It could have been the heat, but it wasn't.  Been here before, she told herself.  There was no fighting it.  Visions came when they came, not when they were convenient.  It had been months since she'd had a clear, strong one.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.    

The world shifted.  Everyone she knew, everyone she cared about, was suddenly crowded into her mind.  Everyone was moving, and everything was gray.

The gray separated, into light and dark, and still everyone was moving.  Scott and his father and his mother, Mickey and his lady, Control, Mira, Lily.  People she barely knew came, and people she did not know at all, and they were all moving, shuffling like those toy football players on an electric vibrating field, into light, into dark.  All jumbled, all moving.  Where am I? Becky wondered.  Am I moving, too?

The dark grew darker, and people began to vanish into it.

They would not come back.

Becky searched their faces, trying desperately to remember who went into the dark, trying to keep track, but there were too many, moving too fast.  A dark-haired man, a young woman.  She could not keep track of the ones she knew any more.  Everything was moving into chaos. Everyone was moving away...

Then it snapped. 

She sat straight up in her chair.  She was back in real time, back in her classroom.  It was hot, and the box fan in the window just blew the hot air around.  Her pencil was in her hand, the answer to the accounting problem still half-written.  Beside her, a classmate gave her a worried look and returned to his own exam.

Becky shook her head hard, trying to clear it.  She didn't know whether to be afraid or overjoyed.  There had been so much darkness in her vision, but the light had been so bright, too.  She wished she understood.  Everyone moving, that was nothing new.  Everyone was always moving.  But into darkness, into light...

She took another deep breath and let it go.  The answers would grow clearer over time.  They always did.  Sometimes she even understood in time to help. 

With a final shake, she went back to her exam.

 * * * * *

Scott McCall stepped onto the conductor's podium.  Sacred space, forbidden space, but it was where they'd told him to stand.  The room was bathed with harsh white florescent light, and he reached to tilt the music stand so he could see the notes.   He glanced up.  Past the rows of empty folding chairs and metal stands, back where the percussion section should be, the conductor and the producer and the newly-promoted concert master stood, talking quietly, waiting. 

Scott was dressed better than any of them.  He could have come to the audition in his cut-offs.

But the clothes gave him confidence.  He looked good – damn good – and he knew it.  The shoes hugged his feet.  He felt taller, yet less awkward.  He felt great.

He wondered if the woman who had appointed herself his fairy godmother knew all that.  She was behind him, somewhere, in the hallway.  Waiting.  The beautiful young woman who had been his father's lover...

Scott shook his head.  None of it mattered now.  None of it could matter.  Not the woman or the clothes, not the men who waited patiently to hear his music.  Only the music itself.  He closed his eyes, tucked the violin under his chin, flexed his fingers one last time.  His little routine, making the transition from Man to Musician. 

He played.

They had not said whether they wanted the show music or his audition piece first.  He played the Mozart, with his eyes closed.  The music flowed from him, from the violin, the bow, like cascading light, like sweet water.  Every note, true and clear.  Every attack definitive, every pause sharp.  Every phrase full, complete.

He had never played better in his life.

He reached the end of the section and stopped, opened his eyes and lowered the violin.  Sheet music next.  He reached to adjust the stand again.    

"Never mind," the conductor said.  His name was Hricko, Scott reminded himself.  Herman Hricko and he had an accent that said he was from somewhere in central Europe. 

Scott dropped the violin all the way to his side and waited, confused.  He had played brilliantly.  Hadn't he?  Or maybe the best that Scott McCall had ever played wasn't really all that good...

"You're in," Hricko said. 

"Oh.  Thank you."

The producer said, "Leave your information with Rachel.  We'll get a contract to you in the morning."

"Okay."

The two men walked out, talking probably about some new matter.  The concert master, a man of about forty whose name Scott could not remember if he'd even heard it, came around the orchestra chairs to meet Scott at the side of the platform.  "I'll get your music," he said.  "And a schedule.  Please tell me you're a fast learner."

Scott shrugged.  "My girlfriend says I am."

The man raised one eyebrow.  "That one?" he asked, gesturing towards the hallway.  "That's a hell of a compliment."

"No," Scott answered.  "That's my future step-mother."

"Lucky dog.  Just stay away from meat hammers, okay?"

"Okay."

"We're gonna have to work in extra rehearsals somewhere," the man sighed.  "We leave two weeks from yesterday.  You have a passport?"

"Yes."

"Good.  Be here in the morning, eight.  I'll introduce you around."

"I'll be here."

"What's your name again?"

"McCall.  Scott McCall."

The man nodded.  "Joe Bradley.  Good to meet you."

 * * * * *

They headed back for the city.  The whole audition had taken less than half an hour.  Scott squirmed and bounced in the passenger seat, reading the itinerary over.  "I can't believe this. England, France, Germany, Italy... this is great.  I can't believe I got this."  He considered.  "I can't believe you got me this."

"I got you the audition," Lily corrected gently.  "You got the rest yourself.  You were really good, you know."

Scott grinned.  "I think it's the clothes."

"I think you'd play that well stark naked."  The woman grinned slyly.  "And I might pay quite a lot to see that."

He blushed furiously.  "Uh... no."

"Just kidding.  Well, mostly."

Scott gazed out the window while his cheeks cooled.  They were flying through traffic again, even though there was no need to hurry.  He thought about saying something, then decided against it.  His comments always made his father cranky, and Kostmayer just drove faster.  He wasn't sure about Lily, but he wasn't taking any chances.

He couldn't believe she'd gotten him this gig.  It would solve so many of his money problems, give him steady income and low expenses for the next six months.  Plus it would get his music career back on track.  Give him a big fat reference on his resume.  Let him meet the people in the industry who could give him his next gig, and the one after that.  This was a huge break.  He intended to make the most of it.

Not bad, coming from his dad's ex.

And she was, he was quite certain, the ex.  Robert and Lily had had a fight, and a big one, judging by the force of the back blast Scott caught from it.  A few months ago, in the middle of an entirely different argument, his father had suddenly begun to rant at him about how Lily Romanov was entirely a Company drone and how Scott was never, ever to trust her.  The rant had lasted until Scott had pointed out, unwisely, that he hadn't even mentioned Lily.  Which had set father off on an entirely different rant. 

But then somewhere, too, they'd made up – his father and Lily.  Robert hadn't objected in the least to Scott and Becky helping with the Fall of the Wall party she'd organized.  Not a single negative word about her.  Scott had thought they might even be back together.  But then Robert had begun dating Scott's neighbor, Mira.

Scott shook his head.  It was all too complicated, trying to keep track of his father's love life.  And he didn't really want to.  It was enough that Lily and his father were still friendly, and that Lily had gotten him this gig.

