AN: I apologize for this chapter being rather... wierd and dull. It's mainly here to introduce the Rabes. Although, there are some things in here that actually forshadows events in future chapters.

Also, I seriously would like reviews. I don't usually ask for them, but only two people have reviewed this story so far, even though it's been posted for 15 days, and that makes me sad. But please refrain from any abusive flames. They'll only get you a one-way ticket to my block list. (Thankfully, I haven't had anyone new added to that list in quite a while. I'd like to keep it that way.)

Mark stood by in the La Guardia airport, with Zack and Rodolfo accompanying him. The three of them were waiting for the passengers to get off the plane that the Rabes were arriving in. Emily hadn't been thrilled by the short notice of the arriving house guests, but she had agreed to the arrangement, on account of what having Peter as an investor would mean for Redefining Pictures, and for Mark.

After about ten minutes, the gates opened up, and a line of people began to walk out into the lobby. At the very end of the queue was a self-assured looking man with blonde hair styled with a medium fade cut, dressed in a beige Cashmere polo. Walking behind him was a fifteen-year-old girl with blonde hair growing past her shoulders, wearing an ankle length dress with a magenta sweater cover-up. Looking around, Peter took quick notice of Mark and made his way over.

"I take it you are Mark Cohen?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," Mark confirmed. "Welcome to New York. I hope you had a nice flight."

"As good as public airlines can be," Peter smirked, glancing down at Zack and Rodolfo. "And who are these young men?"

"This is my son, Zack, and my nephew, Rodolfo," Mark explained as the boys waved in turn. "And this is your daughter, Zoey, right?" Mark sent the young girl a polite smile. Zoey lowered her eyes for just a moment before speaking.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cohen," Zoey greeted in a tone that sounded almost rehearsed.

"Now then," Peter spoke up, dropping a hand onto Zoey's shoulder. "How about you lead the way to the baggage claim?"

"Of course, right this way," Mark replied, leading the Rabes down the terminal, with Zack and Rodolfo following close behind. As they made their way to the baggage claim, Mark continued speaking to Peter.

"I hope you understand my apartment wasn't really designed with a guest room," Mark began. "All the bedroom areas are filled by my family, so I hope you won't be too upset with using the sofa bed. Zoey, on the other hand; my two daughters are more then happy to share their room with her while you stay here."

"Are your daughters well behaved?" Peter started to frown, as if fearing they weren't. "I don't want my daughter to be near any bad influences, not that I'm questioning your parenting."

"Oh, no offence taken. Penny and Lucia are wonderful girls. Although, I don't think you'll meet Penny tonight. She and her friends are helping with a bake sale at the community center. But Lucia will definitely be home, helping Emily with preparing dinner."

"And Emily would be your wife, I assume? How's her cooking?"

"Oh, trust me," Rodolfo spoke up. "Aunt Emily's a great cook."

"Ah, very good," Peter nodded in approval. "I like a woman who can cook."

By now, the group had arrived at the baggage claim and stood waiting for the Rabes' luggage to come out. After a while, Peter was able to point out a large, dull brown suitcase and a smaller floral print one. As Peter took a hold of his bag, Zack reached out and took Zoey's. As he did so, he glanced over at her, trying to offer a friendly smile. But in response, Zoey simply looked away with downcast eyes, her face hidden by her hair.

That night, after dinner had been served and eaten, Mark and Peter took their seats in the living room area, where Emily served them slices of the apple pie she'd baked earlier. Over at the metal table, the children were starting on their slices, apart from Zoey, who had silently turned down the offer of pie. For a time, the pie was eaten in silence, until Lucia started to fall asleep halfway through her slice.

"I hope you all will excuse me," Emily spoke as she stood up. "It looks like it's someone's bedtime. Zoey, why don't you come with me? I'll help you get settled upstairs."

"Here, I'll help!" Zack quickly abandoned his pie to carry Zoey's suitcase upstairs, ignoring the look Rodolfo was giving him.

"Rodolfo," Mark glanced over at the young boy as the girls headed upstairs, Zack following close behind with Zoey's suitcase in tow. "Your Aunt Emily's right. It's getting late. Start getting ready for bed, okay?" Rodolfo glanced mournfully at the last few bites of his pie that remained on his plate for a moment before leaving the table. But when Mark looked away, Rodolfo shot out a hand to grab the rest of the pie, stealthy stuffing it into his mouth as he walked to his room, while Wenceslas and Maya disposed of the trail of crumbs he was leaving. Once they were alone, Peter started to speak to Mark.

"Your nephew was right," he noted. "You managed to marry a very good cook. And she even managed to bring up your children quite well. I must know how you ever managed to land someone like that." Mark took a moment to reply, finding himself smiling at the memory.

"It was actually an accident," Mark began after a long pause. "Lucky accident, though. I was trying to come up with a new idea for a movie, and was filming whatever I could while riding my bike along Bowery Street, down in Little Italy. But then, this car pulled out in front of me, and I didn't see it until I had just a few seconds to spare. I swerved to avoid getting hit and my bike wheel got stuck in a sewer grate. I ended up falling on the sidewalk and hit my head. It knocked me out for a while. Almost two hours. When I woke up, I found myself lying in a bed. You see, Emily had been walking up the street and saw me crash my bike. She brought me into her place, and even called a doctor to see if I was all right."

"So, she brought a complete stranger into her home?" Peter started frowning. "You didn't find that… careless?"

"Actually, I've always thought of it as compassionate," Mark explained. "You see, I didn't realize it for a long time, but I think… that was when I first started falling for her."

"Well, to each his own, I suppose," Peter shrugged. "However, if my wife had been able to cook as well as yours, I might have let her get away with murder."

"Oh, you're married, too?" Mark asked.

"Was. She's been gone for a long time," Peter stated.

"I'm sorry," Mark apologized. "I didn't know."

"Water under the bridge, Mark," Peter waved off the sympathy. "She wasn't much of a wife, anyway." Once again, a silence fell over the Condo, which was slightly broken when Zack returned from the upstairs room.

"Night, Dad. Goodnight, Mr. Rabe," Zack waved as he headed off to his bedroom. Once inside his room, Zack immediately noticed Rodolfo peering down at him from his loft bed, an evil grin on his face.

"What's that look for?" Zack scrunched his face in confusion.

"Helping little miss Zoey with her suitcase. At the airport and here," Rodolfo smirked.

"So? It's called being polite, Dolf." Rodolfo, instead of replying, fell back into his bed to lie on his back. But as Zack turned to head into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he heard Rodolfo making teasing kissing noises behind him. "Shut up, Dolf!" Zack cried, doing all he could to fight back the blush that threatened to form on his cheeks.