Happy belated St. Patty's day, early Good Friday and Easter, spring break, first days of spring, and all other manner of holidays and merriment you may be enjoying this time of year!
And now, just another day in PV...
####
Joker's wild.
Opal's brainchild, of course. She had even dressed the part.
Ironically, the new rule hadn't benefited the bigshot business moguls at the table. Ruth had gathered a rather nice royal court, though. In fact, she gamely laid down a few more 'chips' as Opal raised an eyebrow and pushed her own 'chips' forward.
One of their two male players also slid a bountiful bundle to the table's middle.
With Joe's addition to the weekly game, Stuart now had a partner–in-crime, though. Ruth leaned back and challenged her husband with a small grin. His eyebrows furrowed before he shook his head and dropped his small stash into the pile.
Marian, who still hadn't quite mastered the difference between a full house and a full glass of wine, did the same.
All in.
In this room - this house - major moves and deals were doled out not in gold or green, but in cookies and cream. The stakes were just as high, though.
This place was their take-away. Their no-fly zone, where fancy weaponry was left to the 'experts.'
When circumstances were at their darkest for Ruth, her faithful trio had been ready with a plate of Oreos and a collection of smiles.
A half hour later, Ruth offered the sole remaining Oreo to her grateful friend as they washed dishes.
"You know, I think we shouldn't be so fooled by those pinchable cheeks of Stuart's. I'm suspecting he might've -"
"Cheated?" Ruth gave a knowing grin at Opal's surprised expression. "I know."
Folks in this town really shouldn't assume that she was the pushover fifties sitcom matriarch prototype. For example, that rather interestig whisper-fest between Opal, Stuart, and Marian a few minutes ago hadn't gone unnoticed. "What were the three of your over there conspiring about?" She gamely caught Opal's slipping dish. "You're not planning on a hostile takeover, are you, now?"
Opal only shrugged. "Maybe."
Ruth just leaned in, winked, and whispered, "Honestly, I think that company might be the better for it."
Opal studied her for a moment before pairing an ever-widening grin with a nod, and their talk was soon consumed with their most chaotic long-term project: the co-parenting of one Thaddeus Martin.
After they fell into a comfortable silence of dish-drying, Ruth's attention lingered on her husband, who was still engaged in light conversation with Stuart. The past year had taught her to count every blessing, and she wanted nothing more than to count each one with Joe.
If only he'd let her...if only they could find the magic again.
Shaking away her thoughts, she put the last dish in the cupboard. "I was thinking, maybe you, I, and Marian should -"
Frowning, Ruth turned to her cleaning companion, somewhat shamed by the fact that she had only now noticed the prolonged absence of their other guest. "Where is Marian?"
####
The coffee had to be the liquid version of sandpaper. At least one stereotype had been given its due diligence in this place. The requisite stale box of doughnuts was persona non grata, however. She settled for the taste of the iron ball that had settled in her throat.
They'd spent the ride over in silence, save two exchanges.
The first came when she had asked Greenlee about the call.
"Oh, God," her friend had mock-gasped. "They must've found out about that time you and I did our own form of bridal brawling. That's why I had to bring you along, so they could get two for the price of one with locking us up." With a smile and a wink, she had expertly Greenlee'd the situation. Commanded it.
Kendall, however, hadn't been so commanded. "Do you think we should call Ryan?"
"I can't. I don't know where he is."
She'd said it matter-of-factly, and maybe it was just that now: an everyday fact that Greenlee didn't know the whereabouts of her fiance, and vice versa. For once, Kendall had vowed to stay out of Greenlee and Ryan's latest relationship drama. She had learned the hard way that two people had to stand together, or fall apart, on their own.
Maybe this was the fall-apart.
But with that last exchange, the ball had begun to take form. When Greenlee had turned on the radio to some cowboy crooning about his lost hat, lost beer, and lost lady, it grew. And now - as she sat down in a hard plastic chair beside her best friend at the police station - it had reached critical mass.
Kendall had to remind herself that this wasn't a waiting room at the hospital. They weren't nail-biting over some looming test result or lasering the door waiting for the surgeon to make his declaration. They weren't –
Damn it, this place still needed some freaking magazines teeming with big-haired models or titillating gossip about the latest celebrity split. They needed fodder.
