(Chapter 36.  The beach house, a fine restaurant in LA, somewhere else--it's a surprise!  August 23, 2033.)

Maribeth sighed happily and leaned back in her chair enjoying the sun and the ocean breeze, her thoughts of the previous day making it impossible to wipe the smile from her face.  It had been a lovely day, only surpassed by the evening that had followed.  Steve had obviously spent a lot of time planning everything, so she simply couldn't be upset with him for letting her believe he had forgotten their thirtieth wedding anniversary. 

The surprises had started early.  Steve had left before dawn, ostensibly to go fishing with his dad.  She had no idea where he'd been all day, but people began showing up periodically from about ten o'clock on.  First, it was breakfast, though not in bed.  Instead, she had been awakened by the smell of warm blueberry muffins and hot coffee.  Curious to see who might be cooking since her husband and father-in-law had already left and her son had moved back to Brentwood weeks ago to mind Emily's house for her, hoping desperately that she wouldn't kick him out when she returned, Maribeth slipped into her comfortable old housecoat and stumbled out to the kitchen.

"Oh, Mrs. Sloan, good morning."

"Agnes?"  Maribeth was rather shocked to find her neighbor's cook and housekeeper in the kitchen buttering toast.

"Mr. Sloan told me you would be getting up about now.  Come sit and have your breakfast."

"Agnes?"

"Your egg is almost ready, ma'am, and the muffins will be done soon.  Would you prefer orange or cranberry juice?"

"Agnes?"  Maribeth had yet to move from doorway.

"Ma'am?"  Agnes couldn't hide her smile.  Former Deputy Chief Sloan was a lovely man, and his wife was one of the nicest women in the neighborhood, and it delighted Agnes no end to help with this little anniversary surprise.

"Agnes, what are you doing here?"

"Mr. Sloan asked me to tell you that he didn't forget what today was.  He has engaged my services for the day to take care of all of the ordinary tasks so that you can relax and enjoy the surprises that come your way.  He will see you this evening."

"Oh."

"Ma'am?"

"Agnes?"

"Would you prefer orange juice or cranberry juice?"

After fetching the morning paper and serving Maribeth a breakfast of a boiled egg, toast, and a warm, buttered blueberry muffin as big as her fist, all of it with abundant coffee, Agnes had gone off to draw a bath.  At first, Maribeth was uncomfortable with the idea of having a stranger poking about in her bathroom, but when she slipped into a hot bath full of rose-scented bubbles scattered with actual rose petals, she decided she could get used to having a housekeeper.  Just as she was getting relaxed in the warm water, there was a knock at the bathroom door.  Not wanting to get out of the tub yet, and deciding there were more than enough of the lush, foamy bubbles to protect her modesty, Maribeth called out, "Come in."

Agnes entered, and in a most businesslike fashion said, "Your robe is hanging on the back of the door, and I have placed your clothes on the foot of the bed.  Your next surprise will be here in about an hour, but there is no need to rush.  Enjoy your bath."

"Thank you, Agnes.  I will."

As she soaked in the tub, Maribeth wondered what her next surprise would be.  A hairdresser to give her a makeover?  A manicure?  A massage?  She frowned.  Knowing Steve, he had hired someone to come in and shampoo the carpets.  Her frown deepened.  She knew she was being unfair.  Her husband had given her some wonderfully romantic gifts in the past, and he had only made the occasional blunder.  Whatever it was, she would love it because he had given it to her with love.

When the water had cooled, she drained the tub and rinsed herself under the shower.  Then she dried off and took down the robe Agnes had left for her.

"This is new," she said to herself.  The robe was a marine blue silk kimono with the image of a crane standing among some reeds at the water's edge embroidered on the back.  The fabric was incredibly soft against her skin, almost as if it wasn't there.  When she went out to the bedroom, she found a pair of silk pajamas with short pants in another shade of blue that beautifully complimented the robe.  Agnes had made the bed and cleaned the room while she was bathing, and everything had a restful, soothing sense of order about it.

