The next morning, after another shared shower and a leisurely breakfast, they drove over to her house. Monk picked up the papers from her front step and brought them inside as Natalie grabbed her mail. He dusted the downstairs and watered her plants while she threw in a load of laundry, then he sat on the couch to leaf through that day's paper as she sat next to him and sorted through her mail.

An item on page ten made him sit up and pull the paper closer. "Oh my," he said.

"Hmmm?" Natalie glanced over, and then did a double-take. "Is that us?"

It was, indeed, a picture of them, one taken during the promotional hoopla surrounding his 100th case. The headline read:

Mr. Monk and the New Fiancée

Former Detective Finds Love Again

The byline, as he expected, was Susanne Campana.

"Oh, for crying out loud," he groaned as he began reading. Natalie leaned over his arm to read along.

One of SFPD's finest, former detective turned famous private investigator Adrian Monk, has recently become engaged to his longtime assistant, Natalie Teeger (née Davenport), according to a knowledgeable source in the department.

Monk is perhaps best known for his successful foiling of a plot to assassinate the governor of California several years ago, adding yet another lifetime jail sentence to that of his long-time nemesis, former finance mogul Dale Biederbeck, who is currently imprisoned in San Quentin. Monk is also responsible for solving the murder of City Councilwoman Eileen Hill, as well as the arrest and subsequent conviction of the Dispatch's former theater critic, John Hannigan, for first-degree murder.

"Actually, I'm the one that — " Natalie muttered, but Adrian shushed her so he could continue reading.

Most recently, Monk, while back on the SFPD police force for a short stint, was responsible for the apprehension of Mikhail Almonov, who killed SFPD officer Russell DiMarco over a plot to split the proceeds of reward money from the arrest of the notorious Pickaxe Killer. Monk was also present when, shortly before the new year, his now-fiancée Natalie Teeger was held hostage in her home in what the police described as a "robbery gone wrong" by Wallace Dougal, a known heroin dealer. The encounter ended with the suspect surrendering peacefully, and Teeger was reportedly not seriously harmed by the incident, suffering only a mild head injury and slight dehydration.

Monk's first marriage ended in tragedy when his wife, Trudy (née Ellison), was mysteriously killed by a car bomb on December 14, 1997. Despite his best efforts, her case has never been solved.

"So far as you know," Monk muttered scornfully.

Teeger was widowed in January 1998 when the plane of her husband, Naval pilot Lieutenant Commander Mitchell Teeger, was shot down over Kosovo by Serbian terrorists. The two have a daughter, Julie Teeger, 18, who is a freshman at UC-Berkeley. Natalie Teeger is also the daughter of Robert Davenport, President and CEO of Davenport Toothpaste.

Teeger reportedly began working as Monk's assistant approximately five years ago after the departure of his nurse, Sharona Fleming, who moved to New Jersey several months prior to Teeger's hire. It's not known how long Monk and Teeger have been romantically involved, but an anonymous source reports that the two were seen "dancing intimately" at the SFPD Charity Gala on New Year's Eve.

Adrian Monk, when reached by telephone at his apartment, had no comment. Captain Leland Stottlemeyer of the SFPD, who has repeatedly hired Monk to consult on homicide cases, also had no comment. Ms. Teeger was unavailable for comment.

"Well, it could have been worse," he sighed, folding the paper neatly and placing it on the coffee table. "I guess we won't have to bother with a formal engagement announcement in the newspaper."

"Somehow I don't think that an engagement announcement we wrote would have talked about us 'dancing intimately' at the Gala," Natalie said ruefully.

"At least her anonymous source was in the ballroom and not out on the terrace," he said, smiling.

Natalie blushed, remembering one particularly heated make-out session they'd engaged in that evening, in the shadowed, semi-private terrace nook outside the ballroom. "Thank goodness for small mercies."

Adrian suddenly froze, trepidation on his face. "What is it?" Natalie asked, touching his arm.

"I need to call Lieutenant Gautier," he said, referring to the JAG officer who had worked with them in solving Trudy and Mitch's cases. "That article mentioned both Biederbeck and Dougal — and Dougal's attack on you specifically. If Dale reads it in prison, he might — "

"Oh God," Natalie said, paling. Adrian looked around helplessly, and then Natalie retrieved her cell phone from her purse and found Gautier's personal cell number in her contact list. She handed him the phone.

