Gavin smiled painfully, wincing, as they all stepped forward to shake hands. Only Denise let hers linger, the slight twitch of a smile on her lips.

"The girls are here for a luncheon meeting." Felicity said, calmly. "Listen, why don't you just go out to the deck, I'll bring some drinks and snacks and you can get comfortable while we change."

"You're more than welcome to join us, Gally." Ellen suggested, in a kindly display of manners.

"Oh no, I don't think—"

"Oh please," Patty said, "maybe we can bounce some ideas off you... you know, being impartial and all."

Gavin felt the sweat building under his arms, and he looked to his wife for an escape.

"I don't think she really has time... uh, she has another appointment, don't you Gal? She's got a very busy schedule in town this month." He nodded emphatically, grasping at the straw.

"Is it close by, I didn't see another car in the drive?" Denise beamed, maliciously.

"Uh no! She's taking a cab." Felicity shrugged at his desperate look. "Why don't you run up and change, I'll get the girls settled and be right up." Gavin grimaced his way past the trio and down the hall, the room whirling as he tripped and scrambled up the stairs to the safety of his bathroom.

"Let me call Ambrose for her, he's absolutely the best taxi service in town." Ellen looked about for the phone, spotting one on the table in the hall.

"Oh... oh, well- that's awfully kind, I... okay."

"No trouble. I'll leave you his number too, just in case. We all use Ambrose exclusively, he's sort of a legend in Ashton Hills." Ellen marched to phone and dialed.

"Let's all go out on the deck," Felicity felt her excitement rising, "I've got to put a few things together in the kitchen and I'll be right out."

******

"Gavin, I'm so sorry," she said, helping him out of the gown, "but what could I do?"

"What could you do? What the hell am I going to do? A taxi!"

"She just called before I could think of anything to say." Felicity scrubbed her hair dry and slipped off the robe, pulling on a pair of slacks and a fancy t-shirt.

"You've got to do something," he pleaded, cringing on the edge of the bed in his underwear.

"Here," she said, grabbing a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, "you can wear these. But hurry, the cab'll be here any minute."

"I have my own clothes!" A car horn sounded in the driveway.

"No time, Gavin, the cabs here."

"But- but- what am I going TO DO? Where the hell can I go in a cab?" He banged his fists against the wig in despair, as she yanked the shoes from his feet.

"Just go down to- to... the playhouse, I don't know. Maybe you can hide in there and I'll pick you up after they've gone." She began frantically pulling the jeans over his hips. "Help me Gavin, for God's sake."

"I can't- let me at least get this other stuff off." The horn sounded again.

"No time, now stand up!" Together they pulled the jeans up and, with great effort, did up the button and the zipper. Gavin gasped, barely able to move in the tight denim.

"I can't breathe!" He muttered, ducking as she yanked the sweatshirt over his head.

Moving at warp speed, Felicity tossed a pair of wedge-heeled sandals at him, found a shoulder bag and stuffed it with his wallet and keys, along with a handful of makeup articles from her dresser, and helped him bend down while he slipped on the shoes. The horn sounded again—louder.

"You'll be fine, honey," she kissed his cheek and saw him downstairs, out to the drive and shoved him into the back of the cab. "Call me in a couple of hours." She slammed the door and stood back, arms crossed.

"But I don't have my cell—"

The cab jolted out of the drive and into the street, screeching away as the ruins of Gavin's life loomed large, in contrast to the dwindling view of his wife.

"Where to then, darlin'?" Ambrose said into his mirror, admiring his attractive passenger.

*****

Cal Amarca glanced up and smiled as he saw Melaine striding through the bank, waving pleasantly to the tellers, blonde hair bouncing lightly on her bare shoulders. He admired her confident posture and the youthful manner she exuded; not too shabby, he thought, for a woman in her late forties. He stood and went to the office window overlooking the lobby, closing the blinds slowly as she paused to say something to Tilley, his secretary.

The door opened and she slipped inside, eyes sparkling and a smile to warm the world.

"Hi Cal," She said, setting her purse by the chair in front of his desk, and handing him a file folder.

"Good morning, Mrs. Braithwaite, don't you look chipper this morning." He accepted the folder letting his eyes stray over the smooth skin of her shoulders and neck. "What have we here?"

"It's a draft of the expected budget for the Jubilee. Carl Fetters suggested you give it a once over. Make sure we're not overextending the theatre account." She sat in the chair and crossed her legs.

"How is old Carl?" He asked, returning to his own seat behind the desk.

"As dogged as ever," she laughed, running a hand down her leg.

"Am I going to see less of you here now that you're busy with this anniversary business?"

"I don't imagine I will have much time for home budgeting until it's all over." She said wistfully.

"I guess Milo's up to his stuffy neck in it too."

A small crease spoiled her calm features. "Milo is Milo, Cal. He's not really a bad guy... just- just so self-absorbed."

He got up and rounded the desk, taking her hands. "After the way he's deceived you, I would hardly call him a good guy." She blushed and looked down, leaving her hands in his. Her own behaviour wouldn't win any prizes for loyalty.

"I'd like to see you again," he said, pulling her to her feet. She looked over at the closed blinds and then back into his comforting eyes. "I know," he said, smiling, "the spider welcomes the fly."

Did Milo use charming ploys like this with Amanda, she wondered fleetingly? "I'm meeting my committee for coffee so..."

"So the fly escapes," He smiled again. This time, ruefully.

Melaine retrieved her hands and picked up her purse. "I'm uh, arranging for Milo to be on one of the carriages in the parade. The parade will take about an hour and then he'll be seated front row with the rest of the dignitaries for the ceremony." She watched his face as her inference took hold and grew.

"That's a long time off yet." He said.

"Well... there'll be more meetings... and running around to do." She touched her hair self-consciously. "I'll probably have to see the bank manager again... about the budget."

"I'll see that his calendar is cleared." He breathed, pulling her to him and kissing her warmly, feeling her sag slightly in his arms.

The blinds opened again and he watched her leave, waving goodbye to Tilley, long legs scissoring across the mosaic floor. He grunted a sigh then smiled brightly as he caught Tilley frowning with displeasure toward his window.