

The Taming of Samantha Roe

By

Pringle McCloy

Smashwords Edition

# Prologue

At a garden party on my fifth birthday I was bitten by a rat. Not a mature rat, I'm told, but a feisty adolescent with jagged incisors and the jaws of a steel trap. Only after my father smacked the poor fellow with a garden spade did he release his grip and attempt to stagger away, to no avail. Smacked dead. My dad, you see, owned the controlling shares of a steel mill and was a take-charge kind of guy. He therefore ordered up a health inspector to collect the diseased and me to emergency for the first of several painful shots. The justifiable homicide made the evening news.

Needless to say, the Roe family was pretty much famous after that. Headlines in _The_ _Toronto Star_ screamed: _Poor Little Rabies Girl! Neighbors Pray for her Survival._ And although several weeks later when I appeared to have no ill-effects from the rodent's assault the publicity refused to subside. _The Sun_ declared me dead and produced a picture of an alien girl living at my house, playing with my toys. That hurt. Being called a Martian and getting laughed off the block by praying neighbors also hurt. Even after Bob next-door backed a dump truck over his wife – several lethal times – I wasn't dethroned as the neighborhood enigma. Silly Sally Samantha Roe had been bitten by a rat.

The name became a curse, a weapon used against me by nasty nannies, cruel teachers, and kids unable to climb the social ladder at school. Jimmy Ross, for instance. In first grade Jimmy decided to become my antagonist, self-appointed, and he seemingly thrived on tormenting me as only mean kids can do. The first day of school he bribed a poor kid with gum and candy so he could sit in front of me and administer his peculiar form of torture. "Ho. Ho. Ho," he'd whisper in a raspy voice. "There sits _silly_ Sally Samantha Roe." He'd hover there, crouching like a tiger, his buggy eyes bulging from behind his Coke-bottle glasses. "Ho. Ho. Ho!" he'd taunt. "There sits _skinny_ Sally Samantha Roe." And then came the crushing blow. "Skinny silly Sally Samantha Roe got bitten by a rat."

So I beat him up. Regularly, in fact, until about the sixth grade when I grew tired of pulverizing Jimmy on the playground and taking flak for it. He wasn't worth the trouble. In the seventh grade I turned to wearing long shaggy sweaters and biker boots and achieving grades bordering one hundred percent. Around that same time silly Sally Samantha Roe disappeared. She'd been swallowed up by a girl who was just plain weird.

It didn't help that I'd grown up in the shadow a glamorous half-sister, eight years my senior. According to family stories, Alexia had welcomed her newborn sister home from the hospital with a pillow, which she placed over my face. So much for the baby sister she was supposed to love. Pinching was what she decided on and it bloody well hurt. Now forty-eight years old, Alexia was born in the Year of the Rat and to her credit possessed many of the good traits. She was charming, elegant, intelligent and beautiful, with glossy dark hair and glassy brown eyes. On the downside, Alexia could be controlling, obstinate, resentful, cruel, vengeful and critical, all at once. The good news? She left for New York to model at age seventeen and shortly thereafter married an artesian oil well whom I called Ali Baba behind his back. They attended Dad's funeral with their monstrous little boy in 2013 and I hadn't seen her since.

Journal Entry:

_2020,_ _The Year of the Rat,_ _is fast approaching. Can you smell one?_

How could I have known when I wrote the above that both Alexia and Jimmy Ross would come back to bite me?

# Chapter One

On the short drive downtown from my home in _The Beaches_ I'd routinely practiced positive visualization. I pictured myself sitting at a desk, happy, and feeling lucky to have a job. It never worked. Still today I can recall the exact moment it happened, down to the second hand on the Rolex watch I inherited from my dad. The message zapped me like an electrical charge, electrodes exploding in my brain. When a working woman starts to envy street people, who get to lie down, it's time to push off. My problem, it seemed, was that I couldn't decide where to push to, what I'd do when I got there, or even why I wanted to go. Obviously, I had work to do on myself.

Twenty-seven jobs in total without exaggeration? That would be me. My resume read like a roadmap of Texas and I didn't even care. I was on a list to inherit serious money, one day down the road, and I didn't care about that either. When I got my inheritance and was filthy rich I'd help the street people, I knew. I'd shower them with blankets, pillows and booze. A lot of booze. After I bought the shoes, that was. I deserved a new pair of designer shoes to add to the collection spilling from my closet and snaking down the hall. I didn't smoke, you see, so the shoes were bought with cigarette money. I could pretty much justify anything if I tried.

In mid-June last year I was thinking such thoughts on my way downtown to begin yet another dead-end job. Well, I'd already bought the Jimmy Choo shoes so I was stuck, essentially. I'd get myself fired when the shoes were paid for so all would be peachy in the end. So what if I basically worked for shoes? Aside from the substantial trust fund from my dad, I was broke.

It was about Horace. Horace was the nice CFO who'd initially talked me into the job by dangling company shares under my nose. I was suspicious of Horace, who was in the process of packing up his office when I arrived to sign up. Suspicious Horace was saying,

"Jake is a psycho. And I can't take it anymore." Books went flying everywhere, some even landing in boxes. "I can't get out of here fast enough."

Horace was a pleasant looking man, about a hundred, with a whack of white hair and sad grey eyes. He was doing the right thing, retiring, rather than exiting in one of his boxes.

I straightened in my chair. "And your message?" Well, it had to come straight from Horace's mouth

"Run! Run until you fall down and can't get up. Even then he's likely to find you."

"But I bought the shoes!" I complained. "It's a commitment."

He produced a roll of packing tape and started to finish the job. "Don't say I didn't warn you then. And don't come crying to me. Jake's last assistant tore out of here, screaming all the way to the elevator, and was never heard from again. Left everything behind. Even her coat."

I nodded. "I have coats to spare."

He tossed me the exasperated look. "You looking for trouble, miss?"

"No. But it seems to find me nevertheless."

On my drive home later in the day, after deciding to keep the shoes for no reason, I thought about psycho bosses and my penchant for collecting them. Before Jake there'd been Sara, the queen of psychos. Sara was so obsessed with herself she made Narcissus look needy. She had a penchant for scary false lashes and I made the mistake of calling her Minnie Mouse. I didn't mean to. It just slipped out. That's why I was starting my new job with Jake the following day. Hopefully he'd have a better sense of humor.

Day one and not a sign of warmth from the little man, not a complete surprise, given the heads-up by Horace. As I went twirling in my new cheap chair Jake barked me into his office to state the rules.

"You will order my coffee from Starbucks so you don't have to make it. I'm doing you a favor."

I nodded.

"Small. Triple, triple. I take it at 7:15. Write that down too."

I nodded.

"You are never to come into this office when I'm not here. Write that down."

I smiled. Jake was too little to be growling such big orders. But he was cute. He looked like a GI Joe doll with his dark hair springing fully from the sides and growing a bit sparse on top. His bright blue eyes peered through a set of wire-rimmed glasses which rested near the tip of his nose.

"You will have access to my email and text messages. I'll expect you to sort out what is relevant and what is not immediately. But if it takes you that long I'll likely think you're stupid." He sat back, tossed a pencil in the air, and caught it. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

I shrugged. "Do I need to write that down?"

His mouth fell open. "Aren't you the mouthy one!"

"Is there anything else?"

He sat back in his cushy leather chair to think. "Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. I'm confused. Your CV says that you're very well educated. Too educated for this job. You should likely be in my position, I think. What's the catch?"

Oh, oh. My face turns all red when I'm about to tell a lie. "Well... Your CFO, Horace, said that I'd like it here. A lot. And job satisfaction is important to me." I could feel my face blistering. "Horace said that you were a great guy to work for."

His face twisted into a knot. "Horace said that? I'm surprised."

I cleared my throat. "Is there anything else?"

He eyeballed me. "Yes. There is. You're not a very good liar, Ms. Roe. And you'd better be smart because that mouth of yours is talking a very fine line."

He wasn't finished with me yet. Not even close. Later in the day he called me into his office for test number two. After a lengthy stretching of the neck he pointed to a picture on his desk. "That's Angie. My fiancée. We're getting married in November. She's a model."

"She's lovely," I said honestly. A Cindy Crawford type, Angie had the dark sweeping hair look, round brown eyes, and very white teeth.

"My ex-wife is a bleached blond like you."

Ouch. That hurt. Especially because my hair was naturally strawberry blond and I had the pubic hair to prove it. "Some of us just have to try harder," I said on my way to the door.

"Ms. Roe?"

I halted. "Yes?"

"You'd better to smart. You'd better be bloody well smart."

Later in the day I accidently sent Jake's dry-cleaning to his ex-wife's house. Well, it used to be his. I wondered if she thought he was coming home.

On my way to the parking lot after work I checked my reflection in _The Concourse_ windows. I still had it. Although some may think me strange, and I am, like the Europeans I don't were summer clothes unless I'm at a resort. I never wear pink or powder blue and mint green makes me nauseous. I wear black, white or grey, and shades thereof. I don't mind stripes, hounds tooth or paisley, and big jeweled belts. Sometimes I wear a hunk of white lace at the neck and chunky stones on a rope. And just to escape the boredom, in winter I sometimes wear red. I wear designer clothes mostly by Simon Chang and Alfred Sung although both have asked me to stop.

I wear my straight, strawberry-blond hair past my shoulder blades and thick bushy bangs cut straight above my hazel eyes. I prefer red lipstick and have my teeth professionally whitened four times a year. I have gel nails, bi-monthly pedicures, and I don't have a life. Or, didn't, I should say. All of that was about to drastically change.

# Chapter Two

**Journal entry:** _I now think I'm the boss's pet. One week down and still no bruises. Not so for two junior male executives who get dragged into Jake's office to hear words like idiot, moron, and loser cutting the air like a chainsaw. These words are overused in my opinion. I made a note to Sally Samantha. S.S. Email your boss a note on how to use MS Word thesaurus. And stay under the radar. I'm getting the hang of the system and of why Horace left._

On day eight Angie breezed into the office looking spectacular in a floral sundress with little cap sleeves and a flowing skirt that trailed behind her like a peacock's tail, swishing on her boots. She was a beauty and knew it. She hovered at my desk waiting for approval.

I complied. 'Your left shoulder is drooping. You should get a sling for that rock."

Her white teeth smiled. "Let's have lunch one day. I like you." With that she levitated into Jake's office to snatch him up for lunch. They were a great looking pair, I thought, as I watched them leave together – statuesque Angie and Jake coming to her armpit. Funny what money could buy.

My enigmatic boyfriend, Ty, called in the evening. He had returned home from his vacation in Portugal and was pumped. "You should have come," he drawled. "It was a blast."

"Really?" I responded icily. "I might have come had you chosen to go when I was unemployed." I could picture him shrugging.

"Don't be like that, Sam. You know I'm spontaneous. I got the chance to go and I went. Chris won the tickets so I really couldn't say no. I'm his best friend."

So, let me tell you about Ty. Ty is twenty-eight years old, which makes me twelve years his senior. And sometimes I feel like his mother but then there are benefits. He's super handsome and buffed. We met at the gym where he worked part-time as a trainer, my trainer, and the rest is history. He moved his worldly possessions – his body – into my bed, part-time.

"Chris is a babe magnet," he droned. "We could have had our pick."

"Oh, really? Of what? A seniors' bus?"

He laughed. "Don't be like that, Sam. You know I'm a one-woman man."

I did. It was a responsibility. Ty was just a big, buffed-up boy who thought the world a happy place, a nice contrast to a cynic like me.

"Can I come for a sleep-over?"

"Not tonight, Ty. I have an early morning meeting. Let's shoot for tomorrow." shoot being the operative word, since Ty was starting to get on my nerves.

I wasn't thrilled about turning forty on a weekend. In fact, I wasn't thrilled about turning forty at all. It didn't help that the average age of the secretarial pool was seventeen and some of the girls weren't old enough to have breasts. None of them ate carbohydrates and most were skinny enough to wear cheap clothing and get away with it. I couldn't remember ever being that young. A ditsy girl named Terry Lynn tried to boost my self-esteem by saying that the younger girls looked up to me and hoped they'd look as good as I did when they were my age. God! Forty. The age of respect. The age of decline.

Jake was beginning to expose his true self to me. While he'd initially given me carte blanche over his messages he suddenly decided to conduct a critical review. _Idiot_ and _moron_ were now zinging my way, along with words like _bird brain_ and _fool._ Hmm. Watch it, Jake. When your morning coffee arrives from Starbucks it just may contain something special. From the bathroom floor.

Ironically, Jake didn't see his horrible behavior as reason for me not to like him. He wanted me to like him, in fact, and to prove it, took me into his confidence. One night after work he called me into his office to say,

"What do you think, Samantha?" He patted the top of his head.

Wow! We were on first name basis now. I waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Is my hair getting thin on top?"

Trick question. I was dead either way. To say that his hairline was receding faster the low tide was the kiss of fired. I took a big deep breath. "Maybe a little. But you have quite a lot of hair still."

"Angie is twenty-five. I'm almost twice her age. I'm starting to feel like an old man. An old forty-four-year old man, to be precise."

Didn't I tell you I was a dead chicken? Trepidation came rushing into my face. "I like your look, Jake." I bit my tongue. "It's cool, actually." What I really wanted to say is that it would be cool in summer.

"Make me an appointment in the morning. And don't mention a word of this to anyone."

Ty and I met for dinner at _Canoe,_ with plans to journey on to _Little Ita_ ly for grappa and dessert. I was paying. Ty rarely had money and was sensitive to guilt-tripping so I seldom bothered, especially when hungry. We were in the process of arguing over the last chicken liver (I don't eat anything with eyelashes) when a handsome Asian businessman approached our table. He wanted to know if Ty was an actor, which caused Ty to jump to his feet and pull out a chair.

Over cognac, Robert told us that he was the director of a film being shot in Toronto and that they were short a bit part for a good-looking, buffed-up guy. Ty puffed up like a Mongolian ring-necked pheasant.

I, on the other hand, had consumed too much wine. "You can't be serious! I mean, Ty? Ty can't even tie his own shoelaces." I giggled. "He can barely manage Velcro."

Robert frowned. "I don't make offers that I don't intend to honor."

That made perfect sense to me. "Oh, I get it now! It's porno."

Ty shot me a look that could kill a calf. "You're not always funny, Sam. This isn't about you. Do you mind?"

I nodded like a plush toy in the back window of a Studebaker. Was it ever about me?

Soon Ty was telling Robert that everyone told him he looked like the late Christopher Reeves. Blah. Blah. Blah.

After making arrangements to meet with Ty the following morning, Robert left me to deal with an egomaniac who couldn't stop talking about himself. It was all Ty. Ty. Ty. He just wanted to be shot.

"I can accommodate you," I said drunkenly. "Since I carry a gun in my bag."

Ty was not amused.

My mother, the fringe lunatic, called me at three a.m. tipsy. Apparently, her toy-boy live-in had pushed her down the stairs. Did I happen to know a hitman because she wanted him shot? Since shooting seemed to be the theme for the night I asked to speak to Paulo, whom she'd bought in Brazil.

"Your mother, she tripped, Senhorita," he said in broken English. "She bounced down the stairs like a kangaroo. Trust me. If I had pushed her she'd have more than a sore ass. Her neck would be broke."

Not exactly what I wanted to hear at 3 a.m. "Put her to bed, Paulo. That's what she pays you for."

Paulo hung up on me.

I had mixed feelings about Paulo. On one hand, he was a pool boy who'd taken advantage of a lonely, older woman. But on the other he'd been able to manage Mom for seven long years and put up with her theatrics. God forbid that Eileen should come to live with me. There was just something about the 'broke neck' that stuck in my craw.

# Chapter Three

Ty's sudden rise to obscure fame went straight to his ego and to my annoyance. I might have been happy for him had he not been so blissfully happy for himself. On the first sleepover since his entry into film we curled up in my Queen Anne bed to sip champagne and prepare for wicked sex.

"I'm going to make it big, Sam. Tom and Rita said so last night."

I yawned. "Tom and Rita? So, you're on first name basis now, are you?

"We're tight. We had dinner together last night. Robert arranged it."

"Oh, Robert arranged it, did he? And exactly where was I?"

Ty reached over and pawed my face. "Don't be like that, Sam. It was a last- minute thing. Just film people."

I felt my upper lip curling into a snarl. "Film people. Hmm. And how many lines did you say you have?"

"Three. I play a goon and get shot."

"A goon? So you are in character then."

He started to tickle me and to wrestle me down in the bed. "You love goons, baby. Don't even try to deny it."

I didn't try. I loved goons. I absolutely did. What could I say?

Well, it finally happened. I turned forty on the first of July and the world didn't come to an end. I checked the mirror first crack and wrinkles had yet to set in. My breasts were in the same place as they'd been the day before and I made it to the bathroom on time. It was shaping up to be a delightfully decent day all around.

Mom called to wish me Happy Birthday and complain. Paulo had racked up a huge phone bill calling home to Brazil and she was placing him on waivers.

I took a big deep breath. "You've got the money, Mom. Just pay it. He's homesick."

"He won't be for long. If he keeps spending money like a mad fool I'll be putting him on a plane."

Oh. Oh. Danger sign. Should I lock the guest room door? "Put him on the phone, please."

Paulo said hello. "Senhorita Sam. You are so beautiful. Happy Birthday to you."

"Thanks, Paulo. About the phone bill. I'll send over a computer technician to set you up on Skype. It's free."

"Sorry, Senhorita Sam. No computers where my family lives in Brazil so Skype won't work. Telephone only. One lonely telephone."

Plan B. "I'll be ordering you a calling card and the bill will be sent to me. Understand?"

He didn't. "Bill? Who's Bill? Is he coming here tonight?"

Pool boys. I had one of my own but he was seventy-eight years old with a bad knee and emphysema and the upkeep of my pool was his fulltime job. By comparison, Paulo was a deal.

I met my girlfriend, Rena, for brunch at _Richtree_ , my first mistake of the day. She was bitchy, as usual, and started off by complaining about her job, her sex-life – or lack thereof – and finally got around to me. I knew she would.

"You're looking very mature today," she sniped. "It's sad what age does to us, huh?"

Ouch!

Rena was a pretty, dark-haired woman, a person of trailing scarves and more chunky chains than Mr. T. We'd been friends since grade school but she really was an awful lot of work.

"You're not a very good friend," she continued. "A good friend would have told me that I was getting fat."

All right, then. I guessed there were no mirrors in Rena's house, or anywhere else, for that matter. And I supposed an increase in dress size wouldn't have been a clue.

Big patient breath. "You're not fat, Rena. And the little weight gain looks good on you. You wear it well."

Rena threw down her napkin. And she almost knocked the table over while leaping to her feet. Snatching her bag from the back of her chair she stomped away. Well, so much for childhood friendships. And my birthday present – sticking me with the bill. When I finally reached the safety of my Beemer I allowed myself to scream, "Yes, Rena! You _are f_ at. And so is your cat! Pluto weighs at least eighty pounds." That, my friends, made me feel a whole lot better.

Far be it from me to let a special birthday pass by without paying a visit to Ricki Fatherwell, my fulltime psychic. Rickie always cheered me up, likely because I paid her to. She was a unique lady, a lady of turbans and flowing caftans and she lived in darkness with her six Persian cats. Candles glowed everywhere.

She held my watch in the palm of her hand. "That Asian man is still there."

I smiled. "He's been there since 1999, Rickie. You don't happen to know what's keeping him?"

"No, I don't. But he's still in your aura."

"Can you give him a little shove?"

She shook her head. "It's up to you to get out there and find him."

"Tell me again what he looks like."

"He's handsome. He has dark hair and brown eyes with red speckles. He has deep dimples in both cheeks when he smiles. I know I'd do him. He's very sexy."

"How tall is he?"

"About five nine. Your height in stocking feet. You'll have to give up heels."

"Right. Like that's ever going to happen. Maybe I'll just carry him around."

She laughed. "He's waiting for something. He's waiting for something to happen before he makes his move. But I guarantee it won't happen until you get rid of that big baby you're so attracted to."

That big baby? My big baby. "That big baby can't take me to dinner tonight because he's _on the lot_. So, I'm going home to watch movies on Netflix with a jug of wine and birthday popcorn."

She raised a black-penciled eyebrow. "He's moving. Did you know that? I feel a pull down into the States. California. And it's going to happen fast."

I felt a sudden pang. "What about me?"

"What about you?" she said callously.

"I've been with Ty for three years. I don't know if I want to be alone."

"Trust me. You won't be for long. There's another man waiting in the wings. A sophisticated man. One who can match your intrepid intellect."

"So you keep saying."

"He's still there. And there's also a boy. He's not a baby but it looks like he belongs to you. I think you're going to be a parent."

As it turned out I didn't have to spend my fortieth birthday alone. Ty phoned around seven and asked me to meet him at _Auberge du Pommier._ Tornado style, I threw on a red strapless dress and red Choo stilettos and made it to the restaurant by eight. There Ty was kicking back with Asian Robert, of course, because someone would be paying. Both rose to greet me and to sing Happy Birthday badly. I turned as red as my dress.

"You didn't have to embarrass me," I hissed as Ty pulled back my chair.

He kissed my cheek. "Now would I do that?"

"You just did." Once seated I leaned over and kissed him. Was this gorgeous creature actually going to leave me?

Later in the evening, after much wine, Robert turned to me. "Did you ever consider acting, Sam? You certainly have the looks."

Blame it on the wine. "I am an actress. Just ask Ty. Ask Ty if I have orgasms during sex."

Robert turned all red so I did. "Do I have orgasms, honey?"

"Of course, you do."

"See?" I said to Robert. "I've been acting for years."

Well, that went over like a cement balloon. Two red faces glared at me and I was red-faced too. Two men were soon to turn their attention to obscure movie details and to shut the loud-mouth out. Eek. Whatever happened to _I am Woman Hear Me Roar?_ Well, I roared. I roared like a blithering idiot. And I didn't even get myself. I had no idea why I decided to divulge the most intimate details of my sex life to a stranger, especially when I hadn't told the truth.

At the office on Monday morning a new disaster loomed. Angie came out of Jake's office in tears and headed for the washroom. Several minutes went by before she reappeared, still sniffing. She asked if I'd meet her for lunch at _Jump_ and I didn't see why not, given that my mind wasn't on my work anyway. No, my mind was somewhere in the South Pacific, on a beach, in a bikini, vowing to stay there. No more dead-end jobs. Well, Jake had eased up on me, actually, mostly ignoring me, which left plenty of time to research vacation spots online and to practice writing my letter of resignation.

Angie was still sobbing when I arrived at the restaurant a half-hour later, tissue box in hand. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was cherry red. "You're going to think I'm a big baby."

"I've seen bigger."

"You're nice."

I smiled. "I accept the compliment since I'm not very nice at all. I'm a bit of a cynic, some say."

"I hope I can confide in you. You won't go back to Jake and tattle, will you? Since you seem to be getting along."

I widened my eyes. "We do?"

She nodded. "He likes you. He says you're very smart."

I was cracking up inside. "Ok. That's nice to hear."

"He's done a terrible thing." Sniff, sniff.

"How terrible?"

"He asked me to come into the office this morning to sign papers. He said they were about the wedding so I thought maybe they were about the church or the reception but they weren't about either. They were pre-nuptial papers. He wanted me to sign a prenuptial agreement. Wasn't that a dirty trick?"

"Well, obviously you think it was. There's a river flowing down your face."

"It's so low! How could he do that to me? He's supposed to love me!"

I lowered my voice. "I'm sure he does. I don't think this has anything to do with love. It has to do with money."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she whined. "I just don't know."

I didn't think long. "Maybe this is a sign from the gods."

"But I love him! I love everything about him!"

Hmm. "Such as?"

"Such as his little hands." She made gestures with her long slender fingers. "He's so cute!"

"Get a hamster, Angie. A hamster will never ask for a pre-nup."

The following morning Angie's ring arrived at the office, buried among a dozen dead black roses. The card read, _Eat Shit._ I delivered the package on tip-toe, fully expecting Jake to shoot the messenger. I only dared to quip, "You'll need some veggies with that, Jake. I hear that shit is mostly protein." I bolted.

For an office that usually rattled and shook with activity rising above the sounds of Jake cursing people out, nothing. Dead silence. It was as if the rats had only too happily deserted their sinking boss. I went back to the South Pacific to dream. I was sipping a Breeze Cocktail while smiling to my smug self and stretching out on a lounger like a warm cat. In due time Jake appeared in his doorway.

"Come in here, will you, Sam?"

I walked softly.

Jake was seated at the meeting table and he motioned to the opposite chair. "Shut the door."

I did. And I perched on the edge of my chair.

Jake was visibly shaken. "It's just a piece of paper," he whined. "A fucking piece of paper! She should have signed it." He looked pitiful sitting there with a downturned mouth and wanting to tell me his side of things. "Angie's the great love of my life. But I'm worth seventy million dollars and I can't risk that. I was worth a hundred and forty million but my ex-wife took half. Now do you see my dilemma?

I did. Jake was a poor partner for anyone and his relationships were doomed from the start. Half of seventy, then half of that again? And again? He had every reason to protect himself from the women who started out loving him.

Later that night I watched Ty as he slept beside me. I was writing in my journal and describing the core of the man. He was twenty-eight years old and hopeful. I envied that quality since I was forty with the outlook of a lemon. I smiled when he reached up to pat my face.

"Love you, babe," he whispered.

"Love you too, hon." I felt sorry for all the times I'd called him dumbbell and barbell and a muscle-brained gym boy. Especially after he announced at dinner that he was moving to L.A.

# Chapter Four

Ty didn't take much with him to California because he wasn't a person of 'stuff.' He packed up his computer and stereo system, his baseball cards, and shipped them off to Robert's mansion in the Hollywood Hills. The clothes he owned fit nicely into the suitcase he'd purchased for the trip, so after cramming it full he promptly left on a plane. Gone. Gone was the beautiful buffed-up body in my bed and the beautiful dark head on my pile of pillows. Silly Sally Samantha Roe felt a gnawing in her gut.

