Once seated in Amanda's car Francine tore open the box that held her prize. "I should ask if you mind, but I just don't care, Amanda," she admitted.

"I transport a little league team in this car Francine, and it gets more body damage since I met Lee then Tom Brady during the Super Bowl. Believe me when I say, I don't care either," Amanda chuckled.

"Thank you," Francine chirped. The little wooden spoon in the box felt like sterling silver in her hand as she scooped the first bite of bliss into her mouth. At the explosion of flavor and the texture of moist sponge, juicy, boozy jam, satiny cream, and the deepest cocoa hit, her toes curled, her eyes rolled behind her head, and the sound that came from her throat would embarrass her later, but for one instant all was euphoria.

"Breathe, Francine," Amanda smirked. "I keep a bottle of frozen water in the door, you might want to hydrate."

"One word of this and they'll never find your body Amanda," Francine hissed.

"Mother's part bloodhound, and it's not like I haven't done the same thing over hot fudge," Amanda quipped. "In fact, I'm planning on it when I get home. I'm not even bothering with the ice cream," she added with a grin.

"Amanda King, think of the scandal!" Francine laughed, pretending to fan herself. They drove in silence until they reached Dupont Circle and the inevitable traffic jam. As Francine finished her last cherry she sighed. "Five years ago, today was supposed to be my wedding day."

"I'm glad it wasn't your mother's health getting worse again, but what happened," Amanda asked, her voice as gentle as the spring breeze outside.

"He left me at the altar, literally," Francine moaned. "I thought Lee might have told you, after I acted like a brat in Q."

"Lee loves you, although his mind might not use those exact words. He'd never tell me your secrets, and I would never want him to, if he did, I'd make him suffer for it," Amanda vowed. "So, why did Mr. Yellow, go AWOL?"

Loud bitter laughter filled the car as Francine tried to keep herself together. "That's the kicker, I have no clue. I was standing in the church all his family was there, anyone I cared about was there except Lee, he was stuck in Turkey, and the groom just never showed up. No phone call, no letter, no email, not even a damned text message! He just set his Facebook profile to single and went dark. The only reason I know he's alive is because his youngest sister would tell me if he wasn't! For five years it's been eating me alive not knowing what I did wrong that he couldn't even text me goodbye!"

Deftly avoiding being cut off by a suit with a bad case of road rage, Amanda replied. "Francine, we might not agree on much, and sometimes we don't get along, but you are one of the smartest, bravest, and strongest women I have ever known, and you've always had my utmost respect. If you ask me, I'd say anyone who would treat you that way isn't worth your tears. Save them for someone who knows what everyone who values you knows, you're worth only the smartest bravest, and strongest people in your life."

"Thank you, I mean it," she whispered. Straightening herself in the seat and reaching for the water bottle she continued. "Lee said the same thing to me. I've always thought of you two as oil and water, but it's uncanny. Anyway, a year later I was pickling my liver, and Lee nearly ate his gun after Eric was killed. So, we ended up together for a few weeks. He got me off the bottle, I kept him from any self-harm, and for a minute I thought maybe it was real. Then when he knew I wouldn't be going back to the bottle it was, 'hasta la vista kiddo,' that was way before you showed up though."

'As Jamie would say, total Luke and Leia thing,' Amanda thought. Lee had told her his side of it a long time ago, so nothing surprised her. "Thanks, for trusting me, Francine," she answered, sensing the conversation was over.

"Don't get used to it," Francine warned.

"Wouldn't even dream of it," Amanda smiled.

Amanda's breath caught in her throat as she pulled into the long driveway of Le Palais des Ombres, an early Victorian mansion off Dupont converted into the burlesque club twenty years ago. Eleven years ago, she'd trotted through the club, swept up in the backstage hustle helping girls get into and out of costumes, dreaming of her future with Joe, and blithely imagining an ordinary life. 'Funny how an ex with a savior complex, unexpected twins, and one of them having a brain tumor changes things,' she thought. The past ten years had obliterated any notion that life was meant to be ordinary, not after going to war to make sure Jamie had a life to live. Certainly not after Lee had handed her a package and she willingly jumped into the extraordinary. Still, a very small piece of her heart mourned the loss of such innocence.

"Amanda, are you okay?" Francine asked.

"I suddenly realized how much my life isn't what I thought it would be the last time I was here," Amanda answered, still distracted by memories.

"See what happens when you accept packages from strange men," Francine chuckled.

