To ColdSlaw: Not sure if you were on the giving or receiving end of the assumptions, but it's not a fun place to be regardless.

Chapter 40

What We Do in the Shadows

It had not been easy to leave Francine behind in such low spirits, but upon having her offer turned down, Muffy hesitantly bid her farewell Monday afternoon. She had wanted to stay in the limo, parked in the MCM lot on standby, just in case her best friend needed an emergency exit from rehearsal.

"Nah," Francine had muttered bitterly as the two girls stood in front of Francine's open locker after final bell. "I've got a ride with Jenna this evening. I'll make it through. And if I end up having to walk home sick, well, it's probably what I deserve."

Maybe she was just being dramatic, but the possibility of Francine getting sick again was the part that worried Muffy most. True to her word, she had not told anyone about Francine bolting to the girls room after Arthur stormed off, and she hoped the sickness was just a one-time thing Francine needed to get out of her system, a bout of nerves over the play, coming out in a literal rush. However, maybe Francine would be dealing a lot better right now if it were just nerves. Muffy doubted the play was the only thing bothering her at the moment. She did not yet know exactly what had happened between Francine and Arthur to make them so snippy toward each other, but she was willing to bet serious money it had something to do with Sue Ellen and how she had accompanied Arthur to the Autumn Ball. Soon enough, she would get the dirt from Francine, exactly what had gone down, but only after Francine put the play behind her. It definitely would not be wise to agitate her further at a time like this. Right now, Muffy would occupy her time with obtaining answers to questions that concerned her life and her freedom.

Why haven't I heard from Daddy?

That was the most important question, the one that currently ground her homework to a halt. Two hours ago, as soon as she hadmade it home after school, Muffy made a beeline for her father's office and proudly placed her progress report on his desk, where he would surely spot it as soon as he entered the room. All she would have to do is go to the Crosswire library, get started on her homework, and wait for either her daddy to find her himself or summon her via Bailey, after which he would congratulate her on her most recent success. But Muffy had heard nothing from him so far. Her father rarely stayed out late anymore. In the past several years, he had made it a point to come home in the afternoon. If he had pressing business, he would at least stop by and have dinner with his family before heading out again. Short of an emergency, he should be home by now. Consumed by a combination of mounting curiosity and impatience, Muffy dropped her purple highlighter and rose from her chair at the long library table, deciding that, if her daddy would not seek her, then she would seek him.

She was halfway to the den when she realized she was creeping along the halls of the mansion like some sort of cat burglar prowling through a stranger's home. Pausing briefly to shake her head at the silliness of her actions, she then carried on at her normal gait and pace. After discovering an empty den, Muffy checked the kitchen. Bailey was the sole occupant, sitting on one of the stools with an open book in his hands, a timer ticking away on the countertop, no doubt counting down until it was time to pull whatever was causing the tantalizing aroma to emanate from the oven.

"Bailey," said Muffy, "have you seen Daddy?"

Bailey closed his book and put it down so he could give Muffy his full attention, but he kept one index finger sandwiched between its pages so he would not completely lose his place. Muffy was instantly reminded of Alan. Her tutor had done the exact same thing on multiple occasions.

"Yes, Miss Muffy. When I last saw your father, he had just arrived. He was on his phone and headed to his office. That was a bit over an hour ago, I believe."

"Okay…thanks."

Then why had he not said anything? As she approached her father's office, Muffy found that she was intentionally creeping this time, listening carefully for the sound of her father's voice. Could it be that he was still on the phone, and that was why he had not called for her? He was known for his lengthy conversations. No noise came from the office's open door, and Muffy could see that the light was off. Though she doubted her father would sit in a darkened room, she stopped to peer in all the same. Her progress report sat face up atop the blotter on her father's desk, exactly where she had left it. Muffy was disappointed that it seemed her father had not even noticed. Just as Bailey had said, he had indeed paid his office a visit. His chair had been moved, and a small stack of spiral-bound papers sat to one side of the desk, bright white against the red of the Dalbergia's polished finish. Muffy was tempted to step inside and have a look at the new additions, but before she could, she heard heavy footsteps and her father's distinctive voice approaching. He rounded the corner, still donning his overcoat and talking into his cell phone.

"One thing's for sure," he said, his voice low but sounding happy and fond of the person on the other end, "I'm glad I mentioned it to you. You've really broadened my horizons."

Her father continued down the hall with a smile on his face, and it grew even wider when he saw Muffy standing in his office doorway, though he kept talking.

