Chapter Thirty-Four (Part Two)

Melody decided she needed some alone time after the shareholders' meeting to recharge her batteries. She took a jog down to Hunter's Park, to the pond where she and her father had spent their last quiet moments together. Tossing a few loose pebbles into the water, she watched the ripples spread outward and disappear. She thought a lot about Stephen, about what he'd told her before he died...
They had spent all day at Hunter's Park, just the pair of them -- no distractions, no one approaching them, no babies crying, no yelling and nagging, nothing. They'd cast their own lines, hardly looking at each other but feeling each other's presence just the same. "You know, Melody, I don't want to tell your mother this -- I don't want to worry her -- but I've been having heart issues for some time."
"Father!" shouted Melody in disbelief.
"My doctor says that if I avoid stress and follow a healthy regimen I should prolong my life." Stephen then changed the subject. "Listen, sweetheart, about the toy shop -- I know you don't really like toys and toymaking, and I know you've never set foot in the shop. That fact disappoints me, but it's the choice you've made. I still think you'd be a great toymaker, the way you like to take apart things. I had just bought your new computer and I passed by your room and there you were, with a screwdriver in your hands, taking it apart. I had to laugh, I couldn't help myself. It wouldn't be so funny if that Alienware hadn't been special-ordered and it didn't cost 4000 simoleans."
"I've always liked to try to figure out how things worked."
"While I was on the phone with Alienware, I had to explain to them that I'd bought the computer for my daughter and that her curiosity had caused her to take it apart. I know about your fascination with machines. You've been that way since you were little. That's why I wasn't surprised when you asked for the robot crafter."
"I'd seen one and read up on what could be done with them. I decided I wanted to learn how to do that."
Stephen gazed fondly at his daughter. "I know about the situation with the jack-in-the-box and about what happened when our store Inner Child opened. Melody, dear, there's more to making a toy than a piece of wood and a hammer. I'm pretty sure that if you tried it, you'd enjoy it. It even involves painting, and I know you like to do that." Stephen took a deep breath. "I want you to promise me something. In the event of my death, I'd like you to keep Tinker Toys in the Tinker family."
Snapping back to the present time, Melody realized that she had never truly had time to grieve Stephen's passing. No matter what the DNA test results would ultimately reveal, she felt a connection to him. Right then and there, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. The fact that he was now dead had altered the fortunes and priorities of her whole family -- herself included. Her kid sister, Harmony, would never know her father -- the kind, loving, generous man she knew.

The next morning, Melody awoke to the smells of Wanda's fresh-brewed coffee and omelettes. "Hey, sweetheart," Wanda smiled, looking up at her daughter. "I see you've been rummaging through Stephen's things again."
"Yeah, this was one of his shirts. Kinda reminds me of him."
"You know," Wanda said while flipping the omelettes over, "he'd be so proud of you, the way you took over that meeting room yesterday."
"You were there?" Melody asked, somewhat surprised by this revelation. "I thought you'd gone to pick up Harmony."
"Harmony stayed after school for ballet classes, so I stuck around the meeting room."
After a brief pause, Melody stopped Wanda for a second. "Mom -- " she began in a hushed, halting voice, with the sepia-toned Polaroid of a young man with glasses, dreadlocks, and glasses, "who is this?"
Wanda nearly burnt her omelettes. "What? Where did you find that?"
"In the box with daddy's stuff."
"Oh, that's sweet little Billy -- my beloved little brother."
Melody's eyes bulged in disbelief. "Mom! You never told me you had a brother! And he kinda looks like me!" "There's a lot of things I haven't told you, dear. I wanted to wait until you were old enough to know."
"I think I'm old enough to know now."
Wanda managed a chuckle. "Yeah, you sure are, I guess. If you're old enough to positively take over a boardroom with Malcolm Landgraab in it, then you're old enough to hear about your uncle Billy."
After serving breakfast, Wanda proceeded to tell Melody everything about her younger brother, William Zarubin. Of the two of them, William, or 'Billy' was unquestionably their parents' favorite -- and no wonder. He was their shining light, the overachiever, the golden boy. He made straight A's without trying. "Meanwhile, I -- I just struggled," Wanda revealed, "I did everything I could do to try to outdo him, but nothing I did helped. In fact, everything I did made things worse."
Like his niece would do many years later, William -- he hated being called Billy, even though Wanda insisted on it -- got into Academie Le Tour early due to his excellent grades.
"What happened to him?" Melody asked, her curiosity growing with every word Wanda uttered.
"After graduation from ALT Billy got a job as a chemist at Sim City General. His bosses were pushing for a deadline for an antidote to a specific poison, and he rushed it through, testing it on himself -- " Wanda struggled to fight through tears.
"So Uncle Billy was a scientist?"
Wanda took a deep breath. "Yes, he was. The lab was shut down, there was a huge investigation and the whole project was scrapped."
Melody shook her head. Wanda wiped her tears long enough to recognize that the wheels were churning in her oldest daughter's mind. "Do you know what poison they were trying to make an antidote for?"
"Melody!" This was why Wanda worried. This was the source of her sleepless nights, nearly every night, since her daughter left for college. And this was why she was afraid to let her go. She didn't know when the next time she saw her oldest daughter would be her last.

The Tinkers' late-model grey sedan pulled onto the curb beside Aldrich Dorm. "Melody," Wanda called to the tall, lithe girl, "could you give me a hand?"
"Sure, mom," Melody replied obediently as she walked toward the trunk of the car.
Wanda cut an authoritative presence as she carried boxes toward the entrance of the dormitory. She was playing the part of the wealthy widow and playing it well. Other dormies leaned forth to see what was happening. "Is that Melody's mother?" they whispered to each other. "Funny, but they look nothing alike."
Wanda shot them a glance, and their whispering immediately stopped.

Melody kept a low profile -- or at least as low a profile as she could -- as she returned to the campus grind and the routine she so loved. She was back to waking up at the crack of dawn to jog, going to classes, then the library, then the lab, then the observatory. She was glad to know that the reporters who had camped around the dormitory had moved on to some other story, so she could return to something resembling normal student activities. She glided within her air-tight inner circle, trying to maintain the privacy she cherished.
"Stop playing him like a marionette!" warned Jessica, pointing her finger as Melody entered the secret society house.
"What are you talking about?" asked Melody, wondering what she did to get accosted in this manner.
Jessica shook her head. "You know darn well what I'm talking about. There's only so much he can take, and keeping him dangling there isn't helping matters at all." Jessica stood as close as she dared, their noses almost touching and feeling Melody's hot breath on her chin.
"How the heck do you know how Chester feels?" Melody asked in an accusatory tone, feeling the bile rise from her throat.
"I want to know," Jessica said slowly, emphasizing every word that came from her mouth, "do you love him or not?"
"It's none of your business how I feel about him."
"Actually, Melody, you're wrong. It is my business because he's my boyfriend. And because I've seen him look at you in a way he'll never look at me."
Melody was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"He follows you around like a little puppy dog, he takes your orders, bends over backwards, is available at your every beck and call, and does he complain? No! Whenever we're talking, it's always Mel this and Mel that. Do you know how hurtful that is? Especially coming out of the mouth of the man you love? Or do you even care?" Jessica heaved a heavy, deep sigh. "There's no way I can compare to the great and glorious Melody Tinker. I don't have a billion and a half IQ, but what I do have is love and lots of it. I love Chester with all my heart and soul, but I know that he doesn't love me back. There's a piece of him that I cannot take for myself, and that's the piece that loves you."
Tears started flowing down Jessica's face as her voice failed her. Wiping her hand angrily across her wet, flushed cheeks, she turned and ran out of the room, away from the ice princess herself.
Melody was left alone in the darkened room, forced to ponder Jessica's words. She buried her head in her hands, and if one came close, they could hear a couple of loose sobs. What was happening here? Her whole perfect world was crumbling around her ears. A young woman who prided herself on knowing things suddenly didn't know anything at all.

