I get a call from Marlee the following afternoon regarding the footage that Independent Footage Company sent to her. She calls me in to her office, and Franklin takes me, and is surprised to see Caroline in the office waiting for the two of us. Richard is there, too, giving me a smile from behind the desk, where he stands next to Marlee. I sit on the end, allowing Franklin to sit by Caroline, and Marlee gets to her feet.

"I decided against reviewing the footage without you present, for formality reasons, although Miss Harper here has informed me that she and your brother left the scene of the crime, formally known as The Electric Violin, sometime after ten o'clock. This leads me to believe that this attack didn't take place until after that point." She reaches forward, taking ahold of the knob that will manipulate the time we see on the screen. "There's you talking to what looks to be a couple..."

I nodded. "That's Paul and Stephanie Berkshaw, Richard's brother and sister-in-law," I reply lightly, and Richard smooths his hair back slightly.

"Good, good. You'll forgive me, it's pretty dark in there," she tells me. "I do remember you saying that Paul wasn't really talking to you that night? I know Paul and he don't normally speak much outside work."

I shake my head. "No, you're right about that, Marlee. He's a perfect gentleman, but most of my conversations are with Stephanie. We talked mostly of their son, Harrison, a student in my class."

"Ah, Harrison, sweet boy," she replies, analyzing the screen again as the events of that night unfold. "And there's Nathan approaching you," Marlee says, business-like. "What did he say to the two of you?"

"He asked Stephanie how she was," I replied. "They briefly discussed her love of Pinot Noir and she asked him where it had shipped from."

"Did he give her an answer?" she wants to know.

"Melbourne," I reply.

"And what happened then?" Marlee asks.

"Then he asked if he could steal me for a dance."

"Seems like a harmless enough discussion, I suppose," Marlee says, reworking the system to show the camera above the dance floor. "And there you two are, dancing. Were you talking during this point?"

"Yes, we were," I reply. "He was remarking how seemingly displeased he was about Franklin and Caroline's relationship. He made the comment about how since we were all essentially raised together, that he thought it was more than a little inappropriate. He asked my opinion on it."

"What did you tell him?" Marlee asks.

"I told him that it didn't matter really to me. I said that I thought it was great, because Franklin and Caroline had genuine feelings for each other, for years, in fact. I said that since we weren't technically related, that it shouldn't matter one way or another."

"And that's how you honestly felt about it?" she asks.

I nod. "Yes, honestly..." Turning to the screen, I feel sick as suddenly Nathan grabs me, doesn't let go, and kisses me. "And then...that happened," I say softly, so that Marlee and everyone else has to struggle to hear me and watch the footage all at once. "Then, as you can see, I pushed him away," I say, turning away from the screen in disgust. "I told him that I didn't mean that, simply because I was okay with Franklin and Caroline, didn't mean that I meant that he and I should begin a relationship. I thought he understood that, and I left the dance floor then, as you can clearly see me doing..."

Marlee switches to the camera of the dining area, where you could clearly see me walking through. She then changed to the bar camera, where my head, neck, and torso were seen walking towards the back hallway. The first hallway camera saw me walking down and turning the corner, and then me standing at the back drinking water from the drinking fountain. Marlee then rewound the footage, to each and every place, this time focusing on Nathan. Nathan shook a hand or two before following my steps exactly, and putting a sign on the hallway that stated, "Bathrooms out of order".

"Criminal intent...premeditation," Marlee says bitterly, and from the corner of my eye, I see Richard gripping her desk, while Caroline raises a shocked hand to her mouth.

Marlee then turns the camera back to me drinking from the drinking fountain, and I feel myself stiffen as Nathan comes up behind me. I turn to look at him, and the camera picks up on my hand gestures. Marlee presses a button that divides the screen into two parts, where we can watch from my point of view and Nathan's point of view.

From my side of things, we see me, gesturing as I normally do, in an attempt to get Nathan to understand that I just wanted to be friends. On Nathan's side, he looks determined, whereupon he kisses me again. He grabs ahold of my shoulders, slamming me up against the wall by the drinking fountain, his fingers digging into my skin. My hands fly up in that next moment, attempting to push him off of me and my feet attempt to run. I watch, horrified, as Nathan lowers one of his hands and pushes it up underneath my skirt. With his other hand, he clamps it down, hard, on my mouth so that I don't scream. He then inches his right hand up my thigh and inside me, and immediately my face registers the pain that I must have felt.

Thinking fast, the camera me promptly knees him in the groin. Nathan doubles over in pain, just as Richard comes on the scene. The camera records our conversation, while Nathan, whose head hit the drinking fountain, lies, unconscious, in front of me. Marlee, knowing the rest, stops the camera, but turns immediately to Richard.

"Why would you go back there, after you saw the sign that Nathan put up before he himself went back there?" she asks.

"I was at the bar when I saw what he did on the dance floor. Caroline, Franklin, and Sarah know the layout of The Electric Violin to know that, from the bar, you can see everything, with the exception of the back."

"That's right," Caroline replied. "I told Nathan to put the bar there. There are three steps to get up to the bar, so that, if you have a drink before sitting down, you'll be able to find the party you're supposed to meet there. In my first article for The Seattle Sazerac, entitled New Hot Spots, I wrote about how Nathan took my advice on that."

"And Sarah's been there plenty of times to know that information," Franklin said. "Although that sounded wrong."

"What my brother means to say is, I seldom drink, but I'm there pretty much every weekend—the restaurant," I continue. "Caroline and I helped with the interior design aspect—she did the bar and I suggested the dance floor," I go on quietly.