Ty faithfully Skyped every night, mostly about his successes, which weren't many yet he'd passed his screen test with an A plus, he thought. He was thrilled about being fussed over by people telling him how very much he looked like Christopher Reeve. Could there be yet another Superman? As good-looking too? California looked good on him, he said. He was working out in Robert's home gym and swimming in Robert's pool. Did I not think he was looking tanned and buff? I did. Robert's personal chef was spoiling him with a lot of lean protein and creative salads full of vegetables Ty hadn't heard of. Robert was in Toronto winding things up and was going to ask me out to dinner, since he'd stolen Ty away and felt guilty. I was doing fine on my own, I told Ty, who didn't believe me. He said I had circles under my eyes.

Robert did call, actually, shortly after I talked to Ty, and I agreed to meet him for dinner the following night. I could be bought. I'd always questioned women who could be had with dinner and pricy wine and now I was one of them. Cheap. Tawdry. And lonely.

A.R. (for Asian Robert, my new code name for the producer) was a decent date, as it turned out. He was handsome and charismatic, well-read, political and articulate. I was actually beginning to like him until he slipped into his director self and offended me.

"Ty told me that you acted in high school and university. And small theatre after that."

I smiled. "Ty only knows what I told him since he wasn't alive at that time."

He smiled back. "There's a part in an upcoming film I think you'd be right for. It's small but with your face there's no doubt in my mind you could carry it off."

"Right. I'm forty years old. That line may have worked on Ty but you'll have to try harder if you want sex from me."

Robert's mouth fell open. "You think I'm having sex with Ty?"

It was the wine, I swear. "Have you seen _Cabaret?"_

"I can't believe you think this is about sex!"

It was absolutely the wine. "Oh, very well then. Now I'm offended. You don't like me. You don't think I'm good enough to have sex with you."

A.R. sat back in his chair to coldly eyeball me. "I'll tell you what I think. I think you're a very beautiful woman. You've leveraged that plus your intrepid intellect to get you nowhere. You have a job you don't enjoy, a boss you mock and condescend to, and a boyfriend you'll have to look after for the rest of your life if you stay together. I offered you something better. But you can't seem to get out of the way of yourself. You get some sort of sick pleasure in being the victim of Samantha Roe." With that he stood up, threw a few bills on the table, and stomped from the restaurant.

Only then did it occur to me that I liked A.R. and that he just might be the handsome Asian man in my aura.

The following morning, thankfully a Saturday, I woke up with a smoking headache. (Wikipedia calls this a hangover.) And sick as a dog I wrestled with a dilemma. Should I, or should I not, call up A.R. and apologize? But exactly what would I say? 'Sorry, Robert, but I thought you were bisexual? Great. Thanks. Good-bye.' Not a good idea. Plan B. Text A.R. and just say 'Sorry.' And maybe I'd include a picture of Samantha Roe getting in the way of herself. Stark naked.

But big news from Hollywood via text. Ty had landed a role in an action film and would be playing another goon. It wasn't a big role, he admitted, and he'd be killed off right away, but he was absolutely thrilled about being shot by Matt Damon. He Skyped later that night to brag.

"This is it, Sammy! This is the break I've been waiting for. I'm on my way up."

"That's great. How many lines do you have in this one?"

"Only a few. But I'm seen on camera a lot. There's a lot of shooting. The big directors will see my face. That's often how it starts."

"You do have a great face, Ty. I miss it. And playing a goon is a good thing. You could likely make a career out of playing goons because they're rarely unemployed."

"You're not funny, Sam. That's cruel."

"Then why did you laugh?"

"I laughed because I miss you. I miss your cruelty."

"I miss you too, Ty. I miss you missing my cruelty.

# Chapter Five

In mid-September Ty invited me to LA to celebrate the wrapping of his film. He'd managed to lease a flat in the _Hills_ , a sunny furnished apartment with a bedroom and den, perfect for one. It had a Spanish ambiance with a red sofa, two yellow chairs topped by orange pillows, and a wrought iron balcony under a palm tree for shady dining outdoors. To help celebrate his success Ty had invited a dinner guest, a Hollywood mogul and it wasn't Steven Spielberg.

A.R. arrived armed with several bottles of _Napa Valley_ wine. We dined on take-out from _Wolfgang Puck_ and sat outside on a warm late-summer night. Ty talked. We listened, eager to share in his achievements. Ty talked more. We listened, enjoying his enthusiasm. Ty droned on for what seemed an eternity. We listened, bored. A.R. kicked me under the table.

When Ty finally went inside to open more wine, Robert got his chance. He tossed me an evil grin. "Still think I'm bisexual, Sam?"

I bit my lip. "What can I say?"

"Not much. Just know this. If you weren't with Ty right now I'd be after you, big time."

I felt myself turning red.

"Ah huh! The lady blushes. So there is a person in there."

I squirmed in my chair. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"Why wouldn't I? That icy veneer. The sassy mouth. The embitterment that usually comes with age. You're much too young to be so old."

"Thanks, Dad. How old are you anyway? Fifty?"

He laughed. "Close. I'm forty-six."

"You look twelve."

"It's my culture."

Ty returned with the wine. "Are you two arguing again?"

We nodded. Guilty.

Just after Ty and I settled into bed for the night my cell rang. It was Paulo, upset.

"Senhorita Sam. Your mother she is sick."

"What's the matter with her, Paulo?"

"She is coughing badly and can't get out of bed. For three days now."

"You need to get her to the hospital. Immediately."

"She won't go."

"Pick her up and carry her, Paulo! You're a big strong boy."

Call upon the gods and they may or may not respond, depending on their mood. In my case, they responded with a typhoon that swept me along the QEW to Oakville for my mother's wake. Mom didn't complain, though. She was strapped into the seat beside me all neat and tidy in a jar they call an urn. And as for me? I was crying.

I was remembering childhood stuff, like being cradled in Mom's arms as she read to me or sang songs like _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star._ I remembered the sweet scent of French perfume that trailed behind her through a room, her long dark, shiny hair, her round hazel eyes. And I remembered her parties, huge parties with people smoking and drinking and cramming around the Steinway to sing. Mom would be the woman in the red taffeta dress with the full skirt belted at the waist and with matching red patent shoes. I learned a lot from mom.

On the front steps of the big brick house on Oakville's waterfront I took a deep breath. "Well, Mom," I said to her urn. "Let's go beard the lion." I swear Mom nodded. She knew Alexia better than anyone. Alexia was the daughter from her first marriage to Terrence, the creep who ran away with the neighbor's teenage girl. Enough said.

Paulo met me at the door, a sad mess. "Your mother she is gone," he mumbled between sobs. "She wouldn't go to the hospital. I tried. I tried."

I patted his arm. "I know you did. You did everything you could. It's not your fault."

"But it is! She had pneumonia. I should have made her go."

An Antonio Banderas type, Paulo wore his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and his big brown eyes with tears. He wore a white silk shirt above black pants, as usual. "I should have made her go!"

"If it's any consolation, no one made my mother do anything she didn't want to do. Don't take that on, Paulo. We have a big day to get through."

Together we walked arm and arm down the long hallway to the large family room overlooking the lake. I'd grown up in that house and knew every nook and cranny of the place. Through a glass wall of windows the family room offered a stunning vista of water and sailboats and trees across the lake. Pairs of white leather sofas nestled among animal print chairs and Moroccan treasures and leafy palm trees too. All that was missing was Mom.

But someone looking very much like Mom was seated on a sofa, legs crossed and dressed all in black. I was dressed in red as previously discussed with my mom who wanted her wake to be a happy occasion. Good starting point.

"Hello Alexia," I began.

"Hello Samantha." She adjusted the black hat with veil shielding her face. "You remember Matthew, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. How are you Matthew?"

Matthew didn't answer, not because he was being rude but because his ears were plugged with music from an iPhone as he bopped along. At twelve or possibly thirteen years old he was really cute. Arabic looking like his dad he had brown skin, brown eyes, and a mop of curly dark hair. His chubbiness only enhanced his appeal.

Alexia shook him. "Matthew is going by his first name now. Bedford. But he likes to be called Bed."

I smiled at him. "So, what does your mom say to you in the morning, Bed? Go make your bed, Bed?"

He shrugged.

Alexia was quick to clip the formalities. "We should probably go upstairs and divide Mom's jewelry. Before that greedy Pablo gets his hands on it. I want the ruby and emerald parrot broach. With the diamond wings. It's always been my favorite and Mom wanted me to have it."

I thought it odd that Alexia, sitting there dripping in diamonds, would want Mom's modest broach. "Take what you like, Alexia. I'm not ready to think about it yet."

Alexia rose up like the great Phoenix and floated up the stairs.

In due time the guests began to arrive and Paulo opened the bar. First on the scene was Mom's long lost brother, Billy the Biker. Billy had a criminal record and looked tough in a skimpy muscle shirt covering only a handful of his myriad tattoos. He lowered his Oakley shades only once to wink at me.

I smiled back since he looked friendly enough. Soon Alexia returned from her jewelry heist with an older man on her arm. He was wearing a grey face, grey hair, and the overall composite of being just that; grey. She dragged him to me.

"This is my father, Samantha. Terence."

Terrence caused the hair on the back of my neck to bristle. "He's not welcome here, Alexia. And you know it."

Terrence opened his skinny mouth. "You don't have to be rude, Samantha. I'm here to console my daughter. The poor girl has lost her mother. You of all people should understand that."

I did. I nodded to Paulo to begin.

Paulo was shaky. He mopped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "I loved Eileen. She was the most beautiful woman in the world and kind. She gave to the street people. She would have given everything away if I hadn't stopped her."

"Fucking foreigner," Terrence whispered loudly. "He's nothing but a gold digger. Over my dead body that predator will be getting anything."

"But..." Paulo stammered.

I walked over to Terrence and politely suggested that he meet me in the hall. Not an option. Once there I said softly, "You're not being helpful, Terrence. Today is a tribute to my mother and I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

His upper lip curled into snarl. "You're not an only child, Samantha. And I'm not leaving Alexia here for you to intimidate. She may be frightened of you but I'm not."

Big patient breath. "Well, let me put it this way, Terrence. This is Paulo's home and you're doing your best to embarrass him. He has suffered a terrible loss but you don't care. You're here about the money and this is not the time nor the place. Alexia will get her fair share, rest assured. Just not today."

Trust Alexia to come up behind me and butt her re-sculptured nose in. She had thrown her veil over her hat and was glaring at me through liquid black eyes. "How dare you speak to my father that way! You are a supercilious bitch, Samantha. He has every right to be here to support me. And he's staying."

I stood my ground. "No, he isn't. This is Paulo's house and I don't remember him inviting your dad here today. He wasn't our mother's favorite person, you may recall."

Alexia clutched her father's arm. "We're going back in there, Dad. This won't be Paulo's house for long."

I have a bad habit of laughing at the wrong time. So I laughed. "Go ahead. I dare you to. It will be my ultimate pleasure to call the authorities and have your skinny asses removed."

Someone was clearing his masculine throat behind me. "Sam is right," said Uncle Billy-the-Biker. You have no business being here, Terrence. You're smart enough to know that. Surely you remember what you did to my sister by running away with a child."

Terrence shifted in his cheap shoes.

Uncle Billy flexed his muscles. "Wanna take it outside, pal? I've been itching to do this for years."

I didn't see it coming but then, in retrospect, I was naive. Alexia came towards me with an open hand. Whap! Right on the face. Ouch!

"You're an evil witch, Samantha! You've hurt my dad terribly. But then, you don't really care about anyone but yourself. You never have. You're nothing but a selfish bitch."

By this time, Terrence was on the doorstep escaping and Alexia wasn't far behind. "I'll have to go with him, you realize. He needs me now."

Uncle Billy snorted. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Alexia."

I wasn't quite so glib. No, I ran out behind her hollering, "Wait! What about Matthew? Or Bed. Or whatever you call the boy. What about him?"

If she was concerned about her child she didn't show it. She called over her shoulder, "You keep him for now. With you as an example maybe he'll toughen up."

I turned to catch Uncle Billy grinning. "You couldn't be a worse example than her."

I walked over and hugged an uncle I was just getting to know."

After everyone had gone Paulo took to his bed so basically I was stuck with the chore of cleaning up. But I wasn't about to do it alone, not with a healthy boy stretched out on a sofa, earphones in place and seemingly oblivious to the world. I stood in front of him, arms crossed. "You cannot ignore me, Matthew. Selective hearing doesn't cut it with me. Get it? I am the adult. You are the child."

Smiling, he removed the device from his head. "I really didn't hear you, you know."

"Right."

While tackling the chores it was agreed that I should call my nephew Bed. Bed wasn't in the bible, he said, and he was tired of people saying that Matthew was. Agreed. Bed wasn't a very good helper, as it turned out. He broke the first wine goblet he stuck his hand into and barely escaped a cut. "We have servants to do this at our house," he whined. "I haven't had practice."

I smiled. "You'll get better as you go along. You'll improve."

Soon I discovered that Bed was tricky. When he wanted me to agree with him he nodded his curly head, and when he thought I should disagree, he shook his noggin.

"Do you think my mother is crazy?" He nodded.

I nodded back. "A little. But everyone's a little crazy."

"She's a lot crazy. She slapped you, didn't she?"

"It didn't hurt."

"Right. You still have a red mark on your face. It hurt. She slaps me too so I know how it feels."

"Oh, my god! Why would she slap you? You're just a boy."

"She doesn't like me. I'm an unwanted kid."

"Don't say that! That's terrible self-talk. I'm sure your mother loves you very much."

"No, she doesn't. She told me that I ruined her body and caused her to get a tummy tuck and she got addicted to plastic surgery."

I smiled. "It's not your fault, Bed. She shouldn't blame you for her obsession with herself."

"She blames you too, Aunty Sam. She says that you came along and stole Grandpa away. She was only his step-daughter but you were his blood daughter. She doesn't like you very much."

"No kidding."

"Were you really the Ivory baby?"

"Yes. But I don't remember it. Your grandmother sent my picture to the company. That's all I know."

"And were you really bitten by a rat?"

"More than one. But only one was a real rat. The others are human variations."

He vigorously nodded. "Humans are the worst kind of rat."

At that point I was thinking about what a great kid Bed was and how in some ways he was like a little old man. Although I'd ruled out children years ago if I had tried it I would have wanted a boy just like Bed. "Do you take hugs, Bed?"

He shrugged. "I never have. But my dad shakes my hand and pats me on the back. Does that count?"

"I suppose."

"He's going away. He's divorcing us. Did you know that?"

Someone gasped and I think it was me. "No, I didn't. How awful for you!"

"Pretty much. I'm going to be sent sway. No more home schooling. With Dad gone, Mom wants me in boarding school so she can be free to travel." He shook his head so I shook mine.

"That sucks."

"Pretty much. Dad's the only one that likes me and he's moving to Dubai."

"Can't you go with him?"

"Not really. He's got other kids over there. I'd just be in the way."

I dried my hands and opened my arms. "I'll have that hug now."

It didn't take a lot of convincing.

Early the next morning Bed and I made ready to head downtown for the reading of the will. Following his shower he gelled his hair back and threw on a clean t-shirt from his backpack. In the car he probed,

"You're sure there's something for me?"

"I'm positive. Your grandmother wouldn't leave you out of her will. She likely left you her bedroom slippers and hot water bottle. They were pretty special to her."

"Aunty Sam!"

"Bed!"

At Sears McBeth we were ushered into a boardroom on the fifty-third floor. There we were joined by Paulo and Uncle Billy and within minutes Alexia came dragging Terrence along.

"See?" whispered Bed, who was seated beside me. "I should have bet on it. My grandpa is here for a fight."

Two polished lawyers arrived at ten sharp and with little introduction set about their business. To Paulo's relief, he was left Mom's house in Oakville, two cars, and a substantial living allowance. Blue chip stocks too. He banged his fist on the table. "Thank you, god! And thank you Eileen! I love you!"

Uncle Billy inherited the cottage in Muskoka and enough money to cause a big grin. Bedford Matthew was to receive the priceless Talbot Lagos formerly belonging to his grandfather, and a handsome trust fund. He squealed like a little pig. "That car is worth a bundle! And it's all mine!"

And as for Sally Samantha, well she was to receive a high-rise building in downtown Toronto, stocks and bonds, and a pile of money. Alexia – possibly because she was married to a billionaire – was to receive somewhat less than me, but nevertheless a substantial amount.

Nobody breathed. Nobody dared. When finally Alexia leapt to her feet the room went dark. "This isn't fair! That boy over there," she pointed to Paulo. "Should get nothing. Nothing at all! He was only in it for the money. He may even have killed her in the end."

It was an interesting theory but unlikely, since Paulo didn't know he was in the will. He just sat there shaking his head.

"And why should Samantha get ten times the amount I got? She earns six figures a year."

Good guess. I actually did but the job wasn't going to last much longer.

Terrence was suddenly on his feet beside his daughter. "We'll sue! We'll sue your fucking asses off. All of you."

"Yes, we will!" Alexia screeched. "We'll sue your asses off."

The lawyers weren't overly emotional about it all. "You can try that, my dear," said the older gentleman, the sly grey fox. "But you'd only be wasting your money. Your mother's will is iron clad. These are her express wishes as of four years ago. You were left money, Mrs. Rahal. A substantial amount. You'd do well to spend it wisely."

Alexia was not about to leave things there. No, she turned her purple face in my direction. "You did this to me, Samantha! You convinced Mom to change her will and to cut me out. You've always resented me for my great beauty and you finally got your revenge. It's you I'll sue. I'll sue you for personal injury and damages. And I'll take every cent you've got."

Well, didn't I tell you that I have a habit of shooting myself in the foot? "If you want to sue someone for personal injury and damages, Alexia, I suggest you sue your plastic surgeon. He's the one that's wronged you."

That did it. Cat fight. Alexia rounded the table and came at me like a starving leopard, all teeth and claws.

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" I cried, as she tugged at a clump of my hair. Oops! I think she pulled it out.

Uncle Billy to the rescue, and it wasn't easy as Alexia was going for my eyes now, trying to claw them out. And while Billy was in the process of negating Alexia, he was attacked by her father who scrambled onto his back. Big mistake. In the grip of one large hand Terrence came up over Billy's back like a dishrag and was smacked against the table. Hard. Hard enough to cause instant bruising and to knock Terrence out cold.

Back came Alexia for my hair, which I couldn't protect since I was covering my face with my hands. Bed tried to help but she kneed him in the groin and sent him to the floor in a ball. So much for motherhood. Back came Uncle Billy and with the assistance of Paulo they managed to subdue the bobcat but not before she successfully gouged a canyon in my head.

Bed was still rolling under the table, howling, when the ambulance arrived for Terrence, who was quickly loaded on a stretcher and wheeled from the room. Alexia followed behind like a loyal dog seeing its master to the grave. In the doorway she turned back to Uncle Billy. "You've killed him!" she shrieked. "You've killed my father, you criminal! They should have left you in jail!"

When they'd gone, Uncle Billy said, "He'll only need an icepack and a good stiff drink. And it looks like you'll have the boy for a few more days if that's alright with you, Sam?"

I nodded. "It's plenty alright. He's my new best friend."

By this time Bed had managed to navigate a chair. He smiled. "Yup. Aunty Sam and I are BFFs."

Families. Don't you just love them? I challenge anyone to top the donnybrook that broke up the reading of my mother's will.

# Chapter Six

On the drive to _The Four Seasons Hotel_ two days later, Bed and I said our goodbyes.

"You're the first dwarf to come for a sleepover," I told him. "So, I'll have to give you a code name. What about GB. For Grumpy Bear. That's what you were this morning."

He shot me a grin. "That was nothing. I can be a lot worse. I've been on my best behavior at your house."

"I'm going to miss you."

"No, you won't. You'll find a new dwarf right away. You'll replace me faster than a lightbulb."

"You're only saying that because I beat you at Scrabble."

"Yeah. You beat me because you cheated."

"You didn't say I couldn't cheat."

"It's in the rules."

"No, it isn't. Nowhere in the Scrabble rules does it say that you can't cheat."

"Yes, it does. It says that you can't make up new words."

"But does it say anything about cheating?"

"It's understood."

"No, it isn't. It has to be in the rules. Every good cheater knows that."

"Aunty Sam!"

"Bed!"

He shook his curly head. "You're supposed to be an example to me. A mentor."

I made a face and stuck out my tongue.

"Nice. Has anyone ever told you that you're weird?"

"Quite a few people as a matter of fact."

"You remind me of that old chick. The singer with the pointed bra."

"Madonna?"

"Yeah. She's a hundred and she's never gotten over being weird. You likely won't either."

"I didn't start our weird, you realize. I didn't turn weird until I was bitten by a rat."

"Oh, sure. Blame the rat. I have this feeling that you're going to blame everything on the rat forever."

"Not everything. Some of it was Jimmy Ross's fault."

His dark eyes widened to saucer size. "Jimmy Ross? Is that what you called the rat?"

"I should have. But my dad killed it so it didn't need a name after that."

"You're weird, Aunty Sam. That's it! My code name for you. WC. For Weird Chick."

I gave him the thumbs up.

Cruella d'Gold-digger was standing in the port-cochere, luggage piled high behind her, when we pulled up.

Bed heaved a huge sigh. "Oh great! Boarding school. That's where I'll be tomorrow."

"Sounds grim. Is it written in stone?"

"Pretty much. Mom's leaving for Spain. We have an old villa over there. It's creepy. Ghosts rattle around at night and you can hear chains. I guess boarding school won't be so bad after all."

"Can you not stay with your servants and nanny? Surely you've done that before when your parents travelled."

"Not anymore. They've mostly been let go. No, I'm going to boarding school but I won't be there long. I'll just run away." A rear trickled down his cheek.

"We'll figure something out."

Alexia banged on the window. "Are you two going to help me with the luggage or not?"

"Not," Bed whispered and we both giggled. "We don't work here."

I popped the trunk and a bellman loaded the bags.

The previous evening my sister and I had formed a quasi-truce when she phoned to arrange for the transfer of Bedford. She said sorry, I said sorry, and neither of us meant it one bit. But for Bed's sake I offered to transport the two of them to _Pearson_ to catch a plane and she didn't argue. For once. Understandably, I was wearing a hat for protection. Half-way up the 427 I began,

"Alexia. Why don't you leave Bed with me for a while? I'm not going back to work right away and he'd be good medicine. With mom's passing and all."

She vehemently shook her head. "He has to go to school, Samantha. I've made arrangements. I can't change them now."

"Why not?" Bed piped up from the back seat.

Samantha to the rescue. "I'd put him in school, Alexia. Private school. We have those in Toronto, you know. And he'd be good company in the evenings and weekends and could take my mind off things. And you've suffered a few losses recently too. I think it would be good for you to get away and not have to worry if things are working out for Matthew in boarding school."

I had a little help from the back seat. "Please! Please, Mom!"

Alexia was chewing on her lip. "He hardly knows you, Samantha. And you hardly know him. You've never been around children. You're not exactly knowledgeable in that area."

"Parenting skills can be learned."

She nodded. "Most people start with babies. You've been single a long time. And you're very selfish, if you'll excuse the bluntness. And Matthew is very spoiled. He's used to servants and getting his own way."

Bed tapped her on the shoulder. "I won't have servants in boarding school, will I Mom?"

"I guess not."

One last shot. "Why don't we give it a try? Bed wants to and I want to as well. If it doesn't work out it's boarding school, no harm done. In the meantime, you'll know that he's safe and that he's loved."

"I won't be loved in boarding school," Bed chirped.

Alexia sighed. "Well, the two of you have painted me into a corner. If I put Matthew in boarding school now I'll be the bad person. You leave me no choice. But let me be clear. This is only a temporary solution and I will be back. And there's a good chance that Bedford Matthew will be put in boarding school. A very good chance."

# Chapter Seven

Funny how fairytales, written for children, often contain an evil force such as a witch. It wasn't _whether_ Alexia would return it was _when._ In the days to come Bed and I would venture into our new relationship cautiously, knowing that at any moment it might be ripped away. Like Mom's jewelry box, for instance; the whole thing gone. Gone in Alexia's hot little hands. Not that she got the parrot broach. I was too smart for that.

Bed was as excited about private school as he'd been about boarding school; he simply didn't want to go. On the drive to Etobicoke he grumbled all the way.

"I don't know why I have to go to stupid private school. I'm a rich kid. I can afford to be home schooled."

"Yes, you can. But you need life skills and you're not going to learn them sitting on a sofa. And how are your math skills, Bed? What's 9 x 7?"

"I have a calculator. I'm not an idiot."

"I bought flash cards. We're going to practice your times tables every night."

"What? Even weekends?"

"No. Weekends are for games."

"So I can watch you cheat at scrabble? I might as well do flash cards."

"I'm just trying to teach you to think."

He groaned. "I'm thirteen. It's too late to start thinking. Besides, I'm a rich kid. I can pay someone to think for me. That's what rich people do. They buy thinkers."

When we pulled into the school parking lot Bed braced his feet. "Please don't make me go in there, Aunty Sam."

"I'm going in with you. You won't be alone."

"But I don't know anyone."

"You'll make friends. Kids like yourself. Rich kids. It's private school, remember. Not cheap."

His lip trembled. "I hate kids! There are kids in my building and they call me names."

I smiled. "I've been called names. Try _silly Sally Samantha._ Or _gawky geek."_

"You were a geek?"

"First class. But it didn't hurt much. Geeks are pretty good at things. Look at Bill Gates. Or Mark Zuckerberg."

He nodded. "Do you think I could be a geek?"

"Without even trying."

He opened the door.

That night Bed went to bed with a smile on his face. He'd made two new friends, a girl named Holly, who was pretty and smart, and a boy named Adam, who didn't mind wearing a school uniform so Bed thought that his wasn't so itchy after all. He'd written an essay in English class and although it had yet to be graded the teacher read the first few lines and said it was good. Oh, and he'd changed his name back to Matthew but I could still call him Bed. Nobody else could call him Bed but Aunty Sam.

The arrival of my nephew not only caused a ripple in my life it created a tidal wave. In theory, Ty thought it would be cool to have a kid with us for the long weekend in LA but in practice he saw Bed as serious competition. It didn't help that Bed ate the last bowl of Coco Puffs and the last splash of milk before Ty got out of bed that first morning. Talk about dog lips dragging on the floor. Ty wanted Coco Puffs. He needed his Coco Puffs and he started to slam things, like the front door on his way to the store.