Chapter Thirty-Four (Part One)

At the Goth residence, Dina did the only thing she could do. She dialed Malcolm.
"Malcolm," Dina cried, her voice quavering as she spoke, "Malcolm, I need your help."
Malcolm heaved a deep sigh. "What's happening?"
"My husband passed away tonight."
"I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as I am. His bratty daughter showed up tonight and tossed me and my son out onto the street. She kept railing on and on about how my son isn't a Goth baby --"
"He's not, he's a Landgraab."
"That's not the point! The point is, he was born in this house, he was born as a Goth, and therefore should be entitled to at least a piece of the estate."
"Look, Dina," Malcolm said, turning off his radio, "I'm on my way over there as soon as I can."

A half hour later, Malcolm drove from Bluewater Village over to the Goth mansion in Pleasantview. Dina emerged from the house in the fur coat Checo Ramirez had bought her and met Malcolm outside, planting a passionate kiss on his lips. "I am so glad to see you," she finally whispered, wiping her tears long enough to sound sincere.
After leading Malcolm into the house, Dina got him a glass of Mortimer's perfectly aged wine while she disappeared upstairs. When she returned, her young son, Manuel, with lungs the size of a furnace bellows and a voice that could crack glass, screamed for his favorite toy -- a tattered teddy bear that had belonged to Alexander.
Malcolm looked up in disbelief as Dina, saying nothing and holding a bottle, handed the toddler over to him. "So," he said, looking at the glowing bottle, "what do you want me do then?"
"Feed him," came the curt reply.
"What? With THAT stuff? I don't think so."
"It's fine, he's had no problems with it at all."
"It's glowing green, do you have any idea where that's been?"
"SO? It's not hurting him."
Malcolm shook his head and gazed down at the now, extremely quiet boy, snuggled contentedly in his arms. He stroked the fine blond hair and smiled gently. His heart soared when Manuel beamed a big toothy grin right back.
"We're going to get you some REAL food young man," Malcolm crooned, "Not this potentially radioactive crap she's been feeding you."

"Mom!" Harmony squealed, "look at this letter they passed around in school. I wanna sign up for ballet!"
"Ballet, really?" Wanda smiled as she took the note and read through it. "How nice for you."
Meanwhile, Melody rolled her eyes in obvious disapproval. My god, can she be any more annoying? she thought.
"I'm going to take Harmony to sign up, be back soon-ish," Wanda said as she kissed Melody on her forehead. "Be right back."
Melody walked out to the mailbox to get the mail, and one envelope caught her eye. It was addressed to "the Tinker family" in calligraphy, and sealed with a gold seal with the letters "MLIV."
With hands trembling from rage, Melody carefully pulled the seal open to reveal a beautifully filigreed invitation to the forthcoming nuptials of Mr. Malcolm Charles Landgraab IV and Mrs. Dina Rosalia Goth, nee Caliente.
Melody seethed. After all he'd done to the family, the nerve of him to let drop that he was marrying! She also did a double take when she saw the name Dina Goth. Her husband's grave was not yet cold and already she'd moved on. She'd also known that Dina had also been responsible for the breakup of the Ramirez marriage. In her mind, they were two of a kind. They deserved each other.

The first meeting of the shareholders of Tinker Toys since Stephen's death was held in one of the back employee rooms at Inner Child Toys and Gifts. Wanda had never been to one of these board meetings -- Stephen usually went -- but she decided to come today in support of her daughter. She held Melody's hand tight as they walked in together. "The last time I held your hand, you were starting your first day of school," reminisced Wanda. "You were so shy, you held on to my leg as it was time for me to let you go."
Melody simply smiled serenely, although her nerves were literally rattling her teeth in her skull. She felt a gentle squeeze and looked at her mother, who smiled warmly. "You go get 'em," she whispered, before letting go and giving her daughter a gentle, guiding push. 'I have faith in you,' she continued, "Show 'em what you're made of."
The night before, Wanda had blown-dry Melody's naturally curly hair and roller-set it to look professional. Melody was looking particularly sharp, wearing a black pantsuit with a satiny maroon top, accented with a heart-shaped necklace that belonged to her grandmother.
The grizzled gentlemen sitting around the table waiting for Melody's arrival were astonished to see her. Melody herself could not believe she was in the position she was in. Here she was facing her father's shareholders for the first time. The realization gave her a rush of both dread and excitement.
But then she happened upon -- him. Malcolm Landgraab himself. What was HE doing here? He didn't own any part of Tinker Toys -- did he? Besides, he had his finger in every pie in town, quite literally. Melody knew he had bilked the Jacquets out of their own family bakery. She also knew -- from Chester -- that he had stolen the Giekes' electronics store from underneath them and was working on the former Ramirez furniture store as well.
By this time, though, Melody was seething. But Malcolm was undaunted. "There she is," he said with his slick-sounding voice, his words slipping like oil off his tongue as he walked towards her, pretending to 'present' her to the men. "Your president and CEO. Would you really want a sexual deviant representing you, dear shareholders?"
Melody hoisted her shoulders up and strode boldly to the center of the boardroom, where she felt several pairs of eyes scrutinizing everything about her. Turning sharply towards Malcolm, she pulled herself up to her full magnificent height and stared him straight in the face.
Their eyes locked, and had it not been for the bad atmosphere between them, you could have sworn that the air in that room crackled with sexual tension.
This was the first time Malcolm had laid eyes on Melody in all her glory, and it took all his power not to grab her and draw her gasping into his arms, right there and then. Such was the force between them.
He'd never laid eyes on such a magnetic person such as Melody Tinker. She had that 'don't look, don't touch' quality about her and it drove him wild. Malcolm had been hypnotized in a way he'd never been hypnotized before -- not even by Dina.
As a sign of bravado and sheer recklessness, Melody, tired of Malcolm's ridiculous heckling, stood up and glared at him. This time he'd pushed too far and he knew it. "I could take you on myself," she shouted, slamming her fist on the table, "if you didn't spend all your time holed up in your office in your mansion, counting your money!"
He grinned malevolently, watching every muscle twitch in her face. "Sell me your part of Tinker Toys and I'll leave you and your family alone."
"Never!" spat back Melody, expecting this move, "not even if you and I were the last two Sims on earth. Besides, I have something here that may be of interest to our shareholders."
Malcolm went slightly pale. His grin vanished. "You're bluffing," he whispered, sitting down hard. Melody just smiled knowingly and reached into her briefcase.
She brought out a sheaf of papers, and distributed them all around. Malcolm picked one up and leapt to his feet. "How did you get hold of this?" he spluttered, his hands shaking badly and his composure rattled briefly.
"The same way you got information about my father's company,' she replied, a hint of victory in her voice, 'and all the other companies you've managed to acquire -- legally and/or illegally."
A balding gentleman peered through his spectacles at the sheet of paper in front of him. Perusing it carefully, he sat forward and folded his hands on the table. "Is this true, Mr Landgraab?" he asked, his dulcet tenor voice rumbling in the eerie silence of the board room.
For once, Malcolm was at a complete loss for words, and remained seated, glancing nervously around the room.
"Gentlemen," the old man continued, "it appears that Landgraab Enterprises is on the verge of collapse."
Melody continued. "The massive amounts of money and resources Landgraab Enterprises has committed to acquiring Tinker Toys, J'Adore Bakery, the Electronics Superstore, and other businesses in and around Sim City has depleted its capital to the point where its very solvency remains in question."
"Also," she continued, "it appears that his fledgling nightclub, Club Dante, has posted the biggest losses of all."
She turned back towards Malcolm and riveted him to the spot with a withering glare.
"Does that sound like a conglomerate you'd trust to take over a successful company like Tinker Toys? A company my grandfather, Ron Tinker, built from the ground up?"
She paused, taking a sip of water before continuing. "The figures from the last three fiscal terms show revenue declining at an alarming rate each year. In the last fiscal term, which ended about two weeks ago, Landgraab Enterprises' losses amounted to about one billion simoleans. In addition, the costs of his own extravagant wedding --"
Finally, Malcolm had had enough. "Stop!" he screamed. "Don't you dare bring my wedding into this! That expense did not come from company coffers."
"Oh really, Malcolm?" asked Melody. "You are such a simpleton. What about your wedding plans? You paid the caterer, the limousine driver, the travel agency? What about that? Or are you going to say that wasn't your expenditure either? Because the records show that clearly --"
"Tell me how you got hold of my financial records."
Melody grinned. "They ain't top secret, you know. They're readily available through the SCSE -- Sim City Stock Exchange. All I had to do was go to their website."
Then she wrapped her presentation with a final statement. "So, dear shareholders, I move to reject Malcolm Landgraab's takeover bid of Tinker Toys, on the grounds of Landgraab Enterprises' financial insolvency. All in favor signify by 'I.'"
One by one, the shareholders rose their hands. Melody pumped both fists in silent victory. Tinker Toys was hers. Finally hers.

