So sue me, I stole the design of Evy's dress from Jackie and J-lo. Beautiful dress, I must say :)

i just want someone to say to me baby i'll always be there when you wake though i'd like to keep my cheeks dry today so stay with me and i'll have it made and i don't understand why i sleep all day and you know that i start to complain that there's no rain and all i can do is read a book to stay awake and everyday it rips a little of my life away but it's a great escape and everyday we need it

--"no rain" blind melon

I had no idea dogs could hold such a grudge.

Although Addison seemed very pleased to meet me (he nearly knocked me down in his enthusiasm, in fact), he appears quite upset with Rick. My husband has been trying to get Addison to acknowledge him for the past ten minutes with no luck. The poor dog looks quite offended and has plopped down on his flannel bedding, refusing to budge.

"Well, what did you expect?" asks Sherrie. "You abandoned him for an entire month!"

"I'm sorry, Addy," says Rick pleadingly. "It was a matter of life and death. You understand..."

Addison simply glares. Rick sighs.

"Well," says Sherrie, grabbing my arm, "we'll leave the boys to their foolishness. I hear you are in need of some serious shopping."

"Oh, but--"

"Go!" cries Rick. "Have fun. Gossip. Bring Addison back something." He leans toward me, kisses me lightly on the ear. "Don't let Sherrie drive too fast."

"I heard that, O'Connell," snaps Sherrie, pushing me toward the front door. "The movers are coming at eleven, and the guests are coming at seven. And for God's sake, clean this place up."

Rick rolls his eyes and returns his attention to Addison. Sherrie and I quit the house and climb into her rather antique-looking vehicle. "What a lovely, um, car," I say, telling myself that Rick would certainly not let me ride in it if it where as close to falling apart as it looks.

"It's a beaut', isn't it?" Sherrie's eyes gleam as she turns the engine. "Classic. Collectors would kill for this car."

"You sound like my brother. Adores anything on wheels."

Sherrie's car spurts and sputters out onto the main road. "Older or younger?"

"Oh, Jonathan's five years older. He barely acts it, though."

She clucks sympathetically. "I have four older brothers. Sure put me through the wringer. But it's nice to have four men in your life who'd kick someone's ass for you if you asked."

I smile, thinking of my own four protectors. "Do they live around here?"

"Some of them." Sherrie spots her exit and we veer off onto it. "Dan and Joe are just outside the city, but Dave's up in New York and Jack's in London with my uncle."

"Have you ever been to England?"

"Nah." Sherrie pulls into a parking lot and her car dives into a space just ahead of another vehicle. "I've been thinking about moving, lately, though. Don't know if I could stand to stay at Jamilah with Rick gone; I don't think I could work as Robbie's assistant."

We exit the car and make our way toward the department store. "Why not? He seemed very nice."

I think she blushes a bit at this, but I have the sense not to press the matter. "Oh, sure. Yeah, I just... I don't know. Hey, look, here we are. You'll die for their shoes, this store is just great."

We find the shoe section in silence, Sherrie leading the way. I can see why Rick depends on her so much. She's like a very tightly controlled hurricane, liable to demolish those in her path but strangely pulled together when the occasion demands. I'll have to investigate this thing with Robbie further, when I get to know her a little better. For now, though, Sherrie cleverly turns the conversation and puts me in the tough spot instead. "So," she says, "life or death matter, huh? Sounds exciting."

I study the boot I've picked up carefully, avoiding Sherrie's eyes. "Um...yes. You could say that."

"I don't mean to pry...lovely boot, by the way, you should try that on...Rick said something about a cargo plane, but that was pretty much it."

I set down the boot. It's not really my style. "I guess the plane was a rather important detail. Oh, look at this one. I like the heel."

"Red, hmm? How daring. Now, personally, I don't know if a proposal on a cargo plane would have done it for me..."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

She gives me her brightest smile. "Evy--can I call you that?--you might as well tell and get it over with, or all sorts of rumors will start flying. Think of me as damage control."

We move out of the shoes and into the endless racks of clothes. "It's a rather long story, you know. You really don't want all the details; you wouldn't believe most of them. I guess what's relevant starts after all that, anyway..."

"You're not making much sense, Evy. Oh, you must come and look at these blouses."