He was going to Europe.  He was going to get paid to play music, every day, and he was going to Europe, for six months, hotel rooms and catered food and a different city every week, trains and planes and music.  Europe.

Then he sat up straight.  "I can't go."

Romanov glanced at him.  "Hmmm?"

"I can't … I can't take this gig." 

"Okay," she answered calmly.

"I'm sorry," Scott said earnestly.  "I know you went to a lot of trouble, you and Mickey and … but I can't.  I can't leave Becky."  His heart broke.  He wanted this trip so badly, but Becky had been left too many times in her life.  This would kill her.  He could hear his mother's logic, and his father's, the arguments, it's only six months, you can call every day, you're supposed to be adults, for heaven's sake, she must realize what an opportunity this is for you...  

Lily said, simply, "Take her with you."

Scott stared across the car at her.  "What?"

"Take her with you," the agent repeated. 

"I... I... she has school."

"Summer semester's almost over, isn't it?."

"We can't afford it."

"I have a billion frequent flyer miles.  She can stay in your room.  Now you're down to food.  And that's assuming we can't get her a job with the road company.  She does have skills, you know."

"She doesn't have a passport."

Lily smiled wryly.  "I have dozens.  I'll loan her one."

"But... but..." Scott looked out the window again.  Take Becky to Europe?  Show her all the places he'd been, share all the new places with her?  The cities, the train rides, the crappy hotels, the shows... she would love it.  She would love all of it, and he would love sharing it with her. 

As if getting this amazing gig hadn't been enough, now he could share it with the woman he loved.  It was too good.

It seemed impossible.

"Look, I'm not telling you what to do," Lily said.  "If you don't want to go, it's no skin off my ass.  I had nothing better to do today anyhow.  But if you want to go and you want to take Becky with you, it can be arranged.  Believe me, it would be no sweat."

He took a deep breath.  The possibilities spun through his mind, tumbling over each other.  Becky with him in Europe.  The trip of a lifetime.  "Really?"

"Really.  Whatever you need, just tell me.  It can be arranged."

"My fairy godmother."

Lily chuckled.  "Remind me to run Kostmayer over when I see him."

 * * * * *

Becky let herself into the apartment, put her book bag down.  There were lights on; she could hear movement in the kitchen.  "Scott?"

"Be right out," he called.  "How'd the test go?"

"Good, I think."  She kicked her shoes off and hung up her jacket.  "If I get through the final next week, then I'm done until September."

"Yeah," Scott called.  "About that."  He appeared in the doorway with a stem glass in each hand.  He was trying not to grin.  "How would you feel about taking some time off?"

Becky blinked at him.  She felt the vision return; everyone moving.  It passed.  "Why?"

"So we can go to Europe for six months."  He quit trying to fight the grin and went with it.

She smiled uncertainly.  "What?"

He kissed her and handed her a glass of champagne.  "Europe.  Six months.  Road show.  I got a gig.  You're coming with me.  We leave in two weeks."

"What?" 

Scott laughed.   "Europe.  I know you'd have to take a semester off school.  But you could eat in every great restaurant in Europe.  It's not a bad trade-off."

Becky stared at him.

"But," Scott faltered, "if you don't want to, then we don't have to go.  I know how important school is to you, and you've only got one more year.  I just thought... but if you don't want to..."

"You could go without me," she said quietly.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," Scott answered firmly.  "Not ever again.  If you don't want to go, I'm staying here."

"But..." She paused.  Everybody moving.  "I want to."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

He grinned, and kissed her, and they both spilled champagne.  Becky laughed.  "I think we need to drink or neck, but not both."

Scott nodded, stepping away.  "Drink first."  He held his glass out.  "To Europe."

"To Europe," she toasted, and they drank. 

Then he took her glass away and gathered her in his arms.  "Now neck."

They kissed long and slow.  Then Becky made a vague gesture towards the couch.  They'd been together long enough that Scott understood:  He was so much taller than her that she was getting a kink in her neck.  They sat, snuggled close, and kissed some more.

"Would you really have not gone without me?" Becky asked.

"Absolutely."

"But this is such a great chance for you."

Scott shrugged.  "But you're chance of a lifetime.  Besides, if I went without you, I'd spend the whole time being miserable and missing you.  Now I can go and really enjoy it."

Some time later, when they had to break for air, she said, "You didn't even tell me you had an audition."

"I didn't," he laughed.  "I think I got swept up in a Company operation."

"What?"

He explained, swiftly, about being accosted by Kostmayer and then by Heath, and taken over state lines by Romanov.  "It was wild.  They just sorta passed me around like cargo."  Scott shook his head.  "Mickey says she's my fairy godmother."

Becky hesitated, listening for intuition.  There was nothing.  There never was, where Lily was concerned.  "Did you tell your dad you got the job?"

His face fell.  "I forgot."

"You should call him."

"In a minute."  They kissed again.  "We're going to Europe," he said in disbelief.  "We're getting paid to go to Europe."

"Your mother is going to hit the roof," Becky said dourly.

Scott closed his eyes.  "I think I'll call my dad first."

He did. Robert was predictably pleased.  He was also surprisingly supportive of the idea of Becky going along.  "I can arrange a passport for her," he offered, "but Lily's probably got closer connections.  Let her handle it."

"I'll call her," Scott promised.

"And Scott – don't worry about money.  If you need any help with it..."

Scott flushed.  He was getting too damn old to be in his father's pocket.  "It's okay, Dad.  We'll figure it out."

"I'm sure you will, but... unexpected things happen.  It's only money."

Which meant, in Robert-speak, I love you.  "Thanks, Dad.  I'll let you know."

"Whatever I can help you with, Scott.  I'll drop by in the morning, shall I, and we'll see what needs to be done."

"Sure.  You, uh, wouldn't be willing to tell Mom for us, would you?"

There was a distinct pause.  "Let me know if you need any money, Scott."  The phone went dead.

Scott turned to Becky.  "Let's have dinner."

 * * * * *

Control shook his head, pausing between bites of pasta. "Your good deed for the day, was it?"

"It was fun," Lily said.  "And he was so good at the audition." 

"I'm sure he was.  He's very talented.  He always has been."

"Oh, Heath sent you ties.  One's pink."  He cocked one eyebrow at her.  "I told him you wouldn't wear it, but you know how he is."

"I'll look at it."  Lily popped to her feet.  "Not right now..." he began.  There was no point.  She'd already trotted into the living room and returned with the ties.  He considered the pink one.  "It's not pink.  It's more salmon."

"I told him.  He insisted."

