Crabapple Farm kitchen…

"Trixie!" Honey Wheeler exclaimed, bursting into the kitchen of the cheery farmhouse. "You'll never guess!"

Trixie let the plate she'd been washing slip from her fingers and land in the soapy water with a loud splash. Water sloshed, unnoticed, onto the counter top and dribbled down the counter to pool on the floor. "What?" she questioned, tossing the dishrag in after the plate. She grasped her best friend's arms with both hands, leaving finger-shaped imprints in the smooth silk. "Did criminals take over a shack in the preserve?" she demanded. "What? It's only a matter of time, you know!"

Honey giggled and wiggled her way out of Trixie's grasp. "No, silly! It's much better than that!"

Trixie raised an eyebrow. "Better than international jewel thieves? Are you sure?"

Bouncing from one foot to the other, Honey ignored her. "Just think! Senator Frayne is coming!"

Trixie blinked. "Senator Frayne? The one who established the wildlife fund and pushed through legislation ensuring funding for national parks in every state?"

Honey nodded eagerly. "Yes!"

"The one who comes from upstate New York?"

"Yes!"

"The one who was your father's best friend in college?"

"Yes!" Honey exclaimed. "You remember him. He's visited before. Remember? He brought his son—" She broke off abruptly. "Uh oh," she groaned, observing Trixie's mischievous smile.

"That's right," Trixie said, attempting an innocent tone. "He did have a son, didn't he?"

"Trixie," she warned.

"What?" she asked, her eyes wide. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Of course you are," Honey sighed.

"What? I was perfectly nice to Jim!"

"Perfectly ni—Trixie Belden! You made him so angry he had to jump in the lake to cool off!"

"Pfft," Trixie said, waving her hand. "You know redheads. They get offended at the drop of a hat!"

"You told him it was too bad he didn't take after his father."

"I meant political aspirations!" she defended herself. "Honestly. He has enough hot air that he ought to."

"See?" Honey demanded. "See? That's exactly what I'm talking about! You can't go around saying things like that!"

Dropping onto a hard wooden chair at the kitchen table, Trixie broke a cookie in half and popped it into her mouth. "Obviously, I can," she said around the mouthful.

"Oh, Trixie," Honey sighed, taking a seat next to her and selecting a cookie for herself. "Jim was perfectly nice!"

Trixie shrugged. "Whatever. He thought he was such a good rider."

"He was! Remember how he managed Jupiter?" she asked, referring to the Wheeler's beautiful but temperamental gelding.

"Don't be ridic," she sniffed. "I rode Jupiter when I was thirteen!"

Honey raised an eyebrow, and even Trixie had to laugh. "Well, okay. So maybe 'riding' isn't the exact right word," she admitted.

"Considering you only stayed on Jupiter long enough for him to throw you…" Honey teased, getting up to pour glasses of milk for them. "Well, you'll have a chance to prove how good of a rider you are. Apparently Jim is accompanying his father."

Trixie shrugged.

"And so is your brother."

Jim Frayne forgotten, Trixie looked up in surprise. "Really?"

Honey nodded vigorously, her light brown hair brushing her shoulders. "Yes! Daddy sent me to tell you all. Apparently it's a very last minute trip, and that's why Brian didn't let you know himself."

Trixie raised an eyebrow but didn't question her friend's interpretation of events. Brian, older than her by almost eight years, had been gone from Crabapple Farm for so long that Trixie had almost forgotten that he was now the personal physician of the senator. Between the rigours of medical school and his subsequent job of accompanying the senator wherever he went, Trixie couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him.

"We should tell Dad," Trixie said, jumping up and coming dangerously close to overturning the glass of milk Honey had just poured.

"Tell me what?"

Trixie spun around, her outstretched arm catching the glass of milk and knocking it onto its side. Milk tracked across the worn wood table and dripped over the edge.

"Dad" she exclaimed. "You'll never guess!"

Peter Belden smiled indulgently at his favourite (and only) daughter. "Never guess what? That your long-lost brother will be making an appearance in approximately… three… two…"

A sharp rap on the kitchen door caused Peter's grin to widen and Trixie to whirl in the opposite direction, knocking over the second glass of milk.

