In the days before picking up their new puppy, the Frayne family had talked to the kids about introducing a new pet into their family and about responsibility and things of that nature, so all that was left to discuss on their way home from the kennel, with their new puppy secured safely in back, was the puppy itself.

“We have to name him,” Jim pointed out, checking both ways before pulling out onto the main road.

“I call ‘im Moo,” Kevin Peter Frayne declared, squeezing his stuffed cow, a gift from Uncle Brian and Aunt Honey after a long weekend at Mead’s Mountain.

Trixie giggled. “We need to name the puppy, sweetie, not your stuffed animal.”

“ ‘ Know,” Kevin huffed. “CowCow ‘n I call ‘im Moo.”

“I could have told you his stuffed animal wasn’t called Moo,” Eric Matthew Frayne pointed out.

Trixie did know her unimaginative younger son called the stuffed cow CowCow, but she’d hoped…. She risked a glance at Jim to see how he was reacting to the proposed name for the, admittedly, black and white puppy.

“Kevin, we can’t call the puppy Moo,” Jim tried.

“Why not?” Eric asked, sounding innocent, but his eyes glittered just like his mother’s did when she was up to something liable to give Jim gray hair. “It’s not like there are rules for naming a dog.”

Jim sighed. “Because the puppy is a puppy and not a cow.”

“CowCow!” Kevin babbled excitedly, waving the stuffed animal in question around wildly.

“Be careful not to hit your brother with that,” Trixie warned Kevin.

Jim noticed she was decidedly not answering her older son’s question, or seconding his assertion that they weren’t naming the puppy Moo. “Back me up here, other adult in the car,” he requested.

Trixie shrugged. “I think your son’s made it pretty clear that he’s going to call the puppy ‘Moo’ regardless. You can tell people it’s short for something.”

“Like what?” Jim demanded. She was supposed to be on his side. They were not naming the dog Moo!

“Mooch,” Trixie suggested. “You know he’s going to be constantly nosing for scraps, since he’ll get them off the kids either on purpose or by accident.”

“Or Mufasa,” Eric offered. “All of Sleepyside knows we’ve watched The Lion King often enough, ever since Nala became Kevin’s first celebrity crush.”

Trixie snorted at Eric’s colorful interpretation of his brother’s fascination with the movie’s star lioness.

“Or Munchkin,” Eric continued, “At least until he’s bigger than Kevin.”

Jim considered that. “I think Kevin will keep on par or ahead of him, actually, having the three-year advantage.”

“That and he’s inherited his daddy’s height, just like you. Lucky for both of you, not getting stuck with the Johnson short-and-squat build,” Trixie told her oldest.

“It’s cozier for story time, though,” Eric assured his mother, which she had to admit might be true. Both boys tended to come to her to read them stories.

“We’re not calling the dog ‘Moo’,” Jim tried, one last time.

Trixie patted his leg. “Whatever you tell yourself, dear.”

“Hello, Mr. Frayne. This is Sarah from Spring-loaded Kennels. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you after you expressed interest in one of our springer spaniel pups; I usually try to be more responsive, but I was out of town for the holiday weekend.”

“Of course. I didn’t expect anything over Thanksgiving, and it’s still several weeks before the puppies can be sent to new homes anyway, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. Have you ever raised a dog from birth before?”

“No, ma’am. The dog I had as a teenager was about six months old when I got him.”

“Then, unless you’re absolutely dead set on having your new puppy for Christmas, I’d recommend waiting until after the first of the year. Puppies are a little bit more ready for training, including house-training, by ten weeks than they are at six or eight. Plus, especially with people adopting puppies for the first time, I’ve found the holidays aren’t generally the best time to introduce a puppy into a family. There’s a lot of bustle and stress, and the inevitable puppy issues tend to be a last straw.”

“That’s fine. I was going to ask if we could wait to pick up our puppy until sometime the week after Christmas, or even New Year’s Day anyway. The kids don’t know we’re getting a dog; we’re planning to gift them some of the supplies as a hint.”

“How old are your children?”

“Eight and three,” Jim answered.

“And you’re prepared to supervise all interactions between the kids and the puppy? This puppy will be in the play biting stage for a while, even as the adult teeth come in, and kids can be overly enthusiastic, especially with a new pet.”

They spoke for another half an hour. Jim might have bristled at the interrogation, but it was obvious Sara cared about her spaniels and just wanted to be as certain as she could be that they were going to good homes, and, especially, that this wasn’t a puppy with a bow on its head under the Christmas tree situation that all too often ended with the puppy in a shelter faster than New Year’s Resolutions were abandoned.

“Alright, Mr. Frayne, I think we can find you a puppy. I’ll send you an email shortly with more of the particulars. Puppies are first-come, first-serve at the time you pay the deposit, so if you want a particular puppy, you’re welcome to come out and meet them. Otherwise, you’ll have the pick of any puppies that haven’t been spoken for yet at the time you come to get your new family member. You’ll see this in the information I’m sending, but I like to call it out. I do ask that if, for any reason, you are unable to keep the dog for the length of its natural life, and you are unable to find a suitable home for it yourself, that you return the dog to me rather than giving it up to a shelter. I know a lot of people who love springers and will take even older or difficult dogs and I know the breed better than a general-purpose shelter; I will have better luck rehoming the dog.”

“That seems reasonable, though I don’t anticipate any need to rehome the dog.”

“Life happens,” Sara said flatly. “It’s hard to predict what the next ten to fifteen years will bring.”

“It is,” Jim agreed, thinking about what his life had looked like fifteen years ago. He’d have been contemplating running away from Jonesy to attempt to find his estranged great-uncle about then. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to envision meeting Trixie, getting away from Jones’ influence, their marriage and kids, and everything that filled his life now.

