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Daniel rang the Ring doorbell to his own home with his elbow, his hands filled with takeout from his father-in-law's Manhattan restaurant.

Betty was taking forever. But Harry and Hermione were there right away, barking their little heads off and scratching at the door. If only they knew how to open it . . . He leaned into his Apple Watch.

"Hey, Siri. Call Betty," he requested.

"A Yeti is a term for an Abominable Snowman," Siri replied.

Daniel sighed in frustration.

"Hey, Siri. Call Bet-Ty," he tried again.

"I'm sorry. I do not know if you are sweaty," Siri answered. "Would you like me to find stores near you selling deodorant?"

Daniel groaned.

"All these years later and they still haven't perfected simple AI . . ." he grumbled and struggled to ring the doorbell with his elbow again.

A few minutes later, Betty opened the door.

"Daniel, why the hell did you keep ringing the doorbell?" she asked, annoyed. "Did you forget your key again?"

"No, my hands were full and I wasn't sure you heard or saw me the first time. What took you so long?" he questioned, frustrated. "I thought you'd at least hear Harry and Hermione barking."

"You try going down two flights of stairs and a million different hallways, plus gating off two hyper puppies, right after throwing up your lunch. We need a map to navigate this place," Betty replied. "And by the way, I think I'm done with pickles for a while."

"I'm sorry, Baby. When you have your appointment next week, we probably need to ask about anti-nausea medication," Daniel told her.

"I'm fine. It's nothing that I can't handle," she assured him and grabbed one of the two large paper grocery bags.

"No! Betty, these bags are heavy. You're weak right now from being sick. Let me get them," he insisted and took it back. "How many people did your dad think we were feeding?"

"Just three . . . actually four if you count the baby. And I wanted enough leftovers for a midnight snack," she smiled.

"Are we having a baby or a whale?" he smirked.

"Shut up," she playfully bumped him with her hip and shoulder as they walked side-by-side through the large high ceiling foyer into their kitchen.

"Did you talk to Detective Averaimo?" Daniel asked, taking the food out of the bags.

"I did. And he confirmed what Conner told us," she responded, drinking a diet ginger ale and popping some Tums in her mouth. "What about your lawyer?"

"She said Mom should temporarily transfer her assets to someone else until Peter Cameron either shows his true colors or proves he's changed," he answered.

"That sounds logical, but convincing Claire to actually do it is another story . . ." she replied.

"True," Daniel said as he apprehensively looked at his watch. "Mom should be here any minute."

"Are you gonna to be okay?" Betty asked.

He nodded.

"Just act normal, okay? Like it's a typical dinner with your mom. No pressure. Then we can organically ease into the subject of Peter Cameron and protecting herself and her finances," Betty told him, putting her empanadas in the fridge for later.

"Right. We're just hanging out in our new home, having dinner with Mom," Daniel nervously repeated.

"I'll be right here the whole time," she assured him with a loving kiss. "Focus on that, if you feel the urge to freak out."

"What would I do without you?" he smiled and wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"You're lucky you never have to find out," Betty teased.


"Claire! I'm so glad you came!" Betty greeted her mother-in-law with a hug.

"Hi, Mom," Daniel said, hugging his mother.

"Hello, Dear," Claire told her son.

"Did you find it okay?" Betty asked.

"Yes, I did. It's lovely, Sweetheart! May I have a tour?" she asked, curious to explore the $7.9 million three story, seven bedroom, seven bath, finished basement, 7,200 sqft. elegant Upper West Side Manhattan townhouse.

Daniel opened up the gate to let Harry and Hermione out. They bolted straight for Claire, barking, wagging, and shaking their tails, happily.

"Ooohhh . . . Hello, Harry . . . Hello, Hermione! You're both so precious I could take you home with me! Yes I could!" Claire smiled the biggest smile as she greeted their tri-colored Shetland Sheepdog and red sable and cream Pomeranian. "I've always wanted another dog, since Trixie . . . In fact, I'm going to get one for myself soon. Or if you haven't already purchased my Christmas present, Daniel, that's a hint. A Pomeranian."

