California Weekend
CJ/Danny, OMCs, OFCs; brief mentions of Josh, Donna, others
Adult – warning, discussion of violence
Spoilers through end of series
Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul
This needs more work, I think, but I wanted to get it posted before I leave on vacation.
Feedback and criticism always welcomed
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6:30 PM October 14, 2010 Santa Monica CA
Paul Reeves pulled into the driveway of the address he had been given. The directions that CJ had emailed him had been accurate and complete, very easy to follow. Mapquest ® was good, but actual experience was apparently much better.
When he had mentioned that he would be in Los Angeles for a conference, Danny and CJ insisted that he come out early and spend a few days with them. He agreed. There had been no time for a vacation this year, except for a long weekend with Deborah and Derrick at the beach where they were working for the summer. Danny had promised him a relaxing weekend with a pool and a hot tub, only as much sightseeing as he wanted, and one small gathering to meet their neighbors.
He rang the doorbell and was somewhat surprised when the door was answered, chain on, by a young African-American woman.
"May I help you?"
He introduced himself, explained that he was visiting from out-of-town, and that Mr. and Mrs. Concannon were expecting him.
"Oh, sure, now I remember, Miz C mentioned somethin' 'bout it."
He had the obvious mental connection when he heard "Miz C" and shook his head at the comparison of CJ Cregg to Marion Ross' Marion Cunningham.
"Now that I think about it, she's real late. She should have been home 2 hours ago. I got involved in my homework. We're reading 'War and Peace' and I'm really liking Tolstoy. I'm not supposed to let anyone in -"
He started to explain that he understood but she was already dialing a number on her cell.
"She's not answering; just hang tight, sir."
He smiled at the combination of the slang and the "sir". She was dialing again.
"Mr. Concannon, this is Shelbie. Mrs. Concannon hasn't come home yet and I can't get her on her phone. Your company is here, Mr. Reeves. Sure, I can do that. No prob."
She hung up and closed the door. He could hear the chain being removed from the door and the door reopening.
"Please come in." As he stepped into the foyer, he could hear a phone ringing. The young woman stepped into a room to her right and came back with a cordless, which she handed to Paul. Then she began to call someone on her cell.
"Paul, it's Danny. Look, I'm sorry about this. I'm driving back from Portland. My older niece got herself stranded up there. I'm about an hour and a half south of Sacramento right now, I'll need about four hours to get there. CJ probably ran into traffic and she sometimes forgets to charge her phone. Something else I should have put on that napkin back in May. Shelbie's gonna call some of the neighbors to take her home, her folks are sitting in the hospital with her grandfather, and someone to take Paddy. One of them will keep you company, get you settled, until CJ gets there."
"Danny, maybe I should just try to find a room -".
"Absolutely not. Between Fiona and CJ, I'll need someone else in the room to keep me from getting completely all Neanderthal on the lot of them," he laughed. Danny could hear the doorbell ring. "That'll probably be Hank and Steve or maybe Diana. Would you answer the door? I'll wait; I need to talk with them."
He opened the door to find an attractive Latina woman. "Hi, I'm Diana Muñoz, two houses up the street. There's a problem with CJ not being here?"
He introduced himself and handed her the phone.
The doorbell rang again and Paul opened it to find two men, obviously (at least to his "gaydar") the interracial couple that CJ and Danny had mentioned in past conversation.
After a bit of phone passing, it was decided Steve would drive Shelbie to the hospital to be with her parents while Hank would wait with Paul in the Concannon house until CJ returned. Diana would take Paddy home with her until everything could be normalized.
Hank and Paul had been casually talking (and watching SportsCenter) for about 10 minutes when the doorbell sounded again.
Paul heard a male voice. Hank answered, "I'm a neighbor – Oh my God, CJ! What happened to you? Damn, who did that to your car?"
Paul raced to the front door.
Two patrol officers were at the door with CJ. Her face was bruised, her lip cut, her suit jacket torn. She was being supported by one of the officers.
