Dream a Little Dream

Chapter 37

“For you,” Luke Spencer said as he presented a bouquet of peonies to Lesley Webber.

“Come on in,” Lesley said. She had just returned from her morning walk and had been getting ready to do some late-summer gardening when Luke arrived. She put the peonies in a vase and set them on the dining room table.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Definitely,” he said. He took a sip and sighed.

“Just the way I like it,” he said. “Rich and with a kick.”

“All right, Luke, what do you want?” Lesley asked with a smile, hands playfully on her hips.

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“You're here before noon, bearing flowers, and are being quite courtly,” Lesley said. “So, what is it this time? Harbor a fugitive friend? A loan? An alibi?”

“Aw, you cut me deep, Les,” Luke said in mock reproach. Then he said, “But I do need a small favor.”

“Let's hear it,” she said. “What's it going to cost me?”

“A few hours of your time, that's it,” Luke said. “Really,” he added when Lesley made a skeptical face.

He went on to tell her about the Johnsons getting out of New Orleans and heading up to Port Charles. Lesley had met them several years ago when she and Laura went to Mardi Gras together. Lesley had seen them again last year when she went to New Orleans for a convention. She was always grateful to the family for being there for Laura while she was gone.

“Anyway, with Wayne and Celeste's health problems, I was thinking it'd be good to have a doctor on hand when they arrive,” Luke finished. “They're going to be here sometime Monday afternoon.”

“Oh!” gasped a disappointed Lesley. “There's no way I can do it, Luke. Monday's the first day for the interns. I have to be at the hospital by eight in the morning, and between helping them with their paperwork and all the meetings they have with the staff, then Alan and I taking them out to dinner, I won't be free until nine at night.”

“Damn,” Luke said. “That's okay, I guess it's not essential.”

“Ask Karen Wexler,” Lesley said. “I think she's taking a few days off this coming week with her birthday today and everything.”

“Lucky's going to her party tonight,” Luke said. “I'll have him ask her. So I hear Noah Drake's son is coming.”

Lesley laughed.

“Can you believe it?” she said. “It doesn't seem possible that Noah has a son old enough to have finished med school. I can still remember when he was here, cutting a swath of swooning females through the hospital. You and Laura were just married after saving Port Charles from the Cassadines. Rick and I were still married. So much has changed.”

“Some for the better, some for the worse,” Luke said. “My ol' carcass leading the way in worse. Thanks anyway, Les. I know you'll be there for Epiphany and Company in the long run if need be. And, judging by the news this morning, it looks like 'if need be' is gonna happen. Laura's getting in later this morning. I better go tend to business before I pick her up at the airport.”

* * *

Lucas Jones checked his luggage and handed his ticket to a porter, who showed him to the sleeper unit on the train.

After tipping the porter and settling in, Lucas flopped on the seat. Lucas didn't want to risk being seated next to a garrulous grandmother, so he splurged for the private sleeping berth. He wanted to be alone – to sleep, to think, or to try not to think.

It was a long ride back to Port Charles from Boston – ten hours, with the stops. But it wasn't long enough for Lucas. If it wasn't for his parents, he'd seriously consider not going back at all.

This had been the most incredible month of his life. When he got the offer to be a counselor at the diabetic camp in Vermont, his only thought was getting out of Port Charles for a while. He needed breathing room before starting at PCU, to try and figure some things out.

He'd been feeling alone for a long time. As his friends found girlfriends, and talked about nothing but naked girls and what to do with them, Lucas felt left out. Girls left him cold. What was with him? He was certain he wasn't gay; he'd never had a crush on a boy.

Then he got to the camp, and saw Brandon again.

Brandon Chambliss came from an old-money Boston family. Like Lucas, he was diabetic and had come to the camp as a kid. They'd seen each other a couple of years there, and were friendly, but their paths hadn't crossed since Lucas was twelve.

Lucas figured the fluttery feeling in his stomach was surprise over seeing an old campmate. Brandon was tall, with wavy brown hair. His figure was buff from soccer and lacrosse, and bronze from the sun. Brilliant blue eyes and white teeth sparkled against that tan. Anyone else would have looked like a toothpaste ad. But there was a shyness and reserve about Brandon that put him above all that.

The two ended up sharing a cabin at the end of one of the little “roads.” Being a counselor had its privileges – the walls were log, the windows were glass with little shutters on the inside, and the door was solid wood, with a screen storm door to keep bugs out.

They spent the first few nights before bed getting caught up on their lives. Brandon was two years older, and was in college in New Hampshire.

