The majority of that day went fairly smoothly, with her duties going between continuing working on the front parlor, which was slowly being whittled down to a usable condition, and making lunch for the crew because, thankfully, Ella and Frank had gone out to the hardware store to buy some paint for the gazebo.

After rustling up a lunch of edible BLT sandwiches and cans of tomato soup, Matt followed her back into the parlor to lend a hand with pulling out the filthy old area rug that was covering most of the floor. And since they were alone, she used that opportunity to fill him on what had happened that morning, though she did leave out one detail that was absolutely none of his concern.

Well, actually, none of it was really Matt Tanner's concern, but she felt that he was in thick of things with her at that point, so it seemed that keeping him apprised was the right and fair thing to do.

Matt was not overly thrilled that more pills had shown up in her bedroom and he backed up Julian's assessment that if she had no idea what she was doing in her sleep, she could very well swallow any amount of pills and simply never wake up.

Somehow, Matt's concern over her safety seemed to weigh more heavily on her than Julian's and her want to find that damnable overnight bag increased to a rather urgent level.

But, first, she and Matt had to tackle the area rug. And that project seemed to take forever, because they had to move around all the heavy furniture in the room and then wrestle to roll up the stained and smelly thing, which had become stuck to the floor beneath.

It was a disgusting and exhausting job and it filled the entire room and all the air in it with dust and stench. Pulling the sticky thing up had taken all the strength that both she and Matt possessed and as they dragged it through the house and out to the massive garbage pile, she was about ninety percent certain that she'd slipped a disk and partially dislocated her left shoulder.

The thing was finally removed, though, but it had left behind an incredible amount of burlap backing adhered to the floor boards and that backing was even more filthy and fetid the actual rug. Figuring that task could take a small eternity, she left Matt on his knees with a scraper and she went off to continue the search for the missing overnight bag.

However, a dozen boxes later, she admitted defeat and decided to go straight to the source of the matter. She found Ella in the kitchen with Frank, both of them happily discussing their haul from the hardware store, which was all piled up on the kitchen table. Looking at the paint cans and various and sundry items, she began to worry about what sorts of trouble her father could get into. Any of the objects in that pile could feasibly wind up killing the man.

"Mom, do you know where the overnight bag with all my medications might be?" she asked, trying to effect a fine non-chalance.

"Not right off hand," Ella replied, keeping her back to Clydie. "Its stuffed into a box someplace."

"Do you need something out of there, Pumpkin?" wondered Frank, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"No. I was just wondering where its at. I haven't seen it since we got here," she shrugged.

"Those movers weren't the brightest bunch, so everything's all mixed up in the boxes. It could take days to find it," Ella stated, stepping up to the table to fiddle with the stuff there. "I have a bottle of sleeping pills in my purse, if you need one for tonight."

"That's okay. I don't need anything. I'm sure it'll turn up sooner or later," she replied, taking a step backward toward the door and trying not to feel the sting of her mother's refusal to even look at her.

"I'm gonna start painting the gazebo in a few minutes. Do you want to give your old man a hand?" Frank asked in a conciliatory tone.

"Frank, you are not! Its about to rain!" Ella scolded.

"Well, then we'll wait until the rain stops," Frank returned.

"You can't paint wet wood, Frank. The paint will bubble up and peel right off. You'll have to wait for a more suitable day," Ella patiently explained.

"But, I want to get started today. It looks so plain sitting out there like that," Frank said, sounding dejected. "And I thought this could be a project for me and Clydie."

"It can wait until the weather is better. Clydie will still be here and so will the gazebo."

"I'll help whenever you want," Clydie assured her dad. "But, I...I kind of have dinner plans this evening."

That announcement brought Ella's gaze whipping around to her. "You have dinner plans? Really!" she gushed, sounding as if someone had just told she'd won the lottery.

"Who do you have plans with?" asked Frank, a bit less enthusiastic because he likely already had an inkling.

"Julian," she told him and Ella's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Clydie, that's wonderful!" Ella exclaimed, all but jumping up and down. "You haven't been on a date in so long! I'm so excited for you! Julian is so handsome! And that accent of his!"

Frank obviously was not sharing in his wife's enthusiasm, so he kept his mouth firmly closed.

"Do you want me to help you pick out something to wear?" was Ella's question.

She didn't think she'd need to wear anything special for supper in someone's kitchen, but her mother wasn't ignoring or hating her, so what else could she say? "Sure. He's coming about five, so there's nno hurry, though."

"That'll give us plenty of time to do your hair and makeup!" Ella beamed.

Clydie nodded, trying to force a smile. "Alright. I-I'm going to get back to work for a while."