"The fridge is empty!" I called behind him. "Take my credit card. I just inherited money so I'll buy."

Ty never looked back. And he returned with cereal and milk only. "I mostly eat out," he whined. "Or order in. I don't have time to cook."

"Or shave," I jested. Well, he did look scruffy. "No razor blades?"

Ty's bottom lip dropped into a pout. "Facial hair is in. And I have razor blades. But that fat kid over there will likely eat those too."

On the near-by sofa, Bed was busy playing games on his iPad but I thought his head drooped lower.

"That kid over there has feelings, Ty. You owe him an apology."

Ty dragged his feet back to bed.

I sat down beside my nephew on the sofa. "This was a mistake, Bed. I thought the two of you would hit it off and we'd all have fun together. But it doesn't look like that's going to happen."

He smiled an evil smile. "Oh, I'll have fun. There are a few things I'm going to do here before I leave."

"Such as?"

"Can't tell. It's a surprise. But let's just say there'll be a flood."

"Bed!"

"That's why I can't tell you. You'll guilt trip me. But just know this. I watch a lot of TV."

As I sat there enjoying a moment with Bed the words _au revoir, hasta la vista,_ and _adios_ went dancing through my head. This was going to be easier than I thought. But with nightfall came a charming guest, a welcome relief from Ty's pouting throughout the day. A.R. arrived with his usual basket of Napa wines and an interesting take on Bedford Matthew. At the dinner table the two bantered back and forth, prompting A.R. to say,

"This boy is funny. He's smart and I suspect talented. He's good looking too. You might want to consider acting school for him, Sam."

Bed snickered. "Acting school? You're joking!"

"No, I'm not. Sam can tell you that I don't joke a lot."

I nodded. "He has no sense of humor. None."

Ty stood up, stretched, and headed inside for the sofa to snore.

Bed retreated to the little den, which also served as his bedroom, to watch TV, leaving me to complain to Robert. "Ty is jealous of Matthew."

"No kidding! Not to be trite but Ty has his nose cut off."

"Not the best host, I have to say. He has totally ignored Matthew. Hasn't said a word to him since Matthew ate the last bowl of Ty's cereal this morning."

He heartily laughed. "Not the last bowl! How old is Ty? Three?"

"Pretty much. He's being a child."

A.R. pushed back his chair. "Not to change the subject but the boy has changed you. You're almost human now."

"Human? Me?"

"Yes, you. I think you've finally found someone more important than yourself."

"Thanks a lot!"

"Touché. For the bisexual thing."

I giggled.

"I'll take the two of you to Disneyland tomorrow. To get you out of Ty's hair."

At the airport Monday morning Ty and I said our permanent good-byes. It was easy. Todd began by saying,

"I guess this is it for us."

I nodded. "I guess it is. It's been swell."

"You're taking this very lightly."

"Yes."

"You don't have to be so damn cold."

"What am I supposed to do, cry? There isn't much to cry about. We had a lot of good times and, essentially, it's over."

He couldn't leave it there. "But I need you to understand. I can't deal with a kid. Especially someone else's. I don't know if I'll ever want kids. But certainly not right now."

I must have looked sad thinking about Ty's poor children being chastised for polishing off his Coco Puffs because he rattled on.

"You've changed, Sam. And not for the good. You used to be more fun."

I shrugged. "It isn't always about fun. Sometimes it's about responsibility."

"That's exactly it! That kid over there has turned you into an old lady."

Big deep breath. "You'll always be important to me, Ty." With that I spun around and headed for my nephew. Hmm. Bed for Ty? As exchange rates go I figured I got a deal.

By mid-October, Bed and I had settled into a quisi-peaceful co-existence. It took compromise on both parts. I had to can the jazz, since both Ella Fitzgerald and Oscar Peterson were dead and weren't about to hone their skills, he thought. In return, I asked for order in the guest room, where Bed preferred a ghetto of clothing, school books, magazines, junk food wrappers, and pictures of Arianna Grande plastered on his walls. I allowed the pictures.

Paulo was not doing well. He often phoned crying and some days he couldn't muster the energy to crawl out of bed. I made a point of taking Bed to visit on Sundays and when Paulo wasn't a total mess we took him out to brunch. Sometimes Uncle Billy would barrel in from Huntsville and make it a party, although I often had trouble prying Bed out of the Talbot Lagos in Paulo's garage. With the arrival of changing leaves in late October, red sumacs and maples lined the winding driveway leading to Paulo's red brick house. Lake Ontario was choppy and so was Bed.

On the doorstep he spouted, "I'll be driving in three years you know."

"That's scary. Why don't we tack on a few years? Like ten."

"Three. And I'll likely be the only kid we know driving a multi-million-dollar car."

"How about we start with a Volkswagen? Until you get the hang of things. If you smash it up no harm done."

He scowled. "Right. Like, you drive a Beemer convertible and I'll be driving a Volkswagen? Not in this lifetime!"

A scary picture floated through my mind, a picture of Bedford Matthew driving away in his antique car and heading for the highways of New York state. I gulped.

With Paulo in tow we arrived at the restaurant to join Uncle Billy who was sipping on a beer.

"Don't say anything sad," I whispered to Bed. "Paulo needs a good cheering up."

"Should I tell jokes?" he whispered back.

"No. Definitely not. Especially the ones you make up yourself. They're pitiful."

When we'd settled in Uncle Billy said, "We're an odd family, don't you think? Me, the old hippy uncle. The boy with the funny New York accent. The Brazilian straight out of Zorro, and the gorgeous strawberry blond. We should sell pictures at the CNE. Or, shoot a short film to air at TFF."

Bed liked the idea. "What would we call it? Slumdog IV?"

That got smiles so Bed shifted gears. "There's a kid at our school with six fingers."

Uncle Billy nodded. "I've heard of that."

"He has two middle fingers so when he gives the finger it has _major_ impact."

Paulo laughed. "Are you just making that up, Matt?"

He nodded. "I just thought it up right now."

This was only the beginning of a string of nonsense that was _so_ not funny and mostly in poor taste. But at least Paulo was laughing. At last Bed said, "Want to hear me sing _Oh Canada_ in French?"

Paulo could hardly wait. "Did you learn it in school?"

"Naw. I taught it to myself." His brown eyes danced with mischief. "Ok. Here goes. _Au Canada. Croak. Croak. Croak. Croak. Croak. Croak."_

Nervous laughter.

I coughed. "That's not very nice, Bed!"

"Then why did everyone laugh?"

"They laughed because they were uncomfortable."

"They didn't look uncomfortable. They looked pretty happy to me."

Uncle Billy was still grinning. "You made that up?"

Bed nodded. "Just now."

Billy turned to me. "He's a funny kid."

"Don't encourage him. He's in big trouble when we get home."

Bed held out two steady hands. "What are you going to do, Aunty Sam? Spank me?"

Teenagers. Alien Creatures. I never liked them even when I was one and now I had one of my own."

Along with Bedford Matthew came a plethora of professionals associated with parenthood: the doctor, the dentist, the barber etc. In addition, there was holiday preparation, like for Halloween, fast approaching. Bed was ten feet off the ground. In the past he'd only been allowed to call on neighbors on his parents' penthouse floor and now he could rake in 'a haul'. He planned to eat candy until his teeth fell out.

As for costume selection, Bed was difficult. He'd already been Darth Vader and Donald Trump twice. He would design his own, he told me, so I needn't worry about a trip to the costume shop. Then, at the risk of insulting every pirate since Captain Hook he made a simple eye patch and spent hours whittling a sword from the red maple in my front garden. He painted it silver and black.

Dressed in full regalia he stood admiring himself in the full-length mirror at the back of my walk-in closet. "How do you like me now, Aunty Sam?" The white lacy blouse he'd snatched without asking looked fine over a pair of black pants rolled up to the knee.

I blew the dust off my witch's hat. "I can't believe it. My Bed all grown up. A pirate."

"You're not funny."

"Then why did you laugh?"

"I laughed because you're so not funny."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I see." His glossy brown eyes grew wide. "So, you're the boss of what makes sense?"

"Maybe. And you want to know something else? You won't find another kid wearing that exact same costume tonight."

"I thought about that. At least I won't have the cheap people saying, 'weren't you just here?"

Our plan was to carve a pair of pumpkins for the front steps and to add candles. We'd give out treats until seven-thirty, then head into the night. At the kitchen island Bed said, "Your pumpkin looks like Robert."

"No, it doesn't. I personally don't see the resemblance at all."

"You'd have to be blind not to. Your pumpkin looks Chinese."

I studied my work of art. "Your pumpkin looks like a pumpkin, Bed. Are you ever going to carve it?"

He shook his head. "I'd just cut my fingers off. You do mine, too, Aunty Sam. We might as well have two Chinese pumpkins."

At seven-thirty sharp we stood on our front steps preparing for the kill.

"A pillow case?" Bed whined. "That's what I'm taking for treats?"

"Sorry. I'm out of garbage bags."

"You're not funny. At home I have a Gucci bag with pumpkins on it. That's what rich kids have to take on Halloween."

"How about a hot ass? Do rich kids have that to take too?

He shut up.

On the front step of my neighbor's house Bed said, "Do you know your neighbors?"

"No. Aunty Sam is a snob."

"Oh great. They might run us off with guns."

Elderly Mrs. Johnson opened her door. "Samantha! How nice to see you! And this must be the young man everyone is talking about. I have something for him." She reached behind the door and produced a box of Laura Secord chocolates. "I only give out the best. For the special children."

Bed thanked Mrs. Johnson for about ten minutes. On the way to the next house I said,

"It will cost you. She'll expect you to shovel her snow all winter long."

"Shovel snow?" Bed said excitedly. "What a concept! It sounds like fun."

Right. For five minutes it would be fun before he deferred to Aunty Sam. At the next house we were greeted by a crabby old man wielding a cane. "I don't give treats out to full-growns."

Bed stared at his feet.

"You're too big to be trick or treating."

Bed backed away, leaving room for me to approach. "Well, sir," I spouted. "He is thirteen. The age some boys prefer _not_ to trick or treat. Some thirteen year olds, for instance, are out there tonight performing B and E's. Or egging cars. Like that Lexus in your driveway. You should probably put it away before this 'full-grown' gets an itchy arm." With that I grabbed Bed's sleeve. "And you should probably board up your windows," I called over my shoulder. "Because the Egg Man Commeth." With that I steered Bedford off the steps.

Bed started to giggle. "You're good, Aunty Sam. I didn't know what to say."

"I've had practice. What's say we give up door knocking and just stroll down to the boardwalk? We have plenty of treats left over at home."

"Good plan. In case you haven't noticed I don't handle rejection well."

# Chapter Eight

Re-enter Jake who was texting with annoying regularity. He'd waded through the temp pool like water and he now wanted someone with brains. And yes, he knew I was newly filthy rich but that shouldn't affect my work ethic. He needed me and was willing to give me a substantial raise. Bed couldn't believe that I was going back to work. Neither could I, actually. But the truth was, with Bed in school I was bored. I had the morning papers polished off by 8 a.m. and a best seller by noon. Daytime TV was dreary enough to make me cry and I wasn't certain whether I should slit my throat or slice off my head and bash in my teeth as it rolled around the floor. Something had to give.

"Are you a glutton for punishment?" Bed asked. We were hanging out in my walk-in closet choosing my outfit for the following day. "You don't need to work and your boss sounds like a screwball."

I nodded. "He is a screwball. But that's part of the fun. If he was normal I might not like him at all."

"You're a screwball." He was riffling through my clothing faster than a hungry skunk. "This whole wall has price tags still on. How come?"

"Obviously I haven't worn them yet."

"Why not?"

"I'm saving them for good."

He laughed. "What is good? You don't go to church." He pulled a red suit with a straight skirt out. "I like this one. You should wear it tomorrow."

"Not possible. I never wear two pieces of the same outfit together. I'm not Hilary Clinton. No, I mix red with other colors, such as black. Or black and grey."

He made a sour face. "No kidding! It looks like a funeral parlor in here. At least you've got a bit of white."

"White isn't a color so I can get away with it."

"You're weird."

"I know."

"Haven't you ever wanted to be normal?"

"No. Have you?"

We finally decided on a hound's tooth jacket, black slacks, and a big rhinestone belt. Jimmy Choo patent pumps with cutout toes finished the look but when I reached for my mother's parrot pin, Bed hooted.

"You'll look like an old lady if you wear that."

"That's how I get respect."

He kept shaking his head. "That's a pitiful parrot. It clashes with your belt."

"No, it doesn't. It compliments it. Besides it's a precious piece with diamonds and rubies and emeralds. I'm going to wear it in the center of my white lace collar."

"I have a better idea. Why don't you wear it on the sole of your shoe?"

I chased him out of the closet.

I decided not to tell my nephew that I'd absconded with the broach his mother so wanted for herself and that essentially, I was a thief. I was a thief because Mom wanted Alexia, her elder daughter, to have the piece she'd admired as a girl. Well, so had I.

If Jake was grateful for my return to the office he didn't show it. He was much too busy barking orders and calling me a fool for not immediately responding to the 4500 emails in my inbox. And he was quick to call me into his office to bark,

"I need you to do me a favor. I know it isn't in your job description but could you please run down to Shoppers in the Concourse to have a prescription filled? It's phenobarbital for the dogs." He pointed to the picture on his desk.

Well, things certainly had changed in my absence. Gone was Angie's beautiful face and in its place sat a portrait of three fine dogs: a Russell Terrier, a Sheepdog, and a Great Dane the size of a small pony. They looked pretty happy to me, possibly because of the drugs.

"Phenobarb was big in the seventies," I quipped. "My mom was on it. But I didn't know that dogs did it too."

Jake threw up his hands. "You are trying my patience, Ms. Roe."

The pharmacist and I had quite a chat about the prescription, since it hadn't come from a vet. It had been written by a medical doctor but that didn't mean it wasn't for the dogs, she thought. Maybe they were having seizures since Phenobarbital controlled them in animals. Maybe just one dog, she thought, as it would be unlikely all three would require sedation. Funny, but Jake didn't strike me as the Phenobarbital type. I pictured him more a white powder guy but who was counting? It was none of my curiosity.

Jake's new hair plugs apparently came with amnesia. Later that same morning he called me into his office to laugh behind his departing client's back.

"Did you see that guy, Sam? He's my age and as bald as a bowling ball." He snatched a hand mirror from his desk drawer to smile at himself. "I'm glad I don't have that problem."

Now do you see why I wanted to go back to work? I just couldn't seem to get enough aggravation. I wanted to say, but didn't, 'Twenty thousand dollars usually takes care of that little problem. Was it a lovely holiday in Mexico?' Instead I said, "Your hair is growing in nicely, Jake. You'll soon be donating it to cancer patients."

That did it. He jumped up and started to holler, "Get your sarcastic ass out of here! I don't know why I wanted you back. You're nothing but a big fat mouth!"

He was still hollering half an hour later when I escaped to meet Angie at the food court for lunch. Apparently, she and Jake had been communicating through dinner and wine.

I almost choked on my noodles. "Why?"

"I'm starting to weaken."

"Stay strong."

"Why?"

"You can do better."

"Better than Jake?"

"Yes, better than Jake. Way better."

Her glossy brown eyes grew wide. "Oh, I get it now! You're just joking. You like Jake. I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn't have come back to work. You're just fucking with me."

"You think? Try this. If you reconcile with Jake you might as well stick a hot poker in your eye. Now do you think I like him?"

She laughed. "Yes, I do. I still do."

"And the pre-nup?"

"I have my own money. I've made a bundle modelling and it's invested. I don't need Jake's money."

I put down my chopsticks. "What do you need, Angie?"

"I need Jake."

Bed was now a latch key kid and was carpooling with Adam's mom. The boys planned to cook dinner my first day back at work so I arrived home to quite a production of pots and pans piled high and two boys grinning. Adam was the second cutest kid on the planet, next to Bed. He was Chinese Canadian and with those great genes came large brown eyes and thick dark hair that stood straight as a brush atop his head. He looked like a raccoon.

I started off politely. "You must be Adam."

He grinned. "Not Adam. I'm the neighborhood pervert. I already got Adam and now I'm after Matt."

"Then you'll have to deal with me."

Adam was busy finishing up a sign for the refrigerator. DISASTER AREA. STAY CLEAR. FALLING DEBRIS.

"Dinner is a surprise," Bed said. "Go get changed. We're setting the dining room table so don't wear sweats."

"Ok, Dad. I'll dress for dinner." When I returned minutes later wearing a black jumpsuit with jeweled straps, I was greeted by wolf whistles.

Bed pulled out a chair. "Mademoiselle?"

Candles yet. My grandmother's Wedgewood china too.

Adam carried in the first course. "Mushroom soup. The very best. And crackers!"

Bed poured my wine. "I opened the bottle in the fridge. I hope it's too your liking."

Nose in the bowl I sniffed like a beagle. "Quite lovely. Fragrant." I took a little sip. "And it finishes well on the tongue." I held up my glass. "A toast to the hosts of this very elegant meal."

They thrust their water goblets in the air. "Cheers to us all!"

"And to Tiny Tim," Adam added and the boys giggled.

The meal was nicely done and thoughtfully prepared. Salad from a bag with Mandarin oranges added, stuffed chicken breasts from _M &M_, and molten lava cakes from _President's Choice._ Coffee followed dessert and cognac for me was poured into a Waterford snifter.

"I want to thank you dwarfs," I said in the end. "This was splendid. Absolutely splendid. So, I'm waiting."

Bed's eyes grew huge. "For what?"

"For the catch. For you to tell me what it is that you want. You have the word favor in your voice."

"I do?"

"Yes. And since you've pried me with food and booze it's a good time to try me."

He giggled. "I do want something."

"No kidding."

"Well..."

"Spill."

"There's a spot on Adam's hockey team. I'd like to play hockey."

Well, knock me over with a canary feather, why don't you? "Can you even skate?"

He vigorously nodded. "I can skate. I used to go to _Rockefeller Centre_ and skate all the time. It's what I did in winter."

"But don't you have to try out for a team and actually earn a spot?"

"It's house league," Adam piped up. "Anyone can play. We're not that good. We just play for fun."

Right. I'd heard about hockey parents and it didn't sound like their kids played for fun.

A chorus of "Please, Please, Please," followed.

Big thinking breath. "I'm not going to say yes right now. But I will give the matter some thought."

Bed pushed back his chair. "But you didn't say no!"

"No. I didn't."

He jumped to his feet and applied a strangle hold to my head. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Aunty Sam!"

Oh, sure. Now I was going to say no?

The wedding was on again with great kafuffle and with the highly-nervous wedding planner, Jacque, coming and going. With even more reason to freak out now, Jake was screeching like a banshee at every little thing, popping pills faster than Elvis. And then the inevitable happened. He called me into his office to say that I was now in the wedding party because someone had died. Great. I was more of the opinion that someone had just run away. I wanted to.

In the meantime, I took Bed shopping for hockey equipment, skates, and a hockey stick the price of a small car. In the store he waved it in the air to try it out.

"Don't you dare break it! That stick is for passing down to grandchildren."

His eyes sparkled. "Like the parrot broach."

"Like the parrot broach. Since you like it so much I'm leaving it to you."

The night before the big game Bed didn't sleep well and, quite frankly, neither did I. He'd bombed at his mid-week practice and likely wouldn't have improved much without more time on the ice. When I heard him stirring at three a.m. I went to his room.

"Practice positive visualization, Bed. That's what Tiger Woods does and he hardly ever falls down."

"Ha. Ha. You're not funny. But I am better at golf. I likely should have stuck with that."

In the end he likely should have but we left it there.

The morning dawned poorly, possibly because it the pitch black when I drove the budding all-star to the arena. And it only got darker from there. Sequence of events: 1. Bed swept the ice like a Zamboni. 2. Laughter filled the arena. 3. His teammates chastised him, all except for Adam who pretended not to know him. 4. The coach benched him. 6. Parents called him names. 5. Bed's face turned purple. 7. So much for playing hockey for fun.

At home following ' _the great humiliation_ ', Bed sat on the living room sofa, head in hands. "Now I know why people drink."

I sat beside him. "I doubt it helps."

"Oh yeah? I tried booze and it makes things better."

"For how long?"

"Doesn't matter. Even a minute would help. I feel bad."

Perhaps Alexia had been right about my parenting skills. "Maybe you should try crying."

He elbowed me in the ribs. "I'm saving that for tonight. In bed. I just need something now."

"What about ice cream?"

He waved a finger at me. "Do not use that word in my presence. Ever!"

"What word? Cream?"

He elbowed me again. "You're not funny."

"What about French fries? I could make poutine."

"With homemade gravy and cheese curds?"

I rubbed his curly head. "From scratch."

"Could you put a little bourbon in it?"

"Right. What do you know about bourbon?"

"They drink it in America. I'm from there remember. And when I grow up it will be my drink of choice."

"That's a great aspiration, Bed. It beats the hell out of professional hockey."

It was to be our dinner out with Robert, who was in Toronto one last time. It didn't take much convincing to convert him to dinner in, though, when I whispered that Bed and I were in hiding with the drapes drawn and wouldn't emerge for a week. Big mistake. By the time A.R. arrived with flowers and wine, Bed had moved past the maudlin stage and onto belligerent.

"I'm going to buy myself a guitar," he spouted. He was perched at the kitchen island watching the spaghetti boil.

A.R. was busy adding spices to the sauce. "What kind of guitar?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Aunty Sam says I can't have one until I earn a C in math but that's crap. I'm a rich kid. We don't have to earn anything. We just buy it."

I was amassing a pile of carrot ribbons for the salad so I threw one at him. "That's not our deal. No C in Math, no guitar. In fact, you're in such a good mood you should go get the flash cards and practice." I turned to A.R. "So far he's made every excuse in the book not to practice. He has to go to the bathroom. His Mom is on Skype. His Dad is on Messenger. His grandmother died. Again. What do you think about that Robert?"

A.R. looked very handsome in a yellow cashmere pullover above brown pants. "I think leave me out of it. It isn't my deal."

Bed eyeballed him. "So, what are you, a wuss?"

"Bed!"

"Aunty Sam! I deserve a fucking guitar."

I pointed to his room and he stomped away.

"He's had a bad day, Robert. He humiliated himself at hockey and now he wants to drink."

He laughed. "From where I stand he has it pretty good." But he didn't stand there long. As soon as Bed disappeared he moved to my side and put his arm around my waist. "I'd say Matthew is a very lucky boy."

Dinner was a somber affair with Bed moping and Robert rallying like a social director. He fizzled. "You should take up acting, Matthew. You have a raw natural talent, I think."

Bed's head was about an inch from his plate. "Ah huh. That'll fix me."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Robert tried.

"You haven't seen me play hockey."

"Lots of people can't play hockey."

"Who can't?"

"I can't."

"I'm talking about _people!_ "

I shot him a look. "You're being rude, Bedford. You owe Robert an apology."

He shrugged. "I told him I had a bad day. He shouldn't try to talk to me."

A.R. shot me a big fat smile. We were cool.

After Bed left to play video games I told Robert to stay at the table while I cleared things away. A mistake. He sat there sipping wine and ogling me.

After we'd settled into the living room with cognac and coffee I said, "You needn't ogle me, Robert. I'm not going to sleep with you."

He grinned. "I didn't think so but I thought, no harm in trying. But why aren't you going to sleep with me, exactly?"

"I'm in mourning."

"I understand. Your mother."

"That and Ty."

"Ty's not dead."

"He is to me."

He sat back in his chair to frown. It was a deep frown above a pair of round brown eyes with red speckles. "You're a very strange girl, Samantha."

I sat back in my own chair. "You won't get to first base talking to me like that."

He set his coffee cup on the table between us and leaned forward. "When you're with that boy you're like putty you're so soft. But put an adult male in your presence and you go all stiff. Like a manikin. You've built a shield around yourself and I don't know if I'll even try to break the barrier. It just may be too scary on the other side." He stood up. "But I'll leave you with something to think about. If you ever want to try for a real relationship I'm your man."

I sat there in the dark watching the candles on the mantle burn and the wax drip slowly down. Did I or did I not want Robert to be my man? Was it worth the risk when this was a man who could really hurt me?

# Chapter Nine

Bedford attributed his failure at hockey to a simple mathematical equation, the factors being height and distance of the fall to the ice. His legs were simply too long. He explained this to Uncle Billy and Paulo at brunch the following day.

"I'm too old to learn hockey now. You need to learn it when your legs are short so the fall doesn't hurt so much."

Paulo thought he should try other sports. "I play soccer, Matthew. Maybe you should try soccer."

"Do you fall down?"

"Yes, I do. Quite frequently. But grass is soft. It's alright to have long legs in soccer."

Bed sat up in his chair. "Maybe I'll try soccer." He nodded to himself. "And maybe I'll become famous like that Ronaldo guy with Madrid. Or the old Italian guy. Totti."

Paulo nodded. "Francesco Totti is one of the greatest. As is Ronaldo. You're choosing good role models."

Bed kept nodding. "Soccer it is, then. And I'm going to be good."

The following morning Bed woke up with a fever. His eyes were crimson and he came to the kitchen wrapped up like a hotdog in his comforter. "I'm having chills, Aunty Sam."

He certainly was. He had a temperature of a hundred and two and was sentenced to the sofa while I called the doctor, the school, and Jake who didn't take my message well.

"There's no way, Sam! The wedding is this weekend and I can't be without you now. How old is that kid anyway? Twenty-five? He can look after himself."

"I need to be with him, Jake. The doctor says I'm to keep an eye on him and if there's any change at all we need to go to emergency. It's not optional. I won't be in."

"But I need you here!"

"My nephew needs me more. I'll be there tomorrow."

"You'd better be."

"Or what?" I said but I'd already clicked off my cell.

With mugs of hot chocolate, Bed and I settled in on the sofa in my study to watch TV. We argued over channel selection, of course. He wanted to watch re-runs of CSI and I wanted CNN. In the end we compromised on a soap opera that Bed knew quite a lot about since his tutor, Ashley, had watched it while he was working on assignments. _The Young and the Restless_ hadn't changed in eons. Victor Newman was still old. Both he and Niki Newman had been married to other people, a few times, but were now amazingly back together. After Bed nodded off I reached for a best seller that was about as interesting as Victor Newman.

