dad's temple. He died within minutes.

Alone and probably gurgling blood. Lacey's fevered brain had been working for days to fill in the horrific details, causing her to have pulled about two solid handfuls from the underside of her hair.

"I never even got a picture of him just…just to keep."

"I have some," Mom jumped in. "I've held onto them in case you wanted them someday. Say the word and they're yours."

"How can you be so calm?" Lacey suddenly threw an accusatory look toward her mom, who she wasn't really angry at. But she felt she needed to be angry at somebody, and the man who had done this wasn't around.

"Because, Lacey, I grieved your dad a long time ago. He's been lost to me for years," her mom spoke candidly, but gentler than usual. "It took awhile at first, because we had all these shared experiences and I guess he was my 'first love' as they say. But when he did what he did to you, that was it. Any kind thoughts I had left in my head for the man just disappeared. So of course I'm sorry he died the way he did, and sure, he probably did change. A lot of people who are locked up do. But this doesn't have a hold on me the way it does you. And for good reason. I mean, he was your dad. Good memories or bad, that tie was there."

And so, for the rest of the week, her mom had been more attentive, urging her, alongside Stuart, to at least eat in between her desire to stay in bed most of the time.

Lacey was aware how this must look to most people, even Kristy and Adam. She hadn't really even known the man. But something about this still hurt like wildfire. She hadn't been able to go to work or socialize, but the people in her life had done so much to try to help. Alice had shown up one day asking if she could sit and pray with her, and despite Lacey's feelings about God, she had let her. Alice left her with a beautiful little figurine of a cat. Connie and Julie brought her takeout from Sandals & Salsa, her favorite taco stand, and offered to watch Pretty Woman with her. Kristy had come one day and just sat beside her quietly, bringing a book to read while she simply offered her company, which meant so much. And her sweet Adam had come bearing Stella for her to pet and a bouquet of yellow roses. He had snuggled up to her in bed awhile before urging her to get dressed and come out to The Daily Grind with him. But she just couldn't.

After a few days passed, Lacey knew she had to get up. She couldn't mourn forever. If her dad had figuratively pulled himself up and straightened his clothes, going on to do the best he could with his life despite the sorrow of his past, she could too. And part of her felt his presence–which she'd only known for a few minutes back in April–urging her on.

Today had been the day his ashes were delivered, she being his only surviving next-of-kin. It felt odd to Lacey to think she was holding the entirety of him in her hands, boxed up like a package from a catalog company or something. She already knew she didn't want an urn to keep him in. That felt morbid to her. And she would never just throw him away. So the most likely option was for her to scatter them somewhere. But where?

She would talk to Adam about it. He always provided her clarity.

"How about you bring them to San Francisco and scatter them in the Pacific?," he suggested. "I mean, it's kind of freeing when you think about it. My parents and Travis don't have to know what you're doing, it's none of their business. And I can either go with you, or you can do it by yourself."

San Francisco. Right. How she wished now she hadn't agreed to go.

Of course she'd always wanted to visit. Of course she wanted to be with Adam, especially on his birthday. But leaving to go on a joy trip right now just felt somehow wrong.

"Lacey, Honey, time to snap out of it. And I say it because I love you," her mom replied when Lacey mentioned her reticence to go on vacation with Adam's family. "I mean, take all the time you need to deal with it, sure. But deal with it while you're going on with your life. Come on, do you think your dad would have wanted this?"

Stuart, likewise, encouraged her. "Tis a once in a lifetime experience, Lass. Ye'll surely regret it if ye back oot noo."

So a Friday evening in the middle of August found her packing the best she knew how with a scattered brain. She tried to pack a mix of casual clothes and nice things, wishing now she hadn't loaned out her nice white dress to Kristy for a church outing this week. Part of her felt more than a little nervous about spending so much time with the wealthy family who probably knew enough etiquette to completely blow her out of the water. But she'd do the best she could, and if nothing else went right for her, Adam would be there. She would easily go anywhere to be with him.