Paul acted instinctively, extending his arm and pulling her to him. She leaned against his shoulder. Over her head, he would see the blue Mustang. The convertible top had been ripped open, the windshield shattered. The driver side door was somewhat mangled.
"Are you her husband?" the officer asked.
"No, I'm a friend. Danny is on his way home, he's near Sacramento. What happened?"
"There was a bad wreck on the freeway, a haz-mat situation. We to detour traffic off the road. Apparently, Mrs. Concannon got confused, got off the main detour. Someone deliberately wrecked into her, and then when she stopped, tried to get her purse and the car. She was smart enough not to get out of the car and to keep the doors locked, but they cut the top and smashed the windshield, got the door open, roughed her up a bit. She wouldn't go to the ER, just wanted to come home. We didn't think she was in any shape to drive, so we brought her and the car here, she insisted.
By this time, Hank had reached Danny and was relaying the details to him. He handed his phone to CJ and picked up the house phone.
"Please, Danny, the EMTs checked over me and said there was no real damage. I just want to get out of these clothes, and get into bed. I don't want to sit forever in a hospital."
Hank took the phone from CJ. "Danny, I called the doctor, as you asked. He's got a prescription for Tylenol Three waiting at the drug store. Listen, I'll go pick it up, maybe get some antibiotic cream for her cuts. We'll take care of her till you get here."
The officers gave them a card with details of the incident and a case number so the insurance claim would be filed and told them that a detective unit would probably be in touch tomorrow. Hank left for the drug store.
Paul helped CJ into the house.
"Honey, which way to your bedroom?" The square of rooms around the courtyard was a bit confusing.
After he helped her into the room and onto the bed, he took off her heels.
"Let me get that jacket for you."
It wasn't until after he had removed the jacket that he realized that it wasn't a lacy blouse under the garment but a camisole. He saw more evidence of scratching.
Then he froze.
There was an ugly bruise by each front collarbone and four more just behind the top of each shoulder. But the bruises weren't new; they were the puce-purple-yellow-brown color that indicated they had been inflicted a week or two prior to today.
Again, his instincts took charge. Cold anger flowed through his veins. This woman had once been his, and he still cared about her well-being. Who had abused her, shaken her, hurt her?
No. No way in hell. The man was so completely head over heels in love with her; was so confident in the relationship between himself and his wife; was not the type.
But then, in a quarter-century of pastoral duties, he had learned that, on this subject, nothing was impossible. Professional businessmen, politically important men, even two fellow ministers – the only set rule was that there was no set rule. And the women - executives, college professors, even a federal judge; it could happen to anyone.
Before he could further speculate, or ask her, Hank returned with the pills and the ointment. The two of them further washed the scratches that the EMTs had treated and put the antibiotic on them.
Hank brought her a glass of water. "Come on, sweetheart. Take the pills Scott prescribed for you."
Then he went to a dresser, started opening drawers, and found a nightgown. He returned to the bed and removed her slacks and pantyhose. Hank was lifting the camisole when Paul must have made a sound.
"I'm a designer. And I'm gay. I've seen many women in just their skivvies; I've seen CJ in just her skivvies. Believe me, I have no desire -" and then Hank saw the look in Paul's eyes and understood.
"You have too," Hank said quietly, his eyes expressing a deep degree of sympathetic understanding. "You've done this before, but with desire, in much more pleasant circumstances, on the way to much more pleasant activities. Why don't you go into the family room? I'll get her into bed."
The doorbell rang again.
"Hi, I'm Wally Hamash, from up the street. You must be Paul. Here's some chicken à l'orange and some bread. I'm fairly certain CJ and Danny would have some salad in the frig. There's more than enough for Danny and his niece when they get in. Anything we can do, anyone on the block will help, except that the Rogers' at the top of the street on this side, and the Robbins', on the end on the other side, are on a cruise to Mazatlan, and Clara across the street is in Sacramento with her son. Hey, Steve," Wally greeted the man who just drove up, "there's also more than enough food for you guys, too."
Steve told Paul that he had spoken again with Danny. "Let's get your bag. I'm supposed to show you where the good guest room is. You should help yourself to the hot tub and pool, and, it goes without saying, anything you want in the refrigerator."
