Episode One

Episode Two

Episode Three

****

Marge Alderwell liked doing dishes by hand, at least some of the time. She found it relaxing. She liked the feeling of warm running water and she liked a task that could be completed successfully every time, as long as the water was warm enough and the dishes not left unwashed for too long. She looked out the window across the parking lot as she scrubbed.

Steve Hartinger was out on his balcony, watering his plants in his bathrobe. Which he doesn't seem to want to be bothered tying, Marge noticed. True, he was wearing boxer-style under shorts, which weren't much different than regular men's shorts, really ... Anyway, at least he takes good care of his plants. Though I wish he didn't have to wave at me all the time, like he knows I can see him.

Marge heard the shower stop, loudly and abruptly as usual as Grady must have been stepping out and getting ready for his big day at the home improvement store. Of course there was precious little they needed to do, or even could do, to maintain the interior of a two-bedroom condo. Certainly nothing that required frequent trips to the home improvement store. But maintenance shopping and projects were Grady's therapy, and who was Marge to deny it to him. Besides, they had the nicest set of custom-built shelving units in their large bathroom of any other unit at Rosedale.

As Grady came waltzing into the kitchen (okay, not waltzing, exactly, but not lumbering, stomping or shuffling either), Marge looked out the window again and noticed Mike, the superintendent of the complex, walking around the parking lot with a screwdriver. Why wasn't he wearing his utility belt if he was fixing something - wouldn't that have been easier?

She asked Grady if he wanted another cup of coffee, which he didn't. (She know he wouldn't, but of course she had to ask.)

"What are you going to do this morning?" he asked.

"Oh, the usual. And don't forget -- Didi's tonight."

Marge had almost forgotten, but putting away the coffee cups reminded her of the plate she still needed to return to Didi. And now dinner. How had she gotten herself involved in this? Of course Didi's just looking for allies, Marge thought. Marge had agreed to announce Didi's candidacy in the newsletter, since it was truly news (and not exactly a secret). Of course, nobody else had ever used the newsletter in that way before (and obviously she'd give equal time to anybody who wanted their candidacy announced, but nobody else ever did). But she thought Didi was interesting, in her own way, and she was dying to see what Didi had done with her condo.

"See you later," Grady said, on his way out the door.

"Bye, honey," she replied, and thought about what she was going to wear to Didi's.

Episode Four

Episode Five

******

"But Burt, you've known about this dinner all week. Can't Janie watch the grandchildren?"

Didi paced around the kitchen holding the cell phone with one hand and rummaging through the refrigerator with the other.

"Well, I told you why this was important to me. You could have at least told me earlier," she told him.

Burt's family ties were a constant source of annoyance in their relationship. It was admirable, of course, that his family was important to him, but his obligations almost always got in the way of the things Didi wanted to do, and tonight was no exception.

"Well, listen, I can't talk much longer. They're going to be here in twenty minutes and I still have to set the table." There wasn't much point in complaining to Burt. He was always sorry, but he always did whatever he wanted to just the same.

She hung up the phone and finished preparing the roast. As she glanced out the window into the parking lot, she noticed Lacey Grundle riding her expensive ten-speed bike up to her garage and opening the garage door to put it away.

No wonder nothing ever gets done around here, Didi thought. She spends all her time riding around on that bicycle she doesn't have time to get defective light bulbs replaced or follow up on leaks in the basement that have been going on for years now.

She placed the roast carefully in the oven - Marge and Grady were sure to be impressed with this dish, especially the sweet potato and pear combination - and started setting the table.

Upon glancing out on the balcony, she noticed that her Sansivera was looking a little dry. She stepped out onto the balcony and looked around for her watering can. It took all of ten seconds to realize it was gone - stolen by someone.

Well, no wonder, she thought. The security lights don't work, the place is falling to pieces. She knew more than ever that the condo association needed leadership. Real leadership.

*******

Lacey changed out of her riding clothes but didn't bother showering. Nobody would be smelling her tonight (thankfully!).

She poured a cup of hot tea and turned on the computer. If she started the import procedure in the next few minutes, the database could be updated, tested and backed up by eleven and she'd still be able to get a good night's sleep before heading into the office tomorrow to deal with upgrading the desktops. One of these days, she promised herself, I'm going to get an entire weekend to myself without having to dial in.

When her desktop came up she used the company's remote client to access her work computer and launched the necessary applications. She purposely avoided checking her e-mail: no sense making this any more painful than it has to be. She started the backup process on the current data store and walked into the kitchen to deal with the dishes and glasses that had accumulated since about Thursday.

As she loaded the dishwasher, the front door buzzer sounded. Oh God, she thought, not tonight.

"It's Mrs. Patel," said the voice on the intercom. "I just need to talk to you for a minute."

Resigned, Lacey buzzed her in. Condo business, of course. Something stupid, something trivial, something else that she would have to deal with. Lacey knew that Didi was planning to run against her for condo president at Wednesday's meeting, and part of her would have loved to hand the whole thing over to someone else. Lord knows the job isn't glamorous and she'd been doing it for three years now.

But Lacey's competitive nature just wouldn't allow her to be beaten by someone, especially Didi Prescott. She could only imagine that life at Rosedale would be like under the Prescott regime - mandatory lights out at ten, new regulations for window boxes and porch furniture, laminated hall passes ... No, she was not going to lose an election to Didi Prescott.

Dari Patel knocked and Lacey opened the door. Lacey smiled wearily and invited Dari in.

"You told me we could park the station wagon in front of the garage until we finished unpacking, didn't you?" There was a slight note of accusation in Mrs. Patel's tone, as well as a quivery kind of frustration.

"I'm sorry ..." Lacey said, trying to remember when, exactly, they'd discussed the Patels' station wagon.

"We have a lot of boxes - and furniture - and we still have some painting to do in the living room and the guest room. It's only been a week or so ..."

"I don't understand, Dari. What's the problem?"

"Didi Prescott. She left a note on our car telling us we weren't allowed to park it in front of the garage except on a temporary basis. I was going to talk to her myself, but she's so arrogant. I've never met anybody so arrogant."

Lacey decided to tread carefully.

"Well, Didi's fond of rules. That's for sure. Listen ..." Lacey began but was cut short by the phone ringing.

Normally Lacey would have let it go to voice mail, but there was a chance it was one of the network guys calling to have her hold off on the import because somebody was working in the database. She picked it up.

"Hi," came the voice at the other end, tentative and sheepish (and more than a little hungover). Not now.

"Yes, can I call you back a little later," she told him. "I've got somebody here ..."

"I just wanted to say," Mike began, clearing his throat a little, "I don't want things to be weird with us, you know. I mean, Sarah's coming back later and I ..."

"That's no problem," Lacey said with a somewhat forced, cheerful tone (for Dari's benefit). "No problem at al, really."

"I mean," Mike continued, "I had a great time. I really did. And I really like you, Lacey, as a person."

"Yes, yes, of course you do. I know that," she answered. As a person, she thought. What else would he like her as?

"I just want to hear it from you, Lacey," Dari told her. "If Didi says anything again, I want to be able to tell her that you said it was all right."

"Of course it's all right, Dari," Lacey told her. "But do you know how long you're going to need to park there? It is a little tight with all the other cars ..."

"I don't know, Lacey!" Dari said, getting a little impatient. "If I could park it in the garage now, I would, but I can't until they finish painting. There's still plenty of room between the station wagon and the other cars in the parking lot. Honestly!"