She had just slipped the robe back on over her pajamas when the doorbell rang.  As she opened the bedroom door to step out into the hall and go answer the door, she heard Agnes' voice saying, "You can just come straight through and set up in the living room. Mrs. Sloan is probably almost done with her bath by now."

Maribeth couldn't help but feel a little disappointed as she slipped back into the bedroom.  He really did hire someone to clean the carpets.  I shouldn't have nagged so much!

There was a rap at the bedroom door, then, and when she told Agnes to come in, the woman stepped in and said, "Ma'am, if you would come to the living room, your next surprise is ready."

"Thank you, Agnes," Maribeth said.  "I will be there in a minute."

"Yes, ma'am.  I will let the gentleman and young ladies know you will be right along."

As she listened to the sounds of equipment being set up, Maribeth toweled her hair dry and combed it, and then slipped on a pair of silk slippers she had found at the foot of the bed, obviously dyed to match her pajamas.  Heading out to the living room, she stuck a smile on her face, determined to be as happy about clean carpets as she would have been about a diamond necklace and earrings.

When she finally came into the living room, Maribeth was astounded to find that a sheet of heavy duty plastic had been put down to protect the carpets.  On top of the plastic sat a salon chair, hair dryer, portable sink, manicurist's table, and a foot spa in place of her normal living room furniture, which had all been pushed to the walls.  There were also a young man and two young women waiting for her, all of them wearing the distinctive jade green smocks of the exclusive Beaux Cheveux et Peau Mobile Salon and Day Spa.  She must have stood staring for a full minute before one of the young women approached her, and taking her gently by the arm, led her to the chair, saying, "My name is Amy.  My colleagues are Paul and Aileen.  Happy anniversary."

For the next two hours, as Agnes busied herself around the house, Maribeth was spoiled like a rising young starlet on a movie set.  While Amy and Aileen gave her a manicure and a pedicure, Paul worked on her face and hair.  First, he waxed her eyebrows.  Maribeth was initially a little leery, because she knew waxing could be quite painful, but Paul reassured her, explaining that, "Beaux Cheveux et Peau has developed an exclusive wax formula that includes a topical anesthetic.  You won't feel a thing."

"Yeah.  That's what I used to tell my patients, too," she said doubtfully, but to her surprise, he was right. 

After taking care of her eyebrows, Paul covered her with a salon cape and then smeared a peachy smelling masque over her face and neck.  It had a heady fragrance, like a summer orchard, and Maribeth began to quickly relax.  Paul tipped the chair back and washed her hair with a tropical scented shampoo that produced enormous amounts of thick lather.  The gentle massaging sensation made her just about dissolve into a puddle of very mellow goo.  While Paul was working, Maribeth could feel the masque on her face drying and tightening.  It was a pleasant, relaxing sensation.  Who are you kidding, Mar, the masque is the smallest thing.  You are being spoiled rotten and loving every minute of it!

As Paul rinsed the shampoo from her hair, he also washed the masque from her face, being careful not to drown her as he did so.  Then he wrapped a towel around her hair and sat her up so he could dry it.  Finally draping the towel around her shoulders, he looked at her reflection in the mirror and said, "All right, Mrs. Sloan, your husband has told me he wants your hair left long, but put up for the evening.  Other than that, I have no instructions.  What should I do with your hair?"

Eyes widening, Maribeth said, "Oh, goodness, I don't know."  She really did know just what she wanted to do, but she didn't know if she was brave enough to try it.  Though Steve had dyed his hair for years until she had convinced him that he would be a silver fox if he just let it go gray, he had never wanted her to change the color of her blonde tresses.  Now, though, her blonde was going dull, and her hair had no luster or shine to it anymore.  "W-would you color it?"

Paul smiled charmingly.  "If you want me to."

"I-I don't know."

"Have you ever colored your hair before, Mrs. Sloan?"

"No, never.  When I was younger, my husband told me he wanted me to stay blonde, and as I got older, I guess . . . I just wasn't brave enough to try anything different."