"I'll wear it," Control replied serenely.  Then he grinned.  "Mostly to keep you from thinking you know everything about me."  He put the ties aside and continued his attack on the pasta before him.  Flat fettuccini noodles, broccoli, mushrooms, creamy garlic sauce.  "Becky's?" he asked, gesturing with his fork, his mouth full.

"Becky's recipe.  I made it." 

"It's good." 

"Thanks."

They ate in silence.  Or, rather, Control ate; Lily, he finally noted, toyed with her food and watched him.  "What?"

"Nothing."

He arched one eyebrow.  "If there's arsenic in here, the garlic is covering it nicely."

She smiled brightly.  "Oh, good.  I was worried."

Control went on eating, a bit more slowly.  "I can't say as I'd blame you."

"I would never poison you, love.  Tear your throat out with my bare hands, maybe, but never poison you."

He finished the pasta.  She bounced to her feet again and refilled his plate.  "You don’t have to wait on me, you know."  Then he shook his head.  "Except you do, and that's pretty much all you do, isn’t it?"

She'd been home from Europe for four days.  This was the first time they'd been alone together – and he couldn't stay. 

"I don't mind," Lily answered.  "I find my own amusements."

Control considered her. Lily Romanov was a beautiful, resourceful woman, and she was fully capable of amusing herself.  He didn't want to consider what amusements such a woman could find on the streets of New York City.  How many men – no, he emphatically did not want to think about it.  But while he was stuck in the office twenty or more hours a day, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding wound that was central Europe, he could hardly ask that she sit quietly at home and wait for him to show up for dinner.  

The quiet fear lurked in him, always, that he would lose her to someone more amusing – or at least more attentive.  He couldn't even blame her.  The fault would be entirely his.

Yet here she was, cooking dinner for him, attending his every need.

And if he'd said, I've got twenty minutes, leave the dishes, let's go screw – even if he put it just that baldly – she'd not only be agreeable, she'd be enthusiastic.  My drive-by sex life, Control thought grimly.  She'd called it that once, apologized later, but it was absolutely true.

He wanted more.  Sometimes they had more.  Much more.  He wanted more now.

Except that he had to get back to the office.

Lily was still watching him.  "What?" he snapped.

"When was the last time you ate?" Lily asked quietly.

Control bristled.  "Breakfast."

"Today?"

"Maybe yesterday," he conceded.  "I've been busy."

She shook her head.  "I bet you've lost ten pounds since I saw you last.  Doesn't anybody take care of you while I'm gone?"

"No." 

Lily sat back.  She had gone silent.  Not quiet, as she'd been before.  Silent.  There was a difference; Control could feel it in the air between them.  He'd snapped his reply once too often.  She wouldn't argue with him about it.  She understood all the 'whys' of his temper.  But she wasn't going to step into the line of fire again, either.  She would stay silent, or nearly so, until he left.

And next time he showed up, it would be as if nothing had happened. 

It was how their relationship had always worked.

In a city full of men more amusing, more attentive.

"I don't know why you stay with me," Control said quietly.

"Yes, you do," she answered.

He nodded.  He did.  Though he very much doubted that his answer and hers were the same.  He put his fork down.  "It's going to be bad, Lily.  Worse than you've ever seen."

"I know."

You don't, Control thought.  You have seen some damned awful things in your time, but you have seen nothing like the Balkans are about to become.  His mind flashed in gory detail to a sunny morning, pleasant and cool, walking across a new-plowed field, the rough ground at his feet, the sod turned, and as he walked he kicked a clump of grass aside and there was a face staring up at him, a young woman, dead and rotting, covered with grass and dirt in a field that had perhaps been her family's farm.  He remembered the horror as he looked around and saw the whole field had been turned, and his eyes met Robert's and they knew, they both knew, that the field had been planted with the bodies of the innocent, as far as they could run in any direction. 

They had sworn to themselves and to each other that it would never happen again. 

It had happened dozen times since, and it was going to happen again.

"I don't want you to go," he said.

His beloved nodded solemnly.  "All right."

"Just like that."

"We've been through this before, kedves.  Say the word, tell me where you want me, I'm there."

Control closed his eyes.  Just like that.  Keep her close, keep her safe.  Keep her from seeing the horrors he had seen.  Keep her alive.  Keep her for himself.

Keep her waiting at home, or finding her own amusements on the streets of New York?

That wasn't fair.  She had never for an instant given him reason to doubt her faithfulness.  But then, he had never disrespected her abilities and her independence enough to ask her to quit the Company for his comfort.

Loving Lily Romanov, and letting her remain who she was, was the hardest thing he had ever done.

"There may come a day," he said, "when I won't be able to let you go again."

"Tell me when," she promised.  In her eyes, though, he saw relief.  She was glad he hadn't reined her in just yet.

It was still an adventure to her.

Control shook his head sadly.  "My Lily, my Lily."

And she was in his arms.     

* * * * *

Day Twelve (Tuesday)

* * * * *

Just after midnight the phone rang.  "'lo?" Scott asked sleepily.

"You said you were going to call me right back," Kay said coldly.  "I've been waiting here for hours.

Scott winced.  "I'm sorry, Mom.  I meant to call you, I really did... I got kinda distracted."  Beside him, Becky rolled closer and half-distracted him all over again.

"I can imagine," Kay said disdainfully.

He wanted to argue, but she wasn't wrong.  "Sorry, Mom."

"I hope you've thought about what I said," Kay continued.  "I know you're very attached to this young woman, but an opportunity like this..."

"We're getting married," Scott announced.

There was a long, long pause.  Becky shifted closer, and Scott held her very tightly.  Finally, Kay said, quietly, "I don't suppose there's any talking you out of this."

"No," Scott answered, just as quietly.

"I think it's a mistake, Scott."

"I know you do. But you're wrong."

"I see."  There was another lengthy silence.  Then, "I'll come into the city for dinner tomorrow and we'll start making the arrangements."

"Uh... okay.  There's not much to arrange, though.  It's going to have to be pretty simple.  To get it done in two weeks."

"Oh. Oh, Scott."

"Mom," Scott protested, hearing the tears in her voice.  "Don't do that.  It's not fair."

She sniffed audibly.  "I'm just a little... overcome, that's all.  You caught me be surprise.  I'll be all right."

"I love you, Mom."

"You have your father's way of showing it."

She hung up on him.

"Scott?" Becky said quietly.

He kissed her forehead.  "It'll be okay," he promised.  And then, to reassure himself, he said it again.  "It'll be okay."

