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[Inigo]

Callum’s days as a baby passed in the blink of an eye. Everyone was so busy with school work and not stumbling over each other that when Betty suggested Dawood start planning for another big birthday party there was a collective gasp.

“Please don’t spend any money on a birthday party for me, Dad,” begged Allan. “I’m a teenager now and I really need a car!”
“You need a car?” laughed Dawood. “Your mom and I don’t even have a car.”
“What if we get you a new bike instead?” asked Betty. “It’s better for the environment. And plus it’ll help you lose that extra bit of weight you’ve put on.”
“A bike’s not the same as a car,” argued Allan. He pinched his little boy belly roll and scowled.
“Allan, if I can ride my bike to the hospital while in the middle of contractions and have you delivered safely, then a bicycle should be good enough for you.”

Everyone in the family groaned.

“I can’t make out with a girl in the back seat of a bicycle, can I?” challenged Allan.
“Allan, it’s not only your birthday – it’s Ginger’s too,” interrupted Dawood in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
“And in a couple of days Callum’s going to be a toddler,” added Betty. “He gets a birthday party, too!”
“And me,” said Winona. “It’s my birthday, too!”

The rest of the family looked at Winona as if she were a sideshow circus act. They had adjusted to her stunted growth so well that the thought of her growing up – into a teenager no less – gave them all a big brain fart.

“If Allan gets a car,” continued Winona, “then I get one, too!”
“Look,” answered Dawood. “Neither of you are getting cars. You can get jobs and earn your own set of wheels, if you really need to. But we aren’t buying either of you a car. So stop asking.”

Allan stomped outside to sell muffins to absent neighbours. Winona followed him, teasing him about kissing girls. Dawood sighed after them, and went outside in the other direction to work on the garden. Betty left the room to cuddle Callum one more time, Ginger trailing after her to play with her blocks. Winston was left behind in the high chair, an empty bowl in front of him.

“My birthday too,” mumbled Winston, but no one was there to hear him.

The next day Dawood invited his friends from work over to celebrate his oldest son and his youngest daughter each grow up into their next stages of life. The Wonders’ neighbour, Ariel Wolfe, stopped by when he noticed all the guests show up and joined the party with lots of welcome enthusiasm.

Allan kick-started the party with the first cake. He couldn’t wait to leave his childhood behind. He knew as a teenager he would have more responsibility, but he also knew he would have more say in what went on in his life. Besides, with his mom and dad so busy with four other kids, he was betting he could pretty much get away with doing anything he wanted. He blew out the candles amid tons of applause and swam with delight in the twinkling rainbow lights surrounding his metamorphosis.

“I won’t miss your burnt muffins,” Ariel confided to Allan. “But I’m looking forward to having someone to sneak out of the house with.”
“Do you have a car?” asked Allan.
“I have two!” laughed Ariel, cementing the boys’ friendship for life. Allan looked forward to future to taking out girls on double-dates with Ariel. He knew dating would be easy for him because as it turned out Allan was going to be a great kisser.

Betty gathered up Ginger once the guests had finished with the first round of cake. She had a soft spot for Ginger, even if her second daughter never turned out to be a red-head. The kid was smart. Must have been all the science shows she watched on TV.

Everyone gathered around for the second time at the double-bash and cheered on Ginger’s sparkling growth spurt.

“Tada!” cheered Ginger back to the party crowd. “I know everyone’s thinking they’re stuffed by their first piece of cake, but none of you can resist a second piece I’m sure!”

She was a very perceptive child.

Ginger, Winona, and Allan took their second helpings out to the backyard picnic table to eat. The family gnome stood defiantly in the middle of the table, refusing to move.
“I’ve never gotten used to that thing,” whispered Winona.
“He should be wearing a party hat,” agreed Allan. Ginger giggled.
“I’d like to see him wear one on my birthday,” laughed Winona.
“Don’t hold your breath,” snorted Allan.
They finished eating their cake under the stern gaze of Master Whatshisname, and went inside to say goodbye to their guests and help clean up.

Winona could almost have held her breath, at least until her party, because her turn came just days later, at another double-birthday bash she shared with baby Callum.

Winona’s birthday was a big deal. Neither of her parents took it for granted that she would reach the next stage. It had been so unfortunate that simply because her father had remembered her as an infant on his travels to Egypt, even after she had grown into a toddler, the poor child had years added to her young life. On the good side at least some of that oldest child pressure had been taken off of her, as Allan accelerated by.

Winona joined in with the noisemaking and cheering of her guests – sometimes she didn’t quite believe it herself when her birthday came. She gave herself over to the spinning lifting sensation of entering the next stage of life, smiling as she emerged a beautiful teenager. A teenager who could no longer stand the taste of dead flesh.

Callum’s first cake came right on the heels of Ginger’s new status as a teen. Betty had to put the baby down on the floor at the far corner of the room it was so crowded. In fact, the guests were so involved in cheering and noisemaking that Callum’s terrible twos began behind all of their backs. He did not fail to notice, being a perceptive child like his sister Ginger. It didn’t bother him too much, though. What bothered him more was his inability to get himself outside – he couldn’t wait to be old enough to go camping, or fishing, or playing the park.

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[Inigo]

Some time after the glut of birthday festivities the house returned to “normal.” The kids helped each other with homework, and built new friendships with the other kids they met in their new classes at school. Winona’s friend Brenda displayed a streak of evil, but was well behaved to everyone in the house as a guest. Allan hung out with his rich friend Ariel, waiting for the right moment to sneak out of the house. Ginger had decided, thanks to a science show she’d seen on TV, that she was going to be an inventor and spent all her spare time at her home lab. Winston aged up but Betty and Dawood forgot his birthday, which may have accounted for his newly developed hot-headedness.

Betty felt the bulk of the weight of guilt about that one. First of all she was so determined to have a large number of kids that she’d never thought about how she might handle the volume of work, and took the blame for Winston’s neglect. Secondly, and this was her true guilt, she had been focused on completing her first sculpture commission of hollow wooden floor ornaments. It had taken all of her bravery to bicycle to the aforementioned “abandoned” warehouse without being seen. She was furious at herself for having taken such a risk once she had actually arrived at the designated meeting spot. The company representatives had left a blindfold on the dusty floor inside the rusty rolling gate and had requested, via a crackling loudspeaker from somewhere beyond, that she put it on. She had offered a small argument, but eventually complied. Once blindfolded, she had heard a door creak open from the far end of the warehouse, and steps approach. The unseen figure had taken forever. The closer the footsteps got and the louder they became, the louder her own heart beat in her throat. The man had never said a word, but roughly searched her and took the sculptures from her inventory. She had asked in a faltering tone about the payment owed her, but gotten no response. She had reached up to take off the blindfold when the voice had crackled over the loudspeaker again.

“Do NOT take off the blindfold under any circumstance.”
“What about my payment?” she had asked again, hesitating.
“It will show up in your Bank account the moment you leave here. Don’t move until we say.”

She had stood still until the heavy footsteps vanished into the distance and the far door slammed shut. The loudspeaker voice had instructed her to leave the blindfold on the floor where she’d found it, and to leave the warehouse immediately. Oh, and they knew where she lived.

Betty vowed to spend all of the money she’d made on fixing up Winston’s new bedroom. It was also Ginger’s bedroom, true, but she and Dawood couldn’t exactly afford a six-room house on either of their salaries, even with the extra income from sculpting and adventuring.

They had renovated on an extensive level, however, ripping out the central kitchen in favour of a central family room, now that they had made the plunge and committed to adding a second story to the house. The extra space was so much nicer – particularly with the two additional bathrooms they were able to install. The backyard remained unlandscaped, but all that expanse of rough lawn allowed for endless games of catch or tag, and that made Betty happy. And it didn’t matter how dirty the kids got in the garden because she and Dawood had managed to buy the family a washer-dryer.

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[Inigo]

Winona’s school gave her an opportunity to write a report on France. She ran home excited as the memories of all her dad’s adventure stories came rushing to mind. She’d be able to ace the report without ever having to leave her own room. Well, sort of her own room since she shared it with Allan, but he was never home and when he was he was usually downstairs painting bad portraits.

“I think you’ve missed something here, sweetheart,” mused her dad when she shared her finished paper with him.
“I did?” sighed Winona, convinced she hadn’t gotten any details wrong.
“Your assignment says you have to go to France,” continued Dawood, rereading the report cover sheet.
“Ya, but I can’t go to France,” explained Winona.
“Why not?”
“Um… you mean, I can?”
“I don’t know why not,” shrugged Dawood.
“Oh My God I’m Going To France!!” shrieked Winona, running in circles around the house, hugging everyone in her whole family.

“No way,” said Betty later on when she and Dawood were alone. “It’s too dangerous. She’s too young. She’s fragile! Something might happen again, with, you know… Ra.”
“It’s not like I’m sending her on her own,” defended Dawood. “I’ll be with her the whole time, keeping an eye on her.”
“Like that makes me feel better,” snorted Betty.
“It should,” argued Dawood, his feathers ruffled. “Besides, I’ve already told her she could go and the tickets are paid for. Unless you want to take her place?”
“You know I can’t. I’ve got the kids, the laundry…”
“Look – she’s worked really hard at school, and this is a great opportunity for her. She’ll be exposed to a new and exciting culture, experiences she just can’t get here at home.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” muttered Betty.

A few days later Winona and Dawood checked in to the little guest house that Dawood frequented when in France.

“Papa! There’s another Egyptian staying down the hall,” whispered Winona the first morning. “And he’s wearing traditional garb!”
“It’s true. You might also meet travellers from China and elsewhere. And there more people that you meet the more you will learn that we all share the same wants and fears, and all love our families the same way.”
“China!”
“Yes. Now, we only have a few days here. Is there anything in particular you wanted to see or would you like me to show you what I know?”
“I don’t know!!” gushed Winona.
“Ok,” laughed Dawood. “Then let’s just get out there and see where the day takes us.”

Winona and Dawood left the guesthouse and walked to the centre of town. On the way out, Dawood checked the bulletin board to see if there was anything interesting posted. He tore a phone number off an ad that was written in a very obtuse manner, and shoved the scrap of paper in a pocket. He shrugged off Winona’s questioning look and told her he’d explain later.