“You'll love college, Lucas,” he said. “It's the most incredible freedom. You can really learn to ... be yourself.”

Brandon looked away shyly.

“Freedom?” Lucas snorted. “I'm living at home and going to school with everyone I've known since I was a kid. I was an idiot to offer to do that. But I was worried about my mom and dad both being alone, especially with what happened to my sister. So I thought I'd be the good son. Instead, I trapped myself.”

The other counselors were nice, too, and every night with good weather was spent in front of the campfire for a little while after the kids had gone to bed. Many times, Lucas found himself teamed with Brandon on some job – lifeguarding at the lake, or the nature hikes. At night, they often talked well past when they should have fallen asleep.

One night, Lucas heard Brandon get up to go to the bathroom. One eye open, he smothered a gasp when he realized Brandon slept in the buff. He feigned being asleep when Brandon came back, but could hardly breathe with desire and terror pounding in his veins. No, he thought, fighting back tears. I can't be ... I just can't.

The next day, Lucas tried to convince himself maybe it was a strange dream. But then watching Brandon gracefully dive into the lake left a lump in his throat.

A few nights before they were scheduled to leave, Lucas' whole world changed. One of the other counselors had smuggled in a case of beer that day, and gave a six-pack to Lucas and Brandon. Lucas kept it in a cooler carefully hidden under his bed. After two beers, Lucas felt pleasantly fuzzy. He wasn't covert in looking at Brandon.

“Lucas, there's something I need to tell you,” Brandon began. Out came a soft-spoken confession of being gay, and being crazy about Lucas. In the few seconds of silence after Brandon finished, Lucas felt his life rushing towards him, sweeping away the old repressions and denial. This is it, he thought. This is who I am. I'm gay. And I'm in love with Brandon. He held out a trembling hand to Brandon and looked in his eyes. Brandon got up and locked the door.

The next day, Brandon invited him to Cape Cod. His family had a home there, but his parents had gone to Europe that summer and wouldn't be back until mid-September. Brandon had already set aside the time following the camp as his own time there, so they wouldn't be disturbed. He was out to his family, who had accepted it and loved him just as much as ever.

A vacation alone with Brandon? Lucas jumped at the chance. He informed Bobbie and Tony quickly, and set about packing.

The time on the Cape was magical – breakfast on the veranda overlooking the water, days at the beach, nights in the hot tub. Lucas felt more and more like his own person with each passing day. He could say anything, do anything with Brandon, and it was all good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so freely. For the first time in a long time, Lucas didn't feel alone. And, being an 18-year-old guy, he was dizzy with pleasure, the anticipation of pleasure, the remembrance of pleasure.

But all of a sudden, time ran out. After a private, passionate good-bye at the house, Brandon drove Lucas to the train station in Boston. Getting out of the car was the hardest thing Lucas had ever done. He felt like everything he'd become these last few weeks was leaving with Brandon. The old repressions felt like an anvil on his chest.

Lucas felt the closet coming headlong at him with each turn of the train's wheels. He pressed his head against the cool window glass. His arms ached to hold Brandon. Tears slid down his cheeks. I'm going to destroy my parents, he thought in shame. How do I live with this?

The soothing sway of the train helped Lucas find the temporary escape of sleep. He slept through most of Massachusetts, waking up to find himself in the Berkshires. He splashed some cold water on his face and went to the dining car.

* * *

The Realtor was waiting for Dr. Patrick Drake in the lobby of the Lady Jane Plaza. Patrick had arrived the day before to get settled in before starting his internship at General Hospital on Monday.

He'd rented a one-bedroom suite at the Lady Jane, but hoped he could find a condo quickly. Money wasn't a problem. His mother was from an old-money family from Virginia horse country. His father's family was also well off. Patrick's late great-uncle had been a senator, and after leaving the Senate, had authored a best-selling series of Washington, D.C.-based mystery novels that were later turned into TV movies. Not needing the royalty money himself, Martin Drake had set it aside in a trust fund for the son of his favorite nephew. After his wife's death when Patrick was 15, Noah had plowed all her personal assets into Patrick's trust fund.

Patrick and the Realtor sat in the hotel bar, sharing a pot of coffee. Patrick noticed the admiring glances from the female staff, but didn't let on that he noticed. He looked a great deal like his father – thick black hair, blue eyes, strong chin, a smile that was sweet and cocky at the same time. His eyes, however, were not as soulful as Noah's. Patrick played things much closer to the vest. Where Noah's blue eyes were like a lake in the springtime with brightness and sparkle, Patrick's were more like a lake in the fall – cooler, a bit more austere.