Chapter Thirty-Three (Part One)

Melody was in the kitchen, helping her mother clean up after the guests left. "What kind of books were they this time?" Wanda teased playfully.
Melody shrugged. "Children's stories," she replied.
"I'm trying to remember when YOU actually read kids' books." Wanda laughed. "It seemed like, by the time you started kindergarten you were in the adult stacks. You curled up with dictionaries and encyclopedias, not kids' books."
Just then Harmony, with two puffed ponytails, gaily skipped into the living room, wearing a pastel yellow and pink dress. She was anxious to start school for the first time. Melody stole a glance at her and couldn't believe it. Who was this stranger and what had happened to her cute little kid sister?
"Melody, sweetheart, I'm going to take Harmony to school and meet her teachers. Be back soon." Wanda leaned over and gave Melody a kiss before taking Harmony out.
Melody could hardly believe what her mother was saying. Her kid sister was starting school. The baby that needed so much was now an able-bodied schoolgirl who could mostly care for herself.
Harmony grabbed Wanda's hand, and the pair of them disappeared out the front door.
Meanwhile, Melody suddenly felt lightheaded and dizzy, so she took a nap on the living room sofa. When she woke up, though, she thought she saw Stephen, white robes and all, in all his glory, standing in front of her.
Melody rubbed her eyes. It was a comforting sight, seeing him standing there. But then she thought about it. It couldn't be, right? Her eyes were playing tricks with her. But she looked again and the apparition was still standing there.
"Daddy?" she called, searching around, waiting for someone to answer. But all she heard was an echo of her own voice. Thinking she was losing her mind, she burst into tears.

A few moments later, Melody decided to take her first official steps out into Bluewater -- the first since her infamous outburst at the Christmas party. Was she nervous? Hell yes. She didn't know what to expect........... who she'd bump into...or what kind of reception she'd get. But her feet took her along a well trodden, familiar route.....
...... straight to J'Adore Bakery, where the delicious aroma of sweet pastries brought back memories and made her mouth water. They were happy times indeed. Swallowing hard, she decided to give the bakery a miss. After all, she DID publicly humiliate Gilbert.....
... even though he DID deserve it.
Dropping her head down, she walked away, so deep in thought that she never heard the sound of hasty footfall speedily approaching
"Melody?" a soft, breathless voice called out.
The accent was all too familiar, a husky, unmistakable French undertone.
It could be all too easy to walk on and ignore it but her instincts told her to stop.
She halted, turning around and coming face to face with Denise Jacquet.
The years had been hard on this woman, but there was no mistaking the gentleness and laughter that still remained in her eyes.
Hesitantly, Denise touched Melody's upper arm, the creases in her already lined face deepening slightly with an uncertain smile.
"Melody?" she asked, finally catching her breath, "is that you?.... Oh my..... how you've grown."
Yes, it was an inane observation, but Denise hoped that it would be enough to break the uneasy tension between them
Denise stepped back. Before her was a tall young woman, a far cry from the small girl who followed her around in the bakery.
"Please, have a seat," she said. "I've got some teas going and your favorite blueberry pie in the oven."
Melody took a deep breath as she sat in Denise's spacious living room. It was just as she'd remembered it, cozy and warm, forever with the scent of something cooking.
"You used to love blueberry pie. You came every day after school and on Saturdays too."
Denise returned from the kitchen with a slice of blueberry pie and a ceramic pitcher, filled with the scent of flavorful lemon tea.
"I remember this," Melody said, unable to suppress a grin. "Your pies were the best."
Melody was surprised at this hospitality. But there again, she'd always known how hospitable Mrs Jacquet was. Freshly baked pies and cakes at the ready and a softly cushioned chair - Melody's favorite by far - to snuggle into as she listened to Mrs Jacquet's culinary stories --
how, at her first lessson in cookery school, she'd had a sneezing session from using too much flour and almost set the classroom oven alight.
Melody broke the ice by telling her own story, about how she'd tried -- and failed miserably -- to bake a pie for Hanover's fall festival.
She remembered that growing up in Bluewater Village wasn't all bad. No matter how she tried, she just couldn't tear herself completely away from this place -- it was home.
Denise took her seat right next to Melody. "How's school?" she asked. "I hear you got into Academie Le Tour on scholarship. I always knew you had a good head on your shoulders."
Melody took a deep breath. She dreaded this question and dreaded its answer too. "Um, well, I'm taking some time off."
"Really, sweetheart? Why?"
Melody hesitated before answering. "Well, um, you know last fall my dad died, and my mom has been running the shop by herself all this time --"
"She's suffered so much since he's been gone," Denise noted. "They truly were soulmates. Reminded me of me and my dear sweet Yves."
Nodding in agreement, Melody took a sip of her tea. "This is delicious, you really put your foot into it!" exclaimed Melody.
"Well, I had to do something special for my favorite customer."
Melody couldn't suppress a grin. "Nothing's changed after all these years," she mused.
"Well, some things have changed," Denise replied. "In fact, a lot of things have changed. Last Christmas, at the party --"
Melody dreaded this. She didn't want to hear about what happened. She had said her piece and she was done with it.
"I know about what happened last Christmas. And I understand. You were frustrated and upset. I couldn't say anything then, everyone was just so dumbfounded by what happened -- I mean, you hadn't uttered a syllable in ages and now suddenly you just lashed out at everybody." Denise shook her head and let out a heavy sigh. "Well, you know, since the party, Gilbert's completely changed his life around. He got a job at an art gallery and he's engaged."
Melody stopped herself. "Um, really?" she asked. "Wow, when did this happen?"
"Last month, to his girlfriend, Sandy Miller. They've moved to an apartment downtown, so now it's just me."
Melody nodded. "I see."
"Oh, and the bakery --"
Leaping forward, Melody asked, "What about the bakery?"
"Malcolm Landgraab tried to buy it from Gilbert."
"It always boils down to HIM, doesn't it?" The words felt like bile in her throat, angry and festering. But they didn't begin to explain the disdain she felt for him.
"I know how much you don't like him, dear. I'm indifferent toward him myself. But Gilbert is actually friends with him."
Melody tried hard to suppress tears. "You can't let him sell the bakery, Mrs. Jacquet! You just can't!"
"I'm getting old, dear," Denise said, "and Gilbert is starting his new life. He's decided to follow a different life path. I did some thinking and I realized that you're right about me holding on to him. I'm not going to hold him back any longer."
Melody couldn't help but shed tears herself. "This can't be happening!" she screamed. "You sound like you've given up!"
"Life is too short for petty squabbles, dear, you'll learn that when you're older." Denise forced a wan smile. "I know I don't have much time before the Reaper comes for me. All I want to do is live out the remainder of my life as peacefully as possible."

