"And if we go down those stairs over there, we'll be in the holding cells. That's where we keep the bad guys that we catch until they can be taken to prison or put on trial." A little boy raised his hand, waving it around frantically. Melody smiled. "Yes, you have a question?"

"Are there any bad guys down there right now?" The ten-year-old's eyes were wide with anticipation.

Melody shook her head. "No, not today. Thankfully, there haven't been too many arrests this week." The secretary stifled a chuckle at the disappointment that settled on Mrs. Barker's fourth grade class. Their teacher, however, looked quite relieved at the news. Another student, a girl this time, raised her hand. "Yes?"

The girl took a deep breath. "Um, are you a cop?"

"Of course not!" one of her classmates interrupted. "Girls can't be cops!"

"Actually," Melody interjected, regaining the kids' attention, "I'm not a police officer. Just a secretary. But women can be cops. We have a lot of female officers here. In fact, Santa Barbara's chief of police is a woman, and so is one of our top detectives."

A murmur of excitement passed through the group. "Do they have guns?" the girl squeaked.

Melody laughed. "Yes, they have guns. And Detective O'Hara is a very, very good shot." She glanced in the direction of Juliet's desk and noticed, just past it, Carlton was sitting at his desk and watching the field trip in progress. She caught his eye and he smiled warmly. "Hey kids, do you want to meet one of our detectives?" Suddenly his smile vanished, replaced by a look of minor panic. Melody just smiled innocently as the children reacted with elation. "Detective Lassiter?" she called out. "Can I borrow you for a minute?"

Carlton glared at his girlfriend for a moment, then crumbled under the power of her puppy-dog eyes. He rose from his desk and walked over to the group of students, feeling as if he were going to his doom. "Kids, this is Detective Lassiter," Melody narrated as Carlton forced his features into not-quite a smile. Can't let the rug-rats think I'm soft. "He's the head detective here in Santa Barbara. Do you guys have any questions for him?"

One boy raised his hand. Carlton took one look at him and pegged him for a future repeat-offender. "Do you have a gun?"

"Of course I have a gun," Carlton scoffed. At a warning look from Melody, he softened his tone. "I'm a detective, and I'm on duty. It's part of my uniform."

"Can we see it?"

Carlton hesitated and glanced over at Mrs. Barker, who shrugged in a "what-can-you-do" kind of way. The woman was probably in her late-fifties and everything about her appearance suggested that she'd rather be retired and far, far away from her students. "I don't see why not," he conceded, secretly thrilled at the chance to impress the kids. He pulled his Glock out of its holster to gasps and squeals, then slowly turned the gun over in his hands so the children could see.

"Do you get to shoot people all the time?" This from a different boy.

"Just because you get to carry a gun doesn't mean you can shoot people," Carlton evaded as he replaced the gun in its holster. "Police officers have a huge responsibility, and we don't just discharge our weapons whenever we want to." This was mostly true; since he started dating Melody, instances of Carlton firing his weapon had decreased considerably.

The little girl that had asked about Melody being a cop raised her hand again. "Do you know the girl detective?"

Carlton allowed himself a slight smile. "Yes, Detective O'Hara is my partner."

"Is she pretty?"

This startled Carlton. "Um, well, yes, I suppose, but I don't really..." he replied, shooting a look to Melody. The secretary bit her lip to hold back a grin; it was nice to see Carlton squirm sometimes.

"Are you in love with her?" The girl's eyes were wide, earnest curiosity on her face.

"No, I'm in love with someone else," came the automatic reply. Carlton heard a slight intake of breath from Melody just before his own words registered inside his head. He felt his face begin to turn bright red but kept his eyes trained on the kids.

"Is she pretty?"

"Ok, I think that's enough questions for now," Melody interrupted, clearly flustered. "Say thank you to Detective Lassiter." The children chorused their thanks and followed the receptionist down the hall to the entrance of the station, leaving Carlton to rehash the last ten seconds over and over on the television monitor in his brain. Talk about word vomit. It wasn't that he hadn't meant what he'd said. In fact, the exact opposite was true; he did mean it, which was why it had been a knee-jerk response. It was just that... well, it wasn't exactly the way he'd envisioned himself telling Melody how he felt. He had been planning a romantic evening, maybe on the beach, maybe naming a star after her... Well, that was a little much, but the sentiment was there.

Announcing his feelings unthinkingly to twenty ten-year-olds and a menopausal fourth grade teacher was not particularly romantic by any stretch of the imagination.

Judging by Melody's reaction, said announcement may not only have been unromantic, but unwelcome as well.

The dejected detective returned to his desk, hoping fervently for a murder or kidnapping; anything to brighten his day.

...

Melody propped her chin up on her hands, resting her elbows on the table. "Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice. I know it's your day off..."

"Not a problem," Jules assured her friend, shrugging out of her jacket and draping it on the back of her chair. "We were about due for lunch anyway. Is everything alright?" Melody's voice when she had called the detective had sounded rather panicked. Juliet had rushed to meet the woman at their favorite restaurant, abandoning her riveting game of solitaire.

"Yeah, I think. I mean... I don't know." The receptionist ran an agitated hand through her hair. She fidgeted in her seat for a few moments, aware of Juliet's penetrating gaze, before blurting out, "Carlton's in love with me."

"Oh!" Whatever Jules had been expecting, this was not it. "Is that... bad?"

"No! Well, I don't know." Melody reached out and picked up the saltshaker, turning it over in her hands absently. "I mean, we've only been dating for two months now. A lot of people would say that we're kind of rushing into things."

"Do you think you're rushing?"