When asked, Paul assured them that he could manage by himself, that he had some reading that needed to be done before the conference that would start on Sunday, the reason for his trip to Los Angeles. After reassuring them that he would call if he needed anything, he closed and locked the door behind them.
He found some open white burgundy in the refrigerator and fixed himself a plate of the chicken dish, deciding that he could skip the green vegetable/salad component of his diet this evening.
He checked in on CJ and found her sleeping peacefully under the influence of the codeine in the Tylenol. He tried not to think about the marks on her shoulders just yet. He found some swim trunks in his luggage. There was a terrycloth robe hanging in the bathroom attached to the guest room.
The air temperature was still in the high 80's. He changed into the trunks, grabbed the robe and a towel, and swam 10 laps in the pool facing the ocean. Then he refilled his wine glass and went to the hot tub in the center courtyard.
The air was still mild, scented by the flowers in the courtyard. It was the peaceful oasis Danny had described when the former reporter had told him of the house CJ had envisioned, had caused to go from vision to reality. There had been so much love, so much pride, so much admiration in Danny's voice when he had told Paul of their home. It just didn't compute with the discoloration on her shoulders.
About 9:30, he began to get waterlogged, so he changed into a pair of flannel lounging pants and a T-shirt. He was about to check again on CJ, when he heard the sound of the garage door opening.
A door in the wall next to his guest room opened and a thin black-haired girl of medium height entered the courtyard, followed by Danny Concannon.
"Paul?"
"She's in bed; I was just about to check on"
The other man was racing across the courtyard. "That's my niece Fiona."
He took in the young woman. In the light of the courtyard, he couldn't see her clearly, but he would bet that her black hair was accompanied by either blue or green eyes, an extremely fair complexion, but no freckles. She was in a pair of heels that were almost as tall as her feet were long. If she was wearing hose, they were sheer flesh-toned ones. Her skirt was tight and curved under her backside. It extended down her thighs by about 5 inches. She wore a skintight tank top that barely touched her waistband. She obviously wore no bra.
He had always left decisions about Deborah's wardrobe to Alicia, and then to Alicia's sister after she had died (although, when asked, he did voice the opinion that keeping a man guessing about what was under a loose garment was, in his opinion, more alluring than taking away any doubt). He did remember Alicia telling his daughter that there could be a thin line between stylish and slutty; in his opinion, Danny's niece was within a millimeter of crossing that line.
Danny came back into the family room with an unopened toothbrush, some other toiletries, a T-shirt, a pair of shorts, and a set of towels, which he handed to the young woman.
"Are you hungry, Fiona?"
"No, Uncle Danny, I -"
"Then go to the room next to your aunt's office and get into bed. We'll call your parents in the morning."
"But, Uncle Danny, I -"
"Fiona, please go to the bedroom before I forget I'm your uncle and not your father."
"You might as well be, you're as uptight as he is."
"Fiona Maureen MacDonald, if I were your father, you and I would be in my den and my belt --", the man sighed deeply. "Please, this has been the worst day. Just. Go. To. Bed."
After Fiona left the family room, Danny looked up at Paul.
"I'm sorry. She's been a handful for the past year. She left school, worked in what was termed a 'gentlemen's club' in London, got involved with some men with more money than maturity, and ended up in Portland, without a visa, no money. I had to drive up Tuesday night, spend most of Wednesday dealing with the authorities, have Josh pull some strings, then another 14 hours driving back. Someone had to take my classes on Wednesday and I missed a seminar today."
Danny walked over to a cabinet and pulled a decanter from the back of the bottom shelf. He poured two glasses and handed one to Paul. From long experience, he waited for the man's reaction to his brother-in-law's family whiskey. After explaining the history of the alcohol and explaining that Fiona was basically a good kid, he turned the subject to his wife.
"Did you see what they did to her car?"
"She did have the top up, like you asked," Paul responded, "But yeah."
"I know she got lost on the detour, that she wasn't being careless. She loves that car. It would kill me to take it away from her, but it kills me with worry about something just like this when she drives it."