Paul nodded, "Ok, how about this.  You let me try something, and if you don't like it, we can dye it back to the color it is now.  How does that sound?"

"You can dye it back?"

"Oh, sure.  No problem.  With the hair colors we have now, you could have a new shade every day if you wanted to."

"O-Ok, then.  Sure.  Go ahead," Maribeth said, feeling bolder with every word.

"And for the cut, I think long layers would be nice.  It will be less hair, so it will dry quicker, but it will still be just as long, and you can style it different ways."

Maribeth nodded.  "Sounds good." 

Then, to her dismay, Paul pushed the mirror away from in front of her, letting her see the ocean through the windows, and said, "Relax and enjoy the view, Mrs. Sloan, and let me surprise you."

As Paul did her hair, Amy and Aileen painted her toes, gave her long, manicured nails, and waxed her legs up to the hem of the short pants of her pajamas.  By one o'clock, she was feeling like a very nervous glamour girl, waiting for Paul to give her permission to look at herself in the mirror.

"All right, Mrs. Sloan, you can open your eyes."

For a moment, Maribeth just stared.  Then she smiled.  Then, much to her embarrassment, she giggled like a schoolgirl.  She was still blonde, but what a blonde!  The shades and highlights in her hair ran from pure, spun gold to honey blonde to new oak.  Her curls, for thanks to Paul's efforts, her hair was very curly, were piled high on her head and they seemed to absorb the light, enhance it, and shine it back out.

"Oh, my," she gasped.  "Paul, thank you.  I look . . . I look just beautiful.  And ladies, the nails, my hands and feet.  Oh, my."

"Mrs. Sloan," Paul flattered her, "you were just beautiful when we came in here.  The magic only works on beautiful people.  For all the rest," he shrugged, "it's just cosmetic."

Maribeth blushed and giggled again, and as the three young beauticians began to pack up, Agnes came in to say, "Lunch is served, ma'am."

Not knowing what else to do, Maribeth followed the housekeeper out to the dining room.  As she sat down to the first course, a crisp Caesar salad, she suddenly realized she had forgotten something.  As she started to rise, Agnes looked at her and asked, "Is there something wrong, ma'am?"

"A tip, Agnes.  I forgot to tip them."

Agnes smiled.  "Not to worry, ma'am.  Mr. Sloan has already seen to that.  He left me the money and instructions to take care of all your visitors today."

"All?"

"Yes, ma'am.  There is a makeup artist coming at two, and a clothing designer and seamstress at three."

"You can't be serious."  To say Maribeth was shocked was an understatement.  She had never imagined her husband would dream up something so elaborate and yet there was more to come.  And so much pampering.  Hey, I could get used to it.  She smiled, and sat back down to enjoy her salad.  There was no telling how long this would last, so she might as well relax and enjoy the ride.

By six thirty, Maribeth had been fitted for a new wardrobe, to be delivered later that week, and the makeup artist had helped her select a cosmetic palette that complemented her new hair color and clothes.  To her surprise and now genuine delight, the carpet cleaners had come at four, a whole crew of them, and had cleaned all the rugs in the house, saving the bedroom for last, so that she and the designer and seamstress could work undisturbed.

As Agnes was leaving, she told Maribeth, "The car will be here for you at seven, Mrs. Sloan."

"Car?"

"Yes, ma'am.  To take you to your husband."

"Oh."

So, for half an hour, Maribeth had waited, feeling as nervous as a schoolgirl about to go on her first real date.  She smiled, wondering if that was just the effect her husband had hoped for when he had chosen the little black dress the seamstress had fitted her for.  She was wearing it now, with a black lace wrap, and my, what a little black dress it was!  Sleeveless, with a plunging v-neck and a short skirt, it had glittery black beaded embroidery all around the neck and in a fancy pattern that worked its way up from the hem.  The cut and design of the dress slimmed her hips and enhanced her waist, and the bra the designer had given her to wear under it gave her lift and cleavage like she hadn't had since before Steven was born.  She could only guess that Steve had told the designer what her main complaints were about her figure and asked the woman to help him pick something that would minimize those problem areas.  The black satin bag and shoes she wore had the same embroidery as the dress, and someone from New Heirlooms had delivered a pair of gold heart earrings and a gold bracelet of little interconnected hearts, with a small diamond at the point of each heart.  She was disappointed that there was no necklace to complete the set, but then she felt ashamed for feeling let down about a necklace when she had already been spoiled all day long.