In the town square they found a quaint little café, and under a canopy of trees each shared a latte and peach crepes.

“I could stay here forever,” swooned Winona while licking a stray drip of foam from her lip.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” agreed Dawood.
“And everyone’s so friendly,” continued Winona. “A woman at the antique store even helped me practice speaking French! She gave me some ideas for my report, too. But Papa, I don’t know how we’re going to fit everything in! There’s the museum, and the gallery, and the cafes, and the mausoleum, and the riverside park, and the countryside with all the pretty little farms…”
“Don’t forget the Wineries,” added Dawood, although immediately regretted it.
“The wineries! Oh my god, can we go to one right now? Please?!”

Dawood easily succumbed to his daughter’s big doey eyes. Besides, he had business to take care of at one of the big wineries just outside of town, and it would give Winona a chance to experience a bit of France while he met with his associate. She was a good kid and he trusted her not to get into any trouble. She would be alright by herself for a short amount of time, surely.

Winona and Dawood rented a pair of scooters, and donning their helmets raced out of town toward the vineyard. Winona wore a perma-grin on her face until she hit an insect and swallowed it accidentally. Dawood could hear groans and spitting sounds from behind him the rest of the way to the winery. He couldn’t help laughing to himself. Some lessons in life were harder to learn than others, he thought.

The winery sat nestled among rolling vineyards where all sorts of different varieties of grape were grown. Winona had never heard of any of them, and began taking notes immediately. Dawood excused himself and slipped into another room with the winery’s owner to discuss business.

Winona made herself comfortable in the winery’s cozy sitting room. She admired the fireplace and imagined all the years guests had warmed themselves in front of it. There was a bar at the far end of the room to which visitors helped themselves to different types of wine.

“What’s that one like,” Winona asked a young man who was pouring himself a glass of deep hued red.
“I don’t know yet,” he grinned. “Why don’t you try a glass yourself?”
“I, uh, because, I, um,” she sputtered as he pulled out an extra goblet and shared the bottle with her. She took the glass when he offered it, and copied him when he raised his own in a silent toast to shared goodness. The ruby coloured liquid tasted like nothing she’d ever experienced before. At first she didn’t like it, and scrunched up her face.
“Maybe this grape is not for you,” the young man suggested. “Have you tried any others? There are wide varieties in the vintage store at the front.”
He seemed oblivious to Winona’s young age.
“I’m too young to drink,” she explained.
“Bffff. Nonsense!” he cried, but took the rest of his bottle to share with someone who would appreciate it. Winona decided to have a look in the store and see what else she could taste.

The winery vintage store had shelves floor to ceiling stocked with all kinds of bottles of wine. Winona perused the labels, repeating the words over in her head: names of grapes, controllers, vintages, styles, blends, wineries, regions, chateaus.

“Oh!” she cried as she reached a new shelf. “It comes in white, too!”

She plucked an old-looking bottle of the white variety off the shelf and took it to the cashier.

“That will be 600 euros, s’il vous plait,” said the cashier, ringing through the bottle, and like the young man she’d met earlier, surprisingly nonchalant about her young age.
“I’m sorry, I only wanted to taste it…”

The cashier rolled his eyes and grunted. He directed her back to the sitting room she had come from and told her to stick to tasting the bottles available there. He had meant to embarrass her for causing him extra work, but Winona was so elated at the thought of unlimited tasting that she didn’t notice.

Winona found another bottle of white wine in the tasting room and poured herself a glass. She found it easier to drink that the red had been, but her palate was still unused to its complexity. After another two glasses, however, it didn’t matter.

“I think I need to find a bathroom,” Winona thought to herself midway through the second bottle. She slid off the bar stool and almost slipped straight to the floor. She caught herself against the counter and managed to right herself, despite the room spinning. She shook off her wooziness and figured she should probably not go for the third bottle like she’d planned.

Winona spotted the young man who had shared a glass with her earlier hanging out in the vintage shop. She stumbled over to him, holding up the walls as she went.

“Hey!” she said, poking him in the back. “Are you French?”

The young man turned abruptly, his arm back and his hand formed into a fist, ready to throw a punch. When he saw it was Winona and noticed how wobbly she was on her feet, he relaxed.

“You are too young to drink, aren’t you,” he observed, feeling a bit guilty.
“Thashnot true I can,” slurred Winona, starting to shake her head but then thinking better of it.

The young man excused himself but returned right away with some bread and cheese. He insisted she eat all of it, and pretty soon she felt much better. They spoke for a while about French cinema and Voltaire, and promised to write each other once Winona had returned home.

Dawood appeared out of nowhere and apologized for leaving Winona on her own for so long. Winona shrugged off his concern with an exaggerated wave and suddenly hiccupped.

“Winona, have you been drinking?” Dawood asked, horrified.
“Who, me? *hic*” she managed, followed by another hiccup. Her young French friend, at this point still unacknowledged by Dawood, slunk backward out of the situation and disappeared around a corner wine rack.
“Oh, your mother’s going to kill me,” lamented Dawood, leading his under-aged drunk daughter out the front door.
“Can we *hic* come back tomorrow, Papa?”
“No!”

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[Inigo]

Winona clutched her pounding head all through breakfast the next morning. Her father had insisted on filling her up with glass after glass of water the night before, swearing that it was going to prevent her from feeling sick.

“Can I just stay in bed today?” she cried.
“No way,” said Dawood. “You’re here to learn, not sleep. And no more alcohol for you. Ever.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Papa, I’m never drinking again. But can you please stop yelling?”
“Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll try not to. Now, about our itinerary today… I know we’d been planning on visiting the grand museum, but I hope you don’t mind if we stop off at a chateau first. I have to pick something up for an acquaintance of mine, and I can’t leave it for another day – it’s too urgent.”
“Whatever,” groaned Winona through her clutching hands, her heart jumping at the word chateau.

The two of them jumped onto their rented scooters and rode, closed-mouthed, through the countryside to a huge eighteenth-century mansion. There was no one around the extensive grounds, and instead of ringing the front door bell, they slunk to the back of the chateau. It was obvious no one was home. Winona started to put on her helmet when she heard the sound of breaking glass. She looked at her dad as he snaked his arm through the empty pane and jiggled open the handle.

“Oh my God,” she freaked. “Papa, did you just break in to the house? What are you doing?”
“What I’m expected to,” replied Dawood. “It’s not something you need to worry about, I promise. And no one is going to show up here – the owner passed away last year.”
“But…”
“I promise, it’s ok. But I also need you to promise me something, too.”
“I told you I’m not going to drink!”
“I’m glad, but that’s not what I was going to ask. When we get inside I’m going to leave you on the main floor hallway while I go and get what I need from upstairs,” explained Dawood. “It may take me awhile, but whatever you do, don’t follow me. Parts of the house are unsafe.”
“Please don’t leave me alone, Papa!”
“You’ll be fine as long as you stay where I tell you to. Promise?”
“I promise,” whined Winona as her father led her through a passageway into a wider more elaborate main floor hallway. Dawood explained that this was where she needed to wait, no matter how long he took. This was going to be soooo boring.
“And absolutely no drinking!” He winked at her before disappearing through an elaborate set of doors halfway down the hall.

Winona waited obediently for what seemed like hours. She sang a few songs, listening to her voice echo up and down the long hallway. She ran races with herself from one end to the other but stopped when she got tired of always winning. She braided her hair, and made Princess Laia buns. She fought an imaginary light sabre duel with imaginary ghosts. She won that, too.

“That’s it,” she chided at last. “I can’t stand it anymore!”

Winona crept through the elaborate carved double doors behind which her father had disappeared. On the other side of them was a vast stairwell which climbed high above over several stories. The floor of the vestibule was clad in fine stone tile, leading to the front doors which she and her father had not bothered with.

“Papa!” shouted Winona. Her voice carried up the staircase, bouncing off the floors above.
“Ouch” she winced as the sound stung her head. She giggled, but stopped when there was no response from Dawood. “Where is he?”

She approached one of the large stone statues that stood in the middle of the vestibule. It didn’t look like it belonged. It was much older than the chateau – old enough to have come from some ancient tomb. Winona caressed the cool surface of the statue. The big statue wobbled under her hand and she snapped it away. What if she broke it by accident? She gave the statue a wider berth, and crept around it to get a look at the other side. As she got closer to the stairs she heard the sound of large metal cogs rolling and clicking into place.

“What the-“ she started, but the entire area around her erupted with a burst of electricity, shocking her with such force that she lifted right off the ground and was suspended in mid-air. She could hear herself crying and moaning but had no control over her own voice. The powerful electric tendrils shook her body and burnt the clothes from her skin. She tried to call for her father but her brain itself was starting to fry. The tendrils vanished as suddenly as they had appeared and she was thrown back to the floor, singed from head to toe. She passed out.

Winona barely heard her father calling her name up and down the hallway where he had left her. The big double doors burst open between the vestibule where she lay, fried, and the hallway where she had promised to stay. She heard her father’s intake of breath.

“Papa,” she croaked through her chapped, blackened lips.
“Oh, what have I done?” cried Dawood, gathering up his charred daughter in his arms. “I’ve got to get you to a shower.”

Dawood raced home with Winona, putting her in a bath as soon as they reached the guest house. Winona had never seen her father cry, but she was sure those were tears pooling in his dark wrinkly eyes. He put her to bed and promised her that the next time she asked to stay in bed all day he would let her no matter what.

Winona slept through the night and woke up the next morning totally famished. She found her way to the big country kitchen on the main floor intending to rifle through the fridge for whatever soup was available. Instead she discovered her father cooking over a big pot on the stove. She took a seat across from him at the counter.

“Oh sweetheart, how are you feeling,” asked her dad, his voice clouded with guilt.
“Much better, Papa, really. All I needed was the long bath,” she assured him, remembering the tears of the night before.
“I’m so sorry,” Dawood continued. “I should never, never, never have taken you with me to the chateau. I should have known it would be too hard to wait for me…”
“I’m sorry, Papa,” said Winona. “I tried.”
“I know you did – and I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for forgetting that you’re my daughter and that you might take after your father a little.”

Dawood smiled at her, the guilt still showing. He served them each a plate of breakfast spaghetti which they ate together at the counter.