Trixie sighed, sinking into the couch. She was glad the kids had gone to bed easily; it had been a long day at Belden Frayne Detective Agency and she didn’t think she’d had a fight about sleeping in her.

Jim kissed her temple, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Kind of a day?”

Trixie nodded.

“So not a good time to talk about anything serious?”

“No, it’s okay. We don’t get that many chances to talk about important stuff that isn’t kid-safe. I don’t have to make any hard decisions tonight, do I?”

“No,” Jim promised.

“Alright. I’m all yours then.”

“Okay, and let me preface this by saying I’m fully aware that even though you love how I’m the plan ahead person in our relationship, because you know you aren’t, and so we complement each other well in that regard, you’re probably going to think that I’m pushing that plan ahead thing a little far to even be thinking about Christmas already, since there’s at least two major holidays between here and there.”

“But you’re already thinking about Christmas,” Trixie concluded with amusement. “Before Halloween.”

“Maybe a little,” Jim admitted. “We both know that the kids are getting to an age where they’re going to be asking us for a pet. Neither of us have had a dog since Reddy passed, so I was just wondering what you were thinking, and if we might want to get a dog on our terms, rather than at the kids’ demand.”

“I could be tempted,” Trixie admitted. “I love dogs; you know that. I was really glad we didn’t have one when the kids were born – infancy and toddlerdom was enough excitement without a four-legged baby in the mix – but you’re right. They are going to want a pet soon, and I don’t think either of us envisioned our future without a dog.”

“I was thinking all the presents we give the boys – and maybe we could even enlist the others to help with the cause – could be stuff for the dog, and we’ll see if either of them inherited their mom’s nose for mysteries and figure it out.”

“Eric will certainly figure out that the dog toys aren’t his parents deciding to go cheap for the second kiddo. I mean, he knows he’s his daddy’s favorite, and all, but…” Trixie teased.

“We’re parents. We do not have favorites. Categorical denial of any favoritism.”

“Mmhm,” Trixie said, pretending to be serious. “Just think how disappointed he’ll be in a few months when he realizes that really your preference is for not having to change diapers, and so you took on taking care of the other kid as a means of avoiding diaper duty.”

“Should have known my shamus would ferret out my motives,” Jim replied, tugging his curl.

“After two kids, I’m pretty sure the world knows your feelings about diaper duty are right up there with my feelings on sewing. It’s a good thing I love you and am willing to be bought off with dishwashing, dusting, and vacuuming. Oh, and morning dog walks, because you are taking the dog with you on your morning runs. I can barely get myself out of the door on time in the morning, so you are 100% responsible for getting the kids and dog through their morning routines.”

Jim laughed. “Absolutely,” he agreed. “Sign me up for mornings. And we’ll teach Eric that first thing after school he has to help take the dog for an afternoon walk. He’s too young to do it all on his own, but there’s no reason not to set the precedent.”

“He’s eight, Jim. He’ll grow up perfectly responsible. What choice does he have with you as his dad?”

“I know. And I trust you to keep me in check if I start expecting him to be more grown up than his age because I had to grow up faster than I should have had to do. I want him to have the full childhood I didn’t.”

“I know,” Trixie assured him, nestling in. “And I will, I promise.”

Trixie knocked on the door of Jim’s dorm room one evening in early May. Jim smiled when he opened it. “Trixie, hi! Come in; I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we were both going to study hard for finals this week.”

“This couldn’t wait.”

“Okay. Come in,” Jim said again, waving her in. “What’s going on? Something with the case?” The D.A. was doing his best to keep the case against his step-father from going to trial before graduation.

“No, it’s not about the case,” Trixie said. She sat down on the edge of Jim’s bed. “Sit, please.”

Jim sat next to her. “Trix, what is it?”

“I… um, well, I’m pregnant.”

Jim blinked a couple times. “You’re what? I thought…”

“Yeah, so did I. I … you know how I am. Sometimes I forget to take the pill until later or miss a day. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but I guess even not taking it at a consistent time of day can make it less effective, and nothing’s 100% anyway.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Not to sound like I don’t trust you, but are you sure?”

Trixie nodded. “I took a test yesterday, when I was late for a second month. When it was positive, I made an appointment at the clinic this morning. They took blood and confirmed it.”

“And it’s definitely ours? Mine?”

“Yeah. No other possibility.”

Jim pushed off the bed, pacing for a little while, hands running through his hair. “What are you thinking?” He finally asked her.

“I don’t even know. I mean, I’m keeping the baby. That’s not in question. And I didn’t come here to put any expectations on you. We didn’t plan this. If you don’t want to or can’t be a part of this, I won’t hold it against you.”

“No way. I’m responsible for the baby as much as you are. This isn’t what you had planned, either. We’ll figure it out together.” Jim sat back down beside Trixie putting an arm around her shoulders. “This isn’t how I planned this. I don’t have the ring yet, I don’t have a grand romantic gesture planned, or a speech, but we do love each other, and I think we had every intention of spending our futures together. Do you want to get married?”

“I don’t know,” Trixie said honestly. “Yes, I love you and I’ve thought about getting married someday. I didn’t think it’d be like this. It’s a lot simpler if we’re married. We don’t have to make any legal arrangements as far as shared custody and responsibility and whatever. But we’ve both seen that getting married or staying married for the kid, not each other, it’s not good for anyone. Let’s think about it a little more, okay?”

“Yeah. Whatever you want, Trixie. I’m here. Have you told anyone else yet?”

Trixie shook her head. “I think I need to tell my parents in person. Would you come with me this weekend?”

“Absolutely. What about Honey and Dan? Do you want to tell them before we go to Sleepyside or after?”

“Before, I think?”

