Why Blame When You Can Breathe?

DISCLAIMER: 'As Told by Ginger' is a creation of Emily Kapnek and is produced by Anivision, Klasky-Csupo and Nickelodeon/Viacom Networks. This author makes no claim to any properties herein and makes no monetary gain from its production. Please do not flame.

(Chapter 4- Welcome Home, Courtney)

The embrace currently being given to me just outside terminal seven at Los Angeles International Airport resembles more of a bear hug than a 'see you in six months' hug. I knew Miranda would miss me, but she, Tara and I did have a farewell dinner on Wednesday night for this very occasion. She's on her own early this Friday morning to send me off but despite it all, she's making me believe that she will not let go of this hug even if it meant one of her athletes could sign a 500 million dollar contract.

As I turn my gaze, I have to look at her in the eyes one more time. Is that a...tear? She's got sunglasses on making it difficult to see, but is Miranda actually crying right now? Something's running down her eyes, for sure, and Miranda hasn't done anything to break out in a sweat. If I'm also not mistaken, did she just sniffle? Color me just as surprised as anyone at this development. Trust me when I say this. The last time I believe I saw Miranda cry was her second wedding during her written vows. If you're around her long enough with Tara, you can tell the change she's gone through as an individual. It may not be so obvious but when it tugs at the heartstrings like the thought of her best friend being 3,000 miles away, the breaking point becomes crystal clear.

As much as I could revel in this feeling and tease Miranda for this until her hair turns gray, I do have a flight to catch. After all, that's why I came to LAX three hours early before takeoff. Baggage check, dealing with the ridiculousness of airport security and then being crammed in a jumbo jet for several hours (including, in this case, a connecting flight to Chicago) with far from the best food is not how I imagine a standard business trip but, as you probably know, this is far from an ordinary business trip.

"Miranda," I speak to her while still in her oxygen-depriving embrace. "I know you're going to miss me, but...if I don't get going, I'll have no reason to come back because I'll get canned."

She finally lets go, clears her throat and says, "I'm sorry, Courtney. I just...forgive me. It's-fuck!"

"Spit it out, Miranda!" I interject, not so much annoyed as I was pressed for time in an ardent desire to be punctual. "We knew this was going to come, I know this is difficult, but here we are. Nothing we can do about it but go forward."

"And it sucks!" Miranda admits. "We came to this city as punk kids with dreams, hopes and aspirations to make Southern California our fucking oyster. We didn't know anything or anyone, but we both made our dreams come true. We spent our childhoods one hour away from a city with a mantra that says 'If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere,' and I won't dispute that, but I think we did pretty fucking well for ourselves in the City of Angels. Now I feel like it's the end of an era, Courtney. You're gonna be back east, I'm gonna be a mom soon...I don't know. There's still a part of me that imagined the two of us in a shared home growing old and sitting out on a porch or backyard in rocking chairs painted in our respective school colors talking about the kids and realizing that looking back we've lived tremendous lives. Now your off again. You're my best friend and...after Tara and her family practically my only friend."

"No, I understand," I reply, while cupping her left cheek and cursing whatever tears may fall down my face. That remark about us growing old doesn't phase me nearly as much as it used to. I know Miranda. Tara is the love of her life, but there will always be an extra special place for me. Thankfully, Miranda's second wife is secure enough in herself to respect that and she knows that Miranda won't try anything with me because I've moved past any more romantic pursuits with Miranda. That chapter in my life is closed and will never be opened again.

"It will be different, Miranda," I make clear, "but like you said we've conquered this city. There is nothing we can't do if we set out to make it a priority. It's just that our respective priorities have changed and we've changed. You have Tara and your baby on the way, I've got my business to take care of back home and it just so happens that I also get to help a friend from back in the day. Listen, I'm only one call away and once I get to LaGuardia, I'll let you know."

Nodding, Miranda gets what I'm saying...at least I hope so. "Okay," she concedes. "Your parents..."

"Two problems with that, Miranda. One, due to the time difference I'm going to get there relatively late and two, I'm 32. I'm expected to fend for myself, so I'll either get a rental or an Uber and probably be back home by 11 p.m. tonight. Plus, along with all the stuff in the storage unit for when I'm bound to come back to L.A. and the weeks worth of clothing I've brought, I should be set. Not only that, my Mercedes should be in Connecticut by Sunday. It will be just like home."

