The key turned in the door to the apartment and Greenlee pushed her way inside. She removed her scarf and hung it on a chair. She began to unbutton her jacket as she walked further inside.

"Jake!" she called. "Are you home yet?" There was no answer as she went from room to room looking. "Jake!" He wasn't there, but that didn't surprise her. She was just hoping that he might be home.

Greenlee walked over to the sofa and took a seat. She threw her feet up, crossing them at the ankles, and reached over for a folder, which contained papers that she had brought home to work on from the office. Hitting it with her fingers, Greenlee knocked the papers to the floor.

"I just can't win today," Greenlee said as she bent down to pick them up. As she grabbed the papers and started to sit erect, Greenlee glanced at the table. Her eye caught a glimpse of a prescription paper, and her curiosity getting the best of her, she took hold of it.

"What's this?" Greenlee asked, reading the header. "Dr. Alan Morgan," Greenlee thought, remembering the phone call Jake had received the other day from Oak Haven. "Why would Jake have David's number? He hates David. Everyone...hates David." Greenlee paused and then again began to think aloud. "David Hayward...Doctor...Oak Haven..." She shook her head, trying to think of a logical connection between David and Jake. That was useless though. Nothing about the past few days had been logical. Why would she be able to make sense of it now?

As Greenlee grew more and more curious, she knew that she had to find out what was going on. Maybe David Hayward was the person who would be able to give her the answers she was looking for. She stood once again, grabbing her coat and heading towards the door. Greenlee swung it inward.

"Jake," she said, in shock, seeing him standing in front of her.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked her.

"No," she lied. "No. You're home early." Jake walked into the apartment and Greenlee followed him. "Jake?"

Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he turned to face her. "I think you should sit down," he said. "We need to talk."



"No, we're going to need to sit on that story for now," Brooke said over the phone as she sat in her office at Tempo Magazine. "Run the first piece instead... Yeah, that one..." the door opened and Tad stuck his head in. Brooke motioned for him to enter. "And how do you feel about the advertising?.. That's perfect...Edmund, you're a life saver...Bye."

"Having problems with the next issue?" Tad asked her, placing a styrofoam take-out container on the desk in front of her.

"It's like this all the time," she said. "But this Holiday issue just isn't falling together the way it should. We have advertisers pulling out, stories falling through."

"Sounds like a mess." Brooke raised her eyebrows at him. "I got you mushu pork. Light on the mushu, heavy on the pork."

"Thanks," she said as Tad pulled out his container and a small ziploc bag.

"Cookie?" he asked, extending the bag to her. Brooke shook her head. "Suit yourself." He reached his hand into the bag and took a bite of one of the cookies. "Are you sure?" he asked her again, his mouth full. He swallowed. "I make a mean chocolate chip. Could help you feel better if you're having a rough day."

"This isn't a bad day, Tad," Brooke said. "The magazine is behind schedule, I'm the only one here, Edmund has the flu..." Tad stood and began to walk back towards the door, but stopped and returned to his chair. "What?" Brooke asked.

"It just can't get worse than this," Tad said.

Brooke thought for a moment. "Oh, Tad," she said. "I didn't even think. here I am, talking about my problems. I didn't even realize what you might be feeling with Christmas and Dixie..."

"This has nothing to do with Dixie," Tad said. "I can't do this anymore," he said to himself. "I need to tell you something, Brooke."