KNOTS LANDING BEACH: Arms crossed, she stands beside her Jaguar in the parking lot. Three young surfers amble toward the station wagon in the next space. One of the teens whistles at the sight of the impeccably dressed and coiffed woman, her obvious wealth and serious demeanor so out of place. Abby ignores them and keeps her eyes on the winding road leading to the entrance. After a moment, the afternoon sun flashes off the windshield of a minivan that pulls into the lot. The driver pulls up beside Abby’s convertible and rolls down the window. Val offers a curt “hi,” her curiosity evident even in the simple greeting. “Thank you for coming,” Abby says, approaching the window. Val takes off her sunglasses, curiosity evident in her expressive eyes. “I don’t have much time. I need to run a few errands before the commencement exercises.” “None of us have much time, but you’ll want to hear this,” Abby assures in a voice sounding thin and tired. A wave of uneasiness washes over Val. She nods and pulls into the next parking space. “All right then,” she says, getting out. “You said on the phone that there was some unfinished business between us.” “Would you take a walk with me, Val?” Abby asks plaintively. “A–a walk?” she asks, puzzled. “I just said I have to get to …” She trails off as Abby starts walking toward the sand. Val covers her eyes against the sun and watches in astonishment, then concedes by following her. “Olivia had her baby,” Abby says abruptly once she is at her side. “Oh?” Val smiles in reaction to the news, but in light of Abby’s tone, delight is replaced by a sense of alarm. “… Oh. Is she all right? Is it the baby?” “She’s fine. The baby too.” “Oh.” Val watches Abby stop and bend over to remove her pumps. “Then … what is it?” Standing up straight again, Abby takes a deep breath as she shakes the sand out of her shoes. The summer sun offers no warmth, and she wishes she could reverse its course by several cycles, changing the turn of recent events. Finally, she speaks. “I know about your past with Lucky LaBrea.” Val is momentarily stunned into silence. “What? You can’t mean—How could you …” she gasps. “I haven’t breathed a word about that to anyone—” “It doesn’t matter how I know, and honestly, I wish I didn’t,” Abby cuts her off sharply. “Nothing else matters except Olivia and her baby and how we are going to make things right before it’s too late.” Val frowns. “Oh, now, is this some kind of blackmail? Because if it is, you’re too late, Ab. I’ve dealt with Lucky—and after that experience I think I could handle anything, including telling Gary about what happened all those years ago.” “This isn’t about your … ‘relationship’ with Lucky,” she replies tersely. “I wouldn’t involve you in this at all if I weren’t at the end of my rope, can’t you see that?” Some of the color returns to Val’s cheeks. “I … I don’t know when I’ve seen you in such a state,” she says. “All I’m asking is that you please just hear me out. I’ve tried to put this together by myself, but now you’re the only person who might be able to help.” “You’re … asking ME … for help?” “Believe me, the irony of this is the only thing that’s very clear,” Abby states hollowly. “It’s not for my sake—it’s for Olivia’s.” She starts walking down the beach. Val kicks off her sandals, grabs them and follows. “Hold on—You said she was OK.” “She is.” “And the baby—Is the baby healthy?” “There were some complications, but he’ll be fine,” Abby sighs. “Ohhh … a little boy. I can’t wait to see him.” She peers at her intently. “What kind of complications?” “Normally, nothing that would be considered major. But given Olivia’s situation, an Rh incompatibility with the baby’s father goes beyond being a health issue.” “Rh?” “You know what that means, don’t you? She told you Harold, and not Harvey, is the baby’s biological father, didn’t she?” “Yes, I know all about that, but … well, that’s just a strange coincidence, isn’t it?” Val asks. “The Rh factor is cause for concern with 15 percent of parents—It’s unlikely but not impossible,” Abby explains. “Olivia and Harvey have the same blood type, so if word about the incompatibility gets out, it’ll be clear to Lucky that the baby is ‘family’ to him. And that’s only half the problem.” “I wasn’t talking about that. I mean, yes, I know where you’re coming from, but … you know about Paige’s little boy, right?” Abby closes her eyes in sympathy. “I haven’t even had time to think about how to express to her and Greg how truly sorry I am. Despite our differences, I wouldn’t wish their pain on anyone.” Val takes her arm. “Abby, the Sumner baby died from Rh complications.” The blue eyes fly open. “What? I thought there was an accident.” “There was. It kept the poor little thing from being treated in time for the blood disease.” “Both babies, born within days of each other, with the same condition?” Abby thinks aloud. “Something definitely is going on.” “Oh, Abby,” Val cautions her. “This is very odd, yes, and Lucky’s an extremely powerful and dangerous man, but it can’t be anything but a coincidence.” “I don’t know what to think. Olivia shouldn’t even have had to worry about Rh disease—This was her first child. Neither should Paige, for that matter,” she adds, curiosity wrinkling her nose. “I thought it was Paige’s first pregnancy, too, but I didn’t think it was the time to press Karen for details. Paige is just distraught over it … and I know how she feels.” An image fills Abby’s mind, a memory almost 18 years old, of finding Val on this stretch of beach just before taking her to her twins. She shakes her head and dismisses the image from her thoughts. “I can’t get to the bottom of this alone,” she admits, “not in time to spare everyone a lot of heartache. I thought I had it under control. I’ve been watching Lucky for months, trying to make sure he didn’t find out Olivia’s secret.” “Lucky’s been in Knots Landing for months?!” Val exclaims. Expecting her response, Abby presses on. “Yes. And now he’s on to me. He’s bugged my hotel suite. And so, now I need your help. If not for me, for Olivia. For her baby. I don’t know, maybe even for the Sumner baby.” Shocked, Val stops and stares at her back as she continues to walk along the rocky shore. Both women’s thoughts are racing. “Abby, just what are you asking me to do?”