"And the fact that you get to live with them and only have to pay a small amount in rent for the next six months..."

"They gave me the sweetheart deal and told me 'You know the way home. We'll have a bed ready for you, but don't expect the red carpet to be laid out for you as this isn't a social arrival.' It is what it is, but...we'll see if their attitude changes after six months."

"If you ask me," Miranda says, with a smile finally on her face, "I think they're calling your bluff. It's been...a few years since you've been home. One more question and then I'll let you go; did they ask you to contact them just before you get home tonight?"

I just nod and then Miranda breaks out into a healthy laugh and then warns me, "Let's just say you shouldn't be shocked if you see at the very least a 'Welcome Home, Courtney' banner when you go back to Sheltered Shrubs."

"Are you sure?" I ask that because I have this feeling in my mind that while I am home for work, my folks are going to encourage me to keep my time there about work. Sure, my mom will certainly dote on me for the deals I've made and dad will admire that some of his business sense beyond insider trading rubbed off on one of his kids, but things are different than when I was 12 years old. Not bad, just different and that includes more frugality and a much more critical eye to adult matters.

"I'll bet you the first five dinners together when you come back that they'll throw a party in your honor. Deal?" She then brings out her hand so we can shake on her bet. No harm in it for me, though when I return it would probably be Miranda and Tara treating me to a welcome back dinner bet or no bet.

I firmly shake her hand, then give her a hug of my own followed by a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Take care Miranda and hold it together while I'm gone. Do you promise?"

Nodding her head, she says, "I promise, Courtney. Now knock it out of the park. Ginger is...a hell of an author. It shouldn't be hard, but...nothing's guaranteed. Roll with the punches and you'll get whatever you're looking for in this job."

"Thanks," I say, holding my thoughts of the actual sincere compliment that Miranda just gave to Ginger. I looked up in the clear blue sky for the scant possibility that a pig just sprouted wings and come back a little disappointed. Evolution really does take time...if one is to believe in that sort of thing.

Miranda has made her way to the driver's side of her bright red Tesla and opened the door. A wave from her and a 'goodbye' causes me to wave back and then turn around in the direction of departures as it's now time to check my three bags and great ready to go to work.

The phone rings in my office while I'm just minutes from wrapping up my work for the day. Today, most of my writing is going towards an interview I'm doing for a magazine and I'm about finished. Kai got invited to a birthday party/sleepover tonight into Saturday afternoon and I have to prepare her checklist after she gets home from school. My plan was to finish this before then, but most of you already know how plans may go.

Caller ID shows 'Westwood Mktg' on the phone. I've been looking forward to this call as the head of this company, Reid Mackaulay, is the liaison between me and this expert marketer expected to come by Saturday unless those wonderful plans do what they often do. I've only met Mack once at a film festival in Toronto last September. The good publicity from my short story collection allowed a few additional doors to open for me including a supporting role in an independent drama.

While in the lobby before the film premiere, I ran into him and told him about issues with my old publisher and being mostly blackballed by agent houses in the Greater New York City area for daring to raise questions about my business affairs.

After informing him of my writing credentials he agreed to read my memoir, short story collection, a draft of my novel and then get back to me if he saw something adaptable for the screen, either big or small. By the start of the new year, he called me back asking if there had been any changes in my representation. I told him 'no' and then he thanked me for sending him my books. From there, Mack went into pitching me about the number of works he and his company have been able to convert into films. I could tell he wanted me under my wing, but he admitted that the distance makes it difficult. He had nothing but respect for me and my young family and said that he'll sit down and see if he can't get someone to help me here without having to spend several months out of town.

Several weeks ago, he called me to say he finally found an agent for me. Mack admitted that he was somewhat disappointed that he had to part with his best agent to get this done but made it clear that he wanted me under his marketing firm. I asked him to just make sure that the agent comes here safely and to run any legal matters through me before I sign off on anything.

As I pick up the phone, I'm happy to know that Mack kept his word with me as those matters I mentioned haven't taken over my time. Not only that, I've been able to focus on my different pet projects of mine like the multi-part interviews featuring Connecticut women at the top of their respective professions. This month, I'm putting the finishing touches on an interview and personal commentary with one of the top defense attorneys in the state.

Now is the time for me to make a big difference in my major project. Speaking to the other end of the line, I hear a familiar voice. "Hello, am I speaking to Ginger Foutley?"

"Yes, this is she."

