Nola worried that she would not be able to get everything in order before the ceremony. She wanted the house and everything to be perfect for the special event. There would be many out-of-town visitors staying at the house, and all the guest rooms had to be ready. She also had to ready the permanent rooms for Effie, Stacey and AJ. So the last thing Nola needed was to be invited to one of Vanessa's ladies' parties. But Vanessa would not take no for an answer.

The party was to be held in a suite of rooms that Vanessa reserved at the Four Seasons in Chicago. Quint arranged for Nola and Maureen to have the newly hired driver take them to Chicago. They had heard about Vanessa's famous parties. And once Nola resigned to attending the party, she looked forward to it.

The Cristal was flowing and the bartenders mixed fragrant mojitos almost to the beat of the music. Gorgeous, young male models served the hors d'oeuvres: yellowtail and toro sushi, baby lamb chops, chicken satay, lobster shumai, spring rolls. Nola and Maureen knew many of the women through Vanessa, but few of them were what they would consider friends. Just then, Nola heard a woman whooping it up and dirty dancing with one of the waiters. Nola thought she recognized the bawdy woman with the blonde, highlighted hair in the red, sequined dress, so she moved closer to get a better look. When the woman spun around with the waiter, Nola realized it was Reva Shayne Lewis. Since during the 80s she was infamous as the slut of Springfield, Nola knew of Reva. And if the urban legend was true, Reva had danced naked in the water fountain of the Springfield towers. Nola thought her trim figure would look better in Reva's red dress and wished that she had not also worn a red, sequined dress. Reva's was slit in bad taste up to the thigh, while Nola's was more tastefully short, a few inches above the knee.

"Nola Reardon?" Reva hollered out, as she spotted Nola.

"Nola Chamberlain for some time now. Reva Lewis?" Nola reciprocated as they approached each other.

"Now, look at you," Reva enviously remarked, noticing Nola looking slimmer in her red, sequined dress. "How is that dishy husband of yours? Still running around the world like Indiana Jones?"

"Quinton is fine and still dishy," Nola added with a flourish. "Actually, we're settled now in Springfield and Santa Barbara, but I'm sure there will be some adventures we can look forward to. How is Josh?"

"He's just great. We've been married and divorced about three times since I last saw you."

"Interesting, Quinton and I are going to be renewing our vows in a few weeks."

"That explains why you are here then," Reva concluded.

"What do you mean?" Nola inquired.

"Everyone wants to look their best for a vow renewal or second or third or fourth wedding, right?"

"I'm not sure what that has to do with this party," Nola responded in confusion.

"Darlin', didn't Vanessa tell you? It's a botox party."

"A what?" Nola stammered.

"Oops, I guess I let the cat out of the bag. Vanessa probably wanted to surprise you. See those ladies waiting outside that door over there? They are waiting to go into that private room to see the doctor, and then they will come out looking years younger."

"Are you serious, they really do that at parties? I thought that was only something Karen on "Will and Grace" did."

"Oh sure, it's real popular. And Vanessa always has a top plastic surgeon, best conditions and most over the top party to go with. Nothing to worry about, I do it every couple of months, and look at me. Your husband will love it."

"I'm not sure I signed on for this. I hate needles."

"Beauty is pain, Nola." Reva sang. "A tight booty is not everything, you know." Reva adjusted the top of her dress, deliberately jiggling and revealing her larger breasts.

"But it is something," Nola boasted as she spun around in her fitted red dress. "Provera can do that to you," she cattily remarked, gesturing to Reva's ample behind, and then to her unfortunately revealed thighs, "and they have creams to help that." As Reva stood speechless, Nola looked off to find Vanessa.

Nola was not about to let Reva Shayne steal her heat ever again, and she had every intention of looking the sexiest that night and drawing the most attention, no matter what. Even if it meant going under the needle and shooting botulism directly into her face to do it, she was going to outshine Reva and be the life of the party with a smoothed out, and hopefully not expressionless, face and forehead.