"I understand, Dari ..."

"Don't patronize me because I'm Indian, Lacey! I've lived in this country longer than you've been alive!"

"So we're still friends, right?" Mike asked.

"Dari, I'm not ..." Lacey told Dari, "I just need to tell Didi something if she asks me ..."

"You sound mad? Are you mad?" Mike asked.

"I would tell you something to tell Didi Prescott, but I'm too much of a lady. Thanks for nothing!"

"Listen, I just think we both ... oh, I think that's Sarah now. I'd better go. I'll call you during the week." And with that, Mike hung up.

"Dari ..." Lacey called, but she was already out the door.

Episode Six

*************

Didi stood in the hallway outside the tenants' door and composed herself. She took a deep breath and knocked, firmly but gently.

The door opened suddenly. Marty Gomes stood in the doorway in a black t-shirt with the name of some rock group and their logo on it (the typeface was very strange and the letters slightly worn, so Didi didn't have time to make it out, and certainly wouldn't have heard of it, anyway). Marty gave Didi a "patient" look.

"Hi Marty," Didi began. "Listen, I know it's only seven thirty, but it is a Sunday night and ..."

Marty shifted onto his other foot.

"I'm having some people over tonight and the music is coming through pretty loud. I wonder if you could turn it down, just a bit?"

"Sure, Didi. No problem," Marty responded. He maintained his expression, which seemed vaguely like impatience, even though if anyone had the right to be impatient ...

"Thanks. It's just that I have people coming over and it's a little distracting ..."

"No problem, Didi."

"Great. Thanks."

Didi took a quick look past Marty where Selda, Marty's girlfriend, was putting potato chips into a bowl. Uh-oh - it looked they were having "guests" tonight, too.

Didi smiled and left and Marty closed the door, quickly but not too loudly, behind her. She waited for the music to go down and, after a few seconds, it seemed to. She started to walk downstairs.

**********

Lacey Grundle sat on her sofa, in the middle of an unexpected call.

"No, it's fine. I was just - working," she told the voice on the other end of the phone.

Lacey hadn't talked to Greg since before Christmas. She wasn't expecting to hear from him any time soon, and especially not today. But here she was, talking with him, filling him in on recent changes at work and hearing about his latest trip to Dubai.

"I was just saying to myself, just tonight, that next weekend I am keeping all to myself. No dialing into the office, no condo business ..."

There was a momentarily silence, and Lacey wondered if this indicated Greg was about to tell her the reason for his call. Then he did.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lacey replied, a little shocked. "Really. I liked your Mom. A lot."

Lacey settled into a reclining position on the couch. She did like Mary, actually. She was bright and funny - and used to introduce Lacey to people as her "daughter-in-law" even though she and Greg were only living together.

"When is the funeral?" she asked.

***********

The door to Didi's unit was open by the time Marge and Grady made it up the stairs. Something smelled good - Chicken Tetrazini, I think, was what Didi had mentioned she was going to make. She could smell garlic.

"Come in," Didi called from the kitchen. She was turning off a timer. "Have a seat in the living room and I'll be right in.

Nice, Marge thought. Everything from the antique-framed oil painting over the sofa to the Crate and Barrel bookcases (white) to the Shaker-style entertainment center. And immaculate, too. But then, Didi had a service that came once every other week. ("Must be nice," Marge thought.)

"Burt couldn't make it," Didi informed them. She turned to Grady, first: "Scotch and soda?"

Grady nodded.

"How about you, Marge?" Didi asked. "Glass of wine?"

"That sounds nice," Marge replied.

Everything looked about the same as last time, Marge thought. For some reason she thought Didi had mentioned doing some renovations, but everything looked the same. Suddenly, there was a jolt, a kind of big, thumping sound. It came from upstairs.

"Oh my God," Didi said, "I told them ..."

She looked plaintively at Marge and Grady, handed Grady his scotch and went back to get the wine glasses for herself and Marge. "It's the tenants," she informed them, as if that said it all.

"These walls are kind of thin," Marge offered sympathetically.

"I don't even know what kind of work they do," Didi told them, handing Marge her wine. "They're home all the time. Anyway, let's sit down."

Didi sat down at the other end of the sofa Grady was already sitting on, and then realized that this left only the arm chair for Marge, who wasn't about to sit down between them. Then, suddenly, she remembered something and passed out coasters.

"It's too bad about Burt, really, because I think you and he would have had a lot to talk about," she told Grady. Grady didn't respond.

"He handled the takeover of Bendel Brothers. You used to work there, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Grady confirmed. Marge smiled.

"Your place looks great," Marge said.

********

No new jobs at Morgen-Samuels, Steve noted. Not that he would have gone back there, anyhow. Not since the merger. It was all fucked up.

But he would need to get a job one of these days. The payout was good, but not that good. At least he wasn't paying child support anymore, now that the kids were grown. And Meg was remarried, which was mostly a good thing. Mostly.

He thought, briefly, about finding a new site to post his resume, but what was the point, really? He'd find something eventually.

He'd just finished typing in "www.freerepublic.com" when it started. First, the sound of a car stereo: a little too loud with a little too much bass. Then, within less than a minute - the awful screeching sound. He went out to the living room, walked up to the sliding glass doors, and then looked out across the parking lot. And there was Didi, on her balcony.

"Oh my God," Didi cried, "Oh my God." And then: "I knew it - I just knew it!"

She gazed, horrified, as the young man in the t-shirt and ripped jeans - whoever he was - got out of the driver's seat and walked around to examine the damage.

"I knew it!"

Episode Seven

Episode 8

"Dear Mr. Hartinger: We have reviewed your resume and would like to schedule an appointment for you to meet Mr. Charles Haggers, Director of Public Projects. Mr. Haggers has two available appointments this week, on Tuesday, ..."

"Hi Dad. Sorry I haven't written a lot, lately ..."

Episode Nine

*********************

Rachel did the dishes while Bonnie surfed the net from the computer in the guest room. On nights when Bonnie cooked, Rachel did the dishes and when Rachel cooked, Bonnie did them. But they both kind of preferred it when Bonnie cooked (now that her repertoire had expanded beyond the fried chicken and mashed potatoes she used to make weekly for her husband and her son).

Bonnie had the Acupuncture Academy site up on the screen and this time she wasn't going to hastily click the "Search" button when Rachel walked in to cover up her guilty crime. No, Bonnie's acceptance letter arriving in today's mail meant the time had come to talk it over. Sooner rather than later.

Bonnie heard the sounds that signified "finishing up": closing the dishwasher door and starting it up, wiping down the counter, the closing of cabinets. She listened as Rachel's footsteps, not exactly delicate, but pressing down on wood floors in an even, contented fashion, approached the guest room.

"Any last minute lobbying from Didi Prescott? An e-mail reminding us of our patriotic duty?"

"Just a note reminding everyone to attend the meeting tonight," Bonnie relayed, "and that we're voting on officers."

"Nice touch," Rachel noted. "Keep it nonpartisan, but get your name out there. I think I'll write in John Kerry just to bug her."

Bonnie smiled, but then her smile faded. This caught Rachel by surprise. She looked at Bonnie, who suddenly looked close to tears. Then she looked at the screen, but the official web site of the International Acupuncture Academy of Shanghai didn't set off any immediate bells. She then looked back at Bonnie.

"There's something we have to talk about," Bonnie began.