The next day I called Jake with the bad news. "I have a sick boy at home again today."

He gasped. "You get in here! You promised."

"I'm afraid I have to un-promise. Matthew isn't well enough for school."

"The wedding!" he shrieked. "I can't manage the wedding without you. It isn't an option."

Silence. There was nothing more to say.

"Bring him with you if you have to. You can look after him here. There's a sofa in your office and a TV. I'll even bring in chicken soup for the kid. I need you, Sam. The wedding is Saturday and I'm panicking. Please come in today."

Wow! Jake said _please._ How could I resist? Ninety minutes later Bed was curled up on my office sofa, buried under blankets that Jake had brought in along with chicken soup.

Jake was hovering about, pacing.

"I thought you were happy about the wedding," I said.

"Right! Show me a man who says he's happy about his wedding and I'll show you a liar. It's a formality. For the woman. She needs an occasion to flaunt her prize. But I've been there, done that, got the bills, and it's just a fucking circus."

"Gee Jake. Tell me how you really feel."

"Cut the crap, Sam! That greedy wedding planner is coming for a cheque this morning and I don't want to see him." He handed me the cheque book. "Do not let him into my office. Comprendo?"

I nodded. "Are you seeing anyone at all today or are you just going to mope?"

"They're bringing my tux for the final fitting. I guess I'll have to see them."

"And?"

"I've ordered some things for your kid."

He had indeed. Shortly after he stomped away a cello-wrapped tricycle arrived, its large basket loaded with video games. Bed could hardly believe his good fortune.

"A trike! I've always wanted a trike!"

"It isn't a real trike, Bed. It's a container for the games. That basket is full of goodies."

I removed the bow and wrapper and Bed dug in.

Jake must have been listening because he appeared out of nowhere, Nintendo box in hand. "You'll need this. It's mine and I'm sure you have something more sophisticated at home." Along with Bed he rifled through the games. "You like _Mario_ , Matthew?"

"I used to. When I was young. Now I prefer _Grand Theft Auto._ "

"Let's try _Super Mario Run_."

While the two of them battled away I actually got some work done. Jake, a big kid, was so determined to win he didn't notice the 'greedy' wedding planner arrive to collect his pay. And he wouldn't concede when the tailors arrived for the final fitting of his tux. "I'll be back," he told Bed. "So just leave it there."

By mid-afternoon Bed had nodded off and Jake came to my desk to whisper. "I have another surprise for Matthew. The dogs are coming."

"What dogs?"

"My dogs. You saw their picture on my desk. Well, before I put it away and put Angie back. Surely you remember the dogs."

"I'm allergic to dogs."

"I didn't know. I just thought they'd cheer Matt up. You know. Since he's sick and all."

And they did. Around four that afternoon the pooches charged through the door dragging Tom the Trainer behind them. The Great Dane wasted no time in lurching at me and trying to slurp my face with his dripping tongue.

"Get him off me!" I screeched. "I'm allergic to dogs!"

"He likes you, Miss." Tom said, like it was a great compliment and I should be flattered while in the process of dying from an asthma attack.

Now awake from his afternoon coma, Bed joined the commotion. He wrapped his arms around the little Russel Terrier. "He's so cute! Can I please get one, Aunty Sam?" Sheepdog proceeded to nuzzle into Bed, bumping the terrier out of the way. "And one like him too."

"Sorry. No dogs, I'm afraid. I'm allergic."

Jake joined the commotion. "Maybe you could. Angie doesn't like dogs so maybe I'll sell them. Would you like to buy them, Sam?"

"Do I have to spell it out? I can never have a dog of any kind. I'm allergic!"

He ignored me. "I'll give them to you then. I'll keep them at my farm so you won't have them in your house. They live with Tom anyway. You can bring Matt out to see them whenever you like. What do you say, Sam? Three dogs?"

Bed was hugging two dogs while trying to include a third. "Please, Aunty Sam! Please!"

It was a trap. I was met by four pairs of begging brown eyes – one pair belonging to Bed – and three wagging tails. "I'm allergic," I said weakly but he was too busy celebrating to care.

# Chapter Ten

Alexia was growing increasingly bored with Spain. She was Skyping every evening now, mostly talking to Bed and occasionally to me. The Saturday morning of Jake and Angie's wedding she wanted to know,

"And where will Matthew be while you're at this fancy wedding?"

"He has gone with Paulo to Uncle Billy's cottage. They'll be back tomorrow."

"My god!" she shrieked. "You let Matthew go with that pervert?"

Big deep breath. "I didn't know he was a pervert. Or I wouldn't have let him go."

"You're not funny. That Brazilian is nothing more than a thief. He stole from us remember. Mom's house. And her money, in case you've forgotten. He tricked her into writing me out of her will."

"That's not exactly true, Alexia. You were left a substantial amount. Surely you haven't spent it all yet."

"As I said, you're not funny. Pablo stole from me and Matthew is to have nothing to do with him."

"His name is Paulo. And I'll call the police right away and have him put in jail."

Her gorgeous brown eyes blazed. "You don't have to be sarcastic. But in future Matthew is to have no contact with our mother's gigolo."

"Husband. Common-law husband."

"Or that demented old biker."

"As you wish."

"That biker could be a pervert too."

"I'll tell his girlfriend that. In case she wants to have kids."

"Oh, you think you're so funny. You may have stolen my son but when I remove him from your home you won't be laughing."

"Is that to punish me or to punish him?"

She disappeared from the screen.

I just love weddings. Not. Especially when forced to wear strapless pink and to trudge down an aisle of old people and flowers only to be met at the altar by a salivating teenage boy. Next to the boy stood Jake's distant cousin, Leif-the-not-so-Lucky, newly released from jail. Jake's groomsmen, in fact, read like a page from white-collar Alcatraz and, trust me, those puppies knew how to drool.

Stunning Angie swept down the aisle in her Alfred Sung gown, all teeth. She appeared to be anchoring her wobbling, rum-reeking father. After giving her his permission to marry he flopped down on his wife and knocked off her hat. The droll little priest began,

"Dearly beloved."

With that Jake's knees buckled and he went down for the count, hitting the floor with a smack! Angie bent over to shake him. "It's almost over," she whispered. A self-fulfilling prophecy?

The reception improved only marginally. Jake, who'd been propped up on pillows to make him appear taller, fell off his chair. Father Rambling took it upon himself to pinch one of the bridesmaids' breasts so she slapped his face. The older gentleman delivering the toast to the bride forgot her name and kept calling her Barbie. This drew a shoe from a disgruntled guest. And just when my escape seemed ripe for the try I was trapped by Leif the Thief, who taught me how _not_ to rob a bank. Weddings. If I'd wanted to see a circus I'd have gone to the circus. Guaranteed.

To Jake, a honeymoon in Fiji meant a fast sunburn and an excuse to pester me with texts and emails from his shady respite. Angie texted too, simply to say that she was enjoying aloneness and may make it permanent. Had she made a big mistake?

The call from Bed's school offered a break from Jake but not in a good way. I had a bad feeling on my drive to Etobicoke, apparently with good reason. At the principal's office I found Bed sitting on a chair, tissue box in hand and eyes fixed on his lap. I sat down on the chair beside him.

"Fighting, were you?"

He shook his head. "Not fighting."

"What have you done? I'm assuming something since you're in the principal's office."

"Something bad."

"Such as?"

"Smoking."

"Not on the school grounds! Are you nuts? Were you alone?"

"No. Adam did it too. His mom already came to take him home. She's pissed."

"I am too. You were very foolish. You're not even old enough to buy cigarettes."

"Wrong kind of smoke. It was weed."

"What?" I shrieked.

"We were between buildings. We were sheltered. We didn't think anyone could see us."

"Obviously you thought wrong."

"We're both suspended for a week. And it's our last chance."

"Great. Where did you get the marijuana?"

"Adam's brother. He's nineteen and smokes up all the time. Adam brought a joint to school so we thought it would be a shame to waste it."

"Right. You, young man, are in big dodo."

Bed skipped dinner that night, instead heading to purgatory to repent. He coughed and blew his nose a lot. Later I went into his room for 'the talk'.

"I know I'm a big disappointment to you, Aunty 'Sam. I'm just a big fat loser."

I sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand in mine. "Don't ever say that! That's terrible self-talk. You are a great kid and we both know it. But _kid_ is the operative word. You are a kid and you're going to make mistakes. Adults make mistakes too. It's part of life. I still make mistakes but I don't let them define me. And I have a hunch that this mistake won't define you either. I'd be willing to bet, in fact, that you won't be smoking weed on the school grounds again anytime soon."

He smiled that lopsided smile. "Don't bet on it. It was pretty good."

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

"I know. I'm just joking. I'm such a fuck-up."

"No, you're not. You are Bedford Matthew Rahal. A wonderful writer. A chess whiz. And a scrabble player who is learning to cheat at the speed of light. But most of all you're an all-around great human being."

He finally showed his teeth. "Am I cheating good?"

"Terrific."

Bed dragged his home suspension behind him like a sack of rocks. He whined. He complained. The world was against him and it wasn't fair. He criticized the system that had failed him while leaving five days of homework assignments until the night before he was to return to the corrupt school system. He was also worried about his report card which would be ready the following day. It was only a 'first' report card, he stressed, and I was not to make decisions when he was likely to dramatically improve his marks on the second.

On the drive to his school the following afternoon I practiced a speech in my head. I would say, "You did your best, Bed." Well, that wasn't exactly true. "You did your almost best, Bed. You did some of your homework some of the time." And then, "Marks aren't that important." Back track. "Well, they are important but you have other things going for you. Like, the dogs. You are a good dog owner." In truth, the dogs were costing me a fortune for food and maintenance. Jake wasn't stupid.

Bed was standing with a group of boys when I pulled into the parking lot and he came galloping towards me like a proud stallion, head held high. He waved the white paper in his hand.

"I got a C in Math!" he hollered through the open window. "Can you believe it? And an A in English! I'm a genius!"

"That's terrific! You are one terrific kid."

"And the rest are all Bs!"

When he'd settled in I reached over and hugged my nephew in front of his friends. He shuddered. They whistled. Life was good.

# Chapter Eleven

It wasn't a question of _would_ Alexia arrive to check up on her son it was _when_. He was her boy, I kept reminding myself, and legally she had all the rights. With Christmas fast approaching it seemed reasonable that Alexia should show up and spend some time with Bed. So why was I nervous when she announced her intentions? Was it because she was already at _Pearson_ and flagging a cab?

Looking regal in a deep purple jumpsuit, and feathery sandals with five-inch heels, Alexia held court in my living room, leather-bound leger on her lap. Bed and I sat across from her on the loveseat.

"Stand up to her," Bed whispered. "Don't let her push us around."

Alexia raised a perfectly-pencil eyebrow at me. "What have you been feeding him? He's lost weight."

"He eats well. Lots of fresh fruits and vegetables. And protein, of course."

She made a sour face. "I hope you haven't eliminated carbs. It seems to be the norm these days. With everyone wanting to be thin."

Bed poked me with his elbow. "Like she'd eat a carb. Maybe under torture."

Alexia started to write. "So, I'll make an entry that he needs a proper diet."

Bed jumped in. "I'm working out! Aunty Sam has a treadmill in the basement studio and I'm getting fit. I'm getting healthy too. No more junk food. Aunty Sam has rules."

"I do." So, maybe there wasn't any more junk food. But no less either. Hopefully she wouldn't be counting the wrappers under his bed. And about the treadmill gathering dust in the basement... "He eats a balanced diet. I shop online and the food is divided into nutritional categories."

Alexia's mouth fell open. "You don't shop at a grocery store?"

"It's a grocery store. I order, they deliver."

"I've never heard of such laziness."

"You have now."

Bed elbowed me again. "Aunty Sam follows the rules. We're studying Canada's Food Guide in _Food Science Class_ so I know she follows them."

"What? You're taking Home Economics? I thought that was for girls."

"It's compulsory. For everyone. It's 2018 Mom. I'm learning to cook and it's fun."

Alexia shot her finely sculptured nose in the air. "Well, as long as it's fun. We wouldn't want you to be doing anything that isn't fun. Like shopping for groceries in a store."

Whew! Sarcasm. I dug in. "When was the last time you shopped for groceries, Alexia?"

"That's different. I have people. I don't have to."

"Neither do I."

Stalemate. Cruella was staring me down. "You do when you're caring for my son. I expect you to pick out fresh produce with the care and attention my own staff would devote to the task. Not selecting some rotting vegetables from outer space."

"The grocery store is two blocks away."

"Then get off your fucking ass and go there."

Bed delivered another elbow to the gut. "I have responsibilities here, Mom. I help with the chores and I am now the owner of three fine dogs." He leapt from the sofa, headed for his bedroom, and returned with Jake's portrait of the dogs. "See? These boys are mine."

"Really? Yours, are they? Exactly where are these three fine dogs now?"

"On a farm. We can't keep them here because Aunty Sam's allergic."

"How quaint! You own three dogs that you can't even pet. And I'm likely paying for their keep. I view that as a cruel joke. Who played this one on you, Matthew?"

Well, it was a cruel joke but the joke was on me. "I'm paying for their keep, Alexia. It's like boarding a horse that you can't keep in your yard. We go to see them whenever we get the chance. In the meantime, they live with the farm manager who gives them very good car and love." My turn to elbow.

"I saw that!" Alexia barked. "You two think you're very clever but from where I sit there is no adult in this house. You leave me no choice, Samantha, but to make suitable arrangements for my son."

"You have to fight for me," Bed whispered. "Fight harder. You're going to lose me."

He was right. I was losing ground. I therefore plied my sister with wine after Bed had gone to his room. "Bed is happy here, Alexia. He's made friends at school and he's getting good grades. I hope you'll leave him with me. At least until the end of the school year in June. I don't think it wise to move him before that."

She pursed her collagen lips. "Oh, I didn't say that he wasn't happy here. That isn't the point. The point is what's best for Matthew and I don't think it's you."

Plan B. "But we're a family now. We click. It's working for both of us."

"How very convenient for you, Samantha! You've snatched my child to make a family for yourself. You just can't take enough away from me, can you?"

I stood up to pace in front of the fire. "You keep saying that, Alexia. About all the things I've taken from you. But I don't even know what they are."

Her eyes blazed. "You're so very clever, aren't you? Special school for brilliant kids. Why don't we start with that?"

"That wasn't my fault. The school had me tested and sent there. I hated it."

"Alright. Why don't we talk about Dad? You came along when I was eight years old and stole him away. And yes. I know. He wasn't my real father which made it all the more painful."

"But Mom said he made a special effort to include you in absolutely everything so you wouldn't feel the difference."

"But I did! How do you think I felt about everyone gushing over the _Ivory Baby?"_

"But you became a model! A very beautiful model. You can hold your own against any woman. And you married a billionaire. You have a child together. You own a penthouse on 5th Avenue and a villa in Spain. Some might say that you lead a charmed life."

"Hmm. Let me see. It isn't bad enough that you stole my father away now you want my son. And it isn't going to happen. You're not stealing from me again."

Big uneasy breath. "So, what are your plans Alexia?"

"I'm going to put him in boarding school in upstate New York."

"But why? He'll be miserable in boarding school. His friends are here now."

"It will make a man out of him. Ali is a product of English boarding schools and he turned out just fine. Matthew will too."

"Bed isn't like other kids. He's sensitive. And shy. Could you not just leave him here at least until the end of the semester in January? Maybe by then he'll be ready for boarding school."

Alexia made a sloshing sound at the back of her throat. "You should see yourself standing there begging! It's pitiful. I should feel bad for you but quite frankly, I can't. I'm getting some sort of sick pleasure out of your misery and I'm not even sure why. Maybe It's because I'm finally able to cause you pain."

"And you'd use Bed to do that?"

"Oh, don't worry about _poor_ Bed. Who now wants to be called Matthew and you need to respect that. But like I said, don't worry about him. He'll forget about you, Samantha. You can count on it. Life is full of disappointments and you'll just be one of his."

"You're very cruel, Alexia."

"Only when I have to be. Only when I have to protect what is rightfully mine."

Rip a calf away from its mother and you'll hear bawling, and that's what came from my house when my Bedlam went away. It didn't help that his parting words rang with disappointment. "You didn't even try for me!" Tears poured down his cheeks as he packed up his things with my help. "You didn't even fight."

"I did try. She just wouldn't listen. She came here determined to take you away. She'd already made arrangements with the boarding school. She was just playing with me. Torturing me. I called my lawyer even before she arrived because I knew she was determined. Unfortunately, I have no rights where you're concerned. None at all."

He locked onto my body. "Don't let her take me! I don't want to go."

I patted his curly head. "Maybe there's a way out, Bed. But not right now. Your mother has threatened to call the police if I give her any trouble. Do you think she's bluffing?"

He smiled through his tears. "I'll so miss you, Aunty Sam."

In the days to come I suffered from bizarre nightmares. Bed kept floating away from me, away up into the sky like the _Goodyear Blimp_. He was crying and waving good-bye forever, he said. He'd gone to live in the sky because I couldn't hurt him there. He would never give me the chance to give him up again. No, he belonged to the clouds now, friendly clouds. Loyal clouds. He would float on those clouds that would take him to a safe place where I could never find him again. I always wake up on a cold sweat.

Although Bedford had promised to Skype from boarding school he failed to do so. Perhaps Alexia had it right. I was just one more of his disappointments and would be remembered for being that. Uncle Billy and Paulo left messages but I wasn't ready to talk. Jake texted from Fiji with a 'back to work' order so I more than happily resigned. I also gifted him back his mutts. On day three of Bed's departure I mustered the courage to pass the guestroom door and stopped to read the sign. _Disaster Area. Enter at your own risk._

I entered. It was a familiar disaster area with debris piled high. I snatched up a chocolate bar wrapper from the mound and hugged it before sinking into the rumpled bed. The tears flowed. Only then did I see the envelope on his pillow addressed to me. _To Aunty Sam – The English paper I earned an A for._

When I came to live with Aunty Sam I was shaking in my track shoes. She's scary but scary in a good way. You see, she doesn't suffer fools lightly and I'm a fool, for the most part. She's a member of the Mensa Club but I only know that from breaking into her email account. She keeps this membership a secret.

Aunty Sam is hot. She is tall and has strawberry blond hair that swishes down her back like a waterfall, straight along. She has hazel eyes that sometimes look green and other times brown, depending on whether it's night or day. She wears red lipstick and has very white teeth. Grown-up men like to whistle at her, maybe because she smites them dead in their socks. She's a killer.

Aunty Sam is also a hugger, which I didn't particularly like in the beginning. I fought her off because I wasn't used to affection. My mom doesn't hug and my dad just shakes my hand when he's happy with me. It took me a while but I now realize that I get hugs from the greatest woman on earth. I'd kill for Aunty Sam.

The End. By Bedford Matthew Rahal

The ringing of my cell at three a.m. awakened me from the first good sleep I'd had in a while. It was Alexia saying she'd received a call from the principal of Bed's boarding school and that he'd run away.

"You told him to do this, Samantha. This is all your fault!"

I bolted straight up in my bed. "You can't be serious! You can't really believe that I'd want Bed out there alone and frightened in wintertime. In upstate New York? What kind of psycho are you?"

Silence. "I gather you haven't heard from him then."

"No, I haven't. How long has he been gone?"

"They're not certain. He said he was sick and didn't go down to dinner. And he stuffed his bed with pillows so they don't know exactly when he left. Likely when everyone was in the dining room."

"No one has heard from him then?"

"No one. Naturally they've called the police."

"He's not likely going to give himself up to police if he's running away. Where do they think he was heading?"

"Where do you think?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, yes you do. You know he'll be heading back to you."

"How would I know that?"

"Because you're the fucking Pied Piper."

I sighed. "A boy we both love is out there somewhere in the cold. He could be in danger. I'll need to alert the authorities here."

Silence. "I feel so far away in Spain. I should be there helping to look for him."

"I'll keep you posted, Alexia."

"Thank you. Please find my boy."

"I'll give it my best. And Alexia? Sorry that I called you a psycho."

I began by alerting the police and rescue services and Uncle Billy who arrived before eight a.m. armed with coffee and pastries. Paulo arrived shortly thereafter and we set up camp with stations in the living room and study. Alexia had become a menace, Skyping every half-hour to ask why I had done nothing. With any effort at all I should have had results, she thought.

"Are any of your bikers connected to Hell's Angels?" I asked Uncle Billy. It was six p.m. and still no word on Bed. "Because I'm going to have her killed. I've been thinking about it for years. She pinched me a lot when I was little and she's still at it."

"Try Montreal. They could be here in half a day."

"'Great. Got any names?"

"Two. Hell's and Angels."

"Ha. Ha."

My cell rang just then and I was greeted by a more than welcome voice. "Can you come and get me, Aunty Sam?"

My heart went into a wild thumping mode. "Of course! Where are you?"

"Near Oshawa. At a truck stop. A trucker from Alberta picked me up. I'm the same age as his boy. But he's not stopping in Toronto. He's going to go straight through on the 401."

Uncle Billy put his Hummer's pedal to the metal as we raced into the night to collect our precious cargo. Our Bedford was safe.

Fast forward to everyone being ecstatic over Bed's safe return and it was agreed, after speaking with both Alexia and Ali, that Bedford Matthew should return to the private school in Etobicoke to finish the semester, which would end in January. Was it the calm before the storm? In my case, it was the calm before pitch black.

Good news though. Bed was excited about returning to his friends and teachers and to a play he'd written before leaving for boarding school. It was his take on _A Midsummer_ _Night's Dream_ , a parody of sorts, to be performed for parents and set at the North Pole. Bed was to be the lion in this play called _A Midwinter Night's Dream_.

Along with other proud parents I trudged into the little theatre to await the big performance, an eventful performance as it turned out. Soon I spotted Bed who was standing at stage left, dressed in his lion suit, the huge head tucked under his arm. He waved. How proud was I? My boy. A lion. Soon the curtain opened to the cast of characters in place. Three pairs of mortal lovers, plus the fairies, were dressed all in red. The characters in the 'play within a play' wore green. Adam, dressed as a donkey, was to play Bottom and my Bedford, standing off stage, was putting on his head.

The plot was a bit confusing, to say the least. It appeared that the mortals were pairing off in same-sex couples, a major twist. And the fairies who were to bless the unions instead placed a curse. Awkward silences, followed by whispering, preceded the appearance of Puck for his soliloquy, a direct Shakespeare quote. Skinny Puck was ten feet tall.

If we shadows have offended you

Just imagine this and all will be mended

Imagine that you were just sleeping here

And this weak and silly play

Is no more than a dream

Enter Lion, with a huge head and mane and glass eyes, a mistake on Bed's part because he couldn't see out. Walking sideways he ploughed straight into Puck, knocking him to the floor. Lion then stumbled over Puck and also crashed to the floor. Soft laughter rose from the audience. Not to be defeated, Lion staggered to his feet, straightened his head, and lumbered to the left where he caught the curtain like Velcro, pulling it down. The audience roared. __ And roared again as Lion, wrapped in the curtain, went rolling across the stage like tumbleweed, wiping out everyone in its path. As his victims piled up like cordwood the parents began to cheer. Three curtain calls later (no pun intended) Lion was the hit of the evening. My Bed. A lion. An accidental star.

# Chapter Twelve

Although Alexia had been invited to spend Christmas with us at Uncle Billy's cottage she had no intention of spending the holiday in the snow. Bedford received his Christmas money by email and wasn't upset. After speaking to his mother on Skype he came into my bedroom where I was packing up.

"Mom is going to spend Christmas in Spain. She's not a snow person she said."

I searched his face for a sign. "Are you disappointed?"

He shrugged. "I have five thousand dollars to get over it with."

My cell rang just then. It was Angie wishing me a Merry Christmas and telling me the good news. She had left Jake.

"What took you so long?"

"Stop it, Sam. I know you care about Jake. And I do too. I just can't live with him."

"No kidding!

"His business is everything to him and I'm just a prop. A pregnant prop."

"Pregnant!" I said excitedly. "That's wonderful."

"I'm not so sure."

I backtracked. "Jake's a little immature to be a parent, isn't he?"

"Yes. And that's why I haven't told him."

"Angie!"

"Yes?'

"Jake deserves to know."

"No he doesn't. He spent our whole honeymoon on his iPhone. Business is all he knows. And it's all he cares about."

"Don't sell yourself short. In his own little way, Jake adores you."

"He does. He just adores himself more."

"It's a lonely time to separate, Angie. Two days before Christmas."

"I know. And my parents are away on a cruise."

I didn't think long. "Matthew and I are going up to Huntsville to be with Uncle Billy. There's an odd little bunch gathering there but I'm sure there's room for one more. The cottage has six bedrooms and there are two guesthouses on the property. I think we could find a place for you and Baby Jesus."

"Do you think he wouldn't mind?" she asked in a little voice.

"I know he wouldn't. But I'll call him to confirm and call you back."

I then told Angie of my plans for the evening, my visiting the homeless of downtown Toronto as my mother always did.

"You give them money too, Sam? Won't they just spend it on booze? Or drugs?"

"Maybe. My mother never knew what they spent it on, nor did she care. She had a firm belief that street people were homeless because everyone had given up on them, friends and family included. She wanted to show them that someone still cared."

Long pause. "I'll come along too, if you don't mind. And I'll give money. Jake's money. With a baby on the way I'm going to take him for a bundle."

"What about the pre-nup?"

"There wasn't a baby then."

Bed wasn't thrilled about being near people he was afraid of so he stayed close to my coat. Paulo, on the other hand, had grown up on the streets of Rio de Janeiro and walked with ease among people he understood. He handed out sleeping bags while Angie served sandwiches and coffee and I dealt out the cash. Mom's cash. She wouldn't have expected any less of me.

"You look like your mother," said a skinny, scraggy man who sat propped against a building smoking a cigarette. "Do you know that?"

"Sam!" I shouted. "You're still here."

"You bet I am. Nothing short of a keg of dynamite will do this old dog in. I saw you mother's obituary in the paper. And don't look so surprised because we do read them. We get the used ones from the bins. But I just want you to know that I'm sorry for your loss."