That's when she got her first glance at the wrinkled brochure touting the benefits of local law enforcement. Okay, she could work with this.
They spent the next several minutes partaking in the time-honored tradition of poking relentless fun at bad eighties hairstyles….only topped by the ultimate ode to fashion disasters: the shoulder pad.
Greenlee's smile this time had less of a desperate glint. More of a spark. Kendall quietly replaced the brochure her friend was holding with a warm hand and squeezed. They waited in the easiest silence either could manage.
Together.
####
No gasps. No faints. Not even a "damn you!"
Just a...
"Bianca, I—"
Cold shoulder.
Leo softly clasped his brother's shoulder, halting his stumbling attempt at an apology. "You think you can give us a few minutes alone, David?"
Sighing, his brother gave one last glance toward the corner, nodded, and left.
With his own sigh, Leo turned to the girl who had turned away from him, from everything.
The ultimate cold shoulder.
His eyes were compelled to the chair - to the the too-real symbol of a an ever-accumulating collection of tragedies.
Slowly, he approached this girl that really could have used, if nothing else, her best friend.
Except that best friend had only been, up until a few moments ago, another feature in the collection.
I'm so sorry.
"Come on, I don't look that bad now, do I?" Over ten years, and the best he could manage was a bad joke. "I mean, I know David's got this reputation for being a Frankenstein, but….no bolts in the neck or square heads...that I know of, anyway."
He waited for a question, a demand, an affirmation of his bastardhood, or even a few tire marks on his chest.
While he was debating whether or not he should kneel down, touch her shoulder (he had this twisted image of twirling her around and seeing a blazing skull straight from some horror movie, or, worse yet, seeing nothing), he got his response.
Just not the one he was expecting.
"It's a myth."
He looked down, as if he himself might vanish into a plume of smoke. "What?"
"Frankenstein's monster," she said. "No bolts. No flat head. Just cinematic effects. He wasn't ugly, except to those who didn't understand. He wasn't brainless. He could read Shakespeare. And he wasn't born a monster." She stopped for a moment. "Life just made him that way."
Of all the ways he could have pictured this going, he had to admit the impromptu lit lesson was a surprise. It was crazy, and it shouldn't have made sense.
Then again, neither should their friendship.
But it did.
And it did.
Always.
He grinned, something else he hadn't been expecting, but something he savored. "Thanks for letting me know there's hope for me yet."
"How so?"
No decisions now. No choice. His hand just found her shoulder. "Because the stuff up here's a sonofabitch to change. Life, though, that's doable. Just gotta make it better,"
She didn't pull away, or flinch.
"You're not my first reunion in the past day, you know. I saw Greenlee earlier. And she kinda caught me."
"And you're still alive?"
That brought a chuckle. "Yeah, I think she might've softened in her….wiser years. But I think maybe she understands." He grew serious. "I stayed away…I stayed away because –"
"You thought it was for the best."
God, hearing it like that, it sounded so pat, so cliché, so everything he had vowed he'd never be.
"I'm just gonna spare you the speech, Leo."
And he was thankful for that, even as he realized just how much the past ten had changed that girl he knew. Even as he realized that despite those changes - despite the very different woman he was touching for the first time in those ten years - some things would never change.
"It wasn't worth it," he said to her. To himself. "Giving up my life -" With force, he swallowed back the stinging moisture. "- giving up who I am, I gave up on myself. And, in the process, I gave up on everybody who needed me here."
"You did what you had to do, to survive. To make it."
She was so still, and her words so damn controlled, yet she was running like hell. He squeezed her shoulder gently, because he wasn't going to let her. Not anymore.
"No, I only thought it was preservation. In the stone-cold, no-holds-barred reality, it was really the opposite. I was committing the world's slowest suicide."
Neither of them was going to run again.
No skulls. No sneers or snarls. No flaming eyes ready to shoot fiery lasers. Just a pair of wide, brimming eyes. And trembling lips balanced somewhere between a soaring heart and a breaking heart. For just a moment, the scales tipped in his favor.
Smiling back, Leo hugged his best friend.
