Just Like Old Times

 

 

By:  Kenda

 

Just Like Old Times is a sequel to Precious Cargo.  Precious Cargo can be found in the Simon and Simon Library.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

     The two men withdrew even farther into the bushes, like turtles withdrawing into their shells.   Fortunately, the dark night, as well as their dark clothing and the grease paint on their faces, made for good cover. 

 

     The teenagers passed within three feet of the men without ever being aware of their presence.  The men remained where they were until the teens' laughter and animated chatter faded in the distance.

 

     Rick Simon cautiously rose from the bush he'd dived into.  He peered slowly to the left and then to the right.

 

     "Geez, that was close." 

 

     Rick's younger brother emerged from his own hiding spot. 

 

"No kidding.  And the next time you can have the damn rose bush."

     A.J. gingerly plucked the thorns from his behind with a strangled cry of  "Ouch!"   He sneered at Rick in the darkness.  "And quit your snickering."

 

     "Who?  Me?"

 

     A.J. didn't have to be able to clearly see his brother's face, to be able to visualize the expression of exaggerated innocence that dominated Rick's features.

 

     The blond gently probed his scraped elbows.  "Yes, you.  It's not funny.  This is exactly the kind of thing I didn't miss about being a P.I."

 

     "Aw, A.J., quit your moanin' and groanin'.  You'll live.  Besides, this kinda stuff is what makes the job fun." 

 

     Before A.J. could formulate a sufficiently sharp reply, Rick crouched down and ran for the corner of the house next door.  The blond man followed at his brother's heels.

 

      They stopped a moment while Rick peered into the expansive backyard of the dark house.   "You know what your problem is?"  Rick whispered. 

 

     "No. I don't," A.J. answered in an equally quiet tone.  "But I suppose you're going to tell me."

 

     Rick's head nodded beneath the bill of his military camouflage cap.  "I am.  Your problem is you got soft sittin' up there in that highfalutin lawyer's office in Seattle.  You forgot how to roll with the punches."

 

     "I'm not soft.  And I didn't forget how to roll with the punches.  I'm just...a few years older than I was the last time one of your bright ideas caused me to dive for cover in a rose bush."

 

     "Ain't my problem you picked the wrong bush, little brother."

 

     A.J. reached around and pulled another thorn from his jean clad rump. "Let's just get this over with before anything else happens I'm going to find painful."

 

     "Good idea.  There's the garage.  If Crandal's right, the garden shed should be behind it."

 

     A.J. glanced up at the lavish, two story brick colonial he and Rick were pressed against.  "The house is dark.  At least he was correct when he told us Burgess and his wife would be out for the evening."

 

     "Appears to be," Rick softly agreed.  "Come on.  Let's make a run for the back of the garage.  If we get that far without any of the neighbors spying us we should be home free.  Crandal said the fence that separates this property from the guy in the back is seven feet high.  No one will see us go into the shed.  We'll be covered by the garage in the front and the fence in the back."

 

      A.J. pressed a dial on his wristwatch, causing a soft light to come on.  "It's almost eleven thirty.  We'd better get a move on.  There's no telling when these people might decide to come home from wherever they are."

 

     "Skinny dipping."

 

     "Pardon me?"

 

     "Skinny dipping.  They belong to some club that meets once a month to take turns skinny dipping in each other's pools."

 

     "Rick...Burgess and his wife are Mom's age if they're a day."

 

     Rick turned and cocked a devilish eyebrow at his brother.  "I know. Kinda makes you wonder what Mom does in her spare time, doesn't it?"

     "No, it doesn't."

 

      A.J. ran behind his brother as Rick dashed for the back of the garage.  They skirted the edge of the kidney shaped swimming pool, and with all the dexterity of Olympic athletes half their ages weaved in and out of the lawn furniture surrounding the pool before vaulting a grounded beach ball.  Within seconds the two men arrived at their destination.

 

      "And just what do you mean by that anyway?"

 

     "Oh, nothin' special.  Just keep in mind, little brother, that you've been gone five years.   People tend to acquire new hobbies in that amount of time, you know."

 

     A.J. simply shook his head at his sibling as Rick picked the lock on the shed. 

