Bill and Elmore were out on the first flight they could get that morning. Quint disappeared as quietly as he had come in. And Tommy Lee headed for points south to start polo season. I told him as he left that all the other senior citizens were headed to Florida for the winter, too. He growled something. Like I gave a rat's ass.

I went to the Corner with Jade, Ryan, and Bully. Against everybody's protests. Don't walk. Don't stand. Don't work. Blah, blah, blah. Truth was they were right, but I just couldn't stand to be in that house alone after the Cole incident. Every creak made me jump. So I parked myself at a table and complained loudly at the lack of good help, much to everyone's irritation.

The Bailjumpers had returned from a New Year's Eve gig in Detroit. Though they were the Corner's house-band, they toured quite a lot. Bill never went with them when they left town, so one of the guitar players had asked his brother to take the lead vocals a while back. The guy was perfection. He couldn’t have been a better blues singer if he had been born a 70-year old black man on the Mississippi delta. And he didn't have a criminal record. Something unheard of among the original crew.

Then to top it off, the original drummer had to go to Syria on "business" for a couple of days. That was about four months ago. Sam had said ‘what d'you expect from a bunch of spooks.’ So the band held auditions and hired a new drummer. Keith Moon reincarnate. The kid was barely out of his teens, but he was a monster on the skins. Plus he was a little prankster. Not above mooning the audience or putting super glue on his bandmates' guitar picks. He was a hoot! And he refused to play "Rap Mama Goose," endearing him to me for life.

I sat there listening to them rehearse. It was actually enjoyable, now that they were almost a completely real band. Bully and Ryan were into some heavy repair work from the New Year's Eve damage. About half of the waitresses came in to help Jade clean up the place and try to get things back in order. I don't know how much help they were to Jade, as they all took turns being stricken nearly immobile by Bully's incessant flirting. Well, all but Cori. As usual she kept to herself mostly, except to occasionally ask Jade for further instructions. I watched her excuse herself for a smoke break. Out on the alley steps, frigid cold, and only a long-sleeve t-shirt, jeans, and worn tennis shoes as protection. I heard Bill's voice say "little mama" in my head.

Cori stepped out onto the small concrete landing. She pulled a crushed pack of Marlboro Lights and a disposable lighter out of her jeans' pocket. She sat on the cold, bare steps, her knees drawn up close to her to channel her body heat as best she could. She pulled a cigarette out and barely got it to her mouth when suddenly a small flame appeared out of nowhere. A gloved hand holding a sterling silver lighter was directly in front of her. She slowly traced the origin back to a grinning George Cole. Options were none. Cole rested his thick forearms against the metal stair railing. His hands only inches from her. She couldn't bolt an inch before he'd grab her. And yelling was pointless with everyone out front and deafened by the Bailjumpers in rehearsal.

Keep cool. Hang tight. Play the game.

Cori leaned forward slightly until the end of her cigarette glowed. Cole closed the lighter with a flick of his wrist and slipped it into the pocket of his overcoat. The addition of the long, black coat made him look bigger than usual. As if he needed to.

Cori shook her head 'no.' She wrapped her arms around her knees, occasionally flicking the end of her cigarette so that the ashes fell lightly over her tennis shoes. She kept her eyeline there.

Direct eye contact equals challenge. Don't push him. Go with the flow.

Cori picked at the filter end of her cigarette with her thumbnail.

Cori glanced briefly at Cole and nodded her head. Cole grinned again.

Cori stared at her shoes and shrugged.

Cole wore a tongue-in-cheek smirk. He always amused himself if no one else.

Cori took a deep drag off her cigarette. She was trying to keep her silence from appearing confrontational. He was not always easy to read.

Cole leaned closer to her. His voice was genial but his eyes seared through her.

Cori rubbed her chin against her denim-clad kneecap. Her sigh was barely audible.

She glanced at Cole long enough to see him smile and give her a wink.

Cori shook her head ‘no’ but Cole continued his pitch.

Cori took a final drag off her cigarette, the embers almost down to the filter. She dropped the butt to the step below her and crushed it out with her shoe. She looked at Cole hesitantly.

Cole smirked, never blinking an eye for several long seconds.

Cori stood slowly. Cole straightened up from the railing and put his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. Cori turned from him and stepped up to the door, fingers wrapping around the knob.

Cori glanced back towards Cole.

Cori gave him a small nod. He winked and smiled once again.

And with that, he turned and disappeared down the alley. Cori stepped inside the storage room of the Corner, shutting the door with her back. She stood for a moment, shivering. Mostly from the cold, she tried to convince herself.

I heard a quiet voice behind me call out "ma'am." I knew it was Cori before I even turned around. She was the only one who called me "ma'am" even though I had all but begged her to call me "Deb." It was progress, though. It had taken me months to get her to stop calling "Mrs. Strannix." I don't know who was more terrified by that moniker, Bill or me.

Cori tried to maintain a discreet level in the volume of her voice.

Ok, maybe I overreacted a little, but anytime Cole was within spitting distance, there was cause for alarm. Ryan and Bully rushed over to me, Jade not far behind them. Cori looked like she had just been asked to recite the Gettysburg Address in front of the entire class.

