Serendipity

by xfphile

The night that Sam and Nick Radford officially moved to Middleton was normal. Uneventful. Completely and totally unremarkable. Just a man and his son, moving to small-town America for a fresh start. It changed everything. Only . . . it didn't change anything.

7. Big Trouble in Little China (1-2)

As always, the deepest and most heartfelt of thanks must go to lawand_disorder, who not only heroically threw herself in front of this monster to beta read it, but also suffered my frequent screams of frustration at some of the illogic of Season 1 with grace, patience, and more alcoholic chocolate than is really healthy.

And thank you again for everyone who is reading, commenting, and leaving kudos on this fic; I love hearing from you guys and really enjoy seeing your thoughts on my perspective of our beloved show.

Speaking of . . . on with it!

---

Big Trouble in Little China (1/2)

Four days after that thrice-cursed Heritage Ball, Sam finally got a break at work and took a few precious seconds to just breathe.

The fact that he couldn't do so until after he was officially closed for the day was . . . well, something. He had yet to decide what.

It seemed that coming to the rescue of the town's Romantically Wounded Prince (Sam grimaced at his own thought, hating how accurate it was) had finally cemented the people's positive opinion of him, and they had come to see him.

In droves.

And while it was great to finally be treating more than Single Women On A Mission, Sam was exhausted, especially given that he'd had no warning this change was going to occur. Also, he still didn't have a receptionist, and since his skills in that area were . . . well, lacking, his ability to be a good doctor was severely hampered by his inability to be a halfway decent receptionist.

In other words, he was drowning.

And no one had answered his 'Help Wanted' sign, which he found strange in the minute or so he had to think about it before sleep dragged him under for the few hours he got before doing it all over again.

Maybe he could ask Cassie to help him find someone? She knew everyone (and their dog, he'd been bemused to discover) and they were close enough now that he knew she would help him find the perfect person.

It had only been four days, but he took another few precious seconds to marvel at how quickly their friendship had bloomed once she . . . well, he could only speculate (because he sure as hell wasn't going to ask her to verify his thought) on the cause, but he suspected that she finally felt safe around him because he knew that she was taken. And maybe his feelings should be hurt by that, but he got it. He wasn't romantically interested in her at all, but he did care a great deal about her (and Grace, something he took no pains to hide) and he was starting to understand more how her — intuition? Yeah, that was a good word — how her intuition worked. She knew that he cared for her and, given that she was female and he was male, it wasn't a great leap to assume romantic interest.

There wasn't, of course. He wasn't remotely — well, 'remotely' might be a little too — okay, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for there to be romantic interest, but . . .

Right. So, he wasn't interested in romance with her, really, but her assumption wasn't unreasonable.

So, now that she felt safe with him, their relationship w—

jinglejingle

The jangle of his door opening caught his attention and Sam held back a sigh as his freedom waved goodbye (no, actually, it flipped him off), looking up at —

Stephanie. Carrying what his body desperately hoped was caffeine.

Well.

"I saw the light. Thought you might need this," she said, giving him a smile and the coffee cup.

He grinned in return, thankful beyond words for the drink; he was exhausted and still had another hour or so of work left.

"Ah!" he exclaimed appreciatively, earning a wider smile from her.

"I take it business is good?" she asked rhetorically, giving him a knowing look.

"This is my first break today," he confirmed, taking a long drink and savoring that slightly-bitter flavor of well-brewed coffee.

"Okay, you need to hire a receptionist," she informed him (which would have annoyed Sam, had he been less tired. He was trying to!).

"Or a nurse, or a barista," she added coyly, and he swallowed.

Oh, he'd thought they were past this.

He had every intention of asking her out, but he simply hadn't had the time to do it. And since that was something she was well-aware of, given her presence now, why was she back to the heavy-handed flirtation?

But his inherent manners prevented him from saying anything to that effect, so he just chuckled softly and thanked her for her thoughtfulness in bringing him coffee.

At his words, her expression suddenly shifted to . . . bashful?

Huh. That was odd.

"I had a really good time at the dance the other night, thanks to you," she told him, and mentally, he went very still.

Ah.

It was truly a shame he couldn't agree, but since that had nothing whatsoever to do with her, Sam only nodded.

"Hmm," he said neutrally. "It was not a dull evening, that's for sure."

His voice wasn't as even as he wanted (or his expression, probably), but thankfully, she didn't notice, instead pressing on with her true intentions for coming to see him.

"Would you like to have another not-so-dull evening?" she asked, meeting his eyes steadily while still, somehow, looking a little uncertain.

And there it was.

Sam leaned back in his chair and just looked at her in silence, taking the opportunity to draw out the moment. Her forwardness didn't bother him at all, but he wasn't going to let her steamroll him, either.

Been there, done that, got the divorce.

No, if they did this, it was going to be as equals, and she needed to understand that.

Like, now.

The silence swiftly became awkward and he was mildly amused when she quickly broke it with a plea for him to say something.

And yes, it was time. She had chased him long enough and he was done with being chased. It was time to see what was waiting for them at the finish line.

With a deep breath, he nodded and held her eyes as he said, "Dinner," watching as hope slowly crept across her face, competing with surprise at his easy capitulation. "Okay? Friday night?" he added, suddenly feeling a little guilty for dragging this out the way he had. He hadn't been ready, but still. Her intentions and wants had been obvious, and though they'd both enjoyed the game, it was time to fish or cut bait, as everyone's grandfather used to say.

A look of fake surprise painted itself on her face as she replied, "I'd love to," though her smile was genuine, and Sam felt another stab of honest amusement. It was good that Stephanie had a sense of humor, and he was cautiously optimistic that this could turn into something good.

It was going to be interesting to see what Cassie's take on it was.

The incongruity of that thought never crossed his mind.

{{**}}

Four days after the Heritage Ball, life had settled into a relatively comfortable pattern.

Cassie and Ryan were happy, though they still hadn't made any kind of formal announcement of their status as a couple. To her surprise, Ryan hadn't pushed things, though in retrospect, it made sense: between his ongoing victory high over finally expelling Annie and Mark from his life and his new job collaboration with Ben Jones, Ryan was . . . distracted. Yeah, that was a good word.

He was so distracted, in fact, that they hadn't actually gone on a date since the ball, though his text messages and phone calls were frequent.

Cassie tried very hard to be bothered by the fact that this didn't bother her.

She really needed to figure out what was wrong with her and was rather guiltily grateful that Grace provided an ideal and timely distraction, and had the rueful observation that it was a good thing her daughter was so good-natured. Otherwise, she would be experiencing a great deal more trouble with the shark-infested waters that passed itself off as high school.

Of course, being told by a child who hadn't actually lived through that experience yet that she 'just didn't get it' suppressed a great deal of Cassie's empathy.

Being informed that she was old was icing on the cake.

Sam would be choking with laughter if he heard this — though to be fair, he did. Nick did not pull punches when it came to his dad.

"True, true," she drawled, smiling inwardly at Lori's amusement. "But with age comes wisdom," she added, watching in satisfaction when Grace absorbed that and nodded slowly. Pleased that her daughter had least registered her advice, even if she ultimately decided not to heed it, Cassie pulled out the gift she'd been holding all day, waiting for the right time to give it to announce itself.

"For you," she told Grace, smiling gently at the young woman's eagerness at seeing it, tempered by confusion though it was.

"A . . . compass?" she asked, taking it with sure hands and a puzzled expression.

"That was Dad's," Lori explained, her own expression soft.

"From when he was a scout," Cassie confirmed, giving her stepdaughter a gentle look before turning her attention back to Grace. "I just happened to find it in some boxes at the store today," she added, observing the emotions flickering across her daughter's face. "Or maybe it found me," she contemplated out loud, considering that idea for the first time.

Stranger things had happened.

"But I have a feeling it's for you," she said to Grace, smiling a little at the teenage scoff she got in reply.

"Daddy was, like, eight when he had this," Grace stated a little condescendingly. "And I'm practically sixteen. And I'm a girl," she finished, putting the compass on the table and pushing it back to her mother.

Their daughter's rejection of her father's treasured compass hurt a little, though it was tempered with Cassie's understanding that Grace simply didn't realize what she had been given.

But it was still painful to see.

"You know," Cassie began with a sigh. "Your father always said he never felt lost when he had this compass."

"But I'm not lost," Grace protested with a slight shrug.

And Cassie . . . had no answer that her daughter would understand.

She wished she could talk to Sam, but he was so busy with work now that there was no telling when he'd actually make it home.

Another plus of the Heritage Ball was that Cassie and Sam's friendship had warmed up even more. Her revelation to him that she was dating Ryan had created the exact result she'd intended and she was finally able to enjoy talking and bantering (and, yes, arguing) with him without any guilt or fear of unwanted feelings.

He was safe for her, now.

They'd grown so comfortable with each other in those four days, in fact, that Sam no longer had any compunction about wandering into Grey House when the mood struck him, though Cassie wasn't quite as comfortable going to his place. Still, it was nice and . . . relaxing . . . knowing that they were equally content to either talk about whatever came to mind or simply sit in silence while he unwound from his increasingly-long days and she simply basked in his undemanding presence.

But neither of them thought it the least bit odd that they had gotten so close, so quickly.

And if sometimes she wondered why she couldn't find that safe, easy rhythm with Ryan, well . . . they were dating. It made sense that there would be a little tension.

(only . . . that had never been an issue for her and Jake once they'd learned to trust each other)

She was happy that things were going so well for Sam professionally, but she did miss him during the reasonable hours of the day. Still, he'd probably meander in to her kitchen in search of food and coffee (which he would drink in the form of tea, grumbling the entire time and not meaning a word of it) at a ridiculously late hour, so she would prepare a pasta dish and save some blueberry crumble for him.

And their new, nightly get-together would soothe her enough that she would sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that he was home and safe, as were their children, and all was right in her world for another night.

That was something that Ryan didn't — and couldn't — give her.

But it was a lack that she didn't notice, because Sam . . .

Well, he had stepped up to be what she needed.

And what she needed was someone to fill in the cracks of her relationship with Ryan.

This should have concerned her, sending up red warning flags and obnoxious sirens.

And it did.

But in an ever-deepening trend, Cassie refused to acknowledge this.

Because Sam was safe and would protect her.

Even from herself.

{{**}}

Seeing Cassie's reaction to her cousin truly shocked Sam, though he managed to hide it until he and Nick got home.

But Cassie . . . she'd actually looked rattled.

And that violated at least two known laws of the universe that Sam was aware of.

He badly wanted to go back over and see her, talk to her, make sure she was okay, but he knew very well how long catching up could take (which, cousin? He'd thought she had no other family.), so he contented himself with a text message.