“What was that thing, Papa? With all the electric rays?” Winona shuddered at the painful memory.
“That was an electricity trap. It’s used to prevent thieves from stealing valuable artefacts from tombs.”
“Oh, I remember them now, from your adventure stories. You told once how you got caught in a flying dart trap, and put to sleep for a day. But I assumed you had made that up.”
“I wish,” muttered Dawood. “But it’s true, dart traps are real, and electricity traps, and fire traps, and…”
“Mummies?” laughed Winona, thinking she already knew the answer to that one.
“Well, uh,” hesitated her dad.
“No!” cried Winona. “No way!”

Dawood merely shrugged. His daughter could choose to believe him or not. He had spent twenty years hiding the truth of his dangerous adventures from his wife and didn’t intend to spell it out for anyone at this point. He changed the subject by starting on the dishes.

“Mom has no idea, does she?” asked Winona after breakfast.
“No, she does not,” confirmed Dawood. “And I don’t want to ask you to keep secrets from her, but I would be really happy if you felt like keeping this one to yourself.”
“I won’t tell her if you won’t,” agreed Winona. “I sure don’t want Mom knowing I got drunk!”
“Ok, then.”
“Ok!”
They shook on it, then Dawood laughed and pulled his daughter into the kind of big bear hug he had given her as a child.
“I love you, Papa,” murmured Winona.
“I love you, too, sweetheart,” said her dad. “Now and forever.”

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[spladoum]

:lol: Well, at least she learned that lesson now, when her dad was around to protect her! I'd hate to think of what she might have gotten herself into if she'd stayed behind at the hostel without him!

[Inigo]

So I've indulged in building an entire Wordpress blog devoted to these guys - couldn't help myself after discovering there are tons of them already! Anyhow, it's here:

http://awondrouslegacy.wordpress.com/

I hope it's pretty ;-)
And that it gets some readers - haha - because so far, four days in - nada!

Anyway... games back up and running successfully (wasn't for a moment - frozen Sims! Argh!, and I've added a new chapter. So, without further ado (apart from an aside here that I've re-numbered the previous chapters on wordpress and am going to continue what I've now established there - sorry for any confusion),

Here's some more plot and pics:

[Inigo]

Dawood enjoyed the return to something akin to normal life after vacationing with his daughter. He was too old for the extra responsibility. He would be retiring soon, and focusing on his dreams of total tomb exploration between visits home to his large family. He caught himself - visits abroad, not visits home. He belonged here, and knew that he had limited time left to enjoy his children. Ginger would be a teenager the next day. His wife was ready to retire!

He made dinner for the family, a simple autumn salad that vegetarian Winona could enjoy, too. He called the family to dinner but only Allan showed up.

"Where is everyone," he asked his son.
"I dunno," shrugged Allan. "Around?"
"Maybe we should take advantage of having some time alone," offered Dawood. "Is there anything you wanted to ask me?"
"Uh... how come we aren't having meat for dinner?"

Dawood scowled. He wanted his son to feel free to confide in him about whatever he wanted, but Dawood hadn't spent the time he should have building that kind of relationship with his oldest son.

"What did you do today," tried Dawood. "Anything interesting?"
"Not really. I took a painting class. They had nude girls," said Allan, smirking.

Dawood was about to respond when Betty marched around the corner, plopping Callum in the high chair. Winston raced down the stairs and into the room behind her, and breezed by them into the kitchen for a plate.

"Where's Ginger?"
"Having a shower," explained Winston with a sneer. "She made me to go to the junkyard with her today, then took off on her bicycle and left me riding way behind. Then when I got there she was too busy rummaging through piles of dirt to play, so I had to talk to strangers. I'm not allowed to talk to strangers! But Zelda let me sit in the office and read, so she was nice. But Ginger was not!"

Winona burst through the front door, panting from the long uphill bike ride.

"I got a job today," blurted Winona on her way through the room to grab her own plate from the kitchen. "At the bookstore, after school. I'm gonna buy a car!"

Ginger came in from upstairs, wondering why everyone was staring at her.

"Where have you been, young lady?" asked Dawood.
"Around..." answered Ginger, avoiding the question. "I was riding my new bike."
"Anywhere in particular?" coaxed her mom. Ginger flushed.

The boys got up and cleared the table, leaving Betty to grill Ginger on her own. Winona was still eating, eager to hear how Ginger would squirm out of this one. She stayed quiet hoping her mom wouldn't notice how much she was enjoying the situation. Not because she wanted Ginger to get into trouble, or because she thought the junkyard was a bad place for a kid to go, but because this was the first time she'd ever seen her mom's favourite daughter get into trouble, and she wanted to give her little sister some moral support.

"I saw an acquaintance of yours, while biking up Sierra Tango," said Ginger, in a clever attempt to deflect her mother's question.

"Oh?" Asked her mother, hooked. Betty assumed her daughter had run into one of her military colleagues. Betty had stayed in touch with most of them during these past few years of perpetual maternity leave, but tomorrow was her first day back at work since she'd gotten pregnant with Winona - any news she could gather might be crucial to a smooth return.

"Remember that guy who crashed my birthday? The one you didn't like?"

Betty bristled. She remembered Christopher Steel's cruelty too well, and hated that Ginger knew him at all. Betty didn't want to think about him. He'd never shown up to another of Dawood's parties, despite their excellent reputation. She'd be happy if she never heard or saw from Chris again.

"Well, I saw him," continued Ginger, "And he's joined the Papazarri."
"The Paparazzi," corrected Winona, forgetting her attempt to stay out of the conversation.

"Tell me about your new job," cut in Betty, wanting to change the subject and therefore doing exactly what Ginger planned. Betty listened to Winona talk about the book store and her new responsibilities and how she promised to keep up her schoolwork, but Betty's mind drifted to Chris Steel's new job. He was well suited to the sleazy profession of tracking down celebrities and catching them in compromising positions - a sleazy profession for a sleazy man.

Ginger meanwhile let her thoughts drift back to her afternoon at the junkyard. She'd expected the place to be empty on a Sunday, but she'd found several people sifting through the piles of scrap. One of them was her mom's boss, Ian Bowler. Another was her mom's best friend Sunny Bakshi. Ginger's secret would be out once her mom got to work the next day, because surely her colleagues would mention seeing Ginger at the yard. On the other hand, Ginger had kept her ears peeled to the conversations going on around her, hoping to pick up details on what secret military projects Bowler and Bakshi planned to develop. If "rocket-propelled llama splines" meant anything, her mom's co-workers may not want to admit that they'd visited the yard either.

"Anything else either of you want to tell me?" asked Betty, including Winona just in case.
"Oh, I do!" cried Winona, putting her hand up.
"Sure, honey," said Betty, thinking her daughter might have picked up some good books.
"Well, I met some people picnicking in the park this afternoon," carried on Winona. "A guy named Dave Ramsey, some girls I don't remember, and another guy I didn't really like, Gage Briody. I really liked Dave, though. He was cool. I really want to go on a date with him."
"You what? Winona you're too young to date."
"No, I'm not, Mom. Jeez. I'm halfway through high school."
"I don't care. Did he say where he was planning on taking you? And who is he, besides some guy you met at the park? What's he do for a living?"
"He doesn't have a job," sighed Winona, knowing how bad that sounded. "And anyway, he hasn't asked me out yet. I just really like the way he looks, and we hit it off."
"Maybe you should spend some time getting to know him better at school. I can't imagine any boy resisting your charms."
"Aw, thanks, Mom. But, uh, he doesn't go to my school. He's more grown up than that. That's why he's so cool, don't you get it?"

Winona's thoughts drifted back to the afternoon picnic while her mom lectured her about sticking to boys her own age, at least until she'd experienced her first kiss. Winona had left out the embarrassing parts of her story, the part when she had first introduced herself to the crowd of people hanging out at the BBQ grills and sat down to join them. She knew she'd crashed their party but she was hungry and they were just giving sandwiches away. She blushed with embarrassment at recalling the moment when looking around, she'd noticed she'd been left eating all by herself as though a leper. What a horrible feeling. She reminded herself that she should be proud of having sucked it up and gone over to meet the new crowd across the way at another picnic setting. If she hadn't she wouldn't have met Dave.

"Kissing is fun," said Betty, mistaking Winona's blush for embarrassment about kissing for the first time. "It's awkward at first, but you learn like anything else. Ginger!"

Ginger had been sneaking around behind Betty to escape before the conversation swung back to her afternoon activities. She froze.

"I know your birthday is tomorrow," warned Betty. "But there will be no kissing boys for at least six years."
"Sure, mom," said Ginger, returning her mom's gaze. Ginger had other things on her mind besides boys. She knew some day that would change, but for now her life was all about inventing.

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[Inigo]

Betty awoke on her last day of work, anxious to get it over with. She'd miscalculated her maternity leave by a day, but at least now she could retire with benefits.

Her anxiety made her hungry. She wandered into the kitchen in the dim hours before sunrise, quiet so the household could sleep, and stopped short halfway across the kitchen. A floating lawn ornament blocked the door of the fridge. "Aw, you're cute," she thought, but couldn't figure out how to get past it. She heard the car horn from outside and gave up trying to get breakfast. On the way to the base she could pick up a doughnut at one of those new truck thingies.

She hopped into the car with a big smile on her face - she embraced the elder years that promised to consume her by the end of the day, and by the time she got home from this first day back at work she'd be ready to call in and retire. What a career!

Ginger heard the door of the car slam outside as her mother left for work. Today she had a birthday, too - she was growing into a teenager. Her childhood years had been good. She'd been left on her own mostly but she'd liked it that way. It left her in peace to keep a watchful eye on everybody. And to watch the science shows she'd like. And to work towards inventing something fantastic, like a time-machine, perhaps, or a teleporter. Doing all the things she loved would be harder as a teen. Certain things were expected of a teenager that she wasn't quite ready to deal with - like active rebellion or dating. She lay awake thinking about how her potential nerd status might stigmatize her for years of torment.

Enough! She threw the covers back and marched downstairs for some leftover waffles. At least that was her intention, but a certain floating wooden meditation statue barred the way.