Tears sprang to my eyes. "Thank you, Sam!"

Old Samuel clutched my hand. "We're sorta related, you know. Sam and Sam."

I brought Bedford forward. "You've been on the streets a long time, Sam. Would you mind telling my nephew why? He doesn't understand. I mean, it's cold out here."

"It is. But the sleeping bags help. He held up the new one from Paulo. Some people are kind."

"But? Surely you've had opportunity to go elsewhere?"

He nodded. "And I have left. But I always come back. I look after people here and when I'm away they don't always do so good. Today it's mostly drugs. They don't end up here because they're bad people. Only addicted. And through their addiction they've lost everything. Jobs, houses, cars, relationships. They hate the street and they hate themselves for their weakness and many take their own lives. It's the worst curse, the call of the demon."

"He's the angel of the streets," I told Bed.

"She's mighty proud of you, Samantha," Sam said. "Your mother. She's up there smiling right now knowing that you're carrying on her work."

Bed nattered all the way home. He was going to interview street people and write about them for the school paper. He was amazed that street people didn't necessarily start out poor. No, some even attended private school, Sam told him, before they fell on hard times and he wanted his fellow students to know the pitfalls in life.

Shortly after we arrived back home my cell rang. It was my albatross.

"Do you miss me?" Robert asked.

"No. Am I supposed to?"

"I can only wish."

"If it's sex you're looking for, you're so SOL"

"Funny, but for a girl who isn't interested in sex you talk about it a lot."

"Oh, I'm interested in it. Just not with you."

"Merry Christmas, Sam. And I don't believe you for a minute."

My Christmas present from Alexia arrived via courier the following morning. In a nutshell, in January we'd all be going to court. On January thirteenth and in future I'd be prevented from any contact with Bedford Matthew Rahal. By court order. The letterhead not only proved that she'd beaten me to the family lawyers she had also retained one of the top litigators in town. Jimmy Ross.

# Chapter Thirteen

Hitherto. Notwithstanding. Blah. I worried my way to Huntsville where Uncle Billy met us at the door. Due to the holidays I'd chosen to keep the legal matter to myself for a while.

"Don't take your duds off," Uncle Billy barked. "We're going out to chop down a tree."

Bed groaned. "Uncle Billy! You can't chop down a tree. That's murder!"

Billy giggled. "It's only manslaughter in Canada, Matt. So, let's go out and try to beat the system."

Bed balked like a little Brahma bull. "It's still murder of an innocent plant. Doesn't matter what the penalty. In New York we have a nice silver tree that comes out of a box. It has its own lights too. It's conservation. We care about the future of the planet. About oxygen."

Billy's green eyes twinkled. "Do you believe in crime and punishment, Matt?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"What if I told you that there are bad trees out there needing to be punished?"

"Uncle Billy! No, I don't believe in bad trees. But you're going to chop one down anyway so skip the goofy stuff."

Mid-afternoon the guests began to arrive armed with presents that were then stacked under the tree. My childhood friend, Rena – who'd been orphaned at seventeen and always invited for Christmas – took to the kitchen and her traditional gingerbread boy production. Angie popped the popcorn which Paulo and Bed began to thread on strings for the tree. Uncle Billy threw a bag of cranberries Bed's way.

"Here Matt. You'll likely eat less of these. You're gobbling up our decorations."

I was assigned to help Uncle Billy with the lights which we rescued from the attic, along with boxes of shiny ornaments. Childhood memories came flooding over me like backwash as I silently thanked Mom for Bedford, for Uncle Billy and Paulo, and for what was yet to come.

Following the dinner delivered by a local caterer we sat around the fire in the open living room to admire the tree.

Bed sat on the floor by my feet. "I guess it's not so bad. Cutting down a tree. Since Uncle Billy said it would become chips for parks and trails I guess it's o.k."

Billy smiled. "Glad you approve, Matt. And thanks for all your help."

Bed blushed, since shortly after being tossed the cranberries he ran off to his bedroom to play games on his iPhone.

I rubbed his curly head. "Too many presents under that tree, I think. Maybe we should take some of them back."

He was bouncing off the walls. "Not mine! You don't touch mine! I've shaken them all and pretty much have them cased."

"Oh, really? So, you know which one you'll be opening from me tonight."

"Do I only get one tonight?"

"Yep. You get the traditional Christmas Eve single. The rest is for morning."

He was on his hands and knees shaking things. "I'm not sure. I always hate this ordeal because I don't want to open up pajamas and have to play with them all night. I'm saving my big presents for tomorrow and I know what they are."

I smiled. "Maybe you do and maybe you don't."

He finally settled for a square box tied up with a big red bow. "It's heavy. It just may be something fun. I'm not sure." He tore into the package like a hungry skunk. "Pajamas!" he wailed. "Aunty Sam! That's not cricket. That's not fair."

I thought it was. And the others were cracking up. "The old rock-in-the-box trick, Bed. But at least you have something to play with."

He came at me then, all arms and legs.

"Hey! If you hurt me I'll take back the second present I have for you tonight."

He backed off. "A second present?" He followed me to the tree like a puppy dog.

He squinted as I handed him a large square box. "This says to Uncle Billy! You tricked me!"

I nodded. "You'll have to get up earlier if you want to stay ahead of Aunty Sam."

He shook it. "I'm scared to open it."

"You should be."

He shook it again. "If you trick me again I'm going to be mad."

"Too bad. So sad. You're mad."

He kicked me with his sock foot as he pulled at the ribbon. "Boxing gloves!" he said excitedly. "For my Nintendo Wii. I love them!"

Not such a great idea, I decided, after Bed donned the gloves and started to punch me hard. But it was a distraction from the clock ticking in my head, the countdown to a court date and all that I could lose. ' _Ho. Ho. Ho.'_ kept resounding in my head and it wasn't Santa Claus. No, it was Jimmy Ross. Well, I'd show Jimmy Ross. I'd report him as an alien.

Just before nine PM we heard a soft knock on the kitchen door and Uncle Billy slipped away. When he returned with Jake in tow Angie let out a squeal. For a woman who'd left her husband for a better life she looked damn happy to me. She leapt off the sofa and kissed Jake smack on the mouth.

Jake searched the room apologetically. "I've brought presents for everyone."

Uncle Billy had returned to his recliner. "When you called this afternoon I said you didn't have to. We don't have room for the presents already here. I said to just come up and join in the fun."

Another knock at the kitchen door. "Would you get that please, Sam?" Uncle Billy had a silly smile on his face. "I think it's something for you."

Outside, behind an armful of presents, a familiar voice said, "You're supposed to say something. Like I'm glad to see you. Please come in."

"Are they expensive presents?" I asked goofily.

"They'll equal or trump any present here. And they're heavy so I need to put them down." Once inside, A.R. offloaded the gifts on the kitchen island before grabbing me by the waist and pushing me against the wall. "Let's get the formalities out of the way." With that he took my face in his hands and kissed me, slowly and deliberately. "Take that," he whispered in my ear.

I did. I took it. I liked it. What do you want me to say?

In the living room the booze was kicking in. I announced Robert's arrival apologetically. "He brought presents." The gifts were now spilling into the hallway and pushing up the stairs. After the introductions, Uncle Billy cracked a fresh bottle of cognac and settled in for a singsong.

"Should we try _Silent Night?"_

Bed groaned. "Let's not and say we did."

Billy playfully punched him. "How about _Here Comes Santa Claus?"_

Bed made a sour face. "You guys are so old!"

But Uncle Billy started and the rest of us joined in, croaking like a bunch of bullfrogs on their deathbed.

A.R. jabbed me in the ribs. "Whatever happened to the money your family spent on singing lessons? You people are really bad."

"Except for me."

"You're the worst. And a little hint? When you can't sing you should mouth the words, hot holler them."

"It's a long walk home, sir."

"I have a rental."

"Well, don't be surprised when Uncle Billy cuts your brake lines. He doesn't like it when his houseguests insult him."

"You never give up, do you, Sam?"

"Never."

The patio doors abruptly flew open and in bounced Santa Claus, sack over his shoulder. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" he hollered. "Merry Christmas!"

Bed, who'd been sitting in a corner talking dogs with Jake, scurried across the floor, dropped to his knees, and hid his head. "That guy is weird, man. Look at that mask. It's plastic!"

Well, the costume was about a hundred years old and had been worn by my grandfather, my father, and god knows who else. Maybe even Paulo. "He likely has great stuff in his bag, Bed. Games and stuff. One year he gave me _Popomatic Trouble_."

Robert piped up. "He gave me _Trouble,_ too. And a GI Joe. Years ago."

"I have a GI Joe," Bed scoffed. "He's still around. And my dad has one from the very first batch."

"Does your dad have the original army truck?"

"Probably. My dad was a rich kid. Oil. He has every cool toy that was ever invented."

Just then Santa came bounding over. "Presents!" he shouted. "For good boys." He started to empty his sack. "Games. Electronics. The works. All for Matthew."

Bed's mouth fell open. "All for me?"

Santa's head bobbed. "All for you. All for just one hug."

Bed froze. I froze. This was not a Santa to hug. His costume smelled like mothballs. But Uncle Billy's eyes were twinkling like a starry night. "You might want to give it a try Matt. He seems like a nice Santa to me."

Bed shuddered. "Not in this lifetime."

Santa switched gears. "Sorry, son. But I have to take this mask off. I can't breathe under this thing." With that he hoisted the contraption to the top of his head. "Now do you want to come and give your old dad a hug?"

# Chapter Fourteen

At five-thirty the following morning I awoke to the sound of munching at the foot of my bed. Someone had gotten into their stocking.

"I'm lonely, Aunty Sam. Everyone is sleeping, even Dad outside in a guesthouse. I need you to entertain me."

I sat up. "Want to share those goodies, buddy? Like maybe an orange."

He rifled a clementine at me. "You can have all the fruit. It's just trick food to fill up the spaces. Kids never eat the fruit."

"What about that puzzle of rings Santa gave you? Did you manage to get it apart?"

He pulled it out of his stocking. "I haven't even tried. It's too early to think."

"Let me try."

"Yeah, right. Like that would be fair. You're a genius. You'd crack it in five seconds and I might never. Do you think I'm going to let you make me look stupid on Christmas morning?"

We left it there.

Gift opening began barbaric style with people rummaging through the pile of presents searching for what might be theirs. Paulo quickly announced that he would hand out the gifts in a civilized fashion and no one argued with that. Uncle Billy knelt beside my chair.

"Do you know something, Sam? I haven't had Christmas with family since I was fifteen years old. That's when I was sent away to reform school."

I nodded. "Mom told me. She tried to hide you in the attic but the authorities searched you out. And she screamed when they took you away. Do you remember that?"

"Oh, yes. I do. When they put me in cuffs she screamed like a Scary Movie __ star."

"It bothered her until the day she died. She felt you'd been set up."

He laughed. "Your mom would think that. But trust me. I was a major B and E artist by the time I was twelve years old. I wrote my own ticket."

I put my arm around his thick neck. "But you came from a well-off family. You didn't have to steal. So why the break and enter?"

His round green eyes frosted over. "I did it for the thrill, actually. Not everyone understands the thrill of a B and E, the excitement of breaking into places and stealing things without getting caught. It's a huge high."

Out of the blue I blurted out, "Alexia is going to take Bed back. We're going to court in January. She wants a restraining order against me. Forever." I wiped a tear from my cheek.

Uncle Billy shook his polka-dot bandana. "We won't let her do that, Sam. We'll get Ali on side and you already have the rest of us. You know what they say about strength in numbers? We'll teach Alexia and her grey-faced father a thing or two. You just have to trust."

"I have trouble with trust. Since the rat bite. And all the teasing because of it." I glanced over at Rena who was trying on a multi-colored scarf, a present from me. She was making a face.

Bed was hopping up and down. "A guitar! You hid it from me, you sneak! A Warlock. From BC Rich. Exactly what I wanted, Aunty Sam! And I have something for you, too!" From behind his back he produced a silver box tied up with a big silver bow. Inside, Bed's school picture was surrounded by soft white matting on which excerpts from _Aunty Sam_ were etched in gold. __ And from Ali there was a gift card from _Cartier,_ my favorite store.

Jake was not about to be ignored. Rising to his feet he extracted a brown envelope from the attaché case beside him. He cleared his throat. "There has been a plethora of gifts exchanged here this morning. And as I see it there is room for just one more." He handed the papers to Angie.

She gasped. "You don't need to do this, Jake. I have my own money."

"Well, it belongs to you now and you need to rip it up."

She put it away. "Let's wait until the baby comes. We'll make decisions after that."

Jake keeled over in a dead faint.

Since dinner conversation was lagging I decided to announce my intensions. "I'm done with day jobs now. Sorry, Jake. But it's permanent. I'm going to write. I have several ideas for short stories to begin with. One about you, actually. And I'll go from there."

Robert liked the idea. "That's great. Put that mind of yours to good use. I think you'll make a great writer."

Rena turned up her nose. "You won't be any good at it. Everything is black and white with you. Fiction writers need to be creative."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you suggest, Rena? That I write obituaries?"

Jake looked pale. "You're never coming back? Ever?"

"No. You'll have to find another sucker."

Jake pouted through the rest of the meal.

Bed was optimistic though. "I'll help you, Aunty Sam. I have an A in English. I can show you the ropes."

Later, when I was alone with Uncle Billy in the kitchen, he asked, "When are you going to tell the others?"

"Not yet. Christmas isn't over yet."

"These people can help."

"I don't think anyone can help. Alexia is Bed's mother and she has all the rights. It's not like she died."

"You'll need a good lawyer. Maybe there's a loophole in the law."

"There isn't. I've already talked to a top lawyer. Apparently, under the present laws you can't steal children from their parents. And that's what I've done. Alexis is guilty of nothing more than wanting her son back. And it's all very sad because she'll just put him in boarding school and go globetrotting. He'll just run away again but he can't come to me or I'll go to jail."

He hugged me. "It is sad. You're a better mother."

"But I'm not _his_ mother. And that's the law."

After the others had gone Robert and I sat in front of the fire sipping brandy.

"How long do you think you can avoid having sex with me, Sam?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Stop being coy. Coy doesn't suit you."

"Are we in therapy again? I thought I was cured."

"You're doing it again."

"Yes, I am, Doc."

Silence.

He narrowed his round brown eyes. "What are you scared of?"

"I'm not scared. Maybe I just don't like you."

"You like me. You like me a lot. That kiss last night in the kitchen betrayed you. And you get all giggly when you're around me. I'd say you're mad about me, actually."

"Am I giggling now?"

"No. You're different late at night. That's when your threatened side comes out. You become powerful and domineering. A dominatrix, of sorts. That's why I can't wait to get you into bed."

"You should be so lucky."

"I will be."

I shifted gears. "Most people don't sit around and talk about sex. They just do it."

"What am I supposed to do? Chloroform you?"

"Sounds kinky to me."

"Let's do it. I have my doctor's bag in my room."

Just then Bed appeared rubbing his eyes. He came and sat beside me looking for a hug. I put my arm around him."

"We haven't cuddled in a while," he said.

"That big goon sitting over there wants to cuddle me too. What do you think about that?"

Bed shot up. "I think yes! I'd let you cuddle him, Aunty Sam. As long as you don't drop me."

"So, it's a threesome."

He bit his lip. "Dad's going home tomorrow. I'll miss him."

"I know, kiddo. I've been worrying about it. Are you wanting to go with him?"

He shook his head. "I don't belong in United Arab Emirates. I belong here. With you."

Big deep breath. "You know your mom wants you back. We're living on borrowed time."

"I'll just run away again. You know I will."

The following morning I walked Robert to his rental where he slid in behind the wheel, leaving the door open. Big fluffy snowflakes were fluttering down all around.

"I'd like to wait forever for you, Sam, but unfortunately I can't. I deserve better."

"You do. And I hope you find her."

"You're a good liar. You want me. You're just too scared to take a risk. I don't know what was with you and Ty but if I had to guess I'd say you were comfortable with him because you had the upper hand. You knew that at any time you could walk away unscathed. With me it's different. You're in love with me but you can't risk it. You're an emotional coward. You're afraid you might get hurt. Having said that, you know where I am if you ever decide to go out on a limb." Rocks flew as he sped away from the snow-covered driveway.

Behind me, Ali was loading his trunk and a sad-looking Bed was begging. "Don't go, Dad. You can stay here with me and Aunty Sam. You can sleep in the study. There's a pullout couch there."

Ali rubbed his son's fluffy curls. "I don't think so, Matthew. You'll just have to come see me in UAE. Don't worry. We'll see each other whenever we can."

Bed dragged his feet back towards the cottage.

"You're the greatest kid on the planet," Ali called behind him.

"Yeah, yeah," Bed mumbled.

I decided to stick my nose in. "The divorce has been hard on him. And he's happy with me. He needs to stay where he is."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes, there is as, a matter of fact. I need you to testify in court."

Shortly after Ali pulled out of the driveway Paulo came out of the cottage, garment bag slung over his shoulder. After a departing hug I said, "You need to sell the house, Paulo. You need to get on with your life and as long as you're there with all the memories that's not going to happen. You need to move on."

His glossy brown eyes watered. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No. I insist on it. You need to get tough again. There's an arrogant Brazilian in there somewhere itching to get out. Sell the house. Buy a loft downtown or a place somewhere warm or both. Get your life back. You're too young to be so miserable."

He tossed me a half-smile. "That's not a bad idea, Senhorita Sam. Thank you. That's what I'll do. I'll sell."

The last houseguest to leave the cottage, and my life, was Rena. I started to discuss the upcoming court case, and my anxiety over it all, but she cut me off. "Why don't you just give the boy back? Sign a waiver never to see him again. Going to court is just plain stupid."

"I'm sorry you see it that way but it goes a lot deeper."

"Deeper than what? You stole your sister's child. Theft is against the law. You should likely go to jail."

At that point, I said good-bye to my childhood friend for the last time. And it was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be.

At home, later in the day, Bed and I were preparing dinner in the kitchen. It was an easy fix, with KD for Bed and wine for me. "Do you want Chardonnay with that?" I asked.

He smacked his chops. "Am I allowed?"

"Certainly. In France children grow up drinking wine at the table. Parents just dilute it with water."

He carried his plate to the Island. "Well, don't dilute mine. If I want to drink water I'll drink water."

I poured him a sherry glass full and he took a little sip. "Delicious. Lovely bouquet. Fragrant and finishes well on the tongue. I watch a lot of TV you know."

I smiled. "You're a strange kid."

"And you're a stranger aunt. So, when are you going to tell me what you're so nervous about."

"What makes you think I have something to tell you?"

"The wine."

"It's Boxing Day. It's still part of the Christmas celebration. It's quite alright to celebrate with wine."

He raised his glass to clink. "To us! To Happy Boxing Bay. KD and wine. It would be nice to do this every year."

I swallowed hard.

"It's Mom, isn't it? She's going to take me away again."

I nodded.

"You can't let her do that Aunty Sam! She'll just put me back in boarding school and I'll run away again."

"The law is on her side, unfortunately. You are her child."

"That's not fair!" he cried. "You're so good. You're the one that deserves to have me."

Finally, comic relief. "I do. I do deserve you. You're the albatross I've been waiting for all my life."

He sat back in his chair to eyeball me. "Are you going to fight for me this time?"

"To the death."

# Chapter Fifteen

I walked through the double glass doors edged in gold and headed for the reception desk. There I was greeted by a snippy little man who pointed to a glass-walled waiting area to his right. Inside, four chocolate-colored, leather chairs surrounded a matching ottoman. It smelled like a saddle-room.

Soon a well-dressed young man came to say hello. He was wearing a grey flannel jacket over a pink shirt, open at the neck, and soft Italian loafers. Rimless glasses framed his bright blue eyes while a shock of yellow hair topped his head. "You must be Ms. Roe," he began.

I stood up and extended my hand. "You would be correct."

"I'm Newton. Ms. Hoffman's assistant. She sent me to bring you in."

I followed Newton down a long hallway that led to a luxurious office of formal white furniture, a pair of crystal chandeliers, and treasures from around the world. Incongruous, I was thinking, given the occupant behind the desk. Hannah Hoffman was a frightening woman. Large in stature, she was loud and tyrannical and began the meeting by barking, "Sit down, honey. Take a load off your feet."

Barely had I settled in before she let out a horse laugh. "So, you're the gal who stole her sister's boy! Funny that. Her wanting him back and all." She peered at me over the top of skinny glasses.

I smoothed a fold in my skirt. Hannah Hoffman was known for ripping tonsils out and I still had mine. "It wasn't like that, Ms. Hoffman."

She batted her big fake eyelashes. "Law doesn't care. Law says you done wrong, honey. Dead wrong. Says here that your sister wants damages. In addition to the lifetime restraining order. And I don't see why not."

How reassuring! My new lawyer had already convicted me. Alright, then. Maybe I didn't need an outlandish lawyer; a lawyer in a fuzzy purple suit and with a crooked blond wig clinging to the side of her head; a lawyer known for grandstanding in court and costing her clients a mint. I took a picture of Bed out of my bag. "This is him. This is Bed."

"Bed!" she roared. "What kind of name is that? The kids likely call him Chair. Or Sofa. Maybe even Sofa Bed. Kids are mean."

"He goes by Matthew. His name is Bedford Matthew. I'm the only one that calls him Bed."

"Well, keep it to yourself, honey. We don't need to be laughed out of court." She was staring at me now. "So, what's with the Cindy Lauper look? You can't take that mess of clothing to court. They'll want to sign you up for the circus. You'll need to wear Chanel. A whole suit. Get it?"

I nodded.

"And you'll have to cut your hair. You are not Lady Godiva."

"I'm not cutting my hair."

She let out her horse laugh again. "I was just kidding, honey."

She wasn't. She was just testing the waters to see how far she could push me.

"You'll pay Newton on the way out. Three grand an hour. The first fifty up front."

I nodded.

"And don't go messin' with Newton. The boy's gayer than a flamingo and he's happy that way. You should see his partner. He looks exactly like Newton. They could be conjoined twins. Isn't that a scream?" Hannah didn't require a response. She sat back in her chair. "Ms. Roe. Have you noticed that women don't work here?"

"I haven't noticed any women."

"Wanna' know why?"

I mustered up a little courage. "I have a feeling you're going to tell me why."

She liked that. "Yes I am. I don't hire women. I don't know why but I just don't like them."

I cleared my throat. "Perhaps you haven't noticed but I'm a woman."

"Oh, it's not personal, honey. Most of my clients are women. I win for them but there's no law saying I've got to like 'em. I don't like women or dogs and neither of the two can drive."

"Ah..." I said slowly. "There's a portrait of a dog in your reception area. A Springer Spaniel, I believe. Black and white."

She roared with laughter. "Isn't that a scream? I mean, me hating dogs and all? Newton won the bloody thing in a silent auction and he doesn't like dogs either. He brought it here and hung it on the wall as a cruel joke. Now we have drinks with the dog most nights after work. We call him Gruesome."

I tried not to smile. Poor Gruesome. He deserved better. "Thank you for taking my case, Ms. Hoffman."

She waved a bejeweled right rand in my direction. "Shucks, honey. It's not personal. I'm taking your case for two reasons. Firstly, it's going to be a big one. Maybe even a ground-breaker. Should a boy be awarded to his mother, who is not necessarily the best parent? Or to his aunt, the woman who loves him like a son? It's going to be a barn burner. Big media attention. We'll be bucking all the legislation on the books."

"I'm up for a fight."

"Good. Because you'll be run through the mill. You'll be up against Jimmy Ross and he's mean."

I gulped. Who better to know the mean spirit of Jimmy Ross than Silly Sally Samantha Roe? "I went to school with Jimmy Ross. He's mean, alright."

"And that's the second reason I took your case, honey. Jimmy Ross. He's getting cocky and making a big name for himself and I want to kick his ass."

When I reached the doorway, Hannah hollered behind me. "It's not personal, honey. But just for the record I don't like men either. I just don't like people."

Ali arrived in Toronto a day before the trial was to begin to take possession of Bed. The Rahal men took up residence at _The Four Seasons_ where Bed attacked room service with abandon. His former life was back. I was allowed one last conversation with my nephew by phone, as agreed between the lawyers.

He was talking with his mouthful. "I'm having caviar. It's awful. I just ordered it because it was the most expensive item on the menu. Dad's paying so I'm going to try everything."

I smiled. "Caviar is trick food. A big joke on the Western world by the Russians. They don't eat it but they've convinced the west that it's a delicacy so they can export tons of the stuff to the patsies they've duped."

"Well, I'm not going to be duped. I just dumped the crap in the garbage." He scraped his plate loudly. "I've got a burger and fries too so I won't go hungry."

"I'm glad. We don't want you losing weight. I'm not going to buy you new clothes when this is all over."

"Aunty Sam! You're teasing."

"Yes, I am. But here's the thing. This is my last communication with you, Bed. My last phone call, as set by the court. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and that I think you are the greatest kid on the planet, bar none."

Silence. "Do you mean we can't text? What about email?"

"Not allowed. And I don't want to lose you on a breech. If I lose fairly I'll take my licks. Then I'll probably just die."

He thought about it. "Me too. Death by the sword. Maybe I'll write another play while I'm waiting for you to win me back. About you and me this time."

"That's a great idea. Keep you occupied."

"What do you think I should call it?"

"I know what Robert would say. He'd say call it _The Taming of Samantha Roe._ Robert thinks you've changed my life."

"Is this a guilt trip?"

"Yes. You should feel responsible for making a human being out of me."

The trial didn't start immediately, mainly because Hannah Hoffman and Jimmy Ross fought over the evidence for three long days. Oops! There went my first fifty grand. Uncle Billy moved into the guest room and although he was somewhat tidier than Bed, he snored. Dogs howled to the tune of his zees and inquisitive neighbors started to ask questions. Mrs. Eden, for instance, trapped me at the mailboxes the day after Billy arrived.

"I like your latest boyfriend, Samantha," she said, as though they came and went like flies. "He's Caucasian. And much taller than the brown boy. Whatever happened to him?"