Need anything? Tea, talk . . . vegan ice cream?

In the nearly ten minutes it took her to reply with a negative on needing something and a 'thank you' for his concern, he actually paced himself dizzy, he was that disturbed.

And not sure why, other than Cassie's unusual demeanor. Abigail didn't give him any impression that she was dangerous, so . . .

Well, maybe Cassie's reaction didn't have anything to do with her cousin; could it be Ryan? He hadn't seen the other man at Grey House since the ball, and given that they were a couple, that was . . . well, strange. If Sam was dating Cassie, you could be damn sure he'd be dating Cassie: taking her out as often as their schedules would allow (and they wanted to go) and by her side whenever possible, drinking their respective beverages of choice and cuddling on the couch or just arguing over something goofy at the mailbox. If you weren't doing those things, then why were you dating?

So Sam came to the conclusion that Ryan was the cause of Cassie's strange attitude (and could not figure out if he was pleased or annoyed at the prospect).

Not that he'd ask, of course. Friends they were, but they — he — well, that just wasn't a subject he was comfortable bringing up. If she wanted to talk, he would listen, but otherwise, he was perfectly fine to leave it be.

He was.

Really.

{{**}}

The frequency with which Sam appeared when she was thinking about him would have surprised (and possibly alarmed) anyone else. But Cassie wasn't 'anyone else' and in the last few days, she had gotten used to Sam just meandering in when he wanted to talk, or suspected that she did, no matter how late it was. But it was always through the back door.

So when he showed up at the main entrance before nine, curiosity was the overriding emotion, tempered though it was with a wariness she didn't quite understand.

Until he escorted Abigail through the door, and then her first thought was considerably less charitable than one might expect from Cassie Nightingale.

To be fair, a corresponding migraine sprang up from out of nowhere.

Well, wasn't this just lovely?

And as Abigail hugged her with what looked like genuine enthusiasm to the people around them, Cassie found herself wondering if it was too late to change her name to Helga and move to Iceland.

Because whatever her cousin was up to?

It was a safe bet that Middleton wouldn't be in one piece by the time she was done.

And she knew, with an unwavering certainty, that she was going to be stuck dead in the middle of . . . well, whatever this was.

Because Abigail was family, which meant that whatever she'd sensed that had drawn her here would be from Cassie or Grace — and Grace was fine.

So she was after something going on in Cassie's life . . . and she really, really didn't need any help with that.

Especially from Abigail, who neither possessed nor understood the idea of subtlety, and also had no concept of 'collateral damage.'

Yeah. Iceland and a name change were looking more attractive by the second.

{{**}}

Cassie would never know for sure if Abigail's arrival precipitated Grace's sudden, downward change in attitude and reasonableness, but as she argued with her teenager about not getting to see an R-rated movie, she reflected that knowing something was going to happen, half-heartedly expecting it, and actually experiencing it were three entirely different things.

And it wasn't something she really had the knowledge or the experience to handle, because her adolescence had been drastically different from Grace's, and so she had never gotten the 'teenage rebellion' rite of passage that virtually everyone else got to put their parents through.

Her cousin certainly didn't help, egging Grace on — in front of her mother — and then rubbing Jake's loss and absence in her face, though Cassie would admit she hadn't intended to do so. What puzzled and irked her in equal measure, though, was Abigail's attitude. The younger woman had lost both parents, just as Cassie had, and though the circumstances were different (the car wreck had been horrible, but Abigail's mom had died, and then her father had simply abandoned her, which was unfathomable to Cassie), the end result was the same: one lonely child, set adrift in a world where no one knew or could even be told about their abilities, and thus, no one to help them navigate the complexities of their particular reality.

One would have thought this would help them bond, become close, even.

Instead, the opposite seemed to have happened.

Which meant that Cassie had no earthly idea of why Abigail seemed hell-bent for leather on making trouble for her, other than because she could.

And, of course, asking her about it was like talking to a rock — well, actually, a rock would have given a concrete answer. Abigail just talked in circles, with the occasional riddle thrown in for good measure.

Had Cassie known how often people felt this frustrated after talking with her, she might well have decided to take a vow of silence.

But as it was, she was now fighting two wars: one with Grace, her need for independence, and the undeniable fact that she was, in fact, no longer a child, balanced against her mother's need to be, you know, her mother.

And the other against Abigail, with no idea what she was fighting or why, but knowing that failure was not an option.

God, she needed to vent to Sam.

She'd even buy real ice cream for the occasion.

Seeking out Ryan never crossed her mind.

{{**}}

When Ryan showed up at the Bell, Book, & Candle late that morning, Cassie was genuinely surprised to see him, especially since he was . . . perturbed.

"Hey," she greeted him, only to pause at his demeanor. "Uh, you look upset," she observed, frowning slightly.

"No, I'm not upset," he denied — badly — before rushing on with, "I'm confused and . . ."

Cassie gave him a knowing look when he trailed off and he capitulated with a slightly petulant, "Well, yeah, a little upset. For the record, you kissed me." His eyes were brimming with . . . a lot of things, none of which she wanted to deal with at the moment.

They hadn't talked about it once, not even after the ball that night, so Cassie was a little surprised to hear it now.

And wary, because this couldn't lead to anything good.

Especially since she hadn't found herself compelled to kiss him again.

See, she still wasn't ready . . . well, maybe it wasn't 'not ready' so much as 'unwilling' to make a public display of things. It just wasn't her style. And Ryan had nothing to do with it; she had been the same with Jake, but it hadn't been an issue because he had been of the same mind: their private life wasn't anyone's business but theirs. Sam would be the same, should he and Stephanie decide to go through with becoming a couple.

Ryan, though . . . he wanted validation and the outside assurance that he wasn't worthless, the way Annie had treated him and made him feel for so long. And if Middleton approved of him being with Cassie, well, that would also prove that he was a good man, one who deserved her.

Cassie understood that, truly, but . . . well, she was, by nature, an intensely private person. People knowing that she was dating Ryan was one thing (and what that stupid ball was supposed to accomplish), but making a formal announcement?

The thought made her cringe.

Especially because she was more and more concerned that they would never find middle ground on this.

Oblivious to her racing thoughts, Ryan started to speak again.

Could she head this off?

"I did," she agreed quickly. "And it worked, but one moment doesn't change everything."

"But it was a really great moment," he countered, somehow looking both lost and hopeful, and pulling a sigh from her. "And change is part of the natural order of things," he added — which was a fair point, Cassie conceded.

"Why am I telling you this?" he wondered aloud, giving her a rueful look. "You know more about this stuff than I do."

Which . . . yeah, okay, she'd give him that.

"It's life," he said softly, but with a surprising conviction. "You don't change, you die."

And . . . melodramatic much?

"Okay, you're overreacting," she replied, amused despite herself and turning away to hide her smile.

"And you are underreacting," he shot back, pacing her as she moved down the counter.

"Oh," she said a bit noncommittally, having no real idea how to respond to that, because in a way, he was absolutely right.

"What?" he asked a little sharply, catching her gaze and trying to compel a response. Cassie merely held his eyes and lit a candle, letting her silence say everything.

"It's not like I'm asking you to marry me," he said with exasperation, his eyes narrowing a little.

Only because he knew she would refuse.

Oh, that was . . . not something she wanted to think about. At all.

He took her soft scoff of disbelief as amusement and pressed on.

"I'm just asking you to be brave enough to acknowledge the fact that we are, in fact, together," he said earnestly.

. . . ouch.

That . . . that was not unreasonable.

It wasn't.

But—

She sighed, letting him see a little of the vulnerability she still had about Jake.

And the ways their lives would change if she gave in to what he thought he wanted.

"I just don't want to lose the one thing that got me through the toughest time of my life. You," she told him quietly, willing him to understand where she was coming from.

And why.

Because she knew full well that once she and Ryan were officially, publically known as a couple, externally, everything would change. The entire town would start treating them differently and public privacy (an oxymoron, yes, but something that was essential to her) would vanish. The way they were now meant that they could go out to dinner, on a date, and no one would bat an eye, idle curiosity notwithstanding. But once people knew, then all eyes would be on them (and she wished she was exaggerating, but Cassie knew her town and its residents well, and yes, it would be 'all eyes'), waiting breathlessly for (and talking about the lack of) a proposal, and then a house and a baby and —

Well, basically, the whole town would be involved in her entire life.

And she would never get a reprieve.

It would be different for Sam, because he was an outsider.

And, frankly, he wouldn't put up with it.

But Cassie just wasn't prepared to give her life over to everyone else, not even to make her boyfriend happy.

He gave her a soft look and quietly but emphatically said, "You are never gonna lose me."

And that terrified her, because Jake had given her the same promise.

"Yeah. You can't make a guarantee like that," she replied, hurt and loss threaded through every word.

Ryan was undaunted and simply replied, "Sure I can." His lips curved slightly in a gentle smile but Cassie shook her head. She was still too raw to trust in those words.

"It's a gamble," she insisted, refusing to concede because if she was proven right, it would destroy her.

And, to her shock, Ryan actually seemed to get that.

"Okay, look," he suggested, giving her a soulful look. "Let's just keep things like they are, okay?"

And she wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe for that, because he understood.

(it didn't occur to her to wonder at the incongruity of wanting to kiss her boyfriend for understanding her wish to be low-key, instead of wanting to kiss him because he was her boyfriend)

"Forget about the kiss and let me take you out. It's been too long," he said, tilting his head to better read her face. "I think . . . we need to go back to go forward," he added, a statement that startled Cassie because it showed an unusual depth of thought from him (not that he was shallow or stupid, but philosophical? Not so much.).

"You think?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm willing to bet on it," he answered with a smile before walking away.

Huh.

That had been . . . enlightening.

And a very positive development.

Things were finally starting to look up.

So why did she feel so uneasy?

{{**}}

When Abigail strolled into his office the next morning, Sam was frazzled, annoyed, and frustrated. Her arrival added confusion to the mix, though he would have given his left arm to take her up on her offer of coffee out of the office. Why he was surprised when she saw his trouble and promptly took over was a mystery, but Sam decided, after a moment of complete befuddlement, to roll with it. He'd worry about the logistics later, but for now, he'd gladly take the life jacket she had just thrown him (and her little stunt about reading that cancellation note upside down was the final proof anyone needed that she and Cassie were related).

And hey! He'd just solved his lack of a receptionist problem.

Which meant that his chances of actually being on time for his date with Stephanie had just tripled.

Sweet.