**************

After Dari Patel buzzed Didi Prescott in the front door, she gave their unit the once over, at least those parts the assembled unit owners would see. It looked good. Considering they'd only been living at Rosedale for two months, the place had shaped up pretty well. Although some of the women would no doubt find some of her décor a little "exotic" (meaning "Indian"), Dari had no intention of modifying her tastes to suit them. Besides, it wasn't nearly as "Indian" as, say, her mother-in-law's two-story high ranch in Schenectady.

Didi arrived at the front door with a big tray of something, covered tightly with tin foil. On second thought, it was a baking dish. Didi smiled perfunctorily then made her way directly to the kitchen.

"Do you mind if I go ahead and heat these up?" she asked.

"Let me help you," Dari offered, extending her arms to take the dish from Didi.

"That's okay," Didi responded, "it's easier if I do it." She then placed the dish down on the counter and started taking over the oven controls without asking. Granted, they all had the same kitchen set up, but still ... Dari certainly couldn't ever see herself taking over another woman's kitchen like this.

"It's just a little something I found in Food and Wine," Didi explained. "I hope you like them."

Somehow, Dari didn't think it really mattered to Didi Prescott one way or another if she liked them or if she didn't.

Episode Ten

Episode Eleven

Episode Twelve

********************

"My watering can!" Didi exclaimed.

"Your watering can?" Dari replied.

Didi picked up the brightly painted tin watering can with a sunflower painted on the spout. "Well, it certainly looks like mine. Where did you get it?"

"I got it at a yard sale. In Schenectady."

"Isn't that interesting?" Didi mused, "I got mine in Oaxaca." Didi stared at Dari for a moment. "That's in Mexico."

"That is interesting," Dari replied, taking the can back and placing it on the ground. "That must be where this one came from, too."

Steve Hartinger found it interesting, too.

"Say, Alex, can I give you a hand with these chairs? They go in the basement, right?"

"We'll take care of that," Dari offered. "I can't even think about cleaning up right now."

Somehow Dari's demeanor indicated, Time to go home, everyone.

"Are you sure?" Marge asked, coming back in from the kitchen.

"Yes, really," Dari replied.

Didi took one last look at the watering can - her watering can (it had to be), then said good-night.

********************

Bonnie was at her computer again, looking at next month's association expenses, when Rachel entered.

"So you're staying," Rachel said.

"I guess I am."

Rachel sat down on the guest room couch and waited for Bonnie to turn away from the computer and toward her. After a moment, she did.

"Are you happy?" Rachel asked, "I mean, that you're staying?"

"I don't know," was all Bonnie could say.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I've been happy, Rachel. I've been happy most of the time. But now ..." she trailed off. "I just want something else. I don't mean you. I don't mean ..."

What did she mean?

"I'm sixty-two years old and I've never done anything ... I mean, I raised a family, I worked as a secretary, I moved to Boston ..."

"Yes, I know," Rachel replied, "and I'm glad you did."

"Oh, me, too! Really. It's just ... I want to accomplish something. The idea of going to China to study acupuncture ..."

"You still can."

"I know. And I think I will. As soon as Lacey's better."

Rachel couldn't think of anything to say, so she put her arms around Bonnie - and secretly hoped Lacey wouldn't get better any time soon.

********************

Mike was approaching the end of the hall at Mass General, counting off Rooms 304, 306, 308 and saw Greg Beers outside of 310 talking on his cell phone.

"So if you could just leave the papers on my desk I'll take care of them first thing ..."

Greg looked up and noticed Mike.

"... in the morning. Thanks, Jan." Greg closed up his cell phone. "It's not pretty," he said, indicating the inside of the hospital room. Through the open door, Mike saw Lacey, unconscious, with a breathing tube.

"They think she'll be okay. I mean, they think ..."

Mike looked at Lacey, then concentrated on Greg.

"They'll know more tomorrow," was all Greg could say.

"Wow. I knew she had food allergies ..." Mike noted.

"God did she ever! Wherever we went she always had to ask the waiter a million questions: does it have peanuts? Does it have gluten? I think it was one of the reasons ..." Greg stopped himself.

"Listen," Greg told Mike, "I've got a few other things I've got to attend to. My mom just passed away, which is the reason I'm back here in the first place and ... do you have a cell phone?"

Mike reached around in his pocket and pulled it out, though he wasn't sure why.

"No, I mean - give me your number. I'll give you a call tomorrow and see if anything's ... you know, see what's up?"

"Oh," Mike replied and gave Greg the number.

"Thanks! Well, I'd better ... Thanks," Greg said and headed down the hall.

********************

Steve kept the lights off in his living room so he could peer through the blinds without being seen. Sure enough, the lights were on in the Patels' basement garage and there was a lot of movement. More, he thought, then just the putting back of a few folding chairs.

Episode Thirteen

**********************

One little bedside light was on in the back of the apartment (and a night-lite in the kitchen so they could find their way around if they had to. As Mike entered the apartment he didn't turn on the living room light first, like he normally would have. He looked toward the back of the apartment and headed in to see Rhoda.

She was lying, knees up, book balanced on knees, bedside lamp illuminating, in the bed they'd shared for two and a half years (off and on - she'd only moved in six months ago). She had a t-shirt on and no bra underneath, he noticed. She didn't look angry.

"That was some condo meeting - did the old lady win or did Lacey?" Rhoda asked brightly.

Mike took off his watch.

"She's in the hospital," he told her, then realized he'd need to clarify. "Lacey is, not the old lady."

"Oh my god."

"She's okay - I think. She's conscious. But she can't talk - breathing tube."

Rhoda just looked at Mike in disbelief.

"Food allergy. She's going to be fine." He said it and he believed it.

"Wow."

Rhoda didn't know what else to say and neither did Mike (but for different reasons, one suspects). He continued to get undressed and occasionally looked back at Rhoda to see what she might be thinking.

"I might have to go back to the hospital tomorrow," Mike said, and looked at her again to see if there was a change in expression.

********************

Bonnie figured they could spend about two thousand on landscaping and still have money in the budget for the essential repairs and maintenance they knew were coming up. And it was still early enough in the summer to get good use out of the improvements. She'd bring it up for a vote at the next meeting, but it made sense to get an estimate first.

Down to Earth advertised in the gay newspaper and the contact listed was a Michelle somebody or other so they might be lesbian-owned. Rachel would like that. And the ad copy suggested they took a responsible, organic approach to landscaping, which appealed to Bonnie (and wouldn't bother anybody else with the possible exception of Steve Hartinger, but he wouldn't care enough to make an issue of it).

The buzzer rang and Bonnie alerted Michelle that she'd be right down. She was giving Michelle a tour of the grounds and Michelle would come back with an estimate.

Michelle was younger and sexier (in a sort of boy/girl, Wicca/punk meets MTV way) than Bonnie would have imagined (not that she'd done any imagining). She smiled pleasantly when Bonnie came out and Bonnie was glad she didn't seem to have an "attitude" about condo people or older women or whatever it was girls like her had attitudes about nowadays.

"We just want something simple," Bonnie explained (confessed) and the girl didn't smirk. Good sign. "We mostly want to repair or replace some of the flower beds we have now, do some new plantings - not from seed cause we want to see them right away - and maybe add one bush to the front for privacy."

Michelle nodded and made suggestions here and there as they looked at particular spots around the complex. She didn't seem to be pushing only the expensive options, which was a good sign, too.