* * * * *

"Oh, yes," Robert McCall said, with a great deal more certainty, as the sun came up.  "It will be just fine."  He found it disconcerting that both his son and his future daughter-in-law were visibly relieved by his pronouncement.  "If all you want is a civil ceremony, it's rather simple.  Get the license, find someone to officiate, have a bit of tea after, perhaps."  He glanced at Scott.  "Wear a decent suit."

"Yes, Dad."  The boy added, "Uh... I need a new tux.  For the tour."

Robert closed his eyes briefly.  "I suppose you're done growing now.  I'll take you to Madam Olga." 

"Oh, good.  I was afraid you'd send me back to Heath."

"Madam Olga is Heath's mother," Robert pronounced with some relish.  "And men with arms and training are known to be terrified of her.  Myself included.  But she will make you a tuxedo that fits, I can promise you that.  We should go right away, though.  When do you get back from rehearsal?"

"We're supposed to be done at three.  So, four-ish."

"Kay's coming for dinner at six," Becky said quietly.

McCall scowled.  "Is she.  Well, I suppose that can't be helped.  I'll call Madam Olga and see if she can see you then."  He paused, reflecting.  "She's always quite busy, but she does owe me a favor.  Or two."

"What about a passport?" Scott asked.  "For Becky?"

"Call Romanov.  Let her take care of that."

"I'll call her," Becky said.  She stood and poured Robert another cup of coffee.  It was strong and hot, the way he liked it.  The way this ungodly hour of the morning demanded.  "Maybe I can get her to go shopping with me."

"I'm sure she'd be delighted," Robert said.

"She did say she'd help with anything we needed," Scott said carefully.  "She acted like she's got nothing to do."

"Does she, now?" Robert mused.  "I would have thought... well, no matter.  Absolutely, ask her to shop with you.  And anything else you need.  She has impeccable taste and extensive contacts.  If she's volunteered to help, let her."

"I thought you and she weren't..." Scott caught himself.  "I thought you were fighting."

McCall considered, sipping his blissfully hot coffee.  "We've patched up our differences."

"Good."

"But, Scott."  He chose his next words with great care.  "To obtain a passport, to socialize with her, that's all well and good.  If your life is ever on the line – if you're ever in danger – " He stopped again.  "You can trust Lily, to some degree.  But never forget that she is ultimately a creature of the Company.  Her first loyalty will always lie with Control.  Always."

"With Control or with the Company?" Becky asked quietly.

Robert studied her.  She was quiet, and it was easy to think she wasn't bright.  But Becky Baker was a keen observer of the people around her – and psychic as well.  It was really quite astounding that she hadn't gleaned the Great Secret yet.  "Control first," he answered honestly.  "Company second."

Scott shifted uneasily.  "Well, I don't really think anybody's going to die over this simple little wedding."

"From your lips, son," McCall said earnestly.  "All right.  You need to be on your way.  I'll call Madam Olga.  Becky can call Lily.  I suppose the next thing is to decide on a date.  But it's best if we let your mother have some input on that, I suppose."

"Please come to dinner," Becky said.

"Ahh..." Robert answered.  He looked into her big brown slightly frightened eyes and folded.  "Six.  I'll be here.  But we should go out somewhere to dinner."

"I thought I'd cook."

McCall shook his head.  "You want to have the option to leave."

"You think she'll be that bad?" Scott asked.

"I don't know.  I just believe in leaving options open."

Scott nodded.  "We will.  But this will be okay.  It'll be okay."

* * * * *

"Scott says you can get me a passport in two weeks."

Lily nodded, her mouth full of cinnamon roll.  "You need it?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Becky smiled nervously.  "I also need a marriage license."

"Hmm."  If the older woman was surprised, she didn't show it.  "Also in two weeks?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Lily wiped her mouth.  "What kind of wedding do you have in mind?"

"Small," Becky said firmly.  "Simple. Just a civil ceremony, maybe a little... I don't know, Robert says like a tea?"

Lily nodded again.  "I'll handle the paperwork.  Let me know what else I can do."

"Okay."

"Seriously.  I have the time off and absolutely nothing to do."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You want to go shopping?"

"Now?"

"Yes."

Lily nodded.  "Can I take cinnamon rolls along?"

"Help yourself."

* * * * *

The music was tough, and Scott felt achingly out of practice.  He was seated last chair, which he'd expected.  With the first chair gone, everyone else – all three of them – had moved up one.  There was a time when he would have resented being last.  But after the second hour, when he could barely keep his violin under his chin, he was glad for the lowered expectations.

He was glad to be busy, too.  In those few slack moments, he remembered that they were all having dinner with his mother.  And that his mother was not at all happy about his impending wedding.

Although – she had seemed to accept it, hadn't she?  She'd sounded resigned on the phone.  Maybe dinner wouldn't be that bad.

He sighed.  He was kidding himself.  It was going to be awful.

He focused on the music again.

* * * * *

It was a funny little resale shop, narrow and deep, with barred windows over faded 'Sale' signs.  Becky had walked by it a hundred times, but she had never thought to stop in on her own.  Lily, however, seemed to feel right at home there.  "They have great stuff," she said confidently.

There was a vast, unshaven man in a dirty white t-shirt behind the register, reading a tabloid.  He glanced up at them, grunted once, and ignored them.

"I only shop here for an ambience," Lily said. 

There were hanging racks full of jeans on the wall, three high, over fifteen feet, and bent metal poles to reach the higher ones down with.  On the floor, wobbly round racks were crammed with dresses and skirts and clothes of all varieties.  Becky picked at a dark blue dress nervously.  To her surprise, it was lovely.  "This is brand new," she said in surprise.

Lily nodded.  "Everything in here is brand new. And it's always cheap.  If I were the suspicious sort, I'd wonder why."

"Oh." 

The dress was her size and cost five dollars.  "That's one."

They found one more dress and three skirts, four tops and two pairs of jeans.  They found dress shoes.  They found jeans for Scott, and remarkably, shirts that would fit him.  Lily acquired a pile of her own selections.  They spent, between them, less than an hour and under a hundred dollars.  Cash only, of course.

The man at the register spoke no English, and didn't seem to know any words longer than one syllable.

"That was easy," Becky said, rather breathlessly, when they were on the sidewalk again.

Lily nodded.  "Hope all the rest of your planning goes as well.  Let's go get some pictures taken."

"Pictures?"

"For your passport."

"Oh.  Okay."

Lily knew, of course, exactly where to go.

* * * * *

At the back door of Heath's shop, Scott climbed out of the Jaguar and swayed lightly.  He wondered if his father and Mickey had contests to see who could be the more nerve-wracking driver.

"Do we have to go here?" he asked quietly.

Robert looked over the car at him.  "I'm afraid we do," he said uncertainly.  He tugged at his cuffs, straightened his tie.  "Yes.  We do."