"Brian!" she exclaimed when a familiar, dark-haired man appeared in the doorway. The years slipped away and she flung herself at him, knocking his glasses askew and pushing him back a full foot. "Brian, it's so good to see you!"

A disgruntled "oof" from behind him barely registered as she tugged him further into the room. "How long are you back for?" she demanded. "It's been so long! Wimpy's has a new owner—can you believe it? The burgers are still almost as god as Moms', though, and the malts are even better than before! But don't tell Mike I said so—he's retired now but he's still a little sensitive about the whole food thing. Oh, everyone is going to want to see you! We'll have to have everyone over to Crabapple Farm. Tomorrow night! Tomorrow night we can—" Realizing that he wasn't listening to a word she was saying, she released him and stepped back far enough to give his arm a smack.

"Brian! You're not listening to me! What—"

She followed his gaze and stifled a giggle as she realized what the problem was. It had only been a matter of time, she realized. Every other man in Sleepyside had fallen under the sweet Honey Wheeler's spell long ago. Brian, however, had left town before Honey had been old enough for him to consider in a romantic sense.

It appeared that she was now old enough.

And judging by the faint blush on Honey's cheeks, Trixie suspected that Honey wasn't immune to the unexpected attention.

"Oh, come on, Bri," a new voice complained good-naturedly. "Are you going to make us wait on the porch all day?"

Brian reluctantly turned toward the voice and Trixie suppressed a groan as a shock of red hair entered the tiny kitchen.

"I see you managed to bring a stray home with you," she groused, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing a beady glare on the newcomer.

"Hey!" Jim protested mildly. "I was invited."

"Right." Her brother forgotten, Trixie tossed her shoulder-length hair over her shoulder. "Probably Brian felt sorry for you. Didn't have anywhere else to go, did you?"

A muscle in Jim's jaw ticked but before he could formulate a retort, a second red-haired man entered the kitchen.

"Peter! Good to see you." Senator Frayne strode into the room. After a brief nod in Honey and Trixie's direction, he grasped his old friend's hand and pumped it.

"Win," Peter smiled. "It's been too long." And without another glance at their children, the two men vacated the kitchen in favour of Peter's den, leaving Jim, Brian, Honey, and Trixie staring after their retreating forms.

"If I didn't know better," Honey giggled, "I'd say that your dads are avoiding you."

"Wouldn't you, if you had the chance?" Trixie retorted, sending a scornful gaze in Jim's direction. "And shouldn't you have said that they were avoiding us?" she questioned, finally turning away from Jim and grinning at her best friend. "You are in the room, too, you know."

"Don't be ridiculous," Brian said, his attention still firmly fixed on Honey. "I'm sure no one has ever avoided Honey. Why would they?"

Honey blushed at the admiring tone of his voice, causing Trixie to roll her eyes and make retching noises.

"Charming," Jim noted. "I begin to see why I haven't heard any stories from Brian about your boyfriends. With such pleasing manners, it's no wonder no one will date you."

"As if I'd want to date any of the boys from around here!" Trixie sniffed. "Or any boy at all! What good are you, anyway? There's nothing a man can do for me that I can't do for myself, and with a lot less bother."

Jim snorted. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Shamus."

"Hey!" she protested. "It was only the one time that I got someone innocent hauled into the police station! And it was an honest mistake! I still say that no one that looks that much like a peanut can be entirely trustworthy."

"Gallagher was awfully suspicious," Honey agreed, though her eyes danced with amusement and she bit her lip in a manner that made Trixie suspect that her best friend was trying not to laugh at her. "And you can never be too careful with the hired help."

"And at least some good came of it," Brian said, smiling at Honey. "Mart never would have taken up an interest in law enforcement if he hadn't seen how Spider handled the investigation."

"I still solved the mystery," Trixie muttered. "But no one ever remembers that. No, they just remember the ancient shriveled man who had to sit in an interrogation room for all of five minutes!"