Bill's offspring gave me a quick reminder that he did NOT like it when I got excited. Bully placed one protective hand over my bloated stomach and massaged the back of my neck with the other.

Bully’s strong hands massaged my shoulders, and this was comforting beyond belief. But this constant waiting for the other shoe to drop with Cole was maddening.

Cori nodded her head mutely. I sighed deeply, resigned to my exasperation.

Cori slipped away, and Ryan and Bully went back to their repair work, and Jade sat with me while I vented for a bit. We would all be on our toes after an incident like this one and the house scare. We always seemed to keep an extra lookout after one of Cole’s appearances. But this time we got something completely unexpected.

We had been closed for business all day while we cleaned up the place, so imagine our surprise when late that afternoon the front doors blasted open. Also imagine our surprise when we realized that our visitors were a gang of state police. They yanked the Bailjumpers’ bassist right off the stage and hauled him away under our very loud protests. I immediately called Sam and asked him to find out what the hell was going on.

I had calmed down considerably by the time Sam made an appearance a couple of hours later. Poor guy. He had been busting his hump at work, so he was hoping that a few days off at New Years would help him catch up on a little rest. And here I just made him drag his ass back into the office. Sam joined me at the bar where I was talking to Jade and J.C., our hyperactive drummer.

J.C.’s grin faded under Sam’s withering look.

Sam continued.

Sam looked down at the young man in irritated disbelief. J.C. grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.

Sam placed a big hand gently, but firmly on the back of my neck and started to pull me away from the bar.

Even though the house always seemed empty without Bill in it, I felt better just knowing that Sammy was under the same roof. My big brother was a comfort and God knows I needed some comforting. Who knew how long Strannix would be gone this time.

As it turned out, I was about to get a surprise on that front, too.

Bill and Elmore blew in near midnight from D.C. the same day they’d left. Elmore looked as fresh as he had if he’d just woke up from a good eight hours of sleep and a shower. Bill was carrying a large banker’s box that was taped up with duct tape; he looked as if he'd run a marathon. I thought it was strange that they were back so soon. Usually, when he and Elmore dreamed up a reason to go out roaming, they were out for at least three days to a week, taking care of business and tearing up the countryside. Bill knew that the baby was near to appearing, though, and to everyone’s suprise (especially my own), he was spending a lot of time hanging around the house. Not that I minded, what with his leg still weak and his stamina not up to full strength yet...

He passed by me without much more than a glance and a hurried touch on the shoulder. I looked to Elmore.

I switched gears, listening as the basement door flew open. Bill’s footsteps could be heard descending the stairs. I heard him yell at one of the cats, probably Hopper, to get out of the way before he tripped over him.

That was the second time in five minutes he’d mentioned some kind of search for this box, I noted.

He scratched his cheek absently, and shifted his weight to his right foot, and shrugged.

‘Tired’ didn’t seem like the right word, and ‘hot’ wouldn’t be terribly appropriate.

He gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek, then disappeared down the hall to his room. I rubbed my belly; the little one was getting restless, and I knew his time was almost here. I’d had three other children, and I usually got the feeling of when they were getting ready to make their first appearance.

I walked into the kitchen and stood at the door to the basement and listened. I felt like a fool for doing it, but for some reason I didn’t have the courage to knock. He’d decended into the lair, and even though only he knew why, I knew he usually didn’t want to be disturbed unless someone was dying.

I went back upstairs and took a long bath, hoping he’d come back upstairs while I was there, and I’d find him in bed, reading or watching television. Neither happened, and I slipped into an empty bed, wondering what he was up to downstairs.

To take my mind off of it, I picked up the latest tome I was currently engrossed in and started reading. I read up until he came back in, thin-faced and exhausted. He made a bee-line for the bathroom, and I heard the shower start up almost instantly. I didn’t want to disturb him, but it had been a while since I’d seen him.

The bathroom was steamy. I couldn’t see myself in the mirror, and I could barely make Bill’s shape out behind the shower curtain, either washing his hair or some other mundane activity.

There was a short pause.

He said nothing more. I stood and waited outside of the curtain, feeling more than a little silly.

He grunted in what amounted to approval and turned the shower off, parting the curtain and stepping out. The scar on his lower abdomen was two-inches long, a fresh pink scar amidst the other older ones, I was happy to see. His left leg, the trouble child, was looking worlds better. The stitches were gone, but it was thinner than the other, mostly from the inability to put his full weight on it even yet. But it wasn't red, and there weren’t any signs of infection that I could see.

He shifted his weight to his right leg and went about the business of drying his hair. When he dropped the towel, he looked like Albert Einstein, his hair sticking up every which way. He started to tame it with a brush.

The small talk had degenerated to the weather. This was getting bad. Straightforward usually worked with Bill best, so I tried it.

He didn’t hesitate, not even a little.

He shouldered past me and pulled on a pair of flannel pants. I followed him. He must have known what was coming, because just as I opened my mouth, he sighed and fixed me with a look.

I stood, stunned. He relaxed a little and backed down.

He cracked a dry grin.

I didn’t like the sound of that too much, but it was, in it’s own way, an answer. I could live with that. For a while.