Maggie

Becca seemed to find the whole situation hilarious. "It wasn't funny!" Maggie protested, while they were sitting in the park the next day, enjoying the cooler weather while it lasted. "She was just staring at me, like I was trying to snatch her precious son out from under her nose. As if."

This made Becca laugh even more, before straightening up and giving Maggie a sly look. "Don't pretend like you haven't thought about it. I've seen the way you look at him, all starry eyed."

"That's the way everyone looks at him! You do it too, you goose." Maggie could feel her cheeks heating up at the implication, even though she knew what she said was the truth. He had that effect on everyone, men and women alike.

Becca nodded, smirking, "You're right, you wouldn't stand a chance with all the competition."

That wasn't exactly what Maggie meant, but she counted it as a victory. "They can have at him, and more power to them at that." She decided to change the subject a bit. "When I have kids, I won't be a helicopter parent like her, not when they're full grown adults."

There was an awkward silence, making Maggie wonder what she said wrong. "Well, I won't have to worry about that," Becca said vaguely, plucking a blade of grass to play with.

Not sure if that was an invitation to further discussion or not, Maggie decided to plow ahead. "What do you mean, Becks?" She tried to sound less curious and more sympathetic, but her natural tone was somewhat intrusive to begin with, at least compared to the smooth southern drawls more common in her new home.

Becca, for her part, seemed glad she asked. "I had cancer, when I was a kid. All the chemo and radiation, it messes with your body. The doctors don't think it likely that I can ever have kids of my own. I don't think I even want any, not after seeing what my parents went through with me."

"You don't talk about your parents much." Maggie had wondered where Nick and Becca's parents were but there hadn't been a good opportunity to ask outright.

Smiling, Becca shook her head. "You don't waste time beating around the bush, do you? No, my parents split up when I was little, mom leaving my dad alone to raise two kids, one with cancer, to boot. Dad works on an oil rig in the gulf. Cancer treatment isn't cheap, you know?"

They sat there a moment in companionable silence, each off in their own thoughts. Maggie was glad that Becca's dad loved her so much, had taken care of her in the face of all those difficulties. "He must be a really good father, to go through so much for you," she said, voicing her thoughts and breaking the silence.

She nodded, "For sure, he's given up everything for us. You know how it is, though, dads and their little girls." Maggie wasn't sure she did know, but remained silent as Becca continued, "Just like moms and their little boys." The smile was back, as she directed the conversation back to lighter topics, ones that she could use to tease Maggie. "I'm sure your mom would be the same as old Mrs. Thornton, if she had a son to hover over."

Another awkward pause, while Maggie decided what to say. Her friend had just revealed a great deal about herself, wasn't it only fair to do the same? "She does. Have a son, I mean. I have an older brother, too."

Becca looked sharply up at Maggie, incredulous. "And you've never mentioned him? After I complain about Nick all the time?" She seemed slightly hurt, but also intrigued.

"Because we don't talk about him." It was that simple. Her parent's barely spoke his name, and she hadn't mentioned him to anyone outside the family in years.

Laying back on the blanket they had strewn on the grass, Becca sighed. "Well, quit your lollygagging, you know I love a good story."

John

The terracotta tiles of the porch felt cool under John's hands, as he paused to sit on the steps for a moment before heading inside. Another frustrating day at work, another conversation that went nowhere with Nick. Nick, his right-hand man, who apparently was the new figurehead for the boycott movement. It hurt him, in some strange way, that they couldn't see eye to eye on something that was sure to have devastating effects on the both of them. Even worse, it was all so pointless. Boycott or no, John felt the situation slipping out of his control, all the hard work and sacrifice falling away into nothing. He thought about what he'd told Maggie, just the day before, about the ramifications of his staff openly fighting against him and The Mill. It wasn't a happy thought, considering what'd he'd have to do to Nick- and Becca, he supposed- if things continued in their present course.

There was no point in feeling sorry himself. He'd learned early on that wallowing got you nowhere fast; he hadn't made it this far just to give up. That wasn't in his nature, even as a child. He was not the kind of man who expected things to be handed to him, or that looked for an easy way out. No, he'd figure something out, just like he always did. This wouldn't be his first brush with adversity, and certainly wasn't the worst. Memories of his time spent in the army rose to the surface, unbidden. Those were the memories he fought against day and night, the ones that haunted him in his darker moments, that forced their way through any small amount of happiness he managed to achieve.

With effort, he decided to leave those ghosts in the past for now, though they were sure to return at the next available moment. He stood up and went inside the house, greeting his mother and sister, noting that they were both absorbed in their own occupations. Mrs. Thornton was addressing envelopes with a practiced flowing script. Meanwhile, Faith seemed to be completing what appeared to be a personality quiz in an issue of Cosmopolitan magazine.

Sitting down heavily, John absently watched his mother for a moment. "It's hard to believe it's already that time of year again, isn't it?"

Mrs. Thornton's hand stilled, and she looked sharply up at her son. "It did come up quickly. You don't think we should cancel this year, do you?" She asked with worry in her brow. "Or at least postpone until all this business is sorted out?"