Out the corner of her eye, Wanda spied a striking brunette woman in a low-cut red dress, walking toward the backyard workshop. She knew, from previous experience, that she was Elise Livingston, who wrote the consumer column for the Times, and that she was a spy for Malcolm Landgraab. She didn't want Melody to have to deal with her this soon after returning, so she went back to see what Elise wanted.
When Wanda got there, she found Elise had started scribbling some information. When she tried to find out what she was writing, Elise turned her back to hide her note pad. Malcolm sent her back here, she thought.
"Elise Livingston?" asked Wanda, eyeing her cautiously.
"You must be Mrs. Tinker," Elise replied with her sugary smile as she extended her hand. "How do you do?"
Elise proceeded to walk around the workshop as Wanda watched. "I must say, Mrs. Tinker, you've done a commendable job with the shop since your husband's passing. The operation is streamlined like a well-oiled machine."
"Well, I kinda can't take the credit," Wanda admitted, "the multiple employees working was my daughter's idea."
"Your daughter?" asked Elise.
"Yes, my oldest daughter, she's at ALT."
Closing her notepad, Elise picked up a fire truck and examined it. "These fire trucks are exceptionally well made."
"Thanks, well, we don't consider Tinker Toys a business or a company -- for us, it's a labor of love." For the cynical, Wanda's statement could have easily been taken as rehearsed or a public relations stunt, but in her case she really meant it.

Harmony skipped gaily into the front door, carrying a notebook in hand and having brought a friend home. Arms folded, she stared at her older sister sitting off to herself in a corner. "What's the matter with you?" Harmony asked.
Melody, meanwhile, had contented herself with a stack of papers she had found in Stephen's file cabinet. "Mom?" she asked Wanda while she was in the kitchen preparing a feast. "Did you know Dad was writing children's stories?"
Wanda looked up from her chopping board. "Children's stories?"
"Yeah, I found this stack of papers in his file cabinet. They were supposed to be a collection of children's stories."
"Really? May I see them?"
"Sure, mom, when I'm done."
What's this business about children's stories? Wanda muttered to herself as she returned to chopping onions for the afternoon meal. It occurred to Wanda that even though she knew her husband well, there was a lot about him that she didn't know.

The death of Mortimer Goth, the lion of Pleasantview, came as a surprise to no one. After all, he'd been ill for awhile and had come to an advanced age. And to no one's surprise, he accepted his fate with grace and aplomb.

His widow, Dina, cried buckets of tears in her son's bedroom.

"Just look at him!" hissed a very pregnant Cassandra at the Goth mansion, pointing her bony finger at the blond haired, grey eyed child, "THAT'S no Goth child."

Little Manuel, Dina's son, flailed his arms in the air in obvious distress.
"Mama!" he wailed, a distinct aroma emanating from his diaper.
Dina ignored him, standing face to face with her step daughter.
"You can keep your nose out of my business young lady," she snarled through clenched teeth, "I got what your father wanted.... a son."
"Young lady?" Cassandra scoffed, "who are you to call ME young lady? I'm not an errant teenager any more. And for your information, we're practically the same age......"
"Besides..." she pursed her lips and looked down at the distressed child, ".... aren't you going to change his diaper?"
Dina grumbled under her breath, pulling disgusted faces as she bent down to scoop Manuel up into her arms.
"I was hoping the nanny would have intervened by now," she said, partly to herself, "it's her job NOT mine."
She coughed and spluttered as she dusted Manuel a little too heavily with baby powder, some of it getting onto her expensive silk top. Her perfectly manicured nails shredded through the first diaper as she struggled to make it fit.
Cassandra stood watching her, amused at the performance.
This was a golden opportunity, she had Dina where she wanted her, and it was too good to miss.
"Oh," she began nonchalantly, "as we're on the topic...."
Dina was too preoccupied with a struggling, squalling Manuel to pick up on Cassandra's trap.
"Who is the father?"

Dina shot Cassandra a look that could melt steel. "None of your damned business!"

"It's not Father, is it?"

"Like I said, it's none of your business. Now leave me the hell alone!"

Cassandra straightened up. "Get out!" she shouted with all the authority she could muster.

Dina grimaced in disbelief. "What?" she asked.

"You heard me. I said get out. Take your kid and get out of my father's house before I get the cops to escort you out."

"What am I going to do about the furniture?"

"We'll figure it out. But right now, get your stuff and get out! NOW!"

Chapter Thirty-Two (Part Two)

Chester returned from his final exam the next day, and did a quick check of his computer. He decided he wanted to trace the origin of the Latin messages that Melody had translated on his computer, so he did a quick run of his message tracer software. "1 Tesla Court, Strangetown," he said in disbelief. "This isn't good at all. How on earth did they manage to find me?"
He knew there was no way he could return there, and this lent more urgency to his campaign to graduate from ALT. He had to leave as soon as he could, for his own safety.
And he had to let Melody know just where those messages had come from. Since her number was on speed dial on his cell phone, all he had to do was press one button to reach her. And now that they were BFFs, she was going to answer his call regardless of the time of day or night.
Melody was furiously scribbling notes in her diary when the phone rang. Ever since that incident when she'd caught Marla reading it, she kept it under lock and key, in a chest in her bedroom, and wrote in it whenever she had a private moment -- which were few and far between these days.
"Hello?" she droned in her cell phone receiver.
"It's me, Chester. I found out where those messages were coming from."
As Chester proceeded to tell her, Melody's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you sure it was you they were looking for?"
"Why else would they attack my computer? And in Latin, no less."
"Ches, I'm not so sure it was an attack."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the messages themselves, about an obstruction in the front and a pack of wolves behind -- and the other one about people plotting against him -- seems like someone's in some kind of trouble."
"Who?"
"I'm not sure. You've only told me bits and pieces of what went on in Strangetown when you were a teenager. Perhaps it's the person you say the Beakers are holding hostage."
"But why would he reach out to me? I don't know him from Adam."
"The world wide web is a big place. It's how we met, isn't it?"
Chester managed a chuckle. "I suppose you're right," he said. "Still, why would he pick me? How would he get my ISP and IP protocol?"
"Who knows?" Melody replied. "There has to be some reason he wants to get in touch with you, and he chose the only way he knew how."