"Trix, the poor guy nearly had a stroke," Brian pointed out.

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to say that inspired you to take up a career in medicine!" Trixie threw her hands in the air.

"I was already in the third year of my undergraduate program when it happened," he reminded her gently.

"Technicalities," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And I still can't believe that Spider actually hired Mart! I was the one who solved the case! With Honey," she tacked on hurriedly, and gave her friend an apologetic look.

"I was just along for the ride," Honey claimed, linking her arm through Trixie's and steering her away from the men and, hopefully, the volatile conversation. "No credit necessary."

"That's good, because Mart took all the credit anyway," Trixie complained.

"He did not and you know it. Spider told you he'd be happy to work with you if you went to college and the training academy like Mart did."

Trixie wrinkled her nose at the very idea. "I'm much happier with my degree in forensics," she admitted. Her good nature returning as quickly as it had disappeared, she squeezed Honey's arm. "And it won't be long until we can open our own forensics firm!" she exclaimed, her expression dreamy. "It's wonderful of your dad to loan us the start up money and to help us with our business plan."

Honey nodded enthusiastically. "The Sleepyside Police Department is already using our services, and Spider said he was sure a lot of the other smaller police departments would do the same as soon as we have our official business."

"And don't forget what my dad said," Jim interjected. "If you can build a reputation, you'll have plenty of business from the New York wildlife preserves. Not," he added hastily, "that I think it's a good idea. I'm still not convinced that either of you can tell a bicycle tread from a unicycle. Or a red fox from a catamount."

"You'll see," Trixie sniffed. "Honey and I will have the most respected forensics firm in the state, won't we, Honey?"

Honey nodded, her shoulder-length hair swinging gently. "We will," she agreed, her tone brimming with quiet confidence. "We're good at what we do and we don't give up until we have all the answers. How could we not succeed?"

"Just don't let Miss Foot-in-Mouth handle the public relations," Jim advised, earning a glare from Trixie.

"Come on, Honey," she said, deliberately treading on Jim's foot as she flounced past him. "We have a party to plan."

"We do?" Honey questioned, sneaking a glance over her shoulder at Brian as she followed her friend from the room.

"Of course we do! I bet you anything Ms. Trask is on the phone right now, planning the most extravagant party she can manage on short notice for Senator Frayne. And you know she's going to want your help."

Honey nodded. "We really shouldn't let her do all the work," she worried. "She can manage it, of course, but it is short notice, and—"

"And she'll be happy to put us to work," Trixie finished. "Even me. I can at least move furniture around and put the flowers where she tells me. Aren't you going to help?" Trixie demanded of her brother, surprised that he wasn't following in Honey's immediate wake.

"I promised Jim I'd ride through the preserve with him," Brian said, though he sounded disappointed rather than relieved that he wouldn't be part of the party preparation team with the girls.

"We'll be back in time to do the heavy lifting," Jim promised. "And to clean up whatever Miss Nimble Fingers manages to break."

"See that you are," Trixie sniffed. "Around here, everyone pulls his or her weight." And before Jim could make a comment on exactly how much weight Trixie would be required to pull, she sailed from the room, her nose firmly in the air.

"Trixie!" Honey scolded when they were out of earshot of the two men. "I can't believe you! Jim's only been here ten minutes and you're already at each other's throats!"

"You can't believe me? What about you swooning over Dr. Tall Dark and Dreamy?" Trixie ribbed.

Honey flushed, her normally pale face made even more becoming by the rosy glow. "Was it that obvious?" she asked, her forehead puckered with worry.

"Of course not," she assured her, her tone warm. "You were sweet and friendly and perfectly yourself. Brian, on the other hand…" Trixie shook her head. "I've never seen him so goofy! He's got it bad," she confided.

"He barely even knows me!" Honey protested. "It's absurd that—"

"It's not," Trixie said, her tone firm. "He knew you for a few years before he went away to school, and I always talk about you when I email him, and…"

"And what?" Honey demanded. "Is that all you've got?"