"Well, to be fair my expectations dissolved long before that!" Amanda smiled. "I think helping Lee was the best risk I ever took," she winked.

"It did set the universe on a new axis," Francine shrugged.

Deciding not to wonder if the blond's comment was sarcasm or a compliment, Amanda pulled around to the back entrance and parked. "Ms. Collins, should be through here."

The two women entered through the back kitchen and Francine began mapping all the entrances and exits. Her icy blue eyes landing on three bartenders, 'Postgraduates: Poly-sci, Theater, Mathematics,' four bouncers: 'One former Green Beret, one former Army Ranger, one former SEAL, one former Staff Sargent,' a waitress: 'English major definitely a wallflower, in love with the Green Beret,' the hall narrowed a bit. 'Potential chokehold,' she marveled at Amanda's naturalness, her gait changed from active mother and overeager agent to something much smoother, her center of gravity shifted lower into her hips and thighs. It never occurred to Francine that the wholesome mother could move so sensually.

Another opening led to what would have been the Housekeeper's office where Francine spotted a man of average height and slender build. 'Not a bouncer, or bartender,' Francine thought.

"Little Amanda West, as I live and breathe you cannot possibly be the mother of twins entering the double-digits!" the man exclaimed. "You look gorgeous, honey," he reached out to embrace her.

"Hey Sal, it's been so long, and you haven't changed a bit. And yes, I am indeed the mother of twins that are entering the double-digits and it's killing me!"

"I hear you fought hard to make sure both your boys got there, little chick, we hear from your Kappa sisters from time-to-time. Particularly Miss Kitty," Sal replied.

"Before I tell you my life story, Sal, this is a dear friend of mine from my job, Ms. Francine Drummond, this is Sal," Amanda introduced.

"A pleasure," Sal greeted offering his hand.

"Likewise," Francine returned, letting a hint of her native bayou accent slip into her voice.

"Sal is the taskmaster here, Francine, he keeps everyone doing their jobs. He's Ms. Collins' right hand man, and nobody dares cross him," Amanda explained.

"You still can't call her Jeanne, Amanda? You're not an eighteen-year-old ingénue anymore," Sal laughed.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "First you say I'm gorgeous, then remind me I'm on the wrong side of thirty! You always were a phony, Sal!" she giggled.

"Stop, little chick!" Sal laughed, throwing his arm around Amanda's shoulders. "Oh, I've missed your unvarnished sincerity! Okay, enough play. Jeanne is on a call, but I haven't seen my honey so happy on a Monday morning in over a year. Your call made her giddy I tell you."

Amanda flushed a bloom of red spread across her cheeks, nose, and neck. "I'm honestly surprised you both remember me," she mumbled.

A warm rich feminine voice answered. "You think we would forget the best Freshman in our theater class we ever had? Really, Amanda, you wound me, little chick."

Amanda's smile blazed like a comet. "I was only your student one semester, Ms. Collins," she answered as she was pulled into the older woman's arms.

"You were genuinely talented, open, curious, intelligent, with a desire to bring people joy and to make them think. We couldn't forget you any more than we could live without music," Jeanne Collins stated.

Francine felt a smile pulling at her lips and continued her appraisal of the environment. 'Jeanne Collins, from Quebec one parent from Paris, English definitely a second or possibly third language. Sharp, and much stronger than she looks.'

"Ms. Collins, I'd like you to meet Francine Drummond, she's a very dear friend from my job," Amanda introduced.

"It's a pleasure, dear, any friend of our little chick, is welcome here at any time and no cover charge," Jeanne greeted.

"Why thank you, Ms. Collins!" Francine cooed. "I must admit I've never been to a place like this, and when Amanda asked me to come for moral support, I just got so excited."

"Well, then I'll give you the private tour!" Sal grinned, turning to peck Jeanne's cheek he added. "Darling, you and little chick deal with all the boring business then send her backstage to me." Francine, his arm to Francine he chirped. "This way, Miss Drummond, but you can't tell anyone how the magic happens."

"I'm a master at keeping secrets," Francine drawled, dramatically sweeping away.

"Come, little chick, let's talk in my office," Jeanne sighed, guiding Amanda into her sanctum.

