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Once the kitchen was cleared of any evidence of a delicious home-cooked meal, they said their goodnights with hugs and kisses. Bixby followed Melanie up to her room and made himself comfortable right in the middle of the bed. She scooted him over as she pulled the comforter down and wriggled into her warm, cozy bed. She let her body settle into the familiar cocoon and easily drifted into a deep sleep.
The next morning, she awoke with a start. For a second, she didn’t know where she was or what day it was. The big lump of fur next to her moved and stretched. She immediately recognized her surroundings. She snapped to. Being in that semi-lucid state could cost her. It almost did the night of the never-date-again incident. She also realized she hadn’t slept so deeply since she’d joined OSI. She wondered if she ever would once she went back to work. She didn’t want to think about it. As she scanned her bedroom, many things reminded her of the time when she was innocent. Naïve. She sure could talk about many things. It was the experiential part of life she needed to get under her belt. She supposed that was what life was really all about. Experiencing it. Bixby nudged her arm. “You are correct. There is plenty of time to be serious. Pancakes are a priority right now.” Bixby leaped off the bed at the mention of pancakes.
Melanie and Bixby made their way into the kitchen. They were the first up. She put on a pot of coffee, dug out the eggs, pancake mix, butter, maple syrup, and table cream. Bixby tilted his head and gave a funny yowl.
“What?” He got in a downward dog position facing the refrigerator. She opened the door and spotted the package of bacon. A quart of blueberries sat on the middle shelf, along with many of Melanie’s favorite foods. She smiled. “Yes, definitely a mom.”
Once Melanie started frying the bacon, it didn’t take long for the others to appear. Justin was first. “Morning. Mmm. Smells good.” He kissed her on the top of her head. Even though Melanie was tall, Justin was five inches taller. He poured himself a mug. “Refill?” He glanced at her mug sitting on the counter.
“Not yet, thanks.” She wondered if she should share her concerns about future nights’ sleep. Why not? She’d never pulled her punches before. “Jus? How do you sleep at night?”
He tilted his head. “How do I sleep at night? Or how can I sleep at night?” He thought she might be alluding to what he did for the Air Force.
She flipped the bacon. “Make the batter, please.” She gestured to the ingredients. “Last night was the best sleep I’ve had since I started this adventure. When I woke up this morning, I was disoriented. Only for a few moments.”
“That’s not unusual. You’ve moved a couple times in the past year. What I find helpful is to tell yourself where you are just before you fall asleep. When you feel yourself coming awake, tell yourself where you are. If you’re not sure, remember the last thing you told yourself.”
“Thanks.” She put that bit of advice in her vault. She was about to talk to her brother about her newly acquired skill as marksman, when Dorothy and Peter breezed into the kitchen.
“What have we here?” Peter took a big inhale of the bacon aroma that was filling the room.
“Breakfast!” Melanie grinned. “It’s been a long time since I was let loose in a kitchen. Mostly takeout or institutional food.”
Justin fired up the griddle. Dorothy and Peter set the table, and Bixby sat in the middle of the kitchen to be sure he didn’t miss anything. It was such a normal occurrence that everyone was accustomed to stepping over or around him. Only once had his tail been caught under a foot. Since then, he kept it tucked between his legs. He was no dummy.
As they passed the plates, the conversation turned to what they were going to do over the weekend. When Dorothy suggested the National Arboretum, coffee flew from Melanie’s mouth and nose. She vigorously wiped her face between coughs.
“Are you okay?” everyone asked.
“Yes. I’m fine. Went down the wrong pipe.” Melanie was telling a half-truth. Should she tell them about her adventure in horny young men? Men who have to drug their dates to get into their pants? That was something Melanie couldn’t wrap her head around. Why would he do that? He was charming and good-looking. Then, she remembered, so was Ted Bundy. A chill went up her spine. Her jaw dropped.
Dorothy leaned closer. “Honey, are you sure you’re alright?”
Melanie shook it off. “I’m okay. Really. Now pass me some bacon before Justin eats it all.” Melanie tried not to go back to the thought of Wayne being a sociopath, or psychopath. But what if he was? She checked herself. Think about it when the weekend is over. Psychological profiling seemed even more important now.
Rushing to change the subject, she said, “I hadn’t given our weekend plans much thought. I just want to sit on the patio. Have Dad grill some chops. A nice bottle of wine. We don’t have to go anywhere or do anything.”
“I’m all about that, too,” Justin added. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been together.”
“Okay, but if we start getting on each other’s nerves, someone is going to have to find something else to do,” Dorothy insisted.
“Deal,” Melanie replied.
“Works for me,” Peter added. “Happy to grill some steaks.”
“No argument here,” Justin responded.
“Yeah, you’ll save it for later,” Melanie teased.
After they cleared the table and restored the kitchen to pre-breakfast status, they moved outside.
Normally Dorothy would be showing houses or condominiums, and Peter would be doing the filings, but they’d handed off potential clients to their colleagues that weekend. Spending time with the family was worth more than a commission.
The patio was made of paving stones and decorated with large ceramic pots filled with million bells, cascading petunias, and vinca vines. The patio ran the entire length of the house, extending out fifteen feet where it met with the rest of their yard. The roofline of the house created an awning effect over part of the patio, shielding them from direct sunlight. It was the perfect spot for an outdoor dining area and had enough space to accommodate Peter’s Napoleon Prestige 500 grill.
The same stones had been used to create walking paths throughout the landscaping. There was no traditional lawn, but there were lots of trees and plants. On one side was a putting green. The other held a horseshoe pit. The yard was its own vacation spot. A place where the family could congregate, entertain, and relax. Peter and Dorothy had bought the home thirty years before and made renovations over the years. They’d learned that people with high-pressure jobs and an unpredictable commute wanted more space for the family to entertain. Having an inviting backyard was a plus. It was an outdoor living space.
Like everywhere else, the more money you had, the bigger and nicer your house, and the better your neighborhood. The richest people in Washington DC lived within twenty miles of the Capitol, either in Georgetown, Lincoln Park, Observatory Circle, or a few other neighborhoods where properties fetched double-digit millions. The Drakes could probably get a million for their place, but no one was in a hurry to go anywhere, and they didn’t know where Melanie or Justin would end up or with whom.
