And then there was Paris

by Clavyus

This story assumes the whole nine season canon. Lucas is fifty-one, long divorced, living in Paris. Brooke is recently divorced. They haven't been together since high school, but they have secretly been carrying a torch for each other. Brooke goes to Paris to meet Lucas, and the story follows.

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It's a four hour drive, from Paris to Arfeuilles, a tiny hill town about an hour north and west of Lyon. We leave at eight, and we finally get to our destination around half past noon. Brooke is just being herself, jumping up and down with curiosity about where we are going, but I just smile and tell her to be patient. The tiny country road actually ends at the tall wooden gate, with the sign "Bienvenu a La Jolie Fille", and a stout man in his sixties, wearing jeans, a white button down shirt, bald with a big mustache and a broad smile.

I get out of the car and give him a warm hug. "Maurice! Thank you for waiting for us." Brooke steps out of the car and stretches. And this is Brooke Davis, my girlfriend. Brooke, this is Maurice, manager of La Jolie Fille. "Ah, Monsieur Scott. Finally, Madame comes. It is so nice to finally meet you!"

Brooke seems to wake up. "La Jolie Fille? The Pretty Girl? What's this, Broody? Some special inn you found?"

"Patience, my love. Let me show you."

Maurice opens the gate and climbs back in the car with us. To one side of the road, there is a deep hillside forest, mostly with with oak, walnut and some pine trees. On the other side, a large hillside vineyard. It's another three minutes until we park by the main house. It's a two-story gray stone structure, built in the seventeenth century as the manor for a minor baronet, with a steep black roof, two large chimneys, white two-leaved windows and a broad red-painted two-leaf door. The front of the house faces the downward hill slope, giving it a beautiful broad landscape view of the vineyard and the forest, with a glimpse of the brook across it. The house is at the center of a working farm and winery, with the working structures, presses, vats, cellars, barns and livestock facility hidden from view by the house itself.

A young man picks up Brooke's suitcase and my bag from the trunk of the car and disappears with it ahead of us, while Brooke walks in, taking in the marble floor, the curved staircase going up, and openings to the rooms at both sides of the house. "Lunch will be served in the small dining room, Monsieur. Carole is just waiting for your sign."

"Thank you, Maurice. Give us a few minutes."

Brooke is still looking at the place, slightly dazed. I pick her up by the hand and lead her to another two leaf door, painted green, which I open and bring her in. It's a large room, easily fitting my entire Paris apartment in it, with windows in two sides, a couple of sofas and a gaming table near a corner. The room is dominated by a great stone fireplace, and above it, a lifesize painting of smiling Brooke, wearing a red gown, gloves and a fancy hairdo. She looks at the painting and at me. "I remember this gown... the opening of the New York Fashion Week, what, twenty? No. Nineteen years ago. Lucas. This place is yours. La Jolie Fille. You fucking lunatic, you bought me a palace?"

"I bought you a farm and a vineyard. The palace was more like a ruin when I got it. It wasn't called La Jolie Fille then. I had it renamed. Welcome home, Pretty Girl."

Brooke paces up and down in front of the fireplace, tears pooling in her eyes. "When did you buy this?"

"About eighteen years ago. It took me eight years to get it to look like it does now, spending a few weeks here at a time. I called it my writing retreats. I wrote most of my last six books here. The property employs about ten people, and it actually makes money. The red wine produced here is labeled "La Jolie Fille", and it's a light body merlot, fairly appreciated, and mostly consumed locally. We produce about twenty thousand bottles annually. We also produce cheese, meat products and vegetables for the local markets. Some restaurants in the region get some of their produce from us."

"A palace, Broody? Really?"

"You don't like it?"

"You crazy man. I love it. I adore it. I just cannot believe you would do this. Let me take it back. You always had this crazy romantic streak on you. I thought the ten books were more than enough, but no. Broody saw the notebook one too many times. Build a house, no, a fucking French palace for a woman that might never, probably would never show up. I should have you committed, and myself right alongside you."

"As long as we get to share straitjackets..."

"Come here, crazy man." And she grabs my neck and gives me a long hot kiss that lasts until her stomach grumbles. "Hm. We'd better go eat. I'm dying to see the rest of the place. I hope there is a jacuzzi somewhere in this joint."