At nine o'clock the night before the trip, however, she realized she didn't have a swimsuit, and Adam had mentioned taking her to the beach–her first time ever going. So nine thirty saw her and Halen combing through the leftover, discounted swimsuits at Walmart. Oddly enough, though, Lacey found a baby blue two-piece that was perfect. It had scalloped edges, and seemed modest enough to wear in front of Adam's parents. She hoped she could carry it off, because a one-piece somehow felt too prudish.

The next morning, she was picked up promptly at 7:00 a.m. by a khaki shorts-wearing Phil–an odd sight–and an ever cheerful Yvette. And, of course, Adam, looking dapper as always. He carried her suitcases and bags out as she walked with her hand slipped around his arm. She felt the need, in her grief, to touch him continually. But he didn't seem to mind, and held her hand all throughout the airplane process, particularly as he knew how nervous she was about flying for the first time.

"Okay. It's all good, you're fine," he brought his other hand over to rub hers as the plane took off from the ground, the oddest feeling Lacey had ever felt in her life. Being lifted up, pressed back against her chair, caused her heart to race for a moment, but she soon rallied, and when the plane was in the air, she eagerly opened her window shade to look out.

"Oh my gosh!" She beamed. "Look at the clouds! It's like this dream I had one time when I was a kid that I flew up to the sky and danced on them. I mean, it looks exactly like I could do that."

Adam chuckled. "If you could try it, I'm pretty sure you would be disappointed while you were falling through the air."
"Hush. Let me have my fantasies."

Air travel was at once fascinating and terrifying. They hadn't been in the air that long before they experienced a series of jerky movements that caused Lacey to immediately look at Adam with alarm.

"Turbulence," he explained quickly. "It's not dangerous. We're just, like, pushing back against some wind currents."

The sensation was much like that of trying to push a hand back against the air jetting out of an automatic blow dryer in a public bathroom. However, that didn't exactly result in the spilled drinks the turbulence had just now caused a couple of rows up.

"It's okay, it happens," Adam continued to reassure her.

Yvette's head popped up behind them. "Anyone want me to order them a drink?," she asked in a perky voice, clearly trying to offset Lacey's negative emotions.

"Oh…," Lacey paused, surprised. It would be a cold day in the hot place before her mom would ever offer such a thing.

"I think we're good, Mom," Adam replied. "Thanks."

Lacey could hear Phil's voice behind her as he reprimanded his wife for her offer.

"Well you know how I feel about this, Phil. I'd rather them not go behind my back to experiment with alcohol. And besides, we're hardly talking about two fifteen-year-olds here," Yvette defended in a low tone.

"But why even put the suggestion there? Do they need a screwdriver to take the edge off from a couple of wind currents?" Phil argued back.

"No! I just thought if they…"

But Yvette's voice was drowned out by the pilot's voice which had come over the loudspeaker to remind the passengers that all was well and for nobody to panic. He even managed to make some kind of joke, but Lacey was still too amused at the Phil/Yvette personality juxtaposition to pay much attention. This should be an interesting week.

And anyway, how lucky was she to be baptized into flying first class? The seats were all cream-colored, leather comfort, the attendants all smiling and beautiful. She discreetly pulled out her disposable then, snapping various pictures until she realized Adam was staring at her, mystified.

"What could you possibly find in a plane cabin to waste your film on? There's not a celebrity on here or anything this time…"

"'This time'?! Who have you flown first class with before?!" Lacey tilted her head.

Adam shrugged. "I don't know, I mean various people. They have to fly too, you know, except the ones who have a private jet. And in first class, you see them sometimes. Mom saw Sandra Bullock when she was last flying Chicago to L.A."

"That's the flight your brother's on, right?" Lacey slipped her camera back into her bag.

