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  “Now that you put it like that, yeah. What’s up with the two of you?”

  “Nothing is up with the two of us. Ted is out there playing the field. I can’t keep track of his bimbos. I’m sorry, that was unkind. He’s on female number seven according to Espinosa. Not that I’m counting. By the way, I met someone I find very interesting. He’s a money manager of some kind, originally from Maryland. He came by the paper one day, and I met him. We’ve had dinner twice. No, we have not had sex. Don’t go there, either one of you. He’s a tad older than I am, and that’s what I find interesting. I’m actually thinking of bringing him to Annie’s Thanksgiving dinner. I cannot tell you how interesting he finds me. He says I make him laugh. He says I am down to earth and cute as a newborn speckled pup. Go ahead, say it, and I’ll kick both your asses all the way to the Canadian border. I’m not cleaning up this mess, either. Please try to be quiet since I’m sleeping on the couch. You do have a spare toothbrush, don’t you, Bert? I really don’t want to have to use yours. I get up at five, so set the coffeepot so I don’t have to wait. I hate waiting for coffee. I like it ready to pour as soon as I reach the kitchen.”

  Bert and Jack both clamped their lips shut.

  Maggie trotted off, the swinging door leading to and from the kitchen closing with a soft swoosh.

  “I think that went rather well, don’t you, Jack?” Bert whispered nervously, his eyes on the swinging kitchen door.

  “Make sure you check your toothbrush. No telling where those lips and teeth have been,” Jack whispered in return. “Since this is your house, you can do the cleanup. Night, Bert.”

  Thirty-six hours later, a horde of Asians descended on Harry Wong’s dojo. A titillating ceremony ensued before Master Choy was carried from the premises on a red velvet chair that was trimmed in gold. There was a lot of bowing and scraping. The ancient one slept through the whole ceremony, to everyone’s delight. Yoko’s eyes sparkled with relief. Jack and Bert just grinned from ear to ear, while Harry stood mesmerized as his head bobbed up and down as he listened to his new master, who was babbling in a language only Yoko understood.

  “What the hell is he saying?” Jack asked uneasily.

  “You want the short or the long version?” Yoko giggled.

  Miffed, Jack said, “The short one will do.”

  “He said, ‘Let’s get you ready so you can kick some ass.’ Then he went to sleep.”

  “Now, that’s my kind of master. How old is this one?”

  “Eighty-six! He trained the past three winners. He says Harry will be his fourth winner. Then he will retire.”

  “Eighty-six, huh? He looks to be . . . ah . . . at least seventy-nine,” Bert said. He looked over at Jack and hissed, “What happened to Charles’s taking care of this?”

  Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Harry said this guy was just waiting in the wings and beat out Charles’s guy.”

  Yoko giggled. “This man could wipe up the floor with you, Jack, and Harry in less than five minutes. I can ask for a demonstration if you like. But first we have to wait for him to wake up.”

  Bert and Jack ran to their respective classrooms. Yoko continued to giggle as she got ready to leave for the nursery. Sometimes things just worked out right. She offered up a little prayer of thanks before skipping her way out to her car. Inside, the engine running, she started to cry.

  It was five o’clock when Jack and Bert finished up with their classes for the day. Once in a while they had a light day, and today had been one of them. Both were surprised when they looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway. He looked uneasy as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say. When they wouldn’t or couldn’t surface, Harry just shrugged.

  Jack took the initiative. “We peeked in a while ago and it looked to us like you got yourself a winner this time around. The guy was sleeping just like your first master. That’s a real shame that Master Choy had to leave. We know how broken up you were over that. But you know what, Harry? That, too, shall pass.”

  “That’s the biggest crock of shit I ever heard come out of your mouth, Jack Emery. Look, I . . . what I mean is . . . listen . . .”

  “It’s just one lousy word, Harry. Thanks. There, I said it for you. You wanna kiss and make up now or later?”