"His assets are reportedly frozen, but they're not sure if they've found them all. He might have some hidden accounts from which he could hire a hit," Adrian said, punching the "call" button and putting the phone to his ear. "Or he might be able to call in a few favors from inmates or prison guards at California State Prison, where Dougal is incarcerated. There's no telling — hello? Lieutenant Gautier? This is Adrian Monk…"

After a short conversation, in which Gautier promised he would call the officials at San Quentin and make sure that particular section of the paper was removed from the prison library before Dale could get access to it, Adrian punched the "end" button.

"That should take care of it," he said with a relieved sigh. "Usually there's a delay of a day or two before the papers are put in the library, so they should be able to make sure he doesn't see the article."

"Thank God you noticed," Natalie said fervently. "I didn't give it a second thought." She flicked her finger against his lapel playfully. "I guess that's why you're the famous private investigator and I'm just your humble assistant."

"About that…" Adrian said, reaching up to caress her cheek. "I think you've earned a promotion."

She grinned. It was about time. "Oh, really? Do I get a new title?"

"Hmmm," he said, pretending to consider. "How about… partner?"

"Ooh, I like it." She sat up on her knees and looped her arms around his neck. "Does it come with a raise?"

"Oh yeah." He kissed her. "Fifty-fifty split of all the profits. Plus room and board." He kissed her again, more deeply, sliding his hands around her waist. "And you get sexual favors from the boss."

"Well, how can I say no to that?" she murmured as he pulled her onto his lap. She straddled him as they kissed slowly and passionately.

A loud knock on the door startled them both. "Maybe if we ignore them, they'll think no one's home and go away," Adrian whispered, his breathing labored.

"My car's in the driveway," Natalie reminded him, her voice equally strained. He groaned in protest as she climbed off of him. "Hang on, I'm going to find out who it is and send them packing."

She opened the door, fully prepared to give the Jehovah's Witness or whoever it was a blistering send-off. But the person she saw when she opened the door made her recoil in surprise.

"Hi, honey," her father said.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" she said blankly. She blushed, suddenly realizing how rude that sounded. "That is — I'm sorry, I didn't mean — "

"I was wondering if I might speak with you," he said, very politely. "And Mr. Monk as well, if he's here."

"Um… okay," she said, opening the door wider and showing him inside. Adrian rose to his feet, exchanging an uneasy glance with Natalie as he did so.

"Good morning, Mr. Monk," Bobby Davenport said. He was wearing a snappy three-piece gray suit and carrying a shiny brown leather briefcase. His shirt was pale yellow; his tie was dark gray and patterned with thin yellow stripes the same color as his shirt. "I was hoping you'd be here."

"Hello, Mr. Davenport," Adrian said nervously, twisting his hands together. He'd been on a first-name basis with her parents in the past, but given the situation he thought a bit more formality was called for. His stomach clenched at the thought of another family ruction.

Five full seconds of strained silence passed before Natalie thought to say, "Could I get you some coffee?"

"No, I'm fine, but thank you." He waited a beat. "May I sit down?"

"Of course," Natalie said, blushing at her own negligence. She wasn't usually so thoughtless, but her father's unexpected appearance had rattled her.

Bobby Davenport settled down in an armchair, placing his briefcase on the floor next to his feet, as Natalie and Adrian sat down next to one another on the sofa.

Natalie reached for Adrian's hand and clutched it tightly. Adrian put a supportive arm around Natalie's waist, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by her father.

"I suppose you're both wondering why I'm here," he said. "I would have called first, but frankly I didn't want to give you an excuse to find somewhere else to be." He directed his gaze at Natalie. "And I wouldn't have blamed you one bit after the way your mother talked to you yesterday."

Natalie relaxed fractionally. "She said some pretty terrible things," she said quietly.

"I only heard the conversation second-hand, but judging by what she told me, she did say some pretty terrible things," her father agreed. "She was well into her third martini by the time I got home from my golf game, so she didn't censor much." He glanced at Natalie's ring and smiled. "However, I understand that congratulations are in order?"

