"Mrs. Crane?" one of the maids (Theresa hadn't bothered to actually remember any of their names for the past several years) tentatively inquired, poking her head into Theresa's bedchamber, as though she feared to find her mistress in a bad temper.

The lady of the house, who had been pacing back and forth, mentally brainstorming a list of schemes she might pull off to snag Ethan, destroy Gwen, and regain her children, in that order, looked up unfavorably at the transgressor. "What do you want?" Theresa asked crossly, figuring that the girl, who looked rather young and inexperienced, had simply come to ask her a question about the running of the house. God, the help was so inept these days, and so unlike the exemplary order that her mother had always kept when she was the head housekeeper. "And this had better be good. You know I don't like to be bothered unless it's absolutely necessary."

The girl trembled, knowing that Theresa Crane had become notorious for capriciously firing all servants that dared to displease her. Nevertheless, she stood her ground. "Please, Ma'am, you have a visitor who wants to see you. A strange old woman, with curly blonde hair and an, er, 'interesting' way of dressing. She says her name's Tabitha Lenox, and that she's an old family friend. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't supposed to let anyone in unless they were specifically expected, but she just kept insisting to see you."

"Tabitha's here?" Theresa asked, half to herself and thoroughly confused. What could she possibly want to see her about? As it was a sort of unspoken rule in Harmony that you talk to Tabitha if she wishes to talk to you, Theresa felt like she could do nothing but agree. "Alright, I guess I'll see her. Where did you have her wait?"

"In the anteroom next to the library," the maid responded, thankful that she hadn't had to face Mrs. Crane's disapproval. Theresa thanked her absentmindedly, and proceeded downstairs to find out why on earth Tabitha had come to call on her.

"Hello, Theresa," Tabitha greeted, handing her a small black tin filled with what looked like misshapen, half-burnt cookies of some unknown variety. "How are you doing, my dear?"

"Uh, hi, Tabitha," Theresa responded uncertainly, taking the tin as respectfully as possible. It was bizarre, but if Theresa hadn't known better, she would've sworn that Tabitha didn't look a day older than she had when Theresa herself was just a little girl. "I'm doing fine, I guess. Wow, you look…great, really, like you haven't aged in years."

Tabitha flicked her head back in a laugh. "Yes, I know, everybody tells me that. What can I say? Having a child in my life just keeps me young."

More like permanently fossilized, Theresa thought, though she did have sufficient manners to refrain from vocalizing her opinion. She gingerly set the cookies on a nearby table, while making a mental note to have them exposed of as soon as the strange elderly lady left. "I guess you're doing well, then?"

"Oh, yes, my dear. My health is still holding out, and my daughter is an absolute joy in my life. How is your family doing?"

"Oh," Theresa smiled awkwardly, trying to figure out where this whole thing was going, "my kids are fine, Mama's doing well, Luis and Sheridan are still happily married, and Miguel hasn't given up hope of finding Charity."

"And what about your sister? I talked to Pilar a few months ago, and heard that Paloma was expecting her third child. Has she had it yet?"

Theresa stiffened. Most people in Harmony knew that the subject of her treacherous baby sister was not one to be brought up in her presence, and very few even dared to mention Paloma's name when Theresa was around. Struggling mightily to control her temper, Theresa brusquely answered, in a tone that did not invite further inquiry, "Honestly, I wouldn't know. Paloma and I aren't exactly close."

Looking to change the subject, and hopefully alleviate the bad mood that she had just developed, Theresa exclaimed, "I have to admit Tabitha, it is a surprise, seeing you like this. What brought you here."

Tabitha smiled sadly. "Well, you see, the other day my Endora had her friends over, and Douglas and Abigail were amongst them, and it got me to thinking about how long they've been separated from their poor mother, and I suddenly got the urge to check up on you, so I whipped up a little treat and came right over."

At the mention of the twins, the muscles in Theresa's face contorted themselves into a pained expression. "Oh, thank you, that's very thoughtful. Do you, uh, see them a lot?"

The eccentric old woman nodded in the affirmative. "Oh, yes, my dear, all the time; as I said, they are very close to my daughter."

"That's nice," Theresa said longingly, tears beginning to form in her large brown eyes. "I used to get to see them on holidays, but I haven't been allowed to visit in years, not ever since I dressed up like Santa and tried to carry them off in a sleigh when they were seven. Ethan and Gwen claimed that it traumatized the children, so now, Fox just takes our kids and visits without me."