ON A JET DESCENDING OVER FLORIDA:

“Wake up, my lovely. We’re about to arrive.”

Val is aware of a gentle grip on her arm. She opens her eyes and turns her head to look at Lucky, whose face is inches away.

“I hated to disturb you. You had just settled down after sleeping so restlessly,” he says warmly. “But the attendant asked that we get ready.”

She blinks and pulls away, looking out the window at a patchwork of lights laid before her.

“Everything will be fine, don’t worry,” Lucky coos. “We have a perfectly smooth landing ahead.”

 

SCHULMAN & CLARK—HILLARY’S OFFICE:

Bart enters the office and hesitates as he sees the mess that litters the floor. Hand-shredded papers are strewn all over the carpet along with empty leather file folders. He looks over to Hillary, who has settled onto the couch with a sheet of paper that she has removed from the still-open wall safe. He looks at his mother in confusion as she raises her glass to him in a toast and a wicked smile purses her lips.

“What the hell happened here?” he asks.

“Bartholomew. So nice of you to stop by,” she replies, ignoring the question. “Would you like a glass of champagne? I’m in a celebratory mood.”

“Celebratory? I just picked up your voicemail about the Sumner board meeting. I thought you had that one in the bag.”

“Old news, dear. I have other ways of moving Greg Sumner into checkmate,” she replies, glancing down at the document on her lap.

“Planning to let me in on this move?” he asks, again surveying the mess on the floor.

“Perhaps,” she replies, picking up the paper and looking at Greg’s name where the father is listed on Bart’s birth certificate. “Or perhaps I’ll keep this ace up my sleeve until I really need it.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks impatiently. He notices the sheet in her hands and focuses on it. “What’s that?”

“This?” Hillary asks, feigning innocence as she displays the paper for him to see—although he’s too far away to read what it says. “Just an old scrap of paper. Call it a gift from the past. The ultimate insurance policy.”

“Are you going to stop making like the sphinx and tell me what’s going on?”

“Bart, Bart, Bart,” she sighs, shaking her head. She stands up, holding the birth certificate at her side. She walks to him and tousles his hair with her free hand, while he ducks away, shooting her an impatient look. “That was always one of your problems. A total lack of patience. Just like your … father.”

“Do you really want to go there?” he asks. “Because if we’re opening up the subject of Dad, you know there’s some questions I still want answered.”

“Patience,” she replies, stepping over to her desk and slipping the birth certificate into her top drawer. “When the time is right, you’ll know everything you need to know. But that time is not now.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m not in the mood to play your stupid little games tonight, Mother. Goodnight,” he responds, turning and walking out the door.

Hillary sits down in her desk chair, a smile on her lips. “But it’s all about the game, dear boy. And in the end, I plan to win it,” she declares. She picks up her phone and dials. “Yes, Mr. LaBrea’s suite, please … What do you mean, he’s left town? … I see. Did he indicate when he will return? … No, I’ll contact him directly … Thank you.”