Alright. I'd give her Caucasian. "He's an alien. And he's gone back to his ship to collect his friends. Then their coming back to zap the neighborhood. You know, get rid of the racists."

She whirled around on her cane and hobbled away."

Day one of the trial found me selecting a black and white hound's tooth suit from my closet, although I looked more like Carl Lagerfeld than Chanel. I even tied my hair in a horse tail for Hannah and chose sensible shoes with only five inch heels. Uncle Billy keeled over when he saw me in the hallway.

"So, there is a woman in there! Not a little girl playing gypsy anymore."

I glared at him. "Shut up. I am not happy."

He smiled. "I never would have guessed."

At the courthouse we were met by a swarm of journalists. "Ms. Roe!" a scratchy, sandpaper voice cut through the mob. "How does it feel to be labelled a child snatcher?"

"A kidnapper!" said another. "A criminal!"

"A home-wrecker!" hollered a gruff guy. "Betraying your own sister. How can you sleep at night?"

Uncle Billy stepped out in front of me. "Ms. Roe has no comment. Not now. Not ever. We'll call you if we need you." With that he barged through the crowd, dragging me behind.

We were to hook up with Hannah in Meeting Room Four where we waited for a while. "Hannah said we drew the hanging judge," I told Uncle Billy. "Not good, but we don't get to choose."

Hannah came puffing in, all out of air. "What a day!" she hollered. "And it's only nine o'clock." She flopped down behind the desk where she threw open her case. "It's bad enough I have to fight in court I shouldn't have to fight stupidity at Tim Hortons. The drive-through line was six blocks long and they forgot the cream in my coffee. I'd sue the fucking morons if I had the time." She adjusted the blond wig on her head, this one cleaner than the last, and curly, lending her a Shirley Temple look. She suddenly noticed Uncle Billy. "Hey, handsome. Sorry about the swearing."

He smiled. "I confess to hearing that word before. Often coming from my own mouth."

She batted her big false lashes. "Have we met?"

"No. I would have remembered."

"Hannah Hoffman. Attorney. And you would be?"

"William."

"The Conqueror?"

"I've been known to."

She waved her bejeweled right hand. "Stop it! I'm not looking for a fourth husband. The alimony is killing me."

"I'm independently wealthy, Ms. Hoffman."

Again, she batted her lashes. "You're growing more interesting to me by the minute. I've always wanted to quit my job. And just call me Hannah, handsome."

"And I'm Billy. Samantha's uncle."

"Well, Billy. You and I are going to make a great team. Together we're going to save this girl."

I wanted to barf. What was this now _The Twilight Zone_? The sparks flying between my lawyer and my uncle were scorching my face. I asked, "Paulo will testify first?"

Hannah nodded. "The lamb to the slaughter. Jimmy Ross will pound the Brazilian for half a day and that will tire the shyster out. That's my plan. We'll wear Jimmy down and wait him out. Siege. It isn't new. Barbarians were masters of it."

"They were," chimed Uncle Billy. "Starve them out."

Hannah leaned forward in her chair. "Don't tell me you're a Middle Ages buff!"

I leapt from my chair and started to pace. "Could we please stay focused on the trial? My happiness is at stake here." But my lawyer and my uncle looked way too happy to be anywhere near me.

The dazzling Brazilian was, indeed, the first to testify but not before a hot breath singed the back of my neck as I sat beside Hannah preparing. "Ho. Ho. Ho!" said a mocking voice. "Here sits silly Sally Samantha Roe."

I turned around to face my childhood adversary. "Well, if it isn't Junior all grown up. Grown into Foghorn Leghorn. Imagine that!"

Jimmy hadn't changed much in twenty-plus years. He was still thin; he still wore thick glasses and smiled through substantial teeth. "You haven't lost it, gorgeous. And you haven't lost that lippy mouth either. I've always wanted to kiss it, to get you into the sack, and maybe now we'll have to make a deal."

"In your dreams."

"Don't be so sure." He laughed his way to the other side of the courtroom where he took his place beside Alexia. My heart went into some sort of wild thumping mode. There I sat in a court of law, fighting my sister, and I was going to win against one of the most gorgeous women on the planet? She was breathtaking in a chic royal blue suit and with her sleek dark hair twisting into a knot. I felt ashamed. Maybe I was the Pied Piper as Alexia had claimed. I gave my head a shake.

Following opening statements by both lawyers Jimmy Ross announced,

"The plaintiff defers her testimony and will welcome and respond to the defense."

"What?" I rasped.

Hannah wasn't surprised. "That's Jimmy Ross, honey. He's full of tricks. He excels at cross-examination and wants to show off. It really doesn't matter who goes first though. I'm going to kick his ass."

Under Hannah's guidance, Paulo drew a lovely picture of his relationship with my mother. He said good things about me too, and about my parenting skills. He believed Matthew to be a very happy boy under my guidance. Done.

As expected, Jimmy Ross was a master at cross-examination. "Please restate your relationship with the defendant."

Paulo smiled at me. "She is the daughter of my dead partner."

"Who would be?"

"Eileen."

Jimmy nodded. "Eileen? How old are you, Mr. Silva?"

Hannah jumped to her feet. "Objection."

Judge Hito agreed. "Get to the point."

Jimmy regrouped. "Would you say that you are older or younger than the defendant?"

"Younger."

"Yet you were her mother's partner."

"Please!" Hannah hollered.

"Where are you going with this counselor?"

Jimmy walked to the bench. "I'm establishing the man's credibility. How can he testify about Ms. Roe's fitness as a parent when he's obviously a fortune hunter? He seduced an older woman with money. She was not mentally sound and he wormed his way into her will."

I smiled. Alexia had brain-washer her lawyer.

Hannah hollered, "I object! There is no evidence to support these allegations. None!"

"Counselor Ross." Hito warned.

Jimmy shifted gears. "Tell me, Mr. Silva. You just testified to the defendant's pureness of character. Her intellect. Her devotion to her sister's son. Did it ever occur to you, during your relationship with her mother, that you just might want Ms. Roe for yourself?"

Hannah leapt to her feet. "What garbage! What rubbish! This man should lose his license!"

Hito narrowed his eyes. "Do I take that as an objection?"

Titters rippled through the courtroom. "Big time!" Hannah spat.

A red-faced Paulo stepped down from the stand.

# Chapter Sixteen

Outside the courthouse Paulo, Uncle Billy and I stood watching our breath freeze as smoke from Billy's cigarette formed a frozen cloud.

"I don't have wanting for Senhorita Sam," Paulo whined. "She is a friend to me only. That lawyer boy is sick."

Billy nodded. "If he accuses me of having designs on my niece I'll shove his huge teeth down his throat."

Hannah pushed her way through the crowd. "Excellent. I'd be pleased to defend ya. My fee is three grand an hour." She patted his arm. "No violence, handsome. None. Got that?"

He nodded. "It won't be easy. I already hate the guy."

"He wants you to. That way he has the upper hand. What you need to feel for Jimmy Ross is nothing. Nothing at all."

Back in the courtroom, Uncle Billy started off well. "I am the uncle of the defendant. And the plaintiff. They are both my nieces."

Notebook in hand, Hannah walked towards him. "Really. So you are in the unfortunate position of having to choose between them. That must be difficult."

Billy squinted. "Not really. These two women are as different as night and day."

"How so?"

"Well, one is loving and caring. The other not so much."

Through excellent peripheral vision I watched Alexia roll her eyes.

"Is the defendant the loving and caring one?"

"Objection!" Jimmy shouted.

Billy turned to the judge. "Samantha is loving and caring. The best mom for Matthew."

"Come on!" Jimmy hollered. "Conjecture! Times three."

A small smile crept into a corner of Hito's mouth. "I will strike that from the record," he said, although everyone in the courtroom knew he wouldn't.

Hannah was now pacing. "Perhaps you can tell us a story, Mr. Hudson. Tell us about a time that you witnessed the defendant and her nephew together."

He thought for a minute. "Well, they came to my cottage near Huntsville for Christmas just short weeks ago. Matthew's father was also there."

"What?" Alexia screeched from her table. "Ali was there for Christmas and nobody told me? That's treason!"

Billy continued. "I invited Matthew's mother too but she declined. She decided to spend Christmas in Spain."

Steam came exuding from Alexia's nostrils. She was boiling.

"And?" coached Hannah, while in the process of adjusting her crooked wig.

"It was wonderful to see Samantha and Matt together. They're like peanut butter and jam. A pair. They were playing an old board game I found in the attic. _Snakes and Ladders._ They were laughing and both aggressively trying to win. They ended up rolling across the floor like bear cubs, giggling and swatting."

"And having a great time together," Hannah added.

"Yes. They enjoy each other's company."

"No more questions."

Jimmy Ross rose to his feet. "Let me get this straight, Mr. Hudson. In your opinion two people rolling across the floor love each other. Is that correct?"

"It is of these two people."

"Hmm. And could you please tell the court which one of them is the adult because it seems a mystery to me. No further questions."

Alexia's smug smile tunneled straight through her most recent face.

On day two, Hannah was optimistic. In the meeting room she began, "Hell, honey. It's fifty-fifty. Hito is no fool. While he doesn't like me he is known to be fair. And the good news is that he doesn't like Jimmy Ross any better than he likes me." Her horse laugh echoed around the room, through the thick oak door, and down the hall.

Uncle Billy shifted in his chair. "Did this Ross guy have a mother or was he raised by wolves?"

My turn. "He had a mother. A dynamo who showed up at school to blast the teachers if they ever dared to discipline her son."

Hannah roared. "Honey, she's still alive and kickin'. She watches court TV and shows up here every once in a while to blast the judge for being too hard on her boy. Jimmy usually has to drag her out because she doesn't go willingly. She's a tiger. So, you know where Jimmy gets it from. It's in his blood."

Myriad thoughts went whirling through my head. "Maybe that's the ruckus."

"What ruckus?" Billy and Hannah said in unison.

I smugly smiled. "Well, I'm not psychic. But Rickie Fatherwell is and she said there's going to be a ruckus. More than one, in fact, during my court case. Ricki may even show up for the entertainment."

Uncle Billy snorted. "You know I don't believe in psychics, Sam."

"Oh, no? Then why did she see my uncle and my lawyer shamelessly flirting during the trial? And I'm not going to tell either of you what she sees after that."

Billy winked at Hannah and Hannah winked back. Just shoot me now! I turned to Hannah. "Jake's on the stand today, right?"

"Right. Jake and Ali, if we get that far. My guess is that Jake will sail right through. Jimmy won't mess with him. And Ali is our ace in the hole. No, Jimmy will be savin' up for the grand finale. Tomorrow will be his day. Tomorrow he'll have you where he wants you, Samantha, and he's already salivating.

"I can hardly wait."

Minutes later I met Jake and Angie in the hallway. "The press caught me this morning," Angie whispered. "My picture will be splashed across the news. You know, supermodel attends trial. I didn't say a word but they do their research. You'll be front page. Sorry. How did you get in?"

"Big black van. Back door. We learned. Don't worry about it, Angie. I'm already in the news."

Soon Hannah was leaning over Jake on the stand. "What is your relationship with the defendant, sir?"

"Samantha Roe is my assistant. The best I've ever had."

"And?"

"She's highly organized and efficient. Responsible too."

"How would you describe the character of Ms. Roe?"

"She is honest and dedicated. To her job and her family. She is devoted to her nephew and loves him like a son."

"Conjecture." Jimmy shouted.

"Sustained."

Hannah pressed on. "What do you know about Ms. Roe's nephew?"

"A lot. I spent Christmas with Matthew and Samantha. And one day when he was sick she brought him to my office."

Alexia hopped to her feet. "See? See? I told you she was an unfit mother! Who brings a sick child to their office? It's criminal at best."

Hannah cocked her head. "Did that not seem strange to you, sir? That a woman should bring a sick boy to her office when he may have been better off home in bed?"

Jake shrugged. "Not to me. I needed her. It was the week of my wedding and I was frantic. I told her that she was seriously letting me down and that there would be consequences. I told her to bring the boy. That he could sleep on the sofa in her office. I covered him with blankets and he slept like a baby. I also bought chicken soup just for him."

"Consequences, you say. Isn't that a bit harsh?"

He screwed up his face. "No. I go the extra mile for my employees and I expect the same in return."

I smiled. Yup. _Idiots. Morons. Losers_. And that would be the extra mile?

Jake dug in. "What do you want from me? I gave the boy three fine dogs."

Alexia leaned over to fill up Jimmy's ear. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Your witness, Counselor Ross."

But just as Hannah was returning to our table the doors at the back of the courtroom flew open and Newton came prancing in. He was wearing a stylish pink suit, which didn't much matter, since he was soiling it with salty tears. A river went streaming down his face. He threw himself at Hannah, locking on. "He's left me!" he cried. "Shane has gone! And he took all our stuff. He cleaned me out."

Hannah, subdued in a strangle hold, patted Newton's back. "I never liked him. He wasn't good enough for you, hon."

Sniff. Sniff. "That's not exactly what I wanted to hear."

"What did you want to hear? 'Sorry, Newton. I know you'll miss the kinky sex.'"

The courtroom erupted.

"You don't get it, Hannah! He took everything. Even the picture of my precious dead mom."

She hooted. "That was Shane's precious dead mom, Newton. And you know it."

He sobbed. "She was going to be mine. As soon as we were married."

More titters.

Judge Hito had had quite enough. "Counselors please approach the bench."

Hannah moved forward, dragging Newton along like a rag doll.

Red-faced Jimmy spat, "Is there nothing you won't stoop to, counselor? Really! This puts a new spin on courtroom theatrics. I mean, how low can you possibly go?"

Newton pleaded with Jimmy. "He's gone! My Shane has gone and left me. And he didn't even leave a note. He didn't even tell me what I did wrong!"

Jimmy almost smiled. "I'm sure you feel much better now. After airing your dirty laundry in court. I know I'm crying over your predictable rejection. And since counselor Hannah Montana is performing a shit-show today, well, I'd have some sympathy for you, Newton, if I didn't have so much for myself." And to Hito, "This is preposterous, Your Honor. Shameful. This woman needs to be disbarred."

Instead, Your Honor called a recess while Uncle Billy helped Hannah drag

Newton from the room.

When court resumed in the afternoon Jimmy Ross had no questions for Jake. Ali entered the courtroom to a chorus of whispers from the women, since he was decidedly handsome, beyond stylish, and moved with the grace of Fred Astaire. He slid into the witness box saying,

"Ali Rahal. Proud father of Bedford Matthew."

Hannah circled. "And husband of Alexia Grace Rahal?"

His eyes sparkled. "Reluctant husband. Soon to be ex."

"Do you know what this case is about, Mr. Rahal?"

"I do. It's a custody case. Well, it isn't exactly a custody case. Matthew has been living with Samantha for several months and Alexia wants him back. And, to prevent Samantha from ever seeing him again. Alexia wants damages too. Why, I'm not exactly certain. She isn't poor, you realize. I've made sure of that."

Alexia squirmed in her chair.

Hannah persevered. "Do you know the circumstances under which your son came to live with his aunt?"

"To my knowledge, it was an arrangement between the two women. That Matthew should stay with Samantha for a while because Alexia and I were divorcing and it would be a stable place to be."

"Agreement, then. So, Ms. Roe didn't steal your son away from his mother?"

Jimmy rose to his feet. "Conjecture! Hearsay. Garbage."

"I'll rephrase. What exactly did your wife tell you about your son going to live with her sister?"

"She said that Samantha offered to take Matthew for a while and that she was going to Spain to rest. We have a villa there on the Riviera."

"What changed?"

"I'm not exactly sure. With Alexia one never knows. She wants to put Matt back in boarding school but that didn't work the first time so I'm not sure about her motivation."

"What happened the first time?"

"He ran away. He hitchhiked back to Toronto to be with his aunt. To be with Samantha."

"I see. He wanted to be with his aunt. I guess that says it all."

"Objection!"

"Thank you. That will be all. I reserve the right to re-direct."

Jimmy slinked his way to the witness stand. "How many wives do you have, Mr. Rahal?"

"Objection!"

Hito shot Jimmy a look. "You know better, counselor."

"You have other children though. Besides Matthew."

"I do."

"How many?"

"Several."

"From how many mothers?"

"Objection!" Hannah roared.

Hito yawned. "Where are you going with this, Counselor Ross?"

Jimmy walked to the bench. "This witness lacks credibility. He doesn't seem to know how many children he has or how many wives. Perhaps it's a cultural thing."

Hannah came out of the shoot like a raging bull. "Counselor Ross! That's outrageous! You will apologize to this witness."

Jimmy sauntered back to his chair. "I have no further questions."

Hannah thumped to the stand. "Mr. Rahal. Who supports your families?"

"I do. One hundred percent."

"Do they have enough to eat?"

He chuckled. "Plenty. Plenty of anything they want."

"How is that? Are you a wealthy man?"

"Some might say that. Yes. Some might say that I'm oil rich."

The ruckus at the back of the courtroom brought proceedings to a halt. Soon a wiry little woman in a thin blue coat and black hat with a veil came stomping forward, teeth clenched. "Judge Hito! Your courtroom is in shambles."

Judge Hito sat back in his chair. "Mrs. Ross. How lovely to see you. It's been far too long, I'm certain. What has been keeping you away?"

She smacked her lips. "You don't have to be sarcastic. I respond rather well to civility."

He smiled. "What can we do for you, Ms. Ross?"

She turned to face her audience. "Judge Hito is a complete fool. He called a recess this morning for no good reason. He let that irritating woman," she pointed to Hannah, "hoodwink him with a prank. That silly boy in the pink suit was a plant. Everyone knew that but the thick-skulled judge. We all saw it on Court TV." She turned back to Hito. "I hope you know that everyone is laughing at you."

He smiled. "Glad I could bring a little humor into the world. There's definitely not enough." He turned to Jimmy who was slinking down in his chair. "Counselor Ross. Would you be so kind as to come and get your mother?"

Titters rippled through the courtroom as Jimmy came forward to collect his mom, who swung at him with her little pink purse. "You're supposed to win this one, Jimmy. And you're not even trying!"

# Chapter Seventeen

Ali walked me down the long corridor and out the back door. Once safely inside the big black van he handed me a folded paper no bigger than the palm of his hand. "Secret message. From someone you know and love."

Dear Aunty Sam.

Hotels suck. It's like a prison here although it is called a suite and apparently the biggest one they've got. The Jacuzzi tub was only fun for a day. Not much time for games either because my tutor is here from New York and she makes me work hard. I'd like to go back to school and see my friends but I'm on hold until after the trial. I hope, hope, hope you win me, Aunty Sam. xoxoxo Bed

The following morning in the meeting room Hannah said, "You've got to start eating, honey. You're skinner than a starvin' rat." Dressed in a burgundy suit she was all powdered up with fresh lashes and a blond, shoulder-length wig. She threw a paper bag across the desk. "I bought you a donut. You'll need it for strength. It's going to be a long day on the stand."

I opened the bag. "Thanks. Bed's teacher goes before me?"

"Yup. Then Jimmy Ross will have his way with you. He's been itching for it all along." Her eyes twinkled. "But I guess you know him better than I do."

"Unfortunately."

"Funny how karma follows people around like bad gas, isn't it? I mean, did you ever think you'd meet up with him again?"

"I'd hoped not."

"Well, hang on to your hat, honey. I'll help all I can."

In the courtroom Bed's teacher, who didn't look much older than Bed, took the stand. She was tiny, with spindly limbs and delicate hands which she nervously joined together.

"Ms. Switzer," Hannah began. "Please tell the court your relationship with Bedford Matthew Rahal."

"I am his eighth-grade teacher at Glen Robin private school."

"I see. And what kind of student is Matthew?"

"A good one. He's highly intelligent and an excellent writer."

"Would you say that he's a happy boy?"

"Yes. He is usually very happy. And he has a great sense of humor."

"Can you tell us what happened in December?"

"Yes. Matthew was removed from our school by his mother. But he came back a week later."

"Would you say that he was happy to be back?"

"Yes. Definitely. He'd written a play before he left and he wanted to act in it. He got to do that when he came back. He was very proud of his work."

Hannah walked away. "Your witness."

Jimmy Ross slinked to the stand. "Ms. Switzer. Was Matthew ever in trouble in school?"

"Not serious trouble. No."

"I said the word trouble. Any kind of trouble at all?"

"Well, once, maybe."

"Was he suspended?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

"For smoking on the school grounds."

"Smoking what?"

"Marijuana."

Titters again. Had anybody brought popcorn?

"And you don't think that's serious trouble? I'm afraid I have to question your values."

"Objection!" hollered Hannah.

"Strike it from the record," Hito told the clerk.

Turning his back to the teacher, Jimmy slid his shiny shoes across the floor. "Your witness."

Hannah knocked over her chair leaping up. "Was Matthew the only student caught smoking marijuana on the day in question?"

"No. He was with another boy. Adam."

"And who is Adam?"

"Another eighth-grade student."

"And for the record, what does Adam's father do for a living?"

"Adam's father is a United Church Minister."

"Thank you, Ms. Switzer. That will be all."

Somewhere in the distance a bailiff was saying, "I now call Sally Samantha Roe to the stand" and I was saying, "Run!" I didn't though. With lead (Pb) feet I dragged myself to the witness stand and miraculously didn't throw up.

Hannah pulled at her wig. "Ms. Roe," she said cheerfully. "How are you this fine morning?"

Sick, I wanted to say. "I'm fine. Thank you." It didn't help that gorgeous Alexia was sitting there in a tight red suit, a superior smile on her smooth face. White-skinned Terrence had arrived to glare at me too.

"Ms. Roe." I must have looked pale because Hannah snapped her fingers in front of my eyes. "Would you please tell the court how your nephew came to live with you?"

I cleared my throat. "Matthew came to live with me following the death of my mother. My sister, Alexia, left him with me for a few days to be with her dad."

"Her dad is not your dad?"

"No. My mother was married twice. Alexia is from her first marriage and I'm from the second."

"I see. So, after a few days with Matthew?"

"Well, Alexia was going to put him in boarding school but he didn't want to go. He'd always been home schooled, you see."

"So why the change?"

"His parents were divorcing. His dad was going back to the Middle East and his mother was leaving for Spain. Boarding school seemed to be a good option, they thought."

"What changed?"

"Well, I changed, essentially. During the few days Matt and I spent together, we bonded. He's a great kid and was going through a hard time with his parent's divorce and with boarding school looming ahead of him, another big change. I convinced Alexia to leave him with me and that I would enroll him in private school. That way he could come home at night to his family, his family being me. I am his aunt, after all."

"Was this arrangement ever meant to be permanent?"

"No. We always knew his mother would be coming for him. Which she did. She put him in boarding school but he ran away."

"Back to you?"

"Back to me."

Hannah sighed. "Ms. Roe. When did you learn that your sister was taking legal action against you?"

"December twenty-third. I received a subpoena."

"To which you could have complied, I believe. Hand over the boy. Never see him again. In which case the charges and damages would have been dropped."

I nodded. "I couldn't do that. I promised Matthew I'd fight for him. I promised to do my best to keep him out of boarding school where he was badly bullied."

Jimmy Ross stood up. "You have proof of that, Ms. Roe? Because I'll be asking for it."

Hito waved his hand. "Sit down. You'll have your turn."

I glared at Jimmy. "I do have proof. I have Bed's word. It's gold."

"You have who's word?" Hannah barked.

"Matthew's. Sorry."

Hannah took a deep breath. "Can you please tell the good people in the courtroom why you want to keep your sister's son? I can see by their faces that they don't understand."

She was right. The courtroom was packed with prickly faces. They didn't like me at all. "My intention was never to keep my sister's son. My intention was to give the boy stability while his mother got her life together. And then, when he was so happy in school and at home it didn't seem fair to rip him away from all of that. I mean, it's not like his mother was going to look after him. She was just going to put him back in boarding school and go abroad. I believed I could offer him more."

"I see."

"I just wanted what was best for my nephew because I love him so very much."

"No more questions at this time," Hannah barked. "I'll reserve the right..."

Hito cut her off with the wave of a hand. "Yeah. Yeah."

At lunch I was able to sip on a smoothie while Hannah attempted to bolster my courage. "You're doing great, honey. Ross surprised me, though. I thought he'd just be on the big objection machine but he was quiet. Maybe he's saving his meanness for this afternoon.

He was. Hannah, in fact, became the big objection machine. Jimmy started by asking,

"How old are you, Ms. Roe."

"Objection! Irrelevant."

Jimmy walked to the bench. "Oh, I disagree. I think Ms. Roe's age is very relevant in this case. And I'll prove it."

"Very well. Prove it. I allowed Ms. Hoffman some leeway."

"How old are you, Ms. Roe?"

"I'm the same age as you. And you know it."

He nodded. "Very well, hostile witness. I'll say your age, then. You are forty years old."

I licked my bottom lip.

"Forty and childless, I believe?"

"As are you. And I'm sure your three ex-wives have stories to tell about that."

Jimmy threw up his hands. "Permission to treat this creature as a hostile witness, Your Honor?"

"Not yet, counselor. Don't get your shirt in a knot."

"Forty and childless," Jimmy repeated.

"By my own choice. I have had sex, you realize."

Courtroom titters.

Jimmy stomped to the bench. "Would you please instruct the witness to only answer the question?"

Hito yawned. "Only answer the question."

"Again, Ms. Roe. You testified that your sister left her son with you for a few days during which time you decided to steal him from her."

"Objection!" Hannah roared.

"Sustained."

"You, Ms. Roe, made a decision to usurp your sister's authority. You made a decision that went directly against her wishes and you brainwashed her child to get him on board."

"Objection!"

"Sustained."

"You never had any intention of giving the boy back to his mother, did you?"

"I had every intention of giving him back."

"The answer is yes or no."

"To which part?"

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. "Ms. Roe. At what exact moment in time did you decide to steal your sister's child? Your very _own_ sister's child?"

I said nothing.

"No more questions."

Pandemonium. The papers would print the news and Jimmy Ross's gloating face would grip the front page.

# Chapter Eighteen

It didn't take much convincing to get me to a bar for drinks, _The Four Seasons_ lounge, to be exact, where I sipped my chardonnay like a thirsty pirate. Uncle Billy and Paulo had joined the party.