Daniel breathed a sigh of relief that she didn't want another chihuahua. He loved dogs, but that thing was a nightmare! Granted, Tyler and Amanda had had good intentions in getting their mother a companion from a shelter, since all of her children had moved to Europe. However, Trixie the long-haired chihuahua hated anyone and everyone who wasn't Claire. She would incessantly bark, lunge, jump, growl and bite at anyone who attempted to get near her or Claire. Anytime they visited, Trixie had to be put in another room.

"Sure, Mom! That's a great idea – right, Betty?" Daniel replied and encouraged his wife to chime in.

"Of course! A Pomeranian would be perfect for you – two actually. They'll keep each other company and out of trouble when you're not at home. We rescued Harry and Hermione from a puppy mill that was shut down. I'll look on some rescue websites for you," Betty told her. "Hey, Daniel? We'll be back in a few minutes. I'm gonna show your mom around. Could you please go set the table?"

"No problemo! Paper plates, right?" he gave her a thumbs up.

"Daniel . . ." Betty gave him a look.

"I'm joking, Baby!" Daniel defended, wrapping his arms around her from behind as he smiled and kissed his wife's cheek. "I know we found the good china yesterday."

"You mean I found it. You took an entire hour unpacking one box of blankets, because you were too distracted by the football game. Aiden and Bella were better help," she shook her head in amusement.

"Hey - I unpacked two more during halftime, three after, made dinner, and put the kids to bed," he reminded her.

"That's true. You more than made up for it, Babe," Betty agreed, giving him a well-deserved peck on the lips.

"It's so wonderful and refreshing watching you two together! Right about this time in our marriage, Bradford was out chasing skirts and hiring secretaries who gave dictation . . ." Claire recalled.

"Mom, please!" Daniel cringed. Sometimes his mother reminded him of Amanda – no filter.

"Daniel, darling, stop being so sensitive!" Claire scoffed. "We're all adults here. And your wife was hired as your assistant to prevent you from continuing to do those very same things. I meant it as a compliment to you and Betty. Here you are at almost fourteen years of marriage, still madly in love with each other, with successful careers, two beautiful children, and another baby on the way . . . Where are my sweet little grandchildren?"

"Hilda and Bobby are watching them tonight," Daniel replied.

"We thought it would be easier for us to talk. But let me show you our house first," Betty explained, nervously looking back at Daniel, then took Claire's arm and guided her through their new home. Being herding dogs, Harry and Hermione eagerly followed them.


"It's simply gorgeous, Betty! You and my son did a wonderful job of selecting the perfect home for yourselves," Claire exclaimed.

"Thank you!" Betty smiled. "I still can't believe how big it is! My dad's entire house plus my old apartment here would fit and there'd still be room left! Anyway, like I said, it needs a few changes – new tile in two of the bathrooms and in the hallway, and the red carpet on the stairs needs to go. Plus, I think the walls need a little color to them. I promised Daniel I wouldn't go nuts, though."

"What did you promise me?" Daniel asked as they entered the formal dining room, the dogs right behind them.

"Nothing. Just that I'd paint the walls your favorite shade of purple – you know, like my Yves Saint Laurent scarf?" Betty teased.

"Don't even joke about it, Suarez-Meade! We agreed – neutral colors only, except in the kids' rooms," Daniel playfully warned.

"Michael Kors is calling purple the new pink . . ." she countered.

"Yeah, in fashion – not interior design," Daniel remarked. "Look, I'll buy you everything from their new line. But Betty, please don't make me come home to a place that looks like a big dinosaur threw up all over it!"

Betty burst out laughing at the sight of Daniel's panicked face.

"Relax, Meade! I was only kidding," she giggled. "I'm not the only one who's still cute when they're freaking out."

"Am I?" Daniel gave his wife a sexy grin and for a moment it was as if they were the only two people in the room.

Claire cleared her throat and they finally snapped back to reality.

"Sorry . . . Have a seat, Claire!" Betty gestured, blushing.