"Yup. And just know ahead of time, Gretchen's a snob. She talks to one person: Travis. And even only half the time to him," Adam informed her. "Don't take it personally. I know Mom does sometimes, and we weren't thrilled she was coming, but," he gave a little shrug. "They're pretty serious, so if they get married, we'll have to deal with her all the time. Better for us to get practice now."

But Lacey wasn't really worried about Gretchen. In the wake of her father's death, nothing seemed able to pierce the veil of gloom in her heart–good or bad. So if Gretchen snubbed her, oh well. She sincerely hoped being in a new, fresh place would draw off some of the heartache, but it was far too soon to tell.

The flight was four and a half hours, but didn't seem quite so long thanks to in-flight movies and the novelty of being on a plane. Every little thing fascinated Lacey.

"Hey," she whispered to Adam at one point. "So when you've finally flown on an airplane is when you get to say you've joined the mile high club, right?"

Adam just looked at her, face blooming red.

"What? I've always heard that term. Isn't this what it means? What else makes sense?" Lacey protested.

"It…um…doesn't mean flying on a plane, it means–"

"Having sex on a plane, Babe." An attractive male attendant winked at her as he handed her a glass tumbler of Coke with a straw. "You should try it sometime."

Lacey's mouth dropped open. "...O-Oh." She quickly brought the straw to her lips to busy herself.

"Thank you," Adam took his own drink, still rosy-cheeked. It was unclear whether he was thanking the guy for the drink or for finishing the explanation.

She took a sip before giggling nervously. "Oh wow. You mean people do that? That bathroom doesn't seem very big…"

But she needed to stop torturing Adam. He looked like he might pass out from bashfulness. It was absolutely adorable, though, and she brought out her camera again, snapping a picture of him just as he turned his eyes back to her.

"There's one for the books!"

/*/*/

Adam was right.

Gretchen was beautiful, possessed the hippest, most colorful, post-modern clothes Lacey had ever seen, and had visibly toned arms and legs. It would have been hard not to hate her anyway, but after issuing a cursory smile to the family when they first met up with her and Travis at the airport, the young woman went silent. And it didn't feel like a pleasant silence, either. It was more of a cold, aloof silence that conveyed, "If I ignore you long enough, you'll just go away."

Lacey did feel slightly sorry for Adam that he had been forced to cram into a taxi alongside the other pair of lovebirds on the ride from the airport. Phil had paid two taxis to transport the six of them to his buddy's rental home (free to the Bankses) in an affluent neighborhood called Haight-Ashbury, and she had been herded into the cab by Yvette before she even had the chance to ask which she should ride in. She and Adam's mom were riding up against Phil, who didn't say much, predictably, as she was filled in by Yvette about the house they would be staying in.

"Are you familiar with Queen Anne Tower Houses?"

"Not really. Is that what we're going to be staying in?" Lacey hoped she didn't look too dumb. She already felt like an idiot for asking the Mile High Club question, which Yvette either hadn't heard or was kindly pretending not to.

"It is! It's in a quirky little historic part of town, and it's adorable. They're three levels, and I'm thinking you and Adam can stay on the upper level with Phil and I. Gretchen and Travis will have the downstairs room. I truthfully don't know what he'll have to say about that, but it doesn't matter. I'm Mom and I make the rules," she winked.

But Lacey was still hung up on her and Adam being placed in the same room. Not that she wanted it any other way, but something about his parents' assumption that she and Adam might be sleeping together–and all that implied–made her blush, particularly with Phil in the backseat with them. However, she tried to keep her face a mask. After all, did it really matter? She reminded herself that Adam was about to be nineteen in a matter of days.

"And we have the best time planned. Travis was in charge of planning all the evening meals, so of course that's a bit of a wild card, but I can imagine he won't get too adventurous, what with having Gretchen with him," Yvette went on as Lacey stared out the window.

Warm, sunny California goodness painted everything, including Lacey's darkened heart, with a bright golden hue that was such a welcome change she wasn't sure she could ever wipe the smile off her face. There were palm trees here, lots of people walking on sidewalks with what looked to Lacey like a bounce in their step that couldn't be found in the colder climate she was from, and the row houses–each raised a little from the other as they turned and drove up several little streets–were the cutest homes she'd seen. This was going to be great. She was glad her parents had talked her into coming.