 

     A.J. had indeed been gone from San Diego for five years.  Actually four years and eight months to be exact.  He and his ex-wife, Janet Fowler, had been married in September of 1990.   They'd permanently parted ways in May of 1995, when A.J. returned home to San Diego on the yacht, Precious Cargo, with his mother and brother.  The divorce had been granted the next week.   It was now two and a half months later, and A.J. was slowly working at rebuilding his life.  

 

     He'd bought his house back from Rick, while Rick had returned to his boat.  The houseboat had been leased out to Carlos's oldest son and his wife at the same time Janet and A.J. married.  Conveniently enough, Diego and Melissa purchased a home of their own in April, leaving Rick's boat vacant and awaiting his return.  Just like A.J.'s old house seemed to know all along that one day he'd return to it as well.

 

     Rick had done very little to change the interior of the house in five years time.  And, in some strange way, that brought comfort to A.J.  It allowed him to live within the illusion that the past five years hadn't happened.  It allowed him to forget the heartache the breakup of his marriage had caused him.  The sense of tremendous disappointment and guilt he felt at having failed to make something as important as his marriage work.  And, the devastating realization that he might never be a father.  That at age forty-six, the possibility of having children with a woman he loved seemed to be slipping farther and farther out of A.J.’s reach.

 

     At one time A.J. had loved Janet more than life itself.  Now what he felt for her...well, even he didn't know sometimes.  They'd parted on amiable enough terms.  Far better terms than many divorced couples do.  But it scared him.  That he could be so in love with a woman, treasure her above all else in his life, only to have that love whither and die like a water-hungry flower.  To only be able to acknowledge to himself that what he felt for Janet now was the same type of love a person feels for an old and distant friend.  Yes, he cared about what happened to her and wished her great success.  But no, they didn't keep in touch with one other and, quite frankly, he'd be surprised if he ever saw her again.

 

     "Yo, A.J.  Earth to A.J."

 

     Rick's voice caused A.J. to shake off his muddled and depressing thoughts. 

 

     "What?"

     "I've asked you twice to hold the flashlight on this lock for me so I can see what I'm doin' here."

 

     “Oh.” A.J. fumbled for the switch on the flashlight he held in his right hand.  "Sorry."

 

     Rick studied what part of his brother's face the light's beam revealed.  "You okay?"

 

     "Yeah.  Yeah, I'm fine.  Why?"

     "Just askin'.  You kinda zoned out on me for a few seconds there."

 

     "I'm fine," A.J. reiterated firmly before Rick could ask any further questions.  "Come on.  Let's get this job over with before we get caught with our hands in the cookie jar, so to speak."

 

     Rick slipped the pick into the lock.   "That's just what I'm tryin' to do."

 

     Rick hadn't lost his skill at gaining illegal entrance into locked buildings in the years since he and A.J. had last worked together.  In less than a minute, he swung the door open and invited A.J. to step inside.

 

     The blond man swung the flashlight around the interior of the shed.  He spotted a light switch, but thought better of flipping it on.  The eight foot by eight foot shed had no windows and was secluded behind the garage, but nonetheless it was better to be safe than sorry.

 

     The brothers picked their way cautiously about the interior of the old garden shed.  Three rusted bicycles, reminiscent of the sturdy style from their own childhoods, littered their path.  Old iron milk crates and antique lawn equipment was stored haphazardly about the small area as well.

 

     Rick crouched down on his knees.    "Take a look at this old rotary mower.  I didn't think there were any of these things left around.  Remember how I used to mow old Mrs. Neeman's lawn with one of these things every Saturday?"

 

     "I sure do.  Though I don't recall you looking at her mower with quite the fondness you're looking at this one."

 

     Rick smiled in memory.  "No, I guess I didn't.  That was a hell of a lot of work pushing that old thing over her lawn week after week.   I got paid three bucks for about five hours of work and thought I’d hit the big time."

 

     A.J. fingered through the weathered tools on the tool bench.  "If this guy had taken care of this stuff he'd have a fortune in antiques out here."

 

     “Yeah, he sure would.”  Rick's knees cracked as he rose.  "After seein' the fancy house, it's hard to believe things are such a mess out here."

 

     Thoughtfully, A.J. agreed.  "Yes, it is."    He weaved his way in and out of the ancient, rusted equipment.  He leaned his right side and shoulder against one wall and shone the flashlight beam behind a discarded stack of broken rakes and shovels. 