Lucas just smiles at her. Of course there is a jacuzzi. Brooke looks around some more. "This place needs a feminine touch. I'm hiring the best interior decorator this side of the Atlantic and I'm gonna go crazy here."

"It's your home, pretty girl. Whatever you want."

Lunch was served on a small dining room adjoining the kitchen. It was served by a pretty blonde in her forties, wearing a cook's uniform and ruddy cheeks from the stove. It was simple, delicious food, salad, roast chicken with vegetables and fruit, with their own La Jolie Fille wine and well water from an earthenware jug.

After lunch, Lucas took her on a tour of the estate, beginning with the house itself. Downstairs, besides the huge room with the fireplace and the entrance hall, there was a large dining room, with a table good for sixteen people, a library and study, the kitchen with a small adjoining dining room, laundry facilities and a couple of bathrooms. Upstairs, from the landing there were two corridors. One led to a huge master bedroom, dominated by an antique canopied bed. A doorway led to a dressing room almost as big as the bedroom itself and a small room with a pretty Louis XV desk and empty bookshelves. Another doorway led to a walk-in closet holding with Lucas' clothes. On the opposite wall was the door to the ensuite bathroom, with a double sink, a little separate room with a the facilities, a small dry sauna, a huge modern shower, a jacuzzi, and what could only be described as a small swimming pool. On the other side of the landing, five smaller bedrooms, with double beds, walk-in closets and functional ensuite bathrooms. A small wooden staircase led from the landing to an attic, which had a modern looking fitness room, a sofa with a huge flat screen tv, a small bathroom and another couple of bedrooms, all with exposed roof beams, illuminated by skylights.

Brooke was like a child in a toy store, touching everything, doing little pirouettes and having the time of her life. "I'm going to love living in this place, boyfriend. Thank you." He then took her on a tour of the working part of the property, the barns and the chicken house, the pigpen, the smoke room, the wine press, the cellar and the wine-making lab, the cheese press, the employees residences, the gardens, a small hothouse producing gerber daisies, the pastures for their two dozen cows, and the sheep, the vineyards and the small pond, seeded with perch and trout. Finally he took her on a trek of the woodlands, their small brook, and a trail leading to a cave and a view from a hill a little ways away from the main house.

"This is it, my queen. Your little kingdom. I hope it suits you."

"Did I tell you I sold the penthouse, before coming to Paris?"

"No."

"I came to you essentially homeless. Sure, I still have the lodge at Aspen, but that's it. I was enchanted by your apartment in Paris, totally ready to call it home. But nothing like this ever crossed my mind, even in my wildest fantasies. Our own little enchanted kingdom. How hard is it to get to the rest of the world?"

"The nearest airport is in Vichy, about forty five minutes away by car. You can land a small helicopter in front of the house, if you are in a hurry.. I had a T1 optical fiber connection done, so you can pretty much run a large corporation directly from the house. We are about two thousand feet above sea level, so we get occasional snow during the winter, enough to close the access road, once or twice a year."

"What about neighbors?"

"There are a few farms around, but nothing on the scale of La Jolie Fille. The nearest city is Arfeuilles, with about five hundred inhabitants, with a small market and a gas station.

The nearest real shopping, restaurants, movie theaters and so on is in Vichy, a pretty city of sixty thousand. For real city life, we can go to Lyon, about an hour and a half away. I have a few acquaintances in Arfeuilles, but nobody close. Maurice, Carole and their children are my family here. Two boys, ten and eight, and an adorable little girl of four. The boys go to school on Vichy."

"Let's go back. I want to try that bed."

"Good thinking. I've been waiting, what, twelve years, to try that bed."

"You never slept with anyone on that bed."

"Of course not. It's always been our bed. I wouldn't sleep with another woman there."

Brooke recalls two years ago, opening her bedroom door and finding Julian with a blonde starlet on her bed. By then it wasn't even jealousy. She no longer gave a rat's ass about Julian at that point. It was the disrespect that got to her. She looks at Lucas. It feels so good, when a decent man worships the ground you walk on. A palace indeed.