Some things would never change.
####
His dinner guest folded the napkin across his lap, took one sip of coffee, and straightened his jacket. Not for the first time, Caleb wondered what crazy twist of fate – or ornery old jokester – had put him here. Sitting at a table with nice, orderly menus and being served by pimply-faced kids that put on their best BS-smile for a couple of extra bucks. Actually using the words "dinner guest."Granted, he'd rather be kicking back a few at the local dive, but once he'd discovered his amigo over there could actually drink him under the table, he'd opted for a safer meeting ground.
Looking at the clenched jaw currently whitening the face of the man across from him, Caleb had a feeling the lack of liquid sledehammers was either the best idea he'd had in a while, or the worst. He turned to the object – or rather objects – of sudden scrutiny at the other end of the dining room.
It would seem that cousin of his was finally working up a little courage. He should have probably turned back around and given the kids their moment, but he wasn't gonna stand for either of them getting hurt. If he detected even the slightest flinch from that girl then, cousin or not, Petey-boy wouldn't have to worry about answering to anyone else. He'd get a –
When the slight but unmistakable smile broke out on Lily's face, the muscles in Caleb's legs relaxed in turn. When the girl's other hand settled over Pete's, Caleb blew out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.
With a smirk and a head shake, he reached back and grabbed the arm of his companion. That tense arm was already on the ascent.
"Easy, now." He turned back to an expression he'd seen twice before. Once, right before the owner of said expression had handed over a briefcase, swung his stool to the braying jackass on the next barstool, and simultaneously swung a fist that had sent the latter crashing to the peanut-littered floor.
The other time Caleb had had witnessed this particular expression: when he realized he might've just underestimated his opponent in the battle for a certain infuriating woman's affections.
"She's okay," he offered. "You got to see that for yourself. And he's a good kid, who happens to be crazy about your daughter. But he's a good kid. A respectful kid."
"He's a Cortlandt."
"And so am I."
"Am I supposed to take that as a ringing endorsement?"
Caleb let the smirk he'd been stifling take full reign. And, quite in spite of himself, so did his friend.
Not drinking buddy. Not cordial enemy. Not club members in the thriving 'I survived Erica Kane' coalition. Not colleague with mutual interests. Caleb had always prided himself on calling it as it was, and that's what he had to do now.
Somehow, maybe in some crazy parallel universe they weren't aware of yet, Jackson Montgomery had become his friend.
And if the man studied his legal briefs with the same enthusiasm he was currently showing to his drink, he should have a happy clientele.
"She's - her whole life's going to be a learning process. The world's longest job interview. And she's been hurt before by somebody who was just trying to be 'good' and 'respectful.'"
Caleb scratched the itch that hadn't claimed his nose. He could put together a case in the courtroom, but when it came to the messy, everyday, "people" stuff – not so much. He hadn't spent twenty years hanging out with the bears for nothing. In fact, this had already been one of the longest conversations he'd had with Jack.
"You said her life is a learning process. That's true for everybody, though. Some of us may have a helluva lot longer learning curve, and, believe me, I can understand that. Can't do much learning though if we don't take the chance, though. Living is learning, and the best gift you can give that girl is the chance to live."
Jack raised an eyebrow,
"Just a thought, anyway," Caleb grumbled, wishing like hell he could duck into a bathroom right about now. No more playing armchair Yoda.
"I'll take that under advisement." Jack had put on his lawyer's voice, but Caleb could almost detect a 'thank you' underneath.
But the beautiful thing was, that would be the end of it. They could go back to talking about the Phillies or that new clunker on the lot down the street or the official reason for their latest get-together: his consultation on Liza Colby's case.
"Speaking of children, have your heard from your -"
"No." Or maybe not.
Damnit, Jack wasn't playing by the 'menfolk' rules. And, it appeared. he only wanted to continue throwing out the rulebook.
"I just thought that since -"
"The only difference between now and the last time you asked was that it's been six months instead of three. Six months since my – since he's said a word to me."
At least Caleb could take cold comfort in one thing. If the boy's reception to him had been cold, it had been downright frigid to that snake Chandler. Soon enough, Adam would wish –
Change of subject, right now. "I have been meaning to ask you something."
