JACK’S MALIBU HOME:

The wind is cool, but the sun shines warmly over the ocean and the Malibu cliffs. Jack feels very much alive in his driveway, smelling the salt spray of the ocean and feeling the heat of the sun on his bare back as he carefully washes his new, black Hummer.

“Mr. Ewing!” calls the voice of his housekeeper.

Turning quickly toward her, he wipes sweat from his brow, flashing the remarkable smile that’s made him a local celebrity.

“The guard is calling from the gate. You have a visitor—another Ewing,” she informs him, holding out the phone.

Jack looks quizzically away for a moment, then turns back to her. “Is it Abby?” he asks in a near-whisper.

“No, sir,” she replies with an oddly sympathetic tone. “It’s your cousin: Mr. Gary Ewing.”

He chuckles at the irony. “Wonder what I’ve done wrong this time?” The rhetorical question is lost on the housekeeper, and he winks at her. “Have them send him on up.”

With a smile and a nod, the housekeeper turns back toward the house and does as she’s been asked. Jack goes back to washing the Hummer.

A few minutes later, Gary’s truck comes to a slow stop at the top of the driveway.

“Hey, ‘Cuz,’” Jack greets him as Gary gets out and raises his hand high.

“Jack. Looks like you’ve got yourself a new toy,” he says, approaching and gesturing at the Hummer.

“Ye-eah,” he replies. “That Beamer was never really my style—Abby’s doing. I figure now that I’m a single guy, what the hell.”

“Looks like you’ve adjusted famously,” Gary remarks sarcastically. “But I didn’t come out here to talk about Abby. I came to ask you about Val. When was the last time you saw or talked to her?”

Jack stops scrubbing a wheel and looks up. “You know there’s never been anything going on between me and—”

Gary holds his right hand up, signaling “stop.” “Yeah, I know. I never believed that load of garbage. I may have trouble fully trusting a guy who’s capable of beating Abby at the divorce game, but I’ve seen that you’re a fairly honorable man.”

“I appreciate that,” Jack replies, picking up the hose and spraying the wheel he’s been working on.

“But, I really do need to know if you’ve seen or talked to her—Val, I mean. She’s—she’s left town unexpectedly.”

“She workin’ on a new book?” Jack asks casually.

“No, Jack. I mean she’s disappeared. God, I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming! Hell, she’s been acting strange for over a year now—since before that night at Sumner’s ranch when she knocked Abby to the floor.”

“Hey, take it easy there.” Jack rises to his feet and puts a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “You can’t anticipate something like this.”

“After all these years, I should be able to,” Gary says through gritted teeth.

“Listen, what can I do to help? You want me to do some kind of TV announcement or press release through the Group or something? I’ll do anything,” Jack offers genuinely.

Gary’s response is muffled by the sound of a Jaguar roaring to a quick stop just a few feet away from them. Both men turn toward the car just in time to witness Hillary Clark’s legs gracefully exit the vehicle, followed by her equally shapely top half.

“Mm-hmm, two big, strong Ewing men standing together is about as good a welcome as any woman is ever going to receive,” she beckons.

“Like I said: adjusting famously, ‘Cuz,’” Gary says sarcastically without looking away from the brunette.

Jack clears his throat as he walks toward Hillary and puts his arm around her shoulder. “Hill, I wasn’t expecting you. Gar and I were just—”

“—Winding up here, actually,” Gary finishes for him. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow, Jack,” he says, already walking toward his truck. “Oh, and Jack …” he adds, turning back. “It’s good to have family close by again. It’s been too damn long. Bye, Hillary.”

“Bye.” She waves eagerly as Jack stands at her side and grins broadly.

“You’re in an awfully good mood today,” he remarks to his lover as Gary drives away. “I figured you’d be fit to be tied after losing out on the Sumner vote the other day.”

“Well, of course I was disappointed by that, but today I’m encouraged by something else,” she says.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he slyly asks.

“Let’s just say that my son has made me a very proud mama, and leave it at that, shall we, stud?” she replies confidently.

“Sounds good to me. Now, let me escort you to my new chariot.”

“I hope you don’t expect ME to ride in THAT,” she titters.

Jack sets about defending his new vehicle, and Hillary continues to protest in a dual that will likely never end between the two sexes.

SEAVIEW CIRCLE:

“Not too far off the driveway,” Karen warns as she watches Holly ride her bicycle with training wheels in circles and just barely into the street. “Honey, there’s a car. Come back up.”

She watches her granddaughter carefully as the car pulls up in front of the Cunningham compound. Olivia gets out of the passenger seat, looks over and waves. Karen walks over to them as Olivia reaches into the backseat and lifts the baby out of the car seat.