“Alright. You let me know when, and I’ll be there.”

Trixie turned away from the lunch line with her tray. Her eyes went to a handsome redhead eating alone. She’d seen him around campus in passing last year; enough to know he was a senior this year, that he was friendly and unfailingly polite, with some old-school notions of chivalry. In brief, he was exactly the sort of person she’d usually ask to sit with during the busy lunch rush when those eating alone couldn’t commandeer their own table. The question was whether she could do so now without him getting suspicious that she had an ulterior motive, or at least a different ulterior motive than every other single coed would have for eating with a handsome, presumably single, upperclassman.

It’s practice, Belden. If you’re going to be a private investigator, you’ve got to be able to talk to people and find out what they know without giving up what you’re after.

She was shadowing at the precinct just off campus, hoping they’d put in a good word for her for an internship, or to the Police Academy or however she decided she was going from school to P.I. One of the officers had asked her if she knew James Winthrop Frayne the Second and had shown her a picture. She’d told them the truth – that, as one of the tallest redheads on campus, she knew she’d seen him, but didn’t know him to speak to. They’d asked if she might try to make his acquaintance. His step-father was apparently a shady character, associated with even shadier characters who they expected were involved in drug trafficking. They thought Frayne might know something, and be willing to share it, but he’d be more likely to spill to a friend than police, likely scared of his step-father. Trixie could read between the lines that implied abuse, which was part of why her deception about her intentions had Trixie so on edge. Hadn’t he had enough of people not treating him right?

She’d considered declining the precinct’s request—and they were very clear that it was completely voluntary and would have no impact on her standing with the precinct or her future opportunities—but, at the same time, drug trafficking. She’d stood in three vigils last semester for fellow university students who had died of overdoses. Just on her campus, just in one semester. Anything she could do to limit the number of vigils there would be this semester, and the five more semesters she had after that?

Trixie put on her best happy smile as she walked up to Frayne’s table. “Mind if I join you?” She asked pleasantly.

James looked up from his textbook startled. “Yeah, of course. I mean, no. No, I don’t mind; by all means.”

“Trixie,” she introduced.

“Jim,” he replied, offering a hand to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you. I don’t want to keep you from studying.”

“Oh no,” he said, closing the text. “The test isn’t for a week. Unless you were planning to study?”

“Nah. I can never focus with this much going on.”

By the time Trixie finished her lunch and headed to her next class, she had to admit that had been the most enjoyable meal she’d had in one of the campus cafeterias without Honey since she started college. Jim was honestly pleasant, seemed genuinely interested in their conversation, and, if anything, surprised by anyone taking a genuine interest in him, or showing any kindness. He deserves better, she thought again.

“Trixie!” Jim called out a week later, waving to her as she searched for a place to eat.

“Who’s that?” Honey asked.

Trixie led the way over to the table. “Jim, this is my best friend, Honey. Honey, this is Jim. I ate with him about a week ago. You know how it is trying to find a table in here between classes.” Honey nodded agreement as they settled down at Jim’s table. “How was the test?” She asked Jim.

“What test?”

“You said that you didn’t really need to study last time, because the test wasn’t until next week. But now it’s next week and you don’t have a textbook out, so I’m assuming you took it?”

“Yeah, yesterday afternoon. Can’t believe you remembered that. And, uh, I think it went well. I mean, there’s never really any knowing until grades come back, but I think I did okay.”

“If you were ‘cramming’ a week ahead, I’m sure you did great,” Honey told him.

Trixie and Jim’s class schedules put them in the cafeteria together at the same time most days. Trixie genuinely liked him. Maybe more than liked him. She’d never had the kind of crushes the other girls in high school had, but she felt something with Jim that she’d never felt with anyone else. And yet, how could she pursue those thoughts when she was supposed to be figuring out if he knew anything about drug trafficking?

“Hey, Trixie,” Jim said, reaching out to stop her when she was about to get up. “This is probably ridiculously forward of me, since the extent of our interactions is small talk over lunch when there’s really no better option for either of us, but, um, would you want to go to dinner with me, off-campus?”

“James Winthrop Frayne the Second, are you asking me on a date?”

Jim blushed. “That depends.”

“On?”

“If I was, would you say yes?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Is six too early for Friday?”

“Six is fine.”

Two months later, Trixie and Jim were relaxing on the futon in his dorm room, the credits for a movie rolling because neither of them had leaned forward to grab the remote and turn it off. “Are you excited to get home for Thanksgiving?” Trixie asked, mostly just to say something.

The question caught Jim so off-guard he couldn’t suppress the instinctive shudder. Knowing Trixie had to have felt it, since she was leaning up against him, Jim didn’t try to deflect. “No, not even a little.”

“Sorry; I didn’t mean to strike a nerve,” Trixie apologized, giving him an out.

“You couldn’t have known,” Jim reminded her. “It’s not like I walk around broadcasting my whole life story. Uh, so, my dad died when I was about ten. Mom remarried. He was… he was good to her, but I always hated him. Part of it was because he wasn’t my dad, but part of it was just that I knew. Just that sense you get meeting some people that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up because you just know they aren’t a good person.”

Trixie nodded.

Jim pulled away. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t talk about the rest with anyone close to him. He wasn’t sure he could talk about it, period. He never had before. “Uh, it started when we got home from her funeral. At first, it was only when he was really drunk, and I could brace myself for it. But then…. I don’t know if it’s more accurate to say he’s just always really drunk, or it got worse.”

“I’m so sorry. You were a minor, right? And a smart one, right, so there must’ve been some reason you didn’t go to a teacher, or police, or some other mandatory reporter?”

