Annie and Fergus were once again best buds. They billed and cooed and never once mentioned money. Charles had stood his ground on his famous leave-taking at Thanksgiving two years before, and Myra had finally forgiven him, because, as she put it, she loved him and didn’t want to spend the rest of her life without him in it.
Kathryn’s leg had finally healed, with the promise from her doctors and surgeons that she could take to the open road after the first of the year. She had said the only good thing to come out of her accident, aside from the monetary gain, was that she could now accurately predict the weather better than any meteorologist.
There were two surprises left for the group as Thanksgiving approached. To Nikki and Jack’s delight, Cyrus became a father to five rambunctious pups, three girls and two boys, over the Labor Day weekend. The new pups were to be delivered to their daddy on Thanksgiving Day.
And then there was Dennis, who had fallen in love with one Mitzi Overton, a red-haired, freckle-faced UPS driver who picked up and delivered to Pinewood. He was a goner the day she let him ride with her on her deliveries. The day he confessed to being a spook for the CIA, as a joke, then told her how rich he was, Mitzi blacked out and Dennis had to make the rest of her deliveries himself. As he told the others, it was a relationship made in heaven. He did take back the story about being a CIA spook, to everyone’s relief.
Harry and Yoko had simply done what they normally did and had waited as they counted down the hours till they could head to China to see their daughter, Lily.
At three o’clock, Myra got up stiffly and hobbled around, craning her neck to the right and the left to ease the tension. “I am so glad we are done with all this. I have to be honest, I thought we’d never finish.” She tapped the old-fashioned ledger and said, “If it weren’t for this, we’d be here till this time next year. I so hope we covered everything. Abner’s idea for that eight hundred number for people to call will tell us if we got all of it right this time around. If not, we can always come back here and finish up. For now, I think we’re all golden. I say we hit the showers, then join Charles for some much-needed refreshment and a magnificent dinner, which I am sure he is preparing as we speak.”
The others clapped and did stretches and knee bends to limber up after their long hours of sitting and poring over reports and files.
And another mission was filed away with the word SUCCESSFUL stamped across the final box.
“Hold on, hold on, people!” Annie shouted. “These boxes aren’t going to walk their way upstairs. We need some strong arms to do that. You boys are elected. While you’re all doing that, we ladies will be headed for the showers. Dennis, you need to call your friend Mitzi to have these boxes delivered to Mr. Sparrow. If you have any clout with her, ask her to come in an empty truck. We don’t want any of these boxes getting mixed up with residential deliveries.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order, and Dennis recognized it as such.
Upstairs in the kitchen, the women swooned at the heavenly aromas that greeted them.
“Cocktails in ninety minutes, Charles,” Myra said as she swept by him to make her way to the back staircase that would take her to the second floor, the girls right behind her. She giggled, as did the others, when Charles swatted her tush with a dish towel.
Life was looking good.
Ninety minutes later, everyone was in the huge family room, with a fire roaring in the fireplace. While they were bone tired, there was still excitement in the air as drinks and canapés were handed around. The dogs all curled by the fire and snoozed in utter contentment.
Annie took to the floor. “I think we should make a toast to a job well done.” She held her wineglass aloft. The others joined her. Cyrus barked twice to get his vote in; then Lady echoed him. “That makes it official, people!”
And then they talked, giving Charles and Fergus, who were out of the loop, a detailed summary of what had gone on below for the past seven months. Myra took the floor. The others listened, spellbound. She ended forty minutes later with a parched throat, which she corrected by downing her glass of wine and holding it out for a refill.
“We gave away billions. I truly don’t think we missed anyone Angus Spyder, or Feodor Spyovich, trampled on. It’s possible, so we set aside monies, should that come to pass. Believe it or not, it is not easy deciding what someone’s life is worth. You simply cannot put a price tag on it. We did our best. We tried the best we could to make those people and their families whole again. Anonymously, of course. We have one billion dollars left offshore, which we can tap anytime we need to, thanks to Abner.
“We donated to Doctors Without Borders, the Wounded Warrior Project, every medical charity out there, no-kill animal shelters across the country, Seeing Eye dog farms all across the country, women’s shelters, children’s causes, different hospices that need help, scholarships, the Salvation Army, breast-cancer centers. We donated hundreds of thousands of computers for schools. We even set up free screening clinics for walk-in patients. We set up a fund nationwide where people can get free medicine if they can’t afford it. We donated to clinics so people can get free care if they can’t afford it. We donated heavily. Even so, we barely made a dent in Spyder’s fortune.
“Realizing that, we set up an organization to which every one of the places I just mentioned can apply for more funds. The paperwork took forever, but we did it. Nikki and Jack are going to hire an outside group to monitor it all. For now, it’s the best we can do. We can do more. There’s a never-ending need for help, and we’ll see to it that every cent of Spyder’s money goes where it will be needed the most. It goes without saying that we helped ourselves to a good portion of the money, to be used by us to continue to right the wrongs of others. We did take a vote on that, too. We were all in agreement.”