"Why did you ask for the special gown?"

"It's for dinner tomorrow. We'll have something different."

Brooke's phone rings as they are getting back to the house. "Hi, bug. How's everything?"

"Just fine, mom. I'm headed to work now. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I have a new boyfriend."

"That's nice mom. Anyone I know?"

"Yes. It's uncle Lucas."

"Ah. Dad was right then."

"How so?"

"He mentioned a couple of months ago that you'd end up with him."

"I do have a history with Lucas, sweetheart. Your father knew about it when we got married."

"That was a long time ago, no? Did you ever... Never mind, It's none of my business anyways."

"I never cheated on your father, bug."

"That's fine, mom. I hope you're happy. Please say hi to uncle Lucas for me. Can I tell Dad?"

"Sure."

"I will, then. Bye."

"Bye."

Lucas and Brooke get back to their room and go for a soak in the pool.

Lucas is just checking out Brooke's naked body across the pool. "I feel like a teenager again. One look at you, and up goes Little Lucas. You still drive me crazy, just like when we were sixteen. Back then I thought it was teen hormones and having the sexiest girl in the school. Now I know better. No other woman ever had this effect in me. Not even close."

"It's not the same with me, I think. I still find you very attractive, but you're not essentially different from other hot guys I've been with in the purely physical sense. What drives me crazy about you is the way I feel in your arms. You're my home, Lucas. The only true home I've ever known. It's amazing to me that you spent all this effort making this incredible home for us. But in truth, all you need to do is open your arms."

Lucas laughs softly. "It felt batshit crazy at times, but the truth is that I enjoyed doing it all, the books with the secret love letters, and building this grandiose nest. It seemed like you were right next to me at times. Well, I do have an overactive imagination."

Brooke giggles at that. "I took an amazing amount of joy from your books, Broody. I felt guilty as hell too, but, to be entirely honest, that was part of the fun. I'm not a good girl, I never wanted to be one. I played the part of the good mother, the good wife, the serious businesswoman, but I needed to be the wanton girl with the dark secrets too. I lost count of the number of times I brooked myself listening to one of your books and thinking of you."

"Now, that's an image I'll happily take to my grave."

"How can you tell if what you feel for me is love, and not some kind of sexual obsession?" Her light tone and a smile hide the deadly seriousness of the question.

"I have an undeniable sexual obssession with you, Pretty Girl. I'm also completely, head-over-heels, in love with you. I didn't write those books to get in your pants. Hell, I didn't write them to get you back either. It was mostly this compulsion to express what I felt through my art."

"It seemed a little too deliberate for that."

"I said mostly. Maybe I hoped to mess with your head a bit."

Brooke laughs. "You certainly did that. Now I wish I'd given you some sign that I was listening."

"You showed up in my door pretty much the first moment you felt free to do it. That's more than enough. "

"I almost broke down at Karen's funeral. But the twins were fifteen, a very young fifteen. I couldn't go to you then. But I very nearly did."

"To be honest, that was one moment I wasn't paying much attention to you. I was pretty broken up, and what little I had left, it was being there for Lily and Sawyer."

"I know. What killed me was that I couldn't be there for you. And for myself. You know how much I loved Karen."

"And she loved you. Both of them would be very happy to see us together."

Brooke comes around and huddles into my arms. "We'll go to Tree Hill, and visit their grave together. Maybe I can say a proper goodbye if I'm with you."

We stay together for a while. Brooke feeling small in my arms. We shower together, and we make our way downstairs for dinner. After dinner I decide to call Peyton.

After two rings, she answers with a light voice. "Hello? Peyton Sawyer here."

"Hi Peyton, it's Lucas."

Her voice turns cautious. "Luke. Hi. What can I do for you?"

"I'm calling to tell you something that I didn't want you to find out through the tabloids."

She sighs. "You're back with Brooke. Her divorce finalized less than a year ago. It was just a matter of time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're finally where you belong. I'm happy for the two of you. Is she there?"

"Yes."

"Set the phone to speaker. Hi BDavis."

"Hi PSawyer. Nice to hear your voice."

