Maxie hurried through the brisk winter air toward Sonny's—now Jason's coffeehouse. In her hand she carried a grocery bag containing a bottle of orange soda and a large sized bag of barbeque potato chips.

It was, she thought, a sort of reinforcement technique.

She was on a mission now. And had been ever since she'd discovered that photo earlier during her morning cleaning venture. She needed to know what had gone on during Georgie's thirty years of supposedly being dead.

And there was only one person that could help her in a time like this.

Maxie crossed the square and entered the coffeehouse that stood as a front for the mob. The barista stood behind the coffee counter, preparing a mocha for a paying customer. But she bypassed the counter and headed for the door on the opposite wall. Max, Jason's longtime security guard and friend stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait Maxie, you can't go in there," he cautioned, holding up a hand.

She stopped and frowned. "Max, please. It's really important. I need to see my husband."

He sighed and stepped aside. "Fine, but make it quick. You know that Jason doesn't like you being involved in the business."

She smiled now, and leaned up to drop a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks Max, you're a gem." Without waiting for another word, she pushed open the door and strode into the unusually lit office.

Spinelli sat at Jason's desk, his head figuratively buried in the laptop. But Maxie knew that she could use both her own wiles and the temptation of soda and chips to get his attention.

She coughed to get his attention. "Hi Spinelli."

"Maxie, what are you doing here?" he exclaimed, getting up from behind the desk. He walked over to her and kissed her.

She smiled and held out the shopping bag. "I brought these for you."

He peeked inside, smiled slowly, ending in a frown. "Why would you—out of the blue—bring me the spice of life?" But he pulled out the chips and soda, setting them on the table.

She sighed. "Oh I can't get past you, can I?"

"Of course not, I know you better than anyone," Spinelli replied, sitting down and motioning for her to take the opposite chair. When she did, he asked again. "Maxie, not that I don't love you see you, but why exactly are you here?"

"I need you to do some research for me."

He eyed his wife suspiciously. "O-o-okay…what sort of research?"

Maxie threw up her hands exasperatedly. "Spinelli, you are the smartest man I know. And I come to you—my husband—for help and you won't help me?"

"No. I'll help you, but I know you. You always have a plan."

"I need you to find everything you can about Georgie."

Even as he poised his fingers over the keyboard, he looked up at her in surprise. "Georgie? The wise one? Why?"

"Because there is so much that I don't know about her and she won't tell me," Maxie said quickly.

"Do you want to tell me what brought this on?" Spinelli asked quietly. They both knew that he would do the research, but he wanted to make sure that she was ready to know the truth.

Maxie rose and began pacing. She always thought better when she was moving. "I was cleaning the upstairs this morning and I went into the guestroom. There was a photo on the nightstand. It was a picture of a young girl, a dancer, and on the back was as inscription signed by an Amelia. Georgie already told me that she was married and that her husband was murdered. She didn't directly say that she had a daughter but the picture was addressed to mom. It can't be a coincidence. So that is why I need to know the truth."

"Okay." Spinelli turned to the computer and began furiously tapping his fingers over the keyboard. Maxie stopped pacing and stared at her husband.

"Okay? Just like that?"

Spinelli stopped for a brief second, long enough to look up at her. "Yes, okay. I trust you. And you need to know this. But you can't tell your sister that you know. You need to wait until she's ready."

Maxie smiled now. She picked up her jacket and purse. "Thanks Spinelli!" She leaned over to drop a kiss on his lips. "Call me when you have anything. I have to get to work."

And as fast as she had arrived, she was gone. Spinelli looked up to see her go and grinned. How lucky had he been to get Maxie? Chuckling to himself, he looked back at the screen and back through three decades of classified information.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Georgie pulled the borrowed car up into the driveway. Maxie had given her free use of their third car—Fiona's future car. As she shut off the engine and stepped outside, she was startled to see her childhood home. The house looked the same. It was the same color, had the same shrubbery in the yard. Everything was the same.

She wasn't exactly sure why she was here. After all, what could she say to the uncle who'd been kept in the dark for all these years? No, not uncle; Mac was more her father than her biological father had ever been.

Shaking her head, she crossed the pathway toward the front door. As she did, she noticed that the shutters were a different shade of green. So there was some change.

Georgie lifted her hand to knock on the door. She waited for a few moments. Perhaps he wasn't home after all. But then the door swung open and Georgie was stunned to see her uncle, thirty years older than she remembered him, but still as handsome as ever.

"I was wondering when you'd come over." It was said as a statement, not needing as answer. He held the door open wider, allowing her to enter.

She slipped off her coat and set it—along with her purse—on the chair in the foyer. "I was exhausted from being in the hospital."

He nodded and motioned for her to cross into the living room. Part of her was relieved to see the same couch and end tables gracing the wide room. It meant that not everything had changed.

"But you are okay now?" Mac asked, sitting on a chair across from her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little concussion is all. A minor automobile accident can't bring me down," Georgie replied nervously.

"Yes, I'm sure you are stronger than that," Mac mused, briefly wondering what she had dealt with at the WSB.

Georgie closed her eyes momentarily, gathering her wits. "Mac—I don't know why I'm here—or what to say."

Mac sighed. "Well, that makes two of us."

"I'm sorry."

Mac shook his head. "No, Georgie. You did what you had to do."

"But I caused so much pain and agony. To you, Robin and Maxie," she protested.

"You did what you had to do," Mac replied, getting to his feet and crossing the room toward the window. As he looked out at the gray sky, he spoke quietly. "Were you happy with your choice?"

She was momentarily taken aback with his question. No one had ever asked her if she would have chosen the WSB—had she been given the choice in the first place. "I-I was happy with it. At one time I love it, but not so much anymore."

Mac turned and looked at her. "What happened to make to dislike your job?"