Trixie shrugged. "What do you want? A marriage proposal?" Taking the sting out of her words, she tugged her through the door and started up the path to the Manor House. "Why don't you just get to know him and see what happens? It's not like you have to make life-altering decisions this very second."

Honey stopped in the middle of the path, causing Trixie to pull up short. "Trixie, you don't think he'll mind about my little problem, do you?" she whispered, eyes on the well-groomed path.

"Honey Wheeler!" Trixie exclaimed. "Brian is a Belden! And a doctor! He won't care in the slightest that you have stress-induced asthma!"

"Really?" she questioned. "You know how it freaked out Tad…"

"First of all," Trixie said, hands planted firmly on her hips, "Tad is an idiot. You know this."

Honey nodded.

"Second, if he hadn't been driving so aggressively and nearly got you both killed, you wouldn't have had an attack."

Honey nodded again.

"Why on earth did you agree to go out on a date with him, anyway?" Trixie asked, genuinely confused. "You knew he was a jerk. He's always been a jerk!"

"I didn't have the heart to say no to him after Jane Morgan ditched him at the junior prom," Honey reminded her.

"Oh, right." Trixie shook her head. "Sometimes I don't know what to think about Jane," she admitted. "I know you're friends with her and all, but…"

"I know," she admitted. "Jane isn't always the nicest person. But I know what it's like not to have any friends, and…"

"And you're too soft-hearted to let anyone else go through it," Trixie said, and promptly threw her arms around the soft-hearted girl. "You're the kindest person I know, Honey. And I'll try to be nice to Jane," she said, though she didn't sound happy about the prospect.

"I promise it won't hurt," Honey teased. "Much."

"That's what you say now," Trixie muttered. "Jane has a vicious streak, you know. She's like a copperhead, always ready to attack."

"She just needs a friend," she countered firmly. "Or rather, friends ."

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you!" she said, her tone ominous.

"Oh, Trixie!" Honey laughed. "You worry too much. You'll see. Now, hadn't we better find Ms. Trask before she organizes the entire party single-handedly?"

"Race you there!" Trixie cried impishly and broke into dead run. Honey followed at a more sedate pace, smiling all the way.

Meanwhile, at the Manor House stables…

Bobby Belden leaned on his pitchfork and wiped a trail of grimy sweat from his brow. "Regan, are you absolutely positive that the stalls need to be mucked out every day?"

The red-haired groom looked up from where he sat on a rickety rolling chair, his feet propped on his desk. "Why don't we ask your dad about that?"

Bobby grimaced as he remembered why, exactly, he was working as a hired hand at the stable. "Geez," he muttered. "How was I supposed to know that Corey had pot on him?"

"I think it was more the point that you rolled through a stop sign after speeding through Sleepyside." He paused. "Sleepyside. Bobby, did you even think that through? You had to know that either Spider or Mart would pick you up."

"Traitors, all of them," Bobby moaned. "It's not like I hurt anyone!"

Regan raised one eyebrow and Bobby flushed.

"You're right," he admitted. "I was driving unsafely. It was stupid. I was stupid. I'm just glad we didn't get in an accident."

Regan nodded. "We're all glad about that," he said, his tone serious. "But I think you can understand why your dad wants to make sure that you've learned your lesson." He paused, and when he spoke again, his tone was significantly lighter. "So, you still think these stalls don't need to be mucked out every day?"

Groaning, Bobby hefted the pitchfork and set back to work, moving further into the stall. Though he'd never admit it, the weeks of enforced unpaid manual labour hadn't been as terrible as he liked to lead others to believe. The work was mostly enjoyable, and he couldn't deny the effect it was having on his physique. He watched his biceps ripple as he hefted a load of straw and grinned to himself. If he kept up his work at the stables, he'd be able to date any girl at the Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School.

As soon as his parents lifted his grounding, that is.