It did not reassure Scott that his father was visibly anxious.

Heath let them in.  "Ah, you're back!" he said warmly.  "You got the job, of course."

"Yes," Scott answered.  "Thank you."

"I knew you would.  Dressed like that, how could you not.  You've ditched the bitch, I see.  Let's try those pastels now."

"No pastels," Robert said sternly.  "We're here to see Madam Olga."

Heath paused.  "Oh.  Formal wear.  I see."  His manner was suddenly solemn.  He dropped back, gestured to a small door.  "You know the way."

"Thank you."  Robert opened the door and gestured for Scott to go first up the narrow stairs beyond.

He went, hesitantly, until he was sure his father was behind him.  At the top was another door.  Scott hesitated.  "Should I knock?"

"No," Robert said cautiously.  "She's knows we're coming." 

They looked at each other, crowded in the dark stairway.  Scott had no idea why his father was so stressed about meeting with a seamstress, but he suddenly wished he had a gun.  And he was glad that Robert did.  Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door.

The room was the same size as the shop below, but mostly empty and dim.  Against the walls, dark racks of coats and pants.  In the center, a square platform.  Beyond, backlit by the windows, in a large armchair, was the outline of a small woman. 

"Madam Olga?" Robert called quietly.

The woman was motionless.  "So you've returned at last," she said, her voice low and cracking with age.

"I've brought my son," Robert answered solemnly.  "He needs a tuxedo."

"He's done growing?  I won't waste my time with growing boys.  Outgrow their clothes before they're even stitched."

"Yes, Madam Olga."

The woman rose slowly, leaning heavily on a stick.  Standing, she was not five foot tall.  She creaked towards them.  

When she reached the center of the room, she suddenly rapped her stick sharply on the floor three times.  The room flared instantly with glaring light, making Scott flinch and cover his eyes.  When he could see again, the little woman was swarming around him, her stick no longer crutch but pointer.

"Put your hands down," she ordered sharply.  "Stand up straight."

He could not help but obey.

"You," she barked at Robert, "get back, get back.  Out of my light."

Scott almost grinned when he noted that his father was as obedient as he had been.  But the grin died when the old woman's attention turned back to him.  "Straight, I said," she snapped.  She cracked his heel with her stick and he found another level of posture.  She circled him quickly, left to right.  Then she turned and walked back the other way, slowly.  "Dresses left, does he?  Gets that from his mother's side."

Scott forcefully resisted the urge to cover his privates with his hands.  If he moved, he was certain she'd crack him again.

"Well," Madam Olga finally pronounced, "he's built well enough.  I can dress him.  Strip."

Scott blinked at her.  "Huh?"

This time the stick caught the back of his knee.  "Are you deaf, child?  Strip.  Out of those clothes.  I can't very well measure through them, now can I?  Off, off.  Strip!"

Scott looked panic-stricken at his father.

"Do it," Robert advised grimly.

In cold fear, with one eye on the stick, Scott began to peel off his clothes.

* * * * *     

In his clothes again and in the car, Scott wrapped his arms protectively over his chest.

"Are you all right?" Robert asked.

"Yes."

"Glove compartment."

"Hmm?"

"Open the glove compartment."

Scott did.  There was, among other things, a slender silver flask.  He brought it out, glanced at his father.  "This?"

"Yes."

He unscrewed the cap and held it out to his father.

Robert glanced at him.  "It's for you, son."

"Oh."  Scott took a deep breath, and then a deep drink.  It burned all the way down.  And then it turned warm within him.  "Oh."

"Have another.  Then put it away. The box is for you, too."

"Okay."  Scott drank again.  Then he put the flask away and found the small jewelry box.  He looked at the ring inside, the ring that had been his mother's and his grandmother's.  "Oh."  He put it in his pocket, then sat back and closed his eyes.  "Thanks, Dad."

"Feel better?"

"Yes."

"Good."  Robert sighed.  "Let's go see your mother."

* * * * *

"Well," Kay said, when drinks and appetizers had been ordered, "I don't suppose there's really much point to this dinner.  I'm sure you've made up your mind about everything."

"N-No," Becky answered.  "Scott's been at rehearsal all day and we haven't had time.  A-and we wanted to hear your ideas before we set anything." 

She shot a nervous glance at Robert.  He barely nodded, his eyes reassuring.  They had had, he and his daughter-to-be, a small coaching session that afternoon.

"Oh."  Kay's manner thawed, just a notch.  "Well.  I suppose we'd better start with a date then."

"It almost has to be a week from Saturday," Scott said.  "Or sooner."

"Maybe the Friday," Becky offered.

"Oh, Friday weddings always seem so rushed," Kay countered.  "People coming in after work, or having to take the day off.  It's just rude."

The young man nodded.  "Saturday, then."

The drinks came, and Kay produced a small notebook from her purse.  She fumbled for a moment, and her husband, Walter, produced a pen without a word.

Robert sighed quietly.  This was going to be a bloodbath.

"What?" Kay demanded.

"Nothing," he said innocently. 

"You sighed."

"Oh.  Just, uh, the Scotch.  It's very good."

Kay eyed him suspiciously, then turned to Becky.  "I don't know what kind of a hall we'll be able to get on this much notice."

"W-we weren't really thinking we'd g-get a h-hall," she stammered.  "Just a little, uh, a little reception, m-maybe here?"

Kay looked around Pete O'Phelan's Place with undisguised dismay.  "Here?"

"Why not?" Scott asked.

"Yes," Robert rumbled mildly, "why not, Kay?"

"Well, but it's just so... I mean, really, a reception in a bar?  It's so common."

Becky actually flinched.  "J-just tea and coffee," she said.  "Maybe a little cake."

Kay sighed.  "And a church?  You'll never get a church this soon, they'll be booked a year ahead. Not that Scott's been to church since he left home, but honestly... you don't have a church either, do you?"

"I do," Becky said.  "But they already have a wedding scheduled."

Kay sighed. "I really think we should just postpone this whole affair.  It's not as if there really needs to be this great hurry – does there?"

Becky looked at her blankly. 

"No," Scott said quickly.

"Well, then.  We need to just put this wedding off and take some time to plan it, and then when Scott gets back from his tour..."

"No," Scott said firmly.

Robert nodded to himself.  He had hoped the boy would stand up to her.  Now, hopefully, he would stick to his guns.          

"Now, Scott..." Kay began.

"I'm not going on tour without Becky.  And you were the one who said we should get married first."

"Well."  Kay sat back and sipped her drink.  "Well."

"We just want a small civil ceremony," Becky said. "And then just a coffee."

"Yes," Kay answered coldly.  "You said that."