"So, you made your way back together after all. I would say that I'm sorry I ever got in the way, but we all got Sawyer out of that mess, so... congratulations. How long have you been back together?"

"Two days."

"I see. That's fine guys. Just don't invite me to the wedding."

"You got it, Goldilocks." Brooke giggles. "Well, I was your maid of honor. I was hoping you'd return the favor. You didn't show up for my first wedding, and you did promise, after all."

"You're kidding."

"I guess. We aren't talking about weddings yet, but, knowing Broody, I suspect a ring is in the works. He's always been a little too quick in the trigger in that respect."

We all laugh about that one. "I can't deny that one. I have been divorced for ten years without asking anyone to marry me, though."

"Hmpf. You were just waiting for the little slut to wander back into your life."

"True."

"I miss you, PSawyer."

"I miss you too BDavis. You know what? I changed my mind. If the two of you ever get married, do invite me. I'll even do a nice little speech at the reception."

"You sure about maid of honor?"

"All right, slut. I'll even do that. I guess I owe you after all."

"Thank you, whore. I'll call again later for news from you."

"Bye, Peyt."

"Bye guys. Have fun."

Lucas hangs up and Brooke comments. "That was a surprise."

"I actually hoped for something like this. Peyton off the pills and the sauce is a wonderful person.

If she sticks with it, it might help with Sawyer too. Just a second."

Lucas goes into his closet and comes back hiding something behind his back. "I was going to do this tomorrow, but with the subject so amply ventilated, I might as well get on with it." He gets in one knee and extends a little black box, which he flicks open. "Brooke Penelope Davis, would you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Brooke looks at the ring, with a small smile in her face. It is a large round cut diamond, surrounded by tiny sapphires, on a platinum mount. "Yes, Broody, I'll marry you." He places the ring in her finger. "Very nice, fiancee."

"Thanks."

"I have a little surprise for you, Broody, and a question to ask you too."

"Fifteen years ago, I did a couple of egg-harvesting procedures. I have fifteen viable eggs in storage in a fertility clinic in New York. I went to the clinic right before I came to Paris, and I had a long conversation with their chief specialist. He said that I was in very good physical shape, and that, with the right hormone supplementation and pre-natal care, I should have no problem in carrying a pregnancy to term. He also told me there were procedures to screen out HCM-carrying embryos prior to implantation. So, fiancee. I would like to ask you. Would you want to try to have a baby with me?"

Lucas sits in the floor, looking pale. "Are you ok?"

He nods and asks in a small voice. "Is it safe?"

"Yes. As safe as any moderately risky pregnancy."

"Then yes. There is nothing in this world I would like better than to raise a child with you, Pretty Girl."

"I'm glad."

"Why did you do it?"

"They were for you. You built a home. I set aside some eggs. You're not the only hopeless, crazy romantic in this couple."

"I know that. Parents again?"

Brooke gives a full smile. "Yes. By the way, how's your ticker?"

"Doctors say it's good for another thirty years. It seems that I had a "nice" kind of HCM."

"Let us continue this conversation later. Right now, I desperately want you inside me, fiancee."

"You got it, fiancee."

Breakfast next morning they were back dealing with details.

"We should do the fertilization procedure immediately. We are not getting any younger."

"That's fine with me. I'll try to set it up for Monday. It's a three day procedure, but you're only needed to start it."

"I can skip class. Charlie is actually qualified to sub for me once in a while."

"What about the wedding?"

"Sooner, rather than later."

"Thanksgiving weekend? Here in La Jolie Fille?"

"We can go to Arfeuilles later today and talk to the priest."

As it turned out, the priest was willing to marry them, in the tiny sixteenth century church in Arfeuilles, and Thanksgiving Saturday was available. Brooke hires a larger jet to bring everybody from New York to Vichy on Thursday morning, leaving back on Sunday morning to New York. There is enough space in La Jolie Fille, barely, for their guest list. Next they call everyone, and most everyone agrees immediately, with the surprise given by Sawyer, who warned them she would bring a plus one. Lucas and Brooke tell Sawyer they would be in New York for a few days, beginning Monday, and they arrange to have dinner together with her plus one, in a nice restaurant midtown on Tuesday.