“Aunt Karen, come say hello to our son,” she says with a warm smile.

“Olivia, he’s gorgeous,” Karen gushes, looking down at the baby in her arms. “Congratulations, honey.”

“Thanks,” she replies, looking up to see Harvey come back from the house.

“No answer,” he informs her.

“Huh. I thought little brother’d be home from work by now,” Olivia remarks as Karen takes the baby and holds him.

“Did you come up with a name yet?” Karen asks, cooing at the baby.

“Actually, I think we’ve settled on William Sidney Gellman,” she replies with pride.

“William … Sidney? You named him after Sid?”

“I wanted a biblical name like Adam or Jacob,” Harvey chuckles. “But Olivia insisted that we name him after her Uncle Sid, so I gave in and let her call him William Sidney. It sounds good now that I hear myself say it, don’t you think, little guy?”

“It sounds great,” Karen agrees. “Your mom must be beside herself.”

“Well, she didn’t discourage it,” Olivia replies. “She’s been great through all of this. I wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with being a granny again, but she’s been awesome. Now I have my mother’s support, a great husband and I have little Will here who I’m proud of already, even if he’s only been around a couple of days.”

Karen smiles down at the newborn again. “Now do you realize how much they mean to you from the moment they’re born?”

Olivia nods. “Of course. Heck, I even sort of understand why Mother did all the things she did. Well, almost. Ah, and speaking of Grandma!”

Karen looks up to see Abby pull up behind Olivia.

“Well, doesn’t the Gellman family look happy.” Abby smiles as she gets out of her car. She looks at Olivia. “You OK, honey?”

“I’m doing great,” she responds. “Brian’s not home.”

“Yeah, he’s not,” Betsy calls out, walking up to the group.

“Betsy! Hey there, ‘little sis!’” Olivia greets her warmly. “I have a new baby-sitting client for you.”

“Wow,” Betsy comments, looking at the little boy. “He’s a cutie.”

“Must get it from his mother,” Harvey mumbles. Olivia looks at him, shooting him a warning glance.

“I came out to tell you Brian’s gone,” Betsy says slowly, finding the words difficult to verbalize. “He went to New York. After Kate.”

“He did what?” Abby asks in surprise.

“Good for him,” Karen interjects.

“He left a note. For Olivia,” Betsy explains, pulling a spare key from her pocket. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“OK, thanks. Better go check that out,” Olivia suggests. “You got things under control out here, Dad?”

“If I can pry him away from your aunt,” Harvey remarks.

“Not on your life,” Karen replies, holding the baby tight.

“I’ll be right back,” Olivia informs them, heading toward the front door with Abby close behind. They enter the house and head straight for the kitchen, where Olivia spots the note. Abby maintains control and doesn’t reach for the paper herself as Olivia picks it up. She looks up at her mother and sighs.

“OK, OK, I’ll read it out loud … ‘Hey, Sis. Kate and I have patched things up, so I’m off to New York to be with her and the kids. I’m sorry I didn’t stick around long enough to see the baby. I don’t know when, or if, we’ll be back, so I want you guys to use the house. Lots of space for my nephew to kick around in. All I ask is that you keep a room for Laura in case she comes back, since I told her she had a place to stay there. For me, all I want now is to be with Katie and the kids. Love, Brian.’” Olivia smiles as she puts down the note. “Wow.”

“Indeed.” Abby shakes her head. “Well, as much as I’d rather not see your brother with Kate, maybe this is what he needs to get his head back on straight.”

“Scary, but we seem to be in agreement more and more these days,” Olivia says somberly. “Must be this whole motherhood chemical thing or something.”

“Yeah, that must be it,” Abby retorts. “Anyway, I think he’s right. You should move in here.”

“It is something to consider. This place is like a dream. For me and MY family.”

Abby laughs, “Listen, Olivia, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m perfectly comfortable where I am.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“So, what’s the word? Brian joining a cult or something?” Harvey asks jovially as he enters with the baby in his arms.

“Not quite,” Olivia replies, putting her arm around him. “But we’ve been given a great opportunity. How’d you like to move into this dump?”

“It’s definitely a fixer-upper, but it’s got potential.”

“Kind of like my man,” Olivia says brightly, kissing him.

Abby watches the tranquil family scene and can’t help but be bothered by the nagging doubts that plague her mind.