And until then, he'd just have to flash his newly toned arms around Honey more often. He fell into a rhythm as he cleaned the stall, his thoughts on his beautiful neighbour. Oh, he knew that she was too old for him, but dang she was fine! And it wasn't just her physical beauty that had him gazing wistfully toward the house on the hill. Honey Wheeler was as kind as she was beautiful, and Bobby knew that he'd never be lucky enough to find another girl quite like her. And hey! What was to say she wouldn't come around? He wouldn't be a teenager forever, and didn't it make sense for women to date younger men? After all, statistically, didn't men die younger than women? It would be smart for Honey to date him! And possibly marry him. But he didn't want to jinx it. It would be enough for him if she danced with him at the next party the Wheelers hosted. It was, after all, the only perk to being invited. Other than the food, of course.

"Easy now."

The distinctive trot of the big black gelding broke his train of thoughts, and Bobby blinked as a group of men entered the stables, leading their horses. With a sigh, he realized that he should offer to help groom the animals. It wasn't specifically part of his duties, but he knew that it was right thing to do. He'd even taken one reluctant step in their direction when an unexpected question stole his attention.

"You really think Honey might like me?"

Bobby wasn't certain whether he was more arrested by the topic of conversation or by the actual speaker. He'd recognize the distinctive Belden voice anywhere. After all, he'd been mistaken on the phone for his oldest brother so many times that it barely even registered. It had been amusing the first few times, especially since their physical appearances were polar opposites, but had quickly worn thin, especially since Brian had been absent from Sleepyside for years. Why couldn't anyone ever mistake Brian for him? he wondered, kicking at a pile of straw and sending a few stalks flying.

"You can't be serious," someone groaned. "Really? You're interested in a nice girl? Why would you do that?"

"Of course she likes you," a new voice responded, and Bobby realized that he'd ignored the more disturbing fact—his older brother was poaching on his territory!

"You think?" Brian asked doubtfully. "I mean, I'm not exactly in her social circle…"

"That only matters if you're serious about her! And you don't want to get serious about her. For Pete's sake—she's friends with your sister! Your sister, Brian! And you know Trixie can't have been a good influence on her, what with that sharp tongue and all."

"Jim makes a good point. You did grow up next door to her and your sister is her best friend."

"I did not make a good point!" Jim protested. "Well, actually, I did. But it wasn't the point you thought I made! Brian, you do not want to date your sister's best friend. It's just not worth it!"

Bobby shifted in the stall, attempting to identify the speakers. All he could see without exposing his presence, however, was a shock of red hair.

"That's true," Brian agreed, his tone thoughtful.

"Good," Jim breathed, and Bobby watched as the redhead resumed the meticulous grooming of his horse.

"Not that she's not worth it," Brian said scornfully. "I meant your dad was right when he said we already have a connection."

"Son, you stand a good chance," the red-haired man continued, and Bobby tried desperately to place the voice. It was familiar, but he couldn't quite remember where he'd heard it before. "But if you like, I can put in a good word for you."

Brian hesitated. "You do have a way with the ladies," he admitted, and Bobby found himself clenching his fists. Honey was not a lady. Well, she was, but not in the way Brian was using the word!

"Not like that!" Brian protested, apparently responding to a non-verbal cue from the other man. "You know that your voting demographic shows that you always have more of the female support than any of the other candidates."

Bobby released a long, slow, breath, though his fists remained clenched into tight balls.

"You know it," Senator Frayne quipped, and Bobby immediately recognized the high-profile politician.

It also explained the red hair. Both the senator and his son sported ginger hair and ample freckles, though the senator's hair had darkened with age.

"So, you'll talk to her? I don't know if that's a good idea," Brian said, his voice trailing off. "Makes me seem kind of pathetic, doesn't it?"

Win shrugged. "It's not like I'm going to ask her out for you. I'll just talk you up a little, make sure she knows how successful you are."

Brian nodded slowly. "I guess that's okay," he said doubtfully.

"Of course it's okay," the senator said. "Especially if it gets you what you want."

Brian laughed, obviously reassured by Win's confidence. "Okay. I just hope it really does work," he said, looking toward the Manor House. "She's something else, isn't she?"