  Harry advanced across the room, his bare feet slapping on the tile floor. Jack winced, and Bert tried to wiggle behind Jack. Harry reached for Jack’s shirt and had him in a bear hug before Jack could blink. He kissed him so hard on both cheeks, Jack thought his back molars were going to come loose. Harry released him and did the same thing to Bert. Then he backed up a step and bowed low. He turned without another word and slapped his way back to the door. “You . . . you rascals. I love you guys!” And then he was gone.

  “Holy shit!” Jack said in a strangled voice. “I guess he didn’t notice that his new master was sleeping.”

  “That’s one for the old memory books. Jesus, Jack, Harry kissed us. And, he bowed to us.”

  “Yeah.” Jack grinned. “Yeah, he did.”

  Back at Pinewood, Charles and Myra’s home in Virginia, Charles smiled at the success of his little mission, which was no more than a blip on his computer screen. He did a double take when he read Jack’s incoming text. He swore then, something he rarely, if ever, did. For all intents and purposes, Harry Wong was destined to work with sleepers. With nothing more pressing on his agenda, he made his way out of the catacombs to the main floor of the old farmhouse, where Myra and Annie were having coffee in the kitchen. Both women clapped their hands in approval when Charles reported the success, then the downfall of the mini-mission. “Harry is going to have to make it on his own, I’m afraid to say. There’s nothing more I can do.”

  “Sometimes, dear, the best-laid plans simply don’t work. It’s a culture you cannot be expected to understand. You did your best. Come, join us for coffee, Charles. Annie and I are planning her Thanksgiving menu. Is there anything in particular you would like? This year, dear, you will just be a guest and not have to worry about getting everything hot to the table at one time.”

  “Plum pudding is a must. I can make it if you like. One has to make it just right, or it turns out to be just another pudding. I have my mum’s recipe.”

  “That would be wonderful, as I’ve never made plum pudding before,” Annie said.

  “She’s never made a turkey, either,” Myra jabbed, to Annie’s dismay.

  “Well, I never knew how to pole dance, either, but I managed to master that little feat,” Annie snapped. “How hard can making a turkey be if you follow the directions?”

  “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. If you find yourself in need of my services, feel free to call on me. I seem to have a little too much leisure time these days. I think I’ll leave you ladies to your menu planning and take the dogs for a run. If you need me for anything, just beep me.” He leaned over and kissed Myra on the cheek before he whistled for the dogs, who came on the run.

  “Are you going to get a dog or maybe a cat, Annie, when you move into your new farmhouse?”

  “I don’t know, Myra. I’m going to be doing some traveling, and it isn’t fair to the animal. I’d love to have a whole houseful like you do, but that means I have to put down serious roots. I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.”

  “Sooner or later, Annie, you’re going to have to stop running. We can’t undo the past. We both know that. We’re in the here and now, and if you keep running, it will always be like this. I so want to see you happy. We’re in our twilight years. We deserve happiness.”

  Annie bookmarked the page she had been looking at in one of Myra’s cookbooks. “Are you happy, Myra?”

  Myra tapped the side of her coffee cup with her nails. “We’ve had this talk before, Annie. I’ve come to terms with the hand fate has dealt me. I’m content. If my daughter had lived, and I had grandchildren, I would be deliriously happy. But that can never be, and I have accepted it. I married Charles because I love him, and I should have done
it years ago. There isn’t much left for me to aspire to is the way I see it at the moment. We have the girls in our lives, their significant others or their husbands, whatever the case may be. We’ve had fame, and you and I have our fortunes, which both of us share where it needs to be shared. And I now have those wonderful dogs, who make me laugh and love me unconditionally. So, let’s just say I am as happy as my circumstances will allow.”

  Annie smiled. “I wish sometimes I was more like you, my friend.”

  “Don’t ever wish that, Annie. Just wish to be who you were meant to be. You have so many things in your life to be grateful for. You are so loved, it boggles the mind. You do so much good that no one knows about. Like Joseph Espinosa’s family. You gave up your childhood home to that family so they could have a better life. Look what you did with the newspaper. You adopted the girls, who love you more than life itself. Take the time to enjoy it all, Annie, before it’s too late.”

  Annie played with the pages of the cookbook in front of her. She looked Myra square in the eye and said, “That sounds rather ominous, Myra.”