 

     "What ya' got there?"

 

     A.J. reached out hand and moved something Rick couldn't see.  He lifted what he thought was a tattered bed sheet.  "Well, well, well.  I think I found the missing paintings.  Or at least some of them."

 

     "Really?"

 

     "Yep."  A.J. moved away from the wall.  "Take a look."

 

     Rick reached for his brother's flashlight.  "Well, whatta ya' know.  Who would have ever thought the guy stored stolen artwork out here?"

 

     "But if you think about it, what better place to store it?" A.J. pointed out.  "You can't see the shed from the street, so unless you know the property you wouldn't even guess it existed.  And once you see the inside, you'd assume no one has been in here for years."

 

     "And to think that all this time it was right under our noses.  We wasted all that time searching the guy's house and garage last week.  And the storage facility he rents the week before."

 

     "And almost got caught both those times," A.J. reminded.

 

     Rick pushed himself away from the wall.  "There you go again, knockin' the excitement of the job."

 

     "Yeah, well, before the job gets anymore exciting let's get out of here.  We can call Crandal from my house.  He can place an anonymous call to the cops about this.  My guess is that by morning Lester Burgess's skinny dipping days will have come to a permanent...ouch!"

 

     "What?"

 

     A.J. reached around and awkwardly brushed a hand over his shoulder blade.   "Something's poking me in the back.  Another damn thorn from that stupid rose bush no doubt."

 

     Rick muttered,  "I told ya' you were gettin' soft," right before he cautiously opened the shed door and exited into the night.

 

     A.J. relocked the shed and scurried across the back lawn after his sibling.  "I'll give you soft, Rick Simon," he quietly vowed. 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

     A week and a half after the raid on Lester Burgess's shed, Rick was sitting behind his desk in the office perusing the sports section of the paper. Not the familiar, downtown office that had housed Simon and Simon Investigations for a number of years, but rather the office Rick had been renting at the marina for the now defunct Captain Gully's Excursions. 

 

     The Simon brothers had agreed to go back into business together on a trail basis for the summer.  If things worked out, then they'd move into their former office at the beginning of September.  They had bought the building it was housed in in 1988, and had leased out what had been their office to a local bank for its bookkeeping staff when they dissolved the partnership five years earlier. 

 

     Now, as far as Rick Simon was concerned, that former office was exactly where he and his brother were headed.   The resurrection of Simon and Simon had been a worthwhile one...and was beginning to be a profitable one, as well.  They were already doing business for a number of old clients who happy to give the Simon brothers their patronage once more.  New clients were slowly coming their way, too.  It hadn't hurt any that Rick had advertised Simon and Simon could now offer sound legal advise, as well as top notch investigation work, in deference to A.J.'s stint as a Seattle attorney.  A.J. hadn't been too pleased about that first part.  But then, even in the old days A.J. generally found fault with Rick's marketing ploys.  It was just another one of the many things the brothers agreed to disagree on.

 

     Yep, it's just like the old days, Rick Simon often found himself thinking of late with great fondness, and a certain degree of smug satisfaction thrown in to boot.

 

     More than he'd ever admit to himself, let alone to anyone else, Rick had missed his brother these past five years.  To all appearances he had been content running Captain Gully's Excursions.  But that was just on the outside.  Inside, he grieved for the loss of the Simon and Simon partnership almost from the very day A.J. left for Seattle.  Not to mention the loss of the close bond he and A.J. had shared those ten years in business together that just couldn't quite bridge the miles that separated Southern California from Northern Washington.

 

     Rick looked up from the printed page when the door opened.  A.J. maneuvered around the chairs and coffee table in the center of the cramped room until he came to his desk. 

 

     The small, wood paneled office had a distinctive nautical air about it.  Fish of various sizes were mounted and hung on the walls.  Eight by ten photographs displayed Captain Gully patrons proudly showing off the good fortune their excursions had brought them.

 

     The little office had been just the right size for one man, one desk, and the necessary paraphernalia involved in the day-to- day running of a business.  Adding an additional man and desk had made for tight quarters.   When clients were present it was like being on a crowded bus.  Or so A.J. often said. 

 

     "Morning," Rick greeted.

 

     A.J. slid bonelessly into his chair.   "Morning," he mumbled.