Bonnie wondered if Michelle had a girlfriend. Not because she wanted to "do anything" with Michelle - the girl was, really, just a girl and probably thought of Bonnie as a benevolent grandmother type who wore natural fibers instead of polyester. But she wondered if girls Michelle's age had one steady girlfriend, a series of different ones, or didn't even think about committed relationships until they'd "played the field" for awhile.

Bonnie wondered what that might be like.

************************

"So, I'm sitting there thinking: we have to at least appoint somebody for the interim," Didi confided to Burt over chardonnay. "And I wasn't just thinking about me. I was thinking about all these outstanding projects that we really can't afford to wait on."

Burt smiled, but kept cutting his steak rather than comment.

"And Dari Patel - who stole my watering can, as it turns out ... I'll tell you that story later - anyway, she mentions that the bylaws state that the treasurer is supposed to take over if for some reason the association president gets incapacitated."

Didi waited for Burt's response. "I mean, how would she even know something like that? I mean, right off the top of her head."

Burt realized Didi was waiting for an answer.

"So you think Dari knew ... I mean, wait, how would she ...," and then it occurred to him: "You think Dari poisoned her?"

Didi laughed. "Oh, no! I don't think anybody ..." She stopped for a moment. "God, if they think anybody poisoned her, they'd think me, but I swear I didn't."

Didi chuckled at the thought: "I wouldn't even no how to poison someone - intentionally."

She began again. "No, I just think it's weird that Dari had been studying the rules of succession for our association officers. I think maybe she just wanted to make sure it wasn't me."

Burt looked quizzically at her.

"She doesn't like me. Because I reminded Lacey that we need to apply the same rules to everyone - we have parking rules for a reason and if we don't enforce them for one person, simply because that person comes from a foreign country and we don't want to be seen as discriminating."

"I mean," she queried Burt, intently, "isn't it more discriminating not to apply the same rules to everyone."

Burt nodded because he felt, somehow, he should.

*******************

Alexander Patel held the door for his wife as she climbed into the front passenger seat of their Suburu. "Wow," Steve Hartinger thought, as he watched them from his living room, "I didn't think guys could still do that."

As soon as he was sure they'd driven off, Steve stepped out of his unit, into his hallway, and headed toward Mike's unit.

*******************

"Sorry to bother you, Mike," Steve said, though he was nonetheless standing there, bothering Mike at 9:00 at night.

"It's the Patels' garage," he began, and quickly followed up with the rest of the story.

He explained how he'd been walking by their garage on the way to his car when he smelled something funny. Something that smelled like gasoline. And, of course, when he went to inform the Patels he discovered that they both must have gone out.

Mike was not comfortable with the idea of "breaking into" their garage while they were out, but Steve pressed the public safety issue and the idea that the association itself might be liable if something were to happen. Mike grabbed his big key ring and they headed for the garage.

Episode Fourteen

*****************

The ride back from the restaurant was quiet, though Didi was able to get Burt to talk a little bit when she asked about a restructuring-related issue at his office. Burt was always good at reporting the facts, if not the interpersonal dynamics behind them. In fact, she'd known Burt almost two years before she found out that he hated his business partner, Fred, despite the fact that they socialized with Fred's family at least two or three times a year outside the office.

But for the most part, as she sat on the passenger side and Burt guided the well-appointed and famously quiet BMW across the Longfellow Bridge and through the streets of Cambridge, they were both silent.

Didi wasn't sure why.

******************

"This is the half-empty bag of potting soil I kept on my balcony. How the hell did she ...?"

Mike came over to look at the cardboard box Steve was examining.

"That's Lacey's bracelet! The turquoise one. The one she asked me if I had seen ..." Mike commented.

Steve thought he heard a noise. He nodded in the direction of the parking lot, which was Mike's signal to go back to his post.

Mike went back and immediately saw a car pulling into the parking lot. He closed the garage door and walked back over to Steve. The two remained quiet as the edges of the garage door revealed a flood of light in the lot outside.

"I liked that place," Didi noted. "I'd go back there again. Would you?"

"Sure," Burt told her.

"Oh, listen," Didi began as she opened the car door, "I wanted to show you--"

But Burt stopped her. "I don't think I can stay tonight. Early meeting."

"Oh," Didi replied. "Of course."

"But I'll see you Saturday," Burt said.

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it," she replied and kissed him goodnight before exiting and heading toward her apartment.

Burt waited, like a gentleman, until Didi got to her building's side door and had opened it with her key. She waved and he waved back, and then drove off.

She made sure the door closed tight behind her and went upstairs.

**********************

When they entered Steve's apartment, the 42-inch t.v. screen was already on and broadcasting from Channel 3 (I think it's 3, Mike noted), the association's "surveillance channel." Well, Steve was the one who had lobbied for the surveillance cameras, so it made sense that he was probably the only one who actually watched it, but ... all the time?

"We've got to tell Lacey about this," Mike said, "I mean, as soon as she's ... okay."

Steve turned on a small light next to the sofa and then turned the big overhead off as he walked over to the blinds and peered out into the parking lot.

"We could be sued," Mike noted. "I mean, if we say something, to Mrs. Patel, or do something like, I don't know, fine her. But if we don't do something, and people find out we knew, they could sue us for not doing anything."

"We can't tell anybody we went into their garage while they weren't home," Steve told him.

"Well, that wasn't my idea! That was your--"

Steve gave Mike a condescending glance and Mike knew right away that it didn't matter whose idea it was to enter the garage illegally. At this stage, there was nothing they could do.

******************

It was a nice day to be outside and it must be nice to have a job that lets you work outdoors, Bonnie thought, musing on how content the young woman from Down to Earth had appeared when Bonnie watched her digging around in the flower beds.

Just a couple more items of condo business to wrap up and maybe she'd take a stroll outside and check in with her. Not bother her, of course, while she's working, but just check in and then maybe take a ride into Central Square to run a couple of errands.

These kids today, Bonnie thought, amused at the "old granny" sound of the phrase. These kids are growing up in an entirely different world. What would my life have been like, Bonnie thought, if I'd grown up in a world where lesbians hosted t.v. talk shows and sold platinum albums and got impregnated by their best male friend with the help of a turkey baster so they and their girlfriends could raise children together in open domestic bliss.

She would never have had Rusty, for one thing. Russell Michael Devlow would never have been born. She wouldn't have liked that.

******************

"Drink some water," Marge instructed Lacey, who was now sitting up, alert, but still tired and uncomfortable.

"Thanks," Lacey replied and took the plastic cup from Marge, drinking it all down.

"Well," Lacey said after finishing the cup of water, "this is certainly not how I thought I'd be spending my Friday afternoon, if you'd asked me a couple of days ago."

Her throat was a little hoarse, but she sounded much better than she had even an hour ago.

"Wait until I tell you some of the things that are going on back at the condo association," Marge began, but Lacey cut her off.

"No, please," Lacey told her. "Don't you think I've been through enough?"

Lacey laughed, weakly, and Marge smiled. Lacey was right, of course. She shouldn't have to think about condo business now. But what the hell else would they talk about?

Suddenly a presence in the doorway.

"Hi," Mike said, and took in Lacey's appearance. She'd looked better - usually, a lot better - but she didn't look like she was dying or anything.

"I don't want to hear about the light bulbs in the parking lot!" Lacey joked.

"Oh, I took care of that yesterday," Mike noted, before he got the joke and smiled.