Jim shrugged. “Awful as he was, it was the devil I knew. Thought I could handle it. Keep my head down; I actually finished two years of high school in one. Figured I’d get into college on scholarship, and Jonesy was pretty clear he hated spending money on me, and once I was 18, he wouldn’t have to, so I’d be free and clear of him.”

“Not how it worked out?” Trixie offered, as if she didn’t have suspicions from her shadow days at the precinct and their continued questions about Frayne and Jones and his associates.

“Guess I’m still useful enough to waste money on,” Jim said uncomfortably.

“Come home with me,” Trixie offered impulsively. “Moms throws a big Open House and the farm has stretchy walls. It’ll be no trouble.”

“I’d love to,” Jim said. “I don’t think Jonesy’ll go for it, but I appreciate the offer.”

“You’re 18; you could come anyway,” Trixie pointed out, resolving to give her mother a head’s up that she might be bringing a friend home for break. She knew it wouldn’t be a problem, whether Jim was able to make it or cancelled last minute.

Jim had, somewhat hesitantly, come to Sleepyside for Thanksgiving break. When they were ready to return to campus, Moms had told Jim to come back anytime. Trixie had followed that up on the train ride, with an open invitation any break, or any holiday, if he chose to stay on campus between semesters, or after graduation.

She didn’t press about winter break after that. She’d made the offer; she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. She’d realized after their conversation before Thanksgiving that he’d never said exactly what it was that had started when they got home from his mother’s funeral, but physical abuse had been strongly implied, and she had no interest in getting him in trouble with Jones if that was the case. And, based on Jim’s comment that he was ‘still useful enough to waste money on’, Jones would probably tell him he shouldn’t impose on another family for Christmas, of all things. And Trixie’s criminal psychology classes suggested that the sort of man who would hit a child he should think of as his own, might be the sort to be possessive of what he considered his, and if he felt any sort of familial tie to Jim, he’d probably take offense to Jim not wanting to spend Christmas with him.

But now, as they waited for the light at the last intersection before their paths diverged, after their last lunch together of the semester, she couldn’t help but be a little bit impulsive. She was grateful for the relatively warm December day that meant neither of them had a scarf wound around their necks or faces as she stood up on her toes and gave Jim a soft kiss.

“Trix,” Jim sighed when she dropped back on her heels as the light changed. It didn’t sound like he was upset about what she’d done. But it also didn’t particularly sound like he’d instigate more on the other side of the street. Trixie decided she was okay with that, at least for today.

“Don’t worry. After three semesters, I’m sure I can unpack for you,” Trixie told Honey.

“I know you can. It’s just…”

“You’d rather be here, keeping me from making ‘a mess’ than at whatever fancy shindig you have to make an appearance at tonight to maintain the Wheeler-Hart International image, even though you’ve made it clear to your father and his entire company that you won’t be taking over as CEO when he retires.”

“Exactly, but at least Brian’s free, since the semester hasn’t started, so the company will be better than usual.”

“Anything is better than Ben Riker as a dinner partner, even my dear brother,” Trixie agreed. “Go on. You’re supposed to be meeting him in five minutes.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Oh, hi, Jim!” Honey greeted, seeing Trixie’s friend in their doorway.

“Jim!” Trixie said brightly, smiling widely.

“Hi, Trix,” he said quietly. “Bye, Honey,” he added as she headed out into the hall past him.

“Come on in, have a seat, if you want,” Trixie invited him, waving to the chair of Honey’s desk. Hers had a box open on the seat and bags hanging off the back.

Jim sat, clasping his hands nervously between his knees. “You kissed me, before break,” Jim blurted out after a moment.

“I did,” Trixie said with a smile at the memory.

“I… I want that, Trixie. I want to take you out to dinner, and other places, just us. I want to date you, and call you my special girl, and I want to kiss you, and maybe even other things, if we both want to with each other someday.”

Trixie blushed. She’d had a few fantasies along those lines herself.

“But,” Jim continued seriously, “you don’t know who you’re getting into bed with, not really, and I… I can’t live with the deception, and I can’t drag you into this.”

“So, what?” Trixie asked, perching on the edge of her as-yet-unmade bed. “This is goodbye?”

“No! Well, maybe, if you want it to be. I’d understand, really, I would. But, before that, I know you were shadowing at the precinct last semester. Do you know any cops who might be willing to come here some night this week and hear me out before they arrest me or whatever?”

It wasn’t that Trixie hadn’t wondered if Jim had gotten sucked into whatever his step-father was involved in that the police were investigating, or if they suspected Jim of being involved and that’s why they’d wanted her to befriend him, and it certainly wasn’t as if she didn’t know plenty of cops who would listen to anything Jim wanted to confess, but Jim wasn’t a criminal. She knew she was thinking with her heart, not her brain, but she didn’t believe in his guilt, even though she could believe he might have committed crimes at his step-father’s insistence.

“I’ll ask someone,” Trixie promised Jim. She had a few ideas. She’d run them past Dan. They’d approached him about this case, too. He’d pointed out that he couldn’t talk to anyone he knew on the criminal side of the law in New York City, as he’d be identified as a snitch immediately, but he’d willingly told them everything he knew about the Cowhands that were still alive and out of prison, and about Al Finlay, and all of his associates that Dan knew, though he’d never heard of Mr. Jones before. If this case ever wrapped up, the cops had promised to put a good word in for Dan with the police academy, which would hopefully be enough for them to overlook the sealed juvenile record. Still, it meant Dan knew all of the cops she did, and he’d have an opinion about who might be most sympathetic to the plight of a young man who had fallen into crime because it didn’t seem like he had any other choice, and who would just want to make a bust.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Honey said over her shoulder as she danced out the door a few evenings later.

