Dale stayed at the edge of the group as Chip issued orders from the Acorn Club's front entrance. "Monty, you and Zipper should talk to the bartender. See if he can tell you the last time and place he saw Max Travinski. Dale, you and Gadget can take the Ranger Wing to Max's apartment; see if you can find anything there. Clarice and I will talk to some other employees." If Chip was at all nervous or phased by his new case, one would have been hard pressed to notice. Dale, on the other hand, was a wreck.

Normally, Dale would have leaped with joy to be on assignment with Gadget. Her sparkling personality, her lovely blue eyes, her entrancing figure . . . . But Dale's mind was not on Gadget at all. He cautiously watched Chip and Clarice together. Nasty thoughts lurked in his mind about the young woman. Clarice had changed from her dress into a sleek but comfortable turtleneck sweater and jeans; even dressed down, she was a beautiful woman, but he could not ignore the past. Dale kept staring even as Gadget gently pulled him toward the Ranger Wing. Burrowed deep in his coat, he stared moodily ahead as Gadget piloted them toward Max's apartment.

Gadget sneaked a look toward Dale. Trying to be a good friend, she gave him a bright smile. "So, Dale, what's on your mind?"

Dale could only stare at her. He knew Gadget could be naïve, but this seemed ridiculous! He furrowed his brow as he answered her. "Oh, uh, just thinkin' 'bout the new Kablammo Man comic," he lied.

Gadget sighed; she knew the comic wasn't going to come out for another ten months—on top of the fact that Dale was a terrible liar. She really did want to know what he was thinking about, so she tried a different approach. She dropped the bright smile. "Ok, seriously. What's going on exactly?"

Dale was quiet for a moment. A huge part of him was uncomfortable telling any part of the story, especially since it was focused around Chip, but he knew Gadget really was a good friend and that she would possibly have some sort of comfort and maybe some guidance. "Well," he began. "I'm worried about Chip."

Gadget nodded. "Ok, why?"

Dale slumped even further in his seat. He closed his eyes, not sure if he was really ready to say what he was going to say next. "Gadget, Chip—well, he's in love with you."

The breath caught in Gadget's throat. If she hadn't have been flying the plane, she would have sat down. Well, at least, if she had been standing, she would have sat down. And if she'd been sitting . . . she stopped her run-on thoughts and tried to focus at what was now at hand.

Chip loved her. No, never mind, strike that. Chip was in love with her. Totally different.

Gadget finally realized that Dale was crying. "Dale, what—what's wrong?" She tried to look over to him, but needed to keep her eyes ahead of her.

Dale wiped at his tears, embarrassed. "It's just that . . . well, I kinda like you too." He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "And I liked Clarice . . . a lot. But she liked Chip. And he liked her. Then they fell in love."

Gadget tried to bring her thoughts to bear. Ok, Chip was in love with her. Dale liked her . . . maybe loved her? But Dale had liked Clarice. So had Chip. Clarice chose Chip. So simple, yet so complicated! Gadget would take advanced Calculus over relationship advice any day.

Gadget landed the Wing, careful to land in a relatively camouflaged area. She just sat in the pilot's seat for a moment, trying once again to process the information. "So, Dale, what are you trying to say?"

He was almost hidden by his bulky coat. "You deserve Chip. Not Clarice," he choked.

Gadget finally turned to him, a touch annoyed at his toying with her emotions. "Why are you telling me this?"

Dale's gaze met hers. "I don't trust Clarice. She did it once before, and she's not going to get the chance to do it again."

Gadget rolled her eyes in frustration. "Honestly, Dale, spit it out! What really happened? I know you want to tell me."

Dale braced himself, and before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of him.

"It wasn't with Max. It was with me."

Gadget sat in stunned silence. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "You?" she finally whispered.