A media crush like Academie Le Tour had never seen before had enveloped the campus. People crowded around the cordoned off greenhouse to marvel at the 'strange new plant' sitting there. Television news cameras and reporters surrounded Aldrich dormitory twenty-four hours a day, shoving microphones into the faces of the students who lived there. In the midst of the circus, however, Chester and Melody stayed tight-lipped, only issuing blanket statements whenever they were asked questions.
Among the reporters was a particularly persistent woman who appeared to be of Indian ancestry. Melody had never seen her before and was so fascinated by her dark blue sari that she leaned forth to read her name tag, which read 'Priya Ramaswami.' Melody watched Priya walk around the dormitory, taking notes here and there.
It was the third day of the reporters' siege upon Aldrich Hall, and the atmosphere had become more stultifying than ever. Finally, Marla had had enough. "Mel," she said gently, "we need to talk."
Melody's smile was frozen like a grimace on her face. Her hand stung like crazy and she could feel her nerves still tingling beneath the skin.
"We've seen all the scars and lacerations, Mel." Edwin took Melody's hand gently, and pulled up her sleeve. A livid red bite mark shone from her rapidly swelling fingers. "We can't keep pretending any more."
"How did you know?" Melody asked, her lip trembling in unison to her entire body.
Edwin shot a glance at Marla and cleared his throat. "I was trying to catch some bugs for my pin board," he explained, blushing deep crimson, "I just happened to walk past that greenhouse, and....and..."
Marla gestured encouragement.
"It lashed out at me."
"What?!??" Melody was astounded. She was the only one with a key. "How did you get in?"
"I didn't. It slammed itself against the glass. It looked hungry and scared the pants off me."
"Are you serious?"
"C'mon, Mel. Would I lie to you?"
"I can't believe you people!" shouted Melody in disbelief. "First Chester, now you guys. Don't you get it?"
"We get it, Mel," Marla said. "We definitely get it. And we're worried."
Melody shrugged. "Worried? About what?"
"We're worried for you, Mel. We know after your classes you retreat to your laboratory and spend long hours down there."
"I enjoy it, it's what I enjoy doing. It's fun for me."
"That's the problem, Mel. You're enjoying it too much. You don't eat, you don't sleep, all you do is go to class and then go downstairs to the basement."
"Why are you so concerned?" snapped Melody.
"You're going to pass out from exhaustion. Look at you, you're pencil thin --"
Melody laughed. "I've always been thin, this isn't new."
"No, you're even thinner than usual," reminded Edwin. "This is serious, Mel. We're really worried about you."
Melody shrugged both of them off. "It's nothing I'm not used to. Besides, I think I might be on the verge of a breakthrough."


The Burbs, newly arrived to Bluewater from downtown, had no idea they were being pulled in different directions as a result of the titanic struggle of Malcolm Landgraab versus the Tinker family. Or that they were unwittingly taking sides in the matter. Jennifer, by working at Lawson & Lawson, was siding with Malcolm -- and then there was John. He saw a want ad put out by the Tinkers and decided to act.
After seeing Lucy off to school, John walked across the street to Wanda Tinker's porch and rang her doorbell. Wanda was in the middle of cleaning Harmony off when it rang, and looked somewhat bewildered. "May I help you, sir?" she asked in her politest voice.
"Yes," John began, "I've come in response to your ad."
"What ad?" Wanda asked absentmindedly as Harmony tugged at her hair.
"The one you put out in the paper asking for help."
"Oh yes, that," replied Wanda, as if she'd suddenly remembered. "Please, do, come in."
John was taken by Wanda's charming, graceful manner as he followed her into the living room. "I remember when mine was that small," he said wistfully as he reached over to tickle Harmony. "How fast they grow."
"Tell me about it," Wanda replied. "Her transition is coming up soon."
"Good," John says, "she should be going to school with my daughter. They could become great friends."
"I have another daughter in college," added Wanda.
John was surprised. "Really?" He was surprised Wanda was actually old enough to have a daughter in college.
Wanda ushered John to the backyard, where the register and the toy bench were, along with some half-empty shelves. "Ever since my husband died and Melody went back to school, we've been having some issues keeping toys in stock."
"I don't mind making toys," John said. "Gives me something to do with my time while my wife is at work and Lucy is at school."
"Good. Do you know how to make a toy brick?"
John laughed. "Um, I can try. They probably won't be the best."
"They don't need to be, it's a start. After I'm done cleaning up Harmony, I'm coming down. My employees should be here any second now."

Meanwhile, Melody walked to her bedroom and decided to check her messages. She played her mother's recording over and over in her mind. Ordinarily she wouldn't consider a trip back to Bluewater, but perhaps, she thought, a trip home was just what she needed.
Wanda approached Lisa in the checkout line of Amelia's Closet. Lisa was still in her hospital scrubs from working the night shift at Sim City General. She looked worn and haggard. Extending her arms wide, Wanda smiled, "How are you doing?"
Lisa reluctantly walked toward them and leaned her head on Wanda's shoulder. "I didn't think the divorce was going to be this hard," she sighed, "and Tessa is really struggling. There are only so many ways you can say 'Daddy's not coming home' without getting teary-eyed. She and he used to do everything together."
Wanda nodded. "Melody won't tell me, but she's suffering without Stephen too. I could see it in her eyes. Harmony, poor dear, it's almost a blessing that she's too young to understand what happened." Wanda took a deep breath. "The past few months have been hard -- on both of us. And I think it's strained our friendship."
Nodding agreement, Lisa walked up to the counter and put her purchases up so the young cashier could ring them up.
"But, I think it's time for a new beginning. Life is too short for grudges anyway. Hey, Harmony's transition party is coming up, you want to come?"
Lisa shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, Tessa's busy with her lemonade stand and with school and with her friends --"
"I know it's not going to be easy, but think about it. Okay? You have my number if you decide." With that Wanda left.
As much as Lisa wanted to hate Wanda, she couldn't help feeling that familiar warmth radiating from this woman.
If she hadn't spread all those malicious rumors around.
If she'd kept her mouth shut when Wanda spilled her fears about Melody.
If she'd only been more understanding.
Perhaps this would never have happened in the first place.
But there again, she should have seen the signs with Checo.
The long trips away without any contact. The expensive gifts lavished without a single glance...
Lisa sat in the car and wept. A heavy pall of desolation fell on her slender shoulders. It was true what they say... "Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone."
She'd never felt so lonely in all her life. That horrendous feeling of abandonment crashed over her. And she realized just who her friends were and how much she'd hurt them.
How could Wanda forgive her, after all she'd done? All the gossip, innuendoes? While all this time, her perfect life was crumbling down around her?

Melody was early, as usual -- punctual to the very second and carrying a small parcel under her arm. Gaily wrapped, it appeared to be a pile of books.
"How predictable," mused Wanda, a wry smile on her face, "every birthday, and she sends books as presents."
Melody couldn't help noticing the effort that had been made. The streamers, balloons, even the homemade cake. Florence grinned widely.
"We spent all afternoon," she said, licking a dollop of frosting off her finger, "blowing up all these balloons."
The doorbell rang and Wanda cast a worried frown across at Flo who shrugged her shoulders in reply.
Easing the door slightly ajar, she was stunned to see Lisa Ramirez stood at the threshold, with a hastily wrapped present in her hands.
She shuffled uncomfortably.
"I.... er.....I," for once in her life, words failed her as she looked upon the wide smiling face of Wanda.
"Here," she finally said, shoving the present into Wanda's hands, "it's not much, just a pretty little sweater for Harmony, that's all."
"Why don't you come in?" Wanda offered, stepping back.
The warm lighting pooled on the doorstep as Lisa hesitated.
"Um, I'm not su....."
Wanda hooked an arm around Lisa's bony shoulders and guided her indoors. Grabbing a plate, she stuffed it full to the brim with food.
"Here," she said, "you're awfully thin. You remind me of Melody. You need some meat on those bones of yours."
The old grandfather clock, the one Melody used to love winding up, struck six. Wanda put a homemade lemon meringue cake with four candles on it on top of their counter, while everyone gathered around it, tossing streamers and blowing party favors. Though Melody was not predisposed to parties, she attended anyway -- for her mother.
Melody felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. But she was far too preoccupied to turn around. IF she had, she'd have been face to face with the one person she least expected to see here... Lisa Ramirez.
"What are you doing here?" Lisa asked.
"I used to live here, and it's my sister's birthday," replied Melody tartly. "What are YOU doing here?"
Finally it was time for Harmony to blow out her candles and transform from a small toddler to an independent child.
Snuggled safely in Wanda's arms, Harmony gazed adoringly up into her mother's face -- the picture of pure innocence. Wanda smiled as she leaned over the counter and helped Harmony blow out the candles. Wanda set the child on the floor, surrounded by everyone who loved her, and wished her husband could be here to see this.