"Move!" She shouted, waving her arms at it. It didn't. She stomped her feet. Nothing.
"What's going on," asked Allan, suddenly showing up behind her.
"That creepy gnome-thing is in the house again, and it's blocking the fridge," whined Ginger.
"So move it," suggested Allan, creeping closer to get a better look in the dim light.
"I'm not touching it."

"Damn it, I'm hungry," cried Allan, and punted the gnome with his foot. Ginger screamed and Allan expected the thing to go running back to the outside picnic table, but it just lay there, exactly where it had been, only tipped over on its back. And still blocking the fridge. An unseen hand dragged the creature across the floor and safely out of the way.

"Allan, what did you do?" gasped Ginger. "What if it decides to get revenge?"

"Don't tell Dad," was all Allan could think to say, and helped himself to a plate of leftover waffles before he could think too much about what had just happened. Ginger followed his lead and the two of them scarfed down their waffles in silence. They could hear the sound of both showers running above, and knew they wouldn't be alone with the floating, tipped-over gnome for long.

Dawood came down with the baby and fed him in the high chair. Winston, smelling like a rose ("Hey - Did you use my bath gel again?" accused Winona, entering on his heels, but he ignored her), came down behind them and grabbed the last plate of leftover waffles. Dawood would have joined them at the table but the air outside filled with sudden honking and he, Ginger, Winona, and Allan all rushed from the house. Winston moved a little slower, feeling a wave of nausea as a green haze hovered over his half-finished meal. He'd better not be get sick on the school bus - he'd have to live with the embarrassment all the way through to high school graduation!

Callum watched them leave, still strapped in his high seat in the corner of the dining room. "Oh, ****! The sitter..." he heard his dad say just before the door shut. Usually the family paid him more attention, but this day was extra busy with two birthdays, four kids back to school from the weekend, his Dad back to work from vacation, his mom back to work from maternity leave... he enjoyed the momentary quiet. Then he had to use the potty and started to feel nervous.

The babysitter, Aleksey, came in the front door a few minutes later. He let Callum out of the high chair before inspecting the house to see what he needed to tidy. Aleksey Dillon had been babysitting Callum's brothers and sisters since before Ginger was born. Allan pretended not to like him, but Callum could tell Allan was just jealous of not being the centre of Aleksey's attention anymore. Now it was Callum's turn to be tossed in the air until his neck broke. That was fun.

The fun didn't last long. Dawood came home early, exhausted. He paid the babysitter and sank down on the couch with a sigh.

"I got a job offer today, Callum," he told his son, but was really talking to himself. "The hospital needs a new researcher, and they seem to think that my experience at the science lab is what they're looking for. I took the job, of course - it pays double what I make now. But I don't know what they're thinking making me a resident. I didn't even go to medical school! And how am I going to tell your Mom I had to quit my job in the meantime, just when she's planning to retire?"

Callum gurgled from the floor and rocked back and forth on his butt.

"I'd better get busy with her party preparations, eh?" continued Dawood, easing himself off the couch and heading into the kitchen. "And I can't forget the second cake for Ginger! And a gold watch for Betty! And who are my co-workers now?..."

Callum listened to his father's voice trail off. He sucked on his sock. He knew there were hours of neglect in store for him tonight.

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[Inigo]

Inigo said:

So I've indulged in building an entire Wordpress blog devoted to these guys - couldn't help myself after discovering there are tons of them already! Anyhow, it's here:

(etc)

Sorry moderators - I re-read the forum charter in lieu of adding the above link in my signature and was reminded not to link to non-TSR sites, but only after it was too late for me to take out the link in the above post. The text on wordpress is a word-for-word copy of what's here, but my post above should probably be deleted (if that's possible? Or at least the link deleted) in keeping with the rules. I hope the entire thread doesn't have to be shut down!

I trust it's alright to refer to my wordpress version without actually linking to it... (per my revised sig).

Thank you for kindly fixing my mistake :duh:

[Inigo]

Betty's final blow-out turned into a modest yet legendary affair. She reflected on how quickly her life had slipped away behind her, but looking around the room at her five children, her handsome husband, and all of their closest friends she decided that for the most part, she'd been pretty productive and had very few regrets. The party had begun with the glut of confusion expected for a family of seven and their party guests. Betty came home in the middle of it as Dawood was making the rounds of introduction or yelling at the kids to help out and take some of the guests around to the back entrance. She and Dawood had meant to expand the front terrace and add a sheltered portico at some point but the money they saved never seemed to cover the expense. Betty rolled her eyes at the sight of the seven kids and adults rocking politely on the tiny front stoop waiting for each other to step inside. She gestured to Sunny to come off the porch and talk to her at the recycling bin.

"I can't believe you all managed to keep this a secret," laughed Betty, watching the mass of fumbling people break up and disappear inside.
"I can't believe you had no idea," said Sunny, shaking her head and looking around. "But I'm glad, since my job depends on keeping secrets - won't have to quit it now. And glad to see you back at the base after all these years."
"Same here. Although, about that..."
"What, pregnant again?" joked Sunny, slapping Betty on the shoulder.
"No, thank God," snorted Betty, laughing again.
"What then? New career? Registering as a sculptor? You should."
"Well, thanks, really - but no... Well, I guess I could, but that's not what I was going to say. I haven't told anyone except Dawood. Can you keep a secret?"
Sunny simply raised an eyebrow, making Betty snort. Of course she could.
"Right after the party tonight," confided Betty, "the moment I'm eligible, I'm calling in my papers. I'm retiring!"
Sunny's eyes grew wide. She gasped.
"It's true, I am," repeated Betty. "And the sooner I blow out those candles...!"

Betty marched inside to visit with her other guests, leaving a disbelieving Sunny shouting jealous jokes at her, mainly about adult diapers. Sunny's jokes had never been that creative, even at their funniest. Dawood's classical music blared, but Betty was pleased to notice the music didn't dissuade their guests from dancing. In the dining room, Allan had cornered his sister Winona's best friend Shawn Smalley, and was trying his best pick-up lines on her. Betty didn't think Winona would be too happy to hear about Allan's efforts, whether Allan succeeded or not. Imagine if it was the other way around, and Winona were flirting with Ariel Wolfe - Allan would be furious. Betty poked her oldest son as she passed him.

"Cake time, baby," announced Allan, leading the crowd into the kitchen to cheer on his mom.

Betty made the same birthday wish she made every year - that she could take her family home with her to the real world. She'd spoken the wish out loud once, wanting to share her deepest desire, but had been met with blank, confused stares. "Is that another neighbourhood?" Allan had asked. "Are you suggesting we are in a fake world?" Dawood had joked. "But I like it here!" Winona had cried. "You mean the TV show? I want to go! Please!" Ginger had piped in. So Betty had kept the idea of a place without plumbobs all to herself. She felt a bit like the hero of Flatland trying to describe the third dimension to people who were only aware of the second. She avoided the biggest question of all: when her hurried life ended here, would she wake up in the real one with a whole new life ahead of her, or was this it?

Betty shook her head and blew out the candles. The noisemakers accompanied her turning sparkles and when it was over she felt two inches shorter and twenty years older. She called everyone over for a slice.

"My turn," called Ginger from the backyard. Betty looked over at Dawood.
"More space outside," shrugged Dawood in explanation. Betty thought about the phone call she needed to make.

All their guests - invited or not - dropped whatever slice of cake they were eating, some of it right on the floor, and gathered outside to watch Ginger blow out her candles. Betty almost didn't make it outside in time - she'd been up since 6 am, and was barely keeping her eyes open. Betty wasn't the last guest to gather, either - Ariel showed up around the far corner of the house, crashing the party as usual. She had been friends with his father Thorton long ago, a good-looking man with a beautiful house, but Ariel never talked about his dad.

Betty swung her handy noisemaker with the rest of the guests. She wished her little girl the happiest of teenage years, but hoped she would hurry up and get there already before Betty passed out! Ginger's sparkle shower manifested as the last straggler arrived to cheer her on, and Betty was proud to see her favourite daughter had grown into a lovely, albeit slightly chubby, eccentric teen.

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[Inigo]

As the guests crowded the table to replace their other uneaten slices of cake, Betty stepped aside and pulled out her phone. Her hands shook as she dialed the switchboard at the military base. Would anyone answer? The clicking sound of the connection at the far end echoed in Betty's ear. "Base. How can I complete your call?"

"Uh, personnel, please," stammered Betty.

The switchboard patched her through to a recorded voice. Betty sighed - she wouldn't be able to get through to anyone before the next morning. She started to hang up when the recorded voice began listing options: for time off, press 1; to quit, press 2; etc. She tapped her foot in anticipation, half-worried she wouldn't be offered the option she needed. "...to retire, press 9," instructed the mechanical voice. Betty almost fumbled the phone as she aimed for the button, but managed to press the right one.

A burst of clapping came from behind her. Betty turned around to see everyone grinning widely at her, especially Dawood.

"What took you so long," teased Dawood, dropping her a sweet congratulatory kiss.
"Look who's talking, lab man," joked Betty. She noticed his smile fade a touch, and wondered why. What was he hiding?
"Alright, Mom," butted in Allan, waving a yeti placard. "My mom stuck it to the system! Yeah!"
"What are you talking about, Allan?" Betty asked, slightly confused.
"Mom! You worked two days practically your whole life! You spent most of your time at home raising us but still getting paid, you work one more day, and bam! You retire and the military still has to pay you! Mom, you're an inspiration!"
"Eh...," grimaced Betty in an attempt not to gloat, because she was, truth be told, kind of proud of the fact. "But what's the yeti about?"
"I dunno," shrugged Allan, looking around at the other signs. "It's cool, though."

Confetti bits fell from nowhere, like birthday sparkles cut out of bits of paper. Ginger's cake sat mostly uneaten on the small backyard table. Betty's retirement had stomped all over Ginger's birthday celebration. Betty glanced at her daughter, who returned her gaze with a warm smile.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry I stole all the attention from you," Betty apologized.
"I'm not mad or anything, Mom. I'm happy you get to do whatever you want now."
"Like go to a salon?"
"Sure, or..."
"With my daughter?"
Betty watched the gears spin in Ginger's head as she processed her mother's abstract invitation.
"Really?"
"Sure. Just you and me. After school tomorrow - we'll have a birthday outing for two."
"Awww, thanks, Mom!"