"Nola, darling," Vanessa squealed. "I'm so glad you could come. I hope that Reva hasn't scared you off."

"No Vanessa, just the opposite. I was the star around here long before she showed up, and I have no intention on letting her get the upper hand again."

"Does that mean that you will be visiting the doctor?" Vanessa hopefully inquired.

"Absolutely," Nola remarked.

"I promise you'll love the results. He is the BEST. He's good friends with Colin."

"What are you two chatting about?" Maureen approached Nola and Vanessa.

"Our little sister agreed to see the good doctor," Vanessa answered.

"Ahh, I was wondering if you would be able to talk her into it," Maureen said.

"You knew about this, Maureen?" Nola gasped.

"Yes, but Vanessa wanted this to be a surprise for you as a pre-wedding gift, so I couldn't say anything," Maureen squirmed.

"A big conspiracy, I see," Nola gently chided.

"And actually, it was Reva who seemed to talk her into it," Vanessa added, enjoying Nola's competitive instincts. "Now dear, I will get you in next, because the doctor doesn't want the patients drinking before the procedure, but afterward you can partake in the delicious beverages."

Nola was the star of the party that night, and Reva went home early. The botox shots hurt, but everyone told her that within a few days she would look so refreshed, and she would be back for more. Quinton supported Nola in her decision to undergo the procedure, but also told her that she didn't need to do it. And since she was feeling and looking so confident and sexy that evening, Quinton showed his wife, in his usual way, how much he appreciated her.

The next day, Stacey arrived at Mrs. Renfield's house in Scotland. Mrs. Renfield had not been feeling well lately and had hired a nurse to help out her sister, Victoria and herself. The nurse let Stacey into the house when she arrived and directed her to the parlor where her charge was resting.

"Rennie?" Stacey quietly whispered as she approached Mrs. Renfield, unsure if she was asleep.

"Yes," Mrs. Renfield stirred, "oh, Anastasia dear, it's good to see you." Her hands shaking, Mrs. Renfield took Stacey's hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little better today, dear. But I'm not young anymore, so we just take it one day at a time."

"I understand," Stacey said with concern.

"My spirits have been quite improved since I heard the wonderful news about your parents," Rennie seemed to perk up.

"Everyone is so happy, and we can't wait for the ceremony in a few weeks. I want Daddy and Mom to meet Seamus too."

"He is such a nice young man, and I will do my best to make it. But it is a long trip for me."

"Oh no, everyone would be so disappointed if you couldn't make it, but we do understand, if you're not feeling well."

"If I can be there, dear, I certainly will be," Mrs. Renfield assured. "Your mother called me and said that they are trying to get the garden together, as best they can, this time of year."

"I'm sure you would like to get your hands on that project," Stacey chirped.

"Oh, yes, I do love my garden." Mrs. Renfield looked Stacey over, "Please sit down, dear. When I look at you, I'm so reminded of your mother when I first met her. She was just about the same age, as you are now. But there is just something so much more reserved about you, like your father always was."

"I love hearing your stories about Daddy and Mom."

"There are so many, so many . . ." Rennie drifted off to sleep for a few minutes. Stacey quietly sat with her, holding her hand, until she again started to stir.

"Nola, I'm so glad you came to see me," Rennie groggily said to Stacey.

"Rennie, it's . . . ."

"Where are Quinton and the children?" Mrs. Renfield continued.

"Rennie, it's me, Anastasia."

"Yes of course, dear. I must have been dreaming. I'm sorry. My mind has been so occupied with thoughts of your family. Have you seen your brother, Anthony James recently?"

"Not since the time that he was out here with Sarah, and we came to see you."

"I do wish that I could see that boy more often."

"He'll be at the party in Springfield. Yet another reason why you need to make it." Stacey gently tried to confirm that Rennie would attend.