Paul could see the anguish in the other man's face. "I don't know your financial situation and I wouldn't ask, but, assuming the car is fixable, and assuming you can afford a third vehicle, why not get her something safe to drive when she's alone and keep the Mustang for fun and leisure, preferably when the two of you are together. I'm assuming you are not one of those men who insist on doing all the driving all the time."
"That might work," Danny sighed, then stifled a yawn.
The man had just driven almost 2,000 miles in 48 hours, had dealt with a recalcitrant niece and was clearly upset about the condition of his wife. But Paul could not spend the night under his roof, accept his hospitality, without finding out about the bruises on CJ's shoulders.
"Danny, when I was helping her with her injuries, I took off her jacket, I didn't realize that she wasn't wearing a blouse -"
"I did notice the nightgown. Paul, I wouldn't have asked what I asked of you in May if I didn't have confidence in your integrity, I'm not concerned that you -"
"Your neighbor. Hank. He put her in the gown. No, what I mean is, when I took off the jacket, I saw the bruises on her shoulders, the ones that have been there for some time, and I – Danny, she is still special to me and the thought of anyone doing anything to hurt her is unnerving."
Danny looked up. He realized what Paul was asking and he realized that he had to be honest.
"It wasn't deliberate, please believe me. I've had something that has been tormenting me for the past two, almost three months. When I know that something is bothering me, I can be aware of it, be extra careful to be gentle, not to let it interfere with being with her. The first time was right after we decided to pursue a serious relationship, right before the end of President Bartlet's term in office. I've been able to control situations before, again by being careful, or, if necessary, not take the chance at all, not touch her until I'm sure I keep everything in control.
"But this time, it sprang up inside me all of a sudden, in the middle of – believe me, as soon as I realized I was hurting her, well, it was more effective than the iciest shower, more effective than being walked in on by a parent, or a child. It was nine days ago, and I still haven't I trusted myself enough to try again.
Danny looked at Paul with tears in his eyes.
"I wouldn't hurt her for the world. Have you ever had anything like this happen to you? Can you understand? Can you believe me?"
"It was Valentine's Day," Paul responded, "our first year together. Although it was the middle of the week and I would normally be working, I switched with someone else, made reservations in a place I had heard about in Oakland. We were just finishing up, when someone came up to us and was upset that I was there with a white woman. If he had just said something to me, it wouldn't have hit as hard. My father had taught me, as his father had taught him, as I've taught my son, not to let it get to you, that being beaten up, or strung up, for that matter, was not worth reacting to a word.
"But you can imagine how CJ reacted. And the man called her a you-know-what's bitch. By this time, the manager, the wait staff, some of the other customers, were escorting the man from the restaurant. The management was incredibly apologetic. They wouldn't take any money, said they would even cover the gratuity. The next week, I received a letter with more apologies, an open-ended gift certificate for another meal. They told me that at least eight other patrons offered to pay for our meal, had tipped the wait staff for us."
Paul smiled ruefully. "I had arranged another bed for my roommate, with some guys down the hall. It was going to be the first time we would spend a weeknight together, except for Thanksgiving. But I couldn't trust myself to do anything more than hold her in my arms.
"Danny, I really didn't think, but I had to ask."
"I know. If the situation were reversed, I would have had to have asked also. By the way, did I just threaten to beat my niece?"
"I'm afraid you did. But, as you also said, you had one hell of a day. And, as my grandmother used to say, maybe the threat by itself will put the fear of God in her. She would also have said that maybe the girl deserved it, but I'm not going there."
Danny finished his whiskey and stood up. "I've got to get some sleep. I need to teach my classes tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure you're still on Eastern Time and must be dead to the world also. Please help yourself to anything if you wake up early tomorrow. The paper usually comes by 6:30. The coffee is in the refrigerator. The filter is a permanent one."
He escorted Paul to the guest room, checked on his niece (sound asleep), and entered his own bedroom. He went into the shower and took a warm one, hoping it would relax him.