Amanda's eyes widened as she entered the room that seemed to defy the passage of time. She smelled the same lavender and vanilla from an ever-present burning candle. The same wonderful book smell that permeated her soul with peace. The same plants, much larger and as gorgeous as ever. The same divine rococo desk she'd sat in front of for hours with Jeanne and Sal discussing the plays of Paul Martinet, the footstool where she'd rested her casted shattered foot, and sobbed for her father and the death of her innocent dreams, the same cognac leather chairs that cradled sore muscles after hours of rehearsals.

"Nothing has changed," she whispered in awe.

"Well, the computer has, little chick. But why fix what isn't broken?" Jeanne laughed. "Come, let us have some tea and talk about this properly," she directed her with a firm glance.

Amanda went to her accustomed seat on autopilot while Jeanne poured two cups of Earl Grey into porcelain teacups, sweetening Amanda's as she had years ago. Amanda smiled as she reached for her cup. "I've missed this more than I can say."

Jeanne smiled and sat in her plush purple velvet wingback. "You are always welcome, Amanda you know that. Now, why don't you tell me what made you into such a stranger and what happened to make you need money so desperately."

A wave of guilt washed over Amanda as she stared into the depths of her teacup. "I regret I didn't keep in touch. You were so kind when daddy died and I decided not to pursue the theater, I know it disappointed you and Sal—"

"No, Amanda!" Jeanne cut in. "We were never disappointed! That accident was a horrific tragedy and we completely understood why you made the choices you made. All Sal and I ever wanted for you was to heal and have a good life. If you've stayed away out of some misguided sense of disappointing us, nothing could be further from the truth."

Tears filled Amanda's eyes and she sipped the tea to regain her composure. "You were so right about everything though," she gasped. "You were so right about Joe, and his need to be a hero, how he couldn't be content little things adding up into big things. After we were married, we weren't even back from our honeymoon before the morning sickness hit, and he was so disappointed. His grand plans were thrown into chaos and then Jamie's tumor—"

"We would have been there for you, Phillip, and Dotty, little chick! We would have shut down the club, taken sabbaticals, and been with your family every step of the way," Jeanne insisted, her accent thickening with every word.

"But I failed!" Amanda cried out. "After all you did for me, all the advice I should have listened to, I failed! My marriage crumbled into dust and all I could think about was keeping Jamie alive and how if only I had listened to you—" her grief overcame her as the tears escaped.

"Oh, little chick," Jeanne soothed, reaching across her desk to hold the younger woman's hands. "You loved Joe honestly, and truly, it isn't your fault that he loves his dreams more. I only told you qualities I saw in him, but I didn't believe he would leave you and his own babies like he did, especially with Jamie so ill. You did nothing wrong; you did not fail! I never thought you were wrong marrying Joe. I wanted to be wrong!"

Amanda reached into her purse for some tissues. "Thank you," she sniffled. "I also didn't want to put you and Sal through watching Jamie suffer, you both had already gone through that with Adele," she sighed.

"Have I or have I not told you thousands of times that being kind to others shouldn't make you unkind to yourself?" Jeanne demanded with heavy breath.

"Yes, you have," Amanda meekly answered.

Jean walked to a bookshelf, removing an ornate gilded frame, and handed it to Amanda. Then she sat down in her seat and pierced Amanda with her warm blue gaze. "I'll never forget that day," she whispered.

"Neither will I," Amanda agreed, raising her hand to the brilliant smiling face of the little girl in the photo, stopping just short of touching the glass. "I keep my copy in the boys' room, so they can know her a little."

"Yet, she of all people would have wanted our family to be there for you, Dotty, Phillip, and Jamie, little chick," Jeanne squeezed Amanda's hand again. "My baby was obsessed with chicks so what did you do, you found the closest farm to the hospital and arranged a picnic for us, and Adele got to play with dozens of them! You gave my daughter the happiest day in her life, and you held us as she died in our arms. Amanda, when will you learn to receive as much as you give!"

"I'm learning, I swear I am!" Amanda answered, wiping a tear from her mentor's face.

"I hope so, my dear. When you called this morning, I went out of my mind with joy. You have no idea how much we've missed you! Still, I can't understand why you need money so urgently."

Amanda sat more comfortably in her chair. She hadn't expected to find closure with her fractured past but, she realized that it would have never happened without Lee coming into her life. 'I truly have learned to receive,' she thought in wonder. "Well, Joe does pay child support, and that's never been an issue, but I've just started a fulltime position at my job, and the paperwork for the health and dental plan hasn't come through yet, and at Phillip's teeth cleaning last week they said his next set of molars might be all twisted coming in and if they were it would cost fifteen hundred dollars to fix it. Joe doesn't make a great deal with the EAO, and until the paperwork comes through at work, I won't have enough to cover it," Amanda explained. "Although I know my foot would never last an entire gig, I've kept in shape, taught the boys everything I know, and done every school show they've ever had. I thought one dance here with tips could cover it, in case the paperwork is too late.