Lucas and Brooke leave on Sunday morning to New York, straight from Vichy, and reserve a room at the Plaza, intending to stay for a week. By Monday morning, news of Brooke's quitting her company reaches the financial markets, causing a loss on the holding's stock, quickly followed by a formal press release, announcing the new management team. The press finds out Brooke is staying at the Plaza, and camps out in mass at the front of the hotel. The fertility clinic is ten blocks away from the hotel, so Lucas and Brooke manage to slip away unnoticed, using baseball caps, dark glasses, exercise suits, and a discreet side exit. Brooke's publicist arranges for a press conference late afternoon at the Plaza itself, to talk about Brooke's quitting as CEO of Brooke Davis Holdings and her engagement to Lucas Scott.

After Lucas lengthy conversations with the clinic's staff, he makes his contribution to their baby project, and Brooke starts the course of hormones which will prepare her for implantation. In sixty hours they should know how many HCM-free viable embryos they have. They arrive back at the hotel early afternoon, share a brief meal and a bit of fun in the shower and, by five o'clock, they are accompanied by Brooke's publicist and Lucas' agent, in front of a crowd of fifty reporters at least. Brooke and Lucas are both dressed in sober business attire.

"Ms. Davis, Jeff Blum, Financial Times. Can you comment on the reasons you decided to step down as CEO of Brooke Davis Holdings?"

"It's mostly personal, Jeff. I've been managing the holding for over twenty years, and felt it was time for a change. Also, my future husband Lucas Scott lives in Paris, and I wanted to try it for a while."

"A follow up, Ms Davis. What do you plan to do next?"

"I'll probably continue to design, but in a leisurely way. My next project is my own wedding gown."

There's some laughter in the audience.

"Ms Davis, Rob Kern, New York Times. Can you comment on the choice of replacing you with a team of three specialists?"

"Well, Rob. This was my considered decision, based on what I know my old job entails. I had opportunity to grow and learn on the job, as the company grew, but I don't think any single person could step on my shoes without extensive preparation at this time. The new management team consists of a media executive, and a fashion executive, under the supervision of an executive from the finantial sector. That way, the different aspects of my old job are under the care of people who have hands on experience on what is involved.

"Ms Davis, Rebecca Thorn, People. When did you meet Mr. Scott."

"We used to date in high school."

"Follow-up. Ms Davis, when did you start dating Mr. Scott lately? "

"We met in Paris a few weeks ago."

"Ms. Davis, John Paxton, USA Today. Why the rush?"

"There is no rush, John. Lucas and I have known each other for a very long time. I'm godmother of his only daughter. We just didn't see the point of waiting."

"Follow up Ms. Davis. Do you have a date?"

"Yes. Very soon."

"Mr Scott, Donald Kiernan, Washington Post. Is it true that several of your romantic heroines are loosely based on Ms. Davis?"

"Not exactly, Donald. It is unavoidable that characteristics of the author's acquaintances show up in their fictional characters. In addition, Ms. Davis has been a dear friend for decades, so it's only natural that some of my female characters resemble her. This is neither intentional nor very relevant."

"Mr Scott, Ms. Davis, Peter Hamick, Entertainment Weekly. Did your relationship play a role in Ms. Davis recent divorce?"

"No."

"Ms. Davis, Agatha McIntosh, Vogue. Did you see yourself as important in the creative process behind the Brooke Davis fashion lines, and do you think the house talent can keep the creative momentum that has characterized your work for decades?"

"Thank you, Agatha. There are excellent design teams working for the different lines at Brooke Davis fashion, several of them I trained myself. Besides, I'll keep my hand on the creative side of the enterprise, as part of my new role as Chairman of the Board."

Brooke looks at her publicist. "We will be concluding this interview now. Thank you for your participation." Some of the reporters still shout questions, but we leave the room quietly, helped by our security detail.

