To 707: Thank you for the compliments! I've been so sick and it's been so long since I've posted that I almost forgot to add this note to the chapter. Forgive me!

Chapter 3

Renaissance

Bitzi hurried back into the kitchen Saturday morning after shoving a load of clothes into the washing machine. She would have made it sooner, but she had to double back after setting the cycle to run and almost forgetting to add detergent. Rushing around in the morning on little sleep was the worst. It always ruffled her, which only compounded the situation. She glanced at the clock on the wall as she reached for the skillet's handle. Half past seven already? Of all nights, why had she chosen last night to stay up?

You know why. It's your fault, and you didn't even accomplish anything. Honestly, if you'd just say something, you'd probably sleep a lot better. Or at least wake up on time.

Just saying something was proving to be more difficult than it should have been, however; and now her poor choices had caused her to sleep nearly forty minutes through her alarm, and she and Buster were both running behind. If only her son were better at getting up with the first alarm rather than hitting the snooze button repeatedly, perhaps he could have saved her this morning. As if choreographed, Bitzi whirled around, skillet in hand, in time with Buster skidding to a halt and having a seat at the breakfast table, where he draped his jacket over his lap like the world's largest, bulkiest napkin.

"Normally, I'd tell you to take your time chewing, hon, but…" she said in a forced, joking manner as she scraped the bacon and scrambled eggs onto his plate in a fashion that was less tidy than usual. She placed the pan back onto the dead burner and grabbed the slices that had just popped up from the toaster, tossing them one at a time to Buster, who caught each piece with the hand that was not shoveling food into his mouth. "Mrs. Read is due here any minute. That's really what you're wearing today, huh?"

She should not have been surprised. Buster had an array of odd and outlandish t-shirts, and he chose to wear one most days of the week. Today's selection was particularly bright, a hot pink tee with a cartoon cat on the front. He had once informed her this character was called "Hello Kitty".

Buster shrugged as he wolfed down his breakfast. "Personally, I never thought I'd wear it again," he said around a mouthful of food, "but Ladonna thinks it's funny, so I've gotta dress to impress."

"I see…" Bitzi said, then realized that she had given all the food to Buster without reserving any for herself. Oh, well. Once she made sure he was taken care of and off to rehearsal for the school musical with a full stomach, she would make some oatmeal. And coffee.

"You and dad had coffee again last night?" Buster said, as if he had sensed where her train of thought was heading.

Although there was no counselling on Fridays, they had met up once the workday was over, at Bo's suggestion and against Bitzi's better judgment. She had needed to go to bed at a decent hour, but she had also needed the opportunity to get some things off her chest. The night had been cold, the conversation had been easy, and the real, fully-caffeinated coffee she had so foolishly ordered had been a welcomed evening treat over her usual herbal tea, which typically tasted like hot water and lawn clippings. The coffee had hyped her up way too much, and she had spent half the night lying in bed, thinking about how she had failed yet again.

"Um, yes. We did," she said. It was a harmless question, so why was she beginning to feel flustered? "How did you know?"

"I just figured. You know, when you sent me off with extra Sugar Bowl money and told me not to rush after rehearsal… You don't need to be nervous, Mom. I'm not going to pry. I was just…curious if I was right."

Bitzi patted Buster's shoulder. "Can't get anything past you."

The sound of an engine outside grew closer to the condo. At this hour, it had to be Jane and Arthur. Buster must have heard it too, for he promptly stood and donned his jacket, then grabbed the remaining rasher of bacon and half toast slice, shoving the lot into his mouth and chewing furiously.

"All right, Professor," she said, "See you later? Dinner will be ready when you get home. Have a good rehearsal, and have fun on your little…date thing."

She knew Buster and Ladonna would be joining Arthur and Francine after rehearsal for pizza and bowling.

"You and Ladonna… You make good choices, okay?"

"Awkward advice, Mom," Buster called over his shoulder, making his way toward the front door, "but I love you anyway!"