Jack nodded., but Caleb detected a slight hesitation in that nod.
"Is Erica being back in town going to be a problem?"
It wasn't that he was worried - well, mostly not worried – but Jack needed to take the heat of the microscope for a bit. He was genuinely sorry about Dorothy's condition, but he knew from firsthand experience just what a force of nature that lady was. Another thing he knew from firsthand experience: the unmistakable draw between that lady and his cousin's husband.
They spent a few seconds engaging in a staredown at the OK corral.
She's fine. She's going to be fine. I know it.
She's still my friend. I'm going to be there for her.
I love my wife.
None of the thoughts were spoken. Yet in the time-honored tradition of men the world over, each proclamation found its outlet, boiled down to one simple word: "No."
Caleb's grunt did his talking.
You'd better be telling the truth. You can ask Adam Chandler what happens when you hurt my family.
When he watched Pete disappear into the bathroom, phone in hand, those words echoed.
####
He can't know. But what if? –
Pine Valley's reigning police chief did not give her a chance to devise an imaginative answer for that question.
She'd hoped his face would've had that professional mask, that it wouldn't match the slight hitch in his voice when he had called her..
She had hoped that the mask wouldn't look so damn patched-on….and in danger of falling to the floor at any moment.
"Greenlee," Jesse nodded to Kendall. "Can we talk alone?"
A greeting and a dismissal, all in one. She reclaimed Kendall's hand. Hell, no.
Whatever this was, She was gonna have back-up. The best.
Jesse just nodded again. "OK, but can we at least –"
The swirl of activity surrounding her that she'd done her best to ignore – to white-noise – seemed to congeal in a thick molasses now…one that was bearing down more with each second.
"Just say what you need to say, Jesse." With each word, the fingers entwined in her own tightened a little more.
"Greenlee, we – I – identified a body earlier today." His neck muscles tensed. He had wanted to look away. She knew the feeling. "When is the last time you spoke to Ryan?"
So Ryan was working on a case for a client, and he stumbled onto a crime scene. Maybe even witnessed it. She moved toward the door she knew a little too well - to the interrogation room - but the grip on her hand tightened. She jerked away from the grip, annoyed. Why was Kendall trying to hold her back? "Is he in there now? He's making a statement, right?"
She was sorry. Sorry that she had ever doubted him. Sorry that -
"Greenlee –"
Why wouldn't he stop it with that damn voice? "Just let me see him, okay? Why'd you call me if I couldn't see him?"
And damnit, if Kendall didn't let her go now, she was going to give them a reason to put her in the interrogation room.
"Greenlee, we found Ryan at an abandoned warehouse." The small gasp from behind sent a jolt up her back. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what?" Now...now they were doing it to her. Making her sound...unsure. Scared. One thing she sure as hell wasn't. "You found him and you brought him back here so he could make a statement."
Now he was giving her that look, that damn look she'd seen too many times to count in the past year. And he wouldn't – he wouldn't –
No.
"Let me go, Kendall!" She wrenched her arm away and grabbed the phone, jerking it nearly from its cord. Jesse made a concurrent grab for it. "You get one phone call in this place, right? At least the criminals do, so -"
Something took hold of her, and try as she might, she was whirled around again – her focus forced on a different face. …one full of –
No, no, no.
"Kendall,' come on, don't you get it?" The phone rattled in her hand. She tried in vain to steady it. " I'm going to call David. He can fix this. I know he hates Ryan, but the two of us….he'll –"
"Greenlee." Jesse was one thing, but this face, this voice...she couldn't take. She wanted to cover her ears and stomp her feet and sing the national anthem. This time, her inner diva wouldn't cooperate.
" He's gone, honey."
She just wouldn't look in those eyes anymore. Those wounded eyes that were reaching out. Wouldn't let them try to make her believe things that weren't true. She'd never do that again.
Never.
So she turned to reason. To logic. To…
No!
"No, Jesse." Her head ached with each vigorous shake. "You should know better than anybody. And Ryan's done this before . He came back, just like you. Just like -"
His hands lifted to her, then fell. Good, good, because he sure as hell wasn't going to give her the comforft pat.