"And Marlee, I followed Sarah because I was concerned," Richard says in a persuasive manner to her. "You and I have both prosecuted multiple cases with similar aspects to this one, so I know as well as you do when a situation has the potential to turn ugly. Bottom line, I was worried for Sarah."

"Well," Marlee says, looking from him to me, "I see now. All right. I'll go over this with the co-council sometime this week. That's all we need to go over for today."

I suggested to Caroline that she and Franklin went somewhere to talk, and I would catch a cab back to my parent's house. Richard wouldn't hear of it and followed me out of the place, just as I said goodbye to my brother and my best friend. Just as I took out my phone to call I cab, I heard a familiar step behind me, and Richard presented himself.

"Can I buy you lunch?" he asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "Lunch?"

He nods and takes my hand. "If you like."

I give him a smile. "All right, then. Lunch."

We walk for a few blocks before arriving just outside The Seattle Center, where The Fun Forest used to be. The Fun Forest was Seattle's only form of an amusement park, and I remembered being absolutely heartbroken and devastated when they closed it down when I was around thirteen or fourteen years old. Right beside the now-defunct amusement park was a small train-looking station known as The Seattle Monorail.

The Monorail was a train that took you to the very heart of Downtown, to a place that I used to consider magical around Christmastime which was called Westlake Center. I found myself remembering, as a little girl, that our father would bundle me and Franklin up in our warmest clothes and take us down there, where our first stop was the carousel, which had been moved from The Fun Forest. From there, we would get a medium-sized hot chocolate from Starbucks, and then head into the mall proper. We would always stop in Bed, Bath, and Beyond while in there, and Franklin and I would pick a new pillow for our bedrooms while Dad would pick something special for our mother. We would then do some miscellaneous holiday shopping, and Dad would always have a little notepad handy to be sure that he got us everything we wanted. Of course, being so young, Dad would always say that he was writing down the information for Santa, because he and Santa were old friends and he'd listen to Dad.

We got tickets for the train and went in. Taking seats just by the window, we watched, as gleeful as children, as the buildings gradually got larger and larger until finally we'd passed the smaller buildings entirely. The whole ride was only about two minutes, and when we stepped off, I was excited to see exactly where Richard was going to take me. We walked off the platform and took a left on Fourth Avenue, continuing up past Olive Way. We didn't come to a stop until we reached an address, 2010 Fourth Avenue.

The place was the home of Assaggio Ristorante, a refined and slightly upscale place that Caroline and I had fantasized about but hadn't dared to try. The pair of us walked in, and Richard, who was apparently a regular, was given his customary snug table at the front left corner of the cozy establishment. He smiled, handing me a menu and informing me to get whatever I wanted.

"Show off," I muttered, looking over my menu.

"What?" he asked, confused.

I smiled at him, trying not to laugh in the next moment. "Well, it's not even a date, and you're trying to impress me," I say, shrugging.

"What do you mean?" he asks, not understanding.

I give him a grin. "It's all right, really."

"Sarah?" he asks.

I shake my head at him. "I know you wouldn't date me even if I was the last woman on earth, if I'm being completely honest with you. I couldn't possibly be your type, even if you were drunk. I mean, look at me," I say, lowering my eyes and shaking my head. "But I am officially impressed," I add quietly.

Richard sighs. "Seraphina, this is a date."

I choke on my water, a stray ice cube making its way unceremoniously down my throat as I attempt to process his words. What can he mean? It was impossible, wasn't it? By all the saints, I couldn't really be his type, could I? This was the Richard Berkshaw, attorney at law, and I was just...well, me.

"Excuse me?" I demand.

He smiles. "I've been impressed with you ever since you told me off on Friday. I don't know what is it about you—your intelligence, your passion, your wisdom—but I am committed to getting to know you," he says, and I don't miss the fact that he doesn't say anything about my looks, for there isn't much to discuss there. "I got the sense that you were old fashioned, and that's fine with me. I'm fully prepared to court you."

I smile, touched. "Richard... You could have just asked me out you know."

He smiles broader. "Well, I would have, but I wasn't sure about your interest in me. I wanted to ask you out on Friday night, but I honestly thought that you were with Nathan. Then after what he did to you, I thought that you'd broken it off with him..."

"Nathan and I were never in a relationship."

It is his turn to choke on his water. "Run that by me one more time."

"We're friends; I thought you would have gotten that from what I told Marlee. I mean, on the dance floor, when he kissed me, I said that to him... I even said it in the meeting..." I shake my head at that, a smile twitching at my lips. "I guess you were so incensed in those meetings and those situations where I reiterated everything to you, that you never..."

"I was incensed," he replies, bemused.

"But you told me that girlfriends... You said that you didn't date..." I shake my head at him, at the confusion, spreading my hands in utter misperception.

Richard smiles easily, and wraps his hand almost protectively around mine. "I'll make an exception for you," he replies. "I must be able to talk to the woman I'm involved with. I can talk with you. I like you."

I smiled at him, feeling as if suddenly everything had come into focus. This handsome, eligible bachelor liked me. He liked me. I couldn't believe it, but I found myself saying the four words that any man—who seemed to appreciate old-fashioned girls—wanted to hear. "I like you, too."

A waitress came over then and took our drink order, and then asked if we were ready to order our lunch. Richard shot me a smile and ordered the ravioli with boar for himself, and the chicken parmesan for me. The waitress looked slightly taken aback before informing Richard that the chicken parmesan was on the dinner menu only.

Richard raised his eyebrows and looked around the place; the restaurant only had about five or six more couples seated around us—it wasn't even halfway full. Office people probably bought grab and go salads from some organic corner market instead of choosing to having proper, sit-down lunches these days...