"Ginger, this is Reid with Westwood and Beyond. How are you?"

"Doing well, and yourself?"

"Great. Listen, Ginger. Your agent is on her way to Connecticut. She knows the way there and has a place to stay so that's all covered on her end."

"Fantastic. If all goes well, I should see her by Saturday, right?"

"That's right. No later than Saturday afternoon."

"So, that's about it except...based on our previous conversations you still don't want to know who this person is?"

I smirk at that question, but then answer, "Mack, it really doesn't matter. Let me tell you this; whenever you've informed me of something, it happened just as you said. Do you know how hard it is not only to take people on their contracts, but also their words? You're a rare breed and I respect that. I trust that when you say she is the best among your crew, you mean it. The fact you told me you were disappointed in losing her let me know you weren't just trying to blow smoke up my backside."

"Okay, I respect your decision and if she's not there by Saturday afternoon, just call me on my cell."

"Will do, Mack, and thank you."

"Is there anything else you'd like me to go through while I'm on the line?"

"No, that's about it," I answer. "Again, you've covered everything and I appreciate it. My daughter's coming home from school in 15 minutes, so..."

"Say no more, Ginger," Mack replies. "Take care of what's most important and though I seriously doubt it will happen let me know of any issues that might come up with the deal. On the other hand, if she's going over and beyond with her strategies you can drop a compliment my way, you understand?"

"I trust your charge will be the utmost professional, Reid, but I have your number just in case."

"Okay. Best wishes, Ginger."

"Same to you, and take care."

"Thanks," I say before hanging up the phone and then leaving my office to go to the front door. I usually don't wait by the school bus stop for Kai because it is less than two blocks away from home. Tonight, however, is not a regular night as Kai has her first overnight sleepover with a few of her classmates.

When Darren gets home, we'll get together with her and gather everything she needs for the party. It's something we've been talking about for the past four weeks and we're all happy for Kai finding friends and growing so quickly.

My mom, bless her, told me that I would be amazed at how quickly Kai would grow up. As I make my way to the bus stop to get my girl prepared for the first of many potential social gatherings, I start to reminisce. I like to do that less and less the older I get for many reasons, but when it comes to Kai it always confirms what mom told me. She's been right more often than she's been wrong...on most matters.

For a six-year-old, she is like me in her desire to learn and a noticeable amount of creativity. It wouldn't surprise me if she had a school path similar to my brother's friend Blake and skipped a grade or two. In due time, like all things, but going along with her educational exploits I also notice she is always reminding myself, Darren and her fellow classmates to keep a smile on their face. She's popular relative to a first grader, but doesn't let that get to her head at all.

As I wait for the bus, I hope Kai can keep a tight circle of friends. Though we may not meet up as often now as in high school, I so value our time together and am glad to know that all of us are doing well. Macie and Hoodsey, a pairing I certainly didn't think would happen, are doing tremendously in our nation's capital. Macie is moving up the ranks as an emergency physician while Hoodsey, also known as R. J. Bishop, does his weekly TV show to great success. I know it's prime viewing most Friday nights for Darren and I. Then there's Dodie. I would've never thought she would end up in Delaware as an assistant to a judge in corporate law. Dodie Zipper, married with children to our old classmate Chet, is also an adjunct law professor at the University of Delaware and would like to either become a judge in the state (they call them 'Chancellors') or enter into state house politics. She does all of that while Chet splits his time between being on the board of directors for the largest solar power utility in the state and crafting handmade furniture. Between them they have two kids, a five-year old daughter named Dana Jolene and a two-year old son Cody Samuel.

We've all made a success of our lives and I am firm in my belief that it wouldn't have happened without the support of one another. Well, I see the bus now as it's making a stop before it comes my way. I'll soon be walking Kai home and getting her ready as, just like me in first grade, the 'no homework on Friday' policy remains in effect...unless something changed for this particular weekend.

As the door to the bus opens, about 15 or so kids file out with Kai being one of the last to get off the vehicle. She waves to me and we come together in a big hug while I steal a kiss on the cheek. We walk home together and I get the ball rolling with some conversation.

"Are you ready for tonight, Kai?"

"Yes, mommy," she answers.

"So no homework tonight, right?"

"Right." I figured as much but just needed to be sure.

"Okay. Daddy should be home soon and everything will be ready then. You excited?"

"Yes. My first sleepover with friends, mommy! Not grandma, grandpa or Uncle Carl, but friends!"

