9. Friends and Saboteurs
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"Good morning, Mr. Montgomery."
"Good morning." Craig didn't bother to look at the server who wheeled his breakfast cart into the suite. The same moron had delivered it every day this week. He would be replaced by another moron next week. They were nameless, faceless flunkies; interchangeable cogs in the well-oiled machinery of his life.
Signing the bill and dismissing the insignificant, he steeled himself before unveiling his breakfast. For the past five mornings, he'd had oatmeal. A misfire in his ordered life.
He'd assumed enlightening Rosanna and creating a certain distance between her and Carly would facilitate a reconciliation. And in some ways it had. Rosanna had moved in, unpacked and stepped into the role of default stepmother easily. She already knew more about Johnny's friends and school than he did. She took him to play dates and signed him up for a weekly art class. Johnny seemed to thrive on her attention.
In fact, he could argue she spent more time with his son than him.
Not that it mattered. It played into his hands. He fully intended to be married by Thanksgiving. Johnny needed a mother. He needed a wife. Only his stupidity and lust had kept them from being married last winter. The sooner that mistake was corrected, the sooner they would all be settled and happy.
Happy was not how he'd describe Rosanna now. She'd sulked since learning of Carly's pregnancy. Throughout Jacob's party, she'd tried to stay distant and detached, but she was clearly hurt Carly's attention never focused on her. After Jack's dramatic exit, the situation deteriorated as Carly sought out Lily for some hushed corner conversation before departing early with the kids herself.
Which lead him back to the prospect of a sixth morning of oatmeal. Rosanna's distraction somehow manifested itself in repeating the same breakfast order. One day of it was tolerable. Days two and three he swallowed for Johnny's sake. By day four, he'd pointedly asked Rosanna to order a Denver omlette with whole wheat toast (his concession to being health conscience.). His fifth bowl of oatmeal nearly got thrown out the window.
As he apprehensively lifted the lid from his room service tray, the unmistakeable aroma of oatmeal again permeated the air.
Somehow, some way, he had to shake Rosanna out of this malaise.
Before he woke up smothered in brown sugar and drowning in milk.
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"I suppose you're too old to want peanut butter on those," Henry observed, placing a stack of waffles in front of his baby sister. Her appearance on his doorstep had been a welcome surprise, if completely unexpected. Barbara had fussed over her new sister-in-law awkwardly at first; insisting that Maddie address her as "Barbara" and stay in the suite adjoining theirs. But the discussion soon turned to Will, Gwen and Hallie, easing the discomfort a bit.
"I haven't put peanut butter on waffles since I was like three." Sitting at the counter at Al's, Maddie made a half-hearted attempt at eating, only to push syrup drenched squares around her plate. "How did you remember that anyway?"
"It's hard to forget living above a waffle house, paying off the busboys for the leftovers. We ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner for an entire year. It got old quick. But you, my little Maddie-Monkey, clapped happily every night when I came home loaded down with them. I started putting peanut butter on them so we could sit in front of the tv."
"I suppose I remind you of a three year old, just showing up on your door like I did," Maddie replied self-consciously.
"It was a surprise."
"I'm sure Barbara was thrilled. By the way, it still freaks me out a little that you're married to Will's mom."
"Barbara was thrilled and I'm still a little freaked out at being married. Happily married anyway."
"It was nice seeing Katie and Jacob yesterday. Even with the weird vibe going on. I'm glad you've made up. Brad would be happy that you're still friends."
"Yes, yes he would-"
"Do you think Chris-"
"Madeline Elizabeth Coleman, that's enough stalling!" Henry ordered, concern etched on his face. "I let it go yesterday when you showed up out of the blue, in the middle of your semester. What is going on?"
"I dropped out."
"Ha-ha. Very funny. My brainiac sister is leaving Wesleyan, only the college she dreamed about going to forever. The only one she applied to."
"It's not what I thought it was," she whispered apologetically. "It's great-but I'm miserable there."
"Does this have anything to do with Casey? Or that punk Hunter McWho'sit?"
"No, not really," she shrugged. "It's not like I'm pining after Casey. Anymore," she added quickly. "And Hunter's-well, he's Hunter. Socially clumsy and awkwardly linear, but nice. We're fine. We agreed to be friends. Nothing more. I just came to the conclusion Film Studies isn't for me. I took those semesters off, and the credits from Oakdale U didn't transfer like I thought they would." Putting her fork down, she looked up at him. "It's not the middle of my semester. I never went back."
Shocked, Henry grabbed the bar towel from his shoulder and slapped it on the counter. "Are you freakin' kidding me?"
"It's my life!" Maddie responded hotly.
"But dropping out?"
"What should I have done? Stayed when I don't belong there? Piled up more debt to get a degree I'm never going to use?"
"Well, at least you'd have something to point at," he huffed. Seeing he was getting nowhere with that tack, he asked a more pertinent question. "If you're Ms. Independent...what are you doing showing up on my doorstep?"
"I need a small loan," she answered reluctantly.