The question took Melody by surprise. "No," she replied slowly. "I don't think so. I mean, the day we met I just felt like... nothing I'd ever felt before. It's all just felt so right, the whole way we've been handling everything."

Jules shrugged. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't know." The woman took a few moments to straighten out her thoughts. "Up until now, everything's been really low-pressure. I mean, yeah, when we decided to be 'official' or whatever, we kind of told each other that we thought we could fall in love, but..." Melody sighed. "I guess I wasn't ready for it to happen so soon. And then he just up and tells me..."

"How did he tell you, if you don't mind me asking?" Juliet's eyes were alight with curiosity.

Melody laughed in spite of herself. "You know how today was the elementary field trip to the station?" The detective nodded. "Well, long story short, one of the students asked him if he was in love with you, and he said no, that he was in love with someone else." She paused. "I'm assuming he meant me."

Jules bit her lip. "Oh, poor Carlton! That's really... not romantic. At all."

For the first time since the incident, Melody allowed herself to see the humor of the situation. "To be fair, I don't think he intended to tell me yet. And definitely not like that. The question just took him by surprise."

Juliet nodded sympathetically and the pair lapsed into silence. Finally, the detective spoke. "So I guess the question is, are you in love with him?"

...

When Melody returned to the station, Detective Lassiter was gone. He remained gone all afternoon and into the evening, until it was time for Melody to go home. She assured herself that he was just out working on a case, but she couldn't make the nagging guilt at the back of her mind go away. She left work slightly subdued and not knowing whether to hope that Carlton would be home soon so they could talk or that he would be tied up all evening so she could have time to figure out what to say.

She opened up a can of soup and began to heat it up in a pan on the stove, growing more and more despondent, when her cell phone rang. Melody rapidly dug it out of her pocket and her heart leapt up into her throat, then fell back down again when she didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

"Hi Melody, this is Hank Schiller."

"Dr. Schiller! Hi!" The woman felt a bubble of mild surprise and pleasure begin to form. Hank Schiller was one of the professors of psychology she'd studied under as an undergrad, and had corresponded with him during her stint as a grad student; he had been instrumental in persuading Melody to pursue a PhD. "How are you?"

"I'm quite well, thank you. Your mother mentioned that you're living in Santa Barbara right now; are you enjoying yourself?" Melody stifled a laugh; Dr. Schiller was also nursing a crush for her mother, who was completely oblivious to the man's intentions and thought they were just good friends who happened to e-mail daily.

"Yes, I've been here for a few months now and I love it." She reached out and turned the temperature down on the burner that was heating her soup, then stirred the liquid slowly. "Dr. Schiller, no offense, but I think you've called me a total of three times, and none of those calls were just to check up on me. Is everything alright?"

"Your mother said you're working as a secretary. Is that correct?"

Melody blushed at the derision in his voice and ducked her head. "Well, yes. I'm working for the Santa Barbara Police Department as their receptionist." There was a long disapproving silence on the other end of the phone. "It's not a bad job. I like it there," she defended lamely.

"Yes, and I'm certain that selling ice cream to small children out of a van is not a bad job either, but that is not a job that a brilliant woman with a PhD should be working either, no matter how desperate she is for income."

"But I'm using it to gain field experience," Melody wheedled. "I work very closely with the officers at the station, and that can only help me in the future if I get instated somewhere as a permanent department psychiatrist." She lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips to taste; not warm enough.

"Or you could get a real job as a real psychiatrist and get real experience that you could apply later to a criminal justice setting if you so desired," Schiller retorted. "And that's why I'm calling."

Melody dropped the spoon in shock. "What?"

"One of the doctors at my office is retiring. I have an office to let, and I want you to have it." The pleasure in his voice was evident, even over the phone. "We need a new doctor, preferably young and able to relate to teens. You're my first pick. If you want the job, it's yours."

"Oh my god." Melody shook her head. "Oh my god!" She held the phone away from her mouth to keep from laughing loudly into Dr. Schiller's ear. "This is incredible! You're serious? Oh my god!" She felt like dancing, singing at the top of her lungs. A real job! As a real psychiatrist! Wait till I tell Carlton...

The thought stopped her dead in her tracks. Carlton. Santa Barbara. Schiller's practice wasn't in California. "Um. Dr. Schiller. I would have to move to Phoenix, correct?"

The man chuckled. "If you want to work in my office, yes."

Melody felt her excitement fade rapidly into anxiety. "This is an incredible opportunity, and I'm flattered. But... could I have a little time to think about it? I've just got settled here, and I have a few things I need to work out." That was putting it lightly.

"Of course, Melody. I know it's a big decision to make. Take as much time as you need." Schiller paused. "Well, within reason. I'd like to have the position filled within a month, if that's not too much pressure."

"No, that's fine," Melody replied, even as panic began to rise. "I can decide within a month." She paused, took a deep breath. "Thank you so much, Dr. Schiller. It means a lot that you want me to work with you."

"Melody, if you don't mind me saying so, you're the best student I ever had. It would be fantastic to be able to work with you. Just give me a call when you know either way."

"Will do."

"Have a great evening, Melody."

"You too, Dr. Schiller."

The woman ended the call and stood staring at her cell phone for a few interminable moments. A job. A real job, working as a real psychiatrist with real patients! And she would be working with her favorite professor, her mentor. What more could she ask for? Could she afford to be picky about the location right now? It was a dream job, and it was hers if she wanted it.

Melody's gaze fell on a picture of Carlton stuck to her refrigerator. Juliet's voice echoed through her head. So I guess the question is, are you in love with him?