Scene 1

"I think I'm pregnant, Michael."

Michael froze, his hands still buried in Sara's hair, unable to speak. Sara kept her eyes closed, but a few tears escaped.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked in a whisper so quiet it took Michael several seconds to react.

"No... God... No, how could I be angry?"

Michael pulled Sara close and held her protectively against him.

"You weren't saying anything. I thought you were angry."

"I don't know what to feel. It's not anger."

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Have you seen a doctor?"

"Our doctor is a personal friend of my parents, and my father keeps all the medical cards. Anyway, I don't know how I could get out of the house. There's no excuse now that school's over."

"Well... if you could find an excuse I'm sure Laidey would see you."

"And she's..."

"Close family friends, the Flynns? She's not a Flynn anymore, she got married, but she's a doctor. Maternity. Do you think you'll be able to get out of the house?"

"My father mentioned once... last year, I think... that if I got a job I should try to see if I could get one myself instead of working for him at the store."

"Could you convince him?"

"I don't know, maybe, but even if I could I wouldn't be able to call you beforehand."

"That's fine. I'll talk to Laidey. She'd fit you in if she knew the situation. And I can get you a job interview at MI if you want."

"I don't want hand-outs, Michael. I want to get a job by myself, not because my boyfriend asked his daddy."

"My father has nothing to do with hiring at the Victoria office. I can just make sure your resume goes on top of the pile of interview candidates."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"I know. Don't worry.

Scene 2

Andrew and Flynn sat slumped on the sofa in Andrew's bachelor apartment, neither really watching the program on TV. As the commercials came on Andrew rose to take their empty ice cream bowls to the kitchen sink. The silence between them became uncomfortable, and Flynn could only feign interest in the Huggies commercial for so long.

"Have you heard from Lou recently? She always waits for us to call her, and then it's usually Mom or Dad." Flynn suddenly rose after saying it, walking to the kitchen and sticking her head in the fridge to avoid Andrew's questioning eye.

"I called her last night. She's getting pretty restless up there."

"It's Port Alice, do you blame her? I've been there."

"I spent a winter there, Flynn, I know." He turned from the sink to look at her, seeing only the top of her head. "You can stop looking, there's nothing in there."

Flynn hesitated for a moment before slowly straightening her back and shutting the fridge door. She stood staring at its mustard yellow façade for a moment longer before finally turning to look at Andrew face to face.

"Why didn't you come to me for help if you were having trouble in Poli Sci?"

Flynn sighed and turned back into the living room, this time taking the easy chair with its back to the kitchen. Andrew shook his head and watched her for a moment, then crossed the room and leaned on the back of her chair to look down on the top of her head. She could only ignore him for so long.

"It's going to sound stupid, but I had my pride."

"You're right, it sounds stupid. God, Flynn, you didn't have to sleep with him. You could have asked me if you were having trouble with the work."

"You know damn well we always compete for marks. You don't know how bad I was doing."

"So you slept with Ross?"

"I didn't bring it up at first, he did."

"So, what? He just said, 'Sleep with me and I'll make sure you get your A'?"

"Stop it, Andrew."

"What, then?"

"You wouldn't understand how hard it is for me. I'm the only one not following the family legacy. Dad, Laidey, Malcolm, Jackson—they're all doctors and Lou's a nurse. They've always known what they wanted to be. I think maybe public relations, and I can't even pass a course in Political Science."

"Still, Flynn... and your sister's husband?"

Flynn pushed herself from the chair and spun around to face him. "God, Andrew, do you think that's not tearing me apart? You know me better than that. It's why I'm so upset."

"I'm sorry, Flynn. Here." He stepped toward her and led her to sit next to him on the couch. "But you know you have to put an end to it. Sooner or later the truth will come out."

"I already did. Today. He was just so... crude... dismissive and nonchalant."

"Will he say anything?"

"He has more reason to keep quiet about it than I do. He'd lose his family and his job. But..."

"What?"

"How do I see Laidey and Sunny without seeing him? I can't look at either of them anymore."

"You'll get over it in time."

"You don't know that. That's just something people say when they know there's no way out."

"There are no other answers, Flynn."

"Yeah, but there should be."

"Well, if this were the Old West I'd call him out for you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Flynn glanced up at the clock, nearly midnight. "Oh God, I gotta go. Mom wants to go to church tomorrow, if you can imagine."

"I'll drive you."

"Andy, I can take the bus. I don't have a stalker."

"I'm worried about you."

"I took the bus before you knew about all this. You don't need to drive fifteen minutes there and fifteen back."

"Take my car yourself then. I'll take the bus and pick it up tomorrow."

Flynn stood then and began walking toward the door. Andrew followed her and fished his keys out of his jacket pocket on the coat rack, then handed them to her.

"Don't worry, I have an extra set."

"Thanks." She gave him a weak smile, and gently put her hand on his arm for a moment. "And thanks for being there. I'm glad I don't have to hold it in anymore."

"Any time, you know that."

Flynn nodded. "I know. I'll see you."

