October 1991 – 4th birthday approaching

"So, a stór, you've a big birthday only a couple weeks from now, hmmm?" Remington asked his first born and middle child, peering at her in the rearview mirror as he drove the girls and him home from Saturday morning errands.

"I'm going to be four, like Sophie!" she confirmed, with a wide smile.

"That you are," he concurred. "Have you any idea who you'd like to invite to your party?" Her blue eyes lit up and she nodded her head enthusiastically.

"Snow White!" she called out, then thought to add, "And Sleeping Beauty for Sophie, too!" He frowned and rubbed at his chin.

"I was speaking of friends from school, Livvie Bee," he clarified. "Any idea who—"

"Our friends like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, too!" Livvie proclaimed, then turned to her sister. "Don't they, Sophie?"

"Uh-huh," Sophie agreed. "And Ariel, too!" He searched his memory and came up blank.

"Ariel?" he wondered aloud.

"She has red hair like Aunt Frances did," Sophie supplied her father.

He laughed warmly at the memory.

Frances had called Laura positively hysterical, vowing she could never leave the house again after a new hairdresser had bodged her hair. While he'd been unable to hear precisely what was said, that he could hear Frances' voice at all, where he lay on the couch across the bedroom watching the evening news, spoke to the woman's mental state. Once Laura had hung up the phone, she'd taken up residence at the opposite end of the couch. Out of habit, he reached for her foot.

"Dare I ask?"

"Bad dye job."

"Surely it can't be as bad as all that," he reasoned.

"From what I understand, she asked for Rita Hayworth hair and ended up with Ronald McDonald's." They'd both laughed disbelievingly, before turning the conversation in another direction.

Three days later when the Pipers had arrived for their bi-weekly family lunch they'd discovered, in a truly rare occurrence, Frances hadn't exaggerated at all and Laura's 'Oh, my…' had been greeted with a flood of tears. He chuckled now, remembering it.

"…right, Da?" Coming back to the present, Remington gave a shake of his head, then reviewed the conversation they'd been having prior to him drifting off.

"Yes, yes, Ariel," he agreed.

"And Snow White and Sleeping Beauty." This from Sophia.

"Of course. A trio of princesses."

"And the castle," Livvie added.

"The castle, of course." Castle?

"Can we tell Michaela, Whitney, and Elizabeth, Da?" Livvie asked.

"And Vanessa," Sophie interjected. Livvie's eyes widened, having forgotten.

"And Vanessa!" Olivia seconded. "Can we?"

"Tell them about your party? I don't see why not," he agreed. In the back seat the girls squealed with delight.

"Can we weared princess dresses?" Livvie pleaded.

"'Can we wear,'" he corrected. "Again, I don't see why not." Another peal of happiness came from the back seat, along with excited clapping from Livvie.

"We get to dress up, Sophie!"

"And have princesses and a castle!" Sophie added.

"It'll be the bestest birthday ever!" Livvie declared.

In the front seat, Remington did a double take, having realized he'd missed something of vital importance. He hit the brakes a little harder than he meant to at the security gate at the end of their drive. The Explorer lurched to his stop as he looked at Livvie in the rearview mirror.

"Uh, a stór, I don't recall agreeing to princesses and castles," he corrected, "And you know Mommy—"

"Uh-huh," she interrupted. "You said a tree of princesses." Trio, he mentally corrected, cringing when he saw Livvie's eyes welling up.

"And a castle," Sophie added, crestfallen. Awwww, he inwardly groaned. Laura was going to have his head for this, unless he found a way around it.

"I guess I did," he conceded. "But let's keep it between the three of us, until I can speak to Mommy, hmmmm?" Should I live to tell the tale, afterwards.

"Like a secret?" Livvie asked.

"Yes, precisely like that," he confirmed.

Then with dread, he punched the code into the key pad and watched the gate on the drive roll open.

Dead man, driving. He needed to come up with a solution, and fast.

After lunch, as Laura stood at the sink washing dishes, and Remington dried then put them away…

"Uh, Laura," he began, "You've always been a woman who believes in redemption, that people can learn from prior mistakes." The hand running the cloth over a dish stilled for a split second, then resumed.

"That's right," she cautiously agreed, drawing out the words.

"I've had three years to consider my… over exuberance… whilst planning Livvie's first birthday party, and I was wondering if… um… you might consider letting me have another go at it?" he proposed, then added with a hint of desperation her keen ears immediately picked up on, "You know how much Livvie means to me. She's my first born child, the answer to my-" She held up a hand, silencing him.