When the taxis pulled up in front of the house they would be staying in, Lacey's eyes flew open as wide as they could get.

The house was tall and narrow, as most others she'd passed had been, and painted a light sage green color with white trim. There was a turret on the right side that accommodated big bay windows, and the staircase in front carried one from the lower level to the main level. It was beautiful, and looked to be the perfect size for what they would need.

It took awhile for all of them to unload the cars with all of their luggage, and even longer to get it into the house. When Lacey finally stepped over the threshold, she was greeted by the smell of citrus and the sight of crisp white walls. The foyer and a big living room were both furnished with clean, simple modern furniture, and from where she stood, Lacey could see the dining room at the other end of the floor, past the kitchen.

"But I thought we could be upstairs where Gretchen can see out the bay windows," Travis was arguing already with Yvette over their sleeping arrangements.

"The downstairs is very nice," Yvette tried to placate him. "And I wanted Lacey to be upstairs so she can get a good view of the city. She hasn't been here before, Honey."

Travis and Gretchen exchanged looks, but Adam glanced at Lacey and gave a small smirk out of sight of the others, and reached down to take her suitcase to haul upstairs.

The second floor was just as beautiful as the other one had been. Phil and Yvette headed for the master bedroom, which Lacey could see past them was almost as big as her whole house. It even had a bar in it.

"We're down the hall," Adam nudged her, and she noticed he seemed to delight in taking her suitcase into the same room as his. He wasted no time in showing her around the large, bright space, pointing everything out. The family had clearly been here plenty of times. "The bathroom's right there through that door. And I know we don't have the bay windows, but it's still nice. Look, you can see downtown," he opened the curtains so she could look outside.

"It's pretty," Lacey agreed, setting her suitcase on the King-sized bed to unpack. Had she ever slept on a King-sized bed before? Adam's bed was even just a Queen. But something was nagging at her, and finally she realized what it was.

She had slept with Adam after the game the night of the playoffs, and accidentally in her bed while they were watching TV. But formally, she hadn't. And what if…

"Adam?"

"Yeah?" He turned around from placing his nicely folded things in drawers.

"Sometimes…not often, but occasionally…I have night terrors. And it causes me to pull. So I just…feel like I should tell you."

"It's okay," he responded lightly, coming over to slip his arms around her waist. "I'll wake you if you do. I'm a pretty light sleeper. And if you do have them, it's fine. Don't start worrying about it, all right?" He kissed her nose. "I'm just glad to have time with you just to myself, even if it's only at night. Because I gotta warn you, my parents tend to have every second of our vacations planned out. Even if it is my birthday, their agenda will hijack it," he chuckled.

"It's all good," she shrugged. "I honestly want to see as much of this place as you guys will show me, but I agree. Time alone at night will be nice." She rested her cheek against his chest.

Adam then whispered against her ear, "Did you bring your dad's ashes?"

Lacey nodded. "I have the bag they were sent in in my suitcase. And you're sure you don't feel creeped out by them being in here?"

"Nah, not really," he answered. "I mean, I guess it's because Mom kept Grandma Molly's ashes for years before scattering them, so I don't think much about that stuff anymore. But if you find a good place at any point while we're out, just let me know later and I'll figure out a way to get you back there alone so you can have privacy to let them go."

They were interrupted then by a loud knock that caused Lacey to jump. But before either of them could inquire who it was, Travis walked in, holding something behind his back.

"Couldn't wait for one of us to tell you to come in, huh?" Adam narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, this is important. Lacey, mind if I talk to my little brother for just a sec?" Travis turned to her.

"Um…yeah. I'll just be out here," Lacey stepped over to the door, flashing Adam a discreet perplexed look before closing the door.