An uneasy silence settled over the table.  The waiter brought several plates of appetizers, opened his mouth to banter a bit, then thought better of it and went away. 

"Well," Kay finally said.  "If that the case, I just don't see how I can invite much family.  Your aunt and uncle, Scott, I can't see them coming all the way into the city for a piece of cake."

"I don't expect them to," Scott answered. 

"And of course there's Dorothy and Dave, they’ll just be heartbroken not to be invited, but honestly, I can't expect..."

Here is comes, Robert thought, and on cue his ex-wife began to cry.

"Mom..." Scott said.

Kay grabbed her napkin and dabbed her eyes.  "No, don't," she answered.  "Don't worry about it.  I understand you're a grown man, you have to make your own decisions.  It's just that I had some hopes, you know, to see my son married in a church, with flowers and candles and all our friends around... but I suppose the world just doesn't work that way any more."

McCall felt his back stiffen with anger.  He barely, barely bit back an argument.  This was Scott's fight; it had to be.  But he could see his son folding.

Scott and Becky shared a long look.  "I-I could ask," Becky finally said, "about the church.  I don't know if t-they could have a second wedding, l-late in the day, m-maybe."

"Flowers," Scott conceded glumly.  "Candles."

Robert sighed.  "I know some people who would be willing to help." 

"Lily," Becky said quickly.  "She said she had free time.  She'll help us."

Kay sat up very straight.  "Oh, yes," she said with a perceptible chill.  "Scott said she was a friend of yours."  She very deliberately did not look at her ex-husband. 

"She's very good at arranging things," Robert offered sweetly.  "I'm sure she'd be a great... asset."

Kay did glare at him then.  Then she snapped her attention back to Becky.  "If you're having a late wedding, we'll have to have something more substantial than tea.  There will need to be a dinner."

"W-we can't afford that," Becky blurted.

"And there isn't time, anyhow," Scott added quickly.

"Well, then."  Kay sighed heavily.  "I suppose you might as well just elope, as have some sort of half-baked event.  I just think this whole thing could wait."

Robert growled softly but did not speak.  Come on, Scott, he urged silently.  Put a stop to this right now. 

The boy said, "What if we had a small wedding now and a big reception when we get back?"

"Oh, Lord, no," Kay answered.  "That would just be blatantly fishing for presents.  No, no, no."  She sighed again.  "Can't your family help with any of this?" she demanded of Becky.

"I-I-I don't have any family."

"None at all?"

"None at all," Robert barked.  "But if you are determined to have your way with this wedding... I suppose I could cover the expense.  Within reason."

"Y-you don't have to..."

"Dad, you can't..."

"Of course he can," Kay said.  "He has investments, didn't he tell you?"

An ugly silence settled over the table.

"I don't mind, really," Robert said, to his son and his fiancée.  "So long as you have the kind of wedding you want, it will be my pleasure."  And then, because he couldn't resist, he added, "I'm sure Lily can locate some wonderful bargains, anyhow."

"Bargains," Kay stuttered.  "This is your only child's wedding, Robert.  Do we really have to look for bargains?"

"Yes," Becky said quietly.

Robert met Scott's eyes.  The boy understood.  They did need Lily for her organizational abilities.  But far more, they needed her as cover for Becky.  Scott barely nodded.      

"All right," Kay said.  "But I won't have this looking cheap.  This has to be a nice wedding."

McCall squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.  The coup was thus complete.

Kay turned back to her notebook.  "The first thing we'll need," she said, "is to set the date.  So we need to start with the church."

"I can go talk to Rev. Tom tomorrow," Becky said.

"In the morning?  Good.  Then we'll need to find a hall, too, before we can have the invitations printed."

"Printed invitations?" Robert asked delicately.  "Is there time for that?"

Kay shot him an annoyed glance.  "They'll have to be hand-delivered, of course," she said.  "And there will have to be telephone calls, but we can follow up with a mailed invitation."

"Ahh."  Robert gazed off into the distance, hearing his bank account whine.

"And then food," Kay continued, scribbling, "and a wedding dress and..."

"I-I was just going to get a nice suit," Becky said.

Kay stared at her.  "Oh.  Oh, I see.  Well, we can talk about that.  But Scott already has a tux, or will have – it would be a shame not to wear it.  And of course if he's in a tux, it would just look silly if you didn't have a wedding gown."

Becky sighed.

"And then you'll need attendants, and flowers, and something for the dinner and a cake..." She looked up from her notebook.  "I need a bigger notebook.  And I think I'd better plan on coming and staying here in the city.  We'll never get this done otherwise."

Scott groaned softly.  Robert almost smiled.  It was exactly as he'd expected.  He'd tried to tell them. 

An adventure, Scott had said.  An adventure he would have.

* * * * *

* * * * *

"This is ridiculous," Scott said in the car.  "I can't believe I just let her walk all over me like that.  I should have known.  The minute she started to cry, I should have known..."

"It's okay, Scott."

"It's not."  He swerved the VW around one taxi, cut off another, and barely glanced back before cutting in again.  "I knew she would do this and I walked right into it, like I always do.  We've got all these other things to worry about and now she wants the Great White Wedding... you know what?  We should just turn around and go back and tell her no."

"She already left for Connecticut," Becky said.

"Then we'll follow her there and just tell her..."

"No."

"Becky, seriously.  It's bad enough I jump through all her hoops.  I'm not going to make you do it, too."

"I-I want this," she said, very quietly.

"What?"

"This wedding."  Her voice was still soft, almost lost beneath the traffic noise.  "I know it's a big hassle.  I wouldn't have asked, for myself, I would have..... I mean, it doesn't really matter, if I get to be married to you, that's what I want most, but..."

Scott glanced over at her.  "You want the Great White Wedding."

Becky blushed and looked away.  "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid.  If it's what you want."

"Just... when I was little I had this doll, this bride doll, you know, and I... you know what?  This is dumb.  I just... when she started talking about flowers and churches and... it's dumb, though.  We don't have time."

Scott sighed.  "We could wait.  Until after the tour.  We'd have time to plan this right."

"I don't want to wait.  I'd rather go with Plan A."  Becky shook her head.  "It's really not that important, Scott.  I shouldn't have said anything.  You're right, let's go find your mom and tell her..."

"No."

"Scott, really..."

"No," he repeated firmly.  A horn blew behind them.  "Damn it, wait a minute."  He scooted the Beetle around a corner and into an illegal parking spot, threw it into park and turned to her.  "Becky, look.  In the whole time I've known you, in the whole time we've been together, I can count on one hand the number of things you've asked for.   You have worked around my crazy schedules, you've put up with my crazy friends – you let Gordy sleep on our couch for three weeks and never complained about it – you fed my dad when he was sick.  Becky, you have been so wonderful to me, and you've hardly asked for anything.  If this is what you want, if this is really what you want, then absolutely let's do it."