 

     "There's coffee."

 

     The blond head gave a weary, negative roll.  "Thanks.  Not this morning."

 

     Rick studied his pale sibling for a few seconds.  "You okay?"

 

     A.J. rubbed a hand over his throbbing forehead.   "Yeah."

 

     "You don't look okay."

 

     "I guess I've still got a touch of that flu bug.  I can't seem to shake it."

 

     "But you were feeling fine yesterday."

 

     "I know.  I was feeling okay over the weekend, too.  But last night, after I got home from work, I felt like someone had wrung me out like a dishrag."

 

     "How so?"

 

     A.J. closed his eyes and lifted a shoulder.  "I don't know.  I just...ache all over."

 

     "Have you been throwin' up again?"

 

     "No.  But let's put it this way, eating doesn't sound like a very good idea right now."

 

     "Ah," Rick nodded.  "The reason behind you turnin' down my offer of coffee."

 

     Without lifting his head from the back of his chair, A.J. looked over at his brother.  "I don't have to be nauseous to turn down your coffee.   Generally, that's a good idea on any given day.  But believe me, today it's an extremely good idea."

 

     Rick had no smart aleck retort for A.J.'s comments, but rather sat quietly with a funny little grin on his face. 

 

     "What are you smiling about?"  A.J. asked.

     "About how much things really haven't changed."

 

     "Pardon me?"

 

     "Well, before you came in I was sittin' here thinkin' how us being back in business together is just like old times.  And now, with you making cracks about my coffee, it just further emphasizes that fact.  Some days it kinda feels like the last five years never happened, don't  ya' think?  Like there's never been an interruption to the flow of Simon and Simon."

 

     "Some days it feels like that," A.J. agreed.   "But some days..."

 

     A.J. let that thought trail off has he propelled himself out of his chair and sprinted for the tiny bathroom at the back of the office.   Within seconds, Rick was at his side.

 

     The blond man made it has far as the sink.  He leaned over it, supporting himself in a half upright position by hanging onto the vanity top with one hand.  His other hand held his tie in place against his chest.

 

     Because A.J. hadn't eaten any breakfast very little was vomited up.  He stomach cramped and rolled as dry heaves assaulted him next.

 

     Rick reached for a hand towel and turned on the cold water.  He wet the towel and wrung it out, then held it against A.J.'s forehead.  They stood that way for several minutes, A.J. bent over the sink while waiting for the nausea to pass, with Rick standing next to him holding the towel in place.  Rick's other hand came up to rest lightly on his younger brother's back.

 

     Rick had to strain to hear his brother's mumbled words. 

 

"I could have done this perfectly fine without the benefit of an audience."

 

     "But gee, what fun would that have been for me?"

 

      Finally A.J. swallowed hard a few times, before shakily rising to an upright position.  He raised his hand to brush Rick's towel aside.

 

     "You okay now?"

 

     "Yeah."  The blond man lied with great effort.  "I'm okay."    His stomach felt like he’d just stepped off an out-of-control roller coaster with triple loops and seven hairpin turns.  

 

      "You look like something the cat dragged in."

 

     A.J. threw his brother a glance that told Rick he was in no mood for further humor.   "We haven't had a cat since you ran over Snowball on the first day you became a licensed driver."

 

     Rick mumbled,  "Wasn't my fault the stupid cat was sittin' underneath one of the car's tires," right before gently urging A.J. backwards to sit on the closed toilet lid. 

 

     "Sit down for a minute.  I'll go get your mug and fill it with water."

 

     A.J. didn't protest his brother's suggestion.  Within seconds Rick had returned with A.J.'s coffee mug.  He rinsed it out before filling it with cold water and handing it to the blond.  A.J. took a few sips.  He swished the liquid around in his mouth then spit it out in the sink.  He reached for the faucet and rose on legs that had all the stability of gelatin.  He leaned over and splashed his face with cool water. 

 

     Rick retrieved another towel off the rack and handed it to A.J. when he surfaced.  The blond nodded gratefully and patted his face dry.

 

     "I'll take you home."

 

     "No," A.J. shook his head.  "I can drive."

 

     "A.J.--"

 

     "I can drive," A.J. reiterated.  "I feel okay now."