Chapter Thirty-Two (Part One)

Marla approached Melody just as she walked back into Aldrich. "How was it?" she asked in her sweet, cheery voice.
"How was what?"
"The dinner."
"Heh, you don't want to know," Melody replied.
"Try me." Marla managed a chuckle. "Was it that bad?"
Shaking her head, Melody answered, "Well, it wasn't necessarily bad, just different."
"What do you mean by 'different'?"
"Depends on your point of view, actually."
Marla shook her head. This was typical Melody, she decided, not revealing anything.

Meanwhile, Chester had gone back to his apartment. He suddenly realized his final exam was just hours away. He didn't need to cram, he'd already turned in his term paper and all his assignments. So he decided that in lieu of sleep, he wanted to fix one of the broken computers on his lot. Suddenly, though, an odd screen appeared on his lone functioning computer, with a strange series of numbers and letters. Unable to think of anything else, he pressed the speed dial on his cell phone and called Melody.
"Hey Mel," he said, "I think you should come see this."
"I'll be over in a few, I want to check something out first. Don't touch anything, I'll be right there."
Chester looked again at his screen. "The sequence has changed, it seems like someone is trying to talk to me in some arcane language."
"I'll be over there in a few."
True to her word, Melody arrived a few moments later and shook her head as she cleaned up Chester's fly-ridden dinner plate. "You know you risk all those flies ganging up on you, don't you?" she muttered to herself.
Chester took the steaming mug of coffee from Melody with trembling hands and gulped it down quickly. This was the last thing he wanted to see right before his final.

But Melody shoved him aside. "Here, let me have a look." she said, squinting at the screen. Her serious frown suddenly vanished and she smiled broadly. "I think I've cracked it!" she said suddenly. "Judging by the repetition of many verbs and adverbs, I'm sure that this is a jumbled form of Latin!"
"How do you know all that?"
"Simple," Melody smirked proudly, "from books."

"Figures.... but hey! Isn't that a dead language?"
"Yep, only used in the medical, religious, and scholarly communities nowadays."
"Circe!"
"Actually, no.....it's more of a plea for help."
"I wouldn't help her if she was on fire!"
"Chester!!!"
"No, seriously, she's one evil person -- if you can call her that -- she's totally inhumane, just like her husband --"
"Loki Beaker, that scientist in Strangetown -- yeah, I've read about him. He dabbles in some really dangerous hard-core stuff, using live subjects for his experiments."
His voice trailed off and he looked thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder if they're true?"
"What's that?"
"The rumors."
"Huh?"
"Apparently they're supposed to have a 'creature' locked in the basement of their castle."
"A creature?" Melody was intrigued. "Do you mean they're holding a person hostage?"
"He isn't the first, I'm sorry to say."
Melody's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"I was lucky to escape their clutches by coming to college, lest I would be the next victim."
Leaning forth with decided interest, Melody asked, "Do you know who he is? I mean, have you seen him?"
"No, I haven't exactly seen him, at least not that I know. But when I used to pass by the Beakers I used to hear noises coming from their basement."
Melody continued to read what was on the screen. "A fronte praecipitum a tergo lupi," she read. "A precipice in front, wolves behind. It's supposed to be cryptic. Whoever's talking, they're not really talking about wolves, they used it as a metaphor. It means they're in some kind of trouble."
She decided to sit at the terminal and try communicating with the entity sending messages through Chester's computer screen. "Quid fit?" she asked no one in particular.
"What did you just type?"
"Oh, it's a Latin greeting, something like 'what's happening?'" She waited a few seconds for a response. And she got one. "Sentio aliquos contra me conspirare."
"The person is saying some people are plotting against him," replied Melody.
"Are you serious?" Chester asked.
Melody shrugged. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Sighing heavily, Chester stole another glance at Melody. "I'm not liking the looks of this," he said. "How much Latin do you know?"
"Enough to get around Ancient Rome if I ever needed to." She laughed. "I took it in high school. Lots of Simlish is based upon it."
The person asked Melody if she spoke Latin, and she typed, "Sane, paululum linguae Latinae dico. Id legi modo hic modo illic. Vero, Latine loqui non est difficilissimum." (Sure, I speak a little bit. I picked it up here and there, but really, it isn't that hard.)
Chester looked over at Melody with longing and took a deep breath. Sure, he liked Jessica, but the woman he truly loved was in his presence right now. And he realized she was making a mistake.
The notion had been gnawing at him for awhile, eating at the very fiber of his being. "You can't do this," he said.
"Do what?"
Chester turned deadly serious. "You can't follow the path of Loki Beaker. You just can't. It's not you."
"What do you mean, follow the path of Loki Beaker?"
"I understand you love science and all, but there's a limit. You've cultivated that plant in the back of Aldrich and now look, it's already claimed a life."
"C'mon, Chester, he had no business being there in the first place, and he paid the price. Besides, Loki isn't my guide. I've got no desire to go into his line of work."
"If you ask me, you're already in it."
Shudders scooted down Melody's spine as Chester spoke. He was her best friend, how could he be saying these things to her? Why didn't he support her?
"It's just not you, Mel. I know you a lot better than that, and it's not you. It's not the woman I've come to know and love."

"My plan is to follow the paths of the Goths and the Curious brothers," she said, unsure if Chester was listening.
She turned to face Chester, her lips pressed tightly together, forming a pale line, determination written on her face.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her resolve fading as she read the pained expression on Chester's face.
"What?"
"Why are you, all of a sudden, trying to stop me from following my predestined path?"
Chester took a deep breath and turned away from her.
"It's because I care for you," he muttered, unable to meet her challenging glare. "It's because -- because -- I'm really worried for you."
At that precise moment, Chester was very aware of his hands, and began to pick at his fingernails, awaiting Melody's reply. There was a stunned silence as the gravity of his words began to sink in. Melody opened, then closed her mouth, as words failed her.
It was then that Chester finally turned and looked at her, his eyes locking with hers. Of all this time, he'd never once challenged or stood up to her, allowing her free rein to do as she wished.

But now, he knew he had to intervene. He'd recognized the fervor in her face, the flush in her cheeks and the manic glint in her eyes as she worked on her experiments. And he wasn't the only one who noticed this.

Could he be right? she wondered. Had she gone too far with her experiment? And had she reached the point of no return?