THE SUMNER RANCH:

“… and we simply must stop by The Galleria.” Anne hovers over a sitting Paige, who is resting her eyes. “I passed it on the way home from getting my hair done and they had them MOST gorgeous pieces from Versace’s latest business wear line. I have to tell you, I was really skeptical when Donatella took that operation over, because she’s always been so … avant-garde. I mean, remember that outrage we saw at the boutique in New York two years ago with that awful peach top with a neckline that plunged to the navel, and those hideous fuchsia palazzo pants with all of the rhinestones! We couldn’t stop laughing! Well, at any rate, she got that out of her system and has really come through with a fabulous collection this year—really understated chic—and I’m just dying to see them up close.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Paige agrees without even listening to a word her mother has said.

“And then I thought we’d maybe have some dinner at Dante’s afterwards. How does that sound?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Paige states again, monotonously.

“Well, we should get going then. Where’s your purse, dear? I’ll run and get it.”

“Where are we going?” Paige asks, puzzled, as she opens her eyes.

Anne sighs deeply. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose. Something about Dante’s and palazzo pants and Donatella Versace. I’m sorry, I guess I’m just too worn out from listening to you run on and on for six straight hours about southern California food and fashion.”

“Well, why didn’t you say something before, darling,” Anne apologizes as she flutters about. “We could have done something else. I was just trying to think of things I know you like to do, that’s all.”

Yeah, right! Paige thinks to herself. When have I ever wanted to drive 60 miles to touch a particular strand of Majorcan pearls!

“I … I know,” Paige acknowledges with a smile, “and it’s duly appreciated. Really, though, I think you’ve gone a little overboard. I don’t want people treating me differently because of what happened. Nothing is going to bring the baby back, so I might as well start getting on with my life.”

“And that’s what I’m trying to help you to do!” Anne emphatically insists.

“No, Mother. You’re driving yourself crazy trying to keep me occupied so that neither you nor I think about the baby,” Paige states gently. “Believe me, I know how you feel.”

Anne frowns sympathetically. “Well, I wish I could say the same.” She takes a seat on the arm of Paige’s overstuffed chair and gently strokes her daughter’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Paige.”

“Well don’t be,” she replies triumphantly. “Everyone always says they’re sorry, they’re sorry, they’re sorry. The truth is that it’s no one’s fault. Nothing that anyone did or could have done would have saved my baby. It just happened to be a card in the hand life dealt me.”

“I’d like to have a word with the dealer about that one,” Anne growls in Paige’s defense.

“There’s no use getting mad about it. It won’t do anything but make you feel worse. I’m finding the best way to get on with things is to hop back in the saddle and get back on the trail. I think I’m going to go to Mack’s barbecue to welcome Olivia’s new baby.” There is a moment of silence between them as their eyes meet. “I’m also thinking about going back to the Group.”

“Oh, Paige.” Anne shakes her head. “I’m not so sure about—”

“Well, I am.”

“But you haven’t given it any time yet!”

“You mean I haven’t moped around here long enough to satisfy everyone else’s notion about how I SHOULD be acting in this situation?!” Paige says sarcastically.

“Your life was turned completely upside down, and now you want to—” Anne begins, not so much upset as confused.

“What I want is to turn it around and start picking up the pieces and moving on with my life … and let everyone else move on with theirs.”

“Why do I get the distinct feeling that you’re sending me home?” Anne inquires but in a nonconfrontational manner.

“I’m not sending you home, Mother,” Paige reassures her, “but being out here has changed you. I just want to save you before you betray your Winston heritage.”

“What’s that?” Anne asks, confused.

Paige smiles. “Yesterday, when we were in the kitchen and you were frantically trying to think of things to keep ‘us’ busy, you actually contemplated making your own fruit preserves.”

“Oh my god! I did, didn’t I?!” Anne gasps, half-mockingly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone!”

“Maybe I’d better call the airline,” Anne agrees with a grin.

THE NEXT MORNING—THE OFFICE OF DR. YVONNE BOISSEAU:

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ewing, but there’s nothing I can tell you,” the silver-haired therapist tells Gary as she enters the reception area. “My patients, and what we discuss, are confidential.”

“I understand that, but I’m also trying to understand why she left.”

“Only she knows that for sure,” Dr. Boisseau answers.

LA RENASCITA HOTEL—ABBY’S SUITE:

Abby looks for her own answers as she walks over to the phone and keys in the number of her doctor friend, one she has memorized because of her frequent calls these days.

“Are you sure a DNA test is necessary?” the doctor asks after a moment.

“It’s necessary for my—OUR—peace of mind,” Abby responds.

“I’m not sure if we can do this without a court order,” he admonishes. “I have to protect doctor/patient …”

“… privilege,” Dr. Boisseau finishes. “Whatever goes on between Mrs. Ewing and myself stays private, for both our sakes. My patients should be able to feel they have a safe place to come and talk. Besides, confidentiality is …”

“… the law,” the doctor tells Abby. “Even if I call in some favors at the lab, or run the tests myself, we can’t do anything for you unless your daughter requests the test or a judge tells us to run them. My hands are tied. I’m sorry, Abby.”

