AT THE SAME TIME, IN THE KNOTS LANDING COURTHOUSE: Lawyers and clients mill about in the halls with a variety of police and onlookers. The courthouse is starting to thin out this late in the day, but one courtroom session has just ended, and the two competing lawyers walk briskly into the hallway. “Congratulations, Gladstone. Your client’s going to be a very happy man.” “Thanks, Phil, I couldn’t have done it without YOUR client’s greed and selfishness. If they’d just paid him what he was due six months ago, none of this would have been necessary,” Janice says self-righteously as she presses the call button for the elevator. Phil shakes his head and walks the other way. The elevator arrives and Janice gets on, the doors closing behind her. She turns around and hums along with the instrumental music playing, sure that nothing can darken her good mood. The car stops, the doors open, and Janice discovers she was wrong. “Oh,” Laura says in surprise, from outside. “Maybe I should wait.” “Suit yourself,” Janice replies, reaching to press the ground floor button again. “’Course, this is known to be the slowest elevator in town. You could be waiting for a while.” “Fine,” Laura acquiesces. She boards the elevator and faces the door as it closes. The car continues its descent as the women say nothing more, both staring up at the lit numbers above the door and pretending to be interested in them. Laura suddenly breaks the silence. “Listen, Knots Landing is a very small place, and we know a lot of the same people. We’re going to run into each other, right? I don’t want it to be awkward every time it happens.” “Me either,” Janice says quietly. Laura looks at her in surprise. “Really?” “Yes, really. In fact, I think I owe you an apology,” Janice says slowly. “I haven’t been fair to you, and the reasons for that have less to do with you than they have to do with me. I felt hurt when you turned out not to be what I wanted you to be. You wanted and needed a friend, desperately, but I wanted you to want more. So I wore you down and you finally opened to the idea that we could be together. Then you got your memory back. I was so disappointed that I’d lost Ava that I forgot to be Laura’s friend.” “Janice—” “No, let me finish,” she insists. “I vilified you selfishly and I’m so very sorry for that. You had to jump through hoops to prove who you were at a time when almost everyone had abandoned you, and I was partly responsible for that. I just hope—” “Would you like to have some dinner?” Laura interrupts with a warm smile. Janice can’t do anything but stare back in disbelief.
ABOUT AN HOUR LATER—l’ocean RESTAURANT: “More wine, ladies?” the waiter asks as he empties the bottle into their glasses. “Absolutely,” Laura replies, taking her glass into her hand. “So, here I am, just thrilled that I’ve convinced Jason to accept me and then—boom!—I’m a grandmother.” “I can’t believe it,” Janice says. “And even Richard had no idea?” “None,” Laura answers flatly. “Then again, it IS Richard.” They share a short laugh and then the conversation resumes. “So, is Jason getting married?” “I don’t know,” Laura sighs. “I don’t think Jason would’ve given her the time of day if she hadn’t shown up with his child. And I told him from experience: Never let a new child bear the weight of a marriage. It doesn’t work.” “Sounds like he’s got some tough choices to make. Is she coming out here, too?” Janice asks. “Jason hasn’t said. And I don’t want to push him too much right now with the meddling mother routine.” “You’re actually in a very unique position with all your kids,” Janice assures her. “They place the parent stigma on other people, so you have the opportunity to interact with them as a friend.” The attorney gazes casually across the restaurant, and suddenly her smile gives way to anxiety. “What?” Laura asks. She turns to see what Janice is looking at and spots Greg and Paige at the maitre d’ stand, waiting for their table. ACROSS THE ROOM: “Come on, maybe we should eat somewhere else,” Greg suggests.
“No. She doesn’t mean anything, right?” Paige responds defiantly, following the maitre d’ into the dining area. Their path brings them directly past the table where Janice and Laura are sitting. “Hello, Ava. Oh, I’m sorry, I mean Laura. So hard to keep up with your identities.”
“Paige, please, don’t cause a scene,” Janice requests calmly. Laura remains silent, looking into the eyes of her former husband. “The company you’re keeping doesn’t speak very highly of your character, Janice. Definitely something to consider when casting my vote for the new chief legal counsel at the Sumner Group,” Paige snaps. “Come on, our table’s ready,” Greg interrupts, doing his best to avoid Laura’s eyes. He manages to pull Paige away without either of them saying another word. “I don’t believe her,” Janice says angrily. “How dare she threaten to sabotage my job offer just because I’m having dinner with you!” “She probably won’t be the only one,” Laura says, sounding long resigned. “This town hasn’t exactly rushed to embrace me with open arms.”