"I owe you dinner for this…heh heh, no, I'm serious. You're the best. Listen, Muffy's here–I'll talk to you soon, okay? Have a good evening… Hiya, Muffykins. Were you waiting for me?"

"I've been looking all over for you, Daddy."

"Oh," he said dropping his phone into his coat pocket. "I just came from the kitchen. You shoulda checked there."

"I just did. Bailey said he hasn't seen you for an hour."

"Well…what I meant was I just came through the kitchen. I had to take a very important call out on the patio. Your mother had a hard time sleeping last night, and she's napping upstairs. I didn't wanna risk waking her. So…what can I do for you?"

"Did you forget what today is?"

Her father looked lost as he appeared to search his memory.

"Um…"

"It's progress report day."

"Oh, right! That is in November, isn't it? Sorry, pumpkin, I've either been on the phone or on the road all day long—tons of exciting stuff going on—and it must've slipped my mind. Wouldn't happen to have a copy, would you?"

"Yes. We got printouts this morning in homeroom. I left it on your desk."

"Well, let's just give it a look-see, then!"

Muffy instinctively stepped back so he could enter the office first and flip the light switch, then she followed behind him. To her surprise, as he rounded the desk, her father reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, withdrew a pair of dark-rimmed reading glasses, and put them on. He glanced at her, caught the look she was giving him, and tapped the frames.

"Got 'em this morning," he said with a chuckle. "You like 'em?"

She did not dislike the glasses, but her daddy looked different with them on. Combined with his graying hair, they undeniably made him seem older.

"You look distinguished, Daddy. Love the frames."

"Your mother has great taste," he agreed. "I can't believe I put off getting readers for so long—they really make a world of difference. Anyway, enough about me. I suspect this is pretty good news since you're chomping at the bit…" He snatched the progress report from his blotter and held it up so he could read it. A moment or two passed, and her father beamed at the page, reading aloud from the note Mr. Porter had written in the comments section: "'Not only has Muffy shown a marked improvement in her assignments during this grading period, she has also displayed a positive change in her attitude toward my class. Keep up the great work!' Muffin, this week was already of to a fantastic start, but this is the cherry on top of the sundae. I'm so proud of you!"

Her father spread his arms wide, and Muffy was quick to hug him. As soon as they parted, Muffy went for it.

"I knew you'd be happy. Since I'm doing so well, is it okay if I move my Thursday session with Alan to Sunday, just for this week? I'd like to go see The Music Man on opening night and then go to the Sugar Bowl after that. For Francine. Please? I've already mentioned it to Alan, and he's fine with the switch."

"That's A-okay with me, sweetie. And when you see Alan tomorrow, tell him he's getting a—just a sec…"

Her father's phone chimed with a text, and he took it from his pocket to read the message. His smile drew to a line for a split second, and he pocketed the phone again with haste.

"What's that about?" said Muffy.

"Nothing that can't wait. Like I was saying, it's all perfectly fine, and I hope you have a great time. And tell Alan he's getting another raise for me, would you?"

Muffy giggled. "Sure, Daddy. What's all this on your desk?"

She was referring to the stack her father had left during his initial visit to the office this afternoon. As soon as Muffy mentioned it, his smile was back.

"Now, that I can't wait to tell you about," he said.

"So, I guess this is it for a few days, huh?" said Bo.

Twilight was upon them. Their appointment was over, and he and Bitzi took their time as they strolled to their cars, which were parked side by side in the lot across the street from Dr. Chen's. The counselor's office would be closed the following week for Thanksgiving, which meant they would have to wait two weeks before their next appointment with her.

Bitzi nodded as she hugged herself, tightening her coat around her waist to stay warm. "For Dr. Chen, it is. Don't forget there's still the play this weekend, then Thanksgiving."

"No chance I'll forget… When do you plan on seeing your new guy again?"

"With any luck, as soon as possible after Thanksgiving," she said with a soft smile that wilted within seconds. "I don't think Buster was thrilled with the news. When it comes to me and dating, he hasn't been very optimistic, not since I broke things off with Harry the second time. At least, that's the way it seems. Maybe I shouldn't have told him anything, just said I was working late. I just didn't want to lie outright, not after what happened this summer. But I honestly don't know if this was better."

"You told him what you could, Bitz."

"And you're sure it was right?"

"It's…a sticky situation," he said. "You don't want to raise his hopes prematurely, and I respect that. I think it's reasonable to stay low-key until you're ready. And in the interest of transparency, I think I should let you know he called me this afternoon before rehearsal."