Natalie smiled tentatively and held out her hand for her father's inspection.

"It's lovely," Bobby said after admiring the ring for a moment. "According to the paper, you two have been together — romantically, that is — since at least New Year's Eve?"

"Yes," Natalie said awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I should have said something before, but… well, I was afraid that Mom…"

"…would react in exactly the way that she did," he said. The lines of his face settled into a grave expression. "I'm sure it brought back some unpleasant memories of when you told her you were going to marry Mitch."

She nodded.

"Natalie, I'm here for two reasons," Bobby said. "The first is because I owe you an apology. I didn't stand up for you, years ago, when you announced your engagement to Mitch. I have no excuse other than to say that I wasn't very accustomed to going against your mother, so I took the coward's way out and said nothing at all rather than rock the boat. I'm very, very sorry for that, especially since it meant that I never got to know Mitch very well, and find out for myself what a fine young man he was."

She tried to say something, but found she couldn't speak past the lump in her throat.

"Which brings me to the second reason I'm here," he continued. "I don't intend to make the same mistake twice. I only know you slightly, Mr. Monk, but I also know that my daughter wouldn't have consented to marry you unless you were a good man, and an honorable one. Our previous associations have already shown me that you are both."

Adrian squeezed Natalie's hand. "Thank you, sir," he said, stunned. "And, please… given the circumstances, call me Adrian."

"Then you must call me Bobby," he returned. "Or Dad, if you prefer. None of this 'sir' or 'Mr. Davenport' formality. You're to be my son-in-law, and I for one welcome you to our family."

"What about Mom?" Natalie asked, her voice thick with emotion.

"She'll have to deal with it," he said, showing anger for the first time. "I refuse to stand by while her stubborn pride and — and foolish notions of propriety chase our daughter away from us again. Once was more than enough."

"Thank you," Natalie said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that."

He smiled at her tenderly. "I love you, Kitten, and you have no idea how sorry I am for all of this. I can't control what your mother says, or even most of what she does, but there is something I can control." He lifted his briefcase from beside the chair, balanced it on his lap, and popped it open. He extracted an unsealed white envelope, stamped with the logo of a prominent San Francisco bank, and then closed and locked the briefcase again, restoring it to its former position.

"When you were born," he said, "I opened a savings account for you, and I transferred funds into it every quarter."

Natalie nodded. "My college fund."

"No," he shook his head. "That was opened by your grandparents. This account was opened by me, and me alone. Even though you were only a few days old, I started saving money for your wedding."

"I never knew that," Natalie said, moved.

"It was supposed to be a surprise. I still wanted to offer it to you after you became engaged to Mitch, despite what your mother said about us not contributing one cent, but before I could do so without your mother finding out, the two of you had already eloped. And given what you had said about never accepting a dime from us if you were starving to death in the gutter, I thought it best not to offer after the fact."

Heat flooded her face. "Dad, I'm sor—"

He cut her off gently. "I'm not finished. At any rate, I had decided to wait until the day Julie became engaged and give it to her for her wedding expenses instead. However, recent events changed my mind." He held out the envelope to her. "I closed out the account first thing this morning and had the bank issue a cashier's check in your name."

Natalie didn't move. Finally, Adrian reached out and took the envelope. He lifted the flap and peeked inside. The dollar amount he saw made him gasp. "Natalie," he said shakily. "I'd think you'd better look at this."

Seeing the shock on his face, Natalie took the envelope from him and also looked inside. She went pale. "Dad, I can't accept this," she said, shaking her head. "It's too much—"

"It's yours," Bobby said firmly. "Don't think of it as a gift; think of it as a favor to your father. Natalie, I'm not getting any younger. I thought I'd forever missed the chance to walk my little girl down the aisle at her wedding, and I've bitterly regretted that. Please don't deny me that opportunity again."

Natalie teared up again. "Oh, Daddy," she said, and flung herself at him.

Adrian rescued the check before it went flying, holding it tightly in disbelief.

Bobby patted his daughter's back, his own eyes moist. "At least we know that there won't be any homicidal maniacs at your wedding."