She was just posing in front of the cheval mirror in the bedroom, giggling at herself and feeling like she was seventeen again, when there was a knock at the door.  When she answered it, she found a chauffeur standing there in snappy gray uniform.

"Mrs. Sloan?"

"Yes, that's me," she said, wide-eyed and peeking around him for a look at the shiny black limousine waiting in her driveway.

"May I escort you to the car, ma'am?"

"Oh, yes, yes, just a minute."  She slipped back the hall and got Steve's anniversary present and dropped it into her little black bag.

Steve had spent the day with his dad.  First, they had gone to a men's wear boutique that belonged to one of Mark's former patients.  Steve had gotten a good deal on an expensive designer suit and shoes, the sort of thing he would never buy for himself except for the fact that he wanted to impress his wife.  Then they had gone to the gym just to kill a few hours.  After a workout, an hour in the steam room, and a massage, they had gone to the barber, and Steve had even let Paula convince him to let her use a color enhancer on his hair to give his gray more depth and highlights.  Actually, it hadn't taken much convincing.  After all the times he had colored his hair himself, he wasn't afraid or ashamed of a little hair dye.  He just couldn't allow her the satisfaction of giving in right away. 

He and Mark went to Barbecue Bob's for lunch, and to Steve's delight, Lauren had noticed something different about him but hadn't been able to pin it down to his hair.  After lunch, they had gone to New Heirlooms to see the jewelry set he had commissioned for Maribeth.  With Steve's approval and Mark's proclamation that it was 'just about perfect' the bracelet and earrings were sent off to the house.

They went down the street to a nearby flower shop, and arranged to have thirty red roses with baby's breath and ferns delivered later that evening, and then they caught up with Jesse as his shift at the hospital ended and went to catch the matinee showing of the thirty-fifth anniversary edition of Jack Blood: Action Fist at the multiplex.  Mark had gone with Jesse, then, and he would catch a ride to his own house after they were sure Maribeth was gone.  Steve had headed back to the clothing store to put on his suit.  From there, he drove to the restaurant to meet Maribeth.

As Steve stood waiting for his wife, he couldn't help but grow nervous.  What if the hairdresser had screwed up?  What if she hadn't liked the dress?  What if the carpet cleaners were running late?  It had happened before.  He found himself amazed at how many limousines there were in LA, and it seemed that night every one of them was coming to L'Orangerie.  Each time one would pull up, his heart would leap into his throat, and when he realized it wasn't Maribeth, it would fall back down into his stomach.  It's a good thing you aren't still having trouble with ulcers.  Funny how that just went away about a week after the trial.  Finally, he recognized the chauffer he had hired for Maribeth, and as the young man helped her out of the car, he stepped forward and took her hand.

The limo pulled up outside L'Orangerie at seven thirty, and Maribeth couldn't help but gasp at the sight of her husband when the driver helped her out and gave her hand to him.  He was looking as handsome as she had ever seen him in a midnight blue silk suit with a white shirt and a dark blue silk tie with pinpoints of lighter blue.  His silver hair was shining like she had never seen it do before, and from her own experience earlier in the day, she knew it had been dyed, but decided not to say anything.

"Good evening, Mrs. Sloan," Steve said sounding rather nervous, "You look quite stunning this evening.  I trust you had a pleasant day."

Chuckling at the formality and blushing at the flattery, Maribeth responded in kind, "Thank you, Mr. Sloan, my day was wonderful.  My husband chose this dress for me, and I just adore it."

"The man has good taste."

"The man has excellent taste," she replied, still smiling as she saw the relief flooding over her husband's expression, "in jewelry as well as in clothes."  She held up her wrist so he could see the bracelet he had sent her.  "And he knows just what I like."