Bitzi smiled to herself as she began to clear the dishes from the table. Moments later, Buster was calling out.

"Um…Mom?"

"Yes?" she called back.

"It's not Mrs. Read!"

Dropping the flatware onto the plate, she left the kitchen, wondering who was responsible for the idling engine noises that were right outside her home.

"Then who is it?" she said as she approached, her view blocked by her son standing in the open doorway. The engine died as she peered over Buster's shoulder to get a better look.

"I think it's…Dad? But he's… I don't believe it."

Bitzi followed her son outside in stunned silence as she stared on at the man standing astride an older motorbike, parked next to the curb in front of the condo. A helmet obscured his face, but that did not prevent her from recognizing her ex.

"Bo?" she called.

The man took off his helmet. As he did, the still-rising sun glinted off its shiny black surface, and Bitzi held up a hand to shield her eyes from the flare. It was indeed Buster's father.

"Hey, you two!" he called back cheerfully. "Nice morning, isn't it?"

"What on earth…?"

"No way," Buster breathed as he hurried ahead, the first to greet him. "I didn't know you knew how to ride one of these, Dad."

"I didn't," he said, "not until I took some safety courses. What's that on your shirt?"

"Bo?" said Bitzi. "What's all this?"

"I bought a bike," Bo said simply, cradling the helmet under his arm like a football. He was trying to act casual and doing a transparent job of it. In truth, he exuded the giddy aura of a kid on Christmas morning.

"I can see that. You've just never mentioned it any of the times we've…talked."

She could feel Buster's stare. He was paying close attention to their exchange.

"I wasn't going to tell you until it was a done deal. I knew I'd never hear the end of your ribbing if I bailed. And before you ask: no, this isn't my mid-life-crisismobile. It's just a hobby—those things regular, earthbound people have."

"Mid-life-crisismobile…" Bitzi said with a laugh. "Wow. You only beat me by a second or two with that one."

"Isn't she a beaut?" Bo said as she admired the paint job, true blue with a pearl finish. "Honda, 1980, and runs like a top. I finalized the purchase last Thursday morning. Ed connected me with a terrific seller. Anyway, I was thinking of naming her. How does 'Stella' sound?"

"Ed?" said Bitzi. "As in Crosswire?"

"We hit it off at parents' night. Great guy. So, what do you say, kiddo?" Bo said, turning his attention to Buster. "A spin around the block?"

He thew a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a spare helmet anchored down under a cargo net behind the pillion.

"Aw, man," Buster groaned. "I wish I could, but I'm waiting for my ride to play practice."

As if on cue, Jane Read pulled up to the curb and blasted a short, friendly honk! The three Baxters had been so engrossed in Bo's acquisition they had not even noticed the car approaching.

"Maybe later, then," Bo said as he and Bitzi waved back.

Buster flashed them a peace sign as he jogged off to scramble into the backseat. As she pulled away, Jane shot Bitzi a raised eyebrow. Her eyes darted to Bo and the bike, looking him up and down, before returning to Bitzi, accompanied by a questioning expression. She was gone before Bitzi could wordlessly indicate she had no clue what Jane was trying to ask.

"What about you, jefe?"

Bitzi looked back to Bo, who held the spare helmet out to her.

"Fancy a ride?"

"Me? Oh, I don't know, Bo… I probably shouldn't."

"I'm pretty capable with Stella, if you're nervous."

"It's not that. I have clothes in the wash and a sink full of dishes, and—"

"And I'd be happy to help take care of them once we get back. Please, Bitz? It won't take long. I have to be in Ingram by noon, so I'm sort of on a schedule too. You deserve a break. Have you even had breakfast?"

"Accidentally gave it to Buster…"

"That just proves my point. You need to slow down."

I need to sleep better.

She did not want to turn him down. He looked so excited, and she had not been on the back of a bike since college. It sounded like a fun way to grab breakfast on this crisp morning. She wanted to get away, if only briefly, but she needed to get a lot done today. Right now, her needs outweighed her wants.