Spinning on her heel, she made for the door at what she hoped was a natural pace despite the fact that she really wanted to break into a sprint. Her mother was so happy...and so gung-ho...that it seemed as if she were getting married off rather than just going a few houses down to have a bite of supper.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Matt, after Ella had joined them in the parlor, was sent back to the kitchen to help his dad try out the wallpaper steamer that Ella had bought, which was supposed to make removing the stuff easier, and that left Clydie alone with the woman.

While she continued to scrape away at the floor and Ella set about washing down the walls, her mother decided to chat nonstop, first about Julian, and then about Frank, regaling her with the tale of how they'd first met and how she really hadn't like him at all. In fact, she'd found him a little geeky and weird.

Clydie listened to the Weston love saga with only one ear, nodding and giving minimal responses when it was appropriate. She'd heard her parents' love story about a thousand times over the years, and she didn't really need to hear it again, especially seeing as how her mother was managing to intimate that Julian Donovan might be the other half of her own love story. But, at least her mom seemed to have gotten past her upset, even if temporarily, so she tried to smile and suffer through it.

At three o'clock on the dot, she and Ella clocked out to ensure they'd have time to get her ready for Julian. After a nice, long shower, she stepped out of the bathroom to find that Ella had laid out several outfits onto the bed and each one of those outfits happened to be wildly inappropriate for a casual supper date.

But, she didn't want to do anything to upset her mother all over again, so she stood by like a mannequin in a store window and allowed Ella to dress and re-dress her in all the outfits. Frankly, she was more of an easy going, casual sort of girl. Jeans and tee shirts were more in her comfort zone. Tight, short, and revealing had been more in Sam's wheel house. The girl had liked to dress as sexy as she could most of the time, much to Frank's dismay. So, the outfit that Ella finally settled on was one that would have suited her sister to a tee, but it made her feel rather like she was...for sale.

It was a short black skirt that barely covered her decently—which had come from the stash of clothes that Sam had talked her into buying over the years but that she'd never gotten around to bothering with wearing—a tight black tank top, and a pair of ankle booties with a moderate heel. Since it was chilly out, Ella had picked a black cardigan that would, in no way, keep her warm, but it covered her arms and didn't mask her cleavage, which was on full display.

Once the outfit was on, Ella brought in all the tools necessary to do her hair and after half an hour, she had a mass of curls hanging down her back and around her face, reminding her of a stripper wig she'd seen some girls wearing at Halloween...because they'd been dressed like strippers. Which was exactly how she looked. Like someone who'd decided that Halloween had come early and to celebrate, she'd decided to get done up as...a stripper.

Her look was finished off by the layer of makeup that Ella slathered on her face, red lipstick, dark eye shadow, some sort of glitter that came in a little squirt bottle, and dangly silver earrings, which were tossed in at the last moment as icing on the cake. And then she was declared ready.

Ella, hugely pleased with her efforts, left the room to take all the hair products and makeup back to her own bathroom, giving Clydie a chance to study her reflection in the old dresser mirror. She looked so much like a stripper that it would have been laughable had it not been so mortifying. It really seemed that Ella Weston was putting her daughter on the market and hoping that Julian Donovan was going to step in and make an offer.

She couldn't take any of the stuff off and risk hurting her mom's feelings, but she wasn't about to spend an entire evening dressed like she should have been working a pole, so she hurried to her closet, grabbed her messenger bag, and quickly stuffed in a change of clothes, along with Julian's sweater, and then rushed down to the kitchen, opened the back door, and sat the bag just outside.

That done, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a seat at the table to wait for Julian. A few minutes later, her parents both appeared, their arms around each other, whispering and giggling like two teenagers.

"Doesn't Clydie look pretty, Frank?" Ella asked when they both spotted her sitting there.

Frank's gaze flickered over to Clydie and she saw his left eye tick slightly. "She looks very pretty," he lied.

He did not think she looked pretty. He thought she looked like a stripper, he just didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

"Julian is going to be speechless when he sees you!" Ella declared, walking toward the fridge.

She could not disagree with that statement. Julian probably was going to be speechless, considering that he'd left a nineteen year old girl that morning, only to come back to a thirty five year old working girl that evening.

"I want you to watch out for yourself, Clydie," Frank stated, dropping down at the table. "Make sure you have your phone with you and get out of the situation if you start to feel uncomfortable."

"Frank, she'll be fine," Ella said complacently. "She's just down the beach and she can handle herself."

Frank did not seem even slightly convinced by his wife's assurances. "I'm serious, Clydie. Julian Donovan is a grown man and who knows what he might be expecting from you. If he tries to do anything that you don't want him to do, leave and come straight back home. Okay?"

Clydie nodded, feeling rather glad that at least one of her parents was worried about her. "I'll be fine," she told her father. "Julian seems nice. You don't have to worry."