"Mac, you don't want to go into this today. Please, it's too difficult for me."

He nodded and cross the room to her. Taking her hand, he looked into her eyes—eyes he'd once believed he'd never see again. "Okay. I won't ask. But I hope that you will tell me one day."

She smiled and nodded, too choked up to answer. "I will, I promise. I love you Mac. I never stopped loving you—even when I couldn't tell you it."

"I know. Same goes here," he replied, placing a gentle kiss on her brow. Georgie stood up.

"I'd better be getting back. I'm sure that Maxie is wondering where I've gone. Thanks for the visit." She walked out of the room and gathered her coat and purse. Slipping the wool coat over her arms, she buttoned it against the wind.

"Please stop by again," Mac said, pulling her close. She breathed in his familiar scent and bit back tears.

Finally she pulled back and opened the door. Moments later, she was sitting in her car and pulling out of the driveway—with tears running down her face. She was happy to see that her uncle hadn't changed that much in the years gone by.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Georgie wove through the trees that lined the long driveway leading to the Quartermaine Mansion. Even though she was exhausted from both her visit with Olivia and Mac, she knew that this stop was necessary.

Georgie stepped out of the car and crossed the shoveled pathway to the front door. It was all so familiar; she was half expecting Alice to answer the door as well. But with time came change. And it was best that she knew that now.

She pushed the doorbell and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally the door swung open and she was surprised to see a short blond girl standing in front of her.

"Oh. Hello…I'm looking for Dillon. Is he around?" Georgie asked, hating she fact that she sounded nervous.

The girl cracked a small smile. "Yes, he is. Do you want to come in?" She held the door open wider for Georgie to enter.

"Thanks." As she stepped in to the foyer, she was surprised and relieved to see that the mansion was still the same.

"Uh, I'll go find my dad," the girl said, racing up the stairs and leaving Georgie standing in the foyer her mouth open in shock. Dillon had a child?

Well, of course he did. She hadn't expected him to just mourn her for the rest of his life. Had she? Georgie supposed that she had never given much thought to what Dillon would do with his life.

Since he had a child, surely he was married. That was something that she couldn't quite swallow. The thought of her high school sweetheart with another woman was a painful idea. And one that she didn't have the time to contemplate because at that very moment, Dillon Quartermaine was descending the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, shoving past her toward the main parlor. She huffed a reply and followed him into the familiar room. He stalked to the bar and poured himself two fingers of the Irish whiskey. It was something that he rarely did, but now seemed like the right time for it.

"I needed to see you. To make you understand," she replied quietly.

"I don't need to understand anything. You left, on your own free will, without saying goodbye," Dillon muttered to himself, but she heard him anyway.

"I didn't have a choice," Georgie replied. "There was no other way possible."

"There's always another option," Dillon refilled his glass and knocked it down his throat, the burn giving him some satisfaction.

Georgie closed her eyes momentarily to gather her wits. She walked to the window and stared out onto the sleeping rose garden.

The she turned around and spoke, "One week before I-I died, I got a phone call from the WSB. They couldn't tell me the details but gave me a business propositions. They offered me a job as an agent but there was a catch." Her voice broke and tears fell silently down her face. "B-but I would have to d-die. I had to make it look like an accident because they wanted Diego Alcazar and I was the key. I would get the chance to be an agent if I left everything and everyone that I knew. At first, I said no. I couldn't just leave my family and friends without a backward glance. But then the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea."

"How can you 'like the idea' of dying to get an interesting career." Dillon spat out the words as if they were a foul-tasting food.

She raised her head and he saw the tears. "You'll never know how much I regretted my decision."

"But you got the career of your dreams," Dillon said.

"Sometimes there's more to life than a career," she replied, gathering her coat and purse. She turned to look at him. "I just wanted you to know the whole story. If you continue to hate me for the rest of my life, I can live with that. I know that I caused you a lot pain. But whatever you do, be grateful. Yes, I did get a dream career, but it cost me more than I ever wanted to give up. You are very lucky to have your daughter. Cherish her." and without another word, Georgie swept out of the room and slipped out the front door, hurrying toward her car. As she was about to open the door and slid in, she heard a voice from behind her.

"Ms. Jones!"

Georgie turned and saw Dillon's blonde daughter racing after her. When the girl caught up to her, Georgie waited while she caught her breath. "Yes?"

Taking a deep breath, Alex said, "Do you know Bree Buchanan? I know that you are a WSB agent and that she's one too."

Georgie smiled, thinking of her friend and protégé. "Yes, I do. How do you know her?"

Alex smiled now. "She's a cousin of sorts. She's my mother's second cousin. I live in Llanview with my mother, which is where she grew up."

Georgie nodded. "I see. I've been to Llanview before. I went to Bree's family's home. Who's your mother?" As she asked the question, Georgie had a quick internal debate as to if she really wanted to know the girl's mother; because if she did know who Alex's mother was, she'd know who Dillon had married.

"My mom's Starr Manning-Thornhart." Georgie grimaced internally. She had seen Starr and had immediately thought her to be a blonde bimbo. Apparently she had some class or Dillon wouldn't have had seen anything in her.

"I think that I met her once," Georgie replied, thinking quickly. "You know if you ever want to know how your dad was like in high school, we should get together and talk."

Alex smiled. "Thank you Ms. Jones!"

As the girl turned toward the Quartermaine mansion, Georgie added, "You're welcome, but please call me Georgie. Ms. Jones makes me feel old."

Alex waved and trotted back to the house. Georgie got in her car and drove away, wondering what exactly had just happened. Fate was an amusing bitch, Georgie thought, she was now friend's with her ex-husband's/high-school boyfriend's daughter. Life seemed to take all sorts of twists and turns.

********