Steve duly admired the bracelet, and said, "Yes, it is a lovely piece.  Shall we go see if our table is ready?"

Maribeth just laughed and nodded and walked into the restaurant with him.  L'Orangerie was an elegant, expensive place, and they had only ever eaten there once before, five years ago on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.  While they could have afforded to dine there somewhat more often, it was not a pleasure to be taken for granted, and they had agreed then that they would only go back for something very special.

After she was seated at the intimate little table on the open-roofed patio, Maribeth leaned forward and said, "Steve, that suit is just perfect for you, and today, oh, today, everything was perfect.  I could never have asked for a better present in my life.  You have made me feel beautiful and sexy, spoiled, treasured, and cherished.  And dinner here?  I'm not complaining, but why so much?"

Steve smiled.  "Thank you," he said, "and you're welcome.  I'm glad you enjoyed it."  He fingered the lapel of his suit.  "I thought you'd like this color.  As for the rest, you'll find out later."

Maribeth gave a puzzled frown and opened her bag to get her reading glasses, but much to her surprise when the waiter came over to them, rather than handing her a menu, he placed l'oeuf au caviar petrossian in front of her.  Then he opened the wine and poured it for Steve to taste.  At his nod of approval, the waiter served them both and moved smoothly away.

As Maribeth savored her caviar, she watched her husband, only to realize that he was just watching her.  She could feel herself blush from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, touched to her soul by the love she saw in his eyes.  He'd been retired for a month and a half, now, and after a brief period of adjustment, they had enjoyed being almost constant companions.  Tonight though, she felt like everything was brand new.  She smiled to herself, hoping her gift to him would please him as much as he had delighted her.

After the dishes from their first course were whisked away, they sat and talked a bit about inconsequential things, and Maribeth was surprised at how readily her husband laughed.  She hadn't seen him so relaxed and happy in years.  The waiter returned a few minutes later bringing her a zucchini flower stuffed with baby vegetables, asparagus, and salad, and for Steve, he brought rock lobster and vegetables seasoned with just a hint of ginger.

As the waiter left, she asked, "Did you order my whole meal ahead for me?"

Steve shrugged and said, "Well, yeah, after thirty years I should know what you like."

"Well," Maribeth began rather icily, "let me just tell you," unable to hide her smile and tease him any longer, she said, "you've done a great job so far."  This time, she got to watch Steve blush.

The roses arrived just as the third course was served.  Thirty enormous red blooms with dark red petals edged in a velvety black.  With the ferns and baby's breath, the bouquet was too large for the table, and they had to borrow a spare collapsible serving tray from one of the waiters to hold it.  Not for the first time that day, Maribeth considered the expense he had gone to for their anniversary.  She knew they could afford it, but still, the extravagance was shocking. 

"Are these for me?" she asked, still a bit surprised that dinner wasn't the highlight of the evening.

Steve deadpanned, "No," and at her confused look, he said, "they're for thirty years of making me the happiest man alive."

Maribeth smiled coyly and asked, "All of them?"

"Every one."  He pointed to a rose.  "This one is for our wedding day.  This one, for the day you made me a father.  This is for when I found you safe and sound after the big quake, and this, for when we danced the night away at Amanda and Ron's wedding."

Between bites of turbot and vegetables, Maribeth would periodically lean over and smell the roses.  They were as fragrant as they were beautiful, and she couldn't bear to let them sit for long without enjoying them.  As he worked his way through his beef tenderloin and potato soufflé, Steve pointed out each rose for her, sometimes even turning the crystal vase so she could see a particular flower better, and for each bloom, he named a special moment they had shared during their marriage.  She wasn't sure, but she thought he'd managed to pick something from each of their thirty years together.

As they waited for dessert to arrive, Maribeth looked at her handsome husband and said, "Darling, everything has been so perfect today.  I have always known you were a romantic at heart, but this has all been amazing.  Thank you."

Steve smiled and said, "You're welcome, Mar, but it's not over yet."

