Set pre-picnic in Any Old Port in the Storm.

"You look ridiculous in that! For the love of God…"

"Come on," he pleaded, cigar in mouth. He cracked a grin and raised his arms in the air defensively. "I bought this one in Acapulco, remember? Perfect for the beach. Oh, I been dyin' to wear it. You even said you liked it!"

"You know I didn't," she glowered, packing their picnic cooler on the kitchen counter. Indeed, the offending pattern was something of an acquired taste. Loud, garish. Traffic cone orange. "It's just…not your color. To say the least. Makes you look like the stuff they put on your nachos at the ballpark."

"You're the one always tellin' me to wear more color, but not this one, no, this one's ridiculous," the lieutenant quipped. "Now I'm cheese sauce. I'm no mind reader, Rose."

"You know you are," she deadpanned. His deft perception never failed to spook her, even after years together. "Meanwhile, weather says it's gonna be over 90 today and you wanted to go out in…what was that, again? Khakis?"

"Well, it's a, a dry heat, you know. And you wanna know what I look absolutely ridiculous in, these shorts you picked out for me," Columbo said, gesturing to his exposed legs. "My legs look grafted on, they're so white. I'll be a laughing stock."

"Oh, come now. Yeah, your legs are pasty, no, no one cares. You look just fine," his wife assured him. "Besides, you wanna be sensible in the heat. Tony, Lydia, come on, or we're leavin' without you!"

"So I only look 'just fine', eh?"

"Frank, please. Not now."

"You packed the sandwiches, right?" Columbo said, peeking inside the cooler. "Capicol' this time?"

"Yeah," she sighed, their two children running in as she stuffed the remainder of their lunches into the cooler. "The Good Stuff, as you so put it. Lydia, bring your hat, angel. Tony, did you put sunscreen like I told you?"

"Yeah, ma," Tony griped, arms crossed in annoyance. He needed a dorky layer of sunscreen like he needed a hole in the head. Rose narrowed her eyes at him.

"I don't think you put enough," she said, squirting a dollop into her palm and rubbing his face. He grimaced. "You're so pale, at the arcade all the time with those other boys. How you can spend hours playin' Pong, I'll never know. Y'know you wouldn't burn up so fast if you just got a little sun, maybe did a little sports, if you-"

"Ma-aa!" he whined. "Come on!"

"Hey, listen to your mother," the lieutenant said sternly, collecting his various sundries. He placed a sharp pair of sunglasses atop his head. "Believe me, you'll look stupider sunburnt than you will with a white nose."

"He's right, you know," Rose chuckled, finishing the job on said white nose. "Pretty girls don't like lobsters." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, dude with the pastiest legs in L.A. tellin' me I'll look fine slathered in this shit. C'mon, Lyd, let's wait in the car," Tony groused, to his father's shocked affront. Off the two went to wait in the back of their mother's car-Dad's, of course, was a coupe.

"D'ya hear the mouth on this kid? The way he gets smart with me these days?" Columbo felt his blood pressure rise. "Kid dun't even talk to me anymore. My God, it seems like just yesterday he was toddlin' round the house in my coat, beggin' to go to work with his daddy and now…now I could just take that tongue of his and-"

"It's just a phase," she cut in. Her husband very seldom lost his cool, but something about their son's budding attitude towards him in particular rubbed him quite the wrong way. Guns in his face he at least knew how to handle. A mouthy, cagey son, not so much. "Look, he's fourteen, it's not a fun age to be. He'll grow out of it. Be patient. Don't take it so personally."

"Yeah? And if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll handle it. Y'know, he's just like you when you were younger. Too brash and too bright for his own good. You had that same smart aleck streak before you joined the force. Hell, it's still there. Who do you think he got it from?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, putting a fist to his forehead. He took a deep drag of his cigar. "You know, that kid's gonna be behind a wheel soon? Then we'll all be sorry."

"Like you weren't a nightmare your first time behind a wheel," she cracked, chuckling to herself at memories of gripping her seat in terror when he'd first gotten his own car-the Peugeot. Driving was more trouble than it was worth back home in New York. Needless to say, the learning curve was steeper than anticipated. Had he not been on the force, his license would have certainly been revoked by now.

"Oh no, I, I was different, Rose, c'mon. I was used to whippin' that squad car around, and these French cars, I mean, they just handle differently. You can't compare us like that. He's just a kid." She looked at him soberly.

"Not for long. Enjoy it while it lasts." He looked back at her and sighed in resignation.

"I know. I know. You're right."

"I know it's frustrating," she said as she made her way to the front door, her arms full of various beach day etceteras. "But let's just all try to have a nice time today. You got the keys?"

"Ohh, I dunno," he said, craning his neck as he admired her from the kitchen. He propped his elbow against the doorway and leaned his face against his hand. Rose's new yellow cotton sundress clung to her voluptuous figure as she walked, swaying gently in a manner most intriguing. He would have to take prime mental note of this fascinating phenomenon.

"Ah, think you mighta left 'em on that table."

"Ugh, my hands are full. Can you grab 'em?" she asked, nodding her head towards the foyer table in front of her.

"Well first off, young lady, I think you oughta let me help you with all that stuff." He gestured in amusement at his wife's obvious armful.

"I'm quite alright," she insisted, promptly dropping a thermos. She winced sheepishly.

"Why, of course, as we can all see," he said with a smirk, ambling over to the most stubborn woman he'd ever known. He picked up the thermos and she motioned at him to return it to some place in her armful.

"You're unbelievable. Wouldja let me help you for once? Tell ya what, how 'bout I hang onto this," he said, tucking the thermos under his arm. "Aaand this, and this, and that one, too." He plucked several more precarious items from her grasp, eliciting defensive yelps with each one.

"I'm perfectly capable of carrying it all myself!"

"Pickin' me up clear off the ground is what you're perfectly capable of, no argument there, sweetheart. Look, I'd just as soon not have to lug that thing around myself," he said, gesturing towards the hefty cooler still in her grasp. "I just don't think we wanna spend our afternoon playin' fifty-two sandwich pickup."

She pouted and turned on her heel to face the door in silence. Grabbing the keys, he snuck up behind her and gave the crook of her neck a long, gentle kiss.

"You play dirty, Lieutenant," she muttered, shivering from the scratchy sensation of his stubble against her smooth, olive skin. Admittedly, she never minded such underhanded tactics.

"Whaddya mean?" he purred, grinning innocently. He planted a few more for good measure. "I'm acting perfectly within my jurisdiction here."

"You think you can distract me. The kids are in the car, this place is an hour away, we wanted to get there before…" She trailed off and cleared her throat, averting her gaze as his free hand slipped around her waist. "And we've got things to carry, you know. Many…important things."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Columbo retorted, affecting some sort of vaguely theatrical diction. Rose couldn't help but laugh.

"I make you watch one Masterpiece Theatre…" she said, shaking her head as he opened the door for her. His eyes followed her to the car, once again laid helplessly upon those intriguing hips swaying in that yellow dress.