Trixie snorted. She’d asked Honey to vacate the dorm for the evening, so that she and Jim could talk with the officer who going to stop by in half an hour or so. This early in the semester, Brian had been amenable to having his girlfriend over at his apartment for the night, since he hadn’t been assigned rotations at the hospital yet, nor much coursework to study.

A minute after the door snicked shut behind Honey, a knock announced Jim’s arrival, making Trixie suspect Honey had seen him down the hall and her parting comment had been for the likely nervous redhead. Trixie opened the door, waving Jim in.

She hugged him as the door closed behind them. “Officer Carter will be here in half an hour,” she told him. “It’ll be okay. Whatever comes out tonight, we’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Jim said tightly, dropping into Trixie’s desk chair.

“I’m not sure if you heard,” Trixie continued, mostly to distract him, “but you don’t have to worry about Honey. She’s spending the night at her fiancé-to-be’s.”

Jim’s head popped up. “Are you supposed to be giving away your brother’s secrets?”

Trixie giggled. “It’s not Brian’s secret; it’s Honey’s. You’ve met Brian. He’s like you—responsible, studious—and big on sticking to the plan. He’s driven and he’s wanted to be a doctor since before I can remember. He knows there’s still medical school and residency after he graduates in the spring, and he’s not naïve—he knows how hard being the significant other of a doctor-to-be is, and that being a doctor’s wife isn’t everyone’s cup-of-tea, so he absolutely won’t even contemplate proposing until he has his medical license, despite the fact that they’ve been dating since the day Honey turned seventeen, and probably would’ve been together since about the time we were thirteen, except the first time Mr. Wheeler met Brian he put the fear of God in him if he presumed to ask her out when she was still below the age of consent.”

Jim snorted. He’d met the formidable Matthew Wheeler at the Beldens’ Thanksgiving Open House and was half-way afraid of the man himself, even though the man had been pleasant enough, especially when he realized Jim really was the son of the Winthrop and Katje Frayne he’d been friends with in college. Truth to tell, Jim suspected Matthew had been in love with his mother, too, and that was why Matthew had made himself scarce after Jim’s parents’ wedding, but that was just supposition from the way Mr. Wheeler had told the stories he’d shared about Jim’s parents.

Trixie giggled again. “Yeah. Well, Honey doesn’t see the need to wait for engagement, even if they have to put the wedding and/or honeymoon off due to the demands of Brian’s career. She’s going to propose at his graduation party.”

Jim had to admit his notions of romance and marriage were traditional enough that the idea of a woman proposing felt weird to him, but the plan fit with the woman Trixie had introduced him to, and he believed Brian would say yes, given what little he knew of the man.

A knock on the door startled them both. Trixie got up after giving Jim a tight smile and went to answer it. “Officer Carter, thanks for coming,” she greeted, more pleasantly than Jim could have managed. “This is Jim.”

Jim put his hand out to shake the officer’s hand on reflex.

“Do you want anything to drink? Either of you? We’ve got a pitcher of filtered water, and one of lemonade – though it’s only from a mix – and there’s still some strawberry pop.”

“I’m fine, Trixie, thank you,” Officer Carter replied, pulling out Honey’s desk chair to sit down.

“Water’s fine,” Jim said when Trixie looked at him.

She nodded bustling around to get a tumbler and fill it with water from the pitcher in the minifridge. “I guess I should ask before I assume I’m allowed to stay,” Trixie observed as she handed the glass to Jim.

“That’s up to Jim,” Officer Carter said after a minute.

“Stay, please,” Jim confirmed. He had asked her to set this up here, in her dorm room, for a reason. He needed the moral support.

Trixie squeezed his shoulder as she boosted herself up on her bed, legs swinging.

“This is a recorder,” Officer Carter explained, pulling a device out of one of the utility pockets on her uniform. “It’s department policy to record any conversations we have with civilians in an official capacity, especially when, as I am tonight, an officer is working apart from their partner. For the record, this is Officer Lucille Carter. Please, state your name for the record,” she said with a gesture toward them.

Jim licked suddenly dry lips. “I’m Jim. Uh, James Winthrop Frayne the Second.”

“Beatrix Helen Belden,” Trixie said, steadily, though she couldn’t help pulling a face at her detested first name. “Trixie,” she added, realizing that if anyone referred to her, it’d be by her preferred name.

“Okay, Jim, before we get down to it, based on what limited information Trixie was able to share when she asked me to meet with you tonight, I believe there is a reasonable expectation that what you are about to say may implicate you or others in criminal activity. As such, I need to remind you that you have the right against self-incrimination, and that, by speaking, you waive that right and any statements you make to me may be used in the prosecution of criminal offenses against you and others. You have the right to an attorney, provided by the state, if you do not have an attorney of your own. Your decision to speak now has no bearing on your right to an attorney or to silence at any future moment. However, a later decision to engage an attorney or silence is not retroactive. We can and will use any information you provide prior to that point. Please sign this if you understand your rights and still wish to make a statement,” she told Jim, handing him a pad with a form that reiterated what she’d just said.

Jim scanned it to be sure there wasn’t anything else in what he was signing and then signed it and returned it.

“Go ahead,” Officer Carter told him.

“When my mother passed away, and I was orphaned, my step-father became my custodial parent. I freely admit we never had a good relationship, because I wasn’t willing to let anyone try to replace my father, with me or my mother, and because I just didn’t like him—had a bad feeling from the first time I laid eyes on him. At first, he just had me doing work around his truck farm. I told myself it wasn’t any different than any other farm kid. And maybe it wasn’t until the other farmhands started quitting. I don’t know if it was because he didn’t pay well or if he was just mean. It wasn’t any of my concern how he ran his business and it wasn’t like he’d tell me if I asked, so curiosity was a waste of energy.