LATER—KAREN’S HOUSE: “Hey,” Gary says softly as Karen opens the door. “Sorry for dropping this off so late.” “It’s OK, I finally got Holly to go to sleep a little while ago,” she replies, taking a legal folder from him and setting it on the entry table. “I’ll get this over to the Richfield Foundation tomorrow morning. Why don’t you come in for a minute? I hate to drink alone.” She waits a beat to see his reaction. “Cocoa. No sense heating up a pan of milk for just one cup.” “Ever hear of microwaves?” he chuckles tiredly, following her into the kitchen. “Comfort food can’t be done in an instant,” Karen informs him as she gets the milk out of the refrigerator. “I guess there’s something about the process of making it.” “O … K …” he concedes, unconvinced. She sets the pan on the stove. “I know, it’s hard to explain. Sometimes something as traditional as a cup of hot chocolate can make it seem like everything will be all right in the morning.” “Whatever works for you.” “What about you, Gary? Do you need comforting?” Karen asks, peering at him intently. He looks back at her with surprise. “Um, I only came over to drop off the grant application, not to be counseled,” he says with more sarcasm than he intended. Karen is quiet for a moment as she measures the milk and puts it in the pan. “I suppose that came out a little blunt. Lately I haven’t seen much point in beating around the bush. Too little action, too few problems solved.” She sets the temperature knob and turns back to him. “So … about the grant.” “I’d say we have a good shot at getting it for Lotus Point,” he says, glad to change the subject. “Thank Paige for pulling strings with her friend to get the application deadline extended, will ya?” “I’ll try to call her tomorrow, now that we’ve gotten all the paperwork signed. I guess you’ve heard that she’s going back to the Sumner Group. I hope she’s doing the right thing.” “Well, you know better than me how determined Paige can be.” “How are things at Ewing Properties? I know she’s left a real void,” Karen asks. “Would you like me to come in and help for a while? I wouldn’t mind—in fact, it would be nice to work together again, wouldn’t it. Once Michael and Keith get settled in, I’m sure we can figure out Holly’s—” “How are Michael and Keith, by the way?” he interrupts, not up to broaching the subject of hiring Laura as his business manager. “Oh.” The diversion is successful. “They’re working things out. Right now, Michael’s over at the hotel with Keith, who’s moving in here tomorrow. I’m so glad. I don’t know what made them see the light, but … anyway, it’s good to see Michael this happy. He’s been so sad for so long, y’know?” Gary nods glumly as she gets up to check the pan on the stove. “It just goes to show,” Karen muses as she stirs the milk to keep it from scalding, “sometimes relationships do get tested, but often it’s better in the long run.”
“Are you speaking from your years of experience or mine?” he asks dryly. “I don’t claim to be an expert, Gary. Even if Mack and I never reconcile, I know I’ll be all right. How about you?” “You are one for being blunt tonight, aren’t you?” Karen taps the edge of the pan with her spoon. “You’ve been consumed with finding Val ever since she left. I’m worried about you,” she explains patiently. “How are you holding up?” “I’m fine,” he meets her inquiry with firm resolve. “I’m doing the only thing I know how to do: take action, like you were just saying.” “And in the course of your following Val’s trail all across town, have you stopped for a moment to check on your kids?” “What? What do you know about the kids?” he asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Betsy hardly said two words at the barbecue the other night. And Bobby, this afternoon he walked right past me on the sidewalk like I wasn’t there. And you know as well as I do that Lilimae can’t keep covering for you at work. She may appear to be fine, but the poor woman …” “She seems to be better,” he replies uncertainly. “Look, I know I’m meddling, and I’m sorry, but I can’t help but think of what Val would want you to do. She wants you to go on living and to keep the family together, even if she can’t be with you right now. You read her note.” “Well, pardon me if I haven’t been able to forget what happened the last time she went off in search of something. She got herself kidnapped and I thought she died right in front of my own eyes!” “This time it’s different,” Karen replies with exasperation. “She’s been trying to work through whatever’s been bothering her for months, under a therapist’s care. Val’s stronger than she was back then. She knows what she needs, and as her friend I have to back off and let her. She can handle it.” “And you’re NOT easing up on ME now because … you DON’T think I can handle this, is that it?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Taking a deep breath, Karen turns back to the hot milk and pushes aside the skin that has formed on the surface. “You know, we’ve all been affected by this in different ways,” she adds quietly, trying to hide her concern for him. She reaches for a pair of mugs. “But … we’re going to be OK.” Gary warily watches her move over to another cabinet and throw open the door. She studies its contents for a moment, then turns back to him. “… OK,” she repeats. “Even if I did forget to put cocoa on my grocery list.”