"But..."

"Uh-uh.  White dress, candles, flowers, sit-down dinner.  All of it.  If you want it, and if we can do it, it's yours."

"I can't ask you to do all this for me."

"Becky, I would do anything for you.  Don't you know that?"

She began to cry, very softly.

"Oh, don't cry yet," Scott chuckled.  "I have something better."

"You what?"

He brought out the small box.  "This still isn't right," he said, looking around the cramped little car, illegally parked on a noisy street corner.  "But at least we're both dressed."  He opened the box.  Inside was an old platinum band, set with a larger square-cut diamond, with a smaller diamond on each side of it.  "This was my mother's, and my grandmother's.  And now it's yours."

"I... but..."

"Will you marry me, Becky?"

"I... Scott, I..."

He took the ring out of the box.  "We'll probably have to have it resized.  Or we can get the stones reset, whatever you want."  He slid the ring onto her finger.  It fit perfectly.

"No," she said.

"No?"

"No, I don't want it reset.  But yes, I'll marry you.  Again."  And then she cried in earnest. 

* * * * *

Robert glared at the blinking light on his answering machine.  He didn't have time, honestly, to be helping anyone right now.  He should probably pull the newspaper ad for a few weeks.  Kay's wedding was going to cost more time and money than he was willing to contemplate. 

Still, if someone needed him... he pushed the button.

"Robert, it's me," Mira Kalinich said pleasantly.  "You're late."

McCall swore under his breath.  He'd completely forgotten about their date.

"Since you're never late for anything," the message continued, "I'm going to assume you're with one of your people.  So I'm going on to the show, and if you can join me, do, and if you can't, call me when you're free.  Night, love."

Thoughtfully, Robert erased the message.  The same message from Kay would have been laden with scorn and guilt.  From Mira, there was none.  She was simply going without him. 

He was, he mused, very likely falling in love with Mira Kalinich. 

* * * * *

"Good Lord," Lily said, letting them into her apartment – which had once been Scott's apartment – well after midnight, "what happened to you two?"

"We have a ring," Becky said.  She was still sniffling.

Lily snagged her hand.  "Nice."

"Heirloom," Scott said.  "My mother's and my grandmother's."

"Very nice."

"I told her she could have it reset..."

"I told him no."

Lily nodded thoughtfully.  "And what else?"

The lightness faded.  "My mother," Scott said succinctly.

Lily pointed towards the couch.  "Sit."  She went to the kitchen, returned with tall glasses of ice and lemonade – liberally laced with vodka.

They drank.  Lily sat in the armchair and waited.  "Your mother?" she prompted quietly when they were calmer.

"Our little wedding," Scott explained, "did not suit her."

"No surprise there."

"She wants a real wedding," Becky added.

"Uh-huh."

"And... so do I," Becky confessed. 

Scott said, "We need help."

"I am at your disposal.  Tell me what you need."

"There's a list."

"There would have to be."

The room was silent except for the clicking of ice on glass.  "Your passport is in the works," Lily said.  "And I checked yours, Scott.  It's good for two more years."

"Oh.  Thanks.  I think."

"The license is a snap.  I just need both of you, with birth certificates and driver's licenses, and forty bucks or so. Twenty-four hours in advance."

"I..." Becky began.  "I don't have those."

"Those what?"

"Those papers."

"You don't have a driver's license?"

"I don't drive."

Lily frowned at her.  "On purpose?"

"I never... had a chance to learn.  Or any need to, living here."

"Mmm."

"I don't have a birth certificate, either."

"Yes, you do."  Lily reached behind her to a table, handed Becky a tattered envelope.  Inside was an apparently aged certificate, with all the information she'd adopted when she'd come to the city.

Looking over her shoulder at the document, Scott asked, "How'd you do this?"

"I didn't. Control had it made a couple years ago.  I just had to stop by the office and ask."

Becky stared at her.

"He likes you, you know."

"Oh."

Scott put his glass down.  "What about the license?"

"I can get one," Lily answered.  "Or any picture ID will do."

"I have a school one, and a work one," Becky answered.

"Then we're good."  She looked to Scott.  "When aren't you rehearsing?"

"Um... never."

"Not helpful." 

"Friday afternoon they have cast photos.  I could get home then." 

"Good.  I'll tell you where to go."   

"I bet you will," he answered wryly.

Lily chuckled.  "Those are the critical issues, legally speaking.  As for the rest – does Kay have any sense of prioritizing?"

"Well, we have to see if we can get the church first," Becky said.  "That will decide the date.  And then we go from there – hall and food and dress and flowers and music and... and..."

"Breathe," Lily said.  "This can be done.  Trust me."

Scott sighed.  "There's just so much, all the sudden.  On top of everything there was before.  The apartment, and my car, and rehearsals and packing and Becky's exam and..."

"This can be done," Lily repeated calmly.  "I'll meet with Kay tomorrow and we'll set up a list, prioritize, divide things up.  Don't worry.  This can be done."

"Don't you have to go to work?" Becky asked.

Lily hesitated.  "I'm on vacation."

"And you're going to spend your whole vacation planning our wedding?" Scott said.  "We can't ask you to do that."

"Scott, it's one in the morning and I'm here alone.  Believe me, I have nothing better to do."

"Still..."

"When's Kay coming back?" Lily asked.

"Tomorrow evening," Becky answered

"You're going to the church in the morning?"

"Yes.  I don't think it will do much good, though.  I know they're booked."

"I'll go with you, if you want.  I can be very persuasive."

"Can you persuade my mother to let us have a small wedding?" Scott pleaded hopelessly.

"I'm sure I could," Lily answered serenely.  "But I doubt you'd like my methods."

* * * * *

"You look like hell," Joe Bradley said in the morning.

Scott took out his violin and tucked the case under his chair.  "Long night."

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?"

"Fiancée.  And mother."

"Ahh.  Set a date yet?"

"Probably a week from Saturday."

Joe whistled.  "Damn."

Scott shook his head.  "It's going to be an adventure," he said gloomily.

* * * * *

"Mira?"

"Robert.  Are you safe?"

"I am safe," Robert assured her.  "I am so very sorry about last night."

"And well you should be," Mira returned.  "The show was positively wonderful."

McCall smiled fondly, though she couldn't see him over the phone.  "I'm glad you enjoyed it, anyhow."

"I'd go again, if you'd like to see it."

"I would like that very much," Robert answered.  "If it's still there in two weeks."

"Mmm.  Bad case?"