He insisted to see the head manager, and she scuttled away, her little white apron nearly falling off of her as she sped off.

"Richard, it's really okay," I whispered, before a middle-aged man stepped forward after a brief word to the waitress.

"Richard!" cried the man, and Richard got to his feet to shake his hand. "Who is your lovely friend? Is she Marlee's new assistant?"

Richard laughed. "No. This is Seraphina Richardson, the new woman in my life, Mauro. She's Harrison's teacher at the Ivy Door Academy."

The man called Mauro smiled. He stuck out his hand without hesitation and took mine in his. "Miss Richardson, it is an honor to meet you."

I smiled at him, quite taken by his elusive yet delightful charm, although a bit alarmed that Richard would just assume that I would consent to be the new woman in his life without so much as asking me. "Well, Mauro, the honor is mine. I've been wanting to come in for a very long time."

"Well, thank you for coming," he said, releasing my hand and turning back to Richard. "Our waitress, Violet, is new. Forgive her—she doesn't know that you are a regular customer. Tell me, what is it you wanted, Miss Richardson—the chicken parmesan?"

"Yes, Mauro," I replied.

He smiled. "Then you shall have it," he proclaimed. "And the spinach ravioli with the boar for you, Richard?"

About twenty minutes later, our food had arrived. We sat and at the lush colored meal in front of us, and spoke about Marlee's findings. I was touched that Richard was so protective of me, and thanked him for his concern, and came to think that it would not be so bad to be the new woman in his life. Richard paid the bill at the end of the meal, despite my protests that we go Dutch, and we walked out of the place, and back down Fourth Avenue. On Fourth and Pine, right by the platform, I made a move to turn right, to go back to the Monorail, but Richard took my hand and pulled me to the left.

I shot him a questioning look, but he remained silent, a smile on his face. We continued down Pine Street, not speaking, merely content in each other's company. I looked across the street and saw where the carousel would be at Christmas, and considered going down there myself when it became December once more. We came to a stop in front of a Cupcake Royale, and Richard held the door open for me.

I felt my phone vibrate then and peeked at it. It was Franklin, telling me that he and Caroline were taking a walk and would be finished with it in the next ten minutes or so. I relayed the information to Richard, who nodded in approval. We told the charming young woman behind the counter, whose nametag read "Becky", what we wanted and then I told Richard to let me pay this time. He relented, his eyes boring into my back as I got a 'Red Velvet' for Caroline and a 'Classic' one for Franklin. I got one called 'Dance Party' and Richard got one called a 'Plain Jane'.

We took the decorative pink box with us with the massive sticker on its top and made our way back down Pine Street, getting on the Monorail at the Westlake Center. The ride was two minutes all over again, and dropped us back off at the Seattle Center, just as Franklin and Caroline walked by. Caroline's eyebrows immediately shot up, and I smiled inwardly at the fact that they were holding hands. Franklin immediately took the box from me, and popped it open.

My twin grinned at me, taking out his cupcake. "I can't believe you remembered my favorite flavor," he said, handing over the box to Caroline and picking me up in his arms and into a massive and brotherly bear hug. "Thank you! It's unjust that we don't get one of these in New York."

I roll my eyes at him and kiss his cheek before he puts me down. "I remember everything, Frank, you know that."

"Thank you so much for my Red Velvet," Caroline says, dipping her finger into her cream cheese frosting.

"You're welcome," I reply as we walk towards the Space Needle. We go down some stairs and soon are back on the main drag, and I am filled with surprise when my heart begins to hurt that I will be torn away from Richard so soon. I shake my head, unseen, knowing that I am acting like some teenager with a curfew who desperately needed someone to tell her to curb her enthusiasm.

We get to the parking garage, and I notice for the first time that Caroline's car is parked directly across from Franklin's. He considerately walks her to her car to say goodbye, leaving me and Richard alone. From the corner of my eye, I see them kiss, and make plans for the following day for a picnic at the arboretum across town.

"I want to see you again."

I turn back to Richard and smile up at him. A cool breeze comes into the parking garage then, and I find myself shivering in a moment of cold and anticipation. "Well, you are part of my co-council, and I thank you for that," I reply, wanting desperately to allow my knees to go weak and fall into his arms. "So you will be seeing me again, Richard Berkshaw, whether you want to or not."

"I want," Richard says as he shakes his head, almost as if he is questioning his lifelong morals at how we got from screaming at each other to her. "I want to take you to dinner, Sarah, if that isn't objectionable. Can I take you tomorrow?"

I feel my cheeks heat as I lower my eyes. "Dinner, Mr. Berkshaw?" I ask. "Isn't that what boyfriends and girlfriends do together?"

"Oh, I hope so," he nods. "Say, seven tomorrow night?"

I smile at him. "What did you have in mind?"

He steps forward slightly, kissing my cheek, and I feel a sudden sharp feeling of electricity flowing through me as his lips make contact with my skin, sending yet another shiver through me. "You'll just have to see," he replies, reaching into the box, now back in my hands, and taking his cupcake, which he bites, giving me a devilish grin.

"Richard," I scold, dipping my hand into the box and taking a bite of my cupcake and shaking my head.

"What?"

I shrug. "Oh, I don't know. Your mannerisms, I suppose..."

He reaches out and takes one of my fingers, putting it into the frosting of his cupcake, and gently rubs it around for a moment.

"Richard, what...?"

He then brings my finger to his mouth and gently licks it clean of the frosting before giving me a final smile and slipping out of the parking garage and back to his office.