She hangs up the phone and locks her hands together, admiring her blood-red nails. “What game are YOU playing, Lucky?”

 

THE SUMNER RANCH:

“It’s nice out here tonight,” Anne comments. She sits in the darkness next to Mack at the patio table, gazing at the fields and the bright stars hanging above. “It’s getting late. Do you think we should head back to town?”

“Let’s give her a little while more,” Mack replies. “I wanna be here when she wakes up.”

“She doesn’t need you to wait for her,” Greg’s voice interrupts as a light turns on from the house. They turn to see him walking out onto the patio. “I told ya I appreciate you picking her up and bringing her home, but now my wife and me need time to ourselves.”

“She needs her family,” Mack disagrees.

“I’m her family,” Greg corrects him.

“And I’m allowed to console my daughter,” Mack angrily replies, rising from his chair.

“Please, you two. Don’t make this about yourselves,” Anne pleads, “not now.”

“You’re the regular queen of selflessness, aren’t you, Annie?” Greg asks, the irritation obvious in his tone.

“Fine, if you’re just going to be mean, we’ll go. We’ll come back in the morning,” she says decisively.

“No, you won’t. You’ll go home and you’ll stay there. If Paige needs you, Paige will call you.”

“You don’t call the shots here, Sumner,” Mack says. “That baby was our grandkid. We’re grieving too, and Paige needs to know we’re here for her—for both of you if you’d stop being a jerk and let us.” Greg tries to control himself as Mack continues, “I never even knew Paige existed for most of her life. This was my chance to have a part in raising my own flesh and blood.”

“She’s done being raised. And it’s too late for you two to play the doting mommy and daddy. The baby’s gone, it’s over and wallowing in it isn’t going to help. Your being here isn’t helping anybody.”

“We need closure. And so does Paige,” Anne replies quietly. “I think we should have a funeral service for the baby.”

Greg shakes his head. “Not a good idea.”

“Like Mack said, you don’t call the shots.”

“Fine, let Paige call them,” Greg says. “If she wants that, then we’ll do it. It’s not for you to decide. Now for the last time, would you please just—”

“What’s all the commotion out here?” Paige asks groggily, walking out from the house in her nightdress.

“It’s nothing, babe. You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Greg replies, taking her hand and supporting her. “Mack and Anne were just leaving.”

“All right. Goodnight,” Paige says softly as Greg leads her back into the house.

“Goodnight, Paige. We’ll be back in the morning,” Mack calls after them, and Greg shoots back a disapproving look. Mack turns to Anne. “Come on. Let’s go.”

 

THE EWING RESIDENCE:

“Mom! Are you here?” Bobby shouts, throwing open the front door. He runs into the kitchen, then hurries back to the foyer. “Mom?!”

“I’ll check upstairs,” Gary says, climbing the steps two at a time. Meg walks in and holds the door open.

“I just don’t know where in God’s green earth she could be,” Lilimae frets as she gets to the threshold, with Karen and Betsy supporting her on either side. “Valene wouldn’t have missed the children’s graduation for anything.”

“Any sign of her?” Karen asks Bobby.

He shakes his head. “Maybe Mom came in and heard the end of Betsy’s speech. She mighta got upset and left.”

“Nonsense. She would’ve been real proud of what you did, sweetpea,” Lilimae asserts, turning to her granddaughter. “You told the truth. That’s the important thing.”

“She’s right,” Karen adds, nodding. “It was nice, the tribute you gave your brother and the message about loyalty.”

“Well, I’m not sure she’s gonna be happy about both Bobby and now me doing community service this summer before we can get our diplomas,” Betsy says uncomfortably, looking to her twin. “I just couldn’t stand up there in front of all those people and let you take the blame for what I did.”

He gives her a playful punch. “I thought Dr. Powell was gonna pop his suspenders.”

Betsy looks up to the second-floor landing. “Maybe I’ll laugh about it in, oh, about five million years, when Dad gets over it.”

Upstairs, Gary has other thoughts weighing on his mind. Standing at the foot of the bed he shares with Val, he reads a note left behind on the coverlet.

Dearest Gary, I don’t know what I can say to make you understand what I am doing. Please believe me, I don’t have any other choice.

