The very next day was Saturday, the designated calling day. It would be the first normal Saturday in two weeks, being that the previous week included an important Saturday wedding for which all three of Meghan's family members were in attendance, and the Saturday before had been spent by Meghan at Faye's grandparents' house (the family had gone there for comfort as to the mounting loss of their restaurant), and they didn't have a phone.

Actually, it was really more like the first normal Saturday in three weeks, because the phone call three weeks before this one had gone kind of strangely. For some reason, Meghan's mother, aunt, and cousin had all seemed very uptight. Not that Meghan wasn't uptight herself - after all, she was still trying to soak in her parents' past of English gallivanting. That, and trying to keep Faye - and the rest of her host family, for that matter - from killing themselves.

But the ones in New York seemed to have a particular distress. The phone call had been short, only a quick hello-goodbye, basically, from all three of them. Remembering this, Meghan wondered how this call would be as she talked to the snotty operator.

This time, it was Daphne who picked up.

"Hello, what is this, a call from the UK? Hmm, I wonder who that could be."

Meghan smiled. This was good. Daphne was being her goofy self.

"Daphs! I haven't talked to you in forever!"

"And I, you. What up, Meg?"

"The ceiling. You?"

"The roof. Listen. I'm in the middle of a scrumptious microwave burrito right now. But your mom would like very much to talk to you."

"Oh. Well...okay."

Nothing wrong with that. She wanted to talk to her mom. And besides, Daphne would have that burrito down in no time.

Catherine came on the phone.

"Meghan? That you?"

"Yes, it is. Hello, Mom."

"Hello, Meghan. I cannot tell you how glad I am to talk to you, I've been missing you a lot lately."

Meghan's throat tightened a little. Her mom sounded sad, as well as a bit exhausted at the same time.

"I've missed you too, Mom."

"Little old me. Here in New York missing you while you blossom and shine overseas, adapting perfectly to the ways of what happens to be your birthplace. I'm so proud of you, Meghan."

That was kinda weird.

"Wait, what? You know that Aunt Libby told me?"

"Yes, for a few weeks now, actually." Catherine said, sounding strangely serene. "And I'm so glad it's my beautiful daughter calling me, instead of that vile creature Alistair Payne."

This startled Meghan. Very much.

"Whoa, okay, hold on a minute here. Alistair Payne? How do you know -"

"Oh, me and him had a little chat a few weeks ago. I have to say, he wasn't very nice."

Meghan couldn't believe her ears.

"WHAT?! He called you?!"

"Sure did. But I gave him what for. Which is pretty good, 'cuz your aunt says he's a criminal."

Catherine was still speaking with her weirdly calm demeanor.

"Okay, Mom...you're kinda starting to freak me out."

The woman chuckled. But it was a normal, slightly nervous chuckle. She was bringing herself back to Earth.

"Oh, Meghan, I'm sorry. I've just been in sort of a stupor lately. Dealing with all the crazy, incredible things that are happening."

Alright. What, exactly, was she referring to?"

"What do you mean?"

There was a pause.

"Meghan...your Aunt Libby. She told me a lot of things."

As ideas started to form in Meghan's head as to what this meant, her mind started to go once again into a state of surprise. She processed this things to the best of her ability as she tentatively spoke to her mother.

"Things? Like...like what?"

Meghan heard her mother take in a deep breath.

"Like, about you. And her. And Daphne."

Realization was striking. Realization that those aforementioned ideas were very likely correct.

"What did she tell you, Mom?" Meghan softly breathed, as a tear mounted the edge of her eye, ready to fall.

"Everything."

Libby sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee. She watched as her sister-in-law stood a few feet away, telling her daughter of the complicated events that had gone on roughly three weeks ago. The things that had set in a little in the two weeks since she'd talked to Meghan - but not much.

In a few minutes, she'd be on the phone herself. Talking to the girl who'd been entrusted with the story of her daughter's father, and who'd kept it to herself for so, so long, under the direction of Libby herself.

Catherine didn't seem to blame Libby for anything, however, on account of the fact that she herself had hidden a secret from Meghan for years. Libby listened to the compassionate woman as she relayed to Meghan everything that had now been revealed, thinking back to the day it all had happened.

"Libby, what's going on?"

The blonde's face had gone completely white, and Catherine wanted to know why.

"Nothing's going on."

Libby quickly dropped the cord and moved into the other room.

She knew that from Catherine's perspective, she had probably seemed easy to crack. Catherine was later to find out that Libby had long been contemplating a voluntary confession.