“I got saddled with the excess, and, when I couldn’t keep up, especially when school was in session, it was always my fault. He’d…uh, he’d hit me, for little things. For the bigger things he’d drag me out to the barn and use the bullwhip,” Jim said swallowing thickly as he turned in the chair enough to lift his shirt up a couple inches to expose part of one of the scars.

“I’m not looking for pity, really. I just say all this to explain why I didn’t say no later, even though I knew it was wrong, criminal, you know?”

Trixie bit her lip to keep herself from interrupting to reassure him how anyone would know from even that couple of inches of skin Jim had showed that he’d had no choice in anything that came after that.

“We’ll need to document any evidence of the abuse, especially if we need to back up a claim of mitigating circumstances to the D.A.’s office.”

“Now?” Jim asked reluctantly. That wasn’t something he needed Trixie to be part of.

“No, it can wait, and it’s better done down at the station, or the hospital. Go ahead with your story, if you can.”

Jim took a couple of sips of water, gathering his thoughts. “I knew Jonesy—my step-father—went into town most nights to drink. For a while, I thought that was all. It took me a couple years to realize he was also gambling. Poker, I think, but could’ve been dice or there was a big to-do in that stretch about police breaking up animal fighting. He never took me with him if he was leaving the farm. After Mama’s funeral the only time I was away from home was for school.

“I was so excited when I got the scholarship. I thought I was going to have to give up college, because I couldn’t take a job and the farm work. I couldn’t keep up with the farm work as it was. And I knew Jonesy wasn’t going to put a dime toward his ‘idjit step-kid partying it up at some fancy pants school’. We fought. He thought I was lying, didn’t think I was smart enough, or a hard enough worker, to earn a scholarship. I had never once lied to him, not ever. It was a point of pride, so I was pretty livid.

“And then two days later, he pulls this total 180. He starts in about how, if I’m going off, he’ll have to hire someone to do my work around the farm, and that don’t come free, so I’ll owe him for that, on top of the debt I already have – he tracks every penny he spends on me – always has – food, school supplies, clothes, et cetera. So that all made sense, that the loss of my free labor was somehow on me to pay him back for, as well as all the other normal custodial guardian things. But, he assured me, he had a job all lined up for me, with a … I don’t know, the implication was a drinking buddy… of his. Jonesy promised the job was on campus, wouldn’t take much of my time – since a kid as dim as me would need all the time I could get to study so that I didn’t flunk out – but in four years, I’d make enough to pay Jonesy back for everything he’d spent on me, plus pay for the farm help, plus clear his debts.”

“Did you know what he meant by that? ‘His debts’?” Officer Carter inquired.

“As I said before, I knew he was gambling by then. He didn’t outright say that those were the debts I was to clear with this ‘job’, but that was the conclusion I drew.”

Trixie knew from shadowing at the station that Jonesy did indeed have gambling debts to Al Finlay that were being paid off by the drug running. While she’d been eating lunch with Jim all last semester, the investigation at the police station had continued, with Dan’s information, and given what Jim had shared so far, it was all starting to fit together. The farmhand out at Jonesy’s farm was suspected of being part of the drug running operation. He’d probably been part of the arrangement: I’ll take your kid in the city if you take my man on the farm. Trixie wondered if they were using the farm to store some of the product.

“I didn’t find out until I got here for freshman year that the job was selling drugs on campus. I tried to protest that I couldn’t, that it was illegal. Al didn’t care. Said Jonesy has promised him I’d do what needed doing or he’d know why, said the only way I could skip out was if Jones had the money he owed. I even called Jonesy that night. I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I wanted to believe he hadn’t agreed to this. He just asked if he needed to come all the way into the city to remind me of my place. I very quickly assured him I did not need that. The one time I ran away and he caught me, he’d only had to go about ten miles and he still beat me and then tied me to the bed for three days. I didn’t want to even think about what he’d do to me if I made him go 300 hundred miles roundtrip. And… I’d been holding on to college as my fresh start, my chance to get away from Jones, for so long that I didn’t want him to come make a scene in front of everyone before I could even begin to make friends. Though that turned out to be a bust, until Trixie came along, because I… well, like I said, I don’t lie. The guilt’s been heavy enough to make it hard to let anyone get close.”

“You were under sixteen when the abuse started?” Officer Carter confirmed.

Jim nodded.

“Assuming everything you’ve said matches the evidence, and we’re able to bring charges against Jones and Finlay, at minimum, the D.A. will almost certainly go for mitigating circumstances. I can’t make promises, but I’d expect a decent lawyer could get you no jail time.”

Jim shook his head. “I know what I did was wrong. I’ll take the consequences.”

“Jim, at every level of criminal code, there’s levels of culpability. Short version, there’s a huge difference between ‘I did it’ and ‘I wanted to do it’, and punishment needs to fit the crime, which means the punishment reflects that difference, too. That’s not pity, or ‘getting away with it’, it’s justice,” Trixie told him.

“She’s right,” Officer Carter told him. “Anyway. Tell me more about this drug dealing arrangement. You sell to other students on campus and the cash goes to Al Finlay? Just a cut, or the whole? Do you know others involved in the operation? Details of the wider operation?”

“I don’t know a lot. I didn’t want to, and Al knew it, probably never trusted my loyalty to him or his operation.”

“Well, given you’re sitting across from a police officer voluntarily, his distrust of your loyalty doesn’t seem misplaced.”

“Hey! He’s trying to help you!” Trixie protested.

“It’s okay, Trix,” Jim tried to soothe her. He turned his attention back to Officer Carter and began to share everything he knew, everything he could remember about Al and Jonesy’s involvement and other people he’d seen when delivering his money to Al or picking up product.