As she opened her mouth to ask what more he could possibly have in store, a plate of crème brûlée was placed in front of her.  With an impossibly smug grin, Steve said, "Eat your dessert."  When his chocolate and banana tart with rum ice cream was placed in front of him, he said, "Oh, that looks good," and began eating without another word.

Knowing there was nothing she could do to make him tell her before he was ready, Maribeth shrugged and turned to her dessert.  In years past, she used to accuse him of being sadistic in such situations, but she had eventually learned that pleading for hints and complaining about being made to wait only prolonged the waiting.  At the thought of the small gift in her purse, she knew that at least this time, she would be able to get even.

As their dessert plates were taken away, petits fours and coffee were served.  For a while, they sat in silence, enjoying the company and the final course of their meal.  Then Steve swallowed down the last of his coffee and sighed.  Standing up, he came around the table and stood behind her.

"Close your eyes," he said.

She did, and sat up a little straighter and wriggled in her seat in anticipation.  She felt a fine chain against her neck, the weight of a pendant on her breast, and she felt her husband's hands fumbling with the delicate clasp.  Finally, it was fastened.  She felt Steve move from behind her, and then she felt his presence at her side.

"May I open my eyes now?"

"Not yet.  I want you to listen to me a moment, and I want to be sure you hear everything I say."

"O-ok."

She heard him sigh, and then she felt him pull his chair over and sit down beside her.  "The night we met, I'd been a cop more than twenty years.  I could have retired over thirty years ago, but I loved my job.  I didn't know how to be anything other than a cop, Mar."

As Steve spoke, Maribeth could hear the emotion in his voice.  There were so many feelings there that he was holding back.  She was sure he had missed going into the precinct every day since he'd retired, but he'd never once complained and he'd never seemed anything less than happy to spend his days with her.  She tried to say something, but his fingertips touched her lips to hush her, and, not knowing another way to show him how she felt, she kissed them.

After a moment, Steve began talking again.  "I could do all of the husband and father things, most of the time, but I know I made some real mistakes, too, Mar.  I didn't know how to just be a husband and father.  For thirty years, the police department was my life, and you and Steven were just a very wonderful part of my life, but over the past few months, I have found that I had it all backwards."

Maribeth opened her eyes.  She needed to look at him while he made this confession.  She needed him to see that she understood, and that he had nothing to apologize for.  He smiled at her, and continued.

"I know there were times when it would have been easier to leave than it was to stay, and I know, every time I was hurt, you hurt, too.  You've waited thirty years for this, for me to put you first.  I never did anything to deserve that kind of love or patience, but you have lavished it on me anyway.  I promise you Mar, for the next thirty years or however long life grants us, I will always put you first.  I will make you my life.

"This," he tapped the pendant at the end of her chain, and she caught his hand and held it while he spoke, "is to remind me of that promise, and to remind you of how grateful I am that you have waited all this time for me to get my priorities straight."

Steve smiled at her, a bit hopefully, and she smiled back.  Then she looked down to see a heart shaped locket, etched to match her earrings and bracelet, with flowering vines around the outside edge of the heart and a diamond set at the point.  On the pendant, though, was also etched, in remarkable detail, the image of Steve's police badge, right down to his rank and badge number.  In an arc over the badge were the words Thanks for waiting for me.

"Oh, Steve, it's wonderful."

He smiled again, relieved.  "Open it."

The same flowering vines were etched on the inside of the heart, and on the left side were the words This is where my heart has always belonged.  On the right, facing the inscription was a picture of herself and Steve with their son on the deck of the beach house.  It was her favorite photograph, taken the day they brought their new baby home from the hospital.

For several moments, she was too choked up to speak, and even when she finally knew what she wanted to say, she found she couldn't look her husband in the eye and talk to him without crying.  So, she closed her eyes, closed the locket and held it over her heart, and said, "Forget about the housekeeper.  Forget about breakfast, and the salon service, and the clothes, the jewelry, and the carpets.  Forget the car and dinner.  What I feel in here," she tapped her chest, "right now, with you, was worth the wait."