Wanda Tinker dreaded her upcoming elder transition. She knew it meant her mortality was near, and that one day soon she would join her husband in that unmentionable place. All she'd ever wanted was to become a mother, and now all she wanted was a bright future for her daughters. She worried about them constantly -- the one who was in college and the other who was in diapers. After all, it had been her job as a mother, to worry about them. And yet... and yet.. she constantly feared that she'd failed as a parent. She'd failed at the one thing she'd ever wanted to do. What she wanted, above all, was for her daughters to forge an unbreakable sisterly bond. Upon her departure, she knew, they were all they were going to have left.
If there was one thing her daughters had inherited from her, it was their stubbornness -- a trait each expressed in different ways. She hoped they would somehow get to know each other better. Now, pressing on her mind, was the fact that Harmony's transition was coming up soon, too, and that would bring a new set of challenges. How would she, as an elder with far less energy, take to raising a child who would be teeming with it?
She decided to dial Melody at Academie Le Tour in hopes of convincing her to return to Bluewater over spring break to attend Harmony's transition party. She decided Harmony would have a quiet transition, with Melody and Florence as the only invited guests.
What she didn't know was that Melody was dealing with her own issue, namely her bloodstained hand as a result of the death of the cow mascot. It was the last thing she wanted her mother to hear about.
When Wanda picked up the receiver, she got a recorded message, "This is Melody's answering machine, leave a message at the tone. Bye."
Wanda took a deep breath. "Hey sweetheart, it's me, mom. Your little sister's birthday is coming up, and I'm hoping you'd come home for that. You can bring a friend, too, if you like. But I'll understand if you don't return to Bluewater, after all, I can't say you're exactly on anyone's favorite persons list here except mine and maybe Flo's. Call me back when you get a chance, love. Talk to you soon."
She looked at the grandfather clock in the living room. Where could Melody be at this time of the night? Surely she knew her oldest daughter was a night owl but hoped that she was at least in the relative safety of the dorm.

Wanda realized that all that mollycoddling she gave Harmony, would soon end, as this little bundle of mischief would soon grow up into an independent little girl, and then what would happen in the future? Would she turn into her sister and alienate herself from the family?

Interrupting Wanda from her reverie was a phone call from Jennifer Burb, who'd moved in the empty house across the street with her husband John and young daughter Lucy. She'd told Wanda she was a paralegal at Lawson and Lawson, the firm that was handling Malcolm Landgraab's affairs. This meant, Wanda thought, she knew all about the attempted takeover of Tinker Toys by Malcolm.

Wanda made attempts to grill Jennifer, but Jennifer wouldn't divulge any information. "Listen," Jennifer replied tartly, "I understand that it's in your best interests, but it's my job and reputation on the line here. It's taken a lot of sim hours to get where I am today. And I'm not prepared to lose it all. Sorry."

Lisa Ramirez had parked her silver and black Lexus in the parking lot of Amelia's Closet, the swanky clothing store in Bluewater. It was the last gift that Checo had given her, and now, she wouldn't be without it. It represented a token of her former life. After a great deal of thought, she realized it was one of Checo's guilt gifts, just to keep her happy.
She had just returned from the grocery store. There was no food in the house. Thanks to Checo's furniture business, she'd never known what it was like to be hungry. She and Tessa never wanted for anything. They'd lived the good life.
While at Amelia's, she spotted a woman who seemed familiar to her, but somehow also seemed different. Her brown hair, which used to be blunt cut and covered with a dumpy black hat, was now loose and full. Gone was her long housedresses and stooped posture. She'd even dropped thirty pounds. Lisa had to admit, she looked great. It was none other than Wanda Tinker.
Wanda was flourishing, no doubt about it. And yet, here was Lisa, struggling with two jobs to make ends meet. Already she'd had to sell off some of her more expensive pieces of furniture, and the clothes she wore had seen better days.
It occurred to Lisa to approach Wanda, to try to apologize. Would Wanda accept? Would Wanda even talk to her? After all, so much time had passed, and so many things had happened.
Lisa was now destitute. She hardly saw Tessa because she was working so much. Checo had vanished without a trace, and while she was thinking about walking toward Wanda, she caught a whiff of perfume. Her perfume. The special perfume Checo had always bought for her. And now, some other woman had breezed past her wearing it.
Lisa looked up. It was none other than the scarlet woman herself -- Dina Caliente, the curvaceous blonde her husband had the affair with. She was picking out designer wear for herself. It took a lot of restraint for Lisa, flushing with rage, for her not to walk over and slap the woman in the face.
Her perfect little life had fallen apart. But was it really perfect to begin with? Was it all a lie?

Chapter Thirty-One (Part Two)

When Dr. Hyden walked into his office from his last class of the day, Melody was waiting on him. "Miss Tinker?" he asked, looking around with a bewildered look on his face. "How long have you been here?"
Melody shrugged. "Not long at all."
"How did you get in? I lock my door at all times."
Melody shrugged again. "You left it open," she lied. Chester had taught her how to pick the lock. Dr. Hyden let out a deep sigh. "You haven't been poking around in my files, have you?"
"No," Melody frowned. "How am I supposed to know your password?"
Dr. Hyden took a long look at Melody, and suddenly decided she was attractive. "You know, Miss Tinker," he said, circling her uncomfortably, "if you weren't my student --"
Melody bristled. "Get your hands off my -- god, you're so disgusting!"
Startled by Melody's tone of voice, Dr. Hyden backed away.
"You know, I can have you reported to the chancellor for doing this." Melody was firm. "And don't think I don't know about you and Roxie Sharpe too."
"Who is Roxie Sharpe?" Dr. Hyden asked. "I don't have a student by that name."
"She isn't even one of your students? That makes it even worse."
"Seriously, Miss Tinker, I don't have an idea what you're talking about."
Melody turned around to face him. Inhaling deeply, she pieced together exactly what she was going to say. "I'm going to make a deal with you, Hyden."
Dr. Hyden didn't like the sound of that, but he listened anyway.
"I won't report these indiscretions of yours to the campus authorities -- if you agree to take my DNA test."
Dr. Hyden could do nothing but laugh. He knew he'd been backed into a corner. Either way, he was going to do something he didn't want to do.
"You're a smart lass, eh, Tinker?" Dr. Hyden managed to mutter.
"Yeah, well, I didn't steal it from anywhere." She took a deep breath. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I can't believe that you're still holding this over my head."
"Dr. Hyden, this charade has gone on long enough, it's time to find out the truth once and for all."

Chester Gieke rose from his bed the next day. He needed this time, this space, and discovered that he liked his own company. He needed to think about some things -- mostly the mess his love life had degenerated into. He'd wanted an understanding of women's motivations, but found that he was more confused than ever. And what Melody had said really made his head spin. He secretly (and not-so-secretly) hoped that what happened wouldn't damage his hopes of finally graduating from ALT.
So, with a heavy heart and a heavy mind -- he paid a visit to Aldrich. He found he MISSED living there -- missed the constant movement, missed the busy-ness, missed the noise. More importantly, he missed his friends. His apartment was usually silent, except for the noises from his computer game.
He and Melody walked straight toward the back greenhouse, unaware that they were being watched.
"Chester, we've got a problem," Melody whispered, with the cowplant seemingly listening to their every word.
"What do you mean?" wondered Chester, rubbing his chin.
"Well, the plant -- it -- it ate a sim just like we would eat a meal."
Shaking his head, Chester replied, "No, wait a minute, that's impossible. No way the plant could actually eat a simian. The only thing it takes in as nourishment is special fertilizer. That's what the instructions said."
"Well, it's clear this isn't an ordinary plant," Melody confirmed.
"No shit, Sherlock," laughed Chester. "Look at it, the thing has a cow head and fangs, for chrissakes! It's not supposed to look like that is it?"
Melody took a step back. Had the plant's chemistry changed when Chester's blood accidentally got onto the seeds? There was only one way for her to find out. After swabbing Chester's tongue, Melody peered into the powerful microscope. She pulled away, rubbing her eyes. 'I must be getting tired,' she thought, wiping the lens of her glasses.
Leaning forward again, she peered down onto the sliver of glass and shook her head. "It can't be," she whispered.
"Anything wrong?" Chester asked, approaching.
"Give me your hand," she demanded, grabbing a sterilized needle.
"Whoa!!" Chester protested, stepping back.
"Aww, c'mon," she said, grabbing his fingers.
Chester yelped as he felt the pin prick on the fleshiest part of his thumb.
"Owwww!! THAT HURT!"
"Wuss," she grinned, "all I wanted was a drop of blood."
Chester took one look at the smear of blood on his thumb, and promptly vomited.
Melody shook her head and let out a deep sigh. "You are worse than my kid sister," she said as she closed her eyes and cleaned Chester off with a towel.
"It's not my fault needles give me the creeps. When I was little I actually ran from the doctor. My parents had to hold me down to have my shots."
Chester looked up, into Melody's eyes. He couldn't forget those eyes, those big, piercing, can't-miss-anything brown eyes. He'd already decided they were her most noteworthy feature. They stood in sharp contrast to his own -- so inconspicuous that his glasses could very well substitute for them.
He knew instantly where he'd seen those eyes -- on a portrait of Dr. Hyden hanging in his office. They were the same ones, the same large, piercing brown eyes. He couldn't help but think -- was it really true? Could it be?