 

     "You feel okay?" Rick mocked.  "A.J., you just finished pukin' your guts up, your hands are shaking, and a piece of chalk has more color than you do right at the moment.  Now come on, let me take you home."

 

     A.J. pulled himself up to his full height.  His response was terse and tight.  "Rick, I can take care of myself, thank you very much.  I'm perfectly capable of driving home."

 

     Rick followed his brother out of the bathroom.  "Okay, fine.  Have it your way.  But if you end up tossin' your cookies in the Camaro, don't come cryin' to me."

 

     "I won't.  Do either one, that is.  I'll see you tomorrow."

 

     "You call me when you get home."

 

     A.J. turned from the doorway.  "Rick..."

 

     "Look, A.J., that's the deal.  Either I drive you home now, or you call me when you get there."

 

     A.J. felt too rotten to stand and argue the point any further.  "Fine.  I'll call you.  Goodbye."

 

     "Bye.  And you make sure you rest.  I'll stop by after work to see how you're doin'.  I'll make supper for us if you feel like eating."

 

     Rick couldn't help but smile at the sarcastic remark that drifted back to him as A.J. walked out the door. 

 

"I can hardly wait.  If I am feeling better by then, your cooking's liable to do me in for good."

 

     "Just like old times, A.J.!"  Rick called after his departing sibling. 

 

     If A.J. heard his brother, he chose not to answer. 

    

 

Chapter 3

 

 

     Just like he promised, A.J. called Rick when he arrived home.  Rick kept the conversation short in deference to the fact that A.J. sounded more wrung out than he had when he left the office. 

 

     "You goin' to bed?"  Rick asked, though it was more a directive than a question.

 

     "I'm already there."

 

     "Good.  Stay there.  Maybe you just need to get a few days of rest to get past this flu, or whatever it is."

 

     "Yeah, probably."

 

     "I'll see you after work.  Call me if you need anything before then."

 

     "Okay.  See you later."

 

     "Bye."

 

     Rick hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, lost in deep thought.  He was still sitting like that ten minutes later when there was a knock on the office door.

 

     "Come on in!"

 

     A shaggy headed, stocky man two years younger than Rick, entered the room. 

 

     Rick rounded his desk with his right hand outstretched. 

 

"Hey, Joel.  How ya' doin'?"

 

     Joel Lankey, the Simon brothers' friend, as well as personal physician, shook hands with the detective. 

 

"Hi, Rick.  I'm doing fine.  How are you?"

 

     "Right as rain, as the expression goes."  Rick led the doctor toward the grouping of chairs in the center of the little office floor.  "Have a seat."

 

     Rick sat down across from the doctor and propped his feet up on the round coffee table.  "So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

 

     "Simply to say hi.  I heard A.J. was back in town, but I haven't had a chance to run down here.   Is he around?"

     "He was until about forty-five minutes ago.  He went home sick."

 

     "Sounds like I arrived a little too late to offer my services," Joel quipped.  "It's nothing serious I hope."

 

     "Naw," Rick dismissed.  "I don't think so.  He says it's a touch of the flu."

 

     Joel's right eyebrow disappeared into his salt and pepper curls.  "He says?  You sound like you don't believe him."

 

     Rick smiled with chagrin.  He hadn't intended for his thoughts to be so easily read. 

 

"It's not that I don't believe him.  I mean, he really was sick.  He looked like death warmed over when he walked in the door this morning.   And he wasn't here five minutes before he was throwing up in the sink."

 

     "Sounds like the flu to me.  Or some type of intestinal bug anyway."

 

     "Yeah.  But the strange thing is, he had it for a day a week ago Sunday.   Then he was fine.  It came back again last week on Wednesday and Thursday.  Then on Friday he was okay again, and continued to be throughout the weekend and yesterday.  Now it flares up again.  Don't you think that's a little out of the ordinary?"

 

     "Quite frankly, yes I do.  Or at least it's not the normal pattern a flu virus generally follows.  But I get the impression you already know what's wrong."

 

     "Not really.  But I've been wonderin' if it could be nerves."

 

     "Nerves?"

 

     "Yeah, you now, 'cause of the divorce and everything that's followed.  Him givin' up his law career, the move back here, us reopening the business..."

 

        Rick let his sentence trail off in the form of a question.