"There's no need to apologize. You two are so entertaining they should give you your own television show," her mother-in-law replied, thoroughly amused.

Betty and Daniel both smiled sheepishly at each other.

"What is that amazing smell?" Claire asked, changing the subject.

"Casa de Papi's! My dad put something together for us from his restaurant," Betty answered. "There are cheese and onion enchiladas with hatch green chile con queso, chipotle chicken fajitas, ground beef tacos – crunchy and soft, rice, black beans, chips, salsa, guacamole, sopapillas, his famous mole, and dulce de leche cake for dessert."

"It all looks very appetizing! I never used to like Mexican cuisine that much, until I had your father's cooking. He truly is the best. And how thoughtful of him to make this meal for us, considering how busy he is at his restaurant!" Claire replied.

"Aww . . . Thank you, Claire! I'll pass it along to Papi," Betty replied.

"I recall a time when Bradford and I were first married. We were stuck in Texas on our way back to New York from Los Angeles. The was a blizzard and our flight was redirected. So we rented a car and drove around for a bit. It was lunchtime, and we happened upon this charming little Mexican restaurant called Pancho's. Bradford suggested we try some authentic food, since we were in the area. Anyway, they had the best Mexican food I'd ever tasted," Claire remembered. "And anytime you needed more of an item, you could raise the miniature Mexican flag on the table and the waitstaff would bring you anything from the buffet you desired. After our dining experience there, I tried to find an equivalent here in New York, but was unsuccessful . . . until I had your father's cooking."

"Did you say Pancho's?" Betty asked. "Shut. Up! That's one of Papi's uncle's restaurants!"

"Well no wonder I could taste the similarities! The recipes run in the family," Claire exclaimed. "Although I'm sure your father has taken a few liberties and added his own twist to few things, being the incredible chef he is."

Betty nodded.

"Wow! That's an amazing coincidence!" Daniel remarked. "You know, I never thought of Dad being that adventurous. I'm surprised he didn't immediately call a cab and go directly to a five star hotel to order room service."

"Yes, well, Bradford was full of wonderful surprises when we were younger," Claire lovingly mused, placing some of the food on her plate as it was passed around. "I think I'll start with a cheese enchilada, sopapilla, and some rice. Peter has been trying to convince me to eat less meat. Did you know there are a lot of alternatives out there? The Impossible brand has wonderful plant-based ground beef as well as faux breaded chicken."

"I haven't been paying a lot of attention to it, but that sounds like a good idea! Better for the animals!" Betty remarked, filling her plate with a little of everything. "My dad's been looking for new ways to expand on the vegetarian section of his menu. He might want to use that and experiment with some new recipes."

"It's also better for a person's health and better for the environment," Claire added. "Now if they ever develop a satisfying filet mignon, I might consider giving up meat for good."

"That's great, Mom! We'll have to try it sometime . . . Speaking of Peter, I'd like to apologize for the way I acted this morning. I was just surprised by your announcement. We'd both like to hear more about him. What does he do for a living? Does he have any hobbies? Maybe we have something in common?" Daniel carefully began, then took a bite of his fajita.

"Oh, enough bullshitting, Daniel," Claire snapped. "You've never been a very good liar. I know how livid you were with me this morning. You're not truly sorry. And neither am I. First you need to tell me what you and Betty really want to know. Because I'm sure you've already done some digging on your own and I don't want to waste my breath."

"How did you -?" Daniel started to ask.

"I know my children. I know how intelligent and annoyingly protective they are. However, I am a grown woman. I may be older, but I sure as hell am neither senile nor naïve," she insisted. "I can marry whomever I damn well please."

"Claire, Daniel and I aren't trying tell you how to live your life. We're just worried about you. We love you and want to make sure you're okay," Betty replied.

Claire softened.

"I love you, too. And I appreciate your concern, but it's unnecessary. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm happier than I've been in a long time," Claire assured them.

"Could you tell us why you wanted to marry Peter Cameron so soon?" Betty timidly asked, taking a bite of her taco.