Ginger threw her arms around Betty, who staggered under the embrace with exhaustion. The length of Betty's day weighed on her shoulders. She slipped into the house and up the stairs to bed, leaving the rest of the family to clean up the mess. The voices from the party crept into her room through the window, but would subside quickly. Betty drifted off to sleep to the music of her son Winston asking his older brother for romantic advice. Thankfully she missed the part where Allan told his brother Winston that love was overrated, and Winston answered with a promise to have tons of girlfriends, all at the same time.

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[Inigo]

Betty spent the first day of her retirement cleaning up from the night before. The family contributed to tidying the cake pieces around the house by eating them for breakfast. Pretty soon the house emptied and she was left alone with Callum. Betty could spend all day cuddling Callum, he was so adorable.

But Callum wasn't into it for long. He needed a diaper change and had to use the potty. Betty took care of changing his clothes and taking him up to the bathroom. She collected the laundry piles scattered around the house and put away the clean clothes sitting in the dryer. The TV needed repairing, so she spent an hour fixing that, and then the kitchen sink. She scrubbed the kids' dirty bathtub, wondering if they had ever cleaned it.

A phone call from Winston interrupted her work.

"Mom, I need to go to Jessie Small's house after school," he demanded.
"Is that Shawn's little brother?"
"I guess..."
"I'm just glad you've made a friend at school, honey"
"Ya, well, the guidance counsellor said I had to."
"It might be good advice. Friends are important. I thought you liked Jessie?"
"I do. So, ya, it's okay."
"Have fun after school, then..."
"Thanks, mom."

Betty put Callum down for a nap and was on her way to the pottery shed to finish up her stone lion, when she heard the front door open.

"Hello?" she called from the second floor, thinking someone was breaking in.
"Hey, Mom," Allan called back.
"What are you doing home this early?" asked Betty, running downstairs and hoping she wasn't headed for an argument.
"What early?" replied Allan, brushing off her concern and heading to his easel. "School's over, Mom."
"It's what?" Betty looked at her watch. She was supposed to meet Ginger at the Salon ten minutes ago!
"Look after your brother," cried Betty, grabbing her house keys and calling a cab. "I have to go to the Salon!"
"Nothing ever changes," sighed Allan with a hint of disgust, and slapped another coat of red on his car painting.

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[Inigo]

Betty couldn't find Ginger at the salon. They had planned to meet outside but Ginger was not hanging out on the park benches or in the waiting room. She tried calling Ginger but didn't get an answer. A woman with a badge wandered through the reception area and Betty grabbed her attention.

"I was supposed to meet my daughter here," Betty began.
"What's her name?" asked the woman with obvious disinterest. "What does she look like?"
"Ginger. I mean, her name is Ginger, but she's dark - dark hair, dark skin. Sort of. Her father's Egyptian, so it's not really that dark. It's just darker than mine. She's wearing pigtails..."
"I haven't seen her," interrupted the woman in a whiny tone. She held her hand up to Betty and took out her phone.
"Darling," the woman continued into the phone, "Is there a teenager back there with you? Hmmm-hmmmm? I see... no, me either - I hate when they do that. No? Surprising... Tonight? I love his parties. Later.
"It seems," continued the woman down her nose at Betty, "that your daughter has wandered into the back of the salon and given one of our clients a makeover."
"Oh, no! I'm so sorry..."
"Apparently he's happy with it," sighed the woman, clearly not happy herself. "You can find her back there."

Betty poked her head through a beaded door, and came face to face with a second unhappy stylist. He wouldn't speak to her, only pointed her through another door leading into the back. She kept going and after passing a young man wearing shades, ripped jeans, and a contented smile, found her daughter at the back of the salon.

"What are you doing offering make-overs to the salon's clients," asked Betty, flabbergasted.
"I didn't think he'd say yes," shrugged Ginger. "Anyway, he seemed happy. I can do you if you'd like..."
"I'm sure I would love that, sweetie, but I think I'll stick to styling myself."
"Can I do myself, too?"
"Sure," promised Betty, not thinking it through like she probably should have.

A couple of hours later Betty and her daughter Ginger stepped out of their makeover sessions like two newly minted women. Ginger had taken her new eccentric trait to heart, and Betty had done her best to maintain the style she'd always worn.

"Ginger, you've died your hair red," marvelled Betty. "It's gorgeous - I love it!"
"Thanks, Mom. You know, name sake... I thought you were getting made over at the same time I was."
"I did, can't you tell?"
"I guess," muttered Ginger, eyeing her mom up and down. "Maybe you're a little sharper. But. Aw, Mom I can't tell, sorry!"
"It's ok, sweetie, it's what I wanted. I like the way I look."
"Ok, mom, uh, whatever you say..."
"I say, let's eat! Have you been to the Bistro yet?"
"Mom, you and Dad have never taken any of us out to eat!"
"I know, sweetie - we can't afford to. But I got a discount card this week!"

Betty and Ginger ate dinner on the patio at the Sunset Valley Bistro. They had the place to themselves, and chatted through dinner. After their plates were cleared Betty took out her favourite mystery novel and started reading at the table. Through the words on the page she heard her daughter harumph and pull out a book of her own - some non-fiction tome about logic. After dinner they headed over to the public pool across the way to show off their new swimsuits.

Betty knew her daughter was a beginner swimmer, but challenged her to a breath-holding contest, knowing she would lose. While they sat on the pool bottom making faces at each other, other pool guests switched into their suits and jumped in. One of them was Christopher Steel, who had been snapping photos of a poor young teen trying to eat her picnic dinner. Betty couldn't figure out what Ginger was trying to tell her with her silent exaggerated motions, until the girl suddenly shot up to the surface. Betty followed Ginger's motion with her eyes and that's when she saw Chris Steel sloshing around above. Betty kept holding her breath on the bottom, hanging on until it was safe to leave the pool. Her lips were turning blue by the time she emerged from the depths, but she was able to keep her gasps for air quiet at the surface. Betty couldn't tell whether Chris had seen her in the water, but she watched closely when he left the pool area.

"You okay, Mom?" asked Ginger.
"Sure, sweetie," assured Betty. "But I think I'm ready to go home."

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[Inigo]

Betty's relief at the departure of Christopher Steel was short-lived. A few days later he began actively stalking several members of Betty's family: Allan, Dawood, and Betty herself.

Betty remained unaware for now, however, instead devoting herself to perfecting her sculpting skills. She had a dream to build a giant bust of Dawood, a stunning masterpiece to leave their progeny in years to come. She knew Allan was developing his painting skills in an effort to contribute to a family gallery, but so far he'd only painted a childish red car and an extremely amateur sunset. Maybe Callum would follow in Betty's footsteps and develop a flare for craftsmanship. Alas, when Callum did sprout from toddlerhood to childhood, the only new talent he showed was an impulse to steal.

Betty's family had hoped she'd devote more time to learning how to cook now that she was home and Dawood was away at work so much, especially after the morning when they were all forced to eat horrible helpings of unintentionally blackened waffles. "We've got our own garden, and she couldn't even put fruit in them," complained Callum to his brother Winston.

Betty caught Dawood's arm on his way out the door. She felt the fabric of his new lab coat between her fingers.

"This new?" she asked. There was definitely something he wasn't telling her.

Behind Dawood the school bus pulled away, leaving all the boys behind. Betty sent them on their way on their bicycles, except Allan who was stuck hailing a cab. Betty shuddered at the waste.

Betty spent the day in her pottery studio finishing her lion and mastering her sculpting skill. Her mastery did not go unnoticed. In the mail that day she received a lovely parcel containing an achievement in sculpting certificate. She hung it in the pottery studio and let it inspire her to perfect the last chiselled curves on the lion. She noticed an elderly man hanging about around her back door and thought she should investigate.

The old man wasn't just anyone - he was local celebrity Nick Alto. At first he wasn't interested in why Betty wanted to know why he was hanging around in her yard, but then she began to talk about her new sculpting recognition. Nick found Betty's work very impressive. "I'm going to speak to a few people I know around town," he promised, launching Betty's own local celebrity status.

Winston invited Jessie Smalley home with him after school. Betty was thrilled he had made a friend at school - she had been worried that his poor temperament might limit his social skills. Winston had confided, the day he had invited himself to Jessie's house for the first time, that he had insulted Jessie a few times, and almost ruined their friendship. "But I apologized, and it was okay," Winston had added, reflecting on the new socialization he'd learned. Betty knew that would come in handy for him in the future. Today the boys had become good friends, and Callum joined them in a game of tag out back. So did Ginger.

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[Inigo]

Dawood collapsed on the couch as soon as he got home. Betty had watched his exhaustion increase the last few days - ever since he had started going to work at the lab with his new white uniform. And what did he need a stethoscope for at the lab? Were they experimenting on live people now? She flopped down beside him and rested a hand on his lap.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Dawood?" she asked.
"Well... ya...," he started, and let out a big sigh. He'd been avoiding this moment for days. "I was offered a new position. For much higher pay."
"But that's great! You were ready for a promotion. Why try to hide it?"
"Aw, Betty - it's not at the lab. I had to quit my job there."
"Ooooooh. I see. You're not working at the warehouse, are you?" That would have terrified her. Nothing could be worse.
"I got a research position at the hospital."
"That's fantastic!"
"It would be if I were researching - but they've got me working as a resident!"
"But you're not a doctor!"
"I know! I'm totally unqualified. Promise me if any of the kids get sick you'll just treat them at home..."
"Sure..." muttered Betty, but crossed her fingers behind her back. "But what are you going to do about work? Can you handle it?"
"I don't know... some days I get better, some days I get worse. Most of the time I lounge around in the waiting room watching TV - the chief of staff looks the other way. He knows the challenges I face, I guess. Today was good, though. I biked up to the cemetery to vaccinate people."
"The cemetery?"
"The cemetery...," Dawood wrinkled his face as if this was the first time the oddity of the location had occurred to him. Then he thought about another odd moment. "You know, there was an Egyptian tourist that showed up in the crowd..."
"Did you know him?"
"No. But there was something wrong with him... his skin glowed with a pale green tone. And his eyes were red. Bloodshot, kind of. I've never seen anything like it."
"That's weird, baby. I hope you didn't pick anything up from him."
"I don't think so. It could be why he was there for a shot, maybe. But..."
"What...?"
"One of my co-workers, Victoria Andrews, has the same symptoms."
"Has she been to Egypt recently?"
"Not that I know of. But she only takes the night shifts, and spends a lot of time alone with dying patients - the rich ones who have their own rooms. I don't like her. And did you notice Ian Bowler at your birthday party last week? His skin... I'm thinking I need to do a little research about this affliction. What if it's a new and dangerous disease?"
"Baby, I was hoping you were going to say you're thinking of retiring..."
"Maybe soon. But I think I will go on vacation again."
"Not to Egypt...?"
"No," Dawood chuckled. "Allan told me he's been given an interview assignment in France."
"Me, too," added Ginger as she ran through the room with Callum chasing behind her. They disappeared out the front door.
"I guess I'm going to France," smiled Dawood. "Wanna come?"
"Maybe next time. I think it will be good for you to bond with your kids. You and Winona had such a great time together."