"Stop the sales pitch," she ordered, then handed him the dish to dry while she picked up the next. "Did you have something specific in mind?" He flashed his pearly whites, positively chuffed she'd been so easily swayed.

"She'd like a princess party, similar to Sophie's, although I have in a mind a few… minor… alterations," he offered, as he set the dry plate in the cabinet.

"What kind of minor alterations did you have in mind?" she asked, suspiciously, handing him the next, then fishing a glass from the basin of sudsy water. His tongue flicked out to moisten suddenly dry lips.

"Well, you know how the girls love their princesses," he approached. "I thought we might hire—"

"No," she drew the word out, firmly. He swallowed hard. Maybe he could work around the princesses with the girls if…

"Then, perhaps we could rent—"

"Noooo," she drew the word out even longer, even more firmly. Desperation set in.

"But, Laura," he implored. "The girls. They're so looking forward to—" She dropped the glass she'd been washing back into the water, and slapped off the faucet. Grabbing a dish towel from off the countertop she spun on a heel and faced him.

"What have you done?" she clipped out, crossing her arms in front of herself. Retreat and regroup, retreat and regroup, his innate sense of self-preservation screamed. Instead, he moved his mouth several times, and rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes flicking back and forth between the exits to the kitchen, his treacherous legs refusing to move.

"Before you go blowing things out of proportion—" he began, then seeing her eyes narrow at that turn of phrase, tried again. "I was merely having a conversation with Livvie about her upcoming birthday…" Her lips tightened and a set of fingers thrummed against the other arm. He rubbed at the back of his neck in response, wondering how long it would be until she lobbed his head right off it.

"She wished to have a princess party like Soph," he rushed to explain, stumbling all over himself, "Then Soph mentioned Ariel. 'Who's Ariel,' I asked, and she brought up Frances' hair, which even you have to admit was quite humorous, and I became rather caught up in recalling that evening…" And, just like that, he lost train of thought. "…The foot massage, then…" With a waggle of his brows, he sauntered towards her.

"What did you do?" His feet froze, his face fell and that hand dragged through his hair again.

"It was hardly my fault!" he protested. "If anything, Livvie and Sophie used a brief… very brief… pause to enjoy the memory of that night to… to… catch me unaware. One moment they were speaking of this…" he waved a hand in the air "…Little Mermaid, and next thing I knew they'd… without my knowledge…" he emphasized "… and during what I believed was no more than casual conversation… they somehow extracted a promise from me… that…" He pulled a hand through his hair and gave her a beseeching look "… the princesses would be at Livvie's party, live and in living color, along with a castle," he finished feebly.

"So, let me get this straight," she replied, in a tone far too light for his taste, as she slowly approached him. "You expect me to believe, you… the adult…" she poked a finger into his chest. He raised his hands, backing up, "…the consummate conman…" another poke, and another step backwards "…was… outwitted… by a pair of preschoolers?!" she asked, sarcastically, her voice rising on the last of the words. He gave her his most charming of smiles.

"Now to be fair, Laura," he stepped to her and grasped her hips with his hands, and raised his brows at her, flirtatiously, "I have been out of the game for more than nine years now, thanks to the love of a good—" The purse of her lips and lift of her brows halted his words.

"Nice try," she drawled. His face fell. "Now, repeat after me: Your Mother and I will discuss it." His brows furrowed, and he appeared undecided. "Mr. Steele…" she ground out.

"'Your Mother and I will discuss it,'" he repeated, resignedly.

"From her forward, when any discussion regarding birthday parties takes place, any request will be met with that answer." She tweaked his chin and backed out of his embrace. "Understood? Finish the dishes," she directed, before turning to leave the room. He watched her retreating from.

"Where are you going?" They did, after all, have a long-standing agreement: He cooks the meals, she does the dishes. "I made—"

"To my office. Apparently I need to scrounge up some princesses and a castle, so our daughter' s heart won't be broken on her birthday."

He grimaced.

October 1992 – 5th birthday approaching

"Da," Livvie piped up, from where she and Sophie were playing in the sand, "Can Barney come to my party?" Remington prepared to tell her, of course, she could any little friend she wished at her party, then wisely clamped his mouth shut, recalling the year prior.

"Mommy and I will talk it over," he finally replied.

"Okay," Livvie agreed, easily.

Never had he been so grateful for having uttered those words than when he learned Barney was not a school mate, but a big, purple dinosaur whom, it seemed, was all the latest rage.