"The worst.  Scott's getting married."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mira said.  "They're such a lovely couple, Robert.  Always so considerate of each other.  Have they decided when?"

"A week from Saturday."

There was a pause.  "Oh."

"And Sunday night they're leaving on a six-month tour of Europe."

"Oh, but that is wonderful.  I'm so happy for them."

Robert sighed.  "I am, too.  But it's going to be a hellish couple of weeks.  Kay's taken full charge of the arrangements."

"Oh, my poor Robert.  I'm so sorry.  How can I help?"

"You can forgive me for last night.  This came up so suddenly, I completely forgot."

Mira laughed.  "I forgive you.  You can make it up to me after the wedding."

"Thank you.  You will go with me, won't you?"

"To the wedding?"

"Well, yes."

"Me?"

McCall laughed.  "Mira, my dear, you are my lady.  I would like very much to have you with me at my son's wedding."

"I'd love to be there with you."

"Thank you."

"I don't know what to wear."

"You're on your own on that one," Robert sighed.  "I hardly know what I'm going to wear." 

* * * * *

"I wish I could help," Rev. Tom said sincerely.  "I really do. Becky, you've been such a huge help to the church for so many things.  But this other wedding has been scheduled for over a year. I don't see how I can ask them to change it"

"We don't want you to," Becky said quickly. 

"No," Lily continued.  "We don't want to do anything that would interfere with the other wedding.  This is very last-minute, and anything at all that you can do is greatly appreciated."

The pastor eyed her thoughtfully.  "You're a professional wedding planner?  I've heard about such things, but I've never met one."

Lily shook her head, smiling.  "I'm an event planner.  This is my first wedding."  She eyed him back.  He was maybe forty, blond and blue-eyed and easy to look at.  And despite the gold ring on his left hand, he didn't mind being looked at.  "So what do you need to make this happen?"

"I... ah, it's not really a matter of money."  Rev. Tom tried not to seem offended at the notion.

"No, no," Lily answered quickly.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that it was.  Occupational hazard.  I mean, what do we need in terms of timing, logistics, that sort of thing?  There are really two separate issues here – you, and the church."

He shifted.  "They kinda go together."

Lily smiled warmly.  "The church building and you.  Let's start with you, because you're more important than the building. Becky would really like you to perform the ceremony.  Is it anywhere in the possible realm that you could do two weddings in one day?"

He considered.  "Yes.  I could.  If the timing was right.  The first wedding is at eleven, with a luncheon.  I could be free by – three-thirty?  Four?"

"Five would be better?"

"Five would be great."

Lily looked to Becky.  "Five?"

"Yes."

"Good." Lily made a note, though she didn't need to.  "It still sounds like a long day for you.  What can I do to make it easier?"

"I... huh?"

"What would you usually be doing on a Saturday evening after a wedding?"

"Oh.  Well, usually I go home and stay with the kids, finish up my sermon and let my wife get a few hours on her own.  She just, you know, shops or reads a book with a cup of tea, something like that... I know that sounds silly, but I'm so busy during the week, and then Sundays..."

He twisted his ring like it cut off circulation. 

Lily smiled warmly.  "I think it sounds wonderful."     

He blushed, as she'd expected.  "Oh."

"Is there a baby sitter that you trust?"

Tom shrugged.  "The girl up the street, but on such short notice..."

"See if she's available.  Offer double her usual rate, one time only.  We'll cover it."

"You don't have to..."

"Tom.  And what if we got a cleaning lady in for you one day during the week?  Would your wife think that was a treat or an insult?"

"Treat," he answered instantly.  "But really, you don't..."

"What about a guest speaker for Sunday?"

The reverend blinked.  "A guest speaker?  On this kind of notice?  I don't think I could..."

"I'll see what I can do on that," Lily answered.  "No promises yet, but I have an idea."

"That would be great.  We don't have much of a budget for that..."

"Tom.  This can be done.  Let me work on it."

The pastor considered.  "You know, usually I insist that couples come in for a counseling session or two.  To make sure they really know what they're committing to."

"They've lived together for more than a year," Lily pointed out, "and they still want to get married.  To each other."

He smiled wryly.  "You do have a point there."  Then, "What about the rehearsal?  I really don't see how I could do two of those in one evening."

Lily frowned gently.  "Well, I suppose we could move it up to Thursday."

"There's Men's Group Thursday," Becky countered.

"Hmmm."  Lily stood and paced one lap of the tiny office.  "It's a small party, just Becky and Scott and two attendants.  What if I could get someone else to rehearse them?  Maybe you could meet with him, go over any variations, details.  But he's already a priest; you wouldn't have to start from scratch."

"That would work.  It might not be perfect, but it would work."

Lily nodded.  "I'll talk to Nick."  She sat and made another unnecessary note.  "Now, about the church itself.  What's involved in turning around after a wedding?"

The pastor considered.  "Usually the cleaning ladies come in, sweep the floor, straighten up, check the restrooms, things like that.  The flowers are generally left until after the service on Sunday – usually the families donate the church flowers.  We'd need a new carpet runner, new candles – maybe if they got a couple extra ladies in, it could be done.  I'll ask them."

"So we can do this," Lily said.

"I... yes.  I guess we can."

"Good.  Thank you."  She stood again, shook his hand.  "You have no idea how much we appreciate this."

"I'm just glad we could work it out."

Lily produced a business card from the back of her notebook.  "This is Mr. McCall's number – Robert, the father.  And my numbers are written on the back.  We'll be in touch, but if you think of anything else you need – or anything else you want, anything at all, just let us know."

"I will."

She eyed him one more time, just to make sure he stuck with the program.  Then she took her notes and the bride-to-be and trotted off to their next assignment.

* * * * *

"Hmmm?"  Lily cranked the air conditioner onto 'high'. 

"At... for the Company.  That's what you do?  Talk people into doing things?"

Lily shrugged.  "On a good day, that's what I do."

* * * * *

"Kay's not here yet," Robert said as he let Becky into the apartment.  "Have some coffee. You look as if you could use it."

She nodded gratefully.  "Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone, a-anyhow."

McCall studied her with concern.  Becky rarely stuttered around him any more.  The strain of the previous night's dinner with Kay was visible on her wan little face as well.  Or perhaps there was another stress already; perhaps they'd decided to postpone the wedding, or cancel it all together.  But if that were the case, surely Scott would be here.  Robert put on his most reassuring manner. "Come, sit with me, love.  Tell me what's bothering you."

Becky smiled nervously.  "I-it's not bad, I p-promise."

"All right."

"I-I-I …" She paused, staring at the black liquid in her mug for strength.  "I... you know about my... family."