Bitzi paused, gripping her car's door handle before ultimately letting her hand drop. "Go on."

"He…asked me if I knew you were seeing someone, and I said I did. Then he asked how I felt about it."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him the truth. I said I was okay with it, one hundred percent. He seemed a little surprised to hear that, I think, but he also sounded a lot less on edge by the time we hung up. I think he's worried about how we're going to navigate all this, but he'll understand in time." Bo gave her a confident, encouraging smile. "I'm sure he will. And I still agree with you that this is probably the best course of action."

Bitzi heaved an enormous sigh before opening the door. "I really needed to hear you say that," she said before getting in.

At this time, exactly two days ago, Catherine had taken Chip back to the emergency room, after they both woke up from a nap to discover Chip's head wound looking very red, swollen, and angry. After gaining a prescription for antibiotics as well as assurance from the doctor that he was not going to die from the infection that had sprung up without much warning, Chip wanted to know if he could expect the swelling to disappear before Thanksgiving, and he seemed relieved to hear that it would as long as proper care was administered. On the drive back to Tarver from the pharmacy, as Chip nursed his freshly-bandaged head with the plastic cold pack given to him in the ER, Catherine wanted to know why Chip had asked that particular question.

"Because," Chip said in his most clearheaded voice since the accident at the Waterfront, "I can't just waltz into the mansion looking like this. I'd rather they not know this happened."

"You're not going to tell them?" She hoped the question did not sound too leading. "Not even…just your mom?"

"Hell, no. No way would she keep this to herself. At least, I doubt it. And anyway, the docs seem to think I'll be doing a lot better in a few days. Who cares if I keep it a secret as long as I heal?"

It was not hard for Catherine to read between the lines. Chip was likely most concerned that his father would find out about his injury, which made little sense to her as this whole ordeal involved Chip's health and safety, and if there was ever a time to put familial hang-ups aside, it was now.

It's amazing what machismo and daddy issues can do, she thought. Gotta love it.

As weird as it was to admit, she was glad to know Chip held this opinion. It made her feel less guilty about the snap decision she had made the day before and what she planned to do behind his back, if only a little less guilty.

"Your call," she told him as she drove on.

Now it was Monday, and Catherine could barely contain her shock when Chip begged her to let him call his mother. She had finally come around and agreed to charge Chip's phone and screen his calls and texts in case anything important came through. That was when she had happened across the missed text from Muffy, which had been sent the previous day: You should totally call Mom ASAP.

"Please, Cat. What if she suspects something? What if she's heard something? I really don't want to scare her."

After her brief phone call with Ed Saturday morning, Catherine knew Millicent suspected something was up with Chip, even if she did not know exactly what it was. Maybe that was why Muffy had reached out on her behalf. Was Millicent worrying herself with anticipation? In hindsight, Catherine wished she had waited to make that call. Lesson learned.

"Just let me talk to her for a minute or two and see what she wants. I'll even lie down while I do it, if it makes you feel better. Cat?"

Catherine had been holding the phone behind her back in the event of Chip trying to grab it from her. Reluctantly, she held it out to him. "Five minutes," she said.

"For real?"

"Yeah. Find out what she wants, ease her mind, and then it's back to rest. You want to be in good shape for Thanksgiving, right?"

Catherine watched Chip carefully as he reclined on her sofa, holding his phone to his ear with one hand and a towel-wrapped ice pack to his forehead with the other. While he waited for his mother to pick up, he whispered, "I promise my head won't explode Scanners-style." That was not the only reason she was keeping such a close eye on him. Secretly, she was a tiny bit afraid Millicent might give away too much, and Chip would figure out someone was feeding his mother information. It was true that Millicent, Ed, and Catherine had all managed to keep their alliance under wraps for years now, but all it took was one slip-up to unravel everything.

"Hey, Mom, how's it going?" he said casually into the phone. "I…didn't wake you, did I? I can call back later… Oh, okay. Cool… It's good to hear from you too… Aw, nothing much, just chilling at home. It's my day off, and I'm trying to get as much rest as I can. Thinking about watching a movie later, but I can't make up my mind on which one… Thanksgiving? Yeah, I'm still coming. Did you think I'd changed my mind?"

Just as the conversation was drifting into juicier territory, Catherine's phone began vibrating on the kitchen table where she had left it. She hoped it was a telemarketer or another call she could easily decline, but she had a sinking feeling she would not be so lucky.