He then took note of Marge Alderwell's presence. She had clearly been camped out for some time, with a canvas tote bag parked at her feet containing magazines and snacks.

"Hi Marge," he said and Marge nodded.

"Doesn't she look great?" Marge asked. "I mean, considering."

"She does," Mike concurred.

The three were quiet for a moment.

"Say," Marge began, "do you want me to try calling that friend of yours? You know, the one who came to the condo meeting."

"Greg," Lacey clarified. "Where is Greg?"

Mike started to answer when Lacey interrupted, talking more to herself than the others.

"I mean, not that he - he had a lot of family things going on." Then, for the edification of Marge and Mike: "He's only in town for a couple of days for his mom's funeral. This is probably the last thing he needs."

Mike smiled but didn't know what else to say.

"Well, we should let him know that you're all right," Marge noted.

"His number should be on my - on second thought," Lacey told her, "Don't bother him. Really."

Through it all, Mike kept quiet.

Episode Fifteen

****************************

Across the parking lot, Michelle was working in the flower beds and Bonnie stopped by to check in with her on her way out.

"I'm just going to Central Square for a little bit," she told the young woman. "You can reach me on my cell if you need to." There wasn't much reason Michelle would need to contact Bonnie on that particular morning, but she might need money for gardening supplies or for someone to lock up the tool shed if she had to leave early.

"Thanks."

Bonnie marveled at the young woman and the confidence she obviously had about herself and (let's face it) her body. Her top was nothing more than a bra, really (not really - Michelle wore a bra under her top, but the straps and seams were visible enough that she might as well have been wearing just a bra) and her hair was pulled back, carelessly, into a pony tail that sprouted at the top of her head. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, Bonnie noted (with a twenty-five-year-old's flawless skin and svelte body), but even when Bonnie was twenty (with a body not quite as trim, but not bad either given the style back then), Bonnie never would have walked around in public in such a visible way.

Michelle looked great that way, though, and Bonnie wished that maybe she had put herself on display a little more when she was twenty-five. She sure as hell couldn't do it now.

Bonnie was about to get into her car when she noticed Didi Prescott striding purposefully in her direction. What now?

"I didn't realize we were going ahead with the landscaping," Didi noted, with her usual "hidden meaning" tone.

"She's just doing a little tidying up," Bonnie countered. She then started walking toward her car.

"Did we vote on this expenditure, Bonnie? I can't remember."

"We did, Didi. At the spring meeting. Mike was supposed to get bids, and we talked about maybe doing some planting by the fence, but this is just ..."

"I just thought we were going to take care of the leaks in the basements, first. Mine leaks every time it rains, you know ..."

"We'll take care of that, too, Didi," Bonnie assured her.

"I just think before spend money from the budget to do a partial ..."

"Sorry, Didi. I gotta run," Bonnie said, and got into her car.

Didi noticed the young woman who was supposed to be "tidying up" had stopped working and was listening to their conversation.

*******************

Steve had the three latest surveillance tapes (he'd recorded the closed circuit channel randomly, not continuously) stacked up next to the vcr and realized he should probably print out his notes and keep them nearby in case something jogged his memory.

He went back to his computer (which he almost always left turned on) and before he could open up his word processor he noticed his e-mail program and, without even looking at what was on screen, realized what he had done.

The appointment was today, dammit!

Shit. He quickly picked up the phone and looked up the phone number from their e-mail. A young man answered.

Steve had to explain himself much more than he was hoping to (apparently this young man, whoever, he was, was not the one keeping track of interview appointments), but he was told that, yes, they could probably reschedule. He'd be getting a call back later today.

Jesus! Steve had never missed a job interview (or any appointment, really) ever, in his entire life. Granted he hadn't been on a job interview in at least fifteen years ..

Maybe he could turn this to his advantage, by appearing as though he didn't really need the job that badly. But that was bullshit. Missing a job interview doesn't impress anyone. But perhaps it wouldn't hurt him that badly either.

He looked again at the e-mail on his screen and realized another appointment he'd forgotten about. There was still time, though, to fulfill this one, but he wasn't too delighted at the prospect: Annabeth's rehearsal dinner (with his ex-wife, her husband, and their entire extended family).

*****************

Didi got her garage door opened (it required a hefty pull that was probably going to dislocate her shoulder one day!) and re-inspected the corner of the basement/garage where the water typically came in during or after a rain storm. This is what we should be spending money on, Didi thought.

******************

In the midst of a preliminary "tidy up" (nobody from the wedding party was likely to suggest "Hey, let's all go back to Steve's place," but just in case), Steve decided he'd better go out and check on his plants. (Besides, he wanted to get another look at the gardener chick he'd noticed earlier.)

He stepped outside onto his balcony with a full gallon of tap water when he noticed Didi Prescott closing her garage door.

He went about his business and was surprised, several seconds later, to see Didi standing next to his balcony.

"Beautiful day," Didi noted.

Didi never stopped by to comment on the quality of the weather. He stopped watering and studied her.

"I know things are a little bit 'on hold' around here, at least while Lacey's recuperating and Bonnie Devlow is temporarily filling in for her," Didi began. "But I think there are a few issues we should attend to."

"Oh really," Steve asked, not caring at all about the 'issues' but fascinated to watch Didi's strategy unfold.

"Well, that last meeting wasn't much of a meeting, really. What with Lacey being carried out on a stretcher and everybody all preoccupied after that," she told him. "I think maybe we should call a special meeting, if you will ..."

"I don't care," Steve replied.

"Great!" she continued, "I'm going to ask some of the other owners ..."

"Hey, Didi ..." Steve began. He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but it would solve at least one of his problems.

Didi stopped talking and regarded Steve with only the barest hint of impatience.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked.

Episode Sixteen

**************

What on earth had she agreed to, and why?

It was fun, Didi had to admit, telling Burt that she was going to a wedding rehearsal with one of her fellow condo owners. "You remember Steve Hartinger, don't you?" Burt didn't remember Steve, of course. But that was probably for the best.

She and Burt were still on for Saturday, but she couldn't tell from his voice and reaction to her news whether they were truly still "on." Oh, well. She'd know soon enough.

She looked herself over in the mirror and thought, "Steve doesn't deserve for me to look this good." She had on a deceptively simple white summer wool suit with black buttons and trim. Well, if the point is to make his ex-wife jealous, this should do the trick.

Her doorbell rang and Didi braced herself. This would be the weirdest night of her life.

****************

Lacey spent most of the drive home complaining about work.

"I suppose I should be flattered that they can't get a damn thing done without me," she told Greg, "but it's still going to affect my numbers." Greg could relate.

"So," she asked him, in a reassuringly playful tone of voice, "do you think Didi was really trying to poison me?"

"I hope not," Greg said, and smiled.

Lacey was glad Greg had shown up when he did. He was a big help in getting her discharged and while she was sure she could have driven herself home, she didn't have her car.

"I'm glad you're still with us, Lacey," Greg told her. "I don't think I could have handled two people dying on me in the same week."

She smiled.

****************

"This is my friend, Didi Prescott," Steve explained as he introduced his neighbor to his ex-wife and her husband. Both Didi and Steve realized that "friend" was a stretch no matter how you looked at it, but at least Steve avoided any gesture or intonation that would have implied anything beyond "friend."

"Nice to meet you," Didi said, addressing herself first to the ex-Mrs. Hartinger, her hand extended (and met) in a gesture of sincere (or sincere-seeming, anyway) warmth, and then did the same with Mrs. Ex's new husband. Mrs. Ex had clearly "upgraded" (in the economic sense, at least) and the new husband seemed normal at the very least.