"You're doing just fine, honey!" Hannah coached. "Hito won't be taken in by Jimmy's theatrics. It's only for the press."

I felt sick. "But if the press hangs me before the decision will the judge not be swayed?"

"Not Hito. The press can't bully him. If I can't no one can." There came the horse laugh again, resounding and loud.

Over appetizers I said to Paulo, "See those three women over there? They're drooling over you. Maybe even fighting over you." At a near-by table two blonds and a brunette were giving Paulo the eye. "You should go over and talk to them. Maybe even ask for a date."

He shyly smiled. "With which one?"

Uncle Billy was full of advice. "Talk to them and see which one wants you more. Take the path of least resistance. It always works for me."

"Worked," Hannah interjected. "Your goose is cooked, handsome."

Billy sat back in his chair. "Bring it on, gorgeous."

Oh, please. Somebody shoot me now! But from the corner of my eye I could see a white washcloth waving from the end of a ruler. I then saw a boy sneaking back and forth across the entranceway, several times, in fact, before disappearing from sight. I had been paid a visit.

The following morning, Hannah deferred to Jimmy Ross, with the right to cross-examine.

The courtroom fell silent while Hito thought things through. "This case is not about the grandstanding of lawyers." He glared at Hannah, then at Jimmy. "It's about a boy. Proceed."

Jimmy Ross played to a packed house. Journalists gathered in the hallways while the overflow spilled onto the streets. Radiant in a black belted suit, and with her sleek dark hair twisting into a knot, the lovely Alexia Rahal was about to take the stand.

"Ms. Rahal," Jimmy began. "You've been waiting for this day."

She nodded. "I have."

"This is the day you get to tell your side of the story."

"I do."

"So, why don't we start. Would you please tell the court how your sister came to take possession of your son?"

"Well, my sister, Samantha, basically snatched him from under my nose."

A loud stirring in the courtroom caused Judge Hito to bang his gavel.

Alexia continued. "I was in a weakened condition, you see. My mother had just died. My husband had asked for a divorce. I just wanted to put Matthew in boarding school and go off to Spain to rest. I really needed to rest."

Awes went around the room. Poor dear.

"Well, I gave in because Samantha convinced me that she could care for my boy while I rested. It was supposed to be temporary but when I returned to put him in boarding school he ran away. Back to Samantha. She had brainwashed him by then, you see. Unfortunately, the only way I could get him back is through a court order because she refused to give him up. And that's why we're all here today." Tears filled her big dark eyes. "I just want my son back. That's all I ask."

"I have no further questions."

Hannah puffed to the stand where she straightened her stance. "Ms. Rahal. That's a pretty sad story. You've almost got me in tears."

Alexia cocked her head.

"But humor me, if you will. During the time you were in Spain did you communicate with your son?"

"Often. On Skype. But I was resting most of the time."

"So, during this resting stage you trusted your sister with your son?"

"I saw no reason not to. I didn't know her intentions at the time. I didn't know that she planned to steal my son."

Hannah started to pace. "We all know you love your son, Ms. Rahal. And in that case, you don't think he'd be happier staying with an aunt he adores and attending a school he loves rather than attending a boarding school he hates while you return to your travels?"

"He'll adjust. Kids do."

"Surely you don't believe that boarding school is the best solution!"

Jimmy jumped up. "Badgering!"

Hito nodded. "Are you just about through, counselor?"

Hannah nodded. "Just one last question. Are you sure this isn't about jealousy? That you're jealous of the love your boy has for your sister?"

Still on his feet, Jimmy Ross turned blue. "Are you going to let her get away with that, Your Honor?"

Hito banged his gavel. "Counselor! I assume you're done."

"Done like dinner." Hannah sauntered away.

Jimmy shook his head all the way to the stand. "Mrs. Rahal. Is there any truth to the garbage spewed by Ms. Hoffman? Are you jealous of your sister?"

"Objection!" shouted Hannah. "I do not spew garbage."

Before the judge could open his mouth, Alexia snapped. "Absolutely not!" She glared at me. "It's the other way around. Samantha is jealous of me. Of my great beauty. And to punish me she stole my child."

Before adjourning for the day, Judge Hito called the lawyers to his chambers, which Hannah viewed as a positive sign. She winked at me. Several minutes later the two lawyers emerged to confer with their clients. "He wants your nephew to testify."

I didn't think long. "No way. I do not want Bedford brutalized by Jimmy Ross."

"We've agreed to no badgering although the law does not allow for the badgering of a child. But Hito isn't getting a clear picture and he thinks Matthew can help. He's ready to throw the case out but that isn't in our best interest. Under the present laws, Alexia has custody and will just put Matthew in boarding school. End of story. We can do better."

"I don't want Bed under pressure. He's got enough on his plate." Myriad thoughts went racing through my mind, mostly mixed with confusion. What was I doing in this mess anyway? Didn't I have a life before my nephew came crashing in? Was I not happy doing my own thing, way back in B.B.? (Before Bedford). The word 'run' went racing through my head. It would be easy to quit right now, the complacent part of me said, to simply walk away. It was just that one small voice in my head, pleading, 'Are you going to fight for me this time, Aunty Sam?'

"I will agree," I told Hannah. "But no badgering."

"It's a promise."

Familiar faces greeted us the following morning. In addition to the usual gang, my favorite psychic smiled as Hannah and I entered the courtroom. Ricki Fatherwell came towards us, caftan flowing behind her, cobra bracelets clanking on her arms, and huge gold hoops dangling from her ears. "I wanted to give you a heads up, Samantha. There'll be more than one surprise today."

Great. I felt sick. My Bedford Matthew was about to take the stand. Tears sprang to my eyes.

Hannah elbowed me in the ribs. "Smarten up. We don't want Hito to think you're a sap."

With Hito seated, and the court in session, Bedford Matthew Rahal came marching in, head held high. "I love you," he mouthed to his mom as he passed by. From the witness stand he blew me a kiss.

Hannah walked to his side. "Matthew," she hollered softly. "You're so adorable! No wonder everyone's fightin' over ya."

He beamed.

"Objection!" Jimmy called from his table. "Irrelevant."

"I disagree!" insisted Hannah. "It has everything to do with this case. Who wouldn't fight over this handsome boy?"

Hito nodded. "Overruled."

Hannah began to work her magic. "So, Matthew. Would you mind telling the court how you came to live with your aunt in Toronto?"

He straightened in his chair. "I came here for my grandma's funeral. And when it was over there was some kind of fight. My mom left with my grandpa and by default I went to Aunty Sam."

Titters in the courtroom.

"By default? That's how you see it, Matthew?"

"Pretty much. Mom told her to take me. To toughen me up."

"And there was a reading of the will? Did you attend that with Samantha?"

He nodded. "It was pretty violent."

"Really! How was that?"

"Well, my mom didn't get as much money as Aunty Sam so she attacked her. Pulled out her hair. Sorry Mom. But it's the truth."

"Objection!" Jimmy hollered. "Leading the witness."

"Sustained."

"What did your aunt do? Did she fight back?"

"No. She just asked for a bottle of gin."

"I see. Is your aunt a drinker then?"

"No. She's a comedian. She's just funny."

Alexia hopped to her feet. "Funny? A funny back-stabbing thief!"

Hito glared at Jimmy. "Contain your client, Mr. Ross."

"Matthew," Hannah continued. "Can you please tell the court about boarding school?"

"I hated it! There were mean boys there. Big boys. They held my head under the shower head and tried to drown me. I ran away to save myself."

"Where was your mother at the time you ran away?"

"In Spain. In Spain, so I went back to Aunty Sam's place. And my old school. I like my old school. I have friends there. And great teachers who understand kids."

"You love your mother, don't you Matthew?"

He vigorously nodded. "Of course! She's my mother."

"You know why we're here today, don't you, son?"

"Yes. To make a decision about where I'm supposed to be."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Well, I guess I don't get to choose. But I'd rather go to jail than back to boarding school."

"You'd prefer to go back to Aunty Sam's?"

"Objection! Leading the witness."

"Very well. Matthew. Can you please tell the court about life at Aunty Sam's?"

He smiled. "It's a good life. A happy life. We do neat stuff, like playing Scrabble. And flash cards. I went from failing math to a C."

"So, you're doing well at school?"

"All As and Bs, except for Math. And I'm going for a B next term."

"At Glen Robin?"

"I hope."

Jimmy Ross struggled to his feet. "Objection! Counsel isn't leading the witness she's dragging him. I'm all out of patience."

Hito narrowed his eyes. "So am I. Counselor, do you have anything new?"

"I do." She batted her lashes at Hito. "Matthew. Given the choice, where would you like to be?"

Jimmy almost swallowed his molars. "Objection! This courtroom is out of control! And sue me for contempt!"

"Overruled. You'll be given the same opportunity, Mr. Ross."

Jimmy fizzled into his chair.

Hannah spoke softly to Bed. "Where do you think you belong, Matthew? In the near future, I mean."

"Well," he said slowly. "If it would be alright with Mom I'd like to finish the school year at Aunty Sam's. It's over in June so we could decide more then. You see, I have responsibilities here. I own three fine dogs."

Hannah snatched a photo from our table. "Are these your dogs, Mr. Rahal?"

Bed squealed. "They are!"

"Could you please tell the good judge about your dogs?"

He pointed with his chubby finger. "This one is named Jack. He's a Jack Russell Terrier. And this guy is Sheep, a Sheepdog. And the Great Dane has a code name." His eyes sparkled.

Hannah jumped into the game. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Is it Great? Or, is it Dane?"

Bed giggled. "It's Great when he's a good doggie and Dane when he's bad."

"And how does he know the difference?"

"By the tone of voice. But sometimes I trick him. I'll say softly, 'Dane, you are so ugly. The ugliest dog ever. And you get no treats for a week." And he'll be so excited he'll almost knock me over. He'll salivate waiting for a treat. Then, of course, I have to give him one."

Titters.

"So, you torment your dogs?"

"Na. They know it's a game. I learned it from Jake. Jake gave me the dogs. When I came to his office with Aunty Sam. I was sick, you see, so Aunty Sam brought me to sleep on the sofa in her office. I had a temperature of what felt like a hundred and ten. Jake brought the dogs to see me, to cheer me up. And he gave them to me. He'd already named them so don't blame me for being corny."

Jake stood up to take a bow.

"No further questions." Hannah sauntered away.

Back at the defense table, Hannah whispered to me. "We've got this. Ross won't dare try to intimidate a child."

Little did I know that someone was sneaking up behind me. "How dare you!" Alexia screamed. "How dare you take my sick child to your workplace when he had a temperature of a hundred and ten!"

"Owe! Owe!" I cried, as she tugged at my hair. "Owe! He had a temperature of a hundred and one. He was just joking."

Alexia kept tugging. "That may have been a joke to you! But I'm his mother. My poor sick boy."

Well, let me just say that I learned a lot from Hannah. And it didn't take much more tugging for the wig to be yanked off my head and to flamboyantly sail across the table to the water pitcher. Splash! "Now you've done it, Alexia! You've torn out my hair."

Alexia looked stricken. Stabilized by the arms of Uncle Billy she screamed, "Samantha! You're bald! I didn't mean to do it!" She passed out cold.

Smiling, I slipped the skullcap off my head and shook my long strawberry hair. "The old wig in the water pitcher trick." I said. "It works every time."

In the meantime, Bed was being ushered by. "I told Aunty Sam to wear a wig," he told Hannah. "I knew Mom would try it again."

After recess, Bed returned to the stand for cross-examination. Jimmy Ross narrowed his eyes. "So, what kind of a kid are you, Matthew? A rough and tough kid? Do you play sports."

He nodded. "I sometimes play hockey."

It wasn't a lie, really. He did get dressed in a uniform once and went out to fall down on the ice. Even Wayne Gretzky fell down on the ice, Bed told me. More than once.

Jimmy nodded. "I played hockey. What position do you play?"

"Defense."

"What's the name of your team?"

"The Tigers."

"Triple A?"

"House."

Jimmy nodded. "I don't know much about House. But I understand it's a lot of fun. I played Double A."

"Is Double A fun?"

"Not really. I was back-up goalie and I mostly sat on the bench."

Bed grinned. "I know a lot about keeping benches warm. I'm pretty good at it."

Alexia, re-touched her red lipstick and started to yap. "I never gave permission for my son to play hockey. I had no idea my sister was turning him into a barbarian."

Hito yawned. "Muffle you client, counselor."

Jimmy's junior partner leaned over and whispered in Alexia's ear. She was an attractive woman in her late twenties, I guessed.

"Right!" Alexia screeched. "What am I now, an immigrant? I no speak English? I am not taking direction from a new Canadian. Especially one in diapers." She jumped up and roared at Jimmy. "I'm paying you two thousand dollars an hour and you dare to sluff me off?"

I leaned towards Hannah. "I want the same deal as my sister."

She let go her patent horse laugh. "Would that be the one with _Loser_ stamped on your forehead? Cause that's where she's going, baby. And if you want to join her, well, be my guest. You get what you pay for."

I shut up.

Jimmy Ross thumped across the floor to Alexia. "One more outburst from you and I'm off the case. Get it?"

She shot her haughty nose in the air. "I can't say you'll be missed."

Standoff.

"My fee just went up. Multiplied by ten."

Hannah elbowed me in the ribs. "Told ya, hun. I'm a deal."

Jimmy changed direction. "Do you like video games, Matthew?"

"I'm a kid. What do you think?"

"I think yes. But I'm out of touch with kids. What are they watching these days? Kids your age."

" _Resident Evil 7. Grand Theft Auto 5._ And _God of War 4._ To name a few."

"Wow! You must be a mature kid, Matthew. Those are adult videos, I believe. Violence. Nudity. Correct me if I'm wrong."

He smiled. "You are not wrong."

"About violence and nudity?"

Bed nodded. "They're definitely not for weaklings. In _Resident Evil 4_ a woman gets pinned to a wall with a pitch fork through her face." He waited for a response.

Jimmy coughed. "Not for weaklings, to be sure. Or parents. What about _God of War_?

Bed's eyes twinkled. "Well in the first one – and trust me, each one gets worse – the gods have tricked this guy into murdering his family. He seeks revenge by taking prisoners and burning them alive. Or sometimes he cuts them in half." Again, he waited for a response. And he got one from Alexia, who appeared to be suffering an asthma attack.

"Who helps you select these games, Matthew? Are they previewed by an adult or you allowed carte blanche?"

"All the cool kids have these games so I'm pretty much allowed."

"No screening then?"

"Aunty Sam doesn't believe in censorship."

"Does your mother?"

"My mother doesn't believe in technology."

I leaned over to burn Hannah's ear. "Unless it's a new instrument for sucking fat from the anus. That she'd understand."

Alexia jumped to her feet. "I heard that, Samantha! And you're not very nice!"

"Sorry," I responded. "But pulling hair isn't nice either."

Hannah let go her horse laugh. "You two are more alike than you realize. You must be related."

Jimmy stomped towards Hito. "Your honor. Hannah Hoffman needs to be disbarred. This courtroom is in shambles due to her lack of scruples."

Hito nodded. "Ms. Hoffman. I'll only warn you once. Then it's a nice night in jail with a cozy blanket."

Jimmy began to pace. "Matthew. When you lived with your mother were your video games screened?"

"Yes. By my dad. But he doesn't live there anymore."

"Would your mother not screen them?"

He shook his head. "She's squeamish. She faints at a drop of blood."

"Is there a parent lock on your computer at your aunt's house?"

"No. I'm almost fourteen. She gives me credit for having good judgement. I already told you that Aunty Sam doesn't believe in censorship."

Jimmy snickered. "Oh, I'll bet she doesn't."

"Objection."

"Sustained."

Jimmy stretched his scrawny neck. "So, there are no rules at your aunt's house. No wonder you want to live there. You can play violent video games and god knows what else you're finding on the web. No wonder boarding school didn't work for you. Boarding schools have rules."

"There are lots of rules at Aunty Sam's," Bed began but Jimmy cut him off.

"That will be all, Matthew."

And no re-direct, since Bed was a neutral witness. But Bedford Matthew wasn't going down without a fight. As he stomped his way out of the courtroom he hollered, "There are plenty of rules at Aunty Sam's! Strict rules! Like, no cake for breakfast. What kid wants to hear that? I mean, oatmeal? Yuk." He spread his arms wide in protest as they pushed him through the door.

Hannah was undeterred. "He held his own. Hito will respect him for that. But I'm going to recall you to the stand since I've reserved the right to re-direct. Hito will allow Jimmy a follow-up though. He's unconventional, especially where kids are concerned."

# Chapter Nineteen

Back on the witness stand I watched Hannah with interest as she paced back and forth while reading the notes on her pad. "Ms. Roe. Are there rules in your house?"

"Plenty of them. Matthew thinks I'm too strict, in fact. He had more freedom at his home in New York."

"Hearsay," Jimmy sputtered.

Hito nodded.

Hannah pressed on. "Let's talk about the rules in your house. What does Matthew do when he gets home from school?"

"He does his homework. When he's finished that he'll do some prep work for dinner. He'll scrub the potatoes, for instance, and put them in the oven. Then he'll set the table, or the Island, wherever we've planned to eat. Although I'm stepping back from a day job now, in the past I didn't get home until six o'clock. I used to stay at work much later but after Matthew came along I made a deal with Jake that I could take work home, when necessary. Jake understands kids. He has one of his own on the way."

Jake reached over and patted Angie's tummy.

"What programs does Matthew like to watch?"

"He likes _The Simpsons_. And old Hannah Montana reruns on Netflix. He's half in love with Miley Cyrus, although Arianna Grande has pushed her out of the equation these days."

"And after dinner?"

"He helps clean up. Then he is allowed to play video games for an hour or watch TV. He's in bed at eight and reads until nine. Then it's lights out on weeknights."

"What does he like to read?"

"Mysteries, as do I. He's reading his way through my library. Presently he's powering through Raymond Chandler. He took two books with him when he left with his dad. _The Big Sleep_ and _The Lady in the Lake."_

"He sounds like a normal boy to me."

Jimmy hooted. "Normal? What would you know about _normal_ , counselor?"

Laughter rocked the room.

Hito banged his gavel. "Order in the court." Then he cracked a joke. "I don't know where I got that from. I must have seen it on TV."

Hannah got back to business. "He eats well I take it?"

I nodded. "I'm strict about his diet. Occasionally fast food but mostly lean protein, vegetables, and a salad. And usually fruit or ice cream for dessert."

"What about the video games, Ms. Roe? Do Matthew's friends own the same games?"

"Yes. His friend, Adam, has the same ones. He brings them to the house, especially when he has a new one that Matthew has yet to acquire."

"And what did you say that Adam's father does for a living?"

"He's a United Church minister."

"I have no further questions."

Jimmy slinked towards me, a sneer lodged at the side of his mouth. "Tell me, Ms. Roe. If Adam's friends went running off a cliff like lemmings would you let Matthew go along?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Adam and Matthew are not rodents. It's not a fair comparison."

He snorted. "Oh, I disagree! Matthew is allowed to make decisions that could be harmful to him. Violent video games may adversely affect him in future. They may inspire aggressive, even violent behavior." He waved a thick document in my face. "This abstract contains research from many US universities, some of which are Iowa State, University of Wisconsin, University of Arizona, of Michigan etcetera. And I quote, _Research on violent television and films, video games, and music reveals unequivocal evidence that media violence increases the likelihood of aggressive and violent behavior in both immediate and long-term contexts. This research also suggests some avenues for preventative intervention, e.g. parental supervision, interpretation, and control of children's media use._

He waved the abstract in the air. "With your permission, Your Honor, I'd like to submit this report as evidence."

Hito nodded. "I can't promise to read it all."

"I have no further questions." Jimmy danced back to his chair.

"That's my boy!" cried Ms. Ross from the third row. "That's my Jimmy Wimmy!"

Her Jimmy Wimmy turned all red.

It was Alexia's turn next. "Forget the hair! Next time I'll rip my sister's tonsils out for making a criminal out of my son."

Hanna stood up. "Counselor Ross is just full of dirty tricks, isn't he? He cannot submit new evidence at his point and everyone knows it. This document wasn't part of discovery. Re-direct?"

Hito nodded.

Hannah walked to the witness stand and whispered in my ear. "I won't vehemently object to the new report because Hito won't read it. Hito is lazy." She turned back to the courtroom. "Ms. Roe. You've had a long day. Are we tiring you out?"

Trick question. If I said yes, I'd be admitting weakness. If I said no, I may come across as defiant. "I could use a G and T," I responded.

Heads nodded. Many could use a G and T too.

Hannah shook her long blond wig. "I owe you one, then. But I have a question. Do you play video games?"

"All the time. I also buy them and play them with Bed."

"In bed? You play video games in bed?"

"No. I play them with Bedford Matthew. Sometimes I call him Bed."

Alexia charged into a rant. "He hates it when she calls him Bed. He prefers Matthew but Samantha doesn't care. Samantha just likes to get under people's skin. Like her boss, Jake, for instance. She calls him Jake the Rake. And her precious Uncle Billy is Bill the Pill. Our own Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, is called Justifiably Noodle. Judge Hito is called... well, I shouldn't."

Hito sat back in his chair. "I wouldn't if were you, Ms. Rahal. Unless you want a tradeoff. I won't say what she calls you if you have the same respect for me."

She tossed him a half-smile. "Maybe I want to know, Judge."

He shook his head. "Trust me, you don't. And counselor Ross? Your client is one mouthful away from jail."

Back to Hannah who was saying, 'Have you ever played _Evil Resident_ whatever number?"

"Resident Evil? Yes, I have."

"And it's violent?"

I nodded. "It's a thriller. Number 4 is a vintage edition now and still being played a lot. Many players prefer vintage editions. They're attached sentimentally."

"Right!" hollered Jimmy. "I know I get sentimental over grisly murders."

"Jake prefers the vintage editions. Don't you, Jake?"

He blushed. "Are you going to tell them about my underwear with the pink elephants too?"

Laughter.

Mrs. Ross jumped up. "I don't believe it! Jimmy has elephant underwear too. He's likely wearing a pair today. His good pair."

Jimmy laid his head on the table and covered it with his hands.

Hito banged his gavel. "Order in the court!" Then he giggled. "I just love saying that. And I don't even know why."

Hannah persevered. "Ms. Roe. What kind of person are you? Are you a good person or a bad person?"

"I can answer that!" shouted a voice from the back of the room. All spruced up, Samuel of the Streets came limping forward. "I know this girl."

Hannah's mouth fell open. "Do you know this man, Ms. Roe?"

"I certainly do. He's Samuel. A friend of my mother's."

Samuel showed his missing teeth. "I only have good things to say, mam."

Hannah walked to the bench. "I'd like this man to testify."

Jimmy jumped up. "New testimony cannot be presented at this time."

Hito snatched the abstract from his desk and waved it at Jimmy. "Proceed, Ms. Hoffman."

I stepped down, Samuel stepped up, and Hannah walked back to the stand. "May I call you Samuel?"

"Sam is good. This isn't my funeral. Not yet, at least."

"Can you please tell the court where you live, Sam"

"On the street."

Awes of disbelief. Poor man.

"That sounds like a hard life. How do you manage to survive if you don't have a home? Or a job?"

His old hand rubbed an eyebrow. "I have a job. I look after people. Keep them from freezing and staving. I know the ropes."

She smiled. "You're sort of a king of the streets, would you say? That's very kind of you, looking after others. Would you please tell the court how you are acquainted with the defendant?"

He winked at me. "I've known Samantha since she was a little girl. And I knew her sister too." He pointed to Alexia. "But she left home when she was a teenager and I haven't seen her since." He gave Alexia a little wave.

Alexia smiled and waved back. "Hi Sam." she said aloud.

Samuel continued. "Eileen, their mother, used to bring the girls downtown at Christmas time. She brought a group of people with her. They'd have new sleeping bags and pillows, food, and money. Eileen always gave out money. Usually fifty-dollar bills. She didn't care where people spent it because it was a Christmas present and we could spend it as we pleased."

Hannah nodded. "She sounds like a lovely person to me. But she passed away, didn't she?"

"She did. She passed away this year. But Samantha didn't forget us. This year she brought her own group downtown to hand out sleeping bags and food and fifty-dollar bills, just like her mother."

"Samantha is carrying out her mother's good work, then?"

"She sure is. And she's very kind. Just like her mother. But this year was different, in a way."

"How so?"

"This year she brought a boy along. Her nephew. And she wanted me to tell him why people end up on the streets. He was scared of us, you see. And she wanted him to know that we aren't all that different from people that live in houses."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that many of us have made bad choices. Life style choices that have robbed us of a better life. Some are saved by families that come in search of them but many families have written off their addicted relatives. But not everyone is addicted either. Some are mentally ill and nobody wants them for that very reason. It's complicated."

"And sad," Hannah added. "But tell me, Sam. How did you know about the trial today if you live on the street?"

"Newspapers. Some of us collect them from the re-cycle bins. I read the paper every day. More than one, usually. And I read about our beautiful Samantha and her troubles over the boy. And I just thought I'd come and lend her a hand. To give her a leg up."

Hannah was nodding and smiling. "That's very kind of you, Sam."

"I'm not alone. The others are across the street waiting to hear. There's quite a crew but not everyone got to take a shower. I'm one of the lucky ones." He looked over at me. "We're pulling for you, Sam." He then looked directly at Alexia. "You don't think you might share with your sister, my dear? Maybe the two of you could share the boy." With that he hopped from the stand and limped down the aisle.

"Thank you, Samuel," Hannah called behind him. "That will be all."

# Chapter Twenty

Friday morning dawned and summation began with nothing new. Hannah portrayed me as a saint while Jimmy drew a picture of a red guy with a pitchfork and horns. Hannah told the court I'd altered my entire life to accommodate my nephew, not an easy feat for a career woman. Jimmy saw me as a childless, biological clock-ticking thief, a thief who allowed violent video games in her home and while he didn't actually say the word, _pornography_ , via the Net. I guessed he'd forgotten about the time he cut lingerie models from the _Sears_ catalogue and brought them to school at age six. That was likely my fault too.

At two o'clock Friday afternoon we were summoned back to court. I glared at Alexia and Alexia glared back. Someone was going to lose. And if the blank look on Judge Hito's face meant anything, well, the loser would likely be me.