"That's outrageous," Tabitha clucked sympathetically. "After all, what were you supposed to do? What would any mother do?"

Theresa reddened, all of her maternal instincts rising to the surface, as there were so often wont to do when the Winthrop twins were involved. "That's what I said, but judges don't care about what's in a mother's heart; all they see are things like 'psychological profiles' and 'criminal records' and 'restraining orders.' But, how are Douglas and Abigail? Do they ever mention me?"

The elder woman looked all around her uncertainly, as if unsure as to how she should answer Theresa's question. "Not very often," she admitted at length, her voice teeming with empathetic regret, "and when they do, I'm sorry to confess that it's only to express how much they hate you. It does break my heart to think how those two little dears have been taught to resent their real mother: Douglas your very own flesh and blood, and Abigail connected to you through the unbreakable bond created when a mother carries a child."

Now, Theresa was really starting to tear up. "You're so right, Tabitha, and I know that I can just get them alone for more than a few minutes at a time, then they'll see that everything I've done was all for them!"

"I'm sure you could," Tabitha began, but neglected to finish her thought when she became distracted by a noise very much like a door slamming shut in the adjoining room. "My goodness, what could that be?"

"Oh, probably just someone to see my husband," Theresa explained offhandedly. "This is a side entrance to the library; whoever is meeting with him must have come in from the foyer. When Fox is home, he usually likes to do his business in the library. It's nothing we need to be concerned about."

"Why, Theresa, I'm surprised at you!" Tabitha exclaimed, staring at the younger woman in mild shock. "I would have thought that a woman in your position would always make sure to know exactly what was going on under her own roof."

Theresa was thrown. "Well, I do try," she stammered out defensively, "when it seems important, but of course I can't listen in on everything—"

Tabitha clasped the younger woman's hand apologetically. "Of course not, and how very rude of me to even bring it up. Maybe we should leave the room…"

Theresa shook her head. "No, I think you're right, I should be more up on what's my husband's been up to. Why don't we listen in?"

And so, the two of them squeezed up against the mahogany door, fortunately open just a slit, and proceeded to eavesdrop in upon Fox's dealings.

"Alright, Jacoby, what do you have for me now?" Fox asked. Eight-and-a-half years ago, soon after Alistair had finally done the first decent thing in his life and died, of a heart attack, ironically enough, and Nicholas Foxworth Crane had been named the new president of Crane Industries, Fox had begun the long and arduous task of digging up all the old family secrets. From what Fox could tell, sometime soon after Luis had nearly exposed everything at the Founder's Day Dance thanks to a single CD-ROM, Alistair had become far more careful about how he stored all potentially damning evidence. Tiny clues, all leading up to a bigger picture, were scattered across the Crane network, individual hard drives, individual CD-ROMs, outdated old zip disks, and the like, and encrypted with a system so secure it would put the CIA to shame. Because of this, each secret could take years to put together, and Fox had found it necessary to hire an encryption expert, Brian Jacoby, for the sole purpose of doing this detective work for him.

From time to time, Fox had to wonder why Alistair even went to all this trouble. If he had been so determined to make damn sure nobody could repeat what Luis had done, why didn't he just destroy all the evidence of his wrongdoing and be done with it? There were only two explanations Fox could conjecture; one, that this was simply the way that the mind of a megalomaniac worked, that to feed his own ego and truly revel in his victory he had needed to feel that he remained just a few steps ahead of detection at all times; if this was true, then Fox figured that his late grandfather had far more in common with a Bond villain, or even a bad guy on Batman, than anybody had ever suspected. The other possibility was that he'd always intended these things to be found out, by the next Crane heir, but had wanted him to figure it out himself, a sort of character-building or intellect-sharpening exercise.

Whatever it was, over the past eight years Fox had managed to dig up more than a fair number of skeletons: some, like the true identity of Martin "Wallace" Lopez-Fitzgerald he'd announced right away, some he'd quietly destroyed, either to protect individuals he didn't feel justified in ratting out or to protect Crane Industries from being brought up on criminal charges, and still others he'd set aside for blackmail purposes in case he needed leverage in future dealings, whether business or personal. Initially, when he'd taken over the business, he'd vowed to really change the Crane image, operate more ethically, and actually use his vast wealth and power to accomplish something positive, and on the whole he'd succeeded; however, he realized more acutely than anyone that when dealing with a past as blackened as his family's was, extreme measures were sometimes required to uphold the Crane name and maintain the status quo.