Lying down, he pulled CJ loosely into his arms and thought about the thoughts that had possessed him since this summer, the ones that had caused the bruises Paul had questioned.
It started in Ireland. They were on the beach, the strand, he corrected himself, near Dingle, when he was hit with a powerful, gut-wrenching fear. Should anything happen to him, CJ must not marry Toby Ziegler.
At first, he thought it was jealousy and he berated himself for his meanness. He told himself that Toby cared for CJ, before, during, and after his marriage to Andrea Wyatt. He told himself that just as Toby had been physically faithful to Andi, the man would, if married to CJ, be physically faithful to her. That just as Toby did not intentionally inflict any mental pain on Andi, the man would, if married to CJ, not intentionally inflict any mental pain on her.
But it didn't help. The thought, the fear, kept returning, at odd moments, for the rest of their time in Ireland.
It continued when they returned to Santa Monica in August.
In September, the thought struck again with a vengeance in the middle of Hogan's wedding ceremony in the chapel at Annapolis. It continued when he returned to Santa Monica alone while CJ spent a week with Donna, who was easing into maternity leave, working half-days, shepherding Liz Bartlet as she learned the job of being Mrs. Santos' Chief of Staff.
Then came last week, when the thought came while he was making love with his wife. Toby must not, he must not, he absolutely must not marry CJ. And then she whimpered.
"Danny?"
He looked down, saw the pain, the fear, the questioning in her eyes. He saw his fingers pressed so hard into her flesh, against those delicate collarbones. As he had said, it was instantly deflating.
"Oh, my God, Jeannie! I don't know what in the world I'm doing! Please, darling, please forgive me! Are you okay? Can you breathe? Do you want to go to the ER?" By this time, he was lying on his side facing her, his hands tracing but not quite touching her face, terrified of his own strength.
She turned to face him and reached out for him.
"I'm okay, Danny, I am. It's just that you've never, except for that day when I told Santos 'no', been like this. Honey, what is bothering you so?"
"I don't know, Jeannie, but it's gone." He reached to pull her to him, kissed her forehead, put his arms around her. "Let's just go to sleep."
"But we have unfinished." She reached down to his groin, began to stroke him.
He gently moved her hand from him. "I can't, not just yet. But let me take care of you."
And he moved down, kissing her body as he went, and with his fingers and his mouth, did what he dared not do with his genitalia.
Then, on Tuesday morning, when Fiona called from the INS offices in Portland and he talked with Erin and Robin, the both of them alternating between fear and anger, his younger niece came to the phone.
"Uncle Danny, I'm sorry I wasn't home when you came to visit. I had no idea until last week what you've been going through. This isn't just from me; this is from Aunt Sorcha. You are not going to die for a very long time. You do not have to worry about Aunt CJ marrying anyone else."
He didn't think to question how Aisling knew what had been bothering him. All he knew is that when he heard her, he knew it to be the truth and his mind soared. But he had to deal with Fiona, call his powerful friends, go up to Oregon and take her into custody.
Now, instead of worrying about physically hurting his wife, he anguished about having to deny her the use of the car she loved so much. Maybe Paul's idea was best; maybe she would listen to him. He drifted off to sleep.
Friday morning
As his host had predicted, he did wake up on Eastern Time, about 4:30 AM for Los Angeles. He read over his presentation for the conference that would start Sunday afternoon and then read from his bible. Finally, at 6:30, he showered, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen to start some coffee and to retrieve the paper.
"Good morning."
He looked up to see Danny's niece. She was wearing the things Danny had given her last night.
"Good morning. The coffee is still hot."
"I'm a tea drinker myself," she smiled at him and began to start preparations for that particular beverage.
She brought her mug to the table and sat next to him.
"So tell me all about yourself," she smiled and put a hand on his forearm.
He carefully removed her hand from his arm.
"I am a Disciples of Christ minister. I knew your aunt by marriage when we were both at Berkeley in the early 1980's. I will be attending a conference in Anaheim starting Sunday. And I have children your age."
"That doesn't mean anything. A lot of men like younger women. My aunt Sorcha says that I need an older man. Maybe you're that man."
