When Ethan entered Fox's office, he found his younger brother deeply engaged in a conversation with his youngest daughter.
"And what do you talk to the other country's about, Daddy?" the six year-old asked, focusing intently on her father while she sat on his desk.
"Well, Elisa, so sometimes they ask me for favors, and sometimes Daddy gives them orders."
"And will they do everything you say?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"If they know what's good for them," Fox answered with a fiendish smile.
The little girl giggled, looking up at Fox through sandy brown bangs with unhidden admiration. Clearly, as far as she could tell, her father was like some sort of all-powerful being. Which, Ethan had to admit, wasn't really far from the truth.
At length, father and daughter noticed Ethan standing in the doorway. "Hi, Uncle Ethan!" the little girl enthused, running up to her uncle. In return, he scooped her up in a hug.
"Hey there!" he answered with a grin, "how are you doing?"
"Did you know there are over a thousand people here, and they all have to do whatever Daddy tells them?" she asked confidentially.
Ethan winked. "I had some idea."
"Hey," Fox interjected, "your uncle and I have some work to do. "How would you like Peggy to show you how the mail room works?"
Although she had no idea what a "mail room" was, Elisa, generally of a cheerful disposition, enthusiastically agreed, and Fox called for her nanny to take her out of the office.
"Giving her the grand tour?" Ethan asked, highly amused.
"Yeah, Elisa had a day off school today, and she wanted nothing so much as to see where Daddy worked," Fox explained with a self-satisfied grin. "She's been all over the place, too, so that I could hardly get any work done. You caught her in one of her quiet moments"
"Yeah, I remember when Douglas and Abigail used to run amok all over the mansion, getting into all kinds of trouble. I sort of miss it," Ethan remembered, threatening to get mawkishly sentimental. He and Gwen would have loved to have had more children, but with Gwen's infertility it was a miracle that they'd even had Abigail. "The kids do grow up fast."
"Yeah, I hear you. I can't believe Nicky just started high school, and Lucy will be in junior high next year. Let's face it, Bro; we're a couple of dried-up old men."
Ethan had to laugh, privately marveling, as he did every so often, just how far they'd come from the adversaries they'd used to be, who could barely stand to be in the same room together. He had to admit, though, that Fox had defied all of his expectation to become a real stand-up guy instead of the useless playboy he'd always written him off as. These days, they had something resembling an actual family relationship. "Hey, Fox, I hope that Theresa didn't give you a hard time about things. I'd take care of it myself, if it weren't so important now that there be NO extra publicity surrounding our families."
Fox shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Ethan. We both know that international security could be at risk if too much light is shed on some of our operations. Theresa knows that, too, which is why she knows that you won't do anything about it. Leave it to Theresa to take a threat to the entire human race and twist it to her own personal advantage, huh?"
Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I've drawn up the contracts you wanted. They should be airtight."
"Good, then I can tell the research division we're good to go."
"Think Durkee will be able to handle it?"
"He's always come through so far, ever since Mark-gate."
"True enough."
"Don't worry about it, Ethan; as long as everything stays hush-hush, I don't see how anything will go wrong."
Meanwhile, Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop was busy trying to decipher the Anderson briefings that her newly hired assistant Lisa had left for her. Unfortunately, she wasn't having much luck, which was simply intolerable considering the vital nature of the contract in question, a joint venture by Hotchkiss Enterprises and Crane Industries that had important implications for national security. In her father's final years with the company before he'd retired, Jonathan Hotchkiss had moved into the direction of robotics research, and Gwen had continued the move, making Hotchkiss one of the leading names in the burgeoning nanotechnology industry. Because Crane Industries was handling the defense contracts in the current global crisis that the vast majority of the world remained totally unaware of, Hotchkiss expertise in this critical field was of vital importance.
Incompetence of any kind simply couldn't be allowed when the stakes were so high, and Gwen figured she would soon be looking for a new assistant once again. She'd been through quite a long list of them ever since Paloma had left to get married, thus depriving Gwen of one of the best employees she'd ever had.
Not that she begrudged Paloma her happiness in England. Gwen might have originally hired Paloma at Rebecca's bequest as a means of gaining intelligence on the younger woman's estranged sister, but over the years the youngest of the Lopez-Fitzgerald children had become a close personal friend as well as a professional asset. Thus, when Paloma met and fell in love with Gwen's cousin Robert Hotchkiss, now Earl of Redmond, Gwen was nothing but encouraging of their storybook romance, and she had ultimately come to value Paloma even more as a relation than she had as the protégée she'd groomed for the executive track. Of course, it wasn't a total loss, though, as Paloma was now doing a fabulous job running the British division of Hotchkiss.