"I wouldn't guarantee that," Natalie said, sniffing and knuckling tears off her cheeks. "Adrian seems to attract them like flies."

"It's a gift… and a curse," Adrian said dryly. "But even so, we'll try to refrain from inviting anyone bent on killing the bride or groom."

"Always a good plan," Bobby said, chuckling. "However, I think that means your mother is off the guest list for now."

"What are you going to do about her?" Natalie asked, concerned. She knew, from practically her entire childhood, how difficult it was to live with Peggy Davenport when she was on the warpath about something.

Her father shrugged. "I'm going to tell her precisely where she can stick it."

"Dad!" Natalie said, not sure whether she was appalled or impressed. She'd never heard her father use language like that before.

"I'm serious, Natalie. I've had it. If she's going to continue her ridiculous vendetta, she can do it alone. I'll lease an apartment elsewhere, or even go stay with Jonathan if I have to."

Despite her amazement at her father's bold claim, Natalie shook her head. "She's not going to back down."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Bobby said. "I'm not going to waste my breath trying to persuade her. If she wants to end up a bitter, lonely woman who's driven away her entire family, then she can keep doing what she's doing. But maybe, through some miracle, she'll come to her senses and apologize to you – and Adrian."

Natalie shook her head again, sadly. "I'm not going to hold my breath."

"I know, Kitten," her father said kindly. "But in the meantime, you take that money and you plan the wedding of your dreams… and when the day comes, I'll be there with bells on, no matter what your mother decides. All right?"

"All right," she relented.

"That's my girl," her father said, patting her hand. "Well, I've played hooky from the office long enough for today, so I'd better start heading back." He picked up his briefcase and rose to his feet.

Adrian rose, too, and did something he very rarely did. He initiated a handshake. He could give no greater honor. "Thank you, sir – I mean, Bobby – very much," he said, fervently and sincerely. "Not only for the generous gift, but for your support, too."

Bobby shook his hand, looking very pleased. "It truly is my pleasure, on both accounts. I look forward to getting to know you better."

"Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?" Natalie asked, standing as well and threading her arm through Adrian's.

"Not today, but I'll come down for the weekend sometime soon," he promised. "Maybe I'll even convince Jonathan to abandon Seattle and join me."

"I'd like that," Natalie smiled.

Her father kissed her cheek, and then hugged her soundly. "I love you, Natalie. Never forget that."

She hugged him back. "I love you too, Dad. Have a safe drive back."

After he had left, Adrian gently placed the envelope with the check on the table. "I still don't believe it," he said, staring at it reverently. "You can have any kind of wedding you want now."

"But I can't make my mother change her mind," Natalie said, a little forlornly. "I don't know why I even care – we've clashed about everything as long as I've been alive. But it still hurts that she wants to disown me."

Understanding, he pulled her into a hug. "I know how it feels."

She winced at that, belatedly remembering that his father had been deliberately absent for a good chunk of his childhood and the vast majority of his adult life as well. She'd never known his mother, but what she had heard about her wasn't good. What the hell was she whining about? She at least had one good, loving, supportive parent, whereas he had none. She buried her head in his chest and let herself be soothed by his embrace. "I don't deserve you," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

He kissed the top of her head. "And I don't deserve you. Yet, here we are."

She looked up at him, then, and the love and tenderness she saw on his face stole her breath. The depth of his feelings for her still both thrilled and baffled her. She was no Trudy, yet he looked at her as though she was. It was sometimes frightening, knowing that she could never live up to what Trudy had been to him no matter how much she tried. Yet the amazing thing was that he didn't expect her to — he was simply happy with all that she could give him, as inadequate as it seemed to her.

"What?" he asked, puzzled by her strange expression.

She shook her head. "Nothing. It's just — occasionally, I have a hard time believing this is real."

"I also know how that feels." He kissed her, long and deeply, and both of them suddenly remembered what they'd been up to before Bobby Davenport's interruption.

"Hey," she murmured against his lips. "You were saying something earlier about sexual favors?"

He grinned. "Let me demonstrate." Laughing, he pulled her down onto the couch.