Silas smugly staked out Renfield's Scottish cottage. With how easy the abduction was going to be, it almost did not seem as fun. Once the nurse left for the evening, it would just be Anastasia and the two old bags in the house, and then he would make his move. Right after dinnertime, Silas saw the perfect opportunity to easily steal into the house. The nurse and Anastasia helped Violet and Victoria to their respective rooms. A few minutes later, he saw the lights go out in both of their rooms, the nurse left in her small, rickety car and only the light in Anastasia's room remained illuminated. Silas skulked over to the window of Anastasia's guest room and watched as she unpacked some of her belongings for the weekend. Silas flashed back to over 22 years earlier when he had grabbed Nola out of the Thornway Road house under almost the same circumstances. Now he was here for the daughter.

Very quietly, Silas raised the unlocked window that days earlier had to be jimmied open; the frame had been painted shut. But the old women could barely hear anymore, making it easy for him to work the window without drawing attention to himself. As Silas was preparing to enter the house, Anastasia disappeared into her private guest bathroom, giving Silas an even larger window of time to get in without a ruckus. He patiently waited outside the bathroom. Finally Anastasia exited the bathroom, wiping her face with a towel and jumped when she spotted a smiling Silas.

"Lovely Anastasia Chamberlain," he sneered, looking her up and down.

Her heart started pounding, "Who are you? What are you doing in here?" She went to scream, but Silas grabbed her firmly, placing his grimy hands over her mouth.

"Don't scream, Anastasia. I came to see you. I'm a good friend of your filthy rich mother and father." Stacey struggled a bit against his surprising strength. "A feisty one, just like your old mother. Now calm down, so that I don't have to do anything drastic. And besides, how are those two old bags going to help you. We both know they wouldn't hear a freight train going through here. If you promise not to scream, I'll remove my hand. Nod if you understand."

Through her welling up tears, Stacey nodded her head as Silas dropped his hand. He spun her around to face him, gripping her hands tightly around her back.

"Who are you?" she stammered.

"Don't you know," he cruelly teased, breathing closely in her face.

"No, I have never seen you before," Stacey whimpered, turning her face from his whiskey infused breath.

"You sure do look a lot like your dear mother. But there is something very different about you, a sophistication that she does not have. It must be from growing up with all that Chamberlain money."

"Who are you? And how do you know my parents?"

"I'm Silas Crocker. And I know that stiff, Quinton and that kook, Nola from way back when you were just a little baby girl and even before."

"Silas Crocker," she said knowingly.

"See, I knew you would know me. A bright, young woman going to Oxford, of course you know me."

"What are you going to do?" she said through her tears

"I have some nice plans for us, Anastasia. The place might not be as luxurious as what you are used to at your daddy's house in California, but it will do for us."

"If you want money, my father would give you whatever you want," she pleaded.

"Of that, I have no doubt, lovely Anastasia. I, however, have no interest in money, but in revenge."

"Please, don't hurt me," Stacey pleaded.

"I have really enjoyed watching you. That boyfriend of yours being around was giving me some problems. But when I found out you would be visiting old Violet, I knew I would finally get my opportunity to make your acquaintance."

"You've been watching me?"

"Oh yes, what do you think your Daddy," he sarcastically emphasized, "would think if he knew his little girl was all but shacking up with that good looking, Irish lad? You must have the same lustful nature as your mother."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Enough chatting, Miss Chamberlain. It must be nice for a girl of such simple and tawdry birth to take such a prestigious name."

Stacey looked at Silas even more fearfully, as he made this last very personal remark. He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and gagged her with it. Then he tied her hands behind her back with another one.

"Yes Anastasia, I know quite a bit about you. Don't underestimate me. And sorry about this rag in your mouth, but I can't take any chances as we get out of here."

Silas audaciously led Anastasia into the hallway of the cottage and right out the front door, having not one bit of fear that Violet or Victoria would have any idea what was going on until the morning.