Jacoby smiled. "Something pretty juicy this time. Apparently, your late grandfather knew all along who really sent the bombshell about your half-brother's paternity to the tabloids."

This certainly managed to perk Fox's attention. Sitting a little straighter in his chair, he said, "Alright, then, who did it? Was it my lovely wife after all?"

"Actually, no. It was sent from her laptop alright, but Mrs. Crane had nothing to do with it, other than scanning it onto there in the first place. The real culprit was Rebecca Hotchkiss, though her daughter acted quite willingly as an accomplice."

Fox sat back in his chair, fairly floored, as he processed the news. He was truly shocked—not about Rebecca, nothing that old harlot did would have surprised him, but Gwen…? True, his sister-in-law was no saint, and there was a time that that mother of hers could talk her into just about anything, and she generally became a totally different person whenever Theresa was involved…well, maybe it wasn't really so surprising now that he thought about it. "Oh, wow. That's, yeah, that's some pretty interesting news there."

"Isn't it? What do you want me to do about it? Should we make this public, let your brother know what kind of woman he's married to?"

"No, I don't think so," Fox finally answered after a long moment of silent deliberation. On the one hand, he felt something of an obligation to tell Ethan, but then again, what good could it possibly do any more? That was decades ago, and his brother and Gwen had built an entire life that only stood to be ripped apart by this revelation. That did mean letting Gwen off the hook for her treachery, but he truly believed that she loved him, whatever it is that she'd done in the past. Besides, just the thought of what Theresa would get up to if this came out made him cringe. "No, I think this is one secret that needs to stay buried."

Jacoby nodded. "I'll destroy all the data right now."

"Good. Oh, and of course you know what'll happen if you tell anybody about this or anything else you've decoded.

"You'll kill me and make life miserable for my entire family," Jacoby recited, unable to stop himself from gulping nervously. On the whole, Fox Crane was a generous boss and a nice guy to deal with, but Jacoby had absolutely no doubt he'd follow through on any threats he made if the occasion called for it.

"You got that right," Fox replied lightly with a still-boyish grin. "Good work, though, and you can expect a nice bonus. Now, if there's nothing else you got for me, I really need to get back to the Anderson report."

"Oh my," Tabitha intoned in wonder as soon as they'd heard Jacoby leave. "Who would've thought that it was Gwen all along? And to think, if it weren't for those tabloids you and Ethan would've gotten married years ago!"

Theresa seemed to be frozen in place, as if she had just received more information than she was capable of processing at the moment. At length, she began to function again, and her facial expression contorted itself into one of abject rage doing battle utter delight. "My God," she finally remarked, not sure whether she should feel horrified or thrilled, "everything that's ever happened to me really is Gwen's fault!"

My dear, this must be so very hard on you. You just found out that your life should've turned out very differently, and it's all the fault of a woman you've hated for years." Tabitha took her hand soothingly and tried to make her sit down, but Theresa unthinkingly shrugged her off.

"Are you kidding!" Theresa responded decisively, delight having just won out. "Do you have any idea what an opportunity this is for me?"

"I'm not sure I follow, Dear."

Theresa was on Cloud Nine, and didn't think twice about making any sort of confession. "You see, I've been looking to dig up something nasty on Gwen, but I didn't dare think it could be anything this juicy. The most I was hoping for was that I'd uncover some sort of crooked business dealing, but instead, this just presented itself to me, like its fate!"

"It's certainly sounds that way!" admitted Tabitha brightly.

"Oh no, Theresa suddenly stated, her euphoric mood crashing down all around her. "It won't work."

"And why not?"

"Fox just had all the evidence destroyed. I've got no proof."

Tabitha thought about Theresa's conundrum for a minute. "That is a problem, I must say. But, couldn't you send Ethan a letter anyway? It might make him suspicious, and Gwen could always slip up and give herself away."

Theresa was far from confident, but had to agree that it was better than not doing anything about this. "And if this works," she told a smiling Tabitha, her self-confidence rapidly gaining by the second, "then Ethan and I might finally be able to be a family!"