"Steve, have you met Tommy?"

The question irked him. True, Steve had only met the guy once, and that was by accident (he was dropping a used computer off at Annabeth's apartment), but the implication seemed to be that Steve was completely out of the loop in terms of his daughter's life. He was here, wasn't he?

He shook Tommy's hand and murmured the customary niceties.

"You want a drink?" he asked Didi, and then headed off to the bar without waiting for an answer. What Steve had probably meant to say was, "If you want a drink, come over to the bar with me now."

*************

The apartment seemed dark for this time of day, and Rachel wondered for a moment if Bonnie was out. Not that she wasn't free to come and go as she pleased, but Bonnie was usually good about letting Rachel know when she'd be out running errands when Rachel got home from work, and what the game plan was for dinner.

Suddenly, a light went on in the bedroom, and she heard some movement.

When she made her way to the bedroom, she was a bit taken aback.

"I was told you had something that needed fixing," Bonnie declared, in a voice that Rachel hadn't ever heard her use before. And to make matters more confusing, Bonnie was standing in the middle of the bedroom in an outfit she'd not only never worn, but Rachel wouldn't have believed she even owned: a plaid work shirt with the sleeves carefully cut out and buttoned starting a mid-breast and ending a couple of buttons before the bottom, and a pair of white shorts that hit about mid-thigh. On top of this, she was wearing a utility belt and a baseball cap and holding an electric screwdriver.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rachel asked, a little nervous to see Bonnie holding power tools, relieved that it was unplugged, but all the more confused.

"I was hired to do some work around the apartment," Bonnie told her, then moved in closer to Rachel. "Whatever … you might need."

Oh. Rachel got it now. Belatedly. She'd have to play along, of course (and who knows, it could be fun), but she somehow wished that Bonnie had mentioned they were going to be doing this before she left for work this morning. It would have given her a chance to mentally prepare.

"Is there anything you'd like me to work on?" Bonnie asked, in the sexiest and breathiest tone she could muster (which, Rachel had to admit, was pretty sexy).

***************

"This ought to be fun," Steve informed Didi, as plans started being discussed for after-dinner speeches, "this is where we all tell them how great it is they're going to get married and how we wish them all the happiness that we've had."

Steve was talking a little louder than he should be, Didi noted.

"Except we all screwed up our marriages, even Joe-Joe over there," Steve continued. His ex's new husband's name was Joe, but nobody called him Joe-Joe except Steve, and usually not to his face.

"That's right. They all act like he's Mr. Perfect, Mr. Family Man - because he's been good to Annabeth. Which, he has been, I have to admit that. But you should ask his first wife what kind of a husband he was. Believe me, I know the whole story."

Didi was certain now that Joe's sister, who was seated at Steve's left, was overhearing the whole thing but graciously pretending she didn't.

I hope he's not a very loud drunk, Didi thought as the coffee started being poured.

Episode Seventeen

*******************

"I'm the asshole! Me! Not him, me!"

That's how it went for most of the ride from the Belmont Country Club to the Rosedale Units. Didi drove Steve's SUV (she'd never even ridden in anything this high off the ground before) while Steve Hartinger lapsed in and out of consciousness long enough to mumble or shout obscenities and then close his eyes again.

At least he didn't argue when she insisted on driving home.

"I would have sent her to college, if I could have, but he's the one making six figures. Six figures!"

Didi kept her eyes on the road.

At least she'd have a story to tell Burt.

When they pulled into the familiar parking lot, Steve seemed to snap out of it. He sat up, his eyes were alert, and he looked around the parking lot. As Didi prepared to maneuver the steel monster into Steve's parking space, something caught Steve's attention.

"Destroying evidence - they're destroying evidence!"

Oh God, Didi thought. Please don't make a scene.

Didi barely turned the engine off when Steve bolted out of the passenger side and headed over to the Patels' garage, where Alexander Patel was pulling down the garage door.

"Don't destroy evidence!" Steve yelled.

Didi sighed and got out of the SUV, almost forgetting how high up off the ground she was. The last thing she wanted was for everyone to think she was as drunk as he was. It was bad enough being seen getting out of the same vehicle.

"Excuse me," Mr. Patel said quietly.

Steve turned to Didi. "If you look behind that door … go ahead, tell him to open it!"

Mr. Patel looked quizzically at Didi, who shrugged her shoulders.

"It's all in there!" Steve shouted. "Everything! Everything that's gone missing around this complex since they moved in here. Come on, Patel! Open the door."

"Well, it's very late," Didi said and started to walk away.

"I'm not kidding," Steve continued, "your watering can, Lacey's bracelet … my potting soil!"

"Good night, Mr. Hartinger," Mr. Patel replied and turned the lock on the garage door. But, suddenly, Steve banged his fist into the door.

"Came on Patel! Open it up, if you've got nothing to hide!"

Didi turned back around, "Steve … please!"

Mr. Patel shrugged. "It's fine with me." He unlocked the garage door and lifted it up, then walked over to the wall and turned on the light.

Didi would have just gone home, but she wanted to make sure nobody got hurt. And, she had to admit, she was a little curious, too (ever since the "watering can incident").

Steve walked right over to the shelving unit containing the box of swag that he and Mike had discovered during their clandestine "raid" the other night. The box was there, but it contained only assorted "junk" (boxes of nails, a hammer, some twine). Steve frantically searched the other boxes.

"They moved it! It's somewhere else!" he exclaimed.

"Perhaps you'd better come back with a search warrant, Mr. Hartinger," Patel remarked.

Didi shook her head and walked away. Steve, somewhat dazed, walked out of the garage and called to Didi as she headed toward her unit.

"I have tapes! I have surveillance tapes!" he said, but Didi just kept walking.

Episode Eighteen

****************

Steve Hartinger hadn't woken up feeling like this - searing pain in his head just above and between his eyes, throat dry and heart beating too fast when he sat up and tried to get out of bed - in years. In his younger years he'd been able to "throw 'em back" as well as anybody, and he'd enjoyed the occasional "Friday night blowout" (mostly in and after college), but for the last few years he'd never had more than two, maybe three, drinks in one evening.

And then it all came back - the rehearsal dinner, the drive home with Didi (she drove, Thank God), the clumsy walk down the hall, into his unit, and going to bed with most of his clothes still on. Jesus!

Didi would probably have a great time recounting the story to the other condo owners, one at a time. Oh well - they all thought he was weird, anyway. This wouldn't actually lower anybody's opinion of him.

Oh - and the incident with Patel. Outside his garage. That wasn't good.

Water, Steve thought. Water, then coffee.

****************

Rachel Wexler smiled up at Bonnie as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. A great night together followed by eggs, bacon, homemade home fries, orange juice and coffee. Life is good, Rachel thought.

"Do you mind going to the garden shop today?" Bonnie asked. "I want to look at different kinds of flowers for the complex."

"I don't mind at all - you little minx," Rachel growled, making Bonnie laugh.

"Great," Bonnie replied. "I'd like to head out before noon."

It seemed to Rachel that Bonnie, after last night's brief foray into "slutsville," was returning to her traditional Midwestern wholesome housewife mode. Oh well, Rachel thought - she's pretty cute that way, too.