She'd stayed all night on his sofa, he'd been practically naked in her bed, and he hadn't forced her to do anything she hadn't been a willing party to, so she felt she could trust the man, as far as that went.

"Its my job to worry," was Frank's riposte. "I don't care how old you are, you're my daughter. I want to make sure you're safe."

"I know," she answered, feeling an odd waft of sadness creeping over her.

Just as the air in the room began to grow heavy, a knock sounded at the back door, flooding Clydie with relief. She was out of her chair and hurrying to answer, wanting to be out of the house as quickly as possible.

She found Julian standing there in the dusk, umbrella in hand, looking so handsome and windblown that it nearly took her breath. As she stepped back to allow him to enter the room, his gaze swept her up and down and his eyes went wide with visible surprise, which brought a flood of heat rushing up into her cheeks. Damn. She really did look like a stripper.

"Good evening, Julian!" Ella chirped as she joined Frank at the table. "You're looking handsome! And you're right on time!"

Julian smiled at the woman, but only barely taking his eyes off Clydie. "Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't want to keep Clydie waiting."

"Well, you two have fun," said Ella, wiggling her fingers at them.

"Do you have your phone and house key?" Frank questioned in a very parental tone.

Clydie patted the pocket of her too thin, too short cardigan. "I have everything."

"Shall we, then? I've got supper in the oven and I'd hate to catch the house on fire," Julian stated, offering her his arm.

She accepted the gesture and they stepped out into the dusk, Julian closing the door behind them, pausing long enough to unfurl the umbrella to stave off the mist that was coming down from the darkening sky.

"You look...different, Clydie," he said. "Pretty, but...different."

"I look like a stripper. You can say it," she announced, letting go of his arm and stepping over to the pile of garbage bags to retrieve her purse.

"Uh, no. I cannot say that. And I wasn't thinking that, anyway," Julian assured as she rejoined him. "You just look a little...fancy."

"Sleazy," she corrected as she placed her bag across herself and once again took hold of his arm. "This is my mother's idea of how I should dress for supper."

"Well, God bless her, but its just the two of us in my kitchen," he needlessly pointed out as they started across the patio and out into the garden. "Are you going to be comfortable in that?"

"Nope. That's why I brought a change of clothes," she revealed, patting the messenger bag at her side.

Julian chuckled, adjusting the umbrella against the gusting wind. "So, how did the rest of your day go?"

Clydie, already shivering from the cold, damp wind gusting by, tried to move closer to him in an effort to find warmth. "Pretty good. Matt and I did a lot of work in the parlor."

"Did you find the rest of those pills?" he questioned as they made it down the steps and out onto the sand...where her heels immediately began to sink in.

"No. I asked my parents and they haven't seen them. I'll keep looking, though."

"Good. Keep at it until they turn up," was Julian's word as he picked up the pace, obviously worried that she was freezing in her skimpy outfit, which she was.

She was hustled down the sand at a steady clip as the wind and the light rain gusted and by the time Julian's house came into view, she was fairly certain she was nearing hypothermia. Again. As she was finally whisked through the patio door and into the light and warmth that flooded in on her, she couldn't help but let out a sound of relief. She didn't want to hurt her mother's feelings, but the next time the woman offered to dress her, she was going to have to decline. She'd rather look like a frump and be warm than her mother's idea of sexy and wind up freezing to death.

"Would you like something warm to drink? I can make you some coffee. Or I have a pitcher of tea in the fridge. I can heat you up a cup?" asked Julian, closing the umbrella and setting it by the sliding door.

"Uh, I'll take some tea, I guess," she replied past her numb lips. "C-can I use your bathroom?"

"Absolutely. You can use the one upstairs. It might be more comfortable for you," Julian said as he made for the cabinet by the fridge. "Its just through the master, upstairs, down the hall to the left."

Nodding, she hurried forward on legs that felt frozen and awkward, making her way out of the kitchen and along the dim hallway and up the stairway toward the end. She found Julian's bedroom at the end of a short hall, rushing through the darkened space and feeling rather glad that she couldn't really see anything. Once in the bathroom, she flipped the light on and locked the door and immediately began discarding the useless clothes that weren't good for anything other than giving a girl pneumonia.

Within ten minutes, she was changed into a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, her tennis shoes, and Julian's sweater, had her face washed clean, the earrings removed, and her mountain of hair pulled back into a ponytail. That done, she felt ten pounds lighter and at least a decade younger.

As she shoved her clothes into her messenger bag, she couldn't help but notice that Julian lived like a nineteen year old frat boy. But for the essentials, the bathroom was as bare as the kitchen and living room. She really didn't see how men could stand being...men. Who would want to live in a place where there was nothing around to look at? A picture or a knick-knack or anything interesting at all?