Young, handsome, rich and gifted – Patrick Drake was all these things. And he knew it.

Patrick filled out paperwork, and told the Realtor what he wanted.

“I'd like something in a high-rise, if possible,” he said. “Good views. I don't know much about the city, so I'm not sure where yet.”

The Realtor told Patrick he'd take him to a few different neighborhoods so Patrick could get a feel for Port Charles. The first stop was the PCU neighborhood.

“There aren't any high-rise condos here,” the Realtor said. “But there are some nice townhouses. You're close to downtown and General Hospital. And there's a lot to do in the neighborhood – restaurants, coffeehouses, galleries.”

Patrick was shown a basic three-bedroom townhouse. It was roomy, but didn't have much in the way of style. The pretty co-eds strolling the streets and sitting outside the cafés were a plus.

Patrick was impressed with the Waterfront District. The loft condos were decidedly young and modern. He liked the restaurants, clubs and shops nearby. Steve Hardy Park would be a great place to run. But it was a little further from the hospital than he wanted.

“There's not much downtown in terms of condos yet,” the Realtor said. “Most of the condo development lately has been focused in the Waterfront District. There are some nice apartment buildings here that may go condo in a few years. The best condo bet is in this building.”

Patrick was ushered into a formal lobby, with dark wood paneling. The Realtor picked up a few keys from the concierge and led the way to the elevator.

“This building has 24-hour concierge service,” the Realtor said as they went up. “So if you're on call a lot at the hospital, they can pick up and bring back your dry cleaning, water your plants, things like that. It also has a full gym with the latest equipment, which is open 24 hours a day, and a pool, which is open from five in the morning until 10 p.m. You get one parking spot with your condo fees, and access to visitor parking.”

The first unit had a great view of the river. But it was only one bedroom. Patrick wanted at least two, so he could have his own office. The second and third units were two bedrooms, but both faced north and would not get good light in the winter.

“Last stop,” the Realtor said as the elevator opened.

“This is the penthouse floor?” Patrick asked.

“One unit is available,” the Realtor said, handing Patrick the listing sheet, then unlocking the door. “I think you'll see the potential of this place.”

The Realtor turned on the lights, but Patrick still squinted in the gloom. The walls were a depressing brown. The furniture was heavy and dark. Heavy draperies hung on the windows, which had views of the river from the living room and downtown from the balcony off the dining room.

“Not exactly cheerful,” Patrick said.

“You'll like the kitchen,” the Realtor said, showing Patrick towards the kitchen. It was spacious, and had newer high-end appliances – a six-burner commercial-quality stove with two ovens, a big refrigerator, a wine fridge, a warming drawer and dishwasher. But the cabinets, countertops and walls were all done in tones of steel gray.

“It looks like a damn prison in here,” Patrick said. “Who decorated this place, The Addams Family?”

A small office with a cleverly concealed door finished the first floor. Patrick then saw the four bedrooms upstairs. Each of the bedrooms had its own bath. The master bedroom was furnished with black lacquered furniture; the bedding was black satin. The bathroom had black cabinets, black countertops and black marble tile in the shower. “Whoever lived here must have been miserable to be around,” Patrick commented.

“So, what do you think of the place?” the Realtor asked as they made their way downstairs.

“I think I need to know why it's been vacant for ...” Patrick looked at the listing, “...about two years. What's wrong with it? Besides the décor, that is.”

The Realtor flushed a little.

“The penthouse itself is fine. It's in magnificent shape, has all the amenities,” he said. “The problem is the previous owner.”

“Who was he or she?”

“A mobster,” the Realtor said. “Name was Sonny Corinthos. A total blight on this town, and bark-at-the-moon crazy at the end. No one around here wants to live in 'Sonny Corinthos' place,' so it hasn't sold despite a deep discount by his heir.”

“That's it?” Patrick asked, then laughed shortly. “I don't believe in ghosts, so that doesn't bother me. It's going to take a lot of work to undo Mr. Corinthos' execrable taste. I'll match the heir's current listing price, if they agree to cart everything left here out. Let's do the paperwork and fax it over. I'd like to get an answer before I start work.”

* * *

“So, Scotty,” Heather Webber asked. “Whaddya think?”

Scott Baldwin stared at the birthday cake Heather had made for his daughter Karen's party that night. It was shaped like a partially opened wide, shallow gift box, striped in bright pink and green fondant. Out of marzipan, decorative sugar, royal icing and fondant, Heather had sculpted things that signified Karen spilling out from the box. There was a stethoscope, a high-heeled pump, a bikini, her childhood rag doll, a yellow rose, a pair of designer sunglasses, a copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. On top of the box lid was an iguana, holding the ribbon in his teeth.