Yes, Brian, Bobby wanted to say. She is. And she's mine! But of course he didn't. Because Honey wasn't his. Well, he thought, straightening and returning to his work as the two men exited the stable, that wouldn't prevent him from keeping an eye on the situation. If she happened to fall in love with Brian, that was one thing. But pressure from one of her dad's most influential friends? Not cool.

Nodding decisively, he hung the pitchfork on its peg and tidied up after himself. As soon as Bobby had returned to mucking out the stalls, Regan had deserted him to check on the horses in the corral, so the stable ought to have been empty, and yet, Bobby couldn't shake the feeling that a pair of eyes followed his every move. He walked out of the stables and into the bright sunlight, but the disquieting feeling followed him, and he hurried along the path, anxious to put some distance between himself and whatever or whoever was watching him.

Outside the Manor House stables…

Daniel Mangan stood in the shadow of the copse of trees, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He hadn't lit it. Wouldn't light it. But he couldn't quite throw it away, either. Tucking it back into the pocket of his well worn jeans, he watched as the youngest Belden, the curly-haired blond, followed the senator and his sawbones up the hill toward the house.

So Brian Belden was interested in the Wheeler girl.

Dan snorted. Of course he was. Everyone was interested in the Wheeler girl. And she, inexplicably, remained completely disinterested in any of them.

Well. That was probably smart of her. Still, he got the feeling that Brian stood a better chance than the other men hanging off her heels. He certainly stood a better chance than his younger brother, in any case.

And he knew just the person who'd appreciate having this tidbit of information.

Picking up the tool bag he'd been carrying, Dan rummaged in his bag until he located the cable he'd purportedly been searching for for the last twenty minutes. Idiots, he thought, smirking in the direction of the Manor House. As if cable was really necessary in connecting the wireless network from the house to the office in the stable. It was wireless. But the maid, Celia, had nodded so trustingly when he'd explained what he needed to do that he couldn't resist pulling her chain a little.

And hey. It wouldn't hurt him to actually do the work Ms. Trask had hired him to do. After all, his real boss couldn't care less what he did, as long as he came through with good information. Patting the cigarette in his pocket, Dan whistled an off-key tune and adjusted the waist of his low-slung jeans. Tool belts were useful for all sorts of reasons, he smirked, and not the least of those reasons were the appreciative glances the ladies gave him whenever his pants dipped a little lower and exposed more of his lean hips. No, he might never have a shot with a chick like Honey Wheeler, but he could make her blush a little. He was sure of it.

Back at Crabapple Farm kitchen…

Matthew Wheeler watched a chocolate chip cookie disintegrate in a glass of milk. "I don't understand," he said after a lengthy silence. Frowning, he studied the crumbs. "This is supposed to be good?"

Peter expertly dipped his own cookie and took a bite. "Traditionally, one doesn't actually let go of the cookie," he said, his lips curing into a smirk.

"Ah," Matthew said, and pushed the glass away. "Now you tell me."

Grinning, Peter poured his guest a fresh glass of milk and slid a cookie in front of him. Matthew followed Peter's lead and dipped the cookie, an expression of surprise painting his face.

"That's actually not bad," he said, eyeing the plate of cookies in the middle of the table. Peter pushed the plate closer to him, but Matthew turned away. "I better not," he sighed, patting his stomach. "Maddie will kill me if my tuxedo doesn't fit tomorrow night."

Peter smirked as he selected another cookie and dunked it in his half-full glass of milk. "Helen just lets out the seams in my pants," he smirked.

"Maddie helps me work my calories off," Matthew countered, and waited that extra half-second so that Peter would know exactly how she aided him in working off the extra pounds.

Just as Peter groaned in defeat, the kitchen door burst open, slamming against the opposite wall with a resounding crack. With an air of resignation, Peter turned to greet his son, not even bothering to scold him for what he was sure was a new scuff on the painted wall.

"Oh." Bobby stopped short, marking Matthew Wheeler's presence. "Good. You're both here."

Peter raised an eyebrow. Though he knew his youngest loved his family, he didn't often express relief at seeing them.