I have to chuckle. Her enthusiasm is infectious and I wish I could bottle that and get a daily supply. Perhaps the answer is there all along given that she's a kid. There is no reason, other than 'because', for her to be happy and she just is. We can learn a lot from kids if we take some time and not overthink life as much as we do these days. I know I learn so much from Kai and hope to do the same as she's bound to learn from me, including a few details as we get back home.

"Kai, let's go inside and we can talk about my first sleepover. Sound good?"

"Was it with Aunt Dodie and Aunt Macie?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Cool! I'd love to hear it!" she says as we enter our home. Beyond that story about my first sleepover I do have a few planned words of advice for Kai. They include just being herself, enjoying the party, being respectful of her friend's parent's home and-most important-having fun. She knows her home phone number including me and Darren's cell numbers in the event of an emergency. I'm sure she knows most of this by heart, but I don't mind telling her again and making sure she's on top of these details.

Kai is quite observant and receptive to what Darren and I teach her. Not only that, when it's time for her to learn a lesson, even when it's not explicit, she gets it. I couldn't ask for more in a child and for all the success in my life, including the future successes to come, she's my greatest accomplishment.

No question.

'Wait a minute. What's this?' I felt a vibration in my pocket and that means someone is probably texting me. I'm doing all I can to keep any work away from Kai tonight in the event that this message is work-related so I tell my daughter to go upstairs and that I'll be just a minute.

She happily obliges and the moment I no longer hear footsteps going upstairs, I pull out my phone and notice a message from Claire Gripling. It reads:

Surprise welcoming party at the Gripling House tonight starting at 10pm. Light hors d'oeuvres, drinks and desserts will be served. You and Darren are invited. RSVP via text by 8pm. -Claire

I have to shake my head, but I should first explain. Prescott and Claire Gripling now live...no more than five minutes from Darren, Kai and I. We personally don't like to consider ourselves rich, but such are the perks of a growing businessman like Darren and a best-selling author like yours truly. We are well-to-do...so I suppose you could calls us-anyway, every couple of months or so, they'll have a get-together with neighbors, friends or other guests of honor, including surprise birthday parties. After working his way back from the insider trading scandal for reasons I'm still not sure, both Griplings have made concerted efforts to make a greater impact within our community.

Darren and I have been to a few of the parties and while they are not as extravagant as a birthday party for their children when we were kids, they are still quite a lot of fun. Many are done for certain causes that have arisen like someone losing a job and needing assistance with bills or rent. Another one was to welcome new neighbors, yet another party was held for one of my old classmates, Mipsy, graduating from the University of Chicago Law School and another one of note brought attention to helping local Wish Kids. I do admire them for keeping us aware of these matters, but I also feel that the rest of us in the neighborhood can do similar things. It doesn't take money as much as it takes awareness and organization to do what the Griplings are doing right now.

Some of the parties, like this one, are impromptu. I hadn't heard anything about someone being welcomed, but it might be another of Gripling's old friends. They tend to be frequent guests of honor and, to be honest, many of them can be a lot of fun. I don't know. Friday's would usually be spent with my husband and daughter, but Kai is going to her sleepover leaving me and Darren to our own devices for the night. We had no plans beyond watching Hoodsey's show, which we can certainly DVR for another time. It's possible he could be interested. I'm...kind of interested, but I don't want to confirm anything until we talk.

As I head upstairs, I put my phone back into my front pocket. Kai comes first tonight. Regarding the party, I'm all but certain Darren got a similar text from Prescott. Their quite persuasive in a manner of speaking. So should we decide to go, Kai obviously can't call home for help. I'll just have to let her know that the first call she should make would be to either of our cell numbers, but I'm sure she'll understand. She's been to a couple of surprise parties with us. We'll just let her know that that's were we are just in case.

Que sera sera as far as that's concerned, though. For now, it's story and prep time for Kai and I.

Oh and what a time it is, indeed, for my family and me.

So baggage claim went well, I had no issues with my ticket or boarding pass, the security line was short given the time of the day, and I sat in a window seat on United Airlines flight 1427 to Chicago. The layover in O'Hare lasted about 90 minutes at which point I was able to eat a late lunch, secure the Uber and then before I knew it I touched down at New York's LaGuardia Airport just before 9 p.m. rested and ready to come home. While here, I make good on a promise and shoot Miranda a text.