"No, no," John was quick to reassure her. "I can imagine the things the reporters would have to say about that- no, we want them to think everything right as rain. Cancelling the party would be a sign of defeat. We need to make a show of strength." He glanced at Faith, to gauge her reaction to the conversation. She remained blissfully undisturbed, seemingly oblivious to the social and financial turmoil taking place right under her pert, perfectly tanned nose.

What he wouldn't give to have been able to salvage some of that innocence from his own youth. Faith, by virtue of being both significantly younger and female, had been largely sheltered from the difficulties their family faced in the years after their father's death. John had intentionally seen to it that she was untouched by the hardships he faced on a daily basis, the stress of keeping their family afloat while trying to settle his father's affairs. He had made a lot of sacrifices to ensure her a comfortable and stable life. But there were times, like the present, that made him regret spoiling her so much, coddling her to such a degree that she became self-absorbed.

Deciding to dwell on more pleasant topics, he turned his attention back towards his mother. "So, who made the cut this year?"

"Oh, the usual suspects. The Fosters, the Slicksons. Of course, the Browns, though they'll be in Hilton head, just like they are every year. The Hales will come, don't you think?" she gave her son a pointed look, trying to gauge his reaction to the mention of their name.

Suddenly interested in the conversation, Faith cut in, "I hope the Hale's know how lucky they are to be invited. I'm sure it would do Mr. Hale some good to be introduced to people like the Foster's, you know, to help find more students," she said with an air of disdain, as if she thought John was inviting the Hale's out of a sense of charity.

Her tone irritated John. "I doubt our guest list will influence their decision, Faith," he said tersely.

"Oh, you would know, wouldn't you, John?" Faith fired back, setting her magazine aside and focusing her full attention on her brother. "Especially since you spend as much time at their house as you do at your own. I'm sure Maggie sees you more than I do! I don't know why you think they're so special, so much better than everyone else."

The harsh words caught him off guard, making him pause for a moment and giving his mother time to voice her own opinion. "He's a nice enough fellow, maybe a bit too scholarly. Mrs. Hale, she's too sickly to be of much company. But that girl of theirs, so highfalutin, walking around with her nose so high in the air that she'd drown in rainstorm- a piano teacher's daughter! Who does she think she is?"

Faith was clearly enjoying this rare moment of agreement with her mother, so she added, "And she's so pale! She doesn't work out, doesn't play sports or even run, has never stepped foot in a tanning bed, I'm sure."

This pushed John over the edge. "Tell me, Faith, where else have you found her lacking? You could probably write an entire book on what it would take to bring her up to your lofty standards."

"John," his mother frowned, "Maggie told us herself that she's not into fitness like Faith is. Maybe if you'd stop badgering us about her, we'd like her as much as you do."

Crossing her arms in defiance, Faith shook her head. "No, I don't think I could ever like her." She sounded like a spoiled child, though John supposed it wasn't anyone's fault but his own.

He stood up and paced for a moment, before walking over to the table his mother was working at, trying to ignore Faith as she rolled her eyes and made a show of returning her attention to her magazine. "I just wish y'all would at least try to make an effort to like her," he said, sitting down and taking some of the unfinished envelopes from the stack.

The nagging idea that had formed previously in Mrs. Thornton's mind returned with a vengeance. "Why? What's she to you, John. Are you interested in her? I doubt she feels the same. As a matter of fact, I do believe I've heard talk of an old boyfriend back in Boston, a big shot lawyer or something, that her family thinks she will make up with."

This was news to him, but he pushed down the sting in his heart produced by his mother's comment. "You're right, she'd never date someone like me."

"Of course, a yankee like her would never deem to stoop so low as to date a southerner. She's too big for her britches. Though I don't know where she thinks she could find anyone better." He knew his mother meant no offense in her words; she probably intended them as a compliment, in her own way. That didn't make them any less hurtful, though.

Looking down at the blank envelope in front of him, he said, "Then trust me, this has nothing to do with my feeling some sort of way about Maggie. But she is the Hale's only child. Mr. Hale is my friend, a man I have grown to respect and who has been very kind and patient. This is the last time I will say this- I would appreciate it if y'all would be friendly to Maggie and her family."

Across the room, Faith, who had obviously been paying more attention to their conversation than she let on, let out a snort. "I just don't understand why we have to talk about her so much. It's annoying. I'm tired of hearing her name every second of every day, I'm fixing to lose it."

John was also tired of this discussion, and tired of Faith's bad attitude. "What would you rather talk about, Faith? Would a boycott be more fitting to your dainty sensibilities?" His irritation made the words come out more harshly than he'd intended. Both women stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Frustrated, he pushed back his chair and left the room without another word, leaving his mother and sister wondering what on earth was wrong with him.