I immediately tell Caroline what transpired between me and Richard, and she immediately springs into action. She formally kidnaps me from Franklin's care the following afternoon to take me to the mall. We arrive and she pulls me from the car and takes me into the Gene Juarez Salon. Upon entering, she rattles off a whole bunch of things that absolutely need to be—apparently—done to me. I am taken from her comforting presence and whisked away to the back.

I am taken to a back room first, where my underarms, legs, eyebrows, and way upper thighs are waxed. Once various parts of me are justifiably on fire, I am then rubbed with various scented lotions in order to dull all of the pain and inflammation. I am then pulled to the front, where my hair is washed, conditioned, and then submerged in some weird-smelling liquid. When I give a confused look to the woman, she smiles.

"Don't worry, sweetie. We're not changing anything. It's to highlight and accentuate the natural color of your hair."

I nod and allow her to do her job. After that treatment is finished, she blow dries my hair and flat-irons it, the curls disappearing out of thin air. My hands and feet are then washed, lotioned, the nails buffed, before an attractive red is chosen for both. Then, makeup is given, and, by the time I'm finished, I'm embarrassed because Caroline has paid for everything.

She then pulls me into the mall, and heads straight to my favorite store—and the only store that I know of that catered to young women of my size while still making us look our age—Torrid. Upon entering, Caroline announces our purpose, and whispers to them where Richard is taking me, something I don't hear at all, and I am left to feel annoyed that I don't know important information. I am then laden down with various dresses, before I'm promptly gently shoved into a dressing room and told to try things on.

I settle on a pale blue one, because it goes well with my skin tone. The ladies tell me that it is popular right now, and that it was inspired by the recent Cinderella film. Once I find some basic black heels, I know that I'm fully prepared for that evening. I gently nudge Caroline out of the way at the counter—I wholly intend to pay for myself.

Just as I think we're about to leave, Caroline yanks me into one more store—Alana, an antique jewelry store that my mother loves. I myself love their pieces, but cannot afford them on my measly salary. Nevertheless, my best friend pulls me inside the place, and bids me to choose something. I start to protest at this but then my eyes fall upon a pendant—simple, golden, circular—that the saleslady says was a watch cover, but has been converted into a pendant. Caroline mentions her interest, and asks the price. I nearly die on the spot and attempt to leave the store when she names the price—which is nearly six hundred dollars. Caroline waves it away, handing over her credit card and her driver's license. I tell Caroline—after the pendant is outfitted with another hundred-dollar chain—that I fully intend to pay her back, in full, possibly with interest.

"You will not, Seraphina Richardson," she replies, paying for it as we leave the store. "I see something between you and Richard that I've never seen with you or any man. You're falling for each other, I know it."

My cheeks heat as I look away. "We've had one date..."

"And lots of conversation," she replies as we get into her car.

"He hasn't even kissed me yet..."

"And you should eat that up," she tells me as we pull out of the parking lot. "He seems like a rare exception when it comes to guys. He doesn't seem into it for the sex."

"Gee, thanks," I grumble as we leave the Northgate area.

"Oh, you know what I mean," she replies with a small giggle my way. "I mean, I know you sense that Richard seems a little old- fashioned..."

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask her.

Caroline immediately shakes her head. "Not for you, no. I think that he doesn't want to rush into anything, which is altogether pleasant, given your...inexperience when it comes to the opposite sex. I mean, it's almost as if he doesn't want sex right away—or, if he does, he's really going in for all the wooing you want..."

"Sex is off the table," I reply as we cross the intersection that acts as a border between the Northgate and the Greenwood areas.

She nods, gripping the steering wheel slightly. "Right," she replies.

"For now," I say softly.

I am back at my house at six-thirty. Richard texts me to tell me he is on his way, and that he will be there in fifteen minutes. I hurry to my bedroom, quickly taking out my new purchases and dressing, and managing to find a decent pair of pantyhose. I buckle my heels and stare at myself in the mirror, pursing my lips slightly. Knees clacking together, I barely hear the doorbell ring and scarcely hear my mother answering it a moment later.

"Oh, and you must be Richard," she says.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Richardson."

"I'll let her know you're here," my mother says calmly. "William, come out of your office to greet Richard, please."

"Mr. Richardson, pleasure to meet you," Richard says a moment later.

"Richard," my father says as I walk out of my bedroom and onto the landing. "I hear you may have saved my daughter's life."

"Seraphina did all the saving, Mr. Richardson. I simply wished to make sure she was all right."

"Oh Sarah," my mother whispers, slightly gushing as she meets me on the balcony, her eyes twinkling in delight. "He's adorable!"

I grin at her. "Just hope Dad likes him as much as you seem to," I reply as she takes my arm and walks with me down the stairs. "Hello, Dad. Richard, are those for me?" I ask, my eyes lighting up at the sight of the red roses, my favorite flower.

Richard smiles at me then, looking me up and down, and gasps slightly. "Well, yes, it appears so." He seems to separate the flowers, when I notice that the seemingly giant bouquet is simply two dozen bouquets. "One is for your mother, the other is for you. And these, sir," he says, taking out a decent-sized, smooth, ribboned box, "are for you. Franklin mentioned you loved chocolate."

"That's my boy," Dad says fondly, taking the box as my mother takes the flowers. "I know you'll take good care of my daughter."

"I will, sir," Richard replies, taking my arm and leading me out.

I am relieved when neither of them question where we are headed as we walk down the garden path and towards his car. We get into that car of his again and drive away from Sunset Hill and in the direction of the Ballard Bridge. We drive past Market Street, and soon we are on Fifteenth Avenue, which takes us directly to the Ballard Bridge. We drive across it, passed Chinook's, and I remember mentally to give Tabby a call to keep her in the loop about the investigation.