"What is it, son?" he asked when it became apparent that the normally unfiltered babbling he'd come to associate with his youngest child was not forthcoming.

Even with the invitation, Bobby hesitated, standing in the doorway with one foot in front of the other, as though he had been frozen in the process of taking a step.

"Cookie?" Matthew inquired, gesturing toward the plate. "Your father has been introducing me to the miracle of cookies dipped in milk. Apparently," he said, gesturing to the counter where his original glass of milk, complete with soaked cookie, sat on the counter, "it works better if you hold on to the cookie and dunk it instead of immersing it in the milk and letting it disintegrate."

Bobby stared at the murky glass of milk. "Wow," he finally said. "I didn't think it was possible to ruin cookies or milk, and you managed to do both."

Matthew grinned. "Yep," he said cheerfully. "And your father took a lot more pleasure in it than he should have," he said, mock-glaring at the other man.

"It's not every day that one has the opportunity to witness Matthew Wheeler dining on chocolate chip cookies and milk instead of caviar and fois gras."

"You're just bitter because I didn't help you out the time you didn't know what to do with the finger bowl at one of Maddie's parties."

Peter scowled. "I almost drank from it, Matthew."

"I know," he grinned. "Believe me, I know."

"Brian has a crush on Honey and Senator Frayne is going to chat her up at the party tomorrow night," Bobby blurted, and then heaved a heavy sigh of relief that he'd managed to get the words out, and in a way that the two men might actually understand.

"What?" Matthew questioned, frowning. "A crush on Honey? What's this about, Peter?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," Peter protested, holding up both hands to indicate his innocence. "This is the first I'm hearing of it." His pleased expression, though, suggested that he was not opposed to the idea of one of his progeny marrying the sweet Wheeler girl.

"But I think Senator Frayne likes her, too," Bobby continued. And even though these words were more potentially inflammatory than his first burst of information, he had no trouble getting them out. "He said he was going to talk up Brian to Honey, but I think he just wants to flirt with her himself."

"But he's too old for her," Peter protested immediately. "He's old enough to be her father!"

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "That didn't stop you and Moms."

Peter pressed his lips together. "There's a difference between twelve years and twenty."

"I don't know," Matthew said thoughtfully. "He'd certainly treat her well."

"Matthew!" Peter exclaimed. "How can you—"

"She's different than Trixie," Matthew said quietly. "Honey wants a man in her life. And she needs someone who will take care of her. Not financially," he said quickly. "Honey has her own money, and even if she didn't, her business with Trixie will turn a tidy profit soon enough. Emotionally, Peter. She needs someone who will protect her heart from the world and encourage her gifts and abilities. And Senator Frayne might have been a bit of a womanizer since Katie died, but you know how well he treated her."

Peter nodded solemnly. "He did. He stood by her through the entire illness."

Bobby's mouth dropped open, bits of cookie falling onto the table. "You can't be serious! Honey and Senator Frayne? That's just wrong!"

Peter handed him a napkin. "Bobby, the older you get, the more you realize that right and wrong are often relative to the situation."

Bobby stared at him incredulously. "This is crazy," he said, getting up and brushing the crumbs from his shirt.

"Son," Peter said firmly. "You will not interfere. Whom Honey chooses to date is ultimately up to Honey." He exchanged a look with Matthew, and knew that the other man had received the message as well. Having an opinion was one thing. Unduly influencing Honey was quite another.

"Fine," Bobby grumbled. "But don't think I'm not going to keep an eye on the situation."

"I'd expect no less," Matthew said, clasping the young man's shoulder.

Nodding, Bobby carried his glass of milk to the counter. He'd keep a close eye on Senator Frayne, Brian, Mr. Wheeler, and especially Honey. Aside from her potential suitors, he hadn't forgotten the feeling of being watched as he left the stable.

Glen Road Inn…

Jonesy sucked the last bit of meat from a drumstick and flung the bone toward the garbage basket. He missed, and the greasy bone landed six inches from the garbage in the heap of his previous attempts.

"I can't believe we're in Sleepyside," he groused.