Maggie

Though it wasn't a story she had really told anyone, it flowed out of her as if she'd been waiting to let it out for years. "It feels like a very long time ago, but at the same time it seems like just the other day. Finn was always a bit wild, a little reckless. He's several years older than me, so I looked up to him a lot. It broke my heart when he decided to leave to join the army. My mother never seemed to recover from his absence, either. But he wanted to go- dad said we couldn't stop him; that it would be good for him, help him find himself and build character. Though I know he always hoped Finn would be a musician, like him."

Maggie paused, memories of her brother's excited face washing over her. "Finn wanted an adventure, but that's not what the army gave him. He was never cut out for war, didn't have the temperament to withstand the kinds of things soldiers deal with every day. He never expected to be deployed deep in the war zone, to have to witness all the monsters on both sides of the fight. That's how they lure them in, you know, new recruits. They make so many promises, but don't tell them about the terrible parts. Finn was a teenager, barely out of high school. Too young to be making those kinds of life or death decisions."

Sitting up now, Becca was listening intently to her friend's story. "So, what did he do about it?"

This was the part that hurt the worst. What did he do about it, indeed? "He left," she said simply.

"Left? What do you mean he left?" Becca was incredulous. "The army isn't something you can just up and leave at your whimsy."

Now Maggie found it hard to hold Becca's gaze, embarrassment painting her cheeks. "Exactly. He's a deserter. That's why we don't talk about him. He didn't want to kill innocent people- I can't fault him for that. But he disgraced our family, basically exiled himself. And now, mom is sick, and she'll never get to see him again. Like I said, I don't think she ever got over that."

They sat quietly for a moment, letting Maggie's words hang in the air, before Becca asked, "Where is he now?"

"Last we heard from him, he was in Mexico. We don't hear from him often, though. I guess it's safer that way, for him." She sighed, torn between the disappointment and sympathy that always filled her heart when she thought about her brother.

Becca wasn't fond of seeing her friend so distraught. "Well, he's not the first person to ever desert like that. Maybe it wouldn't be so dangerous… and after all these years?" She asked, unsure of the laws surrounding such matters.

It was something Maggie had considered herself, many times, but always with the same answer. "No. The country's at war. The government doesn't take these things lightly, a soldier running away during wartime. Maybe it would turn out okay, but the maximum penalty is death- what if they decided to make an example out of him? Either way, the stress of it all would be too much for my parents. No, he should stay where he is for now."

Still trying to find the silver lining, Becca made one more attempt. "At least his actions came from a good heart, not wanting to fight a war he didn't believe in, against people he didn't see as the enemy. It took courage to stand up for that, even if he went about the wrong way."

"I guess," Maggie said, with a mournful shake of her head. "Though I wish he hadn't been so very courageous to go to war in the first place. At least then he'd be here for mom, when she needs him most."

Once again, they were silent, feeling enough words had been said for the moment. Each of the girls' considered the other one's tragic family history, the revelations weighing heavily on their minds long after they went their separate ways for the day.

John

Sitting in his office, still fuming from the conversation with his mom and sister, John absentmindedly turned over the blank envelope and invitation in his hands. He hadn't even realized he'd brought it with him when he stormed out of the room. It didn't look much different than the ones from the year before, or the year before that. His mother preferred understated and simple invitations, and John let her handle most of the details in planning their yearly dinner party.

Over the years, the party had become something of a big deal. It had started as a way to introduce himself to his new colleagues, while also celebrating the end of a successful summer. Now it included the who's who of the city's music industry and was largely hailed as one of the most important events of year. This required a lot of planning, something John was more than happy to hand off to his mother. She started planning for the next year's soiree almost before the current one was over.

It also usually coincided with the lineup announcement for The Mill's annual music festival, Excelsior, which took place in the spring. Tickets for the festival went on sale the same day, and usually sold out quickly. This year's lineup certainly wasn't the best, but John was satisfied with the bands he'd managed to book for the event. It was a solid group, sure to bring in a good crowd and guarantee a good time. At least, as long as the current status of things held; he shuddered to think what could happen if things escalated too soon.

That's why he needed a backup plan. This wasn't something he could leave to chance- if the boycott started in the near future, he had to have a way to ensure the festival was still a success. An idea sprouted in his mind as he looked over the invitation once more. Maybe there was something he could do, after all. But first, he needed to discuss some things with an old friend, and he thought the party would be the perfect opportunity to do so.

He sat down quickly at the desk, addressing the envelope and jotting down a short message before he changed his mind. John knew his friend wouldn't turn down the invitation, and this was a conversation he felt needed to take place in person. Besides, Williams wasn't an easy man to get in touch with. The rock star life had that effect on people, in John's experience.

No, it would be better to discuss this face to face. Plus, it would give him time to iron out some of the details. He knew his friend wouldn't like it- hell, John didn't like it himself. But he wouldn't go down without a fight, and he thought Williams would understand that, given their history. So, he sealed the envelope, placed a stamp carefully in the corner, and slipped outside to put it in the mailbox. He hated the plan that was forming more clearly in his mind, hated the circumstances that made such a plan necessary, and once again wished things were different. With a quick salute towards the mailbox, he turned and walked back inside, heart heavy and mind racing as he thought about what needed to be done to set his new plan into action.