"An invite to the Goth mansion?" Edwin asked Melody over dinner. "You cannot be serious! Do you realize how big a deal this is?"
Melody shrugged. "It's not really that big of a deal."
"Do you know who he is?!?" Marla exclaimed. "He's only the most important man in all of Sim City. And the fact that you and Chester have been granted a private audience with him -- I mean that doesn't happen, like, ever. Especially not to lowly college students like us."
"Do you know what you're going to say to him?" Edwin asked.
"I guess, we're going to explain our project --"
Edwin took a deep breath. "That thing in the greenhouse out back?"
Melody sighed. "How do you know about that?"
"C'mon, Mel, it's not that big of a secret, you know. I know you and Chester have been up all night, every night, and you sneak out back every morning with a notepad."
Melody bristled. "How do you know all that?"
"Hey, you forget I lived in an apartment with the two loudest people on the face of the earth. You kind of get used to certain things after awhile."

Melody had asked Marla to help her pick out something to wear to the Goth mansion. "I'm no good at this," she complained.
"You'll find something to put on," Marla smiled.
"But I only own one dress!"
"Wear it."
"But it's not right, I mean, this is the Goth mansion we're talking about. And you know a whole lot more about clothes than I do."

Inside the Goth mansion, Melody and Chester jostled each other, shuffling uncomfortably. They were here by special invitation. Even though this elderly man barely reached their shoulders, with his stooped posture, he still commanded an air of authority. His watery eyes missed nothing.
"You CAN enter you know," he grumbled, rubbing at his lower back, "and make sure you close that door. The damp air plays havoc with my old joints."
Slowly they peered in. "You first," Chester whispered, nudging Melody on her shoulder. Melody took a deep breath. This was THE Mortimer Goth, who'd made his living with fabulous gadgets and years of studying extraterrestrial and paranormal phenomena. He'd amassed the most impressive fortune in all of Sim City, making Landgraab look like a pauper in comparison.
"I've heard you young'uns have been doing some good work." Mortimer chewed on his mustache and patted his head.
Melody could remember only two other occasions during which she'd truly been awestruck -- first, by meeting Darren Dreamer, and second, by meeting Dr. Hyden. This one, however, dwarfed them both.
Mortimer Goth managed to be both frail and imposing at the same time. The crotchety old CEO of Goth Industries told the pair to sit in his elegant, spacious dining room.
Melody, sharp eyed as usual, instantly spotted the pain in Mortimer's eyes, the accentuated gruffness in his voice and the slow way he moved from A to B. His spine, once straight as an arrow, now slightly curved, with his shoulders hunched in an exaggerated stoop "Alexander?" Mortimer called softly, "our guests are here."
From nowhere, creeping spectrally silent into the hallway, a tall, lanky, bespectacled boy appeared. "He's such a shy boy," Mortimer shook his head. "Completely withdrawn himself from everything, ever since his mother vanished."
Melody picked up the tone of regret in this elderly gent's voice. She and Chester already knew the story by memory. Several years ago, when Alexander was but a tot, Mortimer's wife, the legendary beauty Bella Bachelor Goth, had vanished. The current theory was that she'd been stargazing on Don Lothario's condo deck and been abducted by aliens. In his spare time (when he wasn't running and hiding from everyone) Chester spent a great deal of time researching the 'Bella Goth' conspiracies.
No one knew for sure what had happened to her. Ever since he saw (or thought he saw) a perfect lookalike wandering through Strangetown, he himself had many unproven theories of his own. Not renowned for being a 'sensitive soul' (Chester concluded that Edwin and Marla fit that bill) he himself saw the deep aura of sadness circling Mortimer.
Alexander stopped short, his mouth hung open at the sight of two strangers sitting at his dinner table.
"Alexander," his father called softly, "why don't you join us?"
Alexander flushed brightly before turning and fleeing.
Alexander was always in awe of his father. Keeping silent all the time but overhearing these two discussing his father's sorrow, an overwhelming urge crept over him. After all, wasn't he himself a witness to the wanton debauchery of his step mother Dina? She was always on the phone, calling all her 'conquests.' It was common knowledge that they didn't always get on. Actually, that was an understatement -- they hated each other on sight. Alexander didn't like Dina the moment he first saw her. Tall, blond, and beautiful, Dina slithered her way into his father's life like a snake. He hated the way she wrapped her slinky arms around him, how she told him everything she thought he wanted to hear. Especially after the disappearance of Bella, Dina was a ray of sunshine in his dark, dreary life. Or so he thought.
Why were they here? Alexander wondered. Were they here to pry? Were they spies?
Meanwhile, Mortimer's excellent turkey dish sat on the table. Melody, not usually one to eat, was famished after spending hours buried underneath stacks of yellowing texts in the Le Tour library.
Melody glanced over at Chester and saw him hyperventilating as he took his seat. Which meant, as usual, it would be up to her to explain the experiment.
Chester couldn't believe where he was, or where his journey with Melody had taken him. A year ago he wouldn't have dared to set foot in the Goth mansion, in the presence of a man he admired greatly. Now he was there, in his presence, explaining his work.
There was a definite air of hostility, when Melody and Chester came face to face with Dina.
Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she shifted Manuel's heavy weight from one hip to the other.
Melody couldn't help noticing the resemblance to his mother.
His chubby fingers played with Dina's own hair as he nodded to sleep, his tiny little head lolling on her chest.
"Please excuse me," said Dina turning abruptly, "I'd better get this little man to bed."
His eyes were tight shut, so they couldn't quite see if he had Dina's or Mortimer's eye colour, but the resemblance to Dina was indeed very striking.
Meanwhile, the phone rang. "I'm sorry," Mortimer said, his tone regretful, "I've got to take this." Chester and Melody watched in awe as Mortimer disappeared toward the kitchen, where the phone was located. "Alexander, be a good host until I return."
Alexander inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He didn't know these two, had never seen them before in his life, but yet they seemed strangely familiar to him, like he'd seen them before in another dimension.
Alexander slid into his chair, his eyes alternating between Chester and Melody, his face hopeful and expectant. But soon enough, his attention strayed to Melody. The easy going attitude she had, the way she gave him her full attention when he asked questions. It could have been his fertile imagination, or even his raging teen hormones. But he felt that Melody made him appear the single most important person at that table.
Melody herself, was flattered by the rapt attention this soft-spoken teenage boy gave her. How his pallid complexion flushed whenever she answered his questions and smiled at him.
Chester waited until the taxi pulled toward the curb. Then he pounced. "He was flirting with you," he declared loudly.
"What?" Melody was stunned.
"He was hanging on every word you said."
"C'mon, Chester, he's a kid. When kids see grownups around them, they're gonna mimic everything they say."
"Not the way he was 'mimicing.' He couldn't keep his eyes off of you." They walked into the taxi and rode back to Le Tour, jostling and needling each other the whole way.