We continue on, passed a couple of underpasses, past a street called Dravus and passed the exit for West Seattle. We go under the Magnolia Bridge and soon we are back in Downtown. We get past the semi-seedy area, where it connects to Queen Anne, and soon we are back at the heart of it all. We go passed the street that The Electric Violin is on, and I deliberately don't look down it, getting a sick feeling in my stomach.

We get into the neighborhood of valet parking and I'm not surprised at this point. We go down Fourth Avenue again, and then we are outside The Cobb Building, and Richard gets out of the car, goes around to let me out, and hands over the keys to the valet, handing over a twenty-dollar bill like its loose change. He then takes my arm and takes me in, smiling in a friendly manner to the maître d.

"My usual table, please, Mr. Cunningham," he says politely.

"Of course, Mr. Berkshaw," Mr. Cunningham replies, gathering up two menus and leading us towards the dining room. We continue through that room for some reason, and soon we are standing in a private room entirely. The doors proclaimed it 'The Board Room', and I am suddenly aware that I am in a private dining room. Fine carpeting decorates the floor and Richard and I sit at a round table in the center of the room; while the room can hold a rather large circular table, it appears as if it has been removed. Fine wood paneling decorates the walls, with the walls being a striking red color. There is also a sideboard which holds an impressive replica of a white sailboat.

Mr. Cunningham pulls my chair out in a gentleman-like manner for me and hands over a menu, and turns to Richard, familiarity in his body language. "Will you be having a wine this evening, Mr. Berkshaw?" he asks.

"I'll have a glass of your finest champagne, and sparkling cider for my date," he says, with a sweet wink at me.

"Your date isn't...?" he asks, and I assume they are old friends.

Silently, I remove my driver's license from my wallet, without being asked, and flash a quick smile to Mr. Cunningham. "Oh, I'm of age, Mr. Cunningham," I reply, my voice as smooth as silk, "I just don't like alcohol."

"Very good... Miss Richardson," he says, looking from my license to me. "You're not Dr. Richardson's daughter, are you?"

I nod. "I am."

"I'm Theodore, Fiona's older brother. Fiona Baker. I'm the co-owner," he says, puffing himself up a little, so as he resembles a burgundy cardinal.

"Very nice to meet you, Theodore," I reply.

"And you, Miss Richardson, simply delighted," he replies, shooting me a smile before slipping out of the room.

"He's very charming," I say.

"Mrs. Baker is one of your father's patients?"

I nod, pleased and altogether touched that Richard is taking an interest in the various individuals in my life. "Yes. I've known her since I was a little girl. I'm friends with her daughter, Tabitha—the one who mentioned what happened between her and Nathan. Our other star witness."

Richard grips the table's edge when Nathan is mentioned. He lowers his eyes and I tense a little when I notice his jaw setting in contempt. "I might have to go out and get a lawyer myself..." He mutters, not letting go of the table so that I know its cloth will have creases in it by the end of the night.

"And why is that?" I ask, sipping my water slowly and attempting to remain nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Because, Seraphina, I am not often a reckless man, but, as you said, I've become entirely incensed. I cannot stand by and allow Nathan to walk about, a free man. God, I mean part of me wants to go out and clobber him. I mean, what if I just—"

"Richard!" I say, raising up my hand upwards, almost as if to ward off the knight in him. "No, absolutely not. I could never be with a man who threatened violence. Yes, I may want to give Nathan a punch or two, but think about what I did last Friday."

He nods, sure of himself now. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry." He reaches forward and takes my hand. "You're right. How I behaved just now was inappropriate and wrong."

I smile at him. "It is all right. I know you mean well."

We turn at the sound of the door opening, two ice buckets on a small, silver table, being pushed by Theodore. He smiles at the pair of us, hand clasped, and wheels the table towards the other side of the table. Also on the table is a pair of elegant crystal wine glasses, which Theodore raises momentarily to pour Richard's champagne and my sparkling cider into. He places the green bottles into the respective ice buckets and then departs, giving us time to mull over our drinks and to consider what to order as he slips from the room.

"What are you thinking of?" Richard asks, nodding to the menu.

"The roast chicken, with the baked potato and a Caesar salad," I reply, my mouth watering at the very mention of it.

Richard chuckles indulgently. "Are you deliberately choosing the most inexpensive main course?" he asks. "Don't you want a steak?"

"I like steak, but I love chicken," I say.

"No lamb?"

"I don't like lamb."

"Lobster?"

I shrug. "I don't eat fish."

"Wha—? No fish?!" he demands.

I laugh; I've had this conversation more than once. I've lived in Seattle my whole life and everyone is shocked when I tell them this. My mother and I swore off fish long ago; Frank only occasionally ate it and my dad was in love with the stuff. Caroline wasn't too fond of it either—she absolutely despised salmon, which certainly made grocery shopping easier. For most people, if they liked it, it was an act of treason or something pertaining to that because I didn't like it; this mainly had to do with its rancid smell, plus the way it looked. I mean, really, how could I, a Seattleite, born and raised, not like fish, when so many of the premiere restaurants in the area served it?

"I hate it," I reply. "The smell, the taste... Even the way it looks. It just makes me ill when it's served with its eyeball still in its head like that. It's unnatural, that's what it is. But I do like calamari..."

Richard laughs at that. "All right, all right. I'll get a steak then, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable."