"Greenlee, I was the one who found him. The -" He stopped, and his eyes were searching for something, too.
He did know better than anybody.
"The odor helped me find him." Each word – each jab – was soft. Punctuated. "Nothing could be done for him."
And with each one, her legs grew more traitorous.
Two pair of hands from behind stopped her fall.
Her collapse.
"I can't…"
"Shh, I know. I know." Whispered, broken words.
But Kendall didn't know.
She didn't know that sorror, or even shock, were not what overwhelmed Greenlee now. Only crushing...guilt.
She didn't know that Greenlee's first thought after the call had been about someone else.
She didn't know that Greenlee could, in fact, do this again. She knew the manual by heart.
The one thing, the one tiny little thing, that Greenlee could not do was cry.
####
He looked back to the door he'd just exited and seriously considered the merits of standing guard over a slumbering woman who'd soon awaken ready for another round of 'keep the secret.'
Given the alternative waiting behind door number two, that might actually be the more attractive option.
He indulged in just a crack, to assess his chances of safety.
"I always thought you and Maggie –"
"We did. That …didn't work out so well either."
He braved another inch, and was greeted by an old yet very familiar sight. His brother sitting beside his best friend, chatting as if the rest of the world hadn't fallen in on itself.
Just when he was thinking that maybe he should be grateful for small miracles, a pair of eyes pinned him to his exposed spot just inside the door.
Bianca adjusted her chair, pushing away slightly from the open file cabinet.
For Leo's part, he simply smiled and motioned to David. "Come on, bro. You've gotta get your hands dirty, too. We've got a lot of work to do." As he looked to Bianco, the smile broke into a boyish grin. "But at least now we've got backup."
The coil in David's stomach unfurled, just a fraction. Just enough.
"The best," he agreed, stepping inside.
####
"Where's Marian?"
"She must've….well, she must be in the ladies' room."
His friend still hadn't learned the art of the poker face, but Joe figured that he would let Stuart off the hook this night. He shuffled the cards absently. "I've got to confess something, Stuart. We all had our doubts about you and Marian in the beginning, but I'm glad to say we were wrong." He smiled when Stuart's face lit up. It was too rare a sight these days, and he missed it. "You two…you've made the fairy tale real."
"You just never expected the fairy tale to include the evil witch getting a happily ever after."
Joe fumbled the cards at the startling – and astute – observation.
"It's okay, Joe. I know what everyone thought about us…about her. And some people probably still do. They wonder what I'm doing with someone like her, and just as many probably wonder how she ended up with a simpleton like me." Stuart help up a hand before he could protest.
In some ways, Joe had woken up to a whole new world. Or, at least, the same world..with a slightly different perspective.
"But you're right," Stuart continued. "The people who matter know the truth, and they support us." And then, just like that, that beaming smile Pine Valley knew so well flared up. "And I'll cherish every last bit of this fairy tale, happily ever after or not."
"I just wish…" Joe's gaze glided over to the amazing woman washing dishes. Such a simple thing, such a familiar thing. Soft hands now covered with fine lines, but everyday….everyday, he still wanted to take those hands and bring them to his lips. But if Stuart and Marian were the topsy-turvy fairy tale, he and Ruth were the reliable, comfortable matriarch and patriarch template. "I just wish for one day I could make her weak in the knees again." Since he'd awakened, they'd both been wrapped in a cocoon of overcompensation and stifling safety.
Stuart's grin was now overtaking his face and that tell-tale twinkle had returned to his eye. Without warning, he took Joe's arm and rose. From the corner of his eye, Joe saw the same scenario playing out between his wife and Opal.
"Stuart, what are you doing?"
"Just looking for Marian," he said, pushing Joe along, towards the the dining room.
Within moments, he was standing side-by-side with an equally astounded Ruth, as both gaped at the new dining arrangements courtesy of one "dahling" maître d'.
Wine glasses sparkled in place of cards. Oreos wee usurped by one single, aromatic candle.
An amused whisper found its way into his ear: "Make her weak in the knees."
Then, footsteps quickly retreated, and they were alone.
Joe turned to his wife and held out his hand.
Joker's wild: the best of the night.
The best of the year.