Betty noticed Dawood's smile flicker. He bit his lip but didn't explain a thing despite Betty's scowl.

"Hey, did Ginger dye her hair?" asked Dawood, as if noticing for the first time.

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[spladoum]

Awww, poor Callum's still having such a hard time. :(

[Inigo]

Winona felt the burdens of peer pressure pushing her to date as soon as possible. She couldn't get Dave Ramsey out of her mind. The fact that her mother had raised an eyebrow at his age and pointed out his lack of employment only made her want to be with him more. If he wasn't going to ask her out she was going to have to take the first step. She could almost feel the prickling of his bushy sideburns against her skin. She giggled at the imaginary tickle.

After school her brother Allan's friend Ariel tried to invite himself home with her. She hadn't thought he'd ever noticed her when hanging out at their house, but today in class he'd passed her a note with a heart on it. He'd drawn a real heart, with ventricles and veins and a few happy smiling drops of blood, and that seemed odd to Winona, despite warming to the attention. She found herself taking a second look at her brother's tall blonde friend and thinking she kind of liked what she saw. But today she had to go work at the book store, and turned him down. All she had time for was a quick chat with Dave to warm him up for later, and maybe a moment to call the man she'd met in France, Laurent.

Winona had to look up Dave's number, and for a moment worried that he wouldn't remember who she was. She grew nervous, but didn't lose her determination to dial him up.

"Yo - Wazzup?" came a deep, mature voice from the other end of the line.
"Is this Dave?"
"Yup..."
"Dave Ramsey?"
"Yup, still me. What's shakin' little sister?"
"Um, we met in the park the other day...?"
"Oh - Michelle! How's it goin'! I wondered when..."
"It's not Michelle..."
"Trudy? Oh, boy - sorry. For a sec I thought you sounded like this girl I bought..."
"Um...I'm not Trudy, either."
"So... who's it?"
Winona's heart pounded in her throat, drowning out her own thoughts. She could hear the patience draining from Dave's voice. She almost dropped the phone her hands were so sweaty.
"I'm Winona? We met last week? At the picnic..."
"Last week... gimme a sec... NYC on the weekend, because Jem found tickets in the garbage, after a bet from Wednesday's poker game, needed cash 'cause it was his birthday... so we met his sister in the park on Tuesday...had a picnic...met some new cats... wait a sec! You must be loverly young Winona with the jet black hair."
"Ya, that's me," Winona blushed, glad he couldn't see her face.
"Right on! Wazzup, Winona with the jet black hair?"
"Um, nothing really. I just thought I'd call..."
"Aw, that's lovely. Well, look sweetie, I gotta run at the mo'. I've got a thing... but maybe catchya later?"
"Ya! Sure!" answered Winona, trying to squash the squeal in her happy voice. She shut the phone and wallowed in the sensation of her heart growing ten sizes bigger. She would catch him later, she thought to herself. She would catch him in her arms and feel his goofy sideburns all over her.

Winona checked her watch. She had a few minutes still before work. Did she dare call Laurent? She decided against it. Instead, she sailed on the exhilarated wake of her chat with Dave. At work, the heavy non-fiction hardcovers in her section flew onto the shelves by themselves. Her boss had to stop her from whistling happy tunes. Twice! And yet somehow, the clock moved at half speed. Hurry up! she yelled at the clock. Winona! yelled her boss.

The second her shift ended Winona was out the door, speed dial burning up the phone, heart burning up her soul. Would this be the night of her first kiss? Would Dave, being a man, want more? Was she ready to give it? Winona pushed those thoughts out of her head - they threatened to derail her confidence. First things first: where could she suggest they go? She was the one asking him out, after all.

"Yo - Wazzup?" answered Dave's deep voice.
"Dave?"
"Yup..."
"It's Winona!"
"Who?"
Winona's heart jumped a beat.
"Winona! From the park? We talked earlier... "
"I wasn't at the park today."
"I know! I called you earlier, on the phone. You said catch you later?"
Winona's heart had already deflated back to its original size, and promised to deflate altogether. Could he really have forgotten her so quickly?
"Oh... I remember. Sweet young thang. Listen, little sister - I didn't mean literally... I meant, well, I meant see you around. You know... sometime. I, uh, I'm a little busy right now."
"So maybe some time, I can call you?"
She heard him turn away from the phone and swear under his breath. In the background a woman's voice asked him who he was talking to. The last ounce of air escaped her heart and left a painful vacuum.
"Um, nevermind," Winona mumbled and shut the phone.

Winona fought back her tears. Dave Ramsey - he was old and unemployed and why did she care so much? She needed a pick-me-up fast, something good. Where was the winery in Sunset Valley? She remembered she'd planned to call Laurent, her wine-drinking buddy. Would he forget her as well? She wasn't ready for another terrible let down. Whatever, she thought. What's another disappointment after the last one?

Laurent knew who she was right away, and sounded thrilled to hear from her so soon.

"I'm sorry I didn't learn enough to speak French with you," apologized Winona, raising her voice more than she needed.
"Cherie, zat's no problem. I em happy to hear your voice. And I em happy to hear you speak wizout ze slurring," laughed Laurent.
"Oh, was I that bad?"
Winona cringed. Why was it so hard to make a good impression on a man?
"I em teasing, Winona... I waz es drunk es you were. But zat is ze nature of nectar, no?"
"I guess. That's the only time I've had it."
"No! Merde, what deprivassion! When er you coming back to France? We will drink togezer again! You can stay here at my place, maybe?"
"Oh, yes!" Winona squealed. "I want to! As soon as I can!"
"Zat's great, cherie. Zer will be a warm bed waiting for you."

Winona said good night and ran all the way home. She could hardly keep quiet about Laurent while helping Allan with his homework.

"France, France, it's good for your pants," teased Allan.
"What does that even mean?" asked Winona, a little grossed out by it.
"I dunno," shrugged Allan. "It rhymes."
"Keep your day job, bro," she teased.

Allan, although a promising kid in so many ways, always took forever to finish his homework. Or any other intellectually challenging activity. Winona and her mom took turns tutoring him in the evening. Their hard work kept him on the honour roll, and when Allan mentioned his mom's help at school, her celebrity status rubbed off on him. Winona also made the honour roll, but when she dropped her mom's name at school no one seemed to care.

"Dad's taking Ginger and me to France," bragged Allan after working through the last chapter of Chlorofluorocarbons and You.
"Oh my god oh my god I have to go with you!" gushed Winona.
"You have to ask Dad," Allan shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "He's paying for it."

That night she dreamt of sweet rivers of nectar and warm afternoons of cinammon coffee and crêpes. She ignored the question of travel itself. She would get to France, somehow. Nothing could distract her.

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[Inigo]

At school the next afternoon, Ariel Wolff cornered her against the rusty coke machine. He stared down at her, so close she could smell his lingering teenage after-shave and feel the warmth of his arms on either side of her. She looked up at him, daring him to speak. He didn't, simply drank her in, his chest moving in and out mere inches from her own. She glanced up and down the hallway, nervous that Allan might walk by. But there was no one in the hallway then. No one at all.

"What do you want, Ariel?" she stammered, wondering why she had heated up so suddenly. She tried to duck under his arm and escape.
"Don't," whispered Ariel, dropping his arm so that she ran into it instead. She leaned back into the machine, glad for it's cool touch against her back. Her hand stayed where it had landed on Ariel's surprisingly strong forearm. Her hand trembled.
"You can't go until you promise to come home with me after school today," he continued in his soft voice.
"Ariel..."
"Promise," he urged. His blonde hair fell forward against her face as he leaned in. His hair was soft, like blonde fleece. Winona was certain that if he moved any closer he would be able to hear how fast her heart was beating. Already he was only three inches from a kiss. She had to get out of this!
"Ok. Whatever...," she said, thinking it would be a fair promise to break, given the coercion. "As long as Allan doesn't find out."
"I don't plan to tell him," giggled Allan, releasing her from her temporary prison. "See you after school, Winona."

Winona didn't plan to go home with Ariel Wolff after school, but somehow she ended up at his house anyway. They were home alone together, after the prerequisite after-school chat Winona found herself flirting with him despite all her intentions to keep things platonic. Ariel was a Leo, a perfect match to her Gemini self. She joked about his after shave. He said he could tell she liked it whatever she said. He was right.

Her thoughts of what his curvy lips might taste like were interrupted by her cell ringing.

"Just ignore it," Ariel urged.
"I can't, it's my mom."
Was her mom psychic? Winona rolled her eyes and grabbed the phone from her bag.
"Hey, mom... not a good time," she warned, hoping her mother would end the call quickly.
"Sorry, honey - was hoping you could pick up a book for me at work today. It's Winston's birthday and I forgot to get him anything. Now I'm too busy getting things ready for his party... You are planning on showing up, aren't you?"
Her mother's voice carried that threatening tone that accompanied any serious family obligation.
"Yes, Mom, of course!" Winona assured her mom, hiding a different panic. Work! She had forgotten about work!
"I'll see you at home later, Mom, and I'll pick up something cool and weird for Winston," she promised and hung up. "Ariel, I gotta run! I've got work in, like, ten minutes. I totally forgot!"