The next morning we are in the front page of much of the mainstream media, but there are no problem points. The coverage of Brooke's quitting and our engagement seem pretty mild, and the holding's stock heads back to it's previous level. We still use discrete clothing and the side exit to head to the clinic, where Brooke spends the day being prodded and poked in preparation for the implantation. Later we get back to the hotel, dress up, and get on one of the detail's SUVs, to go meet Sawyer at the restaurant. We are shown to a table where Sawyer and her companion are already waiting for us. I'm using a Brooks Brothers gray suit and Brooke is wearing one of her designs, a long bottle green number that hugs every curve, with a conservative cut and a string of pearls. Sawyer looks lovely, with a mid-calf black skirt, white sandals and an off pink sweater. Her companion is mid-forties, shorter than her by a couple of inches and thin, bald with a short salt-and-pepper beard, and thick glasses, wearing a suit with even better cut than mine.

"Daddy, aunt Brooke, this is Jeffrey Osmond, my boyfriend. Jeff, These are my father Lucas Scott, and his fiancee and my godmother, Brooke Davis."

I give Sawyer a slightly unwelcome hug, "Hi, sweetie. It's good to see you." and Mr. Osmond a hand shake. His shake is firm, and his hand, dry. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Osmond."

His voice is precise and in slightly high register. "It's very nice to meet you both, Mr. Scott, Ms. Davis. Please call me Jeff."

"Then you must call us Lucas and Brooke, please."

Brooke gives Sawyer a kiss. "Looking fine, Beanpole."

"You too, aunt. You just don't seem to age at all."

"Oh, nonsense. But thanks."

We sit and order drinks.

"So, Jeff. How did you two meet?"

"Well, I'm a lawyer. I'm pursuing a class-action suit against a drug manufacturer that marketed an antidepressant that seems to increase the risk of suicide among teenagers. Your daughter had a couple of post-op patients that attempted suicide after a course of this specific anti-depressant, and I deposed her as a witness. It turned out her testimony was not usable, because the teenagers in question has a history o suicide attempts unrelated to the drug. So I asked her out, and much to my surprise, she accepted. This was a couple of months ago.

"And how does the suit go?" Brooke asks him.

"The manufacturer settled. That's the way it usually goes."

Brooke turns to me. "Business tends to think of class action suits as the work of the devil. I actually like them. It's one of the few legal instruments that actually protects consumers at large from corporate misbehavior."

"Brooke's views on the matter are well-known. She is one of the few business leaders that supports trial attorney organizations and her companies are well-known to adhere to high ethical standards of conduct with suppliers, employees and customers."

"Thanks, Jeff. I've heard of a couple of your exploits as well. The coffee cup that came apart with hot coffee inside comes to mind, and some appliance that would catch fire with a power spike."

Jeff smiles. "That's right, Brooke. I'm glad some of my little exploits came to your attention."

"Jeff is being modest. His name is feared in corporate boardrooms everywhere."

Lucas turns to Sawyer. "What about you, sweetie. You've been pretty quiet."

"I'm actually rather amused. I was a little worried about bringing together my future stepmom great capitalist exploiter and my iconoclastic, corporation-hating boyfriend. I never imagined they belonged to each others fan club."

"Well, I'm sort of quitting the exploiting business, and I'm thinking of setting up large part of my ill-gotten gains as a charitable foundation to support social programs directed at people at risk, specially old people and children. I'd love to hear ideas from either one of you. I already know what your father would say."

Sawyer laughs. "Literacy programs and sports."

"Hey, what's the problem with that?"

"No problem. It's just that you're a rather focused individual."

Brooke giggles. "She is right about that, Broody."

"In truth, aunt Brooke, even some serious research at what are the greatest risk factors that poor children face in a place like New York would be extremely valuable. I don't mean risk of death. I mean risk of poor life outcomes, like mental illness, drug addiction, chronic unemployment, teen pregnancy or jail. It's about time that these problems be given real consideration as public health issues. There is too much politicking and not enough policy-making in this arena."

As Sawyer speaks, Lucas catches Jeff staring at her with a dreamy look in his eyes. Maybe he will do after all, Lucas thinks, despite the age difference. The question is, does she feel the same way? He tunes out the conversation about social issues and pays attention to his daughter's unspoken behavior. She keeps making brief eye contact with Jeff, and turns her whole body slightly in his direction. She also briefly touches his hand and shoulder as she speaks, and focuses on his reaction when Brooke does. Yes. It looks good, at least for now. And since Brooke likes the fellow, Lucas knows he will like him too. Brooke is a much better judge of character than Lucas ever was.