With that worry taken off his mind and shoulders, Sam should have been nearly euphoric, only . . . well, he'd learned the hard way (was there any other way to learn? he suddenly — and irreverently — wondered) that gift horses were never string-free.

But that was a thought he'd have to contemplate when he wasn't neck-deep in patients, so with a shrug, Sam headed back to Exam Room #2.

After all, Abigail was Cassie's cousin and Cassie was . . . well, Cassie.

How different could Abigail be?

{{**}}

Stephanie's not-at-all-subtle search for that magic 'something' that would see her engaged to Sam in a month and married by Christmas both amused and worried Cassie.

She really, truly, adored Stephanie, but her increasing determination to not be single was . . . well, becoming destructive. And Stephanie's steadfast refusal to see that Sam wasn't a man who would put up with being walked on, manipulated, or pushed into doing something he really didn't want was likely going to result in a spectacular explosion — or, actually, now that Cassie thought about it, end things with a whimper. Sam would just walk away.

On top of that, she truly didn't understand her friend's dogged pursuit of men who so clearly didn't want to be caught (she refused to contemplate why that made her think of Ryan), especially given how poorly that had worked out so far. But Stephanie, like so many other people, disliked hearing truths that ran contrary to what they wanted, so Cassie had to tread with caution.

"He isn't quite over his divorce," she said, watching her friend carefully. "There's still a lot of pain from his ex-wife he hasn't dealt with."

And even as she said it, Cassie was hit with the realization that Stephanie didn't have a clue about that.

Oh. Well, that explained a lot.

Proving her point, the blonde gave her a sage look and said, "Well, I think he really wants to be with me."

Umm . . .

"He just . . . he isn't quite there yet."

Wow.

Cassie was genuinely at a loss for words.

Did Stephanie really not hear the contradiction in her own thought?

"So, help me to help him get there, okay?" she pleaded, inadvertently putting Cassie between the proverbial rock and hard place.

Because Stephanie was a friend, and she wanted the absolute best for her.

But so was Sam.

And it was becoming increasingly obvious to Cassie that Sam and Stephanie were not the best for each other.

Only she couldn't say that. Stephanie wouldn't listen and Sam wouldn't appreciate her opinion when he hadn't asked for it (which was a sentiment she understood, though it was frustrating at times).

And now she was irritated in addition to being stymied, because she couldn't refuse to help Stephanie; this was what she did, after all.

But . . . by giving her what she thought she wanted, Cassie could at least accelerate things. For good or ill remained to be seen, and if Cassie took a slightly-dark satisfaction in choosing a scent worn by Cleopatra, well . . . she knew that Stephanie wouldn't see the flip side of the glamour, or remember how the Egyptian queen's story had ended.

Because Cassie wanted her to be happy. She really, truly did. And if that happiness came with Sam, then she would be the first person to congratulate them.

She would.

But Cassie Nightingale was a realist, and Sam Radford was quickly becoming her best friend.

And she would always do whatever she could to help and protect her friends.

Stephanie, oblivious to her thoughts, took a deep sniff of the perfume and mused, "Hmm. It's simple, classy . . . sexy."

They both laughed a little at that, though Cassie's was more than a bit forced.

"It's like 'me' in a bottle," the other woman concluded, smiling with pleasure. "Me and Cleo."

"Mm," Cassie said noncommittally, before giving her the only warning Stephanie might possibly listen to (not that she had high hopes for that, but the chance existed). "Now, it's pretty potent, so, uh, use with discretion."

An arch, knowing look greeted her words before she purred, "Well, I can't make any promises."

Of course not.

As Stephanie sashayed out of her shop, prize in hand, Cassie sighed and resigned herself to hearing about that date afterwards — from both parties. She had the strong suspicion that it was going to be an agonizing round of 'point/counterpoint' and at that moment, she truly couldn't think of a single thing she was looking less forward to, particularly since she couldn't even warn Sam.

Sometimes being the town's resident 'Dear Abby' was a lot of fun.

And sometimes, she really wanted to shove the job over a cliff.

{{**}}

When Ryan caught her as she was heading home for the day and insisted she go with him without telling her where or why, Cassie was beyond annoyed. Her conversation with Stephanie had left her in a less-than-charitable mood for the rest of the day, to the point that all she wanted now was a cup of tea, some chocolate, and possibly a debate with Sam about the merits of using willow bark to help soothe a headache, using herself as the main study participant.

But Ryan was so excited that his boyish enthusiasm actually lifted her spirits, so she followed him without question. It took her a minute to grasp the reason for his glee at standing in front of an old but gorgeous home, but once she did, Cassie was genuinely thrilled for him. However, knowing what she did of Ryan's ambitions — and having some knowledge of the history of the house — she was concerned as well, because the Keating House was a piece of Middleton's history and not everyone would be on board with the developer's plans.

Still, getting this listing was a major step up for Ryan's career and one that he had worked long and hard to earn. She was incredibly proud of him and gave him a soft kiss of congratulations, feeling her heart warm when he told her that it had been important to him that she be there to share in his triumph.

But she also needed to express her apprehension about the town's likely reaction to his plans, and she did. Ryan brushing aside her worries because he was confident that the owner only wanted money was . . . was . . . you know, she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Part of her felt like she should be irritated, which she wasn't (maybe Stephanie had gotten her to her threshold for the day?), and she wasn't angry, which . . .

That was — good, she supposed.

But she wasn't surprised, either.

And that bothered her, because it was a habit of Ryan's that was becoming more and more difficult to ignore: he always wanted her opinion and especially her validation, but it seemed that he brushed aside anything she said that was negative or didn't fit with his view about how things were going to happen.

And then, when what she had warned about happened (which, unfortunately, it did more often than not by a lot), he would invariably do the right thing, apologize, and thank her for helping him be a better person.

And, yeah, she was honest enough to admit that it had been flattering to hear, those first few times.

Only . . . she was still hearing it three years later.

And she couldn't help but wonder when Ryan was going to become that better person of his own accord.

"But it's not just about money," she told him, knowing even as she spoke that it was probably futile. But the scene had been written, so it had to be played out.

"To him it is," Ryan replied, giving her a serious look.

"But not to you," Cassie answered, hoping that this time, something would stick and precipitate the change she needed and he always said he was making.

He didn't reply to that, instead giving her a look that abruptly registered the fact that she was freaking freezing. Like a goof, she'd left her gloves at the shop.

"You're freezing," he observed, staring at her hands as she chafed them for warmth.

"I forgot my gloves," she explained, and was grateful when he closed his own hands, cold but still warmer than hers, around her fingers and squeezed.

"I'm kinda glad you did," he told her, his smile gentle and his eyes full of so many things that ought to have warmed her heart.

It should have been a tender moment between the two of them, another step forward on their journey.

But it wasn't.

Because all Cassie wanted to do was shove her hands in her pockets and go back to the car.

And she did not for the life of her understand why Ryan's touch always made her so uneasy.

Especially when S—

Yeah, she definitely needed some hot tea and forget the chocolate; she needed honest-to-God fudge. And maybe a Jacuzzi.

But not Ryan.

She should . . . but she didn't.

And she was at an utter loss to understand why.

{{**}}

When Abigail asked if he would be interested in joining her for dinner that night because she wanted to talk, Sam was intrigued.

In retrospect, that should have been a Huge Freaking Clue.

Because Cassie intrigued him, too, and look at how that was turning out.

But he knew that Abigail wasn't interested in him romantically, and it would be nice to be able to go out with someone and just talk and eat, with none of the pressure of a date or the uncomfortable (and sometimes dangerous) intimacy of eating at one's home, romance or not. And even though she seemed a little . . . down, maybe . . . Sam chalked it up to a rough first day. They had, after all, been collectively slammed for nearly seven straight hours.

After agreeing to meet at The Bistro at 6:30, Sam settled in for his last hour of work, taking a moment to revel in the fact that, thanks to Abigail, he only needed an hour to get the office closed out for the day instead of the three it had normally been taking. He was still running about five minutes late, though, and that was before he got a house call. Thankfully, it was both close and easily dealt with, but by the time he got to the restaurant, Sam was almost 30 minutes late — and like a moron, he hadn't gotten her number or given her his, so there was no way to tell her the situation.

And it never occurred to him that having dinner with Abigail (or any woman) at The Bistro would cause so much drama — which should have been another Huge Freaking Clue (and was, actually, though it took him several days to really register the implications).

"Sam," Stephanie greeted him as he walked past the bar, and he paused, turning to face her.

"Hey!" he said in return, smiling at her. Despite his lingering reservations, he was looking forward to getting to know her better once they finally got to go on a date.

"Hi!" she chirped back, returning his smile . . . which vanished at Abigail's enthusiastic greeting.

Startled at her exuberance, Sam turned to look at his . . . new receptionist? Well, after the stellar job she'd done today, he damn sure hoped so.

Before he could say anything, Stephanie repeated his name in a dangerous tone that had Sam's hackles rising. He did not do well with possessive women, especially one he wasn't even dating.

But again, before he could so much as form a thought, Abigail redirected, telling him that she thought he'd stood her up.

Hang on.

Stood her up?

Why would sh—

Uh-oh.

"Umm . . ." he started, knowing he needed to stop this in its tracks immediately, if not yesterday.

Proving yet again that she and Cassie were related, Abigail effortlessly rolled over him.

"You were right," she told Stephanie, a . . . well, he wasn't quite sure what that smile was, but Sam knew full well that it wasn't good.

For him, anyway.

"Was I?" Stephanie asked in that same dangerous voice, although he could sympathize this time. It wasn't what she thought, but it did look that way.

But.

They weren't dating, and even if they had been, no woman had the right to tell Sam who he could and couldn't spend time with. He was of the firm opinion that if a woman had so little trust in him, they shouldn't be together. And vice versa.

And yes, he held to that philosophy even after Linda.

So he made a move to establish both his line in the sand and a way to show Stephanie that he was not on a date with Abigail; Middleton was, unfortunately, lacking in restaurant options and Sam had neither the desire nor the time to drive to Crestview or Blairsville just to eat dinner.

"Stephanie, this is Cassie's cousin," he introduced her, watching warily as the women shook hands. Abigail looked . . . pleased. Stephanie did not.

"Abigail," she repeated, her voice surprisingly neutral, given her obvious displeasure.

"She's helping me out at the office," he told her; an explanation was fair, especially if Abigail was going to stay in town for a while.

"I'll bet she is," Stephanie purred, looking daggers at Abigail, and Sam suddenly felt like he was at a tennis game.

As the ball, not a spectator.

Ah, hell. He really, really hoped this was just Stephanie having a bad night and not an indicator of who she truly was.

Because he was serious about not putting up with that crap.