“Jeez, Heather,” Scott said, running his hand through his hair and trying to collect his thoughts. “It's ... it's a piece of art! How the hell are we supposed to eat it?!”

“Well, you start with one of these,” Heather said, holding up a cake slicer with a teasing smile. “You'll need plates and forks...”

“Very funny,” Scott retorted. “Seriously, it's too gorgeous to cut up!”

“It tastes even better than it looks,” Heather said. “It's a chocolate cake, with pureed raspberry filling and chocolate buttercream icing under the fondant.”

“Okay, I think I'll manage to cut into it,” Scott said.

Heather carefully slid the cake onto an unmade box. She deftly folded up the sides and inserted the tabs. After tying it up with a ribbon, she said to Scott, “Set this somewhere where it can't move about or be jostled. If you can't, I can run it over to Lee and Gail's this afternoon.”

“Don't worry,” Scott said. “I can handle it.”

“Just drive carefully and don't go into any potholes,” she said sternly, wagging her index finger at him.

“Were you this domineering when we were together?” Scott asked.

“If you like it, maybe I should have been,” Heather teased.

“Great, now I've got an image of you dressed up like Bettie Page,” Scott said with a groan.

“I may have a cat o'nine tails laying around...”

Scott carefully picked up the box.

“I ... I better get moving,” he said, trying to inject heartiness into his voice. “Million things to do, you know.”

Heather smiled.

“Have a good time at the party,” she said. “I hope it's a hit.”

Scott impulsively leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks again, Heather,” he said.

After he left, Heather held her fingertips gingerly up to her flaming cheek where he'd kissed her. Oh, good Lord, she thought. He's still got it.

* * *

“Mom, have you seen my dorm bedding?” Maxie Jones hollered down the stairs.

“Under the guest room bed, in those vacuum-seal storage bags,” Felicia called back up from where she was sitting on the couch, folding a massive pile of just-laundered bath and kitchen towels. “I cleaned them before putting them away – don't open them or the comforter won't be nice and flat!”

A few minutes went by.

“Found 'em! Thanks, Mom!”

Felicia got up and went upstairs. “Use the guest room for packing,” she suggested. “That way, you know what you've packed.”

Maxie nodded. She was moving back into the PCU dorm next week, and was spending the day getting organized.

“By the way, I picked up new bed pillows and a memory foam mattress pad for you at Target today,” Felicia said. “I also got you some new bath towels that I just washed. They're downstairs.”

“Thanks!” Maxie turned and went downstairs. Felicia followed her. Maxie stood looking at the laundry pile, and the mass of shopping bags, furrowing her brow.

“All this for me?” Maxie asked.

Felicia laughed. “No, just this bag with the pillows, this one with the pad, and the hot pink towels in the basket,” she said. “I'll fold them and set them over there with the other stuff.”

Maxie peeked in the bags – shower curtains and liners, throw pillows, bed pillows, wool blankets.

“What's with all this stuff?” she asked.

“Stuff for Luke,” Felicia said, folding a hand towel. At the mention of Luke's name, Maxie saw red. She'd never liked her mother's friendship with Luke Spencer. They were too close, too chummy for Maxie's taste. Her mom liked adventure, and Maxie was always afraid she'd throw over her life with Mac for a taste of that with Luke. She would never admit that Luke, with his danger-loving ways and WSB connections, reminded her of her father, Frisco.

“What's he need your help for?” Maxie said. “Doesn't he have a wife to do these things for him?”

Felicia explained about the Johnsons coming in on Monday. Maxie felt a twinge of shame – she'd been online a little while ago and saw the news updates about the storm. She felt bad for them.

“Laura stayed in New York until this morning so she could be here early next week and help out Epiphany and the family,” Felicia concluded. “She and I are going shopping later today for the kitchen supplies. I wish Alexis was home to help out with that. Lucy said she'd handle the comforter sets.”

“Luke's got his own little harem working for him,” Maxie said with a laugh designed to hide her true feelings.

“Well, it's what friends do,” Felicia said. “Friends like Luke really helped when I was going through my depression. I think a little shopping is the least I can do.”

Maxie sat down.