The next day, the nurse arrived early in the morning to get Violet and Victoria ready for their morning activities. The nurse made a light breakfast for the ladies and then took them for their daily walk around the grounds. When they came back and Anastasia was still not out of her room, they assumed the girl was exhausted and sleeping late. After a few more hours, Violet started to think that it was unlike Anastasia to sleep so late when her visit was so short.

"Jane, can you possibly check on Anastasia, to see if she's all right?" Violet asked the nurse.

"Of course, Mrs. Renfield," Jane nodded and headed off to Anastasia's room.

A few minutes later, she was back with a confused expression on her face. "Mrs. Renfield, Anastasia is not in her room."

"What do you mean she's not in her room?" Violet queried.

"She's not there. Her bed is completely made up, and her luggage looks half unpacked, and I noticed that her car is still parked outside the house."

"Maybe she took a walk?" Victoria suggested.

"I don't know. Her room was very cold. The window had been left open, and the curtains were blowing outside."

"That's very odd," Violet remarked in a concerned tone.

"Jane, could you please go outside and see if she is there. Maybe she just needed to take a walk." Victoria hoped this thought would relax her older sister. She was sure there was a simple explanation for Anastasia's absence.

Once again, Jane disappeared to look for the young girl. The sisters waited anxiously for her return, worried about young Anastasia. About 15 minutes later, Jane reappeared concerned, but with little additional information.

"She's not anywhere on the property. I even drove a little down the road to see if she had possibly walked down the road, but nothing."

"Oh dear," Violet whispered. "What could have happened to that girl? It's just not at all like her to disappear without telling anyone."

"There is one other thing. I saw some tire marks out by the bushes where the land dips and water collects." Jane was clearly concerned as she revealed this additional bit of information.

"Violet, I think you should call Quinton and Nola," Victoria suggested.

"It's so early there. They are going to be so worried and what can they do? What if it is nothing?"

"Mrs. Renfield, it seems that something has happened to her," Jane added.

"Could it be Silas Crocker?" Violet meant to say it to herself, but said it loud enough for Jane and even Victoria to hear.

"Silas Crocker?" Victoria gasped. "You need to call Quinton."

When the phone rang, Quinton and Nola were peacefully sleeping, nestled together in their half renovated master bedroom. Quinton stirred first and reached his hand out from under the downy comforter.

"Hello," Quinton groggily answered, as Nola started to stir as well.

"Quinton, it's Violet."

"Is everything okay? It's so early here."

"I'm so sorry, but I don't know if everything is okay. Our nurse, Jane went to check on Anastasia when it started to get late, and she had not gotten up yet, but she was not there."

"What do you mean?" The tension in Quint's voice rose, "She's not there?"

Nola nudged Quint and whispered in his ear, "Is something wrong?"

"Mrs. Renfield, please send Jane back into Stacey's room one more time to make sure she's not in the bathroom or something."

"What's wrong with Stacey?" Nola nervously persisted, as she jumped nude out of the warm bed and dashed to the armoire to get something to cover up.

Quint tried to reassure both Nola and Mrs. Renfield, "I'm sure she's in the bathroom. Stacey wouldn't just leave the house without telling anyone."

"Omigod, Quinton," Nola gasped as she sat on the bed next to him. Quinton held the phone that they both could hear.

When Jane came back to report that Stacey was not in the bathroom, Mrs. Renfield started to panic and breath heavily. "Quinton, I'm worried about Silas Crocker!" Mrs. Renfield proceeded to explain the bit of information they had.

"I'm going to call Vanessa and have her get us a jet to Scotland right away. Nola and I are coming out there immediately. I also have been in regular contact with authorities since what Silas did to Nola and Olivia, and I will call them as well."

"I'm so sorry, Quinton. I don't know how this happened." Violet started to break down.

"We don't know for sure that this has anything to do with Silas Crocker," Nola hopefully added. "Maybe she's just walking somewhere that Jane didn't look."