Exiting the bathroom and making her way back to the kitchen, she found Julian pulling something from the oven. Dropping her bag by the table, she started over to help him and he turned to her, looking her up and down and allowing a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"You look much better," he said in an appreciative tone.

"Thank you. I feel better," she replied. "Can I help with anything?"

"I've got it covered. You just sit and drink your tea," came the response and she obeyed the order given, taking a seat in the chair with the steaming mug in front of it.

She didn't typically drink hot tea, but she was game, so she took up the mug and helped herself to a careful sip of the warm liquid...and immediately felt her throat choke closed. Good god! What in the name of crap had Julian Donovan give her!

For a long moment, she sat frozen, trying not to spit the foul, bitter liquid in her mouth back out, but she didn't think she could swallow it!

"Clydie? Do you not like the tea?" Julian wondered.

Like it? How could she like something that tasted like...pigwash! Yeah, pigwash!

Despite that, she forced the mouthful down her throat, trying not to gag and then trying to suppress the shiver that coursed through her. "Its not bad," she wheezed, wondering how she was ever going to get the bitterness off her tongue.

"Would some sugar make it go down a little smoother for you?" Julian wondered, clinking things around.

She doubted all the sugar in the world would make it go down smoother, but she'd try it because she didn't want to hurt his feelings. But, as a second wave of bitterness wafted up the back of her throat, it was abruptly decided that Julian's feelings would just have to take the hit. If he wanted her to drink his "tea" then he was going to have to bear what she was about to do it.

"Do you have ice?" she asked, rising from the table and taking her mug of toxic waste-water with her.

"I think there's a tray in the freezer?" Julian responded, taking a plastic container filled with sugar from the cabinet.

Opening the freezer, which contained one ice cube tray and a couple of bottles of alcohol, she then took a peek in the fridge, spying the pitcher of "tea" sitting on a shelf along with a pizza box, some Chinese takeout containers, and a few bottles of water.

Making the decision to go the whole hog, she pulled out the pitcher and with the ice and sugar at her disposal, she sat the mug of hot waste-water aside and tried to whip up something she could drink. And after about ten tablespoons of sugar added to the glass Julian handed her, she had a reasonable facsimile of sweet tea.

"What did you make?" Julian wondered as she sipped the icy concoction that was now sweet enough to make her molars ache.

Though, it was rather a bit grainy, considering that the tea hadn't been boiled first, but it was tolerable, nonetheless.

"Sweet tea. Sort of," she responded, taking another gulp.

"Sweet tea?" the man repeated. "What is sweet tea?"

Clydie couldn't help but gape at Julian. "Its just...sweet...tea. You're from the South? Don't ya'll drink sweet tea?"

Julian shrugged. "We drink iced tea. Some people add a sugar packet here or there."

"That's not sweet tea," she opined. "This is...not sweet tea, either, but its kind of close. Try it."

He took the glass she held out to him and helped himself to a tentative swig, scrunching up his face as the stuff hit his tongue. "For the love of hell, that's disgusting! Its just...its just...kind of wet, kind of melted sugar!"

"Yeah," she grinned, helping herself to another grainy sip.

"Well, take your kind of wet sugar and have a seat. Supper'll be ready in a minute," he replied, still pulling a face.

Clearly, the cowboy accent came with a different idea of what was Southern and what was not. Perhaps the hardy souls who lived out in the dry, dusty desert were too...manly...for such things as sweet tea?

Going back to the table, she took her seat and Julian joined her shortly, bringing quite a spread with him. To her surprise, she was being offered a fresh green salad, baked stuffed shells, roasted broccoli, and garlic bread.

"You made this?" she asked, rather impressed yet hoping against hope that it tasted as good as it looked and smelled.

She'd been fooled before...

"Do you want the truth or a self-serving lie?" came the question as Julian began filling a paper plate for her.

"The truth."

"Well, I was going to cook for you, but then I remembered I really don't know how to cook much more than toast and eggs, so I went to the store and had the deli make us something edible," he revealed and she felt herself relax a fraction.

If the food had come from a supermarket deli, then she didn't have to be in fear of her life. "That's fine. It looks really good!"

"Eat up, then," Julian said as he handed her the plate and began filling up one for himself. "And you can tell me some more about yourself while we dine and sup."

"I've told you everything there is to tell," she said, picking up her plastic fork and digging in. "Why don't you tell me about you?"

She was actually curious about the handsome man with the rugged features and the dripping accent that seemed to come and go with his mood.

"Alright. But, brace yourself for a very long and mundane tale, Miss Weston," he grinned, taking a seat and turning his unreadable eyes to her.

"You've seen what my life is like, Mr. Donovan. I really don't mind things that are boring and mundane."

A degree of sympathy washed over Julian's face. "Well, boring and mundane is exactly what you're going to get."