Never again.

"I'll give you a minute to decide," she said directly to Sam, and that shocked him so much, he actually goggled at her.

Was she really giving him an ultimatum?

With an audience?

And without the courtesy of even letting him explain?

REALLY?!

"Your order," she said sardonically before walking away, and he took a deep breath.

Now wasn't the time or place to deal with her attitude, but they would definitely be having a conversation later.

Abigail simply gave him a smile that made his hindbrain twitch a little and he took another deep breath, looking away to disguise both his irritation and his embarrassment.

It would occur to him later (several weeks later, which was a shameful thing to admit) that he should have wondered then just how much of that Abigail had planned. It didn't, because he had made the fatal mistake of assigning Cassie's personality to her cousin. This was a situation that would last considerably longer than it should have, but . . . well, Sam refused to apologize for seeing the best in people (okay, fine, people he didn't dislike on sight. And it wasn't that he saw or thought the worst of Ryan Elliott; it was simply that he didn't think the other man was a good partner for Cassie. Really.).

"I got us a table," Abigail said brightly, thankfully interrupting his thoughts.

"Great," he responded, unable to muster any real enthusiasm. Stephanie's attitude had thrown him for a loop and dampened what had been a pretty good mood.

He did think it was a little strange that Abigail was so . . . dressed up . . . for a simple dinner between new acquaintances, but only a little. Linda had never worn less than full makeup and a business-casual outfit when she went to the grocery store, so Sam just blinked and moved to join her.

As he pulled out his chair, he got a whiff of a really nice scent and was unable to control his initial response.

"Wow. Is that you?" he asked, taking another breath. That perfume was almost intoxicating.

"Yes," she confirmed, hanging her coat on the chair. "You like it?"

"Yeah," he replied, abruptly realizing how odd that was. "And normally I'm allergic to perfume."

"Oh," she replied, glancing away for a second before sitting down.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he followed suit. "House call."

"Oh," she said again, sounding surprised. "So, there are still doctors that make house calls?"

He couldn't help but laugh, remembering his first one here (not to Stephanie, but the elderly Mrs. Williams, who had a hard time getting to his office due to a broken hip and needed a checkup, but her son wasn't available to drive her).

"I never thought I'd be one of them, but yes," he said, grinning. He really did enjoy his work here, and his personal life was starting to settle as well.

"It's very dedicated of you," Abigail observed, giving him an intense look that he couldn't quite decipher.

But there was no romantic interest; he was completely certain of that.

"Well . . ." he hedged, unsure of how best to respond.

Maybe a change in subject?

And because he was a man, instead of asking about her reasons for visiting or what she did in New York or literally anything else, Sam had to comment on her outfit.

You know, the one he didn't think was odd because Linda had set his standards?

Yeah.

"You seem dressed up."

Argh! Now she was going to think he was interested.

How did he get himself in these situations?! And how could he stop it?

God, he wished Cassie was here. She'd laugh herself sick at his predicament, but she'd also come to his rescue.

"You sound so surprised," Abigail responded, which only panicked him further.

"No!" he almost exclaimed. "It's just that when you asked me to come out and talk, you seemed . . ."

He trailed off because he remembered now that she had been — well, 'subdued' was the best word he could think of, and now he was seriously reconsidering 'rough first day' as the cause.

When she looked down, her shoulders hunching, his healing instincts came to alert, a feeling that was confirmed by her statement of dressing up when she was depressed.

Oh.

Now he felt like a heel.

He hadn't realized he'd become so suspicious; well, it was a good thing to know, because now he could watch for it.

"So you're depressed?" he asked, having learned from experience that a direct verbal confirmation was vital in telling him what stage she was in. Most people with severe depression would talk about it, at least the basics, because by then they felt they had little to lose. But people who were mildly depressed generally wouldn't admit to it, due to the massive (and unfair) stigma attached to the condition.

When she sidestepped his query, he felt a sharp stab of relief. He was a damn good doctor, but not a psychologist.

"That's why I needed to talk to someone," she continued, and his concern sharpened, as did his expression, even as he felt suspicion creeping back in.

Yes, he was the doctor, but . . . Cassie was her cousin.

And a woman.

"What about Cassie?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Uh, we don't see eye to eye on certain things" (understatement of the year) "but Cassie is one of the best listeners I've ever met."

He wasn't trying to foist Abigail off; he simply thought, at this stage, that her cousin was a better option for her than he himself was, given what little she'd told him.

"That's the problem," Abigail murmured. "Cassie's kind of perfect at everything. It can be intimidating sometimes."

She — yeah, okay, he could see that.

"I knew you'd understand," she added, laying her hand on the table, and Sam mentally frowned.

Okay, something was going on here. She wasn't after him as a boyfriend (and thank God for that!), but she sure as hell was looking for . . . for . . .

Something.

Or maybe, Radford, she just wanted someone neutral to talk to. He would readily concede that Cassie could be daunting to approach at times, and while Abigail did not strike him as 'shy', that didn't mean she felt comfortable broaching the subject with just anyone, family or not.

And he was a doctor.

With a mental sigh, Sam resolved to mention this to Cassie and get her take on it before setting his musings to the side and encouraging Abigail to talk to him. She was an interesting, engaging conversationalist (though it was a good thing he'd been sharpening his wit against Cassie's, because he would have been hard-pressed to keep up otherwise) and he found himself relaxing as the evening progressed.

And if he deliberately ignored Stephanie's little sighs and pointed looks, well . . . hell, yes.

This wasn't a date.

And if it was, so what? He and Stephanie weren't a couple and she had no right to be territorial because he was out with someone else. He understood perfectly well that she didn't like it (and to be honest, he'd probably feel the same if it were her), but that was no reason to behave so childishly.

So as they finished their meal, Sam decided to pay with cash, and gave Stephanie only a nod as he escorted Abigail to the door.

He was really hoping Cassie was home, because he needed to vent. And then he needed to commit a shocking breach of etiquette and get some information about Stephanie, because he kept seeing two different women and he desperately needed to know which one was real.

And if he had the passing thought that this would not be an issue with Cassie . . . well, it passed quickly.

He couldn't want her like that and she clearly had no interest in him, so it was a ridiculous thought to have.

It was also unfair to keep comparing Stephanie to Cassie, inadvertent though it was, particularly because Sam had to expend a great deal of effort to ignore who kept coming out ahead.

Even if he couldn't help but ask himself just whoit was unfair to.

{{**}}

Cassie hadn't seen Sam the night before because she'd gotten caught up at the shop and didn't get home until a ridiculously late hour (it had been so late that Sam had beaten her home), and she missed him. But she had not timed her visit to the mailbox to coincide with Sam leaving in the morning, thank you. She had just . . . been distracted and lost track of time.

It was amazing how time-consuming it could be, refusing to think about something.

The fact that she nee-wanted to talk to Sam was . . . fortuitous.

A nice coincidence, as it were.

So she made sure she was preoccupied with getting the mail as he tossed his stuff in the car.

"Hey, there," he called, giving her a slight smile, but with his face set in a serious expression.

Oh. Was he okay?

"Hey!" she greeted in return, giving him the floor, so to speak. She had quickly learned that Sam would gladly talk to her, but he rarely liked to be pushed into it, and her wait was short.

"So I will admit to being completely in the dark," he began, walking purposefully to her. "But is something wrong with our kids?"

Oh.

She had not expected that and the reminder of her new troubles with Grace hit Cassie unexpectedly hard, leaving her unable to control her expression.

"Seems to be more than the normal amount of animosity between them," he observed, but continued before she could answer — which was good, because she couldn't have said anything just then. "I never know what's happening with Nick until the principal calls," he added, sounding resigned and a little frustrated.

Cassie could sympathize, even though that was not an issue she had ever had with Grace. But she'd seen Nick's attitude and behavior around his dad and even though the former had improved (slightly, or so Sam claimed) since the ball, he was far from a cooperative, settled, well-adjusted teenager.

In other words, fun for nobody.

Like Grace was now.

Her expression twisted again at the reminder and Sam paused, his eyes darkening with concern as he looked her over.

"You okay?" he asked, ready to slay any dragon she pointed at.

God, she wished he could slay this one.

"Yeah," she said on a sigh. "Growing pains."

"Oh," he said with understanding. "Grace?"

"Yeah, for both of us, I think," she replied, deflecting a little because she wasn't quite yet ready to admit that she might need some outside help with her daughter.

After nodding thoughtfully, he told her, "Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think Grace's growing pains mean that you'll be hearing from the principal anytime soon."

There was a surprising lack of bitterness in his voice and Cassie mentally raised her eyebrows; it looked like Sam had settled better than she'd realized into the new situation he was trying to create with his son, and she was extremely happy to see it.

His words also pulled a small, rueful smile to her lips, because he was absolutely correct.

"Teenagers," he added with the universal exhaustion that parents of adolescents the world over suffer.

"Yeah," she agreed somewhat against her will, because Grace hadn't been giving her any problems.

Until Abigail arrived.

But maybe that was unfair. Grace was fourteen, after all. Perhaps she was just a late bloomer.

Besides . . .

"I knew this day was coming," she confessed, because she had. She just hadn't known it would be so . . . so . . .

Exactly.

"But now that's it here . . ."

She trailed off because she really didn't know how to finish that thought.

Sam nodded again, then gave her a look she couldn't decipher before coming to a decision.

"You know," he began, shifting a little until he was looking directly at her. "When I got out of med school, I had to take my boards. An 8-hour test with over 300 questions, and the score on this test determines which residency program you're matched with."

Okay?

He paused for a second and looked to the side, clearly reminiscing. "I never thought anything could be that difficult," he said contemplatively. "And then Nick turned thirteen."

He met her gaze as he said it, his eyes full of rueful amusement at his own naiveté, and Cassie couldn't help but chuckle softly in response.

And relief.

Sam understood, and would be there for support when she needed him.

It.

Needed it.

And she wouldn't have to explain things to him.

A fatigue she hadn't even realized had been weighing on her so heavily fell away, replaced by a deep wash of gratitude when he told her, "Grace is a good kid," with such complete and absolute sincerity that her breath actually caught in her throat.

Wow.

She hadn't had a clue until this moment just much his good opinion of her — of her parenting skills — mattered. Oh, he deserved a 'thank you' for that.

And a return sentiment, because it was the truth.

"Yeah. So is Nick," she said simply, hoping that he would be able to accept her words.

Unfortunately, no . . . well, maybe. Kinda.

He arched his eyebrows as he gently refuted her. "Well, he has his moments. God willing, I can string enough of them together to get him out of high school and into a college."