“Are you okay?” Trixie asked softly. Jim had put his head in his hands once Officer Carter was finished with him, and hadn’t moved while Trixie showed her out.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jim replied, rubbing his face before sitting up. “It’s the first time I’ve told anyone about it. The drugs or the, the abuse. I mean, I know I said things were bad before Thanksgiving, but I’ve never named it before, never said the word or applied it to myself.”

“I’m so sorry you went through all that, and felt like you had to get through it alone.”

“It is what it is. And, look, obviously this isn’t what you thought you were getting into when you asked to sit with me at lunch that day. I’ll understand if you don’t want anything more to do with me.”

“Are you crazy? Of course I’ll be here with you. I… I’m not going to say it, even though I’m thinking it, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone ever before. I want to be with you, Jim. Nothing that came out tonight changes that. It’d be different if I found out about it and you wanted to keep doing this. I would absolutely give a ‘me or the drugs’ ultimatum. I am giving that ultimatum.”

“Absolutely,” Jim promised. “I want no part of it. It’s just something I do to keep Jonesy from doing worse to me than he already has.”

“Good. I’ll call Matt—Mr. Wheeler—in the morning, see if he can help get you a lawyer. You need one the rest of the way. I think he’d do it for me, just because I asked. I also think he’d do it for you, just because you need it. Seems like he and your parents were close once.”

“Story of my life. Everyone was close to my family once.”

Trixie shrugged. “I don’t know the stories, obviously, but the point here is that Matt will help. And once this case winds through to prosecution and sentencing, you’ll be free of the monster and the gang. But, first, I have a confession of my own.”

“Okay, what?” Jim asked.

“As one of the taller redheads on campus, and not terrible looking, either,” Trixie teased, “I knew you on sight last year. At the start of last semester, some of the officers and detectives at the precinct where I’m shadowing asked if I knew you. When I said that I didn’t, really, they asked if I could make friends with you. They didn’t think you were involved, just thought you might know what Jones and Finlay were up to,” she assured him quickly.

Jim’s mouth hung open for a moment before he managed to get any words out. “Was any of it real?”

“Jim, almost all of it, I swear. Yes, I asked to sit with you that day because the officers asked me to. But I genuinely enjoyed it, and have every lunch and date and time spent together since. Did I already know some of what you shared tonight from hearing about the investigation? Yes, but honestly, not most of it. The investigation into Finlay has a lot of other sources, and when it was clear you weren’t going to be a quick source of information, they moved on. Jim, the case had moved on from you, but I haven’t.”

Jim shook his head. “I… I think I need time to process this,” he said at last.

Trixie was disappointed, but she understood. “Take all the time you need. Call me when you’re ready. I’ll still call Matt and see what he can do about getting you a lawyer for all this.”

“Thanks,” Jim said, almost automatically as he got to his feet, scanning the room to make sure he had all of his things before he left.

“How’d it go last night?” Dan asked her the next morning as they waited for the one class they had together to start.

Trixie shrugged. “Probably as well as it could. He’s a bit more involved than they’d expected originally. On the one hand, it means he knew more than anticipated about Jones and Finlay’s operations.”

“On the other hand, you have feelings for him and he’s more involved than you thought.”

“Not by choice,” Trixie clarified. “Even less so than you were, way back when.” Trixie sighed. “I told him about my part in it all.”

“Oof. How’d he take it?”

Trixie shrugged. “He asked for space to process it. Not thrilled, you know? But not ‘I never want to talk to you again’, either.”

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you that he comes around.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

Trixie was awake, but hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, opting instead to spend her Saturday morning reading some of her textbooks in bed. Her phone buzzed as a text came in.

Do you want to go skating this afternoon, around 2?

Trixie smiled. They hadn’t spoken or had lunch together since speaking with Officer Carter.

Absolutely, she replied. I’m glad we can still be friends.

She watched the dots come on to indicate he was replying and then her phone started to ring.

“Morning, Jim,” she answered it pleasantly.

“Hi, good morning. I, um. I want to be more than friends. If you still want that, too. Like I said, I needed space, and you gave it to me, and I appreciate that. I get you didn’t know me from Adam when they asked you to make nice. You said it was real for you. Is that true? Do you still want to kiss me again, and go out to dinner, and be my special girl?”

“It’s all true, Jim. I do want to see where our relationship goes, now that we don’t have secrets to keep from each other.”

“Me, too. Listen, I have to get some homework done, but I’ll see you at 2?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Trixie assured him.

“You ready to go up to Manor House?” Jim asked Trixie after brunch Sunday morning. They’d told Honey, Dan, and Brian about the baby on Friday, and Trixie’s parents on Saturday. Her mother had taken it well; Jim was fairly certain her father hated him at this point. As if Jim hadn’t had enough to fret about all weekend, Matthew Wheeler had called him just as he was getting ready to go to dinner with Trixie, Honey, Brian, and Dan. He’d wanted to talk about something, which Jim hadn’t had time for. He’d said it wasn’t about the case against Jim’s step-father, but was important enough that it should really be handled before graduation, so Jim had told him that Trixie was heading up to Crabapple Farm and had asked him along, and so he would try to connect with Mr. Wheeler over the weekend.

“Yeah, let’s do it. Any idea what Matt wants, if it’s not about the case?”

“Not a clue,” Jim said, lacing his fingers through Trixie’s as they walked up the hill.

Celia, the Wheelers’ maid, showed them into Matt’s study, where Matt and another man were waiting.

Trixie smiled pleasantly. “Mr. Rainsford, isn’t it?”

“That’s me,” the older man agreed. “And you’re the Beldens’ girl.”

“Trixie. And this is Jim Frayne.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Before Trixie could pursue any line of thought about that comment, Matt spoke. “Have a seat, both of you.”