"Obviously, something IS going on, otherwise - why in the world did you do what you just did?"

"What's the big deal?!" Libby had retorted, a little too defensively. "It was just some creep. I just saved you a lot of breath that would've been wasted!"

Catherine had just stood there, arms crossed, warily staring at the woman.

"You know, it's kind of strange." Catherine had placidly stated. "Because even though you never use it, your legal name IS Elizabeth."

Libby never had been one to argue with people. She'd always been more submissive - except, maybe, to her daughter. And after a few minutes, she'd submitted to Catherine. She'd been demanded to tell the truth. She'd been forced to tell her who this 'Alistair Payne' actually was.

"He works for someone I used to know, alright? He's a snake. I just want to forget him."

But this time, Catherine had pressed on. It hadn't been the first time Libby had acted strangely, like this. But Catherine wanted this to be the last.

She'd cornered Libby, knowing for a fact that she was hiding something that needed to be brought out - for the benefit of everyone, including Libby herself. Catherine wasn't Libby's blood, but she knew her well enough to have grown up with her. The two had bonded so well over the last five or so years that Catherine was able to almost read Libby's emotions like a book, and she'd always known when something wasn't right. But she'd let things go.

For too long.

And now, with her daughter gone, with the lingering grief of losing the man she loved, with the stress of that wretched phone call that seemed to throw it all over the edge - all Catherine wanted was the truth.

She'd gotten her wish. She'd gotten it all.

Because all of a sudden, Libby had just broken down, let go, and fell into tears - divulging everything.

"Henry Dashwood."

Catherine had run for a tissue box, but had stopped in her tracks...

"Daphne...it was 1986..."

Catherine had been stunned.

"Alistair...destroyed...everything..."

The brunette had taken to sitting next to Libby on the couch, eyes wide. Tissues quickly gathered up, taking over the living room. And Libby kept going.

"I was there...Aaron knew...I never told you...I left England for good...Daphne came with me...I still...still...love him..."

And from that point, it had all been history. And astonishingly, Catherine had seemed more surprised by these statements then by anything else:

"Meghan knows - I told her, about five years ago. And I...I told her where you and Aaron used to live."

And now, everyone knew. Just as Meghan wanted - there were no more secrets in this household.

But Libby was wondering when some other things would be revealed. Despite her burrito-eating, goofy demeanor, Daphne was anxious, and Libby could see it. Not anxious as in impatient - but anxious as in scared. None of them could tell exactly what was going on in England, or who knew what.

However, it was Meghan they were dealing with. And what Libby had always known was now being proven more than ever before: Meghan was someone that she could trust.

And she would continue to do so.

At the very same time...

"What do you mean you can't revoke her student visa?!"

"Sir, according to what you've told me, and what it says in this girl's record, there is in fact no real evidence demonstrating that it would be necessary to -"

"I want the girl deported!!!" Alistair shouted into the phone.

But this got him nowhere, and within minutes, he'd slammed down the phone in disgust.

This was absurd. How was an ordinary, diminutive, know-nothing teenage American girl resisting every single one of his efforts?! There had to be some way he could trip her up before the ugly truth came out...

Alistair pondered and pondered. And pondered some more.

It was then that Glynnis waltzed in.

"Daddy, dear, I've been having a most dreadful day. It seems that there is absolute no florist in existence that is willing to cover every inch of the reception walls, as well as the chariot, with baby's breath.

"Well, of course not, Glynnis! That would be tacky!" Alistair fumed.

Glynnis stared at him blankly.

"You must be distressed, too." she mused.

'How observant of you. As a matter of fact, I am very distressed. I -"

He'd been about to tell her what was going on. Before he realized that it was not possible.

But wait! Here was an idea!

If he could somehow find proof, some kind of solid proof that Miss Meghan was connected to a certain Miss Elizabeth Reynolds, he himself would have the collateral. The material that would enable him to give the girl an ultimatum: leave, or have this deep, dark secret exposed to the entire world. On international television. Leave, or be made to look like a fool, a girl weaving some twisted lie for her gold-digging mother.

Yes. He would make her a liar. He would make it look as if that woman had set up a HUGE ploy, a ruse - and make Henry believe that Libby was trying to make him think he had a daughter when, in fact, he did NOT.

Once he had that precious proof, he would threaten the little schoolgirl, telling her that if she did not leave the country at once, she would bring disgrace to both the Reynolds and the Dashwoods.

And the Paynes would reap all of the glory.

Fin for now, but be ready next Saturday. The chapters will be here...will you?

-rf-