"Shit," she whispered when she saw that it was her mother calling, and Catherine ran to her en-suite bathroom and shut the door before answering. "Hi, Mom."

"Catherine, honey, you sound out of breath."

"Yeah, sorry, I had to run to reach my phone in time. What's up?"

"Just checking in to see if you're coming by for dinner tonight."

"Um, did I say I was coming to dinner?"

"No, but when I asked you last week, you said you might next week, and now 'next week' is this week, so I'm asking again. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine. Totally fine, but I'm sorry. I won't be able to make it this week either."

"Catherine, Bubby misses you. She's asked about you every day since she got here."

It was not like her mother to lay a guilt trip on her. What was more, she actually sounded hurt by Catherine's absence, which made Catherine's heart twinge in return.

"I know, Mom, I know. And I'm so, so sorry. But something came up at Tarver over the weekend. The situation is kind of volatile, and I really need to be here. I'll make it up to Bubby, I promise. When things calm down, I'll take her out, a girls' day on the town. Just the two of us. Will you tell her?"

"You can tell her yourself Thursday night when we see you at the play."

"Play?"

"Francine's school musical."

Catherine moved the phone away from her face so she could mouth another choice swear. She returned to the conversation with, "That's this week?"

"Don't tell me you're going to skip out on that too."

"Well…"

"I remember you saying that Rudy and Janice are willing to work with your schedule," she countered, sounding reasonable now, "that everyone at Tarver pitches in and helps each other out when they're in a tight spot. Goodness knows you've sacrificed plenty of time for that place, Catherine. Don't you think it's time they helped you out a little?"

What could Catherine say? Her mother was right. She had given a lot of extra time to Tarver, and Catherine had every right to call in a favor. What she could not tell her mother, however, was that she was calling in every favor Tarver owed her right now, and she did not wish to leave Chip's side no matter how many plays her sister starred in or how much her grandmother missed her. She really hated it when life forced her to compromise.

"I…I guess so. I'll try, Mom. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, honey. You've always been good at keeping your promises. I'd hate to see you make a habit of breaking them."

Catherine shot a text to Brett as soon as she hung up with her mother.

I don't suppose you'd be willing to hang at the front office for a few hours Thursday night? I promised my family I'd meet up with them weeks ago, and Mom was grumpy when I tried to cancel. I just want to make sure someone's around in case my friend needs help. Pretty please with sprinkles?

She was finishing up the message as she entered the living room to a concerned Chip, who was now sitting upright.

"You okay?" he said.

She shrugged. "How did it go with your mom?"

"Oh, pfft! I think she just misses me and it's made her paranoid. Get this—she asked me if I was moving away from Belmont, then she asked me if I was engaged. I don't know where she gets her ideas."

Millicent had managed not to give too much away. That was a small load off Catherine's mind.

"What did your mom say?" added Chip.

"She— How did you know I was talking to Mom?"

"I recognize that face," he said leaning back on the accent pillows that cushioned the arm of the sofa and repositioning his ice pack. "You were talking to a parent, and it didn't go well."

Catherine sat down next to Chip's sock-clad feet. "Do you think you'll be all right if I leave you with a babysitter Thursday night?"

"Say what?" he said, lifting the ice momentarily, as if that would somehow help him hear her better.

"Francine's musical is Thursday, and I kind of, sort of can't get out of it. I asked Brett to look out for you, but I don't know if he's available yet. I just want him to call and check in, and you can call him if there's an emergency. I'll leave the door unlocked."

"Um, yeah, I guess that'll be all right."

"If I go, do you promise me you'll rest and only get up if it's absolutely necessary?"

"Like if I need to tinkle?" Chip said with a pained grin. "Don't worry about me, Cat. Go have fun with your peeps. I'll be good, I swear."

"Okay," she said, "but it's not set in stone. I'm only going if you're showing signs of improvement. If I have a bad feeling about anything, I will find a way to get out of this—oh, Brett's hitting me back!"

It was good news.

Sounds kinda fun. Spring for a pizza and a couple of cold ones so Aaron and I can make it a date, and you've got yourself a deal, babe. J/K about the pizza. Unless you really want to ;)

"Looks like we're all set," she said, flashing Chip a thumbs up even though his eyes were now closed. "Let's just see what Thursday brings."

Catherine was typing a confirmation to Brett when inspiration hit her. Instead, she pulled up an entirely different and unnamed contact before sending a new text to Ed Crosswire: Schedule change. I'm going to be in town Thursday evening. Would you like to bump up our meeting?

To be continued…