You know, you also need to talk to him about certain things. This could be a chance for a do-over on last night.

"Well, if you're going to beg me…" she joked, "I'll grab my coat."

Minutes later, she sat on the pillion with her arms wrapped around Bo's shoulders as they puttered along, winding their way through the suburbs and into downtown Elwood City. It was chilly for sure, but she felt safe enough. She had not slowed down enough lately to really appreciate how beautiful the city was this time of year, and it was nice to get a look at it from this perspective, a casual observer out for a drive.

Bo pulled over at the open-air market, which was already bustling despite the temperature. They stopped by the bakery for bialys and coffee before Bitzi took him on a tour of the shops and stands. Bo had expressed skepticism as they strolled along, insisting the bialys here could never rival the ones he got in New York but looked impressed upon taking his first bite, and he reluctantly declared it "decent" before devouring the whole thing in one minute. Their feet carried them toward the square as they chatted, their voices growing quieter the farther away they got from the crowd. Now would be a good time to strike up a conversation.

"So, you and Ed Crosswire… You boys hang out often?"

Just as soon as she satisfied her curiosity.

"I wouldn't say 'often'," said Bo. "Might have been over to his house a couple of times. Just conversation and brandy."

"Ooh, look at you, Mr. Fancy Pants. Was it served in crystal snifters?"

"Or maybe it was scotch. And, yes, it was. But he's not really a fancy guy. He didn't come from money, did he?"

"His family has had a successful business in this town since the sixties."

"Not really the same thing as coming from money, though, is it? I figured as much. He seems out of place in that gigantic house. Millicent, though, she's cut from a different cloth. Don't get me wrong, she's lovely, but I get major finishing school vibes from her."

"She was born well off," Bitzi said, "but Ed built pretty much everything he has."

"I forget how much you know about everyone in this town. Any particular reason why she keeps Ed on a leash?"

Now there was some new information.

"Wait—what makes you assume that? What did Millicent do?"

"Oh, you know, nothing like…" Bo made the gesture of cracking a whip. "Nothing she did per se, just the way Ed acts around her, like he lives to serve her. He drops everything he's doing and gives her laser focus. It had a vibe, that's all."

"You and your vibes… Maybe Ed just discovered the key to a successful marriage," Bitzi said, with a laugh. "They have been married for nearly twenty-five years, after all, so they must be doing something right."

"What else do you know about him?"

"He hardly stops. Hasn't for the past few years. He used to be a workaholic, and I guess he still is in a sense, but he's different. A different focus now. He's a lot more generous. A lot more generous. He's begun new business ventures over the years, sure, but in turn, he's given away massive amounts of money. As we were cruising through town, I realized just how much he's responsible for changing around here. The dog park, the computer room at the library, the re-build at the horse rescue, the wheelchair accessible pathway at World's End Park—that was him. That's just the tip of the iceberg, and those are just the things he's done for Elwood City. The road from here to Ingram—Kelsey Snyder Memorial Highway? He had a hand in that, too.

"Was she a relative of his?"

"Ed didn't know Kelsey existed until her father took a swing at him in the middle of lunch a few years back."

Bo stopped and stared at her. "Okay, you can't answer a question like that and not explain further."

"It's an awful story, really. Kelsey died in an auto accident a few years ago, as you've probably guessed. I think it was in two thousand and three. No—two thousand and four. She happened to be driving a car her parents purchased from Crosswire Motors. That's what Certified Pre-Owned of Elwood used to be called. She was driving home, past curfew and on a Friday night, and she ran into the back of a tractor trailer truck that had stopped to make a turn. She was going nearly sixty miles an hour, and she was in a small, fast coupe. I'm sure you can imagine the damage. She was only sixteen."

Bo winced. "That's terrible," he said. "That poor girl. But why would it matter that she was driving a Crosswire Motors vehicle? Unless… No. You're not telling me there was something faulty with her car?"