That was a — no, she could see where he was coming from. And he wasn't angry anymore, which was huge progress, because that meant he had more patience for the journey, something that would help everyone in both the short- and long-term.

And she felt so much better now for having shared her burden with him.

"Hey, thanks," she murmured to him, meaning it with every fiber of her being and wishing she could hug him.

But no. He was safe now, but that would just . . . be asking for trouble.

(she refused to think about why Ryan was the only one who would care or be upset)

"Anytime," he vowed, eyes blazing with sincerity.

She was shaken by the depth of his feelings, yet she wasn't uncomfortable. But she felt like she should be and — oh, this was so confusing! Sam was safe, but she . . . didn't think she was. And knowing that he was there, to support her and help her, made her feel secure and l-cared for in a way she hadn't experienced since Jake.

But they were friends. Good friends, quickly becoming best friends.

But just friends.

And anyway, she didn't have time to dwell on those (dangerous) thoughts, so she simply smiled in acknowledgement of his support and started back to Grey House, only to pause and turn to him when he unexpectedly started a new conversation.

"Hey, uh, Abigail's great, by the way," he said, apropos of nothing.

"Yeah, she's working for you at your office," Cassie replied, having heard All About Thatfrom Stephanie, as well as about The Date. Loudly. At great length. By the end, she was truly afraid PowerPoint was going to be involved.

And something in her tone or words confused Sam, because when he said, "She said it was your idea," it was nearly a question.

Of course she had.

Cassie expected this warning to be just as effective as the one she'd given Stephanie about Sam (and the perfume, and Sam, and chasing too hard, and Sam), but Abigail was family and Sam was clearly allowing that knowledge to color his interactions with her.

"Abigail can be a handful," she told him, deciding to start cautiously.

He gave that a few seconds' thought before shrugging it off and stating that he could handle her.

Of course he could.

Well, never let it be said that Cassie Nightingale gave up too soon.

"Just make sure she's not handling you," she stated, knowing it was useless but still compelled to try.

He laughed in genuine appreciation and an answering smile came to her lips as they both headed to their respective destinations.

Oh, she'd needed that. Her head was so much clearer now, and just knowing that she had a safe haven to visit if (or when) dealing with this new Grace got to be too much was . . . well, she was no longer concerned about the state of her sanity.

And if she decided to bake Sam a batch of his favorite chocolate oatmeal cookies, well . . .

Man could not live on The Bistro alone.

He deserved to know how special he was, and how much she valued his friendship and support.

And if she got a little thrill out of watching him devour her cookies like he hadn't eaten in a month, it . . .

It was part of the fun.

And there was nothing wrong with that.

Nothing.

{{**}}

Well, damn.

That had not at all gone the way he had planned.

Or expected, actually.

And Grace? Causing trouble for her mom? Really?

Had he fallen through a wormhole and swapped universes?

And if he had, was Nick suddenly going to become a polite, respectful teenager?

Good God, he hoped not.

Well, he did, but not at Cassie's expense.

Okay, wait, that made no sense. Or rather, it did, but not good sense. Or, no, it was bad sense. No, it was — oh, ow. His brain hurt. Sam hadn't realized until now just how discombobulated things at The Bistro had left him.

And like hell he was going to bother Cassie now, not after she'd cheered up so much and gotten the reassurance she desperately needed that she was a freaking amazing mom.

Also, he had to get to work.

Well, at least he had made someone's day a little better.

Hopefully, karma would take that into consideration for his plans tonight.

Hmm. Given karma's actions so far, it might be prudent to have a goat on standby, just in case a sacrifice became necessary.

{{**}}

He decided to grab coffee at The Bistro and get that conversation out of the way. Stephanie's pointed — and still childish — attitude of 'professional' grated on his nerves, but he found himself oddly amused as well. He had become jaded by Linda's abrasive personality and her habit of taking offense at every little thing and was self-aware enough to acknowledge it. And again, he completely understood that she had not liked seeing him having dinner with another woman.

But the bratty, juvenile behavior had to stop. Between Nick and Grace, he was already dealing with one and half teenagers; he didn't need another one, thank you.

And of course, instead of talking to him like an adult, telling him that she was uncomfortable with him going out with another woman (which he would have respected and at least given strong consideration to), she had to 'punish' him and make sure he understood that he was in the doghouse.

Cassie wouldn't play this game, b—

Oh, look, he'd done it again.

And it was great that Cassie would be an adult, only he wasn't going on a date with her. He was taking Stephanie out. And as much as it pained him to admit it, her behavior was not unusual. But maybe if he treated herlike a grown woman, she'd see that it was okay to act like one. And then he saw the hurt she was trying so hard to conceal and felt a little guilty. It hadn't been a date, he and Abigail, but from Stephanie's point of view, it had looked like one. And no, they weren't a couple, but he suddenly remembered how he'd felt at seeing Cassie with Ryan and had a lot more sympathy for the blonde.

Okay, maybe he'd been a bit of a jerk, eating at The Bistro. If nothing else, he could have sent Stephanie a text to let her know.

It was still no excuse for her behavior, but . . . yeah, okay, he'd kind of asked for it. It was time to man up and acknowledge her point, and he did.

And he needed to soothe her feelings, because he had hurt her, unintentional though it had been.

"Are we still on for tonight?" he asked, genuinely hoping the answer was 'yes'. He really did want to get to know her better, not to mention show her that he wasn't the jerk he had inadvertently portrayed himself as last night — something that hit him in glorious technicolor when, after pretending to think about it, she suggested the new French place in town, which he had known about, dammit; it just hadn't occurred to him. And though he was happy with her answer, he also couldn't help the stab of relief when she told him she'd meet him there; to him, there had always been something vaguely . . . unsettling . . . about being trapped in a car with a person on the way to a first date, at least a person you didn't know.

But the coyness in her 'think about it' moment amused and annoyed him in equal turn. Her pointed remark about 'just wanting to talk' being the oldest trick in the book had visibly given him pause, and her backtracking had not been remotely subtle. Which was concerning for several reasons.

On the other hand: Linda.

God, he hated being able to see both sides of an argument. It made arguing so much less productive (and a lot less fun).

But he wouldn't hold last night against her, because from her perspective (and his own, in retrospect), he'd been a jackass. That said, he wasn't going to be so sanguine should that attitude persist. If he going to break the vow he'd made never to date again (or fall in love, or, God forbid, get married), then it was going to be with a grown woman.

And if she didn't or couldn't give him that?

Well, it wouldn't be the end of the world. He'd been single for a long time before coming to Middleton and it hadn't killed him.

So . . . he wouldn't talk to Cassie about Stephanie just yet. No, they'd go out tonight and he'd just see what happened.

He was increasingly coming to realize that this philosophy was a good way to experience life, at least in part.

Not that he would tell Cassie, of course. If she knew that her way of thinking was blending itself with his, he would never hear the end of it.

Which . . . if it happened, that wouldn't be the end of the world either.

Huh.

Wasn't that interesting?

{{**}}

She was going to strangle Abigail.

She was.

Cassie sighed heavily after Grace and Abigail had both left, stewing in irritation at Grace — well, no, not Grace so much as Abigail's heavy-handed encouragement of her teenage rebellion. Because on her own, Grace could be talked back down to her natural, reasonable self.

But Abigail . . . she hated to admit it, but Lori was right: Abigail could be very charismatic when she chose, and for reasons that Cassie still wasn't able to grasp, she was choosing to do so now.

And her little soliloquy about 'just trying to help' . . .

Yeah, no.

Or worse: yes. Only, Abigail's version of 'help' seemed to consist of 'encourage as much trouble as possible and take credit if it goes well'.

Which was infuriating for a whole host of reasons, none of which Cassie could do a single thing about, because other than Grace, her cousin hadn't actually done anything. Set things in motion, sure (although why she had targeted Sam and Stephanie was a mystery that Cassie wasn't looking into all that closely just yet).

God, she wished she was someone who thought shattering dishware was a good way to relieve stress.

And she couldn't talk to Sam because . . . well, what would she say? 'Hey, Sam, my cousin is encouraging my 14-year old daughter to grow up too fast. How? Well, by buying her clothes that I don't approve of. What else? Well, nothing.'

Ugh.

Even in her head it sounded ridiculous and without the context gained from actually being there for the entire conversation, it — well, 'ridiculous' was a good word.

And even if he had been there, Cassie wasn't sure Sam would really understand the issue. He had his own troubles with his son, but Nick trying to grow up too fast wasn't one of them.

No, she would just have to weather this alone.

. . . or not.

Sam wouldn't mind at all just keeping her company while they drank tea and ate cookies at her kitchen island.

Yeah, that would be lovely. She'd catch him at his office an—

No, she wouldn't.

He was taking Stephanie to dinner tonight.

Fantastic. She was now stuck with a rebellious daughter, a trouble-inducing cousin, and no sounding board because he was taking her other headache on a date. Which meant she was going to hear about it later tonight (or tomorrow, if they stayed out late enough and that was not a thought she needed).

Well, she was just in for an unpleasant day all around, wasn't she?

And that thought . . . made her pause.

Cassie Nightingale prided herself on her ability to find the silver lining and see the good in every situation. The people of Middleton had come to rely on it, both as a town and as individuals, she was so good at it. But at this moment, Cassie could not find a single thing about what she knew was coming that held any positive connotations — what was good for Person A wasn't going to be for Person B, etc. and so forth, and she was going to be caught squarely in the middle of it, unable to tell anyone what she actually thought — and that, more than anything else, sent her mood plummeting harder and farther than it had gone in years.

And for the second time since they had met, with dread coiling in her stomach, Cassie realized that she wasn't anticipating talking with Sam later, because . . . well, he was going to be part of the problem. He would be horrified if he knew this, and would likely become a hermit if it would spare her (and oh, that thought was entirely too tempting), but . . .

Yeah. 'But.'

Cassie suddenly found herself with the near-overwhelming urge to find (or create) a magical remote and skip ahead a day (or three, just to be safe), because for once, she really didn't want to experience this journey.

To make things worse, for this part of it, she would be alone, because Sam . . . well, she wasn't going to do that to him.

And that made Cassie realize that she had forgotten how to be alone, because Sa—

Yes, she was indeed in for an unpleasant day.

How nice that she had something to look forward to.

{{**}}

When Stephanie sauntered into his office late that morning, bringing muffins and an attitude that, again, both amused and annoyed him, Sam could only mentally shake his head.

She knew what she wanted and wasn't shy about getting it, he'd give her that. And she'd paid enough attention to know that cranberry was his favorite breakfast fruit.