"It wasn't like anyone meant it to happen. And it was my own damn fault, anyway. Who knows where we'd be now if I hadn't been so stupid about the whole thing."

"Again with the cryptic."

"Sorry. It's just that... I don't even know where to start. I suppose it suffices to say that Rick just showed up in London one day and it wasn't long before we figured out we both wanted to pick up where we left off. Like nothing happened. Everything had happened, of course, but somehow it's not like that with him. It's like we've never been apart."

Sherrie claps her hands together. "That's wonderful! What's it like to be married? Are you completely sick of him yet? Do you think you'll have children?"

"I think Rick should get used to the one he has before we start talking about more." Wait. Oops. "Oh. Um... Has Rick..."

Sherrie looks a bit confused. Don't blame her at all. Damn it. "Um, mentioned any children? No, he hasn't. Something else you want to tell me, dear?"

"Erm. We sort of...have a...son."

Sherrie's mouth falls open but she quickly closes it. "What's his name?"

"Alex. He's just turned eight."

"Wow." Sherrie hands me a skirt. "This cut would look lovely on you. Rick didn't give me the impression you two knew each other so...well, back then."

"He didn't know, about Alex." I feel the sudden overwhelming need to defend my husband; I don't want his reputation to face the same firing squad my own suffered through so many years ago. "When he left Cairo, I didn't have any idea, either. Somehow we just...missed each other. If he hadn't gone to the U.S. he would have lost his family's estate, and he wanted me to come with him... Some things just don't work out, no matter how much you want them to."

"They seem to have worked out all right, actually." Sherrie pats me on the arm, and it occurs to me that I may have found a friend. "When you two talk about each other you get this...I don't know..." She waves her arms, which are filled with clothes. "You get this tranquility about you. Like you know everything is just right, complete." She hands me another skirt, this one dark blue. "So what's Alex like? I bet he's an absolute terror, like his father. Rick tells me you're an Egyptologist, does Alex go along with you on digs and such? It's so wonderful when families can share stuff like that..."

Sherrie continues to ask questions as we shop, and she doesn't seem to mind that not all of them get answered. Somehow I don't mind either. It's just nice to have a friend for once.

By the time seven o'clock rolls around, I'm ready for the party to get over with already, and I haven't even gone downstairs. This whole farewell celebration was Sherrie's idea. Though I will miss most of my employees, the rest of Boston society I could do without. Elite clientele have their advantages, but frankly I find the whole lot unbearable. Maybe they'll be better in London, but I doubt it.

Speaking of Brits, for all my indifference, my wife is apparently 100 times as nervous. She's been locked in the bathroom for fifty-four minutes by my watch. "You sure you're okay in there?" I call.

In response she throws open the bathroom door, looking very pissed off. "I can't find the earrings Sherrie lent me! Where the hell are the earrings?!"

"They're on the dresser, sweetheart, take a deep breath."

"Aaaargh!" Evy crosses the room and snatches the little dangly earrings from the dresser. "I thought I was going insane. I haven't been to a fancy party like this for ten years, I forgot how much I hate them."

"Amen, sister. If it's any consolation, though, you'll be the most beautiful woman in the room."

"Sure it's not just the dress?" Evy scrutinizes said dress in mirror. The fabric falls over one shoulder nearly to the floor, and there's a twirly line of beads along the edge. "I really feel more comfortable in black."

Despite Evy's concerns, I'm now entirely sure that seafoam green is my new favorite color. I kiss her bare shoulder and see a little shiver run through her. "The dress isn't nearly as beautiful as the woman wearing it."

She gives me that 100-watt smile I was looking for. "Well," she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the mirror, "you should see the one I got for later. You'll really like that one. Let's go meet your friends now, darling."

"Wait, wait, wait." I stop her on the third floor landing. I can hear the din of annoyingly early party-goers from below us. "What color is the other one?"

I love it when I can make her blush. "Can't you stand a surprise? Why aren't you wearing the tie I picked out?"

"Don't change the subject, sweetie."

"Then don't ask questions you won't get answers to, muffin." Evy begins the trek down the stairs, successfully having beaten back my curiosity. "Now is there anything I should know about any of these people before I walk among them?"