He scowls at the paper, where his wife has underlined the word “please” twice, and at the open door to the closet, its haphazard hangers bearing evidence to her frantic packing.

MEANWHILE, IN SOUTH MIAMI BEACH: A sleek white limo turns off Ocean Drive, escaping the crawl of traffic. It stops on the side road as a pair of massive iron gates open on command. Through a tinted window in the back, Val looks up at the silhouette of the LaBrea mansion, its domed observatory cutting deeply into the star-filled sky.

 

You know that I have loved our life together, but you also know how hard it’s been for me to keep it together lately. Before we can ever be truly happy again, I have some things I have to work out … away from Knots Landing.

 

Lucky gets out of the limo and walks around back to speak to the driver, leaving Val alone to contemplate the looming image of a prison she believed she’d never see again. Her memories are razor sharp, not dulled at all by the years: Walking into the mansion for the first time, not yet knowing how hard it would be to leave. … Dancing in the arms of the loneliest man she had ever met, finding solace in his embrace. … Her sense of safety being shattered by the cruelty of another man, one who knew the true nature of the LaBrea business.

 

I’m so sorry to do this to you and our family. I don’t know what else I can do … or say. You must NOT come after me. I can handle this myself. It’s for the best that I spend this time alone. For everyone.

 

The limo trunk slams shut, startling Val out of her memories. Steady, girl, she reminds herself. You can do this. You’ve made it this far. How’s it gonna help Olivia if you get all jittery and blow it now? The door beside her opens, and Val takes Lucky’s smooth hand and gets out. She looks around the courtyard, its exquisite landscaping turned menacing in the near darkness. Under the light at the entrance to the house, the same housekeeper she remembers from the past is peering at them curiously while tugging at the belt of her bathrobe. What do I tell her? Val wonders as she and Lucky begin to walk toward the door, the driver bringing their luggage behind them. Her thoughts flash to the encounter that has brought her here, which followed Abby’s unprecedented request … “It’s you,” Lucky greets her with a delighted smile after opening the door to his La Renascita penthouse suite. “You … you don’t seem surprised to see me,” Val replies, summoning all the strength within her and striding past him. “I knew you would come,” he explains plainly. “Oh, really? Then I suppose you really didn’t hear what I told you last night at the reception.” She tries to casually observe her surroundings. “Words, mere words. Anger fades. Love does not.” “Ever the charmer, I see,” she drawls, taking a seat before he can offer her one. “And you, my dear … have changed.” Lucky stares back at her with dark and inquisitive eyes. “May I offer you something to drink? Some wine, perhaps?” “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.” She casually drapes one arm along the edge of the sofa. “You didn’t think you could get away that easily, did you?” He pauses on his way to the wet bar. “Valene, not Verna. A writer, not a chambermaid. A wife and mother, not a little lost waif. Yours is a story filled with contradictions, is it not?” “I take it you’ve had me checked out,” she answers slyly. “I’ve been looking for you for eight years. I now know I was searching for the wrong person. Once I bumped into Valene Ewing, the best-selling author, it took no time to determine the details of her life.” Val raises an eyebrow. “If you’re so slick, maybe you can tell me why I’m here now.” “Give me another hour or two.” He smiles. She returns the gesture tooth for tooth. “I don’t think so.” He turns back around and walks to the bar. “If your coming to Miami and entering my life was a ploy to expose my family in your next book, I have to wonder why the story has not been published.” “I wasn’t there for research. As you may recall, you were the one who insisted I come to work for you. I needed a place to hide out from the people who had kidnapped me. You provided that very well.” “Ah yes, I am looking forward to reading your book about that. Hostage. A copy is being sent up from the hotel bookstore. It’s not a genre I normally favor, but—” “Well, since you know there’s nothing about you in my book or anything to do with my experiences in Miami, I have to wonder why you’d bother,” Val quips, her eyes nervously boring into his back. Lucky returns with a drink in hand. “Perhaps my motive is not concern about another Valene Ewing bestseller. Perhaps reading your words might help me to understand you better. The real you,” he adds sincerely. “The kindest, most loving, least selfish woman I have ever met.” Val’s frosty facade melts a bit at these words. “Oh my,” is all she can say. “I never forgot you,” he whispers, sitting beside her. “Nor I, you. But for far different reasons. You have to understand where I’m coming from,” she confesses softly. “I’ve never been so shocked as I was when I saw you last night. Naturally, it brought up feelings I thought I’d buried long ago.” “I tried to tell you how guilty I feel about what happened. About what Little Jimmy did. About how I didn’t defend you.” “It … It’s not just the hurt that I remember.” “We did have a moment, the two of us, unlike any other,” he says, leaning toward her. “I’ve had such intense feelings of helplessness … revulsion … and fear,” Val searches for words. “They masked the other emotions—the good emotions—I couldn’t bring myself to experience again. Seeing you last night brought out the worst in me. Now that I’ve had some time to cool off, I’m left with the emotions I haven’t dealt with. That’s why I’m here, Lucky. I’m hoping you can help me resolve them, once and for all.” “I owe you that,” he whispers, his dark eyes glistening. “Yes, you do,” she replies, moving closer. “You’re the only one who can.” The desk phone rings jarringly, but at first Lucky doesn’t seem to hear it. He gives Val one last meaningful glance, then walks over and snatches the receiver from its cradle. “Yes, what is it?” he barks. “Oh, of course. … No, no, I will be there.” Hanging up and cursing softly, he turns back to her. “It seems that I have to end this visit rather abruptly. It slipped my mind that I have to leave tonight.” “Leave?” Val echoes, trying not to sound alarmed. “The ubiquitous ‘family business,’” he sighs. “My apologies, Valene.” “My god,” she replies, evidently disappointed. “After all this time, I felt like I was finally about to move on with my life, with your help … to look back on our experience in a new light. When will you be back?” “I don’t know how long it will take.” He shakes his head regretfully. “But if you really do mean it …” “What?” “Fly with me to Miami tonight,” he urges excitedly. “Going back will help you confront your fears. I will be beside you every step of the way.” “Oh, I couldn’t! I can’t just pack up and take off with you.” “After eight long years, you owe it to yourself.” “I–I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Val stammers, rising from her seat. Lucky grabs her by the arms and pulls her to him, and she stares uncertainly into his hypnotic gaze. “Good evening, Mrs. Flores,” Val hears Lucky say as they reach the ornately carved entrance to the mansion. The housekeeper crosses her arms and scowls at the long-lost visitor beside him.