*****************

Lacey invited Greg to elaborate, using what she thought was an even-handed, curious-but-not-critical tone, on his feelings about her recent health emergency.

"Obviously, it would be one thing if we were married and you suddenly got cancer or something. I mean, I'm not a creep," Greg explained.

"No," Lacey agreed. "I don't think you are."

His point was that if she'd been really sick - like "major" sick, for a long period of time, with an uncertain outcome - at this stage in their relationship, when they were just getting to know each other again. Well, it wouldn't make any sense to pursue it then. Right?

She could see his point of view, of course. It was rational. She herself wouldn't relish the idea of getting involved with somebody who's body was suddenly "going south" on them, just days after they'd started dating again.

And yet …

Greg looked at Lacey and she couldn't tell whether he was realizing just what she was realizing at that particular moment. Maybe he did and hoped it wasn't true. Or maybe he was relieved. After all, if it happened this time, it could happen again.

****************

He sat at the computer out of habit, scanning the headlines on the news sites and checking his e-mail. This one must have arrived yesterday, but Steve hadn't noticed.

"mwilson@henderson-allen.com - subject: Initial Meeting"

*****************

Mike McHenry happened to be looking out into the parking lot - okay, he didn't happen to be looking, he'd been keeping an eye on the car near Lacey's unit for most of the morning, but not so much that Rhoda had become suspicious - when he saw Greg Beers come out of Lacey's building.

Greg didn't look happy, but then - who knows? Maybe that's how he always looked in the morning.

He'd give Lacey a little while - at least fifteen minutes so it didn't look like he'd been waiting and watching for Greg to leave - and then go over and talk to her. About condo business, at least at first. But then about something that really mattered. And then, depending on how that talk went, he'd have to have another talk with Rhoda. A talk he wasn't looking forward to.

******************

Well, the wedding was only an hour away. I guess he's not coming, Annabeth thought. Not surprising, really, and probably all for the best, in the long run.

But then she heard a car pull up outside and saw her dad step out of it.

Is that what he's wearing to my wedding, she thought.

Outside, Steve steeled himself for whatever scolding, mocking or emotional outburst might be awaiting him on the other side of that door and pressed the bell. A nice, cheerful, suburban "ding-dong" he thought as he saw figures moving about behind the smoked glass that framed the doorway.

Here goes nothing, he thought.

Episode Nineteen

******************

Lacey tidied up the kitchen and was getting ready to take a shower when her doorbell rang. Now that she was "all better," they'd probably expect her to resume her "presidential" duties again, like calling the "roof guy" and settling parking disputes.

She pressed the intercom and queried the visitor.

"It's me," she heard Mike say. " Have you got a minute?"

"Sure," she replied and pressed the buzzer. Awfully formal, she thought. Usually he'd let himself in the building and just knock on her door.

She did a quick scan of the room to make sure it was presentable for company (not that Mike would care, or even notice), when she saw something pretty and blue sitting on an end table, under the lamp.

Her turquoise bracelet.

She'd looked everywhere for that bracelet and she was sure it was missing …

Then, the knock at the door. She let him in.

"Hi," Mike said, in that way he had. That way he had of wanting to initiate a conversation, but seeming to wait for permission to begin the conversation in earnest. Actually, from a managerial standpoint Mike was the perfect employee (though he wasn't her employee, in particular, he was employed by the association she represented). He carried out tasks as assigned and asked questions when he wasn't sure. Which was, admittedly, a lot of the time.

"What is it, Mike? I kind of have to get going," she told him.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about … is your friend still here?"

"My - oh, you mean Greg?" she said. "No, Greg isn't here. And I don't suspect he will be here again, at least not for awhile. Probably a long while."

Lacey suddenly realized that she would probably not want to get into all the details with anybody else just yet, so she probably shouldn't have said so much already. She was never one for being coy or discreet about her personal life (nor was she obnoxiously forthcoming), but she thought maybe she should give herself a little time to process what had just happened.

While she thought this, Mike said nothing, though he looked like he was trying to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry. You didn't come here to hear about my love life," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wondering. I mean, I was … I wanted to say that I'm very glad you're feeling better. I was very worried about you." It was hard, at first, for Mike to initiate the conversation, but it was getting easier. Lacey smiled.

"Thanks, Mike. I was worried about me, too!"

She started gathering papers into her briefcase, so she'd have them ready after she got her shower. Even thought it was Saturday, Lacey thought it would really help her on Monday if she did a little prep work at the office today.

"I want you to know," Mike continued, "I really value our friendship. I mean, we have this work relationship, too …"

"Thanks," she said.

Suddenly, the expression on her face terrified him. It wasn't a terrifying expression, of course. She had a cheerful smile on her face and her eyes were bright and nicely framed by her long lashes. What terrified him was that he wasn't sure how that expression, currently so warm and pleasant, might change if he were to bring up the subject he really wanted to.

"Would you like to have lunch today?" Mike asked. Nothing too intense about "lunch."

"Oh, I would," she said, "but I'm going into the office. I've got a lot to catch up on. Maybe next weekend."

"Sure," Mike said.

He then managed to extricate himself and left Lacey to her shower.

**********************

Bonnie could hardly wait to get started. She sent Rachel to the garage to get her gardening tools, while she took the bulbs and plantings they'd bought over to the small grassy patch near the main entrance.

She knew she could make a real difference around the place. Lacey had done a good job at keeping things running from day to day, but she somehow never had time to give the place those "extra touches" that would make it really nice. And God knows, Bonnie thought, I've got plenty of time on my hands.

Rachel was walking over with a canvas bag full of gardening tools and supplies. It would be fun doing this together, Bonnie thought. And not only this: there were so many things - cultural events, outdoor activities - that the Boston area offered that she and Rachel somehow never took advantage of.

Bonnie took the bag from Rachel, pulled out her little shovel and started digging. Then she stopped and realized she ought to have a plan before she started digging, when all of a sudden they were joined by a neighbor.

"Did we decide we were going to plant over here," Didi Prescott asked (innocently enough).

"I decided we were," Bonnie replied.

"Well, it's great to see someone taking initiative," Didi commented, "but I wonder if we should first discuss, you know, as a group …"

"I'm sure you're right, Didi, but by the time we get around to discussing …" Bonnie began.

"Excuse me," Rachel said to Didi as she gently pushed her way past Didi to get down on the ground next to Bonnie and help with the planting.

"Are you available tomorrow night?" Didi asked. When Rachel looked up, with an expression of surprise and, possibly, amusement, Didi explained, "I'd like to call an emergency condo meeting. Now that Lacey's better I think we should resolve the issue of officers once and for all."

"Actually, Bonnie here's declared herself president for life and I seconded it," Rachel told her.

Rachel Wexler always seemed to think she was amusing, when most of the time she was just obnoxious, Didi thought.

"Sure," Bonnie replied. "We can do tomorrow night. Who's hosting?"

"I've asked Marge," Didi said. "She and Grady haven't hosted for over a year."

"Great," Bonnie said, and then went back to her planting. "See you then."

And then - perfect timing - Didi saw Lacey coming out of her unit and going toward her car.

************************

Mike had expected his conversation with Rhoda might be awkward, but he hadn't expected this.

"You're a jerk, do you know that?" Rhoda exclaimed, as she moved around the room putting things in boxes. "I knew it all along, I suppose, but I didn't know how much."

"You knew?" Mike asked, bewildered.