“What did Luke do for you?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“It's something you'll learn in life, Maxie,” Felicia said. “Different friends give different things. Lucy was my rock – she could come in here and cheer me up with her energy, but turn on a dime if I just needed someone to listen. She'd listen with her whole body, leaning forward, eyes never leaving my face. Kevin helped me find my voice through writing before I was ready to really talk about things. Bobbie would come over and help me do things when I was feeling overwhelmed. Tony understood so much, after what he'd been through. Laura was so empathetic, so kind and motherly. She gave me hope – if she could survive losing Lucky the way we thought she did, maybe I could get through this.”

Felicia looked down at the bath towel in her hand, and continued.

“Luke isn't a tea-and-sympathy type,” she said. “In fact, he was unsympathetic some of the time. But he understood, and cut to the chase. One day after I got out of the hospital, I couldn't take it anymore. I thought I had to leave. I felt like I would die if I stayed and put you girls and Mac through more pain.”

Maxie remembered that time and looked away, forcing back the tears.

“I was running around the house, throwing things into a gym bag,” Felicia said. “Then all of a sudden, the doorbell rang and there was Luke. I told him how I was feeling, that I was getting out, and he said, 'so you're running away.' I was really mad that he saw it, so I threw back, 'yeah, so what?' That's when he hit me with reality – no matter how far or fast I ran away, I couldn't get away from myself. It's like that old saying, 'No matter where you go, there you are.' So I could run for the rest of my life, and destroy myself, or I could stand and face myself. I spent the next four hours after he left just writing in my journal. And I never thought about running away again.”

Maxie sat quietly for a moment.

“It must've been hard, trying to deal with depression and having to take care of me and Georgie,” she said.

“Are you kidding?” Felicia said. “You girls, and Mac, are the main reason I survived. Taking care of you – making you breakfast, coming to a school play, things like that – is the reason I was able to force myself out of bed in the mornings. If I didn't have you guys, I would've just laid there and let the depression take me. I knew deep down I couldn't leave you, either by running away or ... suicide. The latter was never an option, not after your father had left you girls the way he did.”

“I guess he had to be good for something,” Maxie said wryly. Felicia laughed in spite of the sadness she felt over Maxie's disconnect from Frisco. She remembered the man who went through fire for his family and friends. Maxie only knew him as someone who abandoned his family for his own selfish pursuit of adventure.

“Anyway,” Felicia said. “I wanted to ask you a favor. The Johnsons are coming in on Monday. Georgie said she'd be there to help out, and bring Dillon. Could you rustle up a strapping young man or two to help the Johnsons move their stuff in? It'd be good for Epiphany's son to meet people closer to his own age, in case they do have to stay on for a while.”

“I think I can do that,” Maxie said. “I better get finished with the packing.”

Maxie picked up her pillows and towels and went upstairs. Felicia looked up after her with pride. What a strong girl, she thought. Then she went back to folding towels.

Maxie quietly shut her bedroom door. While Felicia thought she was packing, Maxie sat on the bed, hugging a pillow and trying not to cry.

* * *

Courtney Matthews lifted a cantaloupe to her nose, sniffed and put it into her grocery cart with a smile.

Those raspberries look good too, she thought. Just then, there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned around.

“Jeremy, hi!” Courtney said.

“How's it going?” Jeremy Logan asked. “Are you trying any of the recipes Heather gave us?”

“I think I'm going to do the grilled salmon tonight,” Courtney said. They'd started the cooking classes with Heather Webber, and were having fun. Courtney discovered cooking for one didn't have to be boring. Jeremy liked the creative outlet.

“I'm doing the Greek salad,” Jeremy said. “I love feta cheese.”

They wheeled down the produce aisle together, picking up odds and ends along the way. Courtney stopped in the bakery and put two whole wheat rolls into a bag for herself, then picked up some whole wheat tortillas.

“You seem pretty chipper today,” Jeremy said as he stopped at the deli and filled a small take-out container with Kalamata olives, then another with feta cheese. “What's up?”

“I think I'm finally unloading Sonny's penthouse,” Courtney said with a happy sigh as they went to the fish counter, and Courtney got her salmon. “It's been sitting on the market since he died. It's the last thing of his I have to get rid of. I had to discount it a good bit, but the buyer matched the current list price. If everything clears escrow and the title search, I'll have shrugged off that albatross for good.”

“Excellent,” Jeremy said. “What are you going to do with the money?”

“Half is going to my foundation,” Courtney said. “The other half, I'll do something special for myself. I'm due for a vacation, so it'll probably be that.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jeremy said. “So, who bought the penthouse?”

“I didn't recognize the name,” Courtney replied. “He's a doctor, gave his address as someplace in Virginia. I heard my agent talking with his – I think they said he's one of the new interns over at General Hospital.”