Scene 3

In the darkness of the Marshall family home, Michael quietly slipped into the spacious kitchen. Enough light was shed by the moon that he didn't bother to flip on a light. From the fridge he pulled a wrapped plate of leftover pork chops and he stood at the counter eating them with his fingers.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you how to use a knife and fork?"

The voice startled Michael, and he looked up to find his father standing in the doorway. He frowned momentarily before letting out a light chuckle.

"Yes, but Aunt Grace taught me that manners can be forgotten during a late-night raid of the fridge."

"She still does that?"

"Sometimes, but not so much for the last ten years or so."

Pierce smiled. "She and I would do that when I was your age. My father thought it was ridiculous but of course Granddad was still around to set him straight. Even his parents when I was really young." He walked to the fridge and pulled out two bottles. "Beer?"

"Really?"

"Legal drinking ages also don't matter during a late night fridge raid. Once you reach a certain age, of course."

"Not Aunt Grace?"

"The same. She's quite the woman."

Pierce opened both bottles and passed one to his son. "What are you doing home? I thought the party went on till dawn."

"It does."

"So? Why aren't you there? You only get to do it once."

"I had more important things to do."

Pierce raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Something else you only get to do once?"

Michael frowned, then nodded in understanding. "Already happened a few months ago."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you to talk about it."

"I wouldn't have told you anyway, Dad. Jeez."

Pierce laughed. "No, I suppose not. But I am sorry. And I want you to know... I've been wrong for a long time. I know that now. You say my absence didn't hurt you, but I know it did. I called it business, but I was just running away. It hurt your mother, too."

"Mom is very mad at you."

"She has every right to be. But I'm telling you, it's all going to change. I want to change it before it's too late."

"It might be already."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think she's decided on anything yet, but she has seen a lawyer."

"Oh, is that all? I thought you were going to say she was seeing someone else."

"You've got your work cut out for you."

"Way back when I had quite a way with the ladies. And your mother was in love with me when we married."

"But you weren't."

"I am now, I have been for a while but... I don't know. Any suggestions? I suppose I have been out of the loop for a while."

Michael contemplated the question while finishing off the last little pork chop, and began to answer while throwing away the bones and putting the plate in the sink.

"See if you can get her to the beach house. Get lots of candles—short fat ones work best—and put on some good music. There's a great station... number 5 on the preset on that stereo."

"You've done this before."

"A few months ago." Michael smiled, guiltily lowering his head.

"Anyone special?"

"Yeah," Michael replied. He looked up smiled, looking directly into his father's eyes.

Pierce waited for Michael to say more, but nothing came. "And? Anyone I know?"

"No, and it's not my place to say. She wants it kept a secret and I respect that."

"Is she afraid we wouldn't approve of her?"

"No, that her family wouldn't approve of me." Michael didn't continue, but his father's look kept probing for more information. "I'm sorry, Dad, I can't say any more."

Pierce sighed and walked to the sliding door, gazing at nothing in particular on the patio for a long time before turning back to his son.

"Your mother doesn't know about this, and I'd like to keep it that way for the time being. When I was in college, I fell madly in love with a girl. She was about my age, a little younger, but she came from a poor family, working class. She was a waitress in the cafeteria at school, working to put herself through college. We dated for a long time and finally I brought her home with me. Well, you can imagine how my father reacted to that. Your grandmother loved her, but that didn't matter. And not even my grandfather could step in on this one, or so I found out later. Dad was angry the first day, but nice for a whole week. Then she disappeared. Gone in the middle of the night."

"Why?"

"Seems dear ol' Dad convinced her my career would suffer if I married her. Paid her a little money—her father was in trouble, I think—and she went away. Didn't respond to my letters, didn't go back to school. Finally I received a letter from her mother. She was gone, dead."

"That... sucks."

"That's one way to put it. But my point is, I swore to myself then that if any of my children ever got into the same situation, I would support their decisions rather than exercise my own will, even if the no one else agreed."

Michael nodded. "Yeah..." He entered a daze for a moment, lost in thought, but soon shook it off. "Thanks for the beer, Dad, but I don't think I'll be able to finish it tonight. I'm off to bed."

"Good night, son."

"Night, Dad."

Scene 4

"I haven't slept that well in a long time."

Becky Duffy shuffled from the hall into the kitchen of the Avalon home. George and Burke sat at the table in the breakfast nook, their plates set aside as they sipped coffee over sections of the morning paper.

"Or that much, I imagine." George took the plates from the table as he rose from his chair, then set them on the counter before giving Becky a good morning hug. "Sit, I'll make you waffles."

"You don't have to, George. I told you I wouldn't be a bother."

"Making breakfast for my favorite girl is not a bother. I know you don't want to pass up my waffles."

Becky smiled. "Well..."

George gestured to the table. "Sit. This'll only take a minute."

Becky took a seat facing the kitchen, in a chair beside Burke.

"I didn't think you'd still be living here."

"It's big enough for the two of us... and the ladies don't seem to mind." Becky smiled and Burke leaned over to give her a friendly shove. "But really the food's too good." Burke looked down at his paper again and turned a page. "How's Tina?"