"Child, in my many years of ministry, I've met those men. I know they exist. I am not one of them.
"Instead of flirting with me, perhaps you should be thinking about the trouble and grief you've caused your parents, and your uncle. You are lucky that he has powerful friends. You could still be in jail. Or on your way back to Ireland, banned from ever returning to this country."
"Which might not be a bad idea." CJ came into the kitchen. "Fiona, would you please go into the family room and watch TV or call your mother or go take a bath or something."
As the girl left, CJ poured herself a cup of coffee.
"I'm sorry about her. She really is a good kid, she just thinks that she has to have a man in her life and that anyone will do. Not that you're just anyone," she smiled at the man.
"I know what you meant. How are you?" Her facial bruises were more obvious today than they were last night. The cut on her lip was right at the corner of her mouth and would probably heal without too noticeable a scar.
"Achy. Thank you for taking care of me last night."
"CJ, why didn't you just give them the purse, give them the car? You could have been killed!"
"Yeah, it was dumb. But they made me so damned mad!" She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "And look what it got me. My face is messed up and Danny'll probably insist on taking the car away anyway."
"CJ, he was so worried about you. He loves you so much. When he was talking on the phone, he was so frustrated that he wasn't here to take care of you. And last night, the anguish was so obvious." He wasn't going to tell her about the compromise he suggested. Maybe if she thought that there would be a long "serious discussion" about the convertible, she might be more amenable to the idea of not using it for her day-to-day travels.
"I know, I really don't deserve him," she smiled. "But don't you dare tell him"
She was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.
"Yes, this is she. Excuse me? From Oslo?" She sat down, holding the phone to her ear. "Are you serious? Come on, who put you up to this?"
"Aunt CJ!" Fiona came running into the room. On CNN, they just said that you and the man you work for won"
"the Nobel Peace Prize." CJ finished her niece's sentence. Then she spoke into the phone she was holding. "Yes, I understand. I'll await their call. And thank you."
She stood up to replace the phone and turned to face Paul.
"I've just won -"
He stood up, put his hands gently on her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. Then he traced a finger down her nose and lips, put his palm under her chin and traced her jaw with his thumb. "It looks like God had much better plans for you, as well as me, when he separated us. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."
"For what?" Danny walked into the room, yawning. The phone rang. There was a knock on the kitchen door; Hank and Steve were outside. The doorbell was ringing.
CJ went up to Danny and told him her news. He stared at her, then pulled her into a huge hug. "I told you would get good at new things. And look what you've done."
The rest of the day was slightly structured chaos.
Hank and Steve guarded the front door, keeping the news media at bay. "Mrs. Concannon will have something to say in a few hours."
Paul stood sentinel at the back door, performing the same duty.
Fiona became very adept at screening the phone calls, letting through friends and family. Twice, her eyes wide, she handed the phone reverently to CJ. "The Governor's Office." "The President's Executive Assistant."
Nancy came over and they coordinated statements and appearances with Frank Hollis. CJ would talk with the press and the other news media outside at noon. Danny called his department chair at Culver City. They would find someone else to take his classes again.
Hank called a friend from the studio; she came over and used her make-up skills to hide the damage to CJ's face.
Diana called. She would bring Paddy back in time for the news conference, properly bathed and "made handsome." She was also relaying all the good wishes from the neighborhood; everyone had enough sense to know that the last thing the Concannon's needed right now was more people in the house and more calls on the phone.
"If you are still planning to hold the party tonight to introduce your friend to us," (and Danny assured her that they were) "we'll also make it a celebration."
Danny asked her, when she came over with his son, to go over CJ's food list and see what still had to be bought and to handle those details.
The press conference, on the driveway, went as well as could be expected. Steve had had the foresight to get the keys to the Mustang and move it up the street to the Rogers' driveway, hoping to head off any questions. However, one enterprising reporter for the LA Times, a student in Danny's class last year, had read the police blotter and made the connection. They managed to field those questions with just a small degree of difficulty. As a husband, Danny was pissed; as a teacher, he was proud.