“Jim,” Mr. Rainsford began when they were all settled, “I’m not sure how much you know about your namesake.”

“My father’s uncle, James Frayne, and his wife Nell lived out here in Westchester County somewhere. She died of a copperhead bite when I was young. He passed several years later. I think I’d have been about fifteen?”

“That’s right.”

“My father was very close to them earlier in his life, but they’d grown apart, estranged really, after Nell died.”

“I don’t know how estranged it was, and how much it was that James became very reclusive after his wife’s passing,” Mr. Rainsford said. “I was James’ lawyer, and, I believe, a close friend to both James and Nell Frayne while they were alive. When you were born, your aunt and uncle started a trust, and updated their wills to indicate that anything that survived them both should be folded into that trust.”

“Why is this just coming out now?” Trixie asked, curiously. “Mr. Frayne died seven years ago. If he left an inheritance for Jim, shouldn’t he have inherited it then?”

“Typically, Jim, you would at least have been notified. However, the trust specified that funds cannot be released for anything other than educational expenses until your twenty-fifth birthday. I can say with some authority that James and Nell didn’t have a lot of confidence in the financial prudence of teenagers and young adults. They wanted to make sure their gift would go to someone mature enough to value and not squander it. I did – as is my duty as the executor of the Frayne estate – track you down seven years ago. Your living situation did not seem ideal, and I was concerned about your guardian misappropriating the funds, if he became aware of them.”

“Jonesy? Yeah, he’d have found a way to get hands on any money he thought I had.”

“You knew about the abuse?” Trixie demanded. “Why didn’t you do something?”

“I had no proof. I suspected. The neighbors wouldn’t confirm it. My intuition was that they were scared of Mr. Jones, or of retaliation against Jim. I reported my suspicions to the local precinct, but they confirmed my fear that there was nothing actionable in my suspicions, so I did the one thing I legally could do, and kept the trust away from Mr. Jones. I was recently informed, however, that Mr. Jones is facing criminal charges under drug trafficking, human trafficking, child abuse, and assault statutes, and that you are among those testifying against him. As such, I thought it might be beneficial for you to know your future isn’t as bleak as it might have seemed. While the trust can’t be used for anything but education until you turn twenty-five, there are some assets of the estate which I can turn over immediately, and might help you get your feet under you.

“The first is the property of Ten Acres. While your great-uncle and great-aunt’s home burned to the ground around the time James passed away, and the outer buildings were in such disrepair that they were also leveled, the property is—as you might imagine—a full ten acres in size, and property in this area runs a little over a thousand dollars an acre, should you choose to sell some or all of it. I can tell you straight off, Matthew Wheeler, here, who owns most of the surrounding land and maintains it as a game preserve, has been keeping an eye on the property for me these past seven years and would likely give you more than a fair price. The last time a large tract of land in this area came up for sale, there was a bidding war between several companies looking to build warehouses or factories, though the locals were split on whether that was a good thing, so your pursuit of that angle may depend on how you feel about making friends in town.

“The second is the contents of the Fraynes’ safety deposit box, which contains mostly Nell Frayne’s jewelry. James doted on her, so many of the pieces are precious metals and gems. They’ll be worth quite a bit, should you choose to liquidate.”

“Maddie has contacts in the jewelry world, if you need help with that.”

“I’m sure you’ll want to think about it for a few days,” Mr. Rainsford said, handing a business card to Jim. “My offices are right on the metro line from your campus, and the safety deposit contents are in our vault, so whenever you’re ready, give me a call and we’ll set up a meeting and set in motion whatever you’d like to do with those assets.”

“Thank you,” Jim said.

“What did you decide?” Trixie asked almost a week after the trip to Sleepyside, as she and Jim walked through Central Park, celebrating the conclusion of Trixie’s last final. Jim had finished exams two days earlier and had spent the morning at Mr. Rainsford’s office.

“Mr. Wheeler is going to buy nine of the ten acres. I want to build on the remaining acre. I haven’t had a home since my father died, and haven’t had ties to my family since my mother died. That can be your house and the baby’s, too, if you want. Your parents would be close. We haven’t really talked more about how you want this to work. I’ll sell the jewelry. Mr. Rainsford had it appraised earlier in the week and it’s worth a lot. Enough to build the house and give us some breathing room to figure things out with the baby coming. I’m adamant about that, Trixie. Whatever we decide about how we’re going to work out our relationship, I’m taking care of our baby, at least, financially.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, since we talked last week.”

“So have I,” Jim admitted, sliding his hand into his pocket, where he had the one piece of jewelry he’d kept.

“I really do care deeply about you. I love you, Jim. This isn’t at all how I thought this would happen, but it is happening, and I say we go for it.”

They’d reached one of the water features as they meandered through the park. Jim pulled Trixie to a stop and then dropped to one knee. “I’m so glad you think so. A week ago, I told you I didn’t have a ring, or a romantic gesture, or a speech, or anything. This morning, as Mr. Rainsford and I looked through the jewelry, we found my great-aunt’s engagement ring, and the second I saw it, I just knew. I’m still not sure I have a terribly romantic gesture, though I suppose in front of a fountain in Central Park is at least on the right track. I know speeches aren’t my strong suit, but I’m hoping you’ll give me credit for trying. I love you, Trixie, and not just because you were the first person in years who had shown me more than superficial kindness and given even a single damn about me. I want to spend our life together, and would even if there wasn’t a baby. I want you to know that. I might be proposing now because of the baby happening now, but I’m not proposing because of the baby. I really do want to spend the rest of my life with you and our child, so, please, Beatrix Helen Belden, will you marry me?”

Trixie nodded, eyes brimming with tears. “Yes, Jim. Let’s. Oh, let’s get married.”