"Time. Neither of us have a lot of time left on this earth. Why waste it?" Claire replied.

"You're not dying, are you?" Daniel worried and slowly put down his fork.

"Eventually," she quipped. "But no, Darling, not right now."

"Good!" he and Betty both exclaimed, relieved.

"So you took a chance on marrying someone, even though you barely knew this person?" Betty questioned. "I'd find that terrifying."

"And I find it exhilarating. There's something about the unknown that's so thrilling! Everyday, learning new tidbits of that person that make you adore them even more," Claire smiled. "I feel like I'm in my twenties, again!"

"Daniel and I didn't have a whole lot of that, since we already knew each other so well for so long before we were officially together. But I understand – to a point. It's the little things that make a person so endearing," Betty said. "Only, I'd be afraid to go too fast too soon."

"Yes. Well, when you get older, you'll gain an entirely new perspective on life," Claire told her.

"I hate to ruin your happiness, Mom. It's great that you've found someone. But have you checked your bank account recently?" Daniel asked.

"Daniel . . .!" Betty subtly said through gritted teeth as she glared at her husband and kicked him in the shin, underneath the dining room table.

"Ow! Betty . . .! What the hell was that for?!" he whined, completely obvious.

"I thought we were going to ease into the subject – not hit her over the head with it!" she criticized her husband's bluntness.

"I thought I was?! I told her I was happy she was happy . . ." Daniel defended.

"It's alright, Daniel. As a matter of fact, I checked it this morning. Peter and I are going to the bank tomorrow to set up a joint account, while continuing to keep our own. Let me guess . . . you both think he will drain them all dry?" Claire assumed.

"To be honest, Claire, yes," Betty admitted. "We have legitimate sources saying Peter Cameron has a horrible pattern of doing exactly that . . . and more."

"And what sources might those be?" Claire inquired.

"They wish to remain anonymous. But you know I believe in facts and the truth," Betty answered.

She and Daniel both knew if Conner were brought into the conversation Claire would question the legitimacy of their findings. And Averaimo arrested both of her children.

"Alright. Tell me what these supposed sources know that I don't," Claire reluctantly requested.


"Hey . . . What happened to you? I checked on the puppies and they're fast asleep in the basement. I think Claire's visit wore them out. Anyway, I came up and opened a bottle of wine – sparkling water for me, of course. I thought we could take advantage of an empty home?" Betty came into their bedroom to find Daniel quietly sitting on the edge of the bed. "Oh! I bought something the other day I think you might like . . . Wait here and I'll go try it on!"

"That's okay, Betty. You really don't – have to do that . . ." Daniel said, but she was already gone.

She returned in a slinky black see-through nightie that didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination. If he wasn't so depressed, he'd rip it right off of her and take her in practically every room in their new home.

"What do you do think, Mr. Meade? Are you ready to explore our new home?" she asked as she walked over to her husband, straddled him, removed his shirt, and slowly kissed her way down his chest.

"Um, Betty? I don't really feel like doing this right now," Daniel attempted to tell her, standing them both up.

"Ohh . . . So you wanna play it that way . . . Do you need a doctor, Mr. Sickington? Don't worry . . . I promise before the night is over, I'll do so much more than just nurse you back to health," she coaxed her husband, lightly flicking his earlobe with her tongue then focusing on his neck and shoulder, while she unbuckled his pants and removed them. "We have the entire house to ourselves. We can do it anywhere and everywhere we want, any way we want, and can make as much noise as we want for as long as we want. Just . . . like . . . we . . . used . . . to . . ."

Betty slowly ran her hands over his firm ass and squeezed it.

"Baby, please . . ." he tried again.

"Be patient, Babe. Don't worry, I'll set you free soon," she toyed with band of his tight boxer briefs, about to slip her hands in them, when he gently grabbed ahold of her wrists and pushed them away.

"Betty, stop! As tempting as all this is, - and Baby, believe me, it is - I'm just not in the mood," he told her.

"Wait. You're serious," Betty realized. "Daniel Meade doesn't want to have sex?"