  “I know, and I meant it to sound that way. Now, are you planning on canned cranberry sauce or made from scratch? I saw a recipe for one that has orange in it. Sounded good to me.”

  “Then that’s the one we’ll serve.”

  “There, we made a decision. We should work on your guest list.”

  “Let’s just invite everyone we know and do it as a buffet. We can set up separate tables since I don’t have a table big enough to fit everyone.”

  “And another decision has been made.” Myra laughed as she stared across the table at her friend, who also began to laugh. But, Myra saw, the laughter didn’t reach Annie’s eyes.

  Chapter 3

  Following his normal daily routine, Charles started to read the morning news on the computer. It was three days before Thanksgiving. He winced at the world headlines. Just once in a while he wished the headlines would be something good, or at the very least, cheerful. He continued to scan what he wanted to read and saw the blip that President Connor was heading to Camp David for Thanksgiving. Master Sergeant Augustus Sullivan, retired wounded military veteran, would be joining her, along with veterinarian Donald Gamble and Sullivan’s male nurse and therapist. He read on and saw that Sullivan was the previous owner of the president’s dog, a military K9. He smiled at what he was reading. This, at least, was some much-needed pleasant news for a change. Charles felt his smile widen.

  He continued to read for the next fifteen minutes. He had not finished when his reading was interrupted by the buzzing of his sat phone. He pressed TALK and heard Lizzie Fox identify herself and quickly announce that she was at the White House, and the president was standing next to her. Instinctively, at the mention of President Connor’s name, Charles stood at attention. He listened closely and found himself nodding, then realized Lizzie couldn’t see him agreeing with her. “I understand, Lizzie. I’ll tell Myra and the others that you’ll arrive in time for dinner.” He replaced the sat phone and remained standing for a few minutes, continuing to stare at the phone. He wasn’t sure if he was elated or depressed at what he’d just heard. More to the point, what would the girls think when Lizzie arrived to share her news?

  Lizzie’s arrival meant two things—he had a dinner to prepare, and he had to call all the Sisters, since Lizzie’s unexpected visit concerned each and every one of them.

  These days, since their pardons and the capture of Hank Jellicoe, rounding up the girls wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Kathryn was trucking again; Yoko was extra busy getting ready for the Christmas season at her nursery; Nikki’s law practice was setting all-time records, causing her sometimes to work until ten or eleven at night, which meant that Alexis, her new office manager, was also working late. Isabelle was up to her eyeballs, as was Annie, with the last-minute punch list on her new farmhouse. Maggie’s social life had kicked up several notches, and she was rarely available after six. Which pretty much left Myra, who was at the ready for the most part. The truth was, Myra was so bored, she was actually puttering in the kitchen with a stack of cookbooks. The dogs were eating very heartily these days. For the most part. Preparing dinner was definitely his job.

  Another question facing him at the moment was the boys. Should he include them in the unexpected meeting or not? He knew for a fact that Jack and Bert were working almost twenty-four /seven, and Harry’s training was just as time-consuming. Ted and Espinosa had for some reason fallen into the background as Ted grappled with his newfound social freedom and all the opportunities that had suddenly presented themselves to him. Espinosa appeared to be odd man out and was spending hours and hours of quality time with his family at Annie’s old plantation home, which, in Charles’s opinion, was a good thing. At the end of the day, family was where it was at.

  Lizzie, if he remembered correctly, had only said call the girls. She hadn’t said call everyone or call the guys, too. So that had to mean this little gathering had something to do with the meeting the Sisters had had with the president at Kathryn’s surprise birthday party in Las Vegas.

  For some reason, with so much time going by, whatever that had been about, he’d assumed it had fizzled before it got off the ground.

  That left the boys. Or the guys, as the Sisters referred to them.

  Two days ago, he’d spoken to Lizzie, and she hadn’t said a word about traveling to Washington. She’d also told him that she, Cosmo, and Little Jack wouldn’t be joining them this year for Thanksgiving, because the casino industry was holding a huge dinner the night before Thanksgiving and honoring Cosmo as Lawyer of the Year. The day after Thanksgiving, Cosmo was also being cited as Man of the Year by the state of Nevada, with a huge gala that would also kick off the Christmas season in Vegas.