 

I hope someday you can forgive me, Gary, for what I’m doing. I wish I could hug you and the twins and say goodbye, but I guess this is the best way … the only way. Take care of them and be careful yourself. Love, Val

Gary puts down the note, his hand trembling, and takes a sharp, deep breath as he blinks back tears.

DOWNSTAIRS—IN THE KITCHEN:

Bobby, Daniel and Betsy hover over a phone book, flipping through it and skimming advertisements for the number of the bakery Val was supposed to have visited earlier. Lilimae is near the stove, focusing intently on her teapot. Karen and Meg are observing everyone from the kitchen table.

“I’ll try and see if I can get Mack again,” Karen says, getting up and moving to the phone.

“The tea’s almost done, and I’m sure it will be very good,” Lilimae says enthusiastically. Everyone looks at Lilimae curiously, concerned about her strange comment at such a serious time.

Karen places the phone handset back in its cradle. “Mack’s still not home. I’ll try his office again in a little bit.”

“OH, NO!” Lilimae cries out after tasting some of the tea. “This doesn’t taste right at ALL. I swear, they make these ingredients so cheaply nowadays.”

“There it is, Messina Bakery—555-2819,” Daniel announces, looking at Betsy and pointing to the listing.

“Here, I’ll call,” Bobby says, taking the phone book.

“Guys, why don’t you make that call from the living room,” Karen suggests politely, hoping to have some time alone with the obviously bothered Lilimae. “Here, why don’t you all take this too and see who else you can call.” She hands Meg the Ewings’ personal address book. Once the four teens are out of the kitchen, Karen carefully observes the clearly stressed woman at the stove and then approaches her. “Lilimae, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she responds with a broad smile, hoping to distract Karen from any suspicions aroused by her previous reaction.

“You seem kind of tense right now—” Karen begins.

“Karen, I said that I am fine,” she cuts her off resolutely, implying that she doesn’t want her to meddle in the situation. “If I wasn’t fine, then things would be different, but I am fine, so there’s nothing to talk about.”

