"Petite lapine?" Tessa asked opening the door to Rylan's room. "You have it all put together. It looks great," she commented looking around the spacious room.

Rylan looked up from where she was hanging pictures on the wall. "Almost all put together," she corrected. "I'll have it done by tomorrow."

"You'll have to finish it tomorrow," Tessa told her. "You have school in the morning and it's nearly eleven thirty. You need to go to bed."

Rylan looked at her clock. "Oh, dang it is. Sorry." She abandoned her project and walked to her bed.

"It's quite alright. But you need to go to bed now."

"I'm as good as asleep," Rylan assured her crawling under the covers.

"So, do you like you're bed?" Tessa asked going over to tuck her in. Tessa had decided that both Richie and Rylan needed something better than store bought furniture and had designed and built both of their bedroom suites.

"I love it, Tessa. I saw the designs, but this is so much cooler than what I pictured."

"Good. I aim to please."

Rylan grinned. "You did."

"Although, I still think this room is entirely too purple. And orange would not be my first pick for the accent color."

"That's why its my room and not yours," Rylan reminded her.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot." Tessa leaned down and kissed Rylan's forehead. "Good night, Petite lapine."

"Night, Tessa."

Rylan rolled onto her side and stared out the window once Tessa left. So maybe her room was very purple, but this was her first room that she didn't have to share, so she was going to make it her own. And the furniture Tessa designed just made it that much cooler. Everything had been designed just for her. Her chest of drawers was tall and shaped a bit like a genie bottle. She had painted it purple to match her walls then added an Indian Hindi design in orange. Her shelves were orange and curved in waves along one wall. And her computer desk (for the computer Duncan had gotten her to keep her off the one at the store) was painted to match her chest of drawers. But perhaps her favorite piece was her new bed. It was king sized and built on a platform so she actually had to climb to get into it. The base looked like the platform had been balanced on four large purple balls. Rylan had almost half expected it to roll the first time she crawled onto it.

. . . . . .

Tessa made her way down the stairs to the basement and found Richie standing on a ladder installing some track lighting that she assumed was going to light the "stage" he had set up.

"Well, looks like everybody is obsessed with getting everything set up," she commented.

Richie looked down at her. "Yeah, well, no sense in leaving everything half done."

"I just came to remind you that you have the store on your own tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know," Richie said climbing down the ladder. "You got that thing at the museum and Mac's doing something or another here."

"Just checking."

"You always do."

"Well, since you obviously don't need me. Good night," she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "See you in the morning."

"Night, Tess."

. . . . . .

"Yes, sir," Richie said into the phone in his best businessman voice. "We shipped it out yesterday. It should be there by the end of the week at the latest. Yes, I have it right in front of me. Okay, thank you." He hung up and went back to arranging the goblets in the lighted glass case. After a couple of minutes he heard the door open. He looked up. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for someone," the woman said looking around the store. Richie waited for her to clarify whom, although he assumed it was Duncan. Everyone was always looking for Duncan. And she looked familiar; maybe she was one of Tessa's friends that he'd seen a picture of.

"You know," he said after a minute. "If you give me a name, I might be able to help you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman blushed. "I'm looking for Rylan Fisher. This is the address I have for her."

"You're looking for Ry? Are you, like, a social worker or something?"

"No. Is she here?"

"No, she's in school right now. Is there something I could help you with?" Richie offered at a loss for what to do.

"When will she be back?"

"Not for a couple days probably. We just moved. We don't live here anymore."

"Oh. Do you know how I can reach her?"

"Yes," Richie answered. "But, look, no offence lady, but I don't even know who you are so, I'm not telling you anything. I'm sure whatever agency you
work for will have our new address soon. You can come by then."

"I don't work for an agency. My name's Julie Kregson, I'm her mother."

Richie froze. No wonder the lady looked familiar, she looked like Rylan. "Oh," he finally said. "Uh, okay. She might be here Saturday, I don't know though."

"Can't you give me your phone number?" Julie asked.

"No offence, Mrs. Kregson, but I don't really think it's my place to do that," Richie stammered. 'Shouldn't her name be Fisher?' he thought. "But like I said. She might be here Saturday. Unless you want to give me your number. I can give it to her tonight."

Julie shook her head. "She wouldn't call me. I was hoping to catch her at home. I'll come by Saturday."

"Okay, but I'm really not sure if she'll be here. With exams next week and everything, she might not be working."

"I'll take my chances," Julie said turning to leave.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you get our address?" Richie asked.

"She was in the emergency room a couple months ago with a sprained ankle. I looked it up in her file."

"Oh." Richie thought this over. Rylan hadn't said anything about seeing her mom that weekend. "I was just curious."

"That's quite alright.uh, what's your name?"

"Oh, right, sorry. I'm Richie Ryan," he offered his hand.

"Well, Richie I'm glad Rylan has someone like you looking out for her. Even if I wish you would offer up some information."

"Sorry, but like I said; it's not my place."

"I understand. I'll be back by on Saturday."

. . . . . .

Richie was making dinner when Rylan came home from "studying" at a friend's house.

"Hey," she greeted coming into the kitchen. "What'cha making?"

"Pork steaks."

"Smells better than it sounds," she said with a grin getting a soda out of the refrigerator.

"You'll like 'em. Hey, why didn't you tell me about your mom?"

Rylan quirked a brow. "I've told you about my mom."

"You didn't tell me her last name was different, or that you saw her when you went to the hospital when you hurt you ankle."

"How do you know about that?"

"She came by the store looking for you today. We talked a little."

"You talked to my mom? What did she want?"

"She didn't say." Richie flipped the steaks. "I guess she just wanted to talk to you."

"Did you tell her that I don't want to talk to her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't know what you wanted. For all I know things have changed between you and you guys are okay now."

"So what did you do?" Rylan put her soda down and stared intently at him.

"I didn't give her our address or number or anything. I told her you might be at the store Saturday but I wasn't sure. I figured that way it was up to you. Since you don't have to be there you don't have to see her, but if you want to you can study in the loft until she gets there."

"I don't want to see her," Rylan told him. "Next time she comes by, you tell her that. You know how I feel about her. If anything I hate her more now. Her name wasn't always different from mine, she got married a couple years back."

"Oh. Ry, I didn't know. I'll tell her Saturday. But I think you should be the one to tell her."