Oh, but she was going to listen. She had to. Lacey pressed her ear to the door, feeling mildly guilty.

"So these are the best I've found. They're thick enough not to break, but thin enough for you to, you know, have the best experience," she heard Travis say, and felt her face grow red. She suddenly knew what he had to be talking about, and what he was holding when he went into the room.

"Okay, thanks for the tip, but I'm not talking to you about this, Travis."

"I'm looking out for you. Here. Just squirrel them away with your stuff. You might not even need them right now, but trust me, if not now, very soon. Gretchen can even feel the tension between you two."

"It's not like that yet. We're taking our time, okay?," she heard Adam protest.

"Ha. Keep telling yourself that, but one week sleeping together in this room? You ain't gonna make it. Seriously. And when the moment's right, I want you to be prepared," Travis reasoned. "So you really haven't done it before?"

Lacey could hear the ire rising in Adam's voice before he replied, "No, Travis, I haven't. But I will when I'm ready, and when she is. I'm giving her all the time she needs. She's got a lot going on, and I think the right timing's important. And since I love her like hell, I'm good with that."

Travis whistled. "All right then. Well, here's the box. Hide 'em, and pull one out whenever appropriate."

It sounded like Travis was coming to the door, so Lacey quietly tiptoed down the hall, pretending she was studying the pictures on the wall. Her heart was swollen with affection for Adam and gratitude for how protective he was of her feelings about intimacy. But the conversation she'd just heard caused butterflies to hatch in her stomach.

"Okay, he's all yours," Travis announced cheerfully as he came outside and passed her on his way back downstairs.

"Thanks." Lacey waited until he was out of sight before venturing back into the bedroom. Adam turned back to her quickly after, she supposed, hiding the condoms somewhere.

"You guys seem to be getting along pretty well so far," she remarked nonchalantly.

"Well, I don't know about that, but it's whatever." Adam cleared his throat. "So tonight we're going to this restaurant my dad likes, and I just want to prepare you because I don't want you to feel intimidated. It's really nice."

"Like, how nice? How much is this going to cost? And before you say anything, you know how I feel about you paying for me too much."

"Oh no, Dad's treating all of us. It's his thing, so don't worry about it. It isn't like ordering at a normal restaurant. Dad pays for this one big package, and we have a bunch of courses from whatever menu the chef has at the time. It's kind of hard to explain, but you'll see."

"So you can't split something with me?"

"Not really, I mean because it doesn't work that way. But even if I could? Absolutely not," Adam didn't hesitate. "I like this place, and I want my own plate as full as I can get it."

Lacey laughed. "Fair enough."

To say the restaurant Phil had chosen was an upscale place, however, was the understatement of the decade. Atelier Crenn was unbelievably more like a food museum than a typical restaurant. Phil ordered what the chef called a "movable feast" where lots of courses in bite-sized portions were brought out in succession, all presented in a creative way. Lacey was passed some sort of decadent lemon cream puff (with a fancy name she couldn't remember, of course) shaped like a swan, the dish giving the ambiance of a pond, and the chef had created an elaborate woodsy scene with a mushroom dish. These were, of course, only two things she actually remembered later. It all moved so quickly, each course brought out on the heels of the other by kitchen staff who functioned like a well-oiled machine. If it hadn't seemed so strange to take pictures of food, Lacey wanted nothing more than to snap photograph after photograph to show her sisters when she got home.

Given everyone's focus on the culinary presentation, not much conversation took place that wasn't related to the food in front of them. Therefore, it took Lacey by surprise when Gretchen of all people commented, "That's a gorgeous dress."

All eyes were on Lacey for a moment as she blushed, glancing down at it. "Thank you. I love it, too." The reply felt only fitting, as this dress wasn't hers. Her glance bounced off Yvette, who flashed a wink before looking back at her plate.