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Carly studied Lily contritely from her doorway. "I promised to call you last night, didn't I?"
"You did," Lily confirmed as Carly invited her inside. "How's Jack?"
Smiling tightly, Carly shrugged her shoulders. "As okay as anyone could be. You know Jack, keeping it all "under control" the way he does. When he blows, he blows big-like he did at Chris the other day."
"Chris? Chris Hughes?"
"It wasn't serious," Carly assured her. "And thank you for keeping me from flying after him. I'm too protective sometimes. I let him come to me when he was ready. I wasn't worried he would leave town," Carly clarified. "But I'm not sure he would have seen it that way."
"The Snyder Pride is a powerful thing, isn't it? Can't worry about them. They'd rather chew off an arm before admitting they need anyone or anything."
"Annoying, isn't it?"
"Very!" Lily agreed, following Carly into the kitchen, where she accepted a cup of decaffeinated coffee. "Where is Jack?"
"Where else? The precinct." Her tone confirmed she was not happy about it. "He wouldn't consider staying home."
"Bye, Mom," JJ called out, slamming out the front door.
"Another country heard from," Carly said sardonically, taking a sip from her mug.
"That face looks familiar," Lily sympathized. "Raising them never gets easier."
"No it doesn't. And in true Snyder style, he doesn't want to talk. I'm trying to be patient with him. Though I'm not sure how long this hands off approach is going to last." Leaning against the counter, Carly took in one deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Enough about me. You were saying last night you wanted to talk to me."
"Yes," Lily smiled.
"Have you talked to Emma?" Carly went on, heedless of her invitation to let Lily talk. "Do you think she'll be back for Thanksgiving? I can't believe she's been gone for this long. She loves the fall-harvesting, putting up her preserves. It must be strange for her not being here now." Last Thanksgiving flashed through her mind; having Emma thank her for bringing Jack home, only to flee at seeing Janet cling to him like a starving bloodsucker. The memory still stung, emotion outweighing reason for a split second.
"I haven't talked to her for a couple of days," Lily replied, not surprised Carly was still directing the conversation. "I've been really busy at work."
"What's going on?"
"Well...I suppose there's no harm in telling you. It'll be public soon enough," Lily slyly started. "Barbara's selling off B.R.O. WorldWide's in the process of buying it, right down to the last button."
Carly's eyes widened in shock. "Really?"
"Yep."
"That's..." Carly's head spun a little, remembering all the time she'd envied Barbara's position in the fashion industry. "Good for her. I always thought you'd have to wheel her out of there in a straight jacket or a body bag, but obviously I was wrong."
"By the looks of it, she's very happy with Henry. They want to run Metro together, from what I understand."
"Talk about irony. I could barely get Henry's attention when we owned it."
"There are some fringe benefits to marriage," Lily observed drolly. "Or disadvantages. I'm not sure how one would deal with Henry all day, every day."
"You got a point there. Henry's best in small doses," Carly agreed, shaking her head. "Funny the way our lives overlap sometimes."
"Meaning...?" Lily left the question open-ended, hoping Carly's natural curiosity would start some wheels turning and make Dusty's offer a bit more tantalizing.
"Well, just...I owned Metro, and now they do. Hal. Craig. Julia. James," she added, in full venom. "I spent years trying to emulate her. And here were are now, two happily married ladies."
"It's hard to imagine Barbara being happy not designing."
Carly dumped the rest of her coffee down the sink, rinsing it with a splash from the faucet. "Giving up must be easier than having it burned out from underneath you," she muttered under her breath.
"What?"
"Nothing. Give Dusty my congratulations. It's quite a coup."
"You could do that yourself," Lily countered.
"Not with Janet anywhere around, thank you very much," Carly erupted, a deep belly laugh filling the room.
"You may have a point. She acted very weird the other day when she found me in Dusty's office."
Carly raised her eyebrows. "Were you...?"
"Was I what?" Lily sputtered.
"You're an adult. I shouldn't have to spell it out!" Carly mocked.
"Carly Snyder!"
"Well, you're not gettin' any anywhere else. I sure wouldn't blame Dusty. And you two go way, way back."
"You don't have to make it sound like the Stone Age," Lily scolded.
"So what exactly did the Red Scourge do? Breath fire? You don't look singed," Carly observed, inspecting her up and down.
"She only got to the huffing stage before I excused myself. The woman is more than a little insecure."
"Tell me something I don't know." Wrinkling her nose, Carly tilted her head. "Can we change the subject? Janet gives me indigestion."
"On top of morning sickness?" Lily sympathized.
"Oh, that's over with. Amazing how fast your energy comes back when you're not upchucking half the day. So much so, I'm thinking of starting the nursery."
"Where are you going to squeeze that in in this old house?"
"I thought I'd convert that little cubbyhole between Sage's room and the guest room."
"Your office?"
"Well, it's not really an office. Jack's never used it. It's mostly just a catch all for stuff," Carly reasoned. "I already have it all sketched out," she blurted, before the question could go further. Lily followed her into the living room, as she quickly sorted through a pile to find her design pad. "I think this is it." Pulling one from the bottom of the stack, Carly started flipping through it.