Winona knew Ariel's gaze followed her all the way to the last crest of hill from his house. She hated how self-conscious it made her feel about her legs pumping away at the pedals of her bike, or how tiny the bicycle seat was and how big it must make her look from behind. She thought about how sad Ariel's big puppy-dog eyes looked when she said she had to go.

"I'll just show up at the party later," he'd said as she was putting on her backpack.
"Please don't," Winona has asked. Everyone would know something was going on between them. Especially Allan, who was her best friend as well as her brother - she couldn't hide anything from him. And he was going to hate that Ariel had been hitting on her. And hate it even more that she liked it.
"It's not like I haven't dropped by every other family party, Winona," Ariel reminded her.
"Please, Ariel. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"
"You'll come over tomorrow after school again?" His tone gave away his doubt and undermined his usual air of confidence.
"Sure, whatever," Winona had replied as she cycled away, not sure if she meant what she said or not.

By the time she got home for Winston's party, he had already grown up. She noted that no one else in the family had made it home yet. Winston lost his temper about how no one ever remembered his birthday and when he finally had a proper birthday party no one bothered to show up. Winona calmed him with an apology, even though there was nothing she could have done to be here earlier - except skip work, which she wasn't willing to do. Winston went on and on about how he had to blow out the candles surrounded by immature little kids.

"All they want to do is play tag outside," complained Winston.
"What's wrong with that?" asked Winona, who liked a good game of tag as much as the next person.
"I hate being outside!" declared Winston, and took off upstairs to watch TV with Jessie's slightly famous sister who had shown up to escort her baby brother to the party.
"Oh, that's new," observed Betty, watching him go. "Hard to believe only five minutes ago he was one of those little kids."
"I know, mom. They grow up so fast."
"Oh, honey - you have no idea!"

Ginger burst in on the tail end of a successful outing to the science lab with her new best friend Dianne Duvall. The two of them giggled together as if they were the only people in the universe. They stopped giggling only long enough to eat some cake.

"You missed your brother's birthday," Betty interrupted them. Ginger stopped chewing as if she just realized why she had the opportunity to be eating cake in the first place. Guilt spread across her face.

Ginger's shame got a reprieve when Dawood came in exhausted after another long, long day at work. Allan followed behind him, and Winona could see Allan's relief that he'd avoided the spotlight, which for now moved from Ginger to her Dad.

"You missed your own son's birthday!" cried Betty. "What is wrong with this family?"
"I got here as soon as I could," sighed Winona's dad. "You know that."
"Geez, mom," said Winston, coming back down to get himself another piece of his cake. "Don't have a hairy. It's not like anything's different from normal."
"I want you to feel loved, sweetie."
"Believe it or not, I do," cringed Winston, trying to brush off his mom's excessive gooeyness. "At least you all talk to me, unlike Jessie's sister who thinks she's too good for me. So thanks for the new book. And the clothes, Dad."

Winona watched Betty melt on learning her husband hadn't forgotten their son's birthday present like she had. Winona's parents made up. They rarely argued, and Winona knew she'd be lucky to find someone as perfect for her as her parents were for each other. Maybe someone French... She hunted for the perfect opportunity to ask her dad about going along on his next voyage. Waited until he'd congratulated Winston on his birthday, and had some of Winston's chocolate cake.

"Hey, Dad - Winona has a question for you," butted in Allan, ruining Winona's strategic strike.
Winona's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth under her father's expectant gaze.
"What is it?" he coaxed.
"Papa, I know you're taking Ginger and Allan to France..." She paused.
"...and?..."
"And I really want to go," she spilled.
"But you just got back," said Dawood.
"I know. I want to go again. Please?"
(France, France, it's good for your pants, chanted her brain.)
"I don't know, Winona," muttered her dad. "I have to see how much extra it would cost. Besides, your brother and sister have never been. I think I'd like to spend the same kind of time with them as I spent with you. Uh, sort of."
"Ya, Sis - it's our turn!" piped in Allan.
"So...?" challenged Winona.
"So... you went last time."
"So... I want to go again.!"
"So... you can't!" Allan fumed.
"So... if I don't go, I'll go on another date with Ariel instead and I'll make out with him this time!"
The room went dead quiet. All eyes were on Winona and Allan.
"Another date?" Allan asked, not sure he'd caught that right.
Winona gulped.
"Look, Sis," continued Allan, suddenly earnest. "I'm not going to tell you who to date. Or who to threaten to make out with. But Ariel, he's... it's a bad idea. That's all I'm gonna say. It's your call, but I wouldn't recommend it. And it's not just 'cause you're my sister."

It wasn't the reaction Winona expected. She thought Allan would be more focused on her invading his circle of friends. He and Ariel hadn't hung out together lately, so maybe she'd been worried for nothing. Allan seemed far more protective of her than anything else. Maybe there was a good reason he and Ariel didn't hang out anymore. But Ariel was so... hot.

"Oh, would you look at the time," announced Dawood, breaking the tension. "Ginger, Allan, get your baggage. The airport taxi will be here any moment."
"That was fast," observed Ginger.
"That's the way it goes," said Dawood.
"But...," tried Winona, one more time.
"That's the way it goes," said Dawood, shaking his head.

Winona would not be denied. While Dawood waited in the front hall for Allan and Ginger, Winona raced out the back door. She ran around the house and climbed into the trunk of the cab. The driver came around and told her to get out.

"It's a joke," she lied, handing him a wad of cash. "Do you have a blanket?"

The cab driver wasn't a guy to argue with a fare. And that was how Winona got to France to meet the father of her first born child.

[Inigo]

The first thing Winona did on landing in Champs Les Sims was pull out her cell phone and call Laurent. She needed something positive to help shake off the lecture she'd received on the flight over about her giant taxi indiscretion. "And absolutely NO wine tours without adult supervision," her dad had commanded as the plane landed.
"Winona! Quel surprise!" Laurent laughed on hearing her voice. "I em very happy you er here in France!"
"Me, too! I can't wait to see you!" Winona gushed. "How about right now? I can come to your house! Where do you live?"
"I hev anozer suggesstion," Laurent replied after a short and worrisome pause. "Perhaps ze Nectary? It was fun ze last time, no?"
"Uh, sure. Sure! I'll meet you there at 11," agreed Winona, only a trace of guilt in her heart about defying her father.

Winona burst into songs of joy. Ginger laughed at her sister's pure expression of happiness. Her dad cut short Winona's singing so that he could lecture them all about the dangers of Champs les Sims before he let them explore on their own. He singled Winona out as an example of what happens when drinking too much. Allan laughed at her, but Dawood also complimented Winona on her bravery under pressure the last time out, and let her brother and sister know she'd experienced dangers they had never dreamed of.

"Oh, like the ones in your stories," snorted Allan.
"Yes, like the ones in my stories," defended Dawood.
"Dad, there's no such thing as walking mummies or hidden tomb traps!"
"Actually...," interrupted Winona. Allan's jaw dropped.
"No way...," was all he could say. He looked at his dad with renewed respect.

"Alright, now meantime," Dawood continued his lecture. "I've checked us into the guest house. There seem to be a lot of people visiting - more than usual - so it might be crowded, and I'm sorry about that. It's a good opportunity to meet people from other parts of the world, though, including Egypt - I'd like to take you there one day, too.
"But while we're here, I want you kids to stick together. There's a grand museum up on the hill, and an excellent cafe in the village square. Winona can show you both around. Ginger you might like to browse through the book store in town. And Allan you might be interested in renting a scooter and riding around the countryside."
"Where are you going to be, dad?" asked Ginger.
"I'm hoping to pick up a new assignment, Ginge. I'm only a few points away from a level 3 visa, which I know I can reach on this trip - and then I can buy you guys a vacation home for your inheritance."
"Oh my God Papa really?" cried Winona. That would be the best! She could move here and she and Laurent would fall in love and she could spend the rest of her life in France and perfect happiness.
"Well, I'm hoping, Win, yes."

Winona watched her dad perusing the guest house bulletin board, waiting for the moment she could slip away to the Winery unnoticed. The second her dad hopped on his rental and took off down the street to some unknown mystery destination, she grabbed her own rental and kicked it into gear. Ginger looked lost. "Aren't you coming to the square with us?" she asked, perplexed. Winona just waved and told her she'd see them both later. She yanked the throttle and sped off to the winery and Laurent.

Winona patted down her windblown hair before entering the familiar oak doors. She wanted to look her best for her French flame. He grinned when he saw her, kissed her cheeks like a local. Winona noticed he had a few lines in his face, something he'd not had the last time they'd met. She'd remembered giggling and drinking with a handsome young man, but this Laurent had become a dashing mature adult. She glowed with teenaged lust.

But Laurent would not flirt with her.

He wouldn't even give her the opportunity.
"You don't like me," she pouted.
"Zat is not true, Cherie," he promised. "I like you very much. You er kind, you love your family..."
"You think I'm too young," she suggested when he tripped over the last part.
"Have you tried ze Averlino-Sherimola blend, yet," he asked, abruptly changing the subject. "It tastes like sherries and shocolate."

Laurent raised his voice slightly, so he could be heard by the others that milled about the winery. He obviously didn't want to flirt in public, thought Winona. She hadn't taken him to be the shy sort, but reminded herself that she didn't really know him that well. She must make an effort to see him in private, she thought.

Over Laurent's shoulder Winona caught sight of Allan and Ginger. So she wasn't the only delinquent in the family! She waved them over, glad for the distraction from Laurent's cold shoulder. They grabbed themselves each a glass of Averlino and sat down at the table. All three of them burst out laughing that here they were at the one place their father had strictly forbidden to go. They didn't even have to say it out loud - one look around at each guilty face sent them into fits.

"My wine went up my nose!" screamed Ginger. They all laughed harder. A bald boy at the far end of the room snorted with derision.