"Same as always. Plenty of admirers, but she sees them all at once."

"Have you called her yet?" George lifted the lid on the waffle iron and set the waffle on a plate.

"I don't want to."

"Your mother's influence has worn off on you, Becky. That's something she would say."

"Someone needs to know you're here."

"She'll figure it out."

The phone rang.

"Well isn't that appropriate." Burke stood and headed for the phone. "I'll get it." He reached the phone and looked down at the call display box. "What's the country code for Italy?"

"God," Becky moaned.

"Hello?" Burke took on a generic accent, nodding in confirmation to George and Becky as he listened to the caller. "George Avalon? Here yes is he. Please may I to be asking who calls? ... Tiny Daffy? ... Oh, Tina Duffy! Yes, talks George of you all the time. We laugh and laugh ... Yes, comes he to phone right now." Burke covered the receiver with his hand, and George did the same as he took it. "Sorry, George, I couldn't resist. That woman always grated on my nerves. I have to go, and I'll be late into the restaurant today. I'm spending a few hours with my friend. I'll see you, Becky. Stop in later this afternoon and we'll see about a shift for you."

"He's got a girlfriend he keeps secret," George whispered to Becky after Burke left the room. He lifted the phone to his ear. "Well, Tina, Tina. Isn't it a surprise to hear from you? I understand you just broke up with your boyfriend, my sympathies to you ... Yes, she's here ... Yesterday afternoon ... No, she's staying ... No, she's an adult. I can't force her to do a thing ... Well, I don't want to send her back, either ... No, sorry, I'm afraid she doesn't want to ... No ... Tina ... Tina ... Tina, no I don't think you need to do that ... Because she needs time away from you ... No ... Tina, that's not—" George stamped his foot, sighed, and hung up the phone. "Bloody, overbearing, impulsive witch!" He suddenly looked over at Becky, who was taken aback. "I'm sorry, honey. Like Burke said, she just grates on my nerves."

"Mine too, but I've never heard you talk like that."

"I don't really, not often and I never did it around you, although it was usually just your mother who drove me to it."

"What did she say?"

George exhaled deeply and leaned against the wall, briefly looking away before gazing back at Becky apologetically.

"She's flying out here, next plane."

Scene 5

A sleek, dark, luxury sedan pulled up to a small bank in an old brick building on a relatively quiet street. The driver, a well-dressed man in his fifties, kept the engine running as he ran around to open the back passenger-side door. He offered a helpful arm to the elderly Grace Marshall, who ignored it and stepped out of the car quite well on her own.

"Would you like me to walk you in, ma'am?"

"Thank you, Morris, but I can manage on my own. Why don't you go down to that coffee shop and flirt with that pretty waitress you like so much?" Grace chuckled as Morris blushed and smiled nervously. "Buck up, there's nothing to it. I imagine I'll be all finished in twenty minutes or so."

"Yes, ma'am."

Morris waited until Grace reached the door and waved him off, then drove away. Inside, she confidently walked to the front desk and waited while the receptionist finished with another customer.

"Ah, Ms. Marshall. What can I do for you today?"

"I have an appointment with Mr. Trudmore."

"That's right, I remember now. You can go right on to his office. He doesn't have anyone with him at the moment. Do you know where it is? Oh, wait, I remember that, too." The receptionist smiled. "Eighty years, fifteen managers, the same office. You're my favorite customer, Ms. Marshall, even though I've only been here for three months."

"You're a sweet girl. I'll see you in a bit."

Grace walked past the desk and down a hall, nodding and waving through several office doors as she passed before finally arriving at the manager's door.

"Ms. Marshall, come in, sit." He stood and held her chair as she sat down before shutting the door and retreating to a small fridge to the side of the room. "Would you like a drink? Lemonade?"

"Please."

"It's been a lovely weekend. A welcome change from all the rain, wouldn't you say?"

"Certainly, yes. Oh, thank you." She accepted the glass and took a sip before setting it on the table as Trudmore sat down.

"I must admit I still don't quite believe why you're here."

"It is the right time to do it, Mr. Trudmore, while I'm still healthy enough to do it on my own and before it's too late."

"May I ask why?"

"I will tell you, but I need to know that my family will know nothing of the transaction after... after I have passed."

"Of course. Whoever is in charge of your affairs will only have access to the current state of your accounts, not past transactions."

Grace nodded. "Good. It was—is—a part of my life that is very dear to me, but my family has never known about it. I would like to keep it that way."

Before you go, kindly leave your comments:

Which storyline has you most interested? Michael & Sara's Flynn's affair Becky Duffy's The car accident Aunt Grace's
Which storyline has you least interested? Michael & Sara's Flynn's affair Becky Duffy's The car accident Aunt Grace's

Coming up in Episode 3:

• Pierce's first attempt to make ammends with Arlie goes awry, but with another man in the picture it might be too late anyway.
• Michael and Sara pay a visit to the doctor.
• The car accident in England has two tragic results.

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