Beyond vacation time, I don't make that many trips outside of California. There just isn't any need given that most talents I consult come to me. It feels strange not having to concern myself with things like my departure ticket or the weather for the trip back to Los Angeles. In that case I might have to skim through a farmer's almanac, but there are a lot of things I'll just have to get used to while on my present journey.

For instance, as I recollected earlier this morning, I don't have the use of my car for another two days. My car brings with it a level of independence that is undeniable, but also reflects upon my present situation perfectly. Here I am in a situation that is familiar in helping a talent get to where she wants to go in her career. Despite that, and for all my success, I feel as if I come into this situation at a disadvantage. When I don't know the person at a personal level, it's obvious that I must keep things professional. But the moment I come through Ginger's door and announce myself as 'Courtney Gripling of Westwood and Beyond Marketing' I just know that we aren't going to be rolling off the tarmac properly.

I'm here to work, no doubt. Ginger might think that I'm sent from heaven above once she sees me. She might consider my presence after so many years as a good omen, but...I can't lie. None of that matters to me. I go into a professional atmosphere and don't want to leave my relationship with said person in those strict confines. I do want to be friends with her while I have this job to do, at the very least, and I don't see that as an outrageous idea. She, along with Miranda much later, was probably the best friend I ever had and I only became better friends with Miranda after my brief time with Ginger. That's the good news, for sure. I just don't get why Ginger loves surprises so much that she told Mack she didn't even care who would come through the door of her home. Credit it to blind faith or Mack's magic touch, but she's unknowingly got me on eggshells for the next 12-18 hours between now and our initial meeting.

There will be time to consider that later as my Uber ride is here. I've been outside the LaGuardia arrivals for about 10 minutes holding up a sheet of paper with my driver's name for this very moment. His name is Sean and he helps me put my bags into the trunk of his BMW.

We chat for a bit. I explain that I'm here on an extended business trip and Sean tells me that he's doing this to supplement his income for his main position as an attorney for the New York/New Jersey Port Authority. The talk actually makes an hour-long trip breeze by as before I know it, we're on I-95 en route to Connecticut. Around this time Miranda responds to my text telling me to be safe and that she'll be keeping me in her prayers. I respond with a simple 'Thank you. I love you'.

Sean and I ask each other some varied questions about our work including our clients and a standard work day and as I go back to the reason why this assignment is so unique, I hear a familiar street name spoken from the on-board GPS. Just a few more minutes and I will be home at...about 10:30 p.m. I give my mom and dad a text letting them know that I'm on my way and just seconds later they thank me and tell me that they'll see me when I get there and to just ring or knock when I arrive.

As we pull into the neighborhood, I can't help but notice several cars parked near the tennis courts about a block from my folks' home. Their driveway is clear as the garage holds both their cars. Sean parks the BMW in the driveway and we work together to get my bags out from the trunk.

"Thanks, Sean," I tell him shaking his hand.

"You're welcome, Courtney," he replies adding, "Good luck signing your friend up to the agency."

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it. Take care and keep those guys in the Port Authority on their toes." Sean gives me a sly smile and then makes his way back to his home in Brooklyn.

As I turn around, the realization sets in; I'm back home. Not in the home I grew up in, but this place will take some getting used to and I'll have plenty of time to do just that. It's dark inside, I see no light and one could presume that no one is home.

I bring my bags up to the front porch and then open the screen door. Heeding the words from my folks' text, I ring the doorbell twice. After a second I hear someone inside the house say, "It's open! Come in, Courtney!"

That sounded like my father, so I turn the handle and find myself having to quickly adjust to scenery changes. Suddenly the houselights come on and several people pop out of hiding to yell, "Surprise!"

I look up for a bit and...I won't lie. My first thought as I saw the 'Welcome Home, Courtney' banner was not about the bill of goods my folks tried to sell me about not being overly exited for my return. It wasn't even about the planning that must have happened to pull this off and make me not believe that several of my old neighbors and friends would convene in my parent's home. My first thought, as mom and dad come up to me for hugs and kisses, is that Miranda knew this is exactly how things would take place.

'I don't know how she called it,' I ponder while still holding a face of downright shock. I don't know why I didn't expect this...but I'm certainly glad to have it. Not out of ego, but encouragement.

My father, Prescott, has a vice-like grip on me, surpassing that of Miranda's from earlier this morning. I should've known. It's been a long time since I've been here, but the moment they wrapped their arms around me, it felt like I've never left. It was overwhelming, no doubt. They had me for a bit but I don't care. It's so damn good to be back.