The truth was, she'd almost worn a floral jumper covering a standard black tshirt tonight, and thought she looked nice. This definitely would have worked to go to a place like Olive Garden back home. So Lacey was deeply embarrassed, not to mention a tad resentful, when she had been on her way downstairs hours earlier, purse already on her shoulder, when she heard Adam's mom's voice calling to her.

"Lacey, can you come here just a minute, Love?"

Lacey had turned, not at all expecting the words that were about to be spoken.

"Come in here," Yvette had smiled, and she had complied. Yvette herself wore a blousy red dress that was sewn to look like a wraparound, falling just below her knee with a slightly ruffled hemline. Lacey had never seen the woman look so elegant before, this being in sharp contrast to her usual hippie artist style. Her long golden brown locks were twisted perfectly into a chignon pinned by a jeweled comb, and her nails, obviously done by a professional, were a flawless candy apple red.

"You look beautiful!" Lacey breathed, stepping into the huge, beautiful master bedroom suite the Banks parents were occupying.

"Thank you! Now Lacey, I hope that when I say this you won't feel slighted, but I think maybe it might be better if…" Yvette had begun, then changed directions. "...let me rather say, you might be more comfortable if you wore something a little different tonight."

Ouch. That one hammered Lacey right in the gut. She didn't look good enough to go to a restaurant?

She was speechless for a moment, feeling betrayed. Yvette had never commented on her clothes before. Lacey had always considered her wardrobe to be cute and in-style, if secondhand maybe, but that's all that had ever mattered in high school.

Quite suddenly, Lacey's eyes watered a bit. Was she really about to cry over a dress?

"I'm sorry, I don't have anything else," she finally blurted out, having intended to sound slightly miffed, but the words came out punctuated by a hot, falling tear, so she probably just sounded pathetic instead.

"Oh, Lacey, no. Don't cry! Here." Yvette quickly handed over a tissue from the ivory holder on an end table. Then she hugged her. "I didn't mean to upset you. You always look absolutely stunning every time I see you, you know that? It's just that this isn't your everyday place, and I wanted to be sure to prepare you. Have you ever heard of certain restaurants having dress codes?"

Lacey shook her head, blowing her nose and dismayed at the honking sound she made while doing it.

"This restaurant calls for something called 'casual elegant.' I don't know if you've seen them yet, but the guys are all wearing sportcoats. It basically means, not formal like prom, but not casual either. So they say casual elegant. What you're wearing is lovely. It makes your eyes pop. But I think I might have a dress with me that would be a little closer to the casual elegant mark. Would you like to see it?"

Lacey could only nod again, not trusting herself to speak yet because she may let out another sob.

"Here." Yvette took her hand affectionately, leading her over to the closet she already had her things hanging in. "Now your waist is tinier than mine, it goes without saying. To be eighteen again! But this one…" she reached out and fingered a short, satin navy dress with a gather at the waist held in place by a silver brooch of sorts. It had a princess neckline, but otherwise seemed simple–and decidedly sophisticated.

"Here, try it on. If you like it and it fits, you can have it. What about that? It can be a graduation gift, even if it's a little late. And don't sweat what people will think, because I have worn this dress maybe only twice, if that. We'll keep this safely between us, okay?"

"A-Are you sure?" Lacey sniffled, preparing to try on the dress as Yvette stepped out of the closet.

"Quite sure. And please save this jumper. It's still very pretty, and you'll need it for another restaurant, I promise. Tonight is just something a little different, is all. What do you think?"

The dress actually fit Lacey quite well, despite it being a size larger than she'd normally wear–Yvette wore a six in women's, Lacey a five in juniors–and she had to smile at herself in the mirror in spite of everything.

"You really don't mind? I don't think I have the right shoes."

But Yvette, of course, did. So in the end, Lacey had come down the stairs looking dazzling in her borrowed navy dress and kitten heels, and everyone stared as though they didn't know what hit them.

"Is th–" Phil began, but Lacey saw Yvette sharply jab him with her elbow.

And thus, Lacey thought, she really owed Yvette all her compliments.