Karen humbly nods in acceptance and backs down.

“So, would you like some of this tea? I think the second batch’ll be done pretty soon,” the older woman says, her voice and facial expression returning to their previously enthusiastic state.

“Sure, I’d love some,” Karen responds jovially, returning to her seat. “So …” she continues, trying to think of a new topic that might temporarily take Lilimae’s mind off of Val, “how did things go with Dr. Powell?”

“Do not get me started on that man! Well, all I can say is that the principal of that school is, without a doubt, the most obnoxious, pompous man that I have ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting in my entire life,” Lilimae emphasizes in an exasperated tone. “Gary and Val should just be grateful that they won’t have to deal with him anymore after this community service thing is over with.”

Karen cracks a small smile, somewhat bemused by Lilimae’s ranting despite her concern.

“Why, that school should be ashamed to have a man like him as their principal with the things he does: chastisin’ my poor grandson after he selflessly sacrifices himself for the good of his own sister. Attackin’ Betsy—who, I remind you, has never made another mistake in her life, just because of one moment of bad judgment, even after she bravely confessed in front of that huge crowd. And then treatin’ me as an errant pupil because I DARED to call him MR. Powell instead of DR. Powell,” Lilimae adds sarcastically. “I mean, how vain does a person have to be to worry about a title at a time like this?”

“Mack never cared much for him either,” Karen sympathizes.

“Well, the tea is done,” Lilimae says, shifting back to a more chipper tone while she pours a cup of tea and takes it over to the table. “Here you go. KIDS,” Lilimae calls toward the living room. “If you want any of this tea, it’s done and in here on the stove. It’s the special chamomile brand that my momma used to make.”

LIVING ROOM:

The teens do not respond, their focus on Bobby as he talks to the bakery. He finishes the call and hangs up, announcing, “They don’t know anything either. She never even picked up the cake.” He is about to say something else when his attention is diverted to the Caller ID box near the phone. “Abby Ewing?” he asks, confused and staring at the box.

“What about her?” Meg asks.

“Her name is on the ID box,” Betsy answers for her brother.

“Maybe she just called to talk to your dad about Lotus Point or something and didn’t know he wasn’t home,” Meg suggests.

“Maybe,” Bobby says thoughtfully as the phone begins to ring.

“Hello,” Betsy answers, her voice full of hope. Her expression turns to one of joy as the others wait anxiously for her to reveal who she’s talking to.

“Hey, Betsy, it’s Brian. I’m glad I was able to get in touch with you,” Brian’s hurried voice answers. “Listen, there’s something that I forgot about before I left town. Something I was meaning for us to discuss.”

“Is it Mom?” Bobby asks eagerly as Karen and Lilimae rush in to see who is on the line.

“Left town?” Betsy repeats into the phone. Her eyes blink in surprise before she notices everyone staring at her. “It’s not Mom, it’s for me,” she informs them.

As everyone else’s looks of hope and anticipation once again sour, Betsy’s own mind appears to have gone a million miles away. “Hold on a second,” she tells Brian. She takes the phone and heads toward the dining room while Lilimae and Karen go back into the kitchen. Betsy closes the doors behind her to make sure that no one in the house can observe or hear her. “OK, I’m back. What did you want to talk about?” she asks hesitantly.

“Suppy.”

“Suppy?” she asks in astonishment.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I feel like such a bonehead. I’ve been taking care of Harvey’s dog while he and Olivia are on their honeymoon, but something’s come up and I had to take off. I know this is an imposition, but I was hoping that you would be able to do this for me.”

“You want me to … take care of Suppy?” she repeats incredulously.

“Yeah, she just needs someone to stop by in the morning, let her out for a few minutes to do her business and feed her. Harvey’s keys are on my kitchen counter … you still have a key for the house, right? It’ll just be until Olivia gets back. By the way, could you make sure Olivia knows that I left her a letter on the counter before I left? I don’t think she’ll miss it, but I just want to be safe. Do you think you could do all that?”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” she responds. “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know if I will. I’m headed to New York to work things out with Kate,” he says as Betsy numbly sits down on a side chair. “Well, look, thanks for taking care of Suppy. I have to turn my cell phone off now.”

“Wait, Brian,” she says in a slightly desperate voice. “Wasn’t there anything else?”