And then Abigail announced her allergy to cranberries, and thus her intention of sharing the aforementioned muffins, and Sam was terrified for a few seconds that a female wrestling match was about to break out in his waiting room.

Being a smart man, he did the prudent thing and got the hell out of dodge.

Of course, karma having taken such interest in him, he realized just before he walked into the exam room that he'd grabbed the wrong file.

Crap.

He really didn't want to go back out there. But he had no choice.

Maybe he should start memorizing patient files?

Taking a deep breath, he headed back up front, bracing himself for—

Well, something unpleasant.

"So, are we still on for tonight?" Stephanie asked in a falsely-curious tone the second he cleared the entrance, before promptly informing Abigail that she and Sam had a date.

Ah.

Territory was being claimed and staked.

And yet again, he was both amused and ticked off.

He really, really didn't like possessive women, but it was nice to have someone fight so fiercely for him.

So he'd allow it for now, but they were going to have to talk about this tonight, because he refused to put up with this nonsense. From any woman.

Also, he needed Stephanie to leave so that he could actually get back to work, so he told her with complete sincerity that he was looking forward to it.

And then he got the hell out of dodge again.

Once he was safe, at least for the moment, he paused and took a minute to wonder what, exactly, he'd done to piss karma off so badly . . . other than moving himself and Nick to Middleton with no warning or even a real explanation, that is.

And he'd apologized for that, sincerely and earnestly, because it — he — had been wrong. It had been necessary if he was to have any chance of saving Nick — or himself, honesty compelled him to admit — but he had gone about things in a spectacularly bad fashion. Still, he was both aware of this and actively trying to make amends.

Which led back to his question: just what in the hell had he done now that had so enraged karma?

And how could he make it happy again?

(and why was he mentally seeing Cassie smirk at his discomfiture?)

{{**}}

When Ryan came to the shop later that day — after Martha's visit/sales pitch — Cassie was absurdly glad to see him, if only because his issues would distract her from her own.

And even though they had the same conversation about 'right vs easy' and 'choice vs no choice' that they had every single time Ryan tried to branch out from his established comfort zone, she was still grateful for it, because this was an argument she could win. And she really, really needed that right now.

Of course, watching and listening to him trying to justify a poor decision was getting old, but Cassie had finally realized that this was simply who Ryan was. He was unable to see, of his own accord, the bad side of something he wanted, and like most people on the planet, he hated admitting he was wrong. Cassie just . . . had to accept the fact that she would spend the rest of their lives acting as his conscience.

Oh, ow, headache.

The pain jolted her into actually speaking out loud, instead of the loud looks she'd been giving him for the past few minutes.

And again, Ryan had no response to her logic.

So he avoided it altogether by asking if she wanted to have dinner that night. She was so eager to escape both her own thoughts and the house that contained her moody child that she agreed immediately, which made Ryan light up like a Christmas tree.

And Cassie found herself looking forward to a date with Ryan for the first time since . . . wow. Since they'd started dating.

Well, that was a good sign.

Right?

{{**}}

When Sam strolled into her shop later that afternoon, Cassie mentally threw her hands in the air and Just Gave Up.

She'd wanted to talk to him all day, but now that he was here, it was because he was having issues of his own.

Okay, that wasn't fair. There was no way for him to know about Abigail.

Or Ryan.

And to be honest, that wasn't a conversation she wanted to have in public.

So when he told her about Abigail taking it upon herself to organize his work life, she just smiled knowingly.

She had warned him, after all.

"You know, I think Abigail can take care of herself," she assured him, understanding his dilemma about accepting her help for — well, for what he thought was free.

His next words confirmed both her assessment of his character and her cousin's ability to read people — and use that knowledge to play them.

"Well, she puts on this incredibly confident front," he began, pointedly not looking at her. "But underneath, I think she's incredibly insecure."

Oh. Well. She hadn't seen that coming.

Umm, no. She couldn't let that stand. Sam was too important to her to allow Abigail to twist him up in that kind of knot, and as a doctor — a healer — he would always believe that kind of story because he couldn't afford not to.

"Abigail is brilliant at figuring out what people want," she advised him, watching carefully to see if her words were having the right impact, "but not necessarily what they need."

He frowned at that, meeting her eyes.

"She thinks you don't approve of her," he replied gravely.

Oh, so that was her game.

Well, it was a good way to garner sympathy from a man like Sam Radford.

So Cassie would need to tread carefully here; Sam knew and trusted her, but Abigail . . .

Ah. This could go bad very quickly.

But between Grace, Abigail, and Ryan, her patience was running thin, and now Abigail was back for an encore.

Yeah. Maybe blunt would be better for Sam.

"No," she replied firmly. "She wants you to think I don't approve of her — two very different things."

He laughed a little and turned to walk with her to the counter.

"Look, I know what it's like to feel you don't measure up to your family's expectations."

Okay. That was random.

"Really?" she asked, genuinely curious; he hadn't shared much about his childhood yet.

"Well, my father was tough," he said on a sigh. "If I got an 'A', it was expected. It was not congratulated."

Still random.

"Hmm," she replied, for lack of anything else. Thankfully, he took this as encouragement to continue.

"And if I got anything less than an 'A', well, he'd let me know it was unacceptable."

And this had what to do with Abigail?

Oh, of course!

He had doubtless gotten some version of 'Cassie intimidates me because she's good at everything and I'm not' and, being the decent, honorable man that he was, Sam had decided to approach Cassie first and give her a head's up.

He really was adorable.

Hopelessly naïve at times, but utterly sweet.

Still, this needed to be stopped now, if she could.

And she told him that.

"Well, if Abigail has a problem with me, she should come to me," she stated firmly, willing him to accept that.

An incredulous look greeted this statement before he said, in a disbelieving voice, "You have to know that you're a little intimidating."

She was what?

When she said nothing (what could she say?!) and instead turned her attention to blending a new batch of soothing oil for lack of anything else to do, he chuckled softly and glanced down before adding, "I think maybe she was just more comfortable talking to somebody . . ."

He trailed off when she raised her head and met his eyes.

Somebody?

". . . not so perfect," he finished, giving her a wry look.

"I'm not perfect!" Cassie objected, caught off-guard.

He simply shrugged and said, "To her you are."

Oh, really?

"Did she tell you that?" Cassie demanded, now upset. She did not need this.

He shrugged again, a little sheepishly this time, and replied, "She didn't mean anything by it."

And you know the worst part of this whole kerfuffle? Sam was completely, totally sincere.

He had no idea of how well and thoroughly he was being manipulated.

And she couldn't tell him, because he would never believe her. And it wasn't personal; Abigail just . . . well, she had a gift.

Or a curse, depending on your perspective.

Still . . .

"Abigail always means 'something'," she told him, holding his eyes.

But she said nothing else and, other than a searching look, neither did he.

And after a minute, he wished her a good day and headed back to work.

Cassie sighed as he left, massaging her aching, throbbing temples and considering yet again the benefits of changing her name to Helga and moving to Iceland.

She actually didn't know what to do about any of this, which was frustrating and frightening, but the person she should have been able to talk to was part of the problem. Through no fault of his own, of course, but that didn't change anything.

For the first time since Sam Radford had moved to Middleton, Cassie Nightingale felt completely and utterly alone.

{{**}}

When Grace enacted her plan — whatever it was, it was something that her mother hadn't quite figured out — later that afternoon, Cassie took a moment to be thankful that her daughter was a truly awful liar. This knowledge didn't ease her fears later, but knowing that something was going to happen was, in its own way, a Godsend. At least she had a little forewarning.

Still hoping that Grace could be brought back to her normal, responsible, reasonable self, Cassie listened to the lie before sighing and offering a sincere apology for not allowing Grace to see an R-rated movie she was two years too young for (and how was Cassie the unreasonable one in this situation?!). She wasn't going to change her mind about that but maybe . . .

"Oh, I get it," Grace said, something that should have reassured her mother, but instead only served to increase her apprehension. "I don't like it," she added in typical 'honest Grace' fashion. "But I get it."

Oh, Cassie very much did not want to let Grace go through with whatever she was planning.

But she would, because experience really was the only way to learn. And, by allowing it now, Cassie was able to maintain at least some control over the situation.

Not a lot, but . . . well, it would have to be enough, at least for now.

"And aren't you going to dinner with Ryan?" Grace asked, bringing Cassie back to the present with a sharp yank.

Oh . . . she was, wasn't she? She'd nearly forgotten.

"Yeah," she agreed, before suddenly having A Thought, one that quickly turned into An Idea.

Why not watch a movie together tonight, when they both got home? That would give Grace some incentive to — well, not go through with whatever it was she was planning to do, and it would give Cassie a legitimate excuse to keep her dinner with Ryan short.

It was, if she did say so herself, the Perfect Plan.

But she sounded a little too eager when she posed her thought to Grace and all she got was a nervous laugh and a solid rejection.

Well, so much for that.

All she could do now was hope that Grace's own natural intelligence and common sense would keep her safe tonight.

And there was always the chance that Cassie was wrong, and her daughter really was planning to study with Anthony at The Bistro.

Please, God, let that be the case.

Please.

As Grace made her final move to set up the reason why Cassie wouldn't see her until tomorrow morning, she was struck by a sudden desire to make this a little more difficult for Grace to follow through with.

"I could give you a ride," she said without turning, allowing her senses to flare out and immediately picking up on panic.

Oh, this really did not bode well.

But what could she do? She couldn't stop Grace from going out, because she hadn't actually done anything wrong. And if she was telling the truth about meeting Anthony, then stopping her for no reason other than 'I thought you were lying' would only damage their relationship and teach Grace that if her mother was going to distrust her for no real reason, she might as well give her one.

And Cassie refused to allow that to happen.

Besides, Sam had said it: her daughter was a good kid. Surely whatever she was planning to do couldn't be that bad.

God, she wished she could share this with Sam, who had plenty of experience in dealing with a child who lied and snuck out.

Oh, that sounded so harsh, but unfortunately, it was true. And he would understand, and maybe even have some advice to give, or a solid course of action to take other than 'let it happen and hope for the best'.

But he was out tonight.

With Stephanie.

Cassie was abruptly jarred out of her thoughts when, behind the panic, she sensed a modicum of longing, like maybe Grace didn't really want to go through with this. But a second later, the feeling dissolved into determination, and she mentally sighed.

"I wouldn't want you to get lost," she said with more than a little irony, turning to face her daughter.

Who gave her a weak, fake laugh and said, "To The Bistro?", knowing it would force Cassie to make a choice.

Believe or not believe.

Or rather, allow or deny.

Okay, then.