Jeanne nodded with a smile on her lips from her protégée's familiar ramble. "Where are you working now, little chick?"

"International Federal Film, IFF for short. We make documentaries commissioned by and for the government. Hence, the reason the paperwork the new family health and dental plan is bogged down in red tape," Amanda grinned.

"Sal and I watched their series on earthworms and organic gardens, absolutely fascinating, but then we've always liked to play in the dirt," Jeanne laughed.

"Those are some of my favorites too! I'm an assistant to one of their directors. I help in research and interviews,"

"And Miss Drummond?"

"Oh, she's a production assistant who oversees wardrobe, hair, makeup, and keeping everyone on task. I suppose you could say she's our Sal, without the PhD."

"Well, I am glad you brought a friend for backup. Once the club is full, I won't be able to keep track of you. As you born Americans say, I try to run a clean joint, but I can't guarantee a rotten apple won't appear in the barrel."

"Francine is definitely someone I trust to have watching my back," Amanda assured.

Francine found herself genuinely enjoying her guided tour around the club. Sal and Jeanne obviously put their number one priority on the safety of their employees and patrons. The grand ballroom retained all the splendor of its heyday, yet the floor remained open every angle boasted clear sightlines, whether at the bar, tables, or the booths. 'Great for the club, bad for drops,' she thought.

"Don't let the see and be seen architecture fool you, Miss Drummond. When the lights go down, and the curtain is up every person feels like it's their own private show," Sal remarked.

She felt her eyebrow raise at the man's seeming insight into her thoughts. "You'll have to forgive me, Sal," Francine demurred, tucking a lock of her golden hair behind her ear. "I'm a production assistant for a documentary film company. My job is to give people the real deal, illusions aren't my expertise."

Sal led her to the orchestral balcony. "Interesting, a lot of my former students wanted to get into film and T.V. What company do you and little chick work for," he asked with a jovial smile.

"International Federal Film, affectionately dubbed IFF by those of us that toil," Francine chuckled.

"Oh, fabulous!" Sal cheered. "Jeanne and I are huge gardeners, so the special about the earthworms was brilliant. Our boarders have been obscenely lush since we took all those tips to make those suckers happy."

Francine couldn't help but cringe, worms brought back bad memories of snakes. "Well, I'm not good with the creepies and the crawlies myself," she drawled. "So, I count myself lucky that I didn't pull that assignment. I was a part of the team that did an in-house docuseries on flight crews. I helped make sure the uniforms were right, the equipment, props, hair, makeup, stuff like that. Sometimes if money is super tight, I help with blocking and lighting."

"Sounds like my job!" Sal laughed. "Davey, come here!" he called out.

'Tech geek, postgrad, couldn't win a fight if he tried!'

"Yeah, Sal," the young man answered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Drummond, meet Davey Finn, our answer to Industrial Light and Magic. Davey, Miss Drummond of IFF. She can't quite believe we turn this spectacle box into a cozy private box," Sal introduced.

"Pleasure, Mr. Finn!" Francine greeted with a sweet smile.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Drummond," Davey replied. "I assure you, with my laptop the LED recess lights all over the ceiling and all the curtains coming down tonight, you'll feel like you're in a one room apartment in Brooklyn."

"Wow!" she breathed out in a rush. 'Leatherneck's program better not knock out the laptop.' "If you can do that you must make the dancers look better than Hollywood. We have such tight budgets at IFF that I'm afraid that some of our presenters and interviewees look like the undead."

"Well, it's my job to make everyone and everything in the place look fantastic," Davy grinned. "But I admit I give my wife preferential treatment," he grinned.

Sal threw his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Daisy doesn't need it, but you know Jeanne and I let you get away with murder for love!" Turning his full attention back to Francine he added. "Daisy is our lead guitarist and singer, for the girls who don't have the pipes."

"Sounds like this is a real family operation," Francine rejoined without even a hint of condescension.

"Family is everything, Miss Drummond," Sal stated in a deathly serious voice at total odds with his casual dramatics.