“Must be a trust fund baby to afford that place,” Jeremy commented as he put boneless center-cut pork chops into his cart.

“As long as his check is good, and he's not looking to become Sonny Corinthos II, I don't care,” Courtney said, reaching for ground turkey breast. “Sounds like he's in a hurry. He'll take the place as-is. And he's welcome to that tomb.”

“Your memories of it aren't good,” Jeremy said. Courtney was quiet for a moment as they moved along.

“My memories are of my dad kissing Sonny's behind, and Sonny yelling and throwing barware at me when I wouldn't put up with his he-man woman-hater act,” Courtney said with an eyeroll. “I hope this Dr. Drake is happy there. Maybe he can do an exorcism.”

“Dr. what?” Jeremy demanded, almost dropping the carton of eggs he'd just picked up.

“Drake,” Courtney said, putting a small tub of mascarpone cheese in her cart. “I think Patrick was his first name. That's it – G. Patrick Drake. Why?”

“Nothing, just a funny coincidence,” Jeremy said. “There was a Dr. Drake at GH when I was a kid. He and Mom dated for a while.”

“Maybe they're related,” Courtney said.

“Nah,” Jeremy said, checking the expiration date on a carton of milk. “Probably just a coincidence.”

* * *

The ELQ jet touched down at Port Charles International Airport. AJ, Carly, Michael and Morgan Quartermaine sat while the plane taxied to the private plane terminal, separate from the terminal for commercial flights.

Carly sighed. It had been a wonderful vacation on the Vineyard. Michael and AJ went out every morning on the little Sunfish boat, AJ teaching Michael how to work the sail. In a few years, Michael would be ready for sailing lessons. The afternoons were spent on the beach together. Michael and Carly would swim while AJ played in the sand with Morgan. A few days, Michael was off with friends, so Leticia would take Morgan to the beach while AJ and Carly had some quiet couple time. They went to lunch at the Black Dog in Vineyard Haven once, and spent the afternoon in the shops. A couple of times, they just went upstairs and spent the afternoon in bed.

Most evenings were quiet family time. Morgan usually went to bed right after supper. AJ, Carly and Michael would hang out in the living room. They played Monopoly a few nights. Carly taught Michael how to play Peanuts, a form of double solitaire. Michael and AJ played checkers while Carly read a magazine.

Michael was completely absorbed in the vacation and didn't think about back home at all, except to send his grandparents postcards. Carly thought little of home, and the troubles there. After a few days, AJ began to feel better. I was silly to let that phone call get to me, he thought, but I'm glad we had the vacation anyway.

“Back to the same old, same old,” Carly said, smiling over at AJ.

“Yeah,” AJ said. “And Michael starts school right after Labor Day.”

Michael groaned. “Back to pencils, back to books, back to Teacher's dirty looks,” he chanted glumly.

Carly giggled. “He takes after me,” she said to AJ.

“Cheer up, Buddy,” AJ said. “You get to play lacrosse again next week.”

Michael brightened. “I can't wait! I wonder whose team I'm on?”

“We'll call today or tomorrow, okay?” AJ said.

Just then, the plane door opened and the family disembarked. They walked into the terminal, and waited while their bags were loaded into the limo. Carly turned to AJ.

“Do you mind if we stop and see my mom first?” she asked. “I want to give her and Lucas the fudge I picked up. This way, I don't have to go out again today. I think I'll take a nap when I get home, if that's okay.”

“If you don't mind me joining you,” AJ said, putting his arm around her waist and nuzzling her neck. Michael looked up at them.

“Mushy,” he teased, making a gagging noise.

* * *

Laura and Felicia wheeled their carts into the kitchen area of the Bed Bath & Beyond.

“Let's see,” Laura said, looking around then checking the list. “Pots and pans, first.” She put two sets of nonstick pots and pans into her cart. Then, on impulse, she put in a large Le Crueset pot for Celeste to make her gumbo and jambalaya. Two griddle/grill pans were next.

“Luke told me a little about Epiphany,” Felicia said. Laura smiled.

“I met her through her mother,” Laura said. “Celeste was the lunch shift manager of a restaurant near where I was working. Luke was working down on the docks with a shrimping outfit. It turned out we lived about a mile from the Johnsons. Epiphany was going to nursing school at the time, and she offered to babysit Lucky after school for a little extra cash. She and I hit it off right away. She's so funny and blunt – one of the few people who can put Luke in his place.”

“Just for that, I can't wait to meet her,” Felicia said with a laugh. Two knife sets went into her cart.