"Not about you and Lacey - and you're crazy if you think she's every going to be your 'girlfriend,'" Rhoda practically hissed at him. "No, I mean I knew you were a jerk."

She stopped putting things in boxes.

"I'm going to have to come back and do this tomorrow," she said.

"Rhoda, you don't have to move out. If anything, I should move …"

"Oh, that would make a lot of sense - you work here! I only moved in because you wanted me to …"

"I know. And I did want you to …"

"Don't start saying nice things to me Mike. That'll just make me crazy." And then, after a moment, "I'm not really mad at you. I'm mad at myself. I've wasted two years of my life …" she told him.

"Not wasted …" Mike started.

"For you they weren't wasted. What the hell else would you have been doing? But for me …" She stopped herself. No point in being cruel.

She picked up her cell phone and called Lizzie Bowman, a friend from graduate school. She was pretty sure she could stay with Lizzie, at least tonight. At least until she figured out what else she was going to do.

Mike just stood there, watching her. Feeling a knot in his stomach grow tighter and tighter.

Episode Twenty

******************

Steve liked mastering a new technology, though it seemed lately like there were just too many new ones to keep track of and too little time to explore them. Dramatic new technologies had evolved even in the six months (almost exactly) since he'd left Morgen-Samuels. (They'd both agreed - Steve and the M-S management - that Steve could said he'd "left" when questioned about his departure. The company didn't want to be seen as laying off old men (true, at 58 he was hardly "old" in the classic sense; with 60 being the new - whatever), though of course that's what it did when they thought they could get away with it.

But Steve Hartinger was not the type to go screaming "discrimination" (especially after his lawyer friend told him those cases are notoriously difficult to prove). It was time to move on anyway. Ever since the buyout the place had become a daycare center with young adult charges suffering from untreated attention deficit disorder, coupled with severe narcissism and intermittent megalomania. Or so it was starting to seem.

Anyway, he'd succeeded in transferring most of the videotapes to mpeg files and was editing down the one's he'd already converted to just the scenes with action or movement. (He hardly had enough hard drive capacity to keep over 120 hours of video, when the vast majority of it depicted an empty parking lot.)

He had offered to videotape Anabeth's wedding, or at least take the unedited video and make her a nice DVD. But of course they'd hired someone to do that, someone who knew a lot more about the technology than Steve did. And most people probably would have thought it was weird, anyway: the ex-husband walking around with a video camera while his ex-wife and her new husband cringed.

He made the right decision not to attend the actual reception. He was there for her at the church, and she smiled at him as she walked down the aisle. Of course she was smiling at everybody (that's what the bride usually does!), but he felt like she was smiling, sincerely, at him - the father who was there when she was born and, after that, as often as he could be.

Molly and Jack were clearly relieved that he didn't stay for the reception, too. Though they put on a good show of disappointment when he told them. Oh well. It didn't hurt to keep things civil.

He was about to hit the Stop button and then click on the "Snip" command when he noticed something in the periphery of the frame that he hadn't noticed the first time.

**************************

Where the hell is he? Marge thought. I send him to do one simple thing …

The phone rang.

"Hello …"

It was Didi Prescott. Marge had been expecting that Didi would make one last lobbying attempt, though of course Didi offered another reason for the call: just making sure Marge didn't need anything for the meeting, like folding chairs or plastic cups.

"No, thanks, Didi. I'm fine." Marge didn't know why Didi should suddenly annoy her so, but she did. Maybe she was nervous about having so many people in their unit, though their place was a great deal nicer than some of the other units that had hosted in the past.

"I'll see you at seven," Marge replied cheerfully and got back to filling snack bowls when Grady finally came upstairs with the chairs.

"What took you so long?" she asked him, not really expecting an illuminating answer.

Grady put two of the folder chairs against the wall and then pulled something out of pocket.

"I was going through some of our old boxes. I hadn't been down there in awhile," Grady replied.

"Great, well I was hoping …" she began, but never got to finish.

"And I found this," he told her, unfolding an official looking piece of paper and turning the printed side toward her so she could read it.

She knew what it was, of course, but now was not the time to get into it.

"It's my birth certificate."

"I thought so," Grady said. "But how come your last name is listed as 'Parsons'?"

I don't have time for this, she thought.

*******************

Alexander and Dari Patel took the long way over to Marge and Grady's unit. Even though he'd convinced his wife to go to the meeting (made her see that she had to go), Dari was clearly not looking forward to it.

"It'll be okay, honey," Alexander said to her, and put his arm around in her shoulder in a very un-Alexander Patel kind of gesture, "Nobody will dare say anything to your face."

"You're probably right about that," she laughed awkwardly.

"I'm really proud of you, Dari," he told her. "I really am."

*******************

There hadn't been any time for talking about his wife's "other name" because the other unit owners had started arriving. Grady did his duty of pointing out the location of chairs and directing people to the kitchen for wine, beer or soft drinks before the meeting got started. Didi was first, of course, followed by Bonnie and Rachel, Mike McHenry (they were probably going to talk about capital expense projects), Lacey Grundle and Steve Hartinger.

By the time everyone arrived and it was time to start the meeting, Grady had tried to get Marge's attention, or at least read her expression, but she seemed solely focused on refreshments, napkins and seating arrangements.

Lacey called the meeting to order and thanked everyone for their help and concern during her "health crisis" and thanked Bonnie Devlow and Didi Prescott for stepping in while she was gone. (Didi hadn't really done anything, to speak of, but this was probably Lacey's way of letting everybody know that she knew that Didi didn't intentionally poison her!) She then acknowledged what Didi was probably chomping at the bit to get to - that they'd never finished the election of new officers.

"Before we begin that," Marge Alderwell spoke up without raising her hand, "I think we should include another candidate."

Didi turned abruptly in Marge's direction and Grady thought, for an instant, that she might get up and slap Marge across the face. But, of course, she didn't.

"I think Bonnie's been doing a great job since you've been in the hospital, Lacey, and I think we ought to at least talk about the possibility of her continuing …"

Didi surprised everyone by interjecting, "I have no objection to that."

"Neither do I," Lacey said. "In fact - she gets my vote." Then she remembered her official capacity. "Should we begin the voice vote," she asked the assembled owners.

Responding in the affirmative, the group started voting with Marge officially nominating Bonnie, Lacey seconding it and casting her vote (for Bonnie) and Steve Hartinger was about to add his voice in agreement when Bonnie herself interjected.

"I'm very flattered everyone, really," Bonnie began. "But I don't think I can do it."

Once she had their attention, she explained the reason why:

"I'm starting a masters program in acupuncture in Shanghai in two weeks," she declared and an affirmative, though surprised, buzz filled the room. Rachel smiled, for the benefit of the assembled neighbors, but found it hard to disguise the look of disappointment mingled with pride and resignation.

When the group got through congratulating her, Lacey realized they still had business at hand.

"In that case, I re-nominate Didi Prescott," she told the group.

"I'm sorry, Lacey," Didi responded, "does that mean …?"

"It does," she told them. "I'm a little sick of being president. I think you'll find out pretty quickly that it's not all glamour and cocktail parties."

Didi seemed stunned, but the nomination was quickly seconded and soon everybody had voted in Didi's favor (some, it appeared, reluctantly).

This was not what Didi had been anticipating. In fact, she wasn't even sure it was what she wanted. A lot had changed in the last few days, but here it was, regardless, being handed to her.

There was a round of applause (polite, but with an attempt at enthusiastic) and then there was cake and coffee.