Theodore returns a few moments later and asks us in that cordial manner of his what we'd like to begin our meal with. Richard throws me a smile and orders the calamari, along with the French onion soup for himself, and the Caesar for me. We then decide to order our main courses, which we do. Theodore recommends that, if we do decide on dessert—he slides a miniature menu onto our ice bucket table—that we should order it when we are halfway done with our main course.

"What made you decide to go into teaching, really and truly?" Richard asks as soon as Theodore slips out.

I shrug. "To be honest, it was the children. I love children."

Richard looks slightly uncomfortable. "You want children?"

I decide to ignore the look. "Someday," I say quietly, "when I meet the right guy and it works out for the both of us. But, really, the kids. I mean, I always wanted more siblings, but Mom and Dad were so busy with their respective careers that they just didn't have time for more than twins."

"Does your mother still work?" Richard asks.

I nod, smiling. "She does. She's an event coordinator, so she makes her own hours. Her company is called Perfect Encore. She's been going at it for almost thirty years, and it does wonders."

Richard slaps his knee. "No way! Your mom is Tilda Richié!"

I laugh. "Yes."

Richard looks altogether amazed by this turn of events. "My mother and little sister, Ivana, absolutely love her! Whenever they want to get an event by her, they always get that consultant of hers—Rupert something. He's very...enthusiastic."

I chuckle at that as I envision the man who was once Frank's and my legal guardian, should something happen to Mom or Dad. "Rupert Johnson and his partner Eric Smyth are old family friends of ours. My mom met them over thirty years ago, and they were having far too many tequilas in Hawaii when they came up with the idea for the lucrative event-planning business. My mother's parents are millionaires and she asked them to invest and well, Perfect Encore was born."

"How did she meet your dad?" he wants to know.

"My mom met him while planning my Aunt Samantha's wedding. She was the planner, he was the best man... It was held up in Port Townsend, which is where they live now. Right on the water—totally beautiful, I've seen the pictures. It's this small, beautiful, Victorian seaside town with less than ten thousand people. Someday, I want to move out there permanently and teach children...and write..."

Theodore comes in with my salad and Richard's soup. We eat in silence for a couple of minutes, savoring the gourmet food. Another question comes to him and he manages to get my attention without being rude.

"Your teaching... You went to the University of Washington?"

I shake my head. "No, Frank went to the University of Washington. I went to Western Washington University, just to get out of the mold a bit. Plus, they're one of the top places in the area to get a teaching degree."

"And Frank? Did Frank go there too, or...?"

I shake my head again. "No, Frank went to the University of Washington. He left high school mid-way during sophomore year and went onto university. He got into their medical program after just one year, which was truly fascinating to me. He then managed to graduate from the program in just two years, so when I graduated high school, he'd graduated college. It involved him not having a part-time job, and he absolutely had to have a car due to the long hours he put into the school. Frank was just so dedicated that he would run on almost no sleep and one night, while driving home, he crashed the car and went right through the windshield."

Richard choked on his soup. "What happened?"

I sigh. "His left hand is...well, it was barely mobile for a time and it was touch and go for a while. The doctor's thought he was going to lose it—he did lose his right knee cap. It's also why he's so quick tempered—some lobe got damaged in the accident. He was in a rut until he got a scholarship to New York, to Columbia, and went. It took him until just this summer, and he did some travelling around Europe to take his mind off the accident."

"Like where?" Richard asks.

"His dream was to go to Spain," I say. "He always wanted to drink a mojito in Milan and get a suntan."

Richard makes a face at my pathetic attempt at a poem.

"I know, I know," I say, "but that was a direct quote."

"So you say that Frank's dream was to go to Spain?"

I nodded. "Yes, with utmost assurance, I can say so. I can honestly say that was his dream since we saw the map of the world in elementary school. He would constantly point to various locations and ask the teacher about them. He'd do that every year, with every teacher, and ask about something else every year. Our first year, it was architecture in Greece; our second year, it was about food in France; our third year, it was art in Italy, and then, by that time, we'd gone on to middle school, so he couldn't, in his own words, 'bother those poor teachers anymore'."

"What about your dream?"

"My dream?"

"About where to travel," Richard explains.

I laugh at that. "Oh. My dream. London," I reply.

"London?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"I desperately want to go to London, Richard. Ever since I was twelve or thirteen, I've just been captivated and entranced by it. Oh, the stories, the wonderful people, the words, the music, their lack of good food... I want to go there so desperately..."

Richard laughs, reaching across the table and taking my hand in his for the second time that evening. "I will make you a promise. If you come to my family's tea party this weekend, and bring your mother—whom my mother and sister want so desperately to meet—I'll take you to London for Christmas."

"London? Christmas? Oh, no!" I cry, shaking my head.

"Don't you want to go?"

"Yes, I..." I shake my head. "Desperately, Richard, desperately, but it can't be at Christmas. I have traditions to keep up, here in Seattle... I couldn't go anywhere at that time..."

Richard smiles. "I understand. Family things?"

I smile. "Yes, and various teaching functions leading up to the holidays... And besides, it'd be too soon, you know?"

He strokes my hand with his thumb, sending sparks and shivers all through me. "Then how about in the summer?"

I nod. "The summer, then."

We finish our main courses and have ordered dessert. I order the crème brulee and Richard orders the flourless chocolate espresso cake. We finish our meal with a few minutes to spare before Theodore arrives with our dessert. He takes our meal plates and then withdraws, leaving our wonderful desserts before us. Richard and I take our first bite, mine onto spoon and his onto fork, and gently press them together before partaking.