After exchanging personal pleasantries with me, Mom and Dad reached over towards a glass table grabbing two flute glasses filled with champagne. "Attention everyone!" dad says to the attendees.

They quickly quiet down and I hear dad say, "I want to propose a toast. I feel as if those of us who have children will understand me when I say...that we have absolutely nothing but the best expectations for our kids. I'm quite comfortable in saying that. The good Lord has blessed Claire and I with two children. Blake, who's doing absolutely fantastic work with the education of girls in East Africa along with his wife Morowa, and Courtney, who is making a tremendous mark in the entertainment and marketing world in Los Angeles.

"Many years ago, I would've been...ecstatic had you told me that one of my kids would follow in the footsteps of their father and enter the business and financial world. My time away gave me more than just perspective. I had so much time to think and while matters developed at home, like Courtney going to UCLA for school and Blake foregoing the Ivy League, I was still proud of them. No matter what, they were doing what they wanted to do. That made all the difference for me.

"Maybe they did things I didn't understand at first or wasn't sure of, but...they had to forge their own path. Where they are in life is where they are meant to be, and looking with a keen eye, that's just fine. I'm so thankful for my loving wife and being in the land of second chances. I'm also thankful for everyone coming here this evening on such short notice. Once we got the word from Courtney confirming that she'd be here on time, we started getting everything ready. I really appreciate you all making my only girl feel right at home.

"Speaking of that," my dad says, directing these comments my way, "Thank you, Courtney. You've been, all at once, a tremendous joy, a true test for your mother and I, a free spirit, a headstrong working woman in your profession and probably the reason why most of my hair is now gray." Okay, looking back that is probably true and I do laugh along with the house guests. I don't mind poking fun at myself once in a while.

"But most of all," he continues, "You've been exactly who you were meant to be, a good person, and the best daughter a father could ever want. Good luck with your business deal and all other endeavors you face during this time."

Dad raises his glass and Mom joins him, saying, "To our daughter and your good friend and loved one, Courtney Gripling!"

The guests, in unison, chant 'Hear, hear!' while clanging their flute glasses together. Now as I turn my focus away from my folks, I get a good view of those in attendance. Many are neighbors I got to know after our first move from the mansion and our second move to Hartford. A few are relatives and a scant few more are classmates. I do my best to greet everyone and thank them for coming while also declining every single offer of champagne given to me. Will power is the name of the game this Friday evening.

I don't mind the occasional glass of bubbly, but a morning hangover is the last thing I need. Certain beverages to me are like potato chips-I can't have just one. There's no drinking problem for me and no, I'm not in denial. Like gambling, I know and keep my limits for social gatherings where I'm not wearing my business hat. I would prefer, for tomorrow, a perfectly clear head as opposed to a slightly buzzed one. Thankfully, everyone understands as I get no grief for saying 'no' to at least five offers.

The party lasts until just before midnight as the light refreshments keep the celebration at a moderate level for the evening. Most guests actually leave around 11 p.m. and, frankly, that's perfectly fine by me. I do need my sleep and as people file out, I lend a helping hand with my folks to clean up. Even that is no problem as just a few dishes and glasses need to be washed while a few prepared food containers are thrown into the recycling bin.

After finishing the dishes I wash my hands in the sink. Dad walks up to me and after tapping me on the shoulder he asks, "Did you enjoy the party?"

"Yes, sir," I respond. Looking around I ponder, "Where's mom?"

"She went to bed," he answers. "Your mother planned most of this party, so I don't blame her if she's tired. You can thank her in the morning. Look, Courtney, I'll be up early to meet up with my club members for golf, so if you don't see me, that's the reason. I...I don't want you to be concerned. Both of us invited the Patterson's, they accepted on short notice and were here, but...about half an hour before you arrived they told us they had to leave for an emergency. I think something happened with their daughter. Claire told me before going upstairs that it wasn't urgent, but they had to bring her back home."

Just my luck. I bring my head down for a few seconds. No use in lamenting what could have been. This social gathering would've been a great time to break the ice. As my dad further explained, the party would have not one but two planned surprises. One, the obvious, being my return back East and two, the revelation that Ginger's public relations mediator would be yours truly. I'll never fault parents for being there for their kids at the drop of a hat and I'm glad that, based on what I'm hearing, Ginger's daughter will be fine.