“She and her parents were the only ones we trusted with our secret, that we were on the run from Frank Smith,” Laura said. “I always knew if something happened to Luke and me, that Lucky would be safe with them until they could get him home to Port Charles.”

Felicia picked up some mixing bowls, and hand-held mixers. Laura started picking through the utensils – spoons, spatulas, can openers, graters.

“What's her son like?” Felicia asked.

“Stan is the nicest young man,” Laura said warmly. “And so smart! He got a full scholarship to Tulane for computer science. Epiphany was merciless with him growing up. She never let him run around with a lot of the kids in the neighborhood. They lived on the edge of a pretty rough area, and Epiphany knew that if Stan got in with that crowd, there could be trouble. So she kept him busy and close to home. Once he started doing well in school, he really found his place. It took him five years, but he finally got his degree. He'd been doing temp work since then, looking for a full-time job, but nothing happened.”

“He sounds really great,” Felicia said. “I'm sure Lucky will introduce him around. He'll have friends in no time, if they have to stay.”

“Where they live worries me,” Laura said. “It's close to the levees, and if those give way, the house could be seriously damaged. I'm just so glad they're getting away. A lot of people down there can't.”

“Here's the dishes area,” Felicia said. They chose simple white stoneware, with plain flatware. Drinking glasses followed into Felicia's cart.

“We can't fit another thing in here,” Felicia said. “Let's go bring this over to the apartments. If we think of anything else, I can make a run tomorrow.”

* * *

Alan and Monica Quartermaine were sitting on the patio off the parlor with a light lunch of crostinis topped with hummus and diced red pepper, and iced tea.

Their idyll was shattered by the bang of the front door.

“Gramma, Grandpa, we're home!” Michael shouted, running into the foyer. Alan and Monica jumped up and went into the parlor. Michael came running in with a big hug for each.

“Look at you!” Alan said. “All those freckles! And you still smell like the ocean! Did you have a good time?”

“The best!” Michael said. “Dad and I went sailing. Next summer, can you come down and take out the Lila? Huh, Grandpa? Can you?”

Amidst the chatter, AJ, Carly, Morgan and Leticia walked in. Carly pointed a finger at Alan dramatically.

“You!” she cried, then flung herself into his arms and gave him several hearty kisses on the cheek.

“I take it you stopped in to Bobbie's,” Alan said, laughing.

“Oh, my God!” Carly cried, flailing her arms in her excitement and almost sending Michael sprawling. “Oops! Sorry, honey. Mom's just a leeeetle excited. And it really was unanimous?”

“Absolutely,” Alan said. “As soon as Stefan nominated her, Tony looked up and said, 'I think we can go straight to the vote now.' That was that.”

Carly's eyes sparkled, and she did a little shimmy of pride and happiness on the Persian rug. Just then, Jason walked in from the foyer.

“Hey,” he said. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks!” Carly and AJ said in unison. Michael went over to Jason and hugged him.

“How've you been, Michael?” Jason asked.

“We had a great time!” Michael said, then launched into telling about the whole week at once.

“Your uncle might want to go somewhere in the next few hours, Michael, so save some stories for later,” Carly finally broke in as she reached into a canvas tote on the couch. “This is for you,” she added, holding out a white box to Jason. He looked at the box and his face brightened.

“Murdick's fudge!” he exclaimed, and tore into the box. “It's as good as I remembered,” he said, talking around the fudge. After swallowing, he began to laugh.

“Your dad loved this as much as I do, Michael,” he said. “Unfortunately, one night, he loved it a little too much.”

Jason was remembering a night where a young AJ gorged himself sick on fudge, and embarrassed himself in front of the grown-ups. He was hoping AJ would writhe from the memory. But instead, he joined Alan and Monica in a shout of laughter.

“I couldn't eat that stuff for years after that,” AJ said, wiping his eyes. Jason felt a little deflated that his effort to embarrass AJ in front of Michael had failed.

“What's in the bag, Jason?” Monica asked.

“Birthday present for Karen's surprise party tonight,” he said.

“That's tonight?!” Carly exclaimed. “Damn, I forgot all about it!”

“Are you still going to go?” Jason asked.

“I don't know,” Carly said. “We didn't get a gift, we'd have to change and go shopping almost right now then head over there. What do you think, AJ?”

“Whatever you like,” AJ replied. “Think for a few minutes while I take the boys up.”

After AJ and the boys left, Jason said, “Come on, Carly, it'll be a good time.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” she said, rubbing her face. “I'm just beat. We've been up since four this morning closing up the house, getting to the ferry, then to the airport and now home. I was really looking forward to a nap.”