MUCH LATER, AT THE LABREA MANSION—SOUTH BEACH: Val sits on her bed, with her knees pulled to her chest, thinking. A sound from behind the closed door gets her attention. Thinking it might be footsteps, she slides off and puts on her slippers. On the way to the door, she notices the time on the bedside clock: 2 a.m. She opens the door a crack. Save for the busy sepia-tone wallpaper, there’s no action in the broad hallway. “Lucky?” she calls softly, just to be sure. No answer. She sighs, thinking, Another day wasted. For as little as I’ve seen of him since we got here, I might as well be back home in my own bed. The door groans as she pushes it closed. In the second of silence that follows, Val’s eyes widen as a similar sound, more human, takes its place. She jerks the door back open and listens. There it is again … unmistakable. Someone is crying, and she’s not imagining it. Snatching her robe from the bed, Val hurries out into the hall. She follows the sound to the far end, where the thick planks that block entry to the observatory rise above her. She tries the latch and finds it locked. Val drops her hand to the pocket of her robe. After taking a quick look over her shoulder, she reaches in and pulls out a heavy key. You’re so nice to go out to the store for me, Mrs. Flores, she thinks, smiling wryly. In my haste to pack, I’ve forgotten several personal items. Oh, but you insist on getting these things for me? You’re so kind. “And nice enough to give me enough time to find this,” she whispers, putting the key in the lock. The crying stops. She tugs at the door, expecting a horrifying creak but is surprised to hear it open smoothly. After another quick backward glance, she slips inside.
The staircase is there as she remembers it, spiraling up toward the highest point of the mansion. Val rests her hand on the railing and takes a careful step upward. Seems pretty solid to me. Must’ve been one of those minor hurricanes, Mrs. Flores. She tries the next step, then another, holding onto her confidence as firmly as she is the railing. A spectral light filters down from above. There’s nothing to be scared of, Val forces herself to repeat. Besides, I’ve run into a ghost or two before. There’s not even a cobweb to be seen. As she climbs, an old song she remembers little Olivia playing on her pink turntable fills her head: “Doo-dooh … I ain’t afraid of no ghost!” Val smiles at the recollection of sitting on Olivia’s bed as the child made her stuffed animals dance. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ghostbusters!” She places one foot at the top of the stairs, and in the dim light she can make out the looming telescope. The outline of a large screen she doesn’t remember is in one corner of the room, and there are several boxes stacked about. “Hello?” she calls out softly. “Is anybody here?”
An eerie wail crosses the space before Val can put her other foot on the landing. Its source, a pigeon, flutters past her and onto the open windowsill. Startled, she feels her slipper catch on the step and fall off. Her heart is pounding, but she exhales loudly with relief. “The way you were carrying on, I guess you’re what they call a MOURNING dove,” she mutters to the bird. She places her bare foot on the chilly floor and reaches down for the shoe. Taking it in her hand, she steps away from the staircase and bends down, steadying herself against a large box. She recoils as her toes trace through something wet, then quickly wipes her foot with the hem of her robe. In the near darkness, she brings the fabric to her nose and sniffs. Disinfectant.
Looking around, Val finds the switch to the overhead light and turns it on, hoping to dispel her uneasiness in the process. The fluorescent lamp flickers on and buzzes harshly. Once her eyes have grown accustomed to the light, she sees that the boxes have all been sealed with fresh tape. Someone obviously has been up here recently. She walks back to find the wet spot on the wood floor. Kneeling down for closer inspection, she realizes that the boards have darkened in two different shades … a wide area where someone has been scrubbing, and inside this circle the spatters of something dark … something very difficult to remove once it has dried.
Val scrapes a fingernail against the stain and brings it to her face. She peers at it intently, her skin pale in the greenish light. “Blood?”
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