Quinton called Vanessa immediately after he got off the phone with Mrs. Renfield. As expected, Vanessa was also frantic and insisted on flying with Quinton and Nola to Scotland. She told them to meet her at the airport in an hour and that she would have the jet ready to go. Quint informed the authorities in the U.S. and in Scotland that he had reason to believe that Silas Crocker, going under an alias, had kidnapped his 23 year-old daughter, Anastasia Louise Chamberlain while she was staying in Scotland with a close family friend.

Silas had taken Anastasia to a deserted cabin several hours north in Scotland. He had met with an accomplice on his way to the cabin to switch to another vehicle. The cabin had no heat, but Silas irregularly kept a fire going in the fireplace. Stacey sat bound and gagged to a chair by a makeshift kitchen table. Silas swigged whisky right out of a bottle of Jack Daniels as he gazed at Anastasia across the table. His head bobbed back in sleep, but then he would catch himself and snap to attention.

"You know, Nola," he slurred. "You won't ever know how much I've missed you over the years."

Anastasia struggled a bit. She thought her best chance to get away from Silas was when he was disoriented and drunk like this.

"Quinton has ruined my life. But I still think, Nola, that you and I could have something really special together. If only you would give us a chance. Just give us a chance." And with that, Silas passed out.

Nola and Quinton boarded the private jet that Vanessa had arranged for. Vanessa was already on board and warmly embraced her family.

"Be strong. Anastasia is going to be just fine. We will be there in a few hours. I also spoke with some of the people I know in the UK, and everyone will be looking for our girl."

"Vanessa, thank you so much," Quinton could barely hold back his tears.

"She's going to be fine. I'm sure it was just some misunderstanding. You know that Mrs. Renfield is getting very forgetful." Nola suggested, trying to be resolute for Quint's sake.

"Did you try calling her on her cell phone?" Vanessa asked.

"Yes, we tried that after speaking with Mrs. Renfield, but apparently she left it behind and it rang in her room until the nurse, Jane picked it up." Nola knew this did not sound good at all, but she had to believe that her daughter would be safe. And she had to be strong for Quinton who was a wreck ever since finding out about her disappearance.

The seven hour plane trip to Scotland felt interminable. Vanessa was on the phone much of the time, making arrangements. She wanted to take as much of the burden off Nola and Quinton.

"This is Vanessa Chamberlain from Chicago . . . . . Yes, my late-father is Henry Chamberlain . . . My niece has come up missing . . . She was staying with an elderly family friend, Mrs. Violet Renfield, near the coast in Edinburgh . . . Her name is Anastasia Louise Chamberlain. She's 23 years old, 5'3" tall, about 115 pounds, long auburn hair, brown eyes, fair complexion, attractive. She's very well spoken, PhD candidate at Oxford, conservative, also goes by the name Stacey. We suspect a known felon by the name of Silas Crocker, who goes by several aliases, has abducted her. He was incorrectly pronounced dead in 1983 . . . . There will be a $500,000 reward for anyone who provides us with information that leads to her return."

Quint interrupted and corrected his sister, "$1,000,000."

"I'm sorry; it's a $1,000,000 reward . . . . Yes, I can hold on." Vanessa was frantic about Stacey, but could only imagine how worried Quint and Nola were.

Nola, Quinton and Vanessa arrived at Mrs. Renfield's country home about eight hours after leaving Springfield. It had been well over a year since either Quint or Nola had seen Mrs. Renfield. It was always a shock to both of them how old and frail she seemed. The Scotland police had arrived many hours earlier and already deemed much of the house a crime scene. They all quickly made the requisite greetings, as one of the officers made his way into the foyer.

"Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain?" the officer directed at the three new visitors.

"I am Quinton Chamberlain," Quinton held out his hand to the officer. "This is my sister, Vanessa Chamberlain and my wife, Nola Chamberlain. Anastasia is our daughter."

The two women also shook hands with the officer.

"Do you have any news for us, officer," Nola inquired.