“What is the latest on the Domingos and Irina and Gretchen?” Yoko asked.
Charles spoke up. “Pearl called me yesterday to tell me the Domingos are safely housed in Miami. They were given new identities, and no, she did not tell me what they are. She said they accepted twenty-five million dollars, and she had to twist their arms to agree to it. They now live in a nice tree-shaded community with, as she put it, real sidewalks, where the twins can walk to the park. They agreed to send pictures of the twins monthly to Pearl, along with little progress reports for school, their activities, and such, so she can forward them to Gretchen and Greg. Gretchen and Greg both agreed not to interfere in their lives, with the understanding that when the twins reach eighteen, they be given the right to see or not see each other.”
“Where are they now? What about Irina?” Isabelle asked.
“Gretchen’s surgery was a success, to a point,” Charles explained. “She can walk, is in intense therapy, and will always have a noticeable limp. But she’s okay with that. She says she can dance again, albeit a little lopsided. She and Greg plan to marry over the Christmas holidays, when Irina’s family is due to arrive here in the States, thanks to Jack Sparrow and Immigration. We set aside monies for Gretchen and Greg. She was adamant about not wanting it, but we put it in a trust for them.
“Felicia, or Irina, as she prefers to be called, didn’t want any money, either. We pointed out that she cashed in her jewelry and that came from Angus, so she agreed to a fund for her family. She wasn’t greedy at all. All she wanted was for her family to have nice little houses with picket fences so they could have gardens full of flowers and vegetables. Her only real request was to be near a Russian Orthodox church, which we made happen. They are all going to take up residence in Reston, Virginia.”
“Guess that means all is well that ends well,” Nikki said happily. “I think this was our worst case so far, but the most rewarding in the end.”
“Except for Hank Jellicoe,” Annie said sourly.
“There’s always tomorrow, Annie. One of these days, we’ll nail that son of a bitch,” Jack said cheerfully. “Listen, I’m starved. When are we eating, Charles?”
“How about r
ight now?” Charles said, getting up and heading for the kitchen.
Dinner was all everyone wanted it to be. Delicious, pleasant, good friends surrounded by other good friends.
When dinner was over, the girls took charge, and within minutes, the kitchen and dining room were sparkling clean and everyone was once more in the family room, with coffee and brandy.
Ten minutes into the last toast of the day, eyes drooped wearily as heads tilted to the side.
“Guess it’s just you and me, Fergus. Dress up. Time to take these pooches out for a stroll. I’ve got the cigars and the treats for the dogs. Then, my friend, we come back in to get ready for our Thanksgiving feast tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you tell them, Charles?” Fergus asked.
“Tomorrow is soon enough. To be honest,” Charles said, shrugging into his anorak, “I’m not sure how Myra is going to take it.”
“Now, that I understand.”
Thanksgiving dinner was the same for Pinewood as it was across the country. A giant thirty-pound turkey cooked to perfection, every side dish known to man, along with Charles’s plum pudding and, of course, pumpkin pie made from the fruits of Myra’s own garden.
The moment grace was said and Charles picked up the carving knife, every person in the room froze in place as he or she remembered another Thanksgiving, when dinner was interrupted and Charles was whisked away by the spooks of MI5.
Charles looked up from the turkey and said, “I’m here to stay.”
The conversation picked up as plate after plate was passed around the table.
Everyone was there, even Elias Cummings, Nellie’s husband, whom no one had expected to make it so far into the year. Elias was having a good day and for brief moments recognized one or another of the group. Pearl was antsy and said she was going to have to leave the minute dinner was over because she had a family she needed to send on its way, and today was the perfect day to do it since everyone was with family. The group offered up a toast in the middle of dinner for the wonderful, secretive work she did safeguarding families from those who wished them harm.
Charles was just about to serve dessert when the outside warning monitor came to life. Myra turned white at the sound. Charles reached for her arm. She shook his hand off as memories assailed her.
“Relax, everyone. I think Cyrus’s kids are being delivered,” Nikki said as she ran through the dining room to the kitchen.
She was right. Two women stood at the door with blanket-wrapped bundles. A third woman held bags of something or other. Nikki opened the door wide, and suddenly the kitchen was flooded with people and animals.
“Hey, buddy, your kids are here,” Jack said, bending down so he was eye level with Cyrus, who was eyeballing the blanket-wrapped bundles. And then he whooped and pounced as he saw his offspring for the first time. He moved then at the speed of light as he picked up one pup. Lady picked up another, and then Lady’s pups picked up the rest and ran to the family room, with the people beings tripping behind them. They all watched as the dogs settled the new pups into their own beds, then sat down to watch over them.
Jack swiped at his eyes, as did everyone else. Cyrus threw back his head and howled. Translation. . . “Where are the cigars?”
Jack ran to the kitchen and brought out a box of cigars he’d bought earlier to celebrate the occasion.
“One puff in celebration, and then you have to put them out. Cigar smoke is not good for new puppies,” Myra said. No one knew for sure if that was true or not, but they did what she said.
Cyrus yipped his approval as he checked on his sleeping kids.