I shut my eyes in a moment of ecstasy and giggle slightly for a moment before opening them and eating some more. We chat a little about this and that, and then manage to work Marlee into the conversation. Marlee expected us in her office at noon tomorrow, and hoped that Tabby was available to sit in on the meeting, for at two we'd have our first meeting with the co-council to develop potential strategy.

"When is Marlee's husband going in to arrest him?" I ask.

"Technically that's confidential information, Sarah, but I'll break the code once just to prepare you," he says, knowing that it was in my best interests to know this information, especially for my safety. "They've decided to arrest him tomorrow, around eleven. I guess I should have found out when The Electric Violin opens... I usually come there after I've finished work and I'm always working late..."

"It doesn't open until seven p.m., but Nathan's there every morning from ten until two to go over the books, clean up, and let the staff in. The staff arrives at two to get the place ready for opening."

"Good. Marlee says that the guy that Caroline got in touch with at the camera company is going to provide a live feed into the office," Richard says informatively. "If you can put on a good enough show in the courtroom to be sure that they won't suspect that you've seen it before, you can watch."

I feel sick in the pit of my stomach, but know I must watch. "Yes, I'll bet you money that I can put on a convincing performance."

Richard smiles, taking my hand in his again for a moment. He eats a few more forkfuls of his dessert, and I do the same with mine. Theodore arrives a few minutes later with the bill, and Richard immediately takes out his credit card and places it into the folder before Theodore whisks it away.

"So what does your sister do with her life?" I ask.

"Ivana is in Italy studying to be a top-notch chef," he replies.

"Italy!" I cry, grinning at the very thought of it. "That's wonderful. I'll bet it's beautiful there, and to be there for school... What part is she in?"

"Florence, at the Florence Culinary Art School."

"And she's taking time off?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No. She keeps a very rigorous sleeping schedule, and since she started at sixteen, she is able to take more time. She is in class Monday through Wednesday, and then takes a red eye from Florence to here, and then returns on a red eye on Sunday night."

"So she'll be back for the picnic?"

Richard nodded at that. "Yes, in a few hours, actually." He checks his watch. "Well, it's almost eleven. We've been here a while."

I smile. I don't want it to end, but that's not something you're supposed to say on the second date. Theodore comes back in good time and hands over the bill folder to Richard, who takes the provided pen and leaves what looks to be a thirty-dollar tip before getting to his feet. I take his arm and we follow Theodore out to the main entrance.

"I've had them pull your car around."

"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham," he says.

"It was lovely to formally meet you," I say. "I think we must have seen each other at your sister's Christmas parties."

"Indeed, that must have been it," Theodore says. "Please send your mother and father my best."

"I will," I reply. "Goodnight." I slip outside after Richard, who hands over another twenty to the valet, who looks as if he is walking on air. I shoot him a smile as Richard opens the passenger door for me, and I shut it myself as he walks around the car, sliding in next to me with a grin.

He then drives away from the restaurant, and soon we find ourselves on Aurora Avenue, heading north, back to my parent's house. I shake my head, and, almost as if he knows what I am thinking, he says that Franklin texted him the address, and I find I am smiling again at the notion that my twin actually cared. Franklin either approved of my dating Richard or he didn't think it was any of his business.

We come to a red light on Aurora Avenue and Richard briefly drums his hands on the steering wheel, leading me to questioning him if he'd ever considered being a drummer, or some other kind of musician. "So with things improving with Caroline, when do you think you'll go back to the condo?" he asks, after laughing.

I shrug at that, completely unsure. "I don't know. She hasn't asked me back yet. She pays sixty percent of the rent and she found the place and lived there for over a year before I even considered moving in. Technically, it's more her space than mine."

"You're close with your parents."

It's not a question. "Well, yes. After Frank moved to New York, they took three months out of every year to travel, so those six years Frank was gone, I spent a great deal of time with them. It was like being an only child..."

We get off Aurora Avenue at N. Eighty-Fifth Street and make a left, going up a rather steep hill before coming to a stop at the Linden stoplight. Traffic is light at this hour, and the wait is barely thirty seconds. We seem to glide through the intersection and continue on the drive, passing two different elementary schools—one Catholic, one public—and continue driving. We pass a Chinese church on our right and then go up another hill, coming to a stop, eventually, at a light, back on Fifteenth Avenue. We go through this light slowly, due to the busy intersection, and soon we are past Twenty-Fourth Avenue, and back in the exclusive-sounding Sunset Hill area.

We are soon on my parent's street, and then we are back at the house. I see a light on in my parent's garage, and I immediately know that they are not home, and wonder where they've gone so late at night. The light is out in Frank's garage, strangely enough, so I know he will be inside when I get in. Richard parks in the driveway, turning off the car before turning to look at me, and takes my hand.

"I had a really good time."

I smile up at him. "So did I. Thank you."

His hand passes up my wrist, arm, and shoulder before coming to rest on my cheek, cupping it slightly. He gives me a smile before leaning in, and, at the halfway point, stops. "Would you mind if I...?"

"No," I say, shaking my head.

He slowly closes the distance between us, and takes my lips gently in his own. I want to obliterate all I see and hear, so I lean in closer to him, and find myself opening my mouth under his. He shifts away in brief surprise before turning his head slightly, one hand going around my neck and holding me to him, his hands never rough. His tongue enters the situation, and I find myself working on automatic pilot. I must force myself to go half the speed I normally would when I put my arms around his neck. When he reaches downward, towards the small of my back, I immediately pull away.

"I'm sorry, I..."

He shakes his head. "No, I should apologize. I went too far."

I sigh. "Richard...I should tell you. I was a virgin..."