She draws out a breath of disappointment and pauses for a moment. “Well, thank you very much for your time. Call me sometime when you’re not so busy. Maybe we can go to lunch.” Hanging up the phone, Abby taps her fingers impatiently on the desk, wondering what her next move should be.

THE MACKENZIE DRIVEWAY:

An impatient taxi driver honks loudly as Anne hurries out, suitcases in hand.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you. I couldn’t have gone through this in a hotel,” Anne tells Mack, glancing back at him. “We really should do this again sometime.”

“Yes, we should,” he agrees.

“I expect to be the first person you call when you land in New York.”

“Maggie might cut ahead of you in line, but you’re definitely on the list, kid,” Mack replies, looking at her tenderly.

Anne throws one of her bags into the cab’s back seat before Mack advances and embraces her. He kisses her gently as Karen observes from her front window.

“Give me a call when you get in, OK? And let me know you made it safe,” Mack whispers.

“I will. And you make sure and check on Paige for me. Take care of our little girl, OK?”

“She doesn’t need us to take care of her, Annie. She’s a big girl,” Mack sighs.

Anne looks at him with surprise. “Well, look at the mature, level-headed Mack Mackenzie. I think I like him,” she says warmly.

They look into each other’s eyes for a moment longer as Karen continues to watch, with a twinge of longing in her heart, wondering.

“Come on, lady,” the cabbie barks out. “I don’t have all day.”

MIAMI—THE LABREA MANSION:

Val sits erect at a glass and wrought iron table, feeling lost in the spacious courtyard surrounding the sparkling swimming pool. She nurses a glass of orange juice and nibbles at a warm blueberry muffin she retrieved from Mrs. Flores’ buffet, all the while wondering why Lucky left so soon after their arrival and has been gone for over 24 hours. Everything seems both familiar and foreign to her, as it has been so long since she was last here.

She sits alone, with none of the help anywhere to be found. It’s no secret to her that the entire household staff looks at her with a great deal of suspicion. Though many of the faces have changed over the years, she can’t help but notice that even the newer staff seems edgy around her. It is an uncomfortable feeling, yet she knows it’s best just to act like nothing is wrong and avoid letting on that this is not exactly a social call.

After devouring the muffin and a large, sweet grapefruit, Val rises, pushes her chair back and steps toward a set of glass doors that open up onto a veranda. She is immediately enveloped in the fragrance of the surrounding bougainvilleas and orchids. She looks around, expecting some hidden guard to pop out at any moment to stop her. She approaches a wrought iron gate and, grasping it in her fists, looks out across the street outside to the beach. She sees a solitary bather—a young woman—wade tentatively in the surf a few hundred yards off. Standing there, Val smiles and is reminded of a very similar, very familiar young woman who first laid eyes on another ocean almost 25 years ago and never willingly left it for long.

In her khaki shorts and white polo, Val instinctively slips off her tennis shoes and starts to turn the latch on the gate. She isn’t shocked to find that it won’t turn—it’s locked—but still, an unstoppable wave of panic washes over her.

The moment passes as she hears the muffled sounds of a man’s voice emanating from a slightly cracked window at the corner of the house. After a quick internal debate as to whether or not she should snoop around and see who it is, she opens another set of doors and enters a small vestibule.

“No, that’s fine,” she hears the voice, now unmistakably Lucky’s, say.

Val peeks quickly around the corner through the half-opened door, not expecting Lucky, dressed in a shirt and tie, to be looking right at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispers and backs away to excuse herself.

“No, Valene, wait,” he calls out, catching her attention and motioning for her to enter his office. “I am on hold. Sorry that my business called me away into the night. Were you able to find everything you needed?”

“Yes, yes,” she replies emphatically.

“Good, good … oh, hello,” he cuts her off and returns his attention to the phone. “No. Like I said, that is fine. Just put me through to her voicemail then.” He holds up a finger to Val, signaling that he’ll only be a minute. “Mrs. Ewing, this is Luciano LaBrea. I merely wanted to remind you that there was a change to the plans. The meeting with the City Council regarding the building permits for Downtown Renaissance will now be on Thursday at 10 a.m., so I expect you will be able to represent us there. Just give me a call whenever you can …”

“Oh, is that Abby? Tell her I said ‘hi.’” Val chimes in, hoping to relay some indication that she is safe and sound.

“I will call you again later. Buongiorno,” Lucky ends the call, apparently without hearing Val’s request.