"Yes, ma'am we do. There definitely was an intruder that entered the house through the window in your daughter's guest room. There were tool marks that indicated he used a tool to pry open the window that appeared to have been painted shut over the years. There were footprints outside the window as well, and we have taken samples of everything. And the intruder did not seem to be concerned about leaving behind evidence of his identity. We found many whole and clear fingerprints. They are being run now through the computer for a match."

"I was told by some of my contacts at the Scottish embassy that top priority would be given to this search," Vanessa interjected.

"Yes, of course. The Renfields have been an important part of this community for many years, and your father, Henry Chamberlain has also done a lot for Edinburgh as has Mr. Chamberlain, here."

"Is there any information at this time to tie this to Silas Crocker?" Quint asked in frustration.

"Nothing specific at this time, sir. But it was definitely a man from all the evidence we have seen, and we should have those print results very soon." Just then, the officer's cell phone rang. "Excuse me, I need to take this." He answered the phone and stepped outside for privacy.

Within a few minutes, the officer reentered the house, having finished up his phone call. "So we do have some information for you. The finger prints have come back as the prints of Silas Crocker."

"That bastard!! Now he's trying to hurt my daughter too." Quint blew up. Vanessa tried to relax her brother.

"I'm very sorry, sir. However, clearly he is using some other identity. There is no information that anyone named Silas Crocker or Ryan Wayne entered Britain in the last few weeks. I understand that several weeks ago he was in America during an incident with Mrs. Chamberlain?"

"Yes, officer, he held my wife and our niece hostage in our home. But then he got away." Quinton added, still fuming.

"Mrs. Chamberlain, not to bring back a bad memory, but can you tell me whatever you can remember about Mr. Crocker's current appearance and anything else that might help us?"

"I hate to think about him, but he's about mid 50s and looks maybe a little older. He has light brown hair and it's thinning in front and back. He's about 6'0, the same height as Quinton, I would say. I don't know maybe about 200 pounds. Maybe more, I don't know." Nola kept looking to Quinton for his approval of the details she was describing. "He was kind of husky. He's just disgusting. I don't know. I can't think about his face and his voice without feeling sick." Nola gently cried as she clutched her middle and sat down on the entranceway bench.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Chamberlain. I know this has been unpleasant for you."

"Are you feeling all right, dear?" Quinton asked his wife.

"No, not really," she said clenching her teeth, feeling nauseated and warm. Quinton brushed his fingers through Nola's hair, sat down and lovingly held her.

"Great time for one of these God damned hot flashes," Nola whispered in exasperation. "Just what I fucking need."

Vanessa sympathetically went to her sister-in-law, wanting to help her. A cell phone started to ring and everyone automatically checked themselves.

"It's Anastasia's phone," Mrs. Renfield announced, as she pulled it out of the pocket of her skirt.

"Maybe I should handle this," the officer held his hand out for the phone. "Hello? . . . No, if you have dialed the number of Anastasia Chamberlain, then you have reached the correct number . . . This is the Edinburgh police department; please tell me your name. . . . Seamus O'Hara."

"That's Stacey's boyfriend," Nola informed the officer. "We never called Seamus, that poor kid." She continued to bite her lip, holding back the nausea.

"Hold on a moment, Mr. O'Hara," the officer covered the phone. "Perhaps one of you should talk to him if he is a close friend?"

"I'll talk to him," Vanessa generously offered.

Seamus was beside himself with the news about Anastasia. He immediately packed some things and started driving to Mrs. Renfield's house in Edinburgh. Meeting Anastasia's parents and favorite aunt was not supposed to be under these circumstances, but he had to get up there as soon as possible to help in any way he could. You just have to be all right, sweetheart, he thought to himself.

Nola continued to feel ill, exhausted, and could not sleep until Vanessa gave her a valium. Vanessa urged both Quint and Nola to have something to eat even though they insisted they couldn't.