Luke Tanner shuddered and sucked noisily from his plastic cup of fountain pop. "Hicksville," he agreed. "What does your brother want here, anyway?"

"Half-brother," Jonesy corrected him. "Same ma, different pa. And who knows what Winsome Frayne wants? Other than to torture me, of course."

Luke shrugged. "At least you're not in the slammer anymore."

"Yeah, but look at the price I had to pay to get out. Winny gets to keep me under his thumb to make sure I don't violate parole."

"Still better than jail," he said, but closed his mouth when he realized that Jonesy wasn't interested in his opinion. At least, he wasn't interested in it unless it echoed his own. "All you have to do is stay out of trouble for a few more months and you'll be shed of him," he continued, hoping to soothe the other man's temper. It took Jonesy a while to be goaded to action, but when it happened, it was absolutely terrifying.

"Well, I'm sure we'll find something to amuse us while we're here," Jonesy smirked. "Danny should be coming by with a report from the Wheeler's place any time now."

Luke nodded, wishing that he'd been the one sent to scope out the extravagant estate. Anything was better than being cooped up with Jonesy in a third-rate hotel room in a podunk town that didn't even boast a Starbucks. But Danny was lower on the totem pole and didn't have a record, so it made more sense for him to case the Wheeler place.

Plus, Dan was always able to charm information out of the ladies, Luke recalled bitterly. Somehow the chicks didn't go for his own dirty blond hair and sallow face. Or maybe they could just tell that he didn't care about them in the slightest. He had no idea whether or not Dan actually liked any of the girls he chatted up, but they always seemed to buy whatever he was selling.

He had to give it to the kid; he got the job done.

As if he'd conjured the devil by thinking about him, he heard the distinctive rap at the door they'd agreed on. Luke stood up, stretching his legs to relieve the tension of forced inactivity. Answering doors was apparently beneath Jonesy but Luke didn't mind. It gave him something to do, at least.

"Danny," he said, letting the man into the room.

"Luke," he replied, nodding briefly before stepping past him and shrugging out of his leather jacket. It didn't matter that it was the middle of summer; Luke had never seen Dan in anything other than his jeans, boots, and leather jacket. The white tee shirt he wore underneath the jacket stretched tightly across his chest and was slightly darkened under the arms with perspiration. Luke smirked to himself. He might be bored out of his mind, but at least the hotel room was air conditioned.

"Decent security," Dan reported, leaning against the wall as he addressed Jonesy. "We can crack it if we need to."

Jonesy nodded, having expected nothing less. Matthew Wheeler was a good business man who cared about the safety of his family, but he simply didn't know how easy it was for a determined thief to gain access. Or maybe he did, and just thought that he was safe in Sleepyside.

Fool.

"Not many valuables lying around," Dan continued, "but a decent haul all the same. With the party tomorrow night, we probably won't need to break in at all—security is bound to be lax, what with the caterers and other temporary hired help."

Jonesy grunted and turned back to his chicken, this time tearing the meat from the breast bone with meticulous deliberation.

"Good," he finally said, effectively dismissing Dan.

"One more thing," he said, and Luke leaned forward, recognizing the latent amusement in Dan's expression.

Jonesy didn't look up from his chicken. "What?"

"Oh, nothing much. I just thought you might be interested in the fact that your brother is expressing an interest in Wheeler's daughter."

Jonesy's fingers stilled.

Dan waited.

"He says he's going to talk up Brian to her, but…" Dan shrugged as his words tapered off.

"Huh." Jonesy lit a cigarette, and Dan carefully looked away from the enticing red flare. "We can work with that," he said, and shuffled awkwardly to his feet. Prison hadn't done his stooped shoulder any favours.

Dan felt a sinking sensation, and he wasn't entirely certain that it was due to fact that the enticing scent of nicotine was moving farther away from him. Jonesy and Luke might have helped him out a rough spot when he was a teenager, but he couldn't help but wonder what his life would have been like if he'd never had to walk on the wrong side of the law.

Unfortunately, it didn't look as if he'd ever get the chance to find out.