As they wait for dessert, Sawyer stands up. "I'm going to the little girl's room. Would you accompany me, aunt?"

"Sure, Beanpole."

When they are out of earshot Sawyer turns to Brooke. "I've never seen him so happy."

"It's the honeymoon phase, sweetheart. We've only been back together for three days. I'm just as stupid happy as he is. I guess you just know him better. By the way, I like Jeff. He is cute, scary smart and has a good heart. I hope it works out between the two of you."

"The difficulty with us is time. We both work too hard, and he travels a lot."

"First thing. Move together. There's nothing like waking up next to your guy. Second thing, make the time. Even a little goes a long way. A fifteen minute walk after a meal. A brief phone call before bed. A coffee break in the middle of the work day."

"Good advice. Thanks. Did you guys talk to mom?"

"Yes we did. She agreed to be my maid of honor. We promised we would be each others maid of honor when we were twelve. I fulfilled my promise when your parents got married, but your mother skipped my wedding because you were sick. Now she can make it up to me. And it would be just perfect, in an slightly ironic way, if she would be my maid of honor when I marry your father."

"This is crazy, Aunt Brooke. She was awfully jealous of you two when you were both married. Why does she accept you together now? I was sure she was going into another relapse with this news."

"We've had a really complicated history, sweety. I can tell you about it, but not in a bathroom break. Just make some time for a little girl-on-girl with me and your mother when you come to La Jolie Fille."

Lucas looked at Jeff and asked softly. "Have you ever been married?"

"No. I lived with a girl for a couple of years after law school, but it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry. What happened?"

Jeff shrugged. "We wanted different things. She wanted the well-behaved Harvard lawyer with the steady income and great prospects. I hated the big corporate law firm and wanted to make a difference."

"Did you love her?"

"I thought I did at the time." He gives a wistful look towards the girl's restroom. "I was wrong."

"She is quite a girl."

"They both are."

Lucas gives Jeff a broad smile. "So true."

"Our only problem is time. We both work too hard."

"Make time, Jeff. And by that I mean, make the most of what little time you have. I know she is going to keep on going full steam ahead with her profession, but things are going to ease up a bit after residency. You probably have a bit more control over your own rhythm, use it. The worst mistake is to let something essential slip away because you can't keep your priorities straight."

"Is that what happened between you two?"

Lucas laughs. "No. Youth, stupidity and bad timing screwed us up. The stupidity was all mine, by the way. Keeping our priorities straight appears to be bringing us back together at last. Can't complain, though. Our troubles made your girl possible, and she makes it all worth it."

"Yes she does."

"Did you tell her already?"

"That I love her? No. I'm afraid she will bolt."

"She won't. And if she does, just give her a little time. She's as hooked as you are."

Brooke and Sawyer come back from the restroom and they eat dessert. As they are leaving, Lucas pulls Sawyer aside and whispers in her ear. "I like him, Crabcakes. Good job."

Sawyer blushes, reminding him of a very intense, very confused fourteen-year-old. "Thanks dad." She looks at Brooke. "I think you deserve an attaboy too."

Lucas gives her a proud smile. "Thanks."

Back in the SUV, Lucas and Brooke look each other in the eyes, both reluctant to speak first. Finally Lucas breaks the impasse. "Wow."

Brooke laughs. "Very articulate, Broody. But I agree, wow."

"I always pictured Sawyer with some kind of professional athlete, someone who would match her looks and intensity. Instead she goes for a completely different type. And it fits. They both do."

"He is pretty cute too, Broody. And they are quite taken with each other. Did you see how he looks at her?"

"I sure did. She already has him wrapped around her fingers. She's pretty far gone too, but it's harder to spot. She's a little skittish, like her mother. Likes to play her cards close to her chest."

"I couldn't tell, but I guess you'd know her better."

"Oh, I've made Sawyerwatching into a science."

Brooke giggles. "You might want to try some Brookewatching now."

I look at her with narrowed eyes. "I intend to do a lot more than watching, Princess."