"That's…where it gets a little crazy. The Snyders, Frank and Claudia, certainly seemed to think so. Frank confronted Ed while he and Millicent were dining at Café con Leche and accused him of selling them a defective car, claiming it killed their daughter. Frank caused a big scene, and then he threw a punch at Ed, but it didn't land. Ed ducked it. Not sure if it was quick reflexes or if he had that much experience dealing with angry customers. A few restaurant patrons pitched in, helped remove Frank from the café as he was kicking and screaming."

"Man… So, was the car faulty?"

"There was no evidence whatsoever to support Snyder's claim. There were no eye witnesses, and Nick Harding, the driver of the truck, said all he knew was that he saw Kelsey's headlights coming right for him in his mirrors, and she didn't seem to make an effort to stop. There was an investigation, of course. Ed did his due diligence, too, and launched his own investigation. He contacted the car manufacturer, checked for recall notices and complaints on the model. He even backtracked the car's previous ownership and repair history, just to be sure there was nothing unusual and that he hadn't missed something. And it checked out, which was lucky for him because Crosswire Motors didn't always have the cleanest track record. But he was thorough. Everyone was very thorough."

"And?"

Bo looked to be on the edge of his seat, even though they were still walking. They were circling the fountain in the square, which Ed Crosswire had also paid for.

"It was concluded that the accident was Kelsey's fault," said Bitzi. "The most damning evidence was her cell phone. She had been in the middle of texting a friend when the accident happened. It sat in her phone, unfinished and unsent, and her last sent text was timestamped two minutes prior to the accident. It was a tragic case of distracted driving and nothing more."

"Wow. Did the evidence come to light after Frank took a shot at Ed?"

"Before."

"He couldn't accept the truth or something?"

"The Snyders never attempted a lawsuit, so it's anyone's guess. Maybe he needed someone else to blame, to make sense why his little girl was taken away from him. Your mind can go to crazy places after the loss of a child. I know I don't have to tell you that."

"Wow," he said again.

"Regardless of his innocence, Ed must have felt sympathy for the Snyders. He tried to do as much as he could for them, apart from the highway dedication. It's not common knowledge, but he paid for Kelsey's funeral expenses, even after Frank Snyder refused his money. Official word is that the funeral home received an anonymous donation, but…"

"You have a reliable source."

Bitzi said nothing but removed a hand from her warm coffee cup to tap the side of her nose.

"Since the run-in with Snyder, he's changed. I'm only speculating, but it's awfully suspicious timing with the Crosswire renaissance that happened around town, and now Ed's the closest thing we have to a superhero."

"With his kind of money," said Bo thoughtfully, "I guess it beats having a supervillain on your hands. Do you know what this reminds me of, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way?"

"What's that?"

"When you used to give me the scoop. Do you remember that?"

He was referring to the evenings they would relax on the sofa in their old home. Bo would sometimes play something mellow on the Thorens, and they would unwind and catch up. Bitzi would fill him in on the dirtiest gossip she was at liberty to discuss, usually revolving around whichever story she was investigating at the time, or she would give him a rundown of her encounter with one of her various sleazy contacts. And Bo would hang on her every word.

"Oh, I remember, all right," she said.

"I'm just talking about the familiarity of it, you know. I feel like I've got my own personal x-ray machine on this town. I haven't been this hooked by a conversation in a while, and the company isn't half bad either."

"Aw, shucks, Bo. I understand what you mean."

It does feel familiar. Easy.

When things were not tense between them, talking with Bo was easy. It had been easy since the day they first met. It pained her to have to steer the conversation into more personal, pertinent territory.

"I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?" said Bo.

"'Stella' is a pretty great name for a motorcycle," she said with a smile.

Bo's curious expression relaxed, and he smiled too.

Later. She would tell him later. She was enjoying herself too much at the moment.

To be continued…