As she finished speaking, she opened her eyes and looked at her husband.  The love she saw shining in his eyes told her the feeling was mutual.  Steve kissed her tenderly, and then said softly, "Let's get out of here, go someplace more private."

She nodded, he signaled the waiter and paid the bill, and they left.

As the chauffeur held out his hand to help Maribeth into the limousine, Steve saw her lean forward and whisper something to the young man, who smiled and nodded approvingly.  Once she was settled, Steve handed the roses in to her and climbed in beside her.

They rode for a little while, laughing and talking, and after a few minutes, Steve realized that the car was headed in a direction completely different from that which he had instructed. Looking at his wife, he asked her, "Madame, have you hijacked my limousine?"

Maribeth smiled and joked with him, "Indeed, I have, sir."

After a thoughtful pause, Steve asked her, "And do you intend to ravish me when we get to our destination?"

Maribeth nodded, "Indeed, I do, sir."

Steve frowned for a moment and then smiled.  "Good."

Steve opened the small refrigerator that was in the limousine and took out two chilled glasses and a bottle of champagne.  He carefully opened the bottle so that it wouldn't spray all over the interior of the car, and poured them each a glassful.  As they sipped and flirted and kissed, he gradually realized that they were headed in the direction of Marina del Rey.  He knew there were several charter companies that offered moonlight cruises, and he smiled to think that Maribeth had booked one for them.  It was a splendid evening, and if it were a private cruise, he and his wife could continue their celebration on the aft deck, in a balmy ocean breeze, with no interference from the crew.

As the limo turned down Fiji Way to the Boatyard Marina and pulled to a stop, he smiled.  "So, I guess you have chartered us a cruise," he said.

"No, I haven't," she replied.

"Then what are we doing here?" he asked, puzzled.

As the limousine driver took her hand to help her out of the car, she told him laughingly, "I guess you'll just have to follow me and find out.  And you can tip the driver now.  We won't be needing his services any more this evening."

Steve sat dumbfounded for a moment, then he thrust Maribeth's bouquet into the driver's arms, scrambled out of the car, tipped the young man, took the flowers back, and hurried after her.  They reached the gate to the marina together, and she relieved him of the roses and said, "Your entrance code is 082303."

"Our wedding day."

She smiled.  "I'm glad you remembered."

He punched in the numbers and held the gate for her.

"Come along," she said as if she were leading a grade school tour of the marina, "Slip seventy two is this way."

When they reached the slip, she handed him the flowers for a moment, fished about in her bag, and took out a small set of keys.  Taking back the flowers, she handed him the keys and said, "Happy anniversary, darling."

For a moment, Steve thought she had rented a boat for another trip.  They'd had so much fun sailing to Catalina in July, that it was a perfectly natural assumption.  Then a thought occurred to him.

He had wanted a boat for years.  When his dad had a dying patient give him a lottery ticket for thirteen million dollars, he had lobbied long and hard to spend a portion of that money on a boat.  Again, when his dad had a patient leave him a boat in his will, Steve had felt the itch to take up sailing, but he had never bought a boat while he was single.  When he married Maribeth, anytime she caught him even entertaining the idea of finally making the purchase, she would put her foot down.  She insisted that it would just be one more thing he would never have the time to properly enjoy, that maintaining it would become a chore, and that the responsibility for paying all the associated bills and keeping the insurance, registration, and slip rental up to date would fall to her.  In retrospect, Maribeth was right, but in the present moment, he couldn't suppress the nervous little flutter of hope in his stomach.

"Mar?"

"It's yours," she said, unable to suppress a giggle.

"Mine."

"Well, ours, I guess, if you'll let me come aboard, Skipper."

"Oh, Mar.  I . . . I don't know what to say."

"'Thank you' would be a nice start, maybe followed by, 'Let's check her out.'"

"Ok . . . Thank you.  Let's check her out."