At once, his gaze darkens. "You were a virgin before Nathan...?"

"Yeah," I nod.

He turns away from me, swearing under his breath as hits his head once on his steering wheel. "Damn that bastard," he says through his teeth. "I'm so sorry..."

"Hey," I say, touching his cheek. "It's okay, really. I know you want what's best for me, and it's kind of exciting to see a hot guy acting this way all because of me, due to the fact that I'm not used to it..."

He smiles at that. "You think I'm hot?"

"Do I even have to answer that question?"

"No," he replies, chuckling.

And then we are kissing again, and, this time, I don't want to stop, but I also don't want to get caught having car sex in my parent's driveway. "I thought that sex was off the table, but now..."

He sighs. "I understand." Looking around like he has some great secret, he grins at me. "My parent's house is a mansion... We'll be at the tea party all of Sunday, so if we wanted to slip away to the guest wing, nobody would miss us for a moment."

I bit my lip slightly, in an effort to contain my desire. "I think I would rather do it in your childhood bedroom. It would be...hotter."

"I like the way you think," he says, kissing me again. He then gets out of the car and comes around to let me out. When he takes my hand and pulls me up, he kisses me again, and he holds me along the length of his body, and I feel safe in his sculpted arms. Then he walks me to the door, and does so a third time. "Tell Frank and Caroline that they're welcome at the tea party as well."

"They'll appreciate that. Thank you."

"I my parents to meet your parents, and your brother, and Caroline. I think Caroline and Ivana would get along famously."

"Tabby's husband Jason is due in town on Thursday," I begin.

"Invite them, too! Marlee and her husband Timothy are coming, too. My mother doesn't approve of mixing business with pleasure, but maybe we can figure out more strategy on that day."

I smile. "That sounds wonderful." I let him kiss me again before I tear myself away from him and go into the house. I lock the door behind me for good measure before dashing up the stairs and going into my bedroom. I open the window, the white lace curtains billowing around me, and wave him off as he drives around the corner and out of sight.

Hopping down from the window seat, I shut the window and slip into the bathroom. I remove the dress, necklace, pantyhose, shoes, and makeup before slipping into a pair of flannel pants and a tank top. I check on Ginger, who is sleeping in her bed, and kiss her head before opening my bedroom door. The light is on underneath Franklin's door, so I go down the hall and tap on it. I don't hear anything, so I think he fell asleep or something. Thinking nothing of it, I turn the handle and scream at what I see.

"Franklin, Caroline, oh my god!" I scream.

There they are, in front of me, making love. Caroline immediately screams as well before Franklin gets off of her and yanks up the bedsheet—thankfully I didn't see anything. I immediately turn away, but the image is forever engrained on my memory.

"Wow, um, okay, so glad to see you're alive. Um, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night..." I awkwardly reach behind me and shut the door before smacking my head repeatedly as I run back up the hall. "Gross, gross, gross! Ew, ew, ew!" I run downstairs to the kitchen and get a glass of water, and decide that going to bed is no longer an option for me, especially right now.

I drift into the living room then, a glass of water in tow, and turn on the television, wanting to find something mindless to get me out of the funk. I turn it on to Family Guy, hoping that the cartoon characters, snappy dialogue, and me mentally cursing the FCC for bleeping out the curse words will distract me from what I just saw, and what I should have never seen, at any given time, in my life. Thankfully it is one of my favorite episodes, the season eight premiere called Road to Multiverse, where Brian (the family dog) and Stewie (the family baby) go on a journey to multiple universes.

Ginger manages to find me upon the couch and curls up in my lap, completing the tranquility of the picture. I hear some footsteps coming down the stairs, and some hushed tones before the front door closes. Then a single pair of footsteps comes towards me, and I see Franklin standing there. He sits beside me, and Ginger walks over to his lap.

"Hey," he says to her before looking up at me. "Hey..."

I make an uncomfortable face. "I'm really sorry..."

"No, I... I thought you'd be out later."

I sigh. "Well..." I nod at the television. "Distractions..."

Franklin looks up at the T.V. "Oh, I love this one..." He pays attention briefly to Ginger until some commercials come on—fast food chains, mostly. "Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Richard's mom is having a tea party on Sunday and you're all invited."

"Sounds fun."

He continued stroking Ginger, almost as if contemplating what to say next. I am shocked at his reply, and force myself to say something.

"I'm surprised that you would consider the institution of a tea party fun," I reply softly. "I mean, frilly dresses, tiny sandwiches, sticking up your pinky... Not exactly what I'd call male entertainment..."

He shrugs. "All in a day's work to keep a family from squabbling..."

I turn back to the T.V. "Right," I reply.

"How did it go tonight?"

"Fine. Richard is a gentleman."

"I know," Franklin replies. "And Caroline is a lady. That's what everyone needs in a partner these days."

"That, and trust, loyalty, and honesty," I tell him, my voice firm. "You need all three of those things to function well in a relationship with a partner, Frank. If you don't have any of those things, there is no relationship—there can be no relationship. Politeness is just a bonus at this point, I guess..."

He smiles and nudges my shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short. If Richard isn't the one, who cares?"

"Um, I would?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "What I'm saying is, if he isn't the one, so what? 'The one' will definitely come along sooner or later, Sarah."

I sigh and shake my head. "I just hope by that time Ginger doesn't have an assortment of siblings and I'm confined to grandmotherly attire and living in a house which smells like cat piss. I want..."

He nods. "I know what you want. And that's natural. And maybe you'll get it with Richard, maybe not, but the point is, you'll have it with someone."

"At this point, I want it with him," I reply.