When Seamus arrived late at night, the house was mostly dark with the exception of the lights on in the parlor and in the guest room. Only one officer remained behind to make sure no evidence was tampered with. Seamus quietly tapped on the front door, not wanting to wake up the entire house. Quint made his way to the front door, knowing who to expect, but not knowing what to expect.

Quint opened the door to the young man who meant so much to his daughter, but whom he had not yet met. "Seamus?"

"Yes, Mr. Chamberlain?" Seamus shook Quint's hand.

"Come in. Everyone's asleep, so please try to be quiet."

"Of course, is there any news on Anastasia? I have been going mad ever since I spoke with Vanessa."

"We have heard nothing new about Stacey," Quint emphasized. "You're a little bit older than I thought. How old are you?"

"I'm 32, sir."

"Hmmm, I thought you were in school with Stacey."

"I am. I went back to school."

"OK, fair enough. Why don't we go back in the parlor and talk?"

Nola appeared in her robe, "Quinton?"

Quint introduced Nola and Seamus.

"Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Chamberlain," Seamus politely stated.

"Nice to finally meet you too, Seamus," Nola smiled, taken with his charming Irish accent. "I've heard so much about you."

"And me, you, Mrs. Chamberlain. Sorry that it couldn't be under more pleasant circumstances."

"I know, but please call me Nola. I must look like a wreck." Nola self-consciously fussed with her hair, immediately noticing how good looking and young Seamus was.

"You look lovely, Mrs. Chamberlain; I mean, Nola," Seamus smoothly complemented her, as Quint looked on suspiciously.

"Thank you," Nola blushed.

After the threesome chatted and set up Seamus for the night on the couch, Nola and Quint retired to the additional guest room. Quint undressed for bed; Nola took her robe off and tucked herself in.

"He seems like a very nice, young man," Nola remarked. "Clearly, he's very worried about Stacey."

"We all are," Quinton noted. "I think he's too old for Stacey."

Nola reminded her husband, "Quinton, they're the same ages as you and I were when we met."

"It was different back then."

"How was it different?" Nola pushed.

"Because I was respectful of you," Quinton responded.

"I'm sure Stacey would not be with Seamus, unless he was respectful of her."

"It just bothers me. I don't even want to think of what goes on."

"You shouldn't think about it, Quinton. Stacey is a young woman now with her own life. I know it's hard to believe, but you have to let that go. Besides you don't think anyone is good enough for her."

"No one is," Quint stated matter-of-factly. "But I understand, it's far from an ideal situation to meet him with this stress." Quint sat on the bed in his pajama bottoms.

"I know, but right now we have to focus on getting Stacey safely home." Nola massaged the tension in Quint's shoulders and back.

"I know. I know. Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?"

"I don't feel nauseous anymore."

"That's good at least," Quint sighed.

"Please, try to be nice to Seamus. I can see how upset he is. He will be a lot of help once we have more information. And Stacey really loves him, you know."

"I will try to be nice," Quint noted with resignation. "But I can't believe that you were flirting with him."

"I was not," Nola stuttered as she stopped massaging Quint.

"Yes, you were. You all but asked him to call you Mrs. Roberts."

"You mean, Mrs. Robinson," Nola couldn't help but smile a bit at Quint's pathetic attempt at a movie reference. "And I did no such thing anyway."

"All right, if you say so, but I could have swore I saw some Nola flirting going on with that young man. I know Nola flirting: a little smile, a little quiver of the lip, playing with your hair. Did he remind you a little of Kelly Nelson?"

"Kelly Nelson?" Nola gasped. "Why are you always so jealous about that ancient history?"

"I'm not jealous. I just can't forget how you flirted with him when you first started working for me."

"Hmmm, well for one thing that was over 20 years ago," Nola continued to massage Quint's shoulders, "and for another thing, it's you I want and I don't think Kelly's boyfriend, Victor has anything to worry about from me."

"Right, I always forget that last part," Quint shrugged.

"I noticed, and tomorrow we will get good news about Stacey," Nola assured, as she turned Quint's head to her and kissed him.