"That's gorgeous!" Lily exclaimed, halting the stream of pages Carly was buzzing through. "I'd forgotten how talented you are," she mused, admiring the evening dress.
Carly recognized it immediately, it was a rough sketch of the dress she'd planned to wear at Monte Carlo's first showing. The final sketch had burned up with the rest of the line, thanks to Craig. Her throat dried up, and it took her a moment to be able to speak. "Thanks."
"This is nice too," Lily went on, slowly flipping through more outlines. It was obvious Carly still loved to design. "You should start working again."
"Yes, between hockey, ballet and bottles, I'll just whip out my sketch pad and conjure up a spring line," Carly scoffed uncomfortably. Of all the rotten things Craig had ever done, barbecuing all her hard work was number two on the list. Stealing Parker's trust would always be at the top.
"Yours was the first name Dusty brought up."
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thud...thud thud...thud-thud-thud
The sequence repeated twice over before Jack stepped away from the bag, sweat dripping from his brow. Margo shook her head, watching from the balcony of the OPD gym. She had taken him aside a week ago when the schedule came out, asking if he felt comfortable working the anniversary of Brad's death. His answer was a stubborn denial, no special favors needed. Not that she'd expected any less.
Last night when he'd left Jacob's party abruptly, she'd been determined to send Jack home today as soon as reasonably possible. A morning meeting at the Mayor's office had interfered with that plan. Quiet inquires about his mood had assured her things had run capably, if not as smoothly as usually.
"Jack!"
Hearing his name, Jack looked up to see the Chief of Detectives coming toward him. Shrugging off his boxing gloves, he started unwrapping his hands, seeing his lunch period was just about over anyway. "What can I do for you, Margo?" he asked.
"I feel like I should be asking you that."
"No need," Jack replied bluntly. "Quiet morning. Two minor traffic calls. An attempted robbery at the Gas 'N Go on Highway Nine. Still waiting on the warrant in the Treader case."
"Looks like everything's under control-"
"Yeah, it is." The surly tone betrayed his edginess. "I don't need to be checked up on. And don't tell me you didn't have eyes on me this morning. It felt like the entire squad had me under a microscope."
"They know today's a hard day for you."
"I know they mean well," Jack conceded. "But it's like they're waiting for me to snap."
"You could have easily side-stepped the issue and taken the day off."
"I'm barely back from my honeymoon. I won't have people whispering behind my back, wondering if I'm reliable all of the time or just part of it."
"I don't doubt you, Jack. I'm concerned. We're all concerned." Sensing him about to snap out another denial, Margo held a hand up to concede, her point made. "The party was nice. Well, as nice as it could have been with Craig there."
Jack let out an involuntary laugh. "What did he do now?" he asked, eager to leave the subject of today behind. Even if it meant talking about Craig.
"Oh nothing. Just suggested to Katie she should hire a tutor for Jacob."
"Huh? The kid's a year old."
"I think his exact words were..."with Brad's lack of mental acumen, you shouldn't take any chances. Bring a professional in."
Jack shook his head for a moment. "Your brother really is an ass, you know that? I'm surprised Katie didn't lay him out."
"She wanted to. I spent most of my time keeping them in neutral corners."
Tentative chuckles quickly gathered steam, becoming peals of laughter that left him breathless. Looking into Margo's puzzled expression only made the situation worse, bringing tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm not cracking up, I swear," he said between gasps. "I just pictured it-Katie making mincemeat out of Craig, complete with "zing!" "zowhie!" and "blam!" like they did on Batman. The tv series, not the movies."
"I'm old enough to remember, Jack," Margo admitted grudgingly.
"It just struck me as funny."
Margo shook her head. "At least Craig's monumental ego is good for something. It made you laugh today."
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After spending a couple of hours wandering around the mall, JJ ducked into Java, ordering a danish and large hot cocoa. Choosing a seat in the corner, away from the customer traffic, he grabbed a recent issue of Sports Illustrated to page through.
"Well, if it isn't Parker's little brother."
JJ looked up to see Daniel Hughes sneering at him. "Danny." JJ used the shortened nickname he knew Daniel hated. "Why don't you get lost? Or are you?"
"What's it like getting kicked out? I bet Jack is furious with you."
JJ had no doubt that was true. He could sense the uneasiness in the house, which is why he'd taken off this morning before his mother could corner and smother him with support. But he wasn't about to give Daniel the satisfaction. "Bullshit. My dad knows I wouldn't cheat. I don't need to." Furious at the continued sneer on Hughes' face, he added, "and when I prove you set me up, you'll be the one with some explaining to do."
"You crack me up. There's nothing to prove. You saw them search my dorm room. The only thing they found was porn. And within five minutes, Paul was opening his wallet to "donate" a whole new media arts department and smooth over my objectifying women everywhere. Face it, JJ...you got nothing. And you never will. I'm bulletproof.