"It figures that's the only other kid our age in the village," observed Allan, insulted.
"What do you mean?" Winona took offence, even if she agreed with Allan about the rude boy - she liked everyone she had met here so far.
"Well, everyone here's kind of... snobbish," complained Allan.
"Not if you make an effort," explained Winona. "But you have to make an effort. Try to speak a little French, ask about customs, you know. Get to know them. Anyway - how's your day been so far? How did you end up at the winery?"
Allan paused, and caught Ginger's eye. They burst out laughing, but Winona wasn't in on the joke this time.
"Well, we did go to the square like we'd planned," giggled Ginger once she'd caught her breath.
"Ya, we did," continued Allan. "We thought we should look for the woman we're supposed to interview."
"So we asked around, until some guy at the antiques shop told Allan we could find her at the Nectary vineyard."
"What could we do?" Allan shrugged. "Ginger and I decided that dad would want us to work on our assignment."
"For sure," nodded Ginger. She wiped a dribble of red juice off her chin.
"Besides, Ginger was dying to get on one of those scooter things..."
"Oh, the Kemsas - I love those!" agreed Winona. Ginger grinned and made sputtering engine sounds.
"So we rented a pair and drove up here and interviewed the local. She was kind of hot, actually..."
"Really...," said Winona in mock surprise.
"And then, well, I don't know where Ginger went but I figured as long as I was here..."

Allan raised his glass and smiled. Winona and Ginger raised theirs as well and they all toasted to their collective independence. Ginger filled her siblings in on her absence - she had gone outside, seen the grape vines, and decided to try making her own bottle. "Oh, my God," Winona giggled and put her head in her hands.

"Come on, it's not that weird," said Ginger. Winona and Allan just stared at her, unconvinced.
"Look," explained Ginger. "There's directions on the machines, there are books about making wine everywhere, the guy in the shop will answer questions..."
"How'd it turn out?" asked Allan, challenging her.
"Um, awful," admitted Ginger, biting her lip. They all laughed. "But the next batch will be better..."
Winona and Allan groaned. Ginger was weird.

A flash bulb blinded them. Winona winced and squinted at the French woman taking their picture. "I though the tourists were supposed to be the ones with the cameras," she complained. Allan said he'd had a few photographers following him around that day. It surprised him, but his minuscule fame must have followed him to France.

"At least it's not Christopher Steel," sighed Winona.
"Ya. That guy's such a stalker," agreed Ginger.
"By the way," added Allan, suddenly blanching and covering his mouth. A few others in the room, including Laurent, were similarly overcome. "Don't drink anything labelled Plasma."

Allan ran to the bathroom and when he was finished being sick they all hopped on their scooters and rode back to the guest house.

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[Inigo]

The overcrowded capacity at the guesthouse took its toll on the tourists. The kitchen faucet had busted a gasket, sending fountains of water shooting to the ceiling and covering the kitchen floor with huge puddles. The toilet in the downstairs bathroom clogged up and overflowed, followed by the one in the upstairs rear bathroom. But that wasn't the worst of it. An Egyptian couple had taken over the upstairs room that Dawood had requested for Winona, forcing her to make due with sleeping in one of the cots in the shared single men's room. "I thought you wanted to sleep with strange men," Allan had teased. "That's not funny!" Winona had hissed back, massaging the sore muscles she now had from sleeping on a cheap cot. Winona wasn't the only one getting a terrible night's sleep either - the French Paparazzi kept interrupting Dawood at night by storming into his room to take notes and photos in the wee hours. The kids worried about Dawood's bad mood. "Does he know we were drinking?" whispered Ginger. "I don't think so, Ginge," Winona had assured her. "Something else is up."

"I've got bad news for you guys," Dawood confided one morning.
"We have to go back home?" interrupted Allan. "That's not bad news - it's good news. I've seen everything I want to see. When are we leaving?"
Winona scowled at him.
"No, we're not going home," sighed Dawood. "But we're not getting a vacation house, either."
Winona, Allan and Ginger erupted in a chorus of disappointment and disbelief. Dawood held up his hand.
"Sorry I've been so preoccupied lately," continued Winona's father. "I've been spending all my time at the local administrators trying to find out what's wrong with my Visa... our Visas. I became suspicious when none of my contacts responded to my inquiries - it's always instant, but not this trip. So I went in to see if some kind of issue had crept up from the last time we were here, and they didn't even have us registered."
"But doesn't mean we have to go home?" suggested Allan, hopefully.
"No," Dawood cut him down. "What it means is, apparently, that my file has been corrupted."
"How?" Ginger gasped.
"Oh, who knows. Someone stole it, maybe, or misplaced part of it. It doesn't matter, except that I won't be able to reach that magical third-level visa and get you all out of this horrible crowded guest house. Or find more riches."
"But then how long can we stay?" asked Winona.
"Well, Win, there's no record of how many days we've been her or how many we have left. In effect, we could stay indefinitely."
"Yeah!" screamed Winona. Ginger plugged her ears.
"Boooo!" shouted Allan. Ginger winced.
"But I'd miss your mom too much. So let's stay for a few more days. I'm planning on pillaging all the tombs I know for whatever I can get, and never coming back."
"What?" asked Winona, shocked. She had never heard this kind of spite in her dad's voice.
"Winona, you've got your whole life ahead of you. All of you do. But I'm at the end of mine. And I've had one goal - to fully explore the tombs of every accessible locations in the world. And it's not going to happen. I'm having to wrestle with knowing I will never achieve that now. Never."

The weight of Dawood's despair threatened to choke all of them. Winona waved her brother and sister out of the room with her, and talked them into taking an outing with her up to the big museum Dawood had mentioned. Allan scoffed at the thought of looking at art, but agreed with Winona that they should let their dad spend the day in his man tomb, or whatever he called it. Ginger delighted in the opportunity to ride Kemsas through the countryside again, and dreamed about getting one for home. Winona wondered whether or not their mom would think it was environmentally-friendly or not. Allan said he liked riding the Kemsa, but he still really wanted a car.

At the museum Ginger disappeared into a cozy back visitor's room with a grand book case full of French history. She found a book on the origins of wine, and plunked herself down on the comfy french sofa to read. Allan discovered there was a Chinese exhibit upstairs and took off to see what it was about. "Anything that's not about France," he snorted. Winona thought about slipping off to Laurent's house, but given they had a few days and her dad's horrible state of mind, she decided not to play with fire, at least that afternoon. Instead she looked around the main gallery and decided she would introduce herself to as many tourists and locals as possible, hoping some of them might know more kids their age.

In the Egyptian gallery, Winona almost tripped on an exhibit that had slipped to the floor. "Oh, God," she gulped when reaching to pick it up and realizing what it was. "It's like that creepy floating gnome-thing that papa brought back from China!" It resisted her tugs, stuck to the carpet somehow. She stood back and wiped her hands off on her skirt. She stood motionless for a long time, hoping to see it move. Sounds of grunting and jumping leaking through the ceiling above interrupted Winona's focus.

"What the..." she thought, and looked around for the nearest set of stairs. She found the source of the noise one floor up - Allan had found a practice dummy like Dad's Chinese souvenir. He kicked and wrestled the wooden contraption, wearing an outfit she'd not seen on him before.

"Look, Winona! I earned my first belt!" Allan showed off his smart new outfit. "And I know what I want to do with my life!"
"Ya?"
"I'm going to combine both martial arts and regular exercise, and I'm going to achieve physical perfection!"

Winona noticed another set of displays on the other side of Allan's practice dummy. One of them held an identical twin to the family's creepy floating Gnome. She started to say something, pointed at the thing in surprise, but Allan spoke first. "I know," he said, snorting. "There was a French one, too - dress like Napoleon. Guess where it is now?" "You didn't!" cried Winona, and punched Allan in the shoulder. "Hey! Watch my new outfit!" He smoothed down the jacket before grinning. "Ya, I did. It's in my pack!"

Allan's excitement about his new-found sport rubbed off on Winona. He looked really good in his kung fu uniform. Winona began to think about her own goals. She had not come across anything that excited her the way Allan embraced his new dream. Maybe there was something to this martial arts thing...

Thoughts of Winona's short-term goals super-ceded her lifetime goals by the following morning. She had woken early due to the commotions in the shared single men's room, and had showered and eaten breakfast before the others were even awake. She decided there was only one goal that deserved pursuing this morning - and that was confronting Laurent.

Winona left a note for the rest of the family, something about heading to the square to take care of some "women's troubles" she was experiencing. That would keep them from talking about her for at least a little while. She looked through the local phone book and found Laurent's address up on the hill.

Winona shook as she entered his yard through the creaking wooden gate. She turned back twice, having second thoughts. If he was interested, he would have asked her out, right? No - he was shy, that's all. He wanted to see her - hadn't he invited her to sleep in his bed? Winona knocked on the door, knowing that at this early hour Laurent might be in bed right now...

But Laurent was up and dressed. Winona could tell he was embarrassed to see her, but he behaved like a gentleman all the same. He invited her in, and introduced her to his young son. And his teenage daughter. And his wife.

Winona listened politely as Laurent told his wife about their foreign guest and how he had met Winona in town (a lie) while she was on a school trip. She ignored the lump that formed in her throat when Laurent's wife thanked him for thinking to introduce Winona to their daughter. But when Laurent joked about how it was lucky he and Winona had not met at the winery instead, she had to excuse herself.

"Ginger! Don't ask, but I NEED you to get up to the Durant gite at the top of the hill as soon as possible!" Winona whispered in a panic when Ginger answered her cell.
"Ok, but..."
"Don't ask, I said! Just get here now!"

Winona sat on the edge of the Durant veranda, swinging her legs over the edge, biding her time before going back inside, thinking of any excuse not to. She heard the screen door slam shut behind her and a set of young footsteps bouncing along the deck toward her.

"Wanna play tag?" Laurent's son asked.
"Sure, kid," she said, never more relieved for a game of tag in her life.

Ginger showed up a while later and she and Winona spent the rest of the afternoon as guests of the Durants. Ginger befriended Laurant's daughter, and Winona became good friends with his son. ("The pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?" chided Ginger). Winona also managed to suck up her hurt pride and come to terms with the true nature of her relationship to Laurent - a friendship. He confided later that he'd always assumed she felt the same, and apologized for hurting her. He had not tried to hide his wife because he had romantic feelings for Winona, but because his wife was easily jealous, and might misinterpret his friendship with her. Life would get easier, he promised, but not less complicated. Winona and Ginger thanked them for their hospitality at the end of the day. "You owe me," whispered Ginger on their way to the gate.

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