“You go take one, Carly,” Monica said. “Alan and I can leave a little early and pick something out for you and have it wrapped. I keep a box of cards in that blue box on my office shelf – pick out a birthday card from there and sign it. And you can always come a little late, around seven or so. Karen'll understand.”

Jason held his breath as Carly considered it. Finally, she nodded.

“I think we'll do that,” she said. “Thanks. I'll see you guys later on.”

* * *

Maxie finished packing her late summer and early fall clothes. Since she was so close by, there was no point in bringing over coats and heavy sweaters yet. She could come home for those later on.

Felicia hadn't come home yet from shopping with Laura. She'd told Maxie if she was running late, she'd just go to the Baldwins' house from shopping and not stop at home. Georgie was going straight from an afternoon with Dillon to the party. She, Lulu Spencer and Brooke Lynn Ashton were going to be there for company for Scott's daughter, Serena. They'd have a sleepover after the party. Mac was going to the party from work.

Restless, Maxie paced her bedroom, poking in drawers to see if she missed anything. She spied her cell phone sitting on the dresser. There's an idea, she thought with a smile. She picked it up and dialed Jesse Beaudry's number.

“Hi there,” she purred.

“Hey, Maxie,” Jesse said. “How've you been?”

“Pretty good,” she said. “Getting ready to move back to school next week. What are you up to?”

“Just finished work,” he said. “It's double time on weekends, so it's two days' pay. Every bit helps.”

“Are you free?” Maxie asked. “I was thinking we could get together...”

“That'd be great, but where?” Jesse asked. “The people I'm staying with, they're back from their trip, so we can't go there.”

Maxie thought for a minute. No way could he come here. It was too big a chance to take.

“How about I spring for a hotel tonight?” she suggested. “Meet me at the Shangri-La on Route 5 in an hour. That good?”

“That's great,” Jesse said. “See you there.”

Just after she hung up, Maxie heard the garage door open. She thought quickly, coming up with a convincing story.

“Oh, thanks for straightening up down here!” Felicia said as Maxie came down. “I better go get ready. I have to be there in 20 minutes. What are you doing tonight?”

“Some friends are having a party tonight over near school,” Maxie said. “Nothing too big – just a cookout and then we'll hang out. I'll just stay there tonight, okay? I'll have my phone with me if you need to reach me.”

“Have a good time,” Felicia said, giving Maxie a kiss. Maxie headed toward the garage and Felicia went upstairs.

* * *

Karen Wexler pulled into the driveway of the home where her grandparents, Lee and Gail Baldwin, lived. They were going to have a birthday dinner for her, with cake. Afterwards, she was meeting friends Sam McCall, Elizabeth Webber, Robin Scorpio, Gia Campbell and Mary Bishop for drinks at Luke's.

Or so she thought. As she walked up to the old Tudor-style home, she had no idea that all her friends had parked at a nearby school and walked over. Scott had sent them all down to the basement with strict orders to be quiet until it was time to surprise her.

Looking in the front window, she saw Scott and Serena playing a video game in the living room. Lee was in his leather wing chair, reading a magazine. Gail, Karen figured, was in the kitchen cooking.

“Hi!” she said, sticking her head in the door. Scott and Serena said “Hi!” in unison, but stayed focused on the game.

“There's the birthday girl!” Lee said, getting up slowly from his chair. “You look pretty tonight,” he said, giving her a hug and a kiss. Karen was wearing a turquoise camisole, a brown crocheted shrug with silver threads running through the yarn, brown pants and brown ballet flats trimmed in turquoise and silver sequins. A perfect outfit for a casual family dinner and evening out.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” she said. “Where's Gram?”

“Right here, Darling,” Gail said, coming out of the kitchen and into the dining room. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks!” Karen said, kissing Gail on the cheek. “Anything I can do to help?”

“It's your birthday,” Serena said, not taking her eyes from the game. “You're not supposed to do anything!”

“Actually, Karen, could you run down to the cellar and get my big white platter?” Gail asked. “I'll be needing it in a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Karen said, and headed towards the cellar door. She turned on the light, and walked down the stairs. As she rounded the corner to the bottom half of the stairs, there came a cry of, “Surprise!”

Karen let out a yelp as she looked up and saw the huge group crowded into the cellar. A few flashbulbs popped. She grabbed the railing.

“Oh, my God!” she cried, then began laughing. “Good one, Dad!” she called back upstairs.

“Gotcha!” Scott replied from the top of the stairs.