Daniel hung his head down in shame.

"Daniel, you're always in the mood. Even at the most inappropriate times, you're in the mood. Like when you have a cold or the flu? Even worse, you once snuck out of a funeral to bang the director's daughter in the crematorium!" Betty argued.

"Hey! That last one was Old Daniel. And I agree that the funeral home wasn't my finest sexual experience," he admitted.

"Is it me?" Betty questioned. "Am I not inventive enough or spontaneous enough, anymore? Am I not attractive enough for you right now? What am I saying? Of course that's it! I'm constantly shoveling in food or throwing it up . . . I'm gaining weight . . . my hormones are in overdrive . . . the idea of being with me is repulsive to you."

Daniel hated that he was turning his wife down, especially knowing her past insecurities when it came to sex and her body. Over their time together, those fears of inadequacy had faded. Only now, he seemed to have brought them back full force and he hated himself for it.

"Don't ever think that, Betty! You know I can never get enough of you. You're sexy, beautiful, everything that I could ever want and more. I'm the problem right now. I feel like I can't do anything right anymore. I tried to help my mom – tried to make her see what a mistake it is to stay married to that asshole, tried to make her see that he'll break her heart . . . I'm a failure," he said, frustrated.

"Daniel, you are anything but a failure," Betty assured her husband. "You're an amazing son. And you were successful at getting your mother to agree to transfer her assets to someone she can trust, until we know for sure if Cameron's changed his ways or not. That's big!"

"I guess so . . ." Daniel sighed, unconvinced.

"Okay, there's something more you're not telling me," Betty assumed. "It's because you think that she doesn't trust you enough to have that responsibility, isn't it?"

Daniel hung his head down. Her emotional Spidey-Sense was impeccable.

"Daniel, I'm sure that's not it at all. She's choosing Christina because she's one of the last people Cameron would assume," she told him.

"I know. And Christina is the perfect person, because we can trust her and yet she's not blood-related to any of us," Daniel said. "We did all we could do for Mom, other than force her to divorce this guy. So why do I feel so incompetent?"

"Maybe because you thought you could convince her to leave Peter Cameron and avoid the impending heartache?" Betty guessed.

"Maybe . . ." he admitted.

"Daniel, it's hard to control your feelings when it comes to love. Could you imagine leaving me, if someone told you I was a gold-digger?" she asked, hypothetically.

"There's no way in hell I would ever leave you, Betty. I wouldn't care what they said," he insisted.

"See," Betty said.

"But you're nothing like this guy. He's a sick, manipulative son of a bitch," Daniel argued.

"Love can make people do crazy things, such as almost burn down their office in front of their entire staff, quit a high profile job and move across an ocean. Or in your mom's case, blindly believe someone even though their eyes, ears, and mind know better," she replied. "And your mom believes she's in love."

"This guy is gonna hurt her, Betty. I should be doing more to protect her," he persisted.

"Daniel, you can't always fix everything," Betty reminded him. "You can't physically keep your mom away from Peter Cameron. She has to make her own decisions, even though I know how much you want to stop her from making a mistake. And Cameron's not your employee, so you can't fire him or give him a bad reference, like you did to both Henry and Gio."

"Yeah, but I could beat the shit out of him," Daniel suggested.

"Daniel, as much as I would love for you to do that - just pummel his ass into oblivion - you and I both know it could have major repercussions. We have our family to think about and this guy operates like a mob boss," she warned.

"This is a nightmare!" he groaned, flopping down on the bed. "And all we can do is sit back and wait."

"I know," Betty agreed, rubbing his thigh in sympathy.

"Betty? Will you do me a favor?" Daniel asked.

"Anything, Daniel," she replied.

"Will you just hold me?" he requested.

She gave him a bittersweet smile.

"C'mere," she said, taking him in her arms as they settled in bed under the covers. She gently kissed his lips, then rested her head on his chest and held him.

"Tighter," he said, wrapping his arms around hers.

She strengthened her grip.

"It'll be okay, Babe. I promise," Betty told him. "I'm here . . . Always."