“Time for dessert,” Charles said, breaking the spell. “And I have a surprise for you all. Can we please get to it?”
Dessert served, coffee poured, Charles walked around the massive table, handing out heavy cream-colored invitations with a huge gold seal. He then took his place at the head of the table and waited for the reaction of his little family, which wasn’t all that little today.
“Oh my goodness. It’s an invitation to dinner at Buckingham Palace on Sunday,” Annie said. Her expression was so neutral, Fergus flinched and Charles swallowed hard.
His gaze was on his wife as he waited.
Nikki nudged Jack. She whispered, “See, see? She’s looking at Annie, and she’s making a decision with no words. How do they do that?”
Jack shrugged.
“How nice, Charles. But since we are all scheduled to depart for China on Sunday morning, how is that going to work?” Nikki asked.
“We’ll leave a day later out of Heathrow. That’s if it’s all right with all of you. I told Lizzie I would call her after dinner. She’s excited, doubly so, now that the new age city is back in her hands. Are we all in agreement? I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm for some reason.”
“Why is that, dear?” Myra said sweetly.
“Quit while you’re ahead,” Fergus whispered into Charles’s ear.
“I guess because the queen never invites people to dinner. And she is making a special exception because she wants to meet all of you and to thank you in person.”
“How sweet,” Myra said, tongue in cheek. “I do not curtsy to any woman, Charles.”
“Me either,” Annie shot out.
The other girls voiced their agreement.
Charles knew he was in hot water that was going to boil any second. “I just had a thought. Why don’t I give her a call and say, ‘Thank you, but we can’t make it at this time, as we are going to China to see Lily’?”
“That, dear, is a very sweet idea. Isn’t it, girls?”
“We just love, love, love it, Myra,” Kathryn said.
“Good thinking, fearless leader,” Fergus hissed into Charles’s ear.
Charles’s sigh was so mighty, it could have blown out the fire in the family-room fireplace.
“Cleanup time!” Annie announced.
The gang fell to it.
The hustle and bustle at Pinewood as the group prepared to depart for the airport would have made a sane person insane. Bags were being loaded into the Post van and extra cars. Presents for Lily were stacked high by the door. The dogs were yipping and yapping, adding to the confusion. Cyrus was at the door with his beloved duck.
Jack whistled, and Cyrus ran to him. “Listen, buddy, you can’t go. They have this thing in foreign countries about animals. They keep you in a cage for days. You don’t have the right shots. You’ll get sick from the different food. I want you to go—we all do—but it’s impossible.”
Cyrus looked at his master, and Jack swore he saw tears in the big dog’s eyes.
“You aren’t buying this crap, are you?”
Cyrus barked loudly.
“Okay, here’s the skinny on things, Cyrus. You’re a dad now. You need to stay and watch your kids. You don’t want someone else messing with them, do you? Of course you don’t. They need you, Cyrus. Yeah, Lady is good with her own pups, but these are yours. Yours, Cyrus. So, what’s it gonna be?”
Cyrus waited all of one minute, then put his paws on Jack’s shoulders and licked his face. Then he barked in his ear. Translation . . . “Okay, I’m giving you this one, because you’re right.” He flew out of the room, his beloved duck clenched in his teeth.
Jack offered up a sloppy salute to his dog, his eyes wet.
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Annie bellowed.
“China, here we come!” Yoko and Harry cried out happily in unison.
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y, Georgia
Mikala Aulani looked around her office for the last time. Now that her thirty-five-year professional life was packed up in boxes, and the pictures, diplomas, and photographs were off the wall, her personal space looked huge. Jay would have to paint the walls to cover up the telltale signs of where all the plaques had been hung. She eyed her old leather chair, which swiveled and rocked. She really had meant to have the crack in the leather repaired; it had been on her to-do list for years and years. She wondered now why it was she’d never taken the time to do it. But, then, she found herself wondering about a lot of things lately, not that it made a difference.
Jay Brighton and Linda Carpenter, husband and wife and newly minted senior partners, carried the packed and taped boxes out to the reception area. At some point later that day, someone would come and take them to a storage unit Kala had rented a month ago. All except for the single box that sat on top of her desk. That box was going with her. She was personally going to carry it down to the underground garage and personally put it on the passenger seat of her car, then drive it to her home, where she would put it in a closet in her bedroom. Sophie Lee deserved a closet rather than a storage unit, where her records would never again see the light of day.
Jay Brighton stood in the doorway. “That about does it, Kala. Told you we’d have this locked down in time for you to make your retirement luncheon.”
Kala looked up at her former partner and grimaced. “I’ve decided I’m not going. Call Ben and tell him I have a bellyache.”
Ben was Judge Benjamin Jefferson, Kala’s significant other of twenty-five years. Ben had retired two weeks earlier, and Kala had thrown a surprise luncheon, inviting all of his peers. For no other reason except retaliation, Ben had decided to do the same for her. His theory was, if he’d had to suffer through the shitty food, the boring speeches, and the overblown testimonials, then so should she.
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