In mid-afternoon, when everything had somewhat calmed down, Robin arrived. No, he didn't fly over himself. In fact, he had requested a week's leave; in his mental state, he was in no condition to fly a plane. After asking Danny where he might have some privacy with his daughter, he escorted her into Danny's den. Fifteen minutes later, they emerged from the room, both of them very quiet, she with a trace of tears on her face. But Robin did have his arm around Fiona's shoulder and she did smile up at him weakly.
No, they couldn't stay the night. He had actually bought tickets, on another airline, not wanting to deal with a wait list for free seats, on an evening departure to Shannon via Chicago. The only thing he needed was a decent outfit for his daughter.
CJ's clothes would be way too big. After some trading off and trying on for sizes, Nancy went out and bought the girl a pair of sneakers, some underwear, and a tracksuit.
Father Niko called. Was there anything that the Teen Club could do to help?
Danny talked with him. That night, at the party, the doors were guarded by very polite, but very insistent young men – the defensive front line from Saint Monica's High, fresh from their upset victory over Mater Dei last night.
In spite of all the attention over CJ, everyone at the party made Paul feel welcome, asking him about his work, about his family, and, of course, how he knew CJ. Ever the private person, and knowing she was also, he played down the relationship, making it seem as if they had casually dated, little more than friends. However, he could sense the intrigue in the air, and a couple of times, he saw the young girls looking at him and giggling behind their hands. And then there were the looks directed at him by Diana, the woman who had helped with Paddy, the willowy Jessica from next door, and the Jewish woman, what was her name?, Aviva.
Saturday morning
Some self-important Hollywood couple had gotten into a fight with patrons at a restaurant Friday night and CJ was moved off the front page and off the local newscasts.
Danny had a Saturday morning seminar. They dropped him at USC and then Paul and CJ did some sightseeing until it was time to pick up the scholar. The rest of the afternoon was spent in more sightseeing.
They ate dinner at the little restaurant down on the pier and when they returned to the house, Paul did help the two of them to reach a compromise, the one he had suggested to Danny, on the Mustang. They would have it repaired and keep it for leisure use. CJ would promise to keep her cell phone charged at all times. Danny agreed that CJ's new car could have a sunroof if she kept it shut in "iffy" situations.
Glenallen Walken called, just back from Africa. He was so thrilled for her and Frank getting the Nobel. He had a favor to ask. His nieces had heard about the super concert at Camden Yards at the end of the month and really, really wanted to go. Would CJ be willing to let him take her place as the official representative from "Road to a Better World"? He would love to show the girls a super special time. CJ told him that he would be doing her a favor by doing so; the way she felt right now, she didn't want to leave the house, let alone the state. She explained about the attempted car jacking. He told her that he understood, but reminded her that she did need to get back on the proverbial horse and to not shirk too many of her duties.
Sunday afternoon
It was time to leave for Anaheim and the convention that was the purpose of this trip. She walked him to his car, loosely holding his hand.
"I'm sorry that everything turned out the way it did," she said.
"Don't be. I was thrilled to be here when you found out about the Nobel. Honey, you can't begin to understand how proud I am to know you, to have been part of your life. I am so happy for you and for Danny."
"But instead of a quiet, relaxing California weekend, you had to play nursemaid and marriage counselor, then security guard. And my niece pulled her Lolita act on you."
"I didn't mind helping out, and, in a way, I suppose Fiona's attentions were flattering. But, I don't want to train any more young women. You and Alicia were more than enough for one lifetime." He laughed as she poked his arm.
They hugged, kissed each other's cheeks and then he got into his rental and drove off.
She returned to the house, found her husband, and pulled him into the bedroom. It had been way too long.
He arrived in Anaheim easily, thanks again to CJ's directions, and checked into the hotel where the conference would be held. He had about an hour before registration and the opening reception, so he decided to check his email, something he hadn't done since Thursday morning.
He opened the one from his son.
"Well, Dad, while you lay around all weekend by the pool, drinking margaritas, I met the most fascinating girl from Dennison…"