He cleared his throat. "I'm not certain where to start but some wise person once said 'first things first'." He laughed at his own brilliance. "So, I'll just begin by discussing the damages against Ms. Roe. That one is easy. Ms. Roe cannot be punished for stepping in to look after her nephew while her sister was resting. She needs to be commended for this action."

Nods all around. Alexia surprisingly gave a little nod.

"And secondly." Spreading his fingers, he held up his hand. "Has anybody got a glove?"

Ok. The OJ Simpson trial. I mean, a judge named Hito? I politely laughed.

"But I've made a decision and it was easier than I thought. However, I should likely say that I've made a decision not to make a decision, if that makes any sense. In this courtroom we have two sisters fighting for custody of a boy. For a boy they both love. And it isn't about the video games at all." He scrunched his face at Jimmy. "My sixteen- year-old son plays these savage games and I'll never accept the title of bad father. I don't understand him, but then, who understands teenagers?"

Even Jimmy nodded. Likely because he still was one.

"My decision is clear and final. I'm ordering these two women to a hotel suite at _The Royal York_ for the weekend and between them, they had better work it out by Monday morning. And I'll preface the meeting my saying this. There will be no boarding school for this boy. Boarding school was tried unsuccessfully and he deserves better. Now, if his mother wants him, she will stay with him in New York. He can be home schooled or attend private school or any school of your choice but no boarding school. Understand?"

Quiet in the courtroom. "And if you want to live is Spain, Ms. Rahal, or anywhere else in the world, I suggest you work it out with your sister, who wants to take care of your son. The two of you have until Monday morning at ten o'clock to agree on a solution. Court is adjourned."

We were barely inside our hotel suite before Alexia began to shriek. "Oh no! This is awful! There's only one bathroom in this dive. We might as well be living in a cave."

Big deep breath. "I disagree. Personally, I feel I'm reliving _Shakespeare in Love._ Look at the beautiful period furniture. Queen Anne, I believe. Or some old person. This is the grand old _Royal York Hotel_ remember _."_

"Sure, Samantha," she condescended. "Whatever. Where's the champagne? You haven't ordered it yet?"

"It's coming with the second bathroom."

"Funny." She was studying her face in the gilded mirror. "Is Hito paying?"

"Now you're funny. Hannah is putting all expenses on your bill. Since she's sure I'm going to win."

She shook her long dark hair. "Ali will pay. He's not getting off Scott free. Just order buckets of Dom Perignon, Sam. On Ali."

"Do I look like a servant?"

She eyed me up and down. "No, you don't. You're stunning, actually. But you have the mouth of a servant. A disobedient one. Now, will you please order the fucking champagne? Three bottles minimum. I've had a stressful week."

Rather than argue with my sister I complied, smiling. I was going to win this thing, guaranteed. Having quickly powered her way through two bubbly bottles, Alexia started to giggle. She was sprawled out on a sofa looking a tad bleary. Alright, then. My bad. My blurry vision. Maybe I'd polished off a few bottles of champagne myself. And I vaguely remembered ordering more. Alexa was drinking straight from the bottle now. "I've always wanted a sister," she said drunkenly. "A nice one."

I nodded. "Me too."

"Maybe we could be sisters, Sammy. What do you think?"

"Maybe."

"Is it too late?"

"Not for me."

"Me either." She started to giggle. " _Sister Act_ , we'll call it. Because if we're going to be sisters who pretend to like each other it will take a lot of acting." With that she passed out cold.

I covered her with a blanket and while in the process of making Alexia comfortable I studied her beautiful face. I loved my sister. Although she was a difficult woman to like, with a lot of work on my part, I did love her. I especially loved her because she'd just called me Sammy, a name she hadn't used in years. So what if in the past she'd whispered the endearment only after pinching me hard and making me cry? At least she'd had the decency to say, 'Sorry Sammy Dear', like she meant it. And possibly did.

While Alexia soundly slept Saturday morning I slipped out to the _St. Lawrence Market_ for coffee and a croissant. Steeped in two hundred years of tradition, the market buzzed with activity on Saturdays as shoppers lined up for hot pretzels, an assortment of baking, myriad cheeses, meat and fresh fish. Bed and I had a history of shopping there, due to his penchant for cinnamon rolls and anything classified as food.

"Morning Marty," I called to our favorite fish monger. "Is the salmon fresh today?"

A good-looking Italian man, Marty wore his brown eyes round and his dark hair in a knot. He smiled. "Fresher than your breath. __ Want to come behind the counter and give me a test?"

"I'll pass for now, thanks. But it isn't easy."

He laughed. "Are you flirting with me, young lady?"

I nodded. "I am. I could use a little fun right about now."

His turn to nod. "We've been following your case, Kelly Anne and I. And we hope you get the boy. We don't think he belongs with your hair-pulling sister."

"She's alright, Marty. She's going through a bad time right now, that's all."

He chose a nice filet to present to me. "Will this do?"

"Another time, thanks. I'm going out with my sister tonight."

He screwed up his face. "Good luck with that." His laughter followed me as I pushed through the crowd.

When I returned to the hotel, Alexia was in a mood. "Why did you make me drink so much, Samantha? I have a terrible headache." She was stretched out on a sofa with a bag of ice on her head.

I smiled. "Wikipedia calls it a hangover, Alexia. And I didn't pour the booze down your throat, you realize. As I recall, you passed out with a champagne bottle in your hand. You were drinking straight from the bottle."

"Oh, no! And you didn't stop me?"

"I see. It's my fault then."

She tried to smile. "While it certainly isn't mine. I didn't know what I was doing but you did. You should have stopped me. I feel sick. And my ice has melted. Could you get me some new ice?" she whined.

"I might. If I could hear the magic word."

"You are a pain in the ass."

"And the magic word?"

"Ice."

"Try again."

"Thank you."

I snatched the bag from her hand. "You are a pill, Alexia."

She struggled to sit up. And when finally on her feet she carried herself around the room like a statue, balancing the fresh ice pack on her forehead. "I can't believe you let me almost kill myself. My face hurts. The alcohol went to my teeth."

"You'll be fine. All it takes for a hangover is one more day. According to Wikipedia."

"You can shove Wikipedia up your fucking ass, Samantha. I just don't care. I just want to live."

"And you will. According to Wikipedia."

"You are so bloody predictable!"

"I knew you were going to say that."

"Ha. Ha." With that she shuffled off to bed.

It was lonely sitting there in a hotel suite reading Stephen King on a snowy Saturday afternoon. I don't remember much about it, however, since I dozed through most of it. There was a boy, and evil twin girls, and a dad who turned bad along the way too. Around seven that evening I awoke to violent shaking. "Are you going to sleep forever or are you going to order in dinner?"

I yawned. "Got a broken finger?"

"I have servants to do that for me."

"Call one of them, then. Or room service. I pointed to the corner desk. There's a menu in that drawer over there. I assume you can read. Or do your servants do that for you, too?"

She stomped to the desk. "You are so bloody condescending, Samantha! How do you live with yourself?"

"I don't live with myself. I live with Bed. But I have him trained like a servant especially where food is concerned. He'd be on that menu like flies on pie." I sat up in my chair.

She removed a pair of skinny eye-glasses from her bag and started to read. "This is depressing!" She glared at me. "It's bad enough that I'm stuck in a hotel room with my mouthy sister, this menu is limited."

"It's a hotel, Alexia. Would you rather go out?"

She brightened. "You mean we can?"

"Of course. The court order says we only have one hour apart but we can definitely go somewhere together. Why don't we Uber it to the theatre district? Lots of great restaurants and interesting people coming and going. Musicals, too, although I doubt either of us has the stamina to make it through one tonight."

"Musicals? Like I don't live in New York?"

"Yup. Gunsmoke was just here. Although it was the classic radio version."

She slapped down the menu. "You just have to be sarcastic, don't you, Samantha? I respond rather well to civil conversation. You should try it for a change."

I felt guilty. And I promised myself to reform where my sister was concerned. A lot. At the restaurant on King Street we sat at the bar awaiting a table. We ordered two martinis – Alexia a vodka, Samantha a gin. Both up and extra dry with an olive. After a few sips I attempted to make amends.

"You are a woman of many talents, Alexia. And since you're financially independent what about charity work? There must be a charity close to your heart."

She looked at me as though I'd just abandoned my space ship. "I _give_ to charities. I don't work for them. They work for me."

Oops. "So you don't want to be on a board of governors?"

She hooted. "Not in this lifetime! I don't need the aggravation of everyone fighting and bickering over control because that's what boards do. I saw Mom being beaten up by her own shareholders and that's not going to happen to me. I don't need wrinkles."

Just then we were joined by a drunk who pushed his way between us. "You girls out for a night on the town?"

I held my tongue. He wasn't exactly attractive, you see. He weighed about two-twenty stone and reeked the perfume of a decaying fish. "No, sir," I chirped. "We are not out for a night on the town. We could never afford this place. We're just looking for a nice fella to buy our drinks."

Although I could barely see Alexia on the other side of the monster, she joined in the game. "And dinner. We're really hungry. We haven't eaten in days."

"I'm your man." The drunk started to sway. "I'll buy your drinks and dinner. For a threesome and five hundred bucks."

I shook my head. "Don't insult us. It's five thousand or nothing."

"Ten!" shouted Alexia from the other side. "With the money up front, of course."

His head bobbed. "I could do five. But that's it." He was heavily hanging on us now, his body weight all but crushing the two of us.

"He's going to pass out," I hollered to the bartender. "You need to get us some help."

He ran away.

"He's going to pass out!" I shouted, to no avail. I started the countdown. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One." Crash. He passed out all over Alexia who was powerless to shake him off.

"Get him off me," she screamed. "He weighs a ton."

Booze Boy hung on her like a grizzly bear carpet. "Help!" she cried. "I'm suffocating!"

I couldn't pull him off. He was a dead weight and ten times my size.

In due time a waitress appeared. She was small and wiry and a college student at best. "I'll get some help," she said cheerfully.

Well, so much for a pleasant dinner. After two waiters and three helpful patrons removed the zombie from the restaurant to an arriving police cruiser, Alexia just wanted to go back to the hotel where the room service menu had dramatically improved, she thought.

During a dinner of encrusted sea bass, that she had trouble finding fault with, Alexia started to whine. "This doesn't happen in New York. In New York people feel safe in the theatre district. I'd forgotten what a trashy town this is."

"Sad, isn't it? We've gone to pot. And not the good kind."

"Easy for you to be so glib. You didn't get smothered by a gorilla."

"So, we encountered a guy who had too much to drink. Big deal. He didn't hurt us."

"Speak for yourself. I'll be in physio for years."

"Alexia? Blow it out your ass."

"Samantha?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't remember. I've been traumatized."

Over coffee the conversation turned to the boy we both loved. "Are you willing to give up Spain, Alexia? Because your lifestyle there won't work for Matthew. You have the jet set and you travel a lot and he needs stability. He needs to return to a school he's familiar with. He's comfortable at Glen Robin."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that I keep Bed for the school year and you take him for the summers. To Spain or wherever you like. He talks about summers in the Hamptons where he was very happy as a little boy, although I know he'd be happy just spending time with you."

She stuck her nose in the air. "You're being condescending again, Samantha. And I'm not going to make a decision right now. I'll have to think about it."

"Well, don't think too long. We face Hito Monday morning."

# Chapter Twenty-One

Clouds shrouded the city on Monday morning with no signs of moving along. In the backseat of the cab, Alexia and I looked like dueling twins, backs to one another. It had been a long cold Sunday with little communication between us, other than for Alexia pouting and pointing to whatever she might want, and me shrugging in response. _No can_ _do, sister_ , I implied. _Get off your skinny ass and get it yourself_. Stalemate. Dinner was junk food from the minibar.

Crowds welcomed us to the courthouse, shouting and, I sensed, betting on the odds against me. I waved to Samuel who had recruited a support gang to cheer me on. Rude reporters started to holler, "Ms. Roe. Do you think you deserve to keep a boy you stole from your own sister? Your very own sister?"

"Ms. Roe. Why did you let a young boy watch pornography?"

"Give him up, Samantha. He doesn't belong to you."

Uncle Billy stepped in to steer me through the mob and behind him, Paulo put a strong arm around Alexia's waist.

"Ladies," Paulo said. "Beautiful ladies! We are at your service."

Uncle Billy wasn't so glib. "Why the circus? You could have come in the back way, you know."

I smiled. "We could have. But Alexia wanted the big deal. She wants her face splashed across the media. She thinks she's going to win."

"Alexia is crazy."

"Crazy like a fox. There's a very good chance she'll be leaving here today with her boy."

"That would be the time for a media circus, I should think. This is premature."

Hannah met us at the thick oak doors. She was dressed in a bright blue suit and wearing a slinky blond wig, one that actually stayed centered on her head. She batted her lashes at my uncle before turning to me. "So, your sister still hasn't made up her mind?"

I shook my head. "No. Or if she has she hasn't told me. It's a cat and mouse game with Alexia."

Just then Jimmy Ross pushed by. "Ho. Ho. Ho," he chanted. "There goes silly Sally Samantha Roe. Down. Done. Destroyed."

I smacked him on the arm. "Piss off, Jimmy Ross."

He liked that. "I hope you're a good loser, Hoffman. Cause you're going down too."

Hannah showed her teeth. "Go blow yourself, Ross. In your elephant underwear."

Jimmy pushed his coke-bottle glasses to the top of his nose. "If I were a betting man I'd say that Alexia will stay in New York and look after her son. Who actually belongs to her, by the way, Samantha." He cackled his way into the courtroom.

We followed behind him and shortly thereafter, Hito came puffing in. All rise, we rose. Hito sat down, we sat down. He called the lawyers to the bench where they whispered for quite a while. In the meantime, I gave in to the nagging voice in my head. 'You _are_ a thief, Samantha. You tried to beat the biological clock by taking a shortcut and by stealing your sister's son. Shame on you!'

Hannah returned to her chair with no news. "It's going to be a tough one. Alexia can't make up her mind so Hito will have to do it for her. Hang onto your hat, honey."

"This is a tough one," Hito told the court. "I was hoping these two sisters could mend their differences for the sake of a boy they both love but it doesn't appear that way. I am now in the unfortunate position of having to render a decision myself. A decision that may not be a popular one."

"Perhaps I can help," said a male voice at the back doors and the room went still.

Hito shook his head. "It's a little late for that, I'm afraid. This case is over."

Asian Robert came strolling down the aisle. "I'm not so sure about that. Perhaps I could help Ms. Rahal make up her mind."

Hito removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair. "How so?"

"I thought if she knew that I plan to marry her sister, and that I'd be in Matthew's life to lend a hand, well. That might make a difference."

Hannah elbowed me in the ribs. "Nice going, honey. He's a catch. Why didn't you tell me about him? We could have used him earlier."

I must have looked silly with my mouth hanging open. "I didn't know. He neglected to tell me."

Robert walked over to Alexia and held out his hand. "I'm Robert Noe. Your future brother-in-law."

Alexia grinned. "Well, Dr. Noe. I will have to shake your hand. You are a very brave man to take on my sister. I hope you know that she fights dirty."

He nodded. "I do. That's what I like about her, actually. But about Matthew. I've spent some time with him, here and in California where I live. He's a great kid and I'd be honored to be a bigger part of his life. And I do believe in censorship, by the way. Especially where a fourteen-year old boy is concerned."

Alexia raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow at me. "How come I've never heard of this man?"

I shrugged. "Because I hardly know him."

Robert walked towards me. "Liar. You're such a liar, Samantha! You are dead crazy about me and you know it. You are dying to marry me, admit it." He pulled me to my feet. Then he kissed me. Slowly and deliberately. And after releasing me to catch my breath he said, "Will you marry me, Sam?"

I shook my head. "Don't you think it's kind of sudden? You can't rush me, you know. I don't jump into things."

"There's a jeweler waiting at _Cartier._ If that's any help."

"Well, that changes everything. I've waited my whole life for a ring from _Cartier._ "

He took my two hands in his. "You don't have to be sarcastic. Everyone here knows you can afford to buy your own diamond ring. I just want to know if you'll accept one from me."

"I guess," I mumbled. "If I have to."

The courtroom went wild.

Hito was quick to call a family meeting in his chambers. He led the way while Alexia, Ali, Robert and I traipsed along behind. After a brief discussion, Alexia said,

"You don't even live here, Robert. That seems problematic to me."

He nodded. "I've thought things through. To start with, I'll commute while Matthew finishes up the school year. He'll spend the summer with you, wherever, and in the fall I'm hoping that Samantha and Matthew will move to L.A. Matt is an American citizen so that shouldn't be a problem."

Alexia screwed up her face. "L.A.? That's a long way away."

Robert smiled. "It's in the United States. It's not like we don't speak his language. And there's an academic talent school he may be interested in attending. He has some experience in acting, I'm told. He also writes. He's already written a play."

Vivid pictures of Bed the Lion went rolling through my head. "He did write a great play, Alexia. He was also the surprising star."

My sister was frumpy. "I don't see it. I don't see him as an actor, at all. I don't want him to be an actor, in fact. As I understand it, most actors in LA work in restaurants or car washes."

"Matthew may have an advantage," Robert said. "Since he has an _in_ with a Hollywood producer. One he'll be living with."

Ali's turn. "Let's be honest about the future, Alexia. You don't want to be in New York. You love the Riviera. Your social life is there. You can have the best of both worlds, if you think about it. And I take responsibility for my part in disrupting Matt's life but now it's up to you and me to make it better. We have to put him first."

She slowly nodded. "It is about Matthew. It's not about you and me."

Back in the courtroom Hito wasted no time in querying Alexia. "Ms. Rahal. You have made a decision?"

Chairs creaked as Alexia and Jimmy Ross rose to their feet. "I have, Your Honor. I have decided that Matthew will finish the school year here, with my sister, and that he should spend the summer with me."

Pandemonium. The smiling Judge Hito banged his gavel several times. He nodded to the bailiff who walked to the side door and ushered in Bedford Matthew Rahal. Bed walked to his mother where he threw his arms around her waist. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, son. Enough to let you stay here with Aunty Sam until the school year is over. Then we'll spend the summer in The Hamptons. What would you say to that?"

Tears streamed down his cheeks and he wiped them with his sleeve. "Really?"

"Really."

"And then what?

"Well, it looks like you'll be moving to California with Robert and Aunty Sam. There'll be a new school, though. Will you be able to handle that?"

He nodded. "I'll try."

"What about theatre school?"

"What?" he screeched.

"It isn't all fun and games. It's academic, you realize."

He started to hop up and down. "I can't believe it. This is so sick!"

Alexia's mouth fell open.

Judge Hito chimed in. "I have a son, Ms. Rahal. Sick is a good word. It means wonderful or fabulous or exciting. Whatever. It's a good word."

Once outside we were greeted by a mob of curiosity. Snowflakes fell all around as Hannah stepped up to the mike. "Before we begin let me say that I'll be taking no questions with the intent to damage the integrity of Ms. Roe. Enough is enough. Leave her alone. She is a fine, decent person and you've been dreadful. Shame on you."

A hush fell over the crowd. Shame on who?

"Now, if we can move along, I'd like to say that this is a happy day for both parties." She motioned for Jimmy to join her. "Counselor Ross and I are delighted by the outcome today because our clients have agreed to settle their differences themselves. Bedford Matthew Rahal will spend the remainder of the school year here in Toronto with his aunt and the summer with his mother in New York."

A lot of cheering. So, perhaps I wasn't such a bad person. Robert slipped his arm around my waist. "Now I have you where I want you, fair damsel."

"Fool. You don't even know if I'm good in bed."

"Doesn't matter. I'm good in bed. Maybe the rest is for you to learn."

We were standing in a row, Bed anchored between Alexia and me, with Paulo and Uncle Billy on either side. Jake, Angie, and Ali extended the string.

"What happens after that, Ms. Hoffman?" a reported hollered. "After the summer."

"This is only phase one. If it works, and there's no reason that it won't, there will be a phase two." She turned to Jimmy Ross. "Isn't that right, counselor?"

"Right!" he shouted. "I am delighted for my client. She got what she wanted. That's what she paid me for."

"Newton?" Hannah barked. "Is Newton in the crowd? Newton?"

Newton, in fact, was in the crowd and came forward, along with another Newton. Between the two they carried a large flat package.

"That's Newton's new boyfriend," Hannah explained to Jimmy Ross and the crowd. "He looks exactly like the old one, Shane. This one is called Sean. It's a scream, isn't it? Both wearing identical pink winter coats? Newton doesn't want a boyfriend he wants a clone. Apparently, Sean has furniture, though. Furniture is his big appeal since Shane cleaned Newton out." She turned to face us. "Matthew. Would you please come forward?"

He screwed up his face. "What for?" He was scared of her with good reason. Hannah was loud and crass and wore crooked wigs.

She waved him forward. "For a present."

I gave him a little shove. "There are witnesses. She likely won't bite."

He inched forward.

In the meantime, Newton and Sean removed the brown paper wrapping.

Hannah beamed. "This is for you, Matthew. Because we know you love dogs. This is from Newton and me. It was hard for Newton to give up his favorite painting. It was my favorite too so we hope you like it."

"My god!" I shrieked. "It's Gruesome!"

Robert elbowed me hard. "That's so rude! He looks like a nice dog to me."

"You don't get it. It's Gruesome. That's his name. Hannah named him. Or Newton did. It's a long story. Listen. Bed is speaking."

"Thank you, Ms. Hannah. He's a very nice dog. I'll hang him on the wall at Aunty Sam's."

Hannah volunteered her horse laugh. "I know Aunty Sam will love it!"

"Fuck you!" I mouthed to Hannah. And then to Robert. "I hope you like dogs because Gruesome will be coming with us to California."

He thought about it. "There's always a price to pay for loving a beautiful woman."

Soon Hannah was by my side with her arm around my shoulder. "This isn't goodbye, honey. You'll be seeing a lot of me at your uncle's place. Did you tell her, handsome?"

"Not yet."

"Tell me what?"

He giggled. "Tell you that you're coming to a wedding. Hannah and I are on our way to city hall to pick up a license. We'll be having a shindig at the cottage next weekend."

Well, after I picked myself up from that staggering news, Alexia came along leading Paulo by the hand. "I have news too." Her cheeks were flushed and she looked like a little girl. "Paulo is coming with me to Spain."

"What?" I screeched.

She hooked her arm through mine and led me away. "Isn't this amazing?"

"Amazing is hardly the word. You're running away with your dead mother's common-law husband? I'd say that's earthquake proportion. Besides, you hate the man."

"Not anymore. Not since this morning when he put his strong arm around me to steer me through the crowd. I wanted to jump his bones right there and then."

"Alexia!"

"Samantha!"

"My god!"

"We had time to talk, standing there listening to Hannah. He put his arm around me and told me I was beautiful. He's very attracted to me, he said. Isn't that great?"

"You are beautiful, Alexia. You don't need anyone to validate the fact."

"Don't be clinical, Sammy. I'm madly in lust and it feels terrific."

I sighed. "I guess I'll have to be happy for you then, won't I?"

"And for Paulo. He's happy too."

"I'm glad."

"And do you want to know what the kicker is?"

"I guess."

"Now I have the chance to marry Mom's money."

Arm and arm we walked our way back to the others where I opened my bag. "I have something for you, Alexia." I handed her a blue velvet box. "It's Mom's parrot broach. She wanted you to have it."

Smiling, she opened the box. "I love it! Thank you so much, Sammy. I knew you had it." She removed it from the box and with great care pinned it on my collar. "I want you to have it. This is my gift to you. And don't say I never gave you anything."

I hugged my sister hard.

After the goodbyes, Robert and Bed lugged Gruesome to the rental car. One more surprise and I'd be ashes in somebody's jar, I was thinking. Maybe Bed's. _Bed's Jar._ What a great title for a children's book and perhaps a good place to start.

"You'll have to lie down in the back seat," Robert told Bed. "And we'll put this damn big painting on top of you. It's the only way it will work."

Bed started to grumble. "I'm a rich kid. Rich kids don't stoop to demeaning positions."

"Well, we could take Gruesome instead of you. Take your pick."

Bed belly-flopped on his stomach. "How humiliating!" He complained all the way home. "I can't breathe under this thing. Why that stupid lawyer gave me this stupid painting is beyond me. I should probably burn it."

"I have a better idea," I said out of the blue. "Why don't you give it to Uncle Billy for a wedding present? I think he'd really like it."

Robert cracked up. "You would let him do that?"

"It would serve Hannah right."

Later that night I tucked Bed into his massive pile of quilts. "So, Bedford Matthew. You drew the short straw and you're stuck with me."

He nodded his curly head. "It's what I wanted but I feel kind of sorry for Mom."

"Me too. A little. But always remember that she still wants you. She's just lending you to me for a while. So you can go back to your friends and finish school. She has your best interest at heart."

"And she does have Paulo."

"Paulo is a hunk."

"Ya think?"

"I know."

"If Paulo is such a hunk why didn't you nail him? You've got it all over Mom."

I socked him with a pillow.

"Owe! Not fair. You hit me with a weapon."

Robert appeared in the doorway. "Do I get a goodnight hug too?"

"Only from me. The boy is mine."

Back in the living room I lit the fire while Robert opened the wine. When we'd settled in Robert said, "How does it feel to be the future Mrs. Noe?"

"Strange. I've been thinking about my new hyphenated name. Ms. Sally Samantha Roe-Noe. You might have to change your name."

"To what? Roe?"

I nodded. "That works for me."

"You might want to drop the Roe."

"You might want to drop the Noe."

"Are we going to fight again?"

"Not over sex because you're getting it tonight, baby. And you'd better be good. I don't like false promises."

My iPhone rang just then. It was Hannah.

"I'm sittin' here in a bar with Ross and Hito, honey."

"I heard you guys do that. It makes a mockery of the justice system, you know."

"Did you get what you wanted?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"Zip it then. Ross has something to say to you."

I could hardly wait.

"Hey gorgeous. Ho. Ho. Ho."

"Thanks, Jimmy. You're a peach. Was there anything else?"

"Yes. I just wanted to say that I'm glad you got the boy."