"If some old guy introduces himself as Teddy Roosevelt, smile politely and walk away. And stay away from the secretaries from the office. They'll trap you for hours. If you're ever in trouble, look for Sherrie or me or Robbie, we'll pull you out of there."

"You make it sound like a war."

"Just smile. Donald!"

As soon as we reach the main floor Donald Something-or-Other from the accounting firm approaches. "Rick!" he cries, shaking my hand, eyeing my wife. "Glad you're back in town, there's some things I'd like to discuss with you--"

"Why don't you call the office Monday and we'll have something set up, this is my wife Evelyn, but I have to get her to the other side of the room, so I'll see you Monday Donald."

Donald smiles and nods like he understands perfectly, and Evy and I escape the first sand trap. "Impressive," Evy mutters. "You have practice at this."

"The trick is never to pause. Oh look, actual people. Hey, Robbie."

"Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell," Robbie nods, winking. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go find Sherrie."

Robbie takes his leave and I turn to the other members of the little group. "Sweetheart, I want you to meet some people. Daniel Worthingham, John Quinn and his wife Wanda. Daniel works in sales; John and I went to school together."

Everyone exchanges 'pleased-to-meet-you's and 'how-do-you-do's, and eventually they goad Evy into telling the 'how-we-met' story. Again. I hear it or tell it in various abridged versions a million times throughout the night. As the hours drag on, Evy and I get separated so I'm not entirely sure what sort of hell she herself has gotten into, but I for one am really ready for the party to be over now. Jesus, I'm sick of these gatherings.

What seems like an eternity later (including a string of painful and slightly drunken speeches from my coworkers), there are few enough guests remaining that I can escape to the kitchen. Evy is already there, sitting on a counter and holding a glass of champagne. "What lovely friends you have, darling," she says, handing me the glass. "That was the most fascinating evening of my life."

"You had fun too, huh? I lost track of you, where'd you run off to?"

She pulls me to her, resting her head on my shoulder. "I got help up listening to drunken recountings of stories you probably didn't want me to hear. Has everyone left yet?"

Before I can reply we hear a shout from the living room. "Just stay away from me!" someone cries, tears in their voice. "I'm sick of this, just don't talk to me!"

"Sherrie, don't act like that, I didn't--"

We hear a door slam, open, then shut again. Evy raises her eyebrows. "Was that Robbie's voice I heard? What's going on with those two?"

"Beats me. Sherrie's been acting strange for months."

Evy gives me a very dangerous look. "We may have to do some matchmaking..."

"Oh, leave them alone. Good things come to those who wait. It'll work itself out in the end."

"Good things, huh? I guess everything worked pretty well for us, didn't it?"

"You know, it occurs to me that we've just passed the halfway mark. Our honeymoon is half over."

She sets about straightening my collar, nervous fingers finding something to do. She's about to ask me something, something she's been thinking about, I can tell. "So...the name of your company is Jamilah. Jamilah Shipping."

"Yeah. Beautiful in Arabic."

"I know. You used to...I mean, I don't know if you remember, but...you used to call me--"

"I remember." I remember one sunny, happy day in Cairo when she was pushing me out the door of the library, claiming she'd never get any work done if I was around. 'Farewell, Jamilah,' I'd called as I left. Evy didn't speak much Arabic but even if she didn't know the word she'd look it up. I'd called her 'Beautiful' all along, but Jamilah became her special nickname, one that was just hers and always would be. "I couldn't very well name my company after a girl outright, people would look at me funny," I say. "Customers like it when I tell them it's named after a lost love, though. It's all mysterious and tragic."

"Not so tragic of a story anymore. I may have ruined your business."

"Eh, that's okay. It sounds better when I can tell people it's named after my wife."

"Well you'd better, Jamil, I own half of it now." She hops off the counter and goes to the kitchen door, peeking around it to see if the guests are finally all gone. "You do know that I married you for your money, right?"

"I had a sneaking suspicion. I hope you can learn to love me, too."

She grins again, looking as beautiful as the day I met her. "Too late," she says, "I already do," and disappears behind the swinging door, leaving me to follow.

~*~*~*~

Tee hee. Hints and plot set-ups abound . . . we'll see ? . . . ;)