It was a beautiful, warm evening, and after they were finished dining at Atelier Crenn, Lacey wanted to do something else. So she talked Adam into going on a walk with her around the neighborhood at nearly ten o'clock. Adam was so used to getting up to train early in the morning that he didn't typically stay up very late at night, but he accompanied her without a complaint. He probably knew how eager she was to see everything in San Francisco, whether dark or not.

That night, she felt safe tucked in his arms when the thoughts of her father returned. It was always this way. She could sufficiently forget her pain during the day when she was kept busy and distracted from it, but as she lay awake at night when everyone else was sleeping, the thoughts would, one by one, come calling like unwelcome house guests, each carrying its own grim mental image or accusation to unpack.

You should have just given him a chance.

He was a broken man in the end. And when he took you, he was just high–not malicious. Why couldn't you forgive him?

I bet he was thinking of you when he lay there dying. His only child couldn't do anything but hate him.

"Stop!" Lacey, in a half dream state, sat up suddenly and shouted.

"Lacey, it's okay." Adam rousted quickly as though springloaded to respond if the situation arose.

"This whole thing is my fault!" She knew the words were irrational the minute she cried them out, but they were entirely how she felt.

"No it isn't. You know that. Here, have some water," he reached over to retrieve his own glass from the nightstand as though water could chase nightmarish thoughts away.

"I need to go walk," she ignored the water and stood up.

"You shouldn't go out walking, it's the middle of the night, close to the heart of the city," he replied calmly. "Here, let's turn on TV. Maybe we'll catch some lively infomercials."

She knew he was trying to distract her with humor, but she just wasn't feeling it.

"Would it help if you dig out the little book of prayers Alice bought you last month?" He tried again. "I know you're not really into praying, but they might be comforting to read."

"I just can't," Lacey tried not to snap, angry not at Adam, but at the entire situation. It seemed her dad couldn't even give her peace in his death.

"You know," he repositioned into a side prop, "I wonder if it would have helped you deal with this any better if he'd at least had some kind of funeral. Just calling to tell you he's dead, then mailing ashes to you is hardly enough of a gesture. A really wise, beautiful girl once told me something."

"What?" Lacey asked absently, going over to stare blankly out the window.

"That a person has to grieve a loss. But during mine, I at least had picture albums and people I could call up to talk about the good old days. You don't have any of that, so I think you need to find an alternative. I mean yeah, we're scattering his ashes here, but…" Adam trailed off. "Sorry, I'm not good at being Dr. Hemby."

"You know what's crazy?" Lacey mused. "I spent my life being so afraid of him. Yet now, all I really want to do is find him. Like, just in order to get to know the person he was. Mom says his own mom was a drunk, and his parents split up when he was about fourteen, which she thinks is why he turned to drugs so hard. But wouldn't it be interesting to find his dad, learn a little about my family? Or, I don't know, just…just something…"

It took awhile, but Adam finally coaxed her back into bed, and they lay and talked for two hours. Some about her dad, some about hockey, alot about college. Lacey felt herself becoming a tiny bit jealous hearing Adam talk about what life would be like living in a dorm–even though he was, of course, moving into a private room–and attending special events that popped up throughout the year. Lacey also imagined him meeting new people, going to parties, and maybe even joining a fraternity. Was she sure they could do this? What if one day he came home, and told her his interest now lay elsewhere?

But Lacey forced herself to shake it off. She was being nothing but negative tonight. After the talking finally slowed down, and Adam's eyelids grew heavy, she curled onto her side facing him. As she watched him fall asleep, her forehead nearly touching his, she reminded herself of Bing Crosby's song and Aunt Rachel's talk. Despite her sorrow over her dad and her fear of losing Adam, she must focus on what was going right in order to survive. Adam was with her now. She was going to press past what happened to her dad, even if it took months, because she was strong. And she was going to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime trip to the city she'd always wanted to see.

With that, Lacey left behind the bad stuff–at least for tonight–and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.