In the midst of her struggle with the ineptly drafted report, Gwen's intercom system lit up. "Yes?" she asked after pressing the appropriate button.
"Your mother's here to see you," the secretary's static voice replied.
Gwen groaned, knowing from experience that when Mother showed up while she was working, it generally resulted in causing her a headache. "Send her in," she replied in resignation.
Within the next few seconds Gwen was rewarded with the sight of Rebecca Osburn Hotchkiss Crane Richardson Wellesley Huntington as she scurried in to greet Gwen. Age certainly hadn't mellowed her mother a bit: from her brassily unnatural red hair to the smooth, taut face that Gwen suspected had had seen more plastic surgery than the entire run of Nip/Tuck, to the startlingly loud skin-tight violet dress that prominently displayed ample cleavage (most likely also helped along artificially), everything about the woman explicitly defied the concept of "aging gracefully."
"Hello, Mother," Gwen greeted the woman dutifully. "Is there a specific reason you've come to visit?"
Rebecca huffed a bit as she plopped down opposite her daughter. "Gwennie, sometimes I don't know about you. Do I need a reason to come and see my favorite child?"
Gwen rolled her eyes. "I'm your only child, Mother. And my question still stands."
"Well, that's all the more reason for you to be my favorite, isn't it? Anyway, yes, if you must know I came here to celebrate," she announced, whipping out a bottle of expensive champagne and a pair of crystal glasses.
"I guess you won your latest divorce settlement," Gwen remarked, shaking her head in wonder. After her marriage to Julian had been invalidated due to the revelation that his initial divorce from Ivy was never legal, Rebecca had embarked on a profitable career of serial marriage and divorce. "But don't you think it's a little early in the day for a drink?"
Rebecca clucked disapprovingly, although her daughter's prudishness could hardly dampen her happy mood. "Yes, I did, and the alimony payments required of poor Clyde are out of this world," she announced with triumph. "And I only wanted to share the good news with my beloved daughter, but apparently she'd rather act like an old fuddy-duddy."
Over the years, Gwen had become well accustomed to picking her fights, and this was definitely an instance in which it was easier for both of them to just humor Rebecca. "Alright, alright, I'll have a toast as long as you stop guilt-tripping me. But you know, I am a middle-aged woman with teenaged children of my own."
Rebecca shivered and almost spilled the champagne that she was pouring. Handing one glass to her daughter, and swallowing the contents of her own in a single swig, she said, "And I'll thank you very much never to remind me of that unhappy fact again. Speaking of which, Abigail's sweet sixteen is also coming up next month and I want to make sure that it's extra special."
"I'm well aware of that, and I'm handling the preparations for the twins' birthday."
"Oh, I'm sure you are," allowed Rebecca condescendingly as she poured herself another drink. "But a girl like Abigail deserves something truly distinctive for such a milestone, something to set her apart; send her on a trip around the world or buy her some jewels, something to show she's not some little commoner. I mean, it's bad enough that she goes to a public school and mingles with all the riffraff children."
"Both of the children are happy and doing quite well where they are. With Abigail's grades, there's no reason she shouldn't be able to go to an Ivy League university when she graduates. And I wish you wouldn't do this."
"Do what?" asked Rebecca, genuinely baffled.
"Talk about Abby like she's your only grandchild. It's Douglas's birthday, too. You know I don't like it when you favor my daughter over and above my son."
"Now that's just ridiculous," said Rebecca. "I'm quite fond of the boy. Just as I told you, keeping him gave Ethan a son and infuriated Theresa, so what's not to love? But I think it's only natural that I prefer my own flesh and blood to the spawn of that pathetic hussy."
"Oh, that's a nice way to talk about him!" Gwen replied with protective anger. "Don't you understand? This stopped being about revenge a long time ago. You know I love Douglas just as much as I do Abigail, and I wouldn't even keep thinking about his biology if you and Theresa didn't keep bringing it up all the time."
"Is Theresa at it again?" Rebecca asked, narrowing her eyes.
"You know her. She's always at it. If we didn't have Fox on our side nowadays, I don't know what we'd do. Poor guy," she mused, "he bears it well, but anyone can see the toll she takes on him."
"Yes, well, better him than Ethan," Rebecca responded pragmatically. "I must say, Theresa got a whole lot more than she deserves. Fabulous wealth, Crane power, and a singularly handsome, well-muscled, incredibly hot husband…" As she contemplated Fox's many attributes, Rebecca's geriatric eyes began to glaze over.
Gwen shook her head. Truly, some things never change. "Would you stop that, please? You used to be his stepmother!"
"No more legally than Theresa was!" Rebecca rejoined defensively. "Speaking of which, you know she's just blowing hot air, Gwennie. You won, and there's not a damn thing she can do about it."