She wasn't a very big boat, just thirty-eight feet, but she was perfect for a weekend cruise with friends or an extended trip just for Steve and Maribeth.  It could sleep six, had an inflatable dingy, and a swim ladder.  There was hot and cold pressure water, lots of stowage, a television, with DVD player and surround sound, a head, and a shower with hot and cold fresh water.  The galley was a marvel in itself with double stainless steel sinks, a microwave, a two-burner propane stove with an oven, a food processor, a toaster oven, a refrigerator and freezer, a built-in trash can, and cooking pans and utensils.  The seats were upholstered in leather, the woodwork was cherry, and the counter tops in the galley were marble.  There was even a wet bar, and Maribeth had had the foresight to bring some of their clothes aboard earlier so they could spend the night.

"You like?" Maribeth asked hopefully.

"Oh, Mar, it's amazing," Steve gasped, still in awe.  "Thank you.  Why now?"

"Excuse me?"

"For thirty years, you have refused to let me even consider buying a boat.  Now this.  Why?"

Maribeth chose her words carefully.  "I always thought that owning a boat would be more trouble than it was worth.  It's a lot of work to maintain one, and we were both so busy with our jobs, our lives, and our family.  It didn't seem worth it.  But after our trip to Catalina, Steve, I had the most wonderful time, just the two of us, rocking on the waves, sailing under the stars . . . "

"Skinny dipping . . ." Steve supplied nuzzling close to her.

"That, too," she giggled and stepped away.  "I still think I was right to oppose it while we were working . . ."  Steve didn't say anything, but to her surprise, he made some sounds of reluctant agreement.  ". . . but now, we can sail off any time we want.  Back at the restaurant, you told me you wanted to spend the next thirty or more years putting me first.  I want to do that, too, for you, and I know you have always wanted a boat.  I guess it's sort of a gesture, to show you how much I love you and how happy I am that I waited until we could have this time to spend together.  I hope I've made you happy."

"You've made me very happy."

She smiled, relieved.  "Good.  So, what are you going to name her?"

"Name her?" Steve queried.

"Yes, you've got to name her, she's a boat."  Maribeth opened the refrigerator and said, "Look, she even comes with a bottle of champagne so you can christen her."

Steve thought for a minute, and then, in a whispery voice said, "How about . . .Make My Day?"

Maribeth eyed him coolly for a minute and then said, "That is a bad Eastwood impersonation, and a very bad name for a boat.  It challenges people, and the whole point of this is to be able to go out on the ocean and relax whenever we want."

"Then you think of something better."

"Ok . . . " she paced the main cabin a bit, then, finding the quarters too close to allow her room to think, she went up on deck.  She walked to the aft end of the boat and stood there, watching the moonlight on the water for a while.  Steve stood behind her, one hand grasping the rail on either side of her.  He kissed her neck, behind her ear, her cheek.  Then she turned to him, and he kissed her passionately on the lips.  When they broke apart for air, she said, "How about, Making Memories?"

Steve appeared thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Not bad."  Then a slow grin spread across his face.  "We've been married thirty years now, and since we're making a fresh start, putting each other at the center of our lives, and planning for at least another thirty years more, how about Memories of Tomorrow?"

"Mmmm, I like that," Maribeth said and she kissed him this time, lingering with her lips pressed to his as she slowly backed him toward one of the lounge chairs on the aft deck.  They settled on the chair, still lost in the taste of each other, and after a few long moments, she broke the kiss long enough to say, "Let's start making some of those memories now."

The next morning, Mark was not surprised to see that his son and daughter-in-law had not come home.  When they retired, he had been worried about them.  For many years, they had both been hard-working professionals, deeply invested in their demanding, highly responsible jobs.  He had thought they would have trouble shifting from the stressful roles of Deputy Chief and Chief of Orthopedic Surgery to just being Steve and Maribeth, a retired couple, but to his surprise, after a short period of adjustment, they had settled right into a happy, relaxed, domestic life.  No, he was not at all surprised that they hadn't made it home last night; however, as he drank his morning coffee and looked out at the ocean through his telescope, he was astounded to see them, in their bathing suits, laying on matching lounge chairs, waving at him from the bow of a very attractive little sailboat.