"Miss Drummond, you didn't go to UVA did you," Davey asked with a gentle smile.

"No, UCLA girl," Francine admitted.

"So, you haven't heard the Profs' lecture on the history of women's economics in the theater; but long story short, women have supported families by treading the boards for millennia. So, yeah family is the name of the game around here," Davey explained.

"Speaking of family," Sal interrupted. "You remember Amanda West, Davey?"

"My sister's favorite Kappa sister, and my one-time dream girl. Yep, I remember her, but isn't she Amanda King?"

"I prefer to ignore that fact," Sal groaned. "Anyway, she'll be dancing tonight for dentistry. Here's her choreography, and light her with the same care and attention you would Jeanne and Daisy."

"Excuse me!" Francine interjected. "May I ask a few questions?"

"Well, you just did, but Davey and I can spot you four more," Sal chuckled.

"Okay, wise guy!" Francine rolled her eyes. "First question, can people reserve tables or is this a strictly walk-in club?"

"We've done several large parties, very few people bother to book tables in advance, that's not to say we wouldn't do it," Sal answered.

"How do tips work?"

"We absolutely forbid either the performers or the patrons to touch each other! This is not a strip club, we don't do lap dances, we don't even do strip teases!" Sal growled. "That's not to say tips are out just that we have strict rules how to collect. If a patron wants to leave a tip, then they leave the amount on the table with the name of the performer on a napkin. After the set, the lead dancer collects the money and gives it out to the recipients' backstage."

"Prof, don't forget that spouses and fiancée's can touch," Davey laughed.

"Miss Drummond, does that answer your questions?"

"Just one more, how do enforce all the rules?"

"How many lights do you think are in this room?" Davey asked with a smirk.

'One hundred eighty-seven!' "Oh, I couldn't begin to guess!" Francine laughed.

"Well for every light, there's two cameras controlled by yours truly," Davey assured.

'Blast, blast, blast, blast!' "That's amazing, and just a little creepy."

"Well, while we love to create artistic illusions and fantasy here, the truth is we have to protect the good people from those who want use the shadows for bad things," Sal explained.

"Sometimes good things happen in shadows too," Francine sighed. 'And while I applaud the intentions your camera system could destroy this entire drop!'

Before either man could respond to her challenge the little waitress, she'd named Wallflower came scurrying up the gallery. "Dave! Daisy needs you; Chad came in wasted reeking of smoke and Cheetos and now she's collapsed and throwing up!" she reported, anxiously twisting her fingers.

"Crap! I'll kill him," the young man snarled.

Sal rolled his eyes. "Go to your wife! I'll handle Chad, and for God's sake don't talk like that to her. Miss Drummond, I apologize for the drama, but every family has a problem child," he sighed, offering his arm to escort her back to the floor.

"This is nothing, you should see some of the guys I work with when the circus comes to town," Francine chuckled. 'I might as well record the layout while getting free entertainment.'

An hour later, Francine shocked everyone, but especially herself, by driving the wagon back to IFF without Amanda. Lee met her in the foyer with murder in his eyes. "Francine, what the hell were you thinking leaving her there!" he roared.

Turning her very best glare on him, she brayed right back. "First of all, you don't talk to me like that Scarecrow! I would never leave a fellow agent in danger! Second, the bouncers there are all former Special Forces! Third, they have a camera set up that makes the UN look like the corner drug store! Fourth and finally, Amanda told me to come back to finish the set up with you, while she and Jeanne work out her routine so she can walk tomorrow! She's safer there than at the Kennedy Center with a Presidential audience!"

"If you two are going to shout like toddlers, do it outside my office," Mrs. Marsten demanded.

"No more shouting," Francine answered. "I'm going to my desk, to put my purse away, and I will meet you back in Q, Lee."

"Fine!" Lee answered still annoyed. "Sorry, Mrs. Marsten," he added.

Francine strode to her desk in the power walk that warned the entire bullpen not to get in her way. Just as she threw her purse on the desk, she saw it. A crystal vase filled with yellow tulips, purple irises, and ivy. Her heart sped up as she took the card and read it. 'W.O.U. one dinner at The Blue Fox! For the best pal in the world. L. A. & T.P. PS. Waste not thy tears on the unworthy.'

"Sometimes, Scarecrow, you really are too damned cute for my sanity," she muttered.

"Desmond, how did it go?" Billy called out to her.

"Great, Boss, Amanda's in and everything should work out fine!" she answered.