  Which all boiled down to one thing: Lizzie’s meeting was important and girls only. He hoped he wasn’t wrong, or the boys were going to get their Jockeys in a knot. He sighed. Sometimes, men were more angst-ridden than women.

  The sun was just commencing its march to the horizon when Charles entered the kitchen to see Myra in her robe, drinking a cup of tea. He felt himself frown. Myra did like to get up early, but not this early.

  “Bad dream, or you just couldn’t sleep, old girl?”

  “Both, I think. I hate it when I can’t remember the dream, especially if it was a good one. I let the dogs out already, but now they are waiting for breakfast. I know you have them on certain menus, so I didn’t want to disrupt your . . . meal plan. I feel jittery, Charles, like there is something lurking out there we should know about.”

  Charles leaned over to kiss Myra’s cheek. “As usual, my dear, you are spot-on with your intuition. When I was reading the paper online, the phone rang, and it was Lizzie. Despite everything that’s scheduled out in Vegas, she’s at the White House. Or she was when I spoke to her. Yes, before you can ask, it is early to be visiting the White House. She will be coming for dinner this evening and would like to speak with the girls. As yet, I haven’t called anyone. She said ‘girls,’ Myra, not ‘girls and guys’ or ‘girls and the boys.’ I think, and this is just my opinion, that we are going to be finding out this evening what the president’s agenda is in regard to that unorthodox meeting we all had at Kathryn’s surprise birthday party. I more or less thought that, whatever that was, was dead in the water.”

  Myra perked up as she watched Charles prepare a pot of coffee. “Really?”

  Charles stopped what he was doing to stare at Myra. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

  Myra smiled. “Things have been rather dull around here lately. I expected the pace to kick up a bit since we’ll be in the Christmas season in a few days. Did Lizzie give you any inkling what this was all about?”

  “Not a single clue. I assume that the president was standing right next to her. By the way, Lizzie and her little family will not be joining us over Thanksgiving.” He went on to explain about Cosmo’s awards and the presentation galas that were coming up.
“She did promise Christmas, though.”

  “Oh, I was so counting on seeing Little Jack, even though he isn’t so little anymore. I bought him some racing cars, bright red ones. I do so love to hear the little one’s laughter. I miss that so much. So very much,” Myra whispered.

  Charles winced. If he didn’t divert Myra, the rest of her day was going to be ruined. Quick like a fox, he said, “Call Nellie and Elias and invite them for breakfast. Like now, Myra, before Nellie goes out for her morning ride. I’m a little worried about Elias. He’s so forgetful lately. We were supposed to play chess yesterday, and he was a no-show. He didn’t even call,” Charles fibbed, with his fingers crossed in front of him.

  Diverted, Myra frowned as she got up and walked over to the old-fashioned wall-mounted telephone set. “That’s funny you should say that, Charles. Nellie and I were just talking about that same thing the other day, when we went riding. It will be nice to have company for breakfast for a change. I love to see people eat and appreciate your efforts, dear.”

  Charles smiled. “And you are buttering me up . . . why?”

  “Because I love you, no other reason,” Myra said as she dialed Nellie’s number. She nodded for Charles’s benefit, then spoke for a few more minutes before she hung up. She turned to Charles and said, “Elias will come in the golf cart, and Nellie will ride her horse. Elias says it’s in case Nellie breaks down. You have noticed how Elias follows Nellie in the golf cart, haven’t you, Charles?”

  “A time or two, but Nellie was imbibing at the time, if you recall.”

  Diverted even further from her original thoughts, Myra laughed. “I do recall. So what are you preparing?”

  “A ham-and-cheese omelet with green onions for Elias. Banana pancakes for Nellie. Two eggs over easy for you, with Canadian bacon, and toast and coffee for myself. I am watching my waistline so I can eat hearty at Annie’s Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I’m not so sure I would or can be as confident as you, Charles, in regard to Annie’s culinary expertise.”