"Me." Dale's eyes closed in shame. His body trembled with unshed tears. "I can never tell him," he whimpered. "It was only two weeks after they got together. Clarice and I made a promise. We wouldn't tell him. She finally felt so guilty that she had to leave. I made up the story about her and Max. She really did go sing at his new club, though, and he's still her manager. I never thought she'd come back." Gadget had never seen Dale look so miserable. "Chip deserves better—a girl like you, and not a friend like me."

Gadget took Dale in her arms and gave him a comforting hug. Years of pent-up guilt came streaming out in Dale's tears. After a few minutes, Gadget pulled away, expectant questions in her eyes.

Dale shook his head violently. "No, Gadget. I can't."

Gadget's hopeful expression crumpled. "Dale, you can't keep living a lie."

Dale's words now bordered on confident. "I have for this long." He jumped out of the Wing, still wiping his tears. He glanced uncomfortably at Gadget, still sitting in the plane, his confidence failing. "Don't—don't say anything to Chip, please?"

Gadget took a deep breath. She had emotions of her own now invested in this, and was exceedingly uncomfortable. However, she nodded. She hopped out of her side and became all business. "Now, which room was Max's?"

As they made their way into the underground apartments, Dale tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, but couldn't.

Dale sat sulking in the dressing room he shared with Chip. The show had gone well that night, but it had still been hard to concentrate. Ever since Clarice had been exclusively dating Chip, things were different on stage. Since the act hadn't been altered, Clarice was still seductively singing to the both of them, which unnerved Dale. For two weeks, he and Chip had not spoken beyond cold greetings and the necessary communication during rehearsal. He sighed and stared into the small mirror. Why did Chip get all the luck?

A soft tap on the door brought a smirk to his face. It was most likely Chip back to get something he had forgotten. He sat stiffly in his seat, waiting for Chip to enter, get whatever it was, and leave. The tap was repeated. Dale huffed, and finally answered the door.

"Cl-clarice!" he stuttered.

Clarice demurely smiled at him. "May I come in?"

Dale, dumbstruck, nodded.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

He nodded his head again, still silent and confused.

Clarice sat delicately in one of the two chairs provided in the room. Dale chose to stand, staring curiously at the lovely chipmunk of his dreams. "Uh, what'd you need?" he asked.

Clarice sighed and looked askance at the floor, failing to meet his questioning eyes. "I know things are hard, Dale."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know why it'd be hard for you. You and Chip are happy." He shrugged. "I guess the clown doesn't count."

Clarice now gazed into his eyes. "Oh, Dale, of course you do!" She stood and walked to him. "You know you still mean quite a bit to me."

Dale turned his back. "Funny way of showin' it."

"Please don't be like this." She put a hand on his shoulder.

Dale sniffled; he tried to hold it back, but there was no use. "Is it because I'm a dummy? That's what Chip says." He ground his teeth in order to keep from releasing a sob.

Clarice gently but purposefully turned him around. "Certainly not! You know I don't think that!"

His eyes were filled with barely restrained tears. "Prove it," he muttered.

Dale clenched his fists with the thought. How could he have been so stupid! Chip had been right all along; he was a dummy. Why did he manipulate Clarice that night? And why did she have to go along with him? He tried to concentrate as Gadget and he inspected Max's apartment, but it was difficult—the memories wouldn't let him.

Clarice's eyes were guilt stricken. "Dale, what are we going to do now?"

"Nothing." His cheeks red, he couldn't face her.

She folded her hands, staring at them. "I'm sorry."

"You love him."

She nodded, still looking intently at her clasped hands.

A sorrowful, ragged sigh escaped Dale. "I'm no good at keeping secrets, Clarice."

She choked on a soft sob. "You can't tell him," she whispered, urgency coloring her words. "Please, please, Dale. You know it has to stay between us. If it ever comes down to it, just say it was someone else. You've been friends too long." She bit her lip. "Just tell him we talked and now you're ok." She winced, her voice cracking with immediate regret. "Please, let's just forget this ever happened."

Three and a half months later, Clarice and Chip were planning their wedding . . . .