Cassie said nothing, which Grace took as the acceptance it was, and stepped forward to give her mother a quick hug and a soft, "I think I'll be okay," before hurrying out of the house.

Hopefully.

But Cassie strongly suspected that it would depend entirely on one's definition of 'okay.'

So all she could do now was wait.

And hope.

{{**}}

When Abigail took a truly magnificent header over his filing cabinet just after he left his last patient, it never occurred to Sam to curse karma.

Or wonder at the timing.

He would later wonder what was wrong with him, that he didn't see any of Abigail's not-at-all-subtle attempts to keep him and Stephanie from connecting romantically, particularly since Linda had used many of the same tactics.

But at the time, all he saw was a vulnerable young woman, uneasy and unhappy about being in a new place, and now physically hurting on top of that.

Her attempts to wave him on to his date made him shake his head in bemusement (Cassie would have done the same thing), though he did stop long enough to call Stephanie and leave her a voicemail explaining the situation and assuring her that he would meet her as soon as possible. Then, having discharged that duty, he put her out of his mind and focused completely on his patient. The bone wasn't broken, thank heavens, but it was going to take some time to figure out the extent of the injury.

And that was irritating, because he had been looking forward to tonight all day, and now it was delayed for how knew how long. And, on top of that, Stephanie was going to be upset — and understandably so, especially considering it was their first date. On the other hand, Sam was a doctor and things like this were going to happen. Hell, the only reason he hadn't been called to the ER during his wedding reception was because his phone had been turned off (and was also in his suitcase).

Well, at least it was happening early, so she would have a better idea of what life with him could be like.

And this time, he'd remembered to let her know what was going on, so she couldn't be mad about that.

Oh, he should let Cassie know, too; Abigail was her cousin, after all.

But a text hit his phone while he was typing out the message and its contents curdled his stomach.

Good luck tonight! I'll be out with Ryan, so we'll talk tomorrow. Have fun!

Well, that had just killed his appetite; hopefully it would find its way back after Abigail was settled and as okay as she could be right now.

Why Cassie going on a date with her boyfriend had nearly ruined his night was a question he had no intention of answering.

It just did.

{{**}}

Lori caught Cassie as she was heading out the door to join Ryan — who had just pulled up — asking where Grace had gone.

Caught off-guard by the question, Cassie had to fight to act natural.

"Oh, she's studying over at The Bistro with Anthony," she replied, hoping once again that it was true.

Lori made a face before dryly observing that Grace really knew how to enjoy a Friday night.

Oh, for that to be true!

But she needed to tell Lori something; the young woman was entirely too astute (and knew her stepmother too well) to be foisted off with a non-answer.

"Yeah," Cassie explained, using the same reasoning Grace had more-or-less given her. "She's still upset about that movie."

Lori was unsurprised at this and her offer to pick Grace up was a sanity-saver.

"Would you?" Cassie asked, pathetically grateful for the support. "Um, maybe get her around ten? That should give them plenty of time."

And show Grace plenty of trust.

"Yeah," Lori confirmed. "No problem."

With that worry taken off her mind, Cassie nearly went limp with relief.

"Okay," she said, and then had to smile when Lori said she would treat the kids to pie and ice cream . . . only to fight back tears when that teasing suggestion turned into a sincere offer to actually talk seriously with Grace, sister to sister.

But she found herself utterly unable to articulate any of her feelings, so she simply said, "My treat," and smiled again at Lori's instant understanding.

She really did have the best kids in the world.

And as she headed out to meet Ryan, she wished she could give Sam that feeling.

God knew he deserved it.

{{**}}

For the first time in quite a while, Ryan surprised Cassie.

And it was in a good way.

Their dinner dates up to this point had primarily consisted of going to The Bistro (or the new Thai place that one time; neither of them had been impressed), so when Ryan pulled up to Le Bistrot du Broc, she was genuinely surprised.

And very pleased.

She adored French food but rarely got to indulge that love and the fact that Ryan both knew this about her and had gone to the effort of giving her the experience was heartwarming.

A little startling, to be sure; she hadn't realized he had paid that much attention to such a minor thing.

This boded well and raised Cassie's hopes for a fun, enjoyable date.

Naturally, the first thing they did (literally) was run into Stephanie, who was clearly alone and leaving.

On realizing these two facts, Cassie's first thought was concern: was Sam okay?

"Hey, Stephanie," she greeted her friend, mostly managing to keep her voice free from worry.

"Hey," the other woman replied, sounding . . . Very Not Happy. And, given her status of 'alone' and 'leaving the restaurant', Cassie put two and two together and got 'Sam didn't show'.

But there was no way on earth Sam Radford had stood her up, so it had to be a medical emergency of some kind, which meant it was possible — likely, even — that he'd forgotten to let Stephanie know what was happening.

However, Cassie wasn't going to say that; Stephanie was upset and rightly so, medical emergency or not. It was an understandable reason, to be sure, but Sam had still broken their first date (and her earlier musings had been correct: she was not going to enjoy hearing the recap of this evening At All. Fantastic. Something to look forward to.).

On the other hand, it was possible that Sam was there and Stephanie had realized that they weren't going to get together romantically after all. That possibility was remote, but still.

Best to ask, then.

"How was your dinner?" she inquired, genuinely curious (about a lot of things, but she really did want to know about the quality of the meals).

"I highly recommend the wine. And the breadsticks," Stephanie replied, displeasure ringing in every syllable.

"Where's Sam?" Cassie asked, still concerned about him.

"Out. With Abigail. Again," she hissed before stalking out the door.

Abigail?

Oh, damn. Medical emergency it was, then — from Sam's point of view. And he'd clearly let Stephanie know what was going on, though the details were probably thin. And, knowing Stephanie, all she heard was 'Abigail'.

Abigail.

For Cassie, it was blatantly obvious that this was yet another attempt to keep Sam and Stephanie apart (though for the life of her, she could NOT understand whyAbigail was so dead-set against the two of them dating).

Cassie felt a slightly-unwelcome stab of sympathy for Stephanie; she and Sam were unlikely to make a good couple (or last long, assuming they did, in fact, go there), but she didn't want her to get hurt, either.

And though he hadn't meant to, Sam had hurt Stephanie a lot tonight. She couldn't and didn't hold it against him, but in this instance (backed by her understanding of Abigail), she was slightly more on Stephanie's side.

Slightly.

Because she had lost count of the number of times Jake had been forced to miss something or leave early because of a call or emergency. And it was frustrating, because you couldn't hold an emergency against someone even when it ruined your third date (or seventh, or your first engagement party) in a row.

And she gave Ryan credit when he looked at her after Stephanie left and summed the situation up with a very succinct, "Yikes."

Cassie was in full agreement with that.

{{**}}

Her warm feelings about Ryan lasted until they were halfway through their entrees (which were amazing; she was totally coming back here), when the conversation turned again to their status as a couple.

"Why is this so hard?" Ryan asked a little plaintively.

For once, she fully agreed with the sentiment.

"I don't know," she sighed, fighting down a feeling of despondency that should not be happening. Not after more than four months of being a couple.

"But it is, right?" he asked, sounding . . . something she couldn't even begin to identify.

"But it shouldn't be," she objected, knowing it to be true. Her reservations about publically letting it be known that they were dating aside, them going on an actual date shouldn't be so . . . fraught . . . after nearly half a year.

"No," they both agreed, and then there was the awkward silence that invariably occurs when people agree that something is wrong but don't have a clue about how to fix it.

After a minute, Ryan changed the subject.

To the Keating House.

Cassie would rather have kept talking about their relationship.

Because here was the thing: if Ryan's plans actually went through, everyone in Middleton (and she was afraid that would turn out to be literal) was going to come and complain to Cassie.

Not Ryan.

Not Martha (which baffled Cassie, because, you know, Martha was the mayor and therefore the one who would ultimately approve the deal).

But she had established herself as the town's unofficial counselor (which, in hindsight, might not have been the best idea) and . . .

Oh, headache.

"And I wish that you were happy for me."

Well, she wished that he was able to see things from any perspective other than the one he wanted, but we don't always get what we want.

Still, he was her boyfriend. She had to try.

"If I thought it would make you happy . . . " she began, trying to think of the best to phrase things so that what she was saying might get through for a change — and talking about unhappy town residents was not going to cut it. So she tried appealing to his sense of self (okay, fine; she was soothing his ego). "You're trying to be someone you're not and that never works."

Which had the benefit of being true. She was living proof of that.

That was the polar opposite of what Ryan wanted to hear and in typical fashion, he ignored what she actually said in favor of her implied meaning.

"I hate that you don't approve," he told her. "And I really hate that I need your approval."

So did she.

And she had been trying for years to get him to stop needing her validation for things.

Maybe this time, it would stick.

But she couldn't say that, see, because he would take it as either an insult or an attack, dig in his heels, and do something stupid just because he could.

Which meant this had to be approached from another angle.

So she had to make this about Ryan so that he wouldn't feel guilty for doing the same.

(she suddenly, desperately, wanted to be arguing with Sam; he didn't mince words when he was passionate about something and he didn't want that from her — and vice versa. If she insulted (well, not 'insulted'; tweaked, maybe, or — well, yeah, actually, insulted) his ego, he shrugged it off and came back with a sharp volley of his own, and she did the same. It was one of things that made debating with him so much fun.)

"No," she began firmly. "It's not my approval."

"Yeah, it is," he shot back, leaning forward in emphasis.

"No, you don't approve of what you're doing and you want someone to tell you it's okay when you know it's not."

And why, WHY, had she gone there?

Well, because she was annoyed and frustrated with both him and this never-ending dance about being his personal Jiminy Cricket, worried about Grace, and concerned for Sam and Stephanie.

Even for Cassie, that was stretching her pretty thin.

"You're wrong," he said flatly, completely shutting her down.

And she — suddenly, Cassie didn't want to give in and let it be. He had finally pushed her just that little bit too far.

"You want me to be," she shot back confidently (and admittedly a little snottily), "but that's not the same thing."

As always, he utterly ignored the truth of her words and asked if she would do him the favor of not continuing to decimate his argument and his ego.

By asking if they could share dessert, as though they weren't arguing literally as they spoke.

And Cassie, who found herself unexpectedly exhausted (Pyrrhic victories were brutal), gave in.

"One chocolate torte, two forks?" she confirmed. She didn't want to share with him, but that was a tantrum she was in no mood to indulge.

He chuckled at her words and made the wry (albeit slightly sullen) observation that they'd finally found something to agree on.

She couldn't help but laugh with him, though she hid her own lingering bitterness; fighting with him was draining and this one had been ongoing for days now.

And now she had to share her chocolate.

This just wasn't fair.