"Thanks for letting me know, dad," I tell him while patting him on the shoulder. "I know you did what you could, but it just wasn't meant to be. Nothing I can do about it except go to her home. She's in for one whale of a surprise tomorrow...and I don't say this for you to blab to anyone, but it's her fault."

That got a hearty chuckle out of my dad and a shake of the head before he assures me, "No one will know. Go get some sleep, Courtney. Tomorrow's...just make tomorrow fun, okay?"

"As fun as my work can be, which is a lot, I'll do my best. Good night, dad." He tells me the same adding a kiss on the forehead and I go up the stairs to a hallway with several rooms. After looking around for a bit, I notice one door with a sheet of paper taped to the outside. I see the faint pencil marks with the words 'Courtney's Room' written. I remove the sign and see a little bit more on the bottom left. It's a note asking that I speak with mom before I see Ginger on Saturday. Opening the door to the room, I find my luggage at the foot of the bed as expected. My dad took a break from the party to send it up to this guest room.

It's a pretty conservative room painted in a light yellow with matching sheets on the queen size bed, a small closet, two side tables with matching lamps, a flat screen television attached to the wall over top of a dresser drawer and a door leading to what I can only presume is the guest bathroom. Opening the door confirms that to be true as someone hung new washcloths and towels for use.

"Well, time to make myself at home," I declare before opening one of my bags containing toiletries. I've been traveling for too many hours to count on top of a nice little party. It's now time to wind down and get back in gear. I undress to take a shower and reopen the bathroom door to wash away the smell of fervent travel.

I'm ready. Strange enough 3,000 miles in the air, a three hour time zone difference, a hour-long car drive and two hour party didn't tire me out that much. But the moment I saw a room and a bed, the yawn birds made their presence felt.

So maybe I won't get eight hours of sleep tonight. That's fine. I honestly can't remember the last time I've done that. If I get a deep sleep for six hours, though, I'll be fired up and ready to bring my "A" game.

I'll need that-my best work-even more than a good night's sleep...even though they tend to go hand in hand. The point is, I need to hit these showers and then lay my head down with the intention to dream visions of signed contracts and promotional dealings.

As I've learned, think on the right things. Do that and it doesn't matter where you stand, your grass will be green.

Damn, I'm on another tangent. Keep thinking about that and I'll wake up in a cold sweat...or worse.

One tradition in the Ortiz-Killgallen household for most Friday nights is sitting down to a series of movies with each wife choosing two of their own. During slow parts, like this one in an action movie, Miranda enjoys cuddling with Tara. They are not yet at the point where the baby bump interferes with foreplay, but Miranda knows that that time is soon to come.

For now, Miranda makes the most of the moment by making her queen feel just like that by rubbing her bare feet with scented warming oils. They claim to 'heighten sensual awareness and provide an obvious point of contact for the optimum pleasure for you and your partner'. Dubious by the inability to fact check such language, it makes no difference to either woman as they do find sex to last longer and be much more fulfilling combined with pregnancy; something they were told to anticipate.

While doing this, Miranda hears her phone by the side table of their bedroom. It's not a phone call but a text. Despite that, Miranda stops her foot rub and grabs her phone much to the chagrin of her wife. "Really, Miri? During our time?"

Looking back towards Tara, she gives the younger woman a skeptical look. "What?" she questions while bringing the phone with her back to her wife's location at the foot of the bed. "It could be business. Just one minute and we'll get back to our business." Turning on the phone, she sees one message from Courtney. Opening the message, she sees a photo showing the lobby of a home with a large banner hanging from the walls with the words 'Welcome Home, Courtney' and a five-word caption at the bottom reading, 'You have five. Choose wisely.'

Miranda laughs like she has no care in the world. Tara turns her head wanting to know what was so funny about that message and Miranda just shows her...

Causing Tara do to the exact same.

After coming off their laughing spell, Tara has to admit what Courtney already knew. "You sure know how to call them, Miri!"

Soon it will be time to book reservations for the best five-star restaurants in Southern California for their 'Welcome Back' to Courtney this fall.

A/N: Chapter five will focus on the boys again while six has the Courtney/Ginger confrontation...finally. Anyone wanting some further insight into this story, I recommend they check out my deviantArt page (address in the profile) for character and story notes of mine. If you have a request for any character, you can leave it there or drop me a PM.

Until next time, this is Rave!