“Oh right, I forgot! Happy graduation and good luck in college. You know I wish you all the best, kid. I have to hang up now. Take care, OK, and thanks again.”

Betsy clicks off the phone and drops it to her side. He doesn’t even remember what happened that night, she thinks. He doesn’t even remember and now he’s leaving to be with Kate and never coming back. The other night didn’t mean anything to him at all. I never meant anything to him at all.

She gets up and walks back into the living room to put the phone back in its cradle. Bobby and Meg are oblivious to her actions as she goes to the front window and sadly stares out at the recently vacated “Cunningham Compound.” Daniel, however, is paying close attention to Betsy and her drastically altered mood.

UPSTAIRS:

Gary finishes another reading of Val’s note and places it on the nightstand. He’s practically memorized it word for word. Taking a small breath, he walks over to the closet. He slides the doors open wider, revealing a larger gap in the place where Val’s clothes are normally hung. This time he takes in a much deeper breath and fights to hold back any overwhelming emotions, knowing that he should try to stay strong for his family right now.

KITCHEN:

Lilimae stands at the sink and washes the now empty teacups. She drops one suddenly and it shatters in the sink.

“Be careful, Lilimae,” Karen says with concern, walking over to help her pick the pieces out of the sink. She sees that the tension has returned to the older woman’s face.

“Karen … I’m scared,” she whispers, looking back sadly. “Somethin’ is wrong. I don’t know what yet, but I can feel it. I–I know I need to be strong for those kids, but …”

“Hey now, come on. Don’t talk that way,” she says soothingly. “Val’s only been gone a few hours. There’s no reason why we should be assuming the worst yet.”

“Ohh, I do hope you’re right. But I just don’t know. I’ve got this feelin’ in my bones that somethin’ just isn’t right.” Karen reaches her left hand out and squeezes Lilimae’s right hand in an attempt to cheer up her friend.

LIVING ROOM:

Meanwhile, Daniel is still paying close attention to Betsy and has finally worked up the nerve to approach her in this delicate situation. He walks towards her awkwardly and carefully begins his first sentence, not wanting to appear too pushy or too nervous.

“So,” he begins. “How you holding up?”

“Fine,” she answers in a monotonous, almost sarcastic tone while giving him only a slight sideways glance before returning to look out the window.

“Good,” he responds nervously, not sure of how to follow up the question with the seemingly unapproachable Betsy. “I know how you feel.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, showing a trace of annoyance at the interruption.

“I mean that I know what it’s like to worry about your parents. This thing happened with my dad once that scared me when I was a kid. See, he had to go to Altoona to pick up some supplies for his restaurant one day when there was a thunderstorm warning on TV for all of the counties in Central Pennsylvania. Then, because of the storm, he ended up having to spend the night at a motel there. The only problem was that the phones were down and he couldn’t contact us all night. It really scared us, but everything turned out great the next day—well, with the exception of the fact that my dad had to spend the night in a place like Altoona,” Daniel says with a laugh.

His attempt at a bit of levity fails to get even a glimpse of a smile out of Betsy.

“It’s kind of a local joke,” he explains, hoping to cover for what might have seemed to be a bad attempt at humor.

She nods and feigns some amusement although clearly not very interested in pursuing this conversation. In fact, at this moment, she just wants to curl up in a ball and shut the world out.

“But, anyway,” Daniel quickly continues, “I was really scared the night before. All of these horrible things kept running through my mind, especially after what happened to my mom. I mean Laura, not Barbara. I suppose you could have guessed that yourself, though,” he says awkwardly. “But things worked out well for me and I’m sure that—”

“Look,” Betsy interrupts tersely, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It’s sweet and all, but I’ve had a rough day and I’m really not in the mood to feel better right now. I just want to be by myself, OK?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Yeah. I know I ramble on sometimes. That’s OK. Sorry about that,” he responds in an even more awkward voice. He retreats to the couch with a look similar to that of a puppy that has just been smacked with a newspaper.

“Hey, Bob, would you mind putting down the phone for a second?” Gary says as he appears on the stairs. Bobby hangs up and looks at his father with a worried expression.

Gary stops at the foot of the stairs as Karen and Lilimae once again come out from the kitchen, seeing him holding the note.

“Val’s fine,” he begins stoically. “She left me this upstairs,” he says while waving the piece of paper, “but she might not be back for awhile.”