Then, naturally, Ryan got a phone call that he just couldn't ignore, though he did at least have the manners to leave the table to answer it.

Conveniently, it also allowed him to avoid her obvious displeasure at this turn of events.

But before she could really start to wallow in it, she sensed Sam come in and glanced up, watching with a mixed jumble of emotions as he was confronted with not only Stephanie's (probably bitchy) note, but the hostess judging him and what looked like a snotty comment from Ryan as well. That set her firmly on the side of sympathy for Sam, which deepened when he approached her table, looking remarkably liked a kicked puppy. For some reason, that made her want to tease him out of his justified unhappiness and she made a laughing remark about feeling the angry handwriting. To her delight, it worked, at least a little, and he rallied enough to give her a small smile. She was unable to keep from making the point about how upset his date had been, though, because he needed to know that in this situation, she was Switzerland. She was unable to stay completely neutral when he confirmed Abigail's part in this little drama, though; for such an intelligent man, he was being remarkably obtuse about her cousin (although his assurance that he had said cousin 'handled' would have amused her under other circumstances).

But he accepted her neutrality about Stephanie with good grace, which again raised her opinion of him; Ryan would not have been so understanding.

Wait, no, she didn't mean it like that. Well, she did, b—

Then Sam apologized for interrupting her date and it was like a glass of ice water dumped down her shirt.

She only just stopped herself from denying it was a date and instead told him about Ryan's phone call, which had beaten him to the interrupting.

And she loved and hated in equal measure the understanding that lit his eyes.

Why that made her decide to ask him to join her and Ryan for dessert was a question she ignored.

She also chose to overlook the awkwardness Ryan so obviously felt at having no choice but to accede to her wishes; him having to both get another chair and ask her for a spoon because Sam had taken his fork did not help matters.

Sam's likely reasons for accepting were not thought about.

And she didn't even notice the ease with which she and Sam proceeded to converse, unintentionally excluding Ryan from things.

Man, this chocolate torte was amazing.

{{**}}

Because of his apparently horrendous relationship with karma (seriously: how had he managed to piss it off so badly?!), 'some' time turned into 'a LOT' of time and Sam was an hour late when he finally got to Le Bistrot du Broc.

Stephanie was going to kill him.

And he wouldn't argue with it; strains are the worst joint injury because it is so damned difficult to accurately diagnose the true amount of damage, and then getting everything wrapped, bandaged, iced, and on crutches just takes FOREVER.

It had been unavoidable, and Sam didn't feel guilty about doing his job . . . but was it really so much to ask for a day's reprieve from his hate/confusion relationship with karma?

Not seeing Stephanie impatiently (and angrily) waiting was a punch to the gut, because he hadn't at all expected her to just leave. Being openly judged and found wanting by the hostess was a kick in the teeth, and only rubbed salt in the wound.

Being snarked at by Ryan freaking Elliott was —

Oh, for the love of—

SERIOUSLY?!

Ryan had chosen tonight to bring Cassie to the same restaurant he and Stephanie were supposed to meet?

Sam made the immediate decision to sit down with karma and have a serious conversation about what his sins were that he deserved this. If need be, he'd have wine and chocolate on standby (and possibly a goat, should the situation call for it).

Maybe it was a good thing that Stephanie had left, because he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to eat if he had to watch Ryan fawn over Cassie.

He did not need his night any further ruined, thank you very the hell much.

And why was he going to her table? She was on a date and certainly didn't need him looming (as it were).

But he was completely, utterly unable to stop himself. It seemed that if he was in her presence, he was drawn to her side.

Like a moth to a flame.

Oooh. That was . . . that was a thought he really didn't want.

But then Cassie gently teased him about Stephanie's note and he found himself relaxing a little. At least one person understood and was on his side, though she subtly confirmed that she was upset on Stephanie's behalf as well, which was fair. Hell, he was on Stephanie's side, though he could have done without Cassie's not-at-all-subtle poke about Abigail, something he reinforced with his assurance that her cousin wasn't a problem.

Then she explained about Ryan's phone call and sympathy welled up for her, coupled with confusion. Ryan was in real estate, so why on earth would he be getting a call that couldn't be ignored (or getting at all, actually) this late on a Friday evening?

And what idiot would choose work (when a life wasn't potentially hanging in the balance) over Cassie Nightingale?

He could see both her gratitude and her resentment when she registered his understanding, and mentally nodded; he was feeling much the same, after all.

Therefore, it startled him a little when, out of nowhere, she asked Ryan (when had he come back?) if Sam could join them for dessert.

Umm.

What did he want to do here?

On the one hand, that would require him to a) be polite to Ryan while b) eating food, and c) knowing that he and Cassie were a couple.

On the other hand: chocolate torte AND the opportunity to annoy Ryan while getting to enjoy Cassie's company.

He wavered for a minute, but the other man's clear displeasure with the situation even as he accepted it tipped the scales.

He sat down.

And had to fight hard to keep his smile hidden when Ryan had to get a chair from the table behind them. And then a spoon from Cassie, because Sam had unwittingly stolen his fork.

So when Ryan asked him, with no small amount of sarcasm, how things were going, Sam took a rather vindictive glee in telling him that they were going to need a bigger cake.

Because if Ryan Elliott thought he was going to wine and dine Cassie in front of Sam, he had another think coming.

Wait.

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, he was not feeling that way about Cassie.

He wasn't.

He was just upset about Stephanie standing him up without even trying to contact him first.

That was all.

And if he and Cassie fell into conversation so easily that Ryan wasn't able to get a word in edgewise for a good five or six minutes, well . . .

Being upset made him (and her, it seemed) quick-witted, and they'd always been good conversation partners.

And for a little while, he was able to just enjoy being in Cassie's company. Which meant that the inevitable discomfort they all felt when the cake was gone and it was time to head home was all the more deeply felt.

He finally got past it by making a slightly-risqué joke about Cassie and Ryan coming back to his place, which made him wonder yet again what the hell was wrong with him(could that brain-eating amoeba be back?!), because the very thought of Cassie with Ryan made him queasy; if he kept this up, he'd be the man who invented the surgery to literally remove one's foot from one's mouth. Also, he'd find a way to synthesize working brain bleach, which . . . well, let's be honest: he'd be back-ordered for a year the first hour it was on sale, with himself being his first client.

Cassie's subtle amusement did soothe him a bit, and Ryan's instant 'dog in the manger' comment mostly amused him.

Mostly.

Well.

All told, this had been a really shitty evening, hadn't it, he mused as he headed for the nearby park; he wanted to think for a while and it was hard to do at home.

And he couldn't talk to Cassie about things, because she and Ryan were heading home.

Together.

From a date.

Oh, migraine.

And nausea.

Okay, this was ridiculous. He didn't (want to) know why he was reacting so strongly to Cassie's choices for her romantic life, but it needed to stop.

Yesterday.

Having settled that with himself, he nodded decisively, left Winterthyme Park, and decided to go talk to Stephanie. He did not want this to fester, and he needed to apologize.

As it happened, one had to pass Grey House to get to Main Street from that particular park. And when Sam saw Ryan leaving Grey House as he turned the corner, heading for The Bistro (like him, Stephanie tended to work when she needed a refuge), relief nearly flattened him, because that meant he wasn't staying with Cassie tonight.

Cassie . . .

No, he and she were just friends.

It was the only thing they were supposed to want.

It was the only thing hewas allowed to want.

So being friends was what he wanted.

But it was getting harder and harder to remember why that was the line in the sand.

{{**}}

Ryan's insistence on walking her into Grey House made Cassie sigh mentally. She just wasn't in the mood to deal with Ryan's male ego tonight. But he was persistent and so she let it go, because another argument was the last thing she needed right now.

She did tell him, as politely as possible, that she wasn't up for company any longer, and very nearly rolled her eyes when he disregarded (or maybe he just wasn't listening, a thought she immediately shoved out of her mind) this and made a poor joke about being too safe.

What, were they back in high school?

But he was trying, in his way, to show her he cared, so she said nothing, though her smile was tight and forced.

Again, he didn't notice.

(Sam would have.)

When he brought up her inclusion of Sam into their date, she wasn't surprised; actually, she'd been expecting it from the minute they got in the car.

And maybe it had been unfair of her to just rope Sam in like that, but he had clearly been so unhappy and in obvious need of a friend.

And, quite frankly, she'd needed a buffer, too. She just couldn't handle another clash with Ryan, polite though they were.

So she explained her reasons for asking Sam to join them, making sure to let Ryan know that she appreciated him going along with her.

When he turned that back to their relationship, it caught her off-guard. How could he have totally messed things up with them?

Oh, the Keating House thing.

Hmm. What to say . . .

Maybe give him some food for thought?

"You know, I'm just surprised the deal means as much to you as it does," she said, looking away to collect her thoughts. "I thought we were pretty much on the same page with, well, a lot of things."

Oh, that was more truthful than she'd meant to be.

Shoot.

When he gave her a wry look and said, "I was talking about us," her heart sank.

She just couldn't do this right now.

When he asked if he could hope for a goodnight kiss, she nearly told him 'no'. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge that if she did, a long, drawn-out explanation would then be required.

So she forced a fond smile and gave him a soft kiss on the lips, pulling away before he could do more than take a breath.

She followed this with a gentle joke about 'next time' and thankfully, he followed her lead, accepting this as a positive answer and leaving without saying anything else.

With Nick apparently not at the house (in the back of her mind, she registered this as 'wrong') and Sam having not come home yet (had he gone to see Stephanie? Oh. For some reason, the idea both reassured and unnerved her.), Cassie sighed heavily and looked blindly around the room, feeing oddly bereft at not being able to just sit in companionable silence with him. Since she couldn't have that, what did she want? A hot soak in the tub, maybe? Or a glass of wine?

Ooh. Glass of wine while soaking?

Yes, perfect.

With the rest of her evening set, Cassie moved to grab her purse and noticed the time. It was after eleven, so Grace should be home.

Only she didn't feel her daughter's presence at all. Or her stepdaughter.

But wasn't Lori supposed to pick her up and bring her home after dessert? Which, given she was supposed to get them at ten, meant they should be home by now.

Her repeated calls for Grace got no answer, and when Cassie couldn't find her, either, panic rose up, hard and fast.

It was amplified when Lori ran upstairs, apparently having just arrived, and told her that Grace wasn't with Anthony, or answering her phone.

Which was turned off.

She didn't know where her daughter was, how to find her, or even how to contact her.

And as Cassie picked up Jake's compass, which she had left on Grace's desk, she was suddenly struck with the terrifying knowledge that Grace was lost.

And she was alone.