 

     "That's quite possible.  Those are some very major lifestyle changes in only what, three months time?"

 

     "About that."

 

     "Has A.J. said anything to you about it?  Indicated to you that he's not happy, or at loose ends?"

 

     "No.  As a matter of fact, I thought he was settling in real well.  He seems happy.  Or at least content.  But he wouldn't necessarily tell me if he wasn't.  I'm worried that this breakup with Janet is botherin' him more than he's lettin' on."

 

     "More than likely it is," Joel replied honestly.  "You and I both know how much A.J. loved her.  Now, I don't have the faintest idea as to what their problems were, but speaking from experience, I can tell you it's not always easy to decide to end a marriage.  It's not just the expectations you had of yourself and those of your spouse that come into play, but also the expectations of your children, family, and friends.  For a long time after my divorce, I felt like I not only let myself down, but that I also let down everyone that cared about me.  It's not easy, Rick.  Even when you know it's for the best."

     Rick stared thoughtfully off into space.  "No.  I don't suppose it is."

 

     "I lost fifteen pounds the first three months after Carrie and I split up.  Of course, you wouldn't know it to look at me now."

 

     Rick's eyes lit up with teasing.    "I guess you've gotten over it, huh?"

 

     "Yes I have.  And as time goes by, A.J. will, too.  Or at least he'll get past the hard parts.  But don't be surprised if it takes him a while.  I know A.J. well enough to know that he didn't take this marital breakup lightly."

 

     "No," Rick shook his head.  "No, he didn't.  I think inside...well, I think inside it's really tearin' him apart."

 

     "It could very well be.  And that, in turn, is quite likely the cause of his recent health problems.  I was plagued by a general feeling of fatigue and depression for the first six months after my divorce.   I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.  Why I felt so rotten.  I mean, logic tells you the worst of it is behind you once the papers are signed.  All the fighting, the tension between you and your spouse, is over.  You've moved on to start a new life.   Only it doesn't always work that way.  Sometimes our minds and bodies throw a variety of symptoms our way in a delayed reaction to stress." 

 

     "So that's what you think is wrong with A.J.?  That this flu is really nothing more than pent-up stress?"

 

     "Probably.  Though if it continues, he should come in for a complete physical.  While I doubt that it's anything serious, he shouldn't let the symptoms persist without seeing me."

 

     "I'll keep that in mind," Rick promised.  "I know he'll buck such a suggestion if I make it now.  But I also know if he continues to puke in the sink every morning, he's not going to have any choice but to make an appointment with you.  If nothing else, I'll hog tie him and haul him to your office myself."

 

     "Whatever works," Joel agreed.  "Just keep a discreet eye on him for the next few weeks.  If this is due to stress, it will come and go in spurts like it has been.  Then out of the blue, one day it will likely all be over with."

 

     More to himself than the doctor Rick muttered,   "The sooner the better."     

 

 

Chapter 4

     On Friday evening one week later, Rick parked his truck in his mother's driveway.  He hopped out of the cab and stepped aside to allow his dog, Rex, to do the same. 

 

     The well-trained retriever stood by his master while Rick reached into the bed of the truck for a brown grocery bag and a twenty-five pound sack of dog food.

 

     Cecilia must have seen them coming through the living room window.  Before Rick could ring the bell his mother opened the front door.

 

     A.J.'s round little basset hound, Toby, waddled onto the front porch to greet his friend Rex.  Rick let the two dogs sniff and lick each other a moment before beckoning,  "Come on, guys.  Come on in the house."

 

     Cecilia shut the door on her brood and accepted Rick's kiss on the cheek.

 

     "Hi, honey."

 

     "Hi, Mom.  I see A.J.'s already been here."

 

     "Yes, he has.  He dropped Toby off about an hour ago."

 

     Rex followed Toby to the pile of doggy toys scattered about the living room floor.  Cecilia led her son into the kitchen.   Rick deposited the dog food and the paper bag that contained dishes, a box of Milkbones, and a leash, right next to the bags A.J. had deposited earlier for Toby on the floor of their mother's kitchen closet.

 

     "Everything you need should be right in this bag, Mom.  Thanks for taking care of him for me."

 

     "Like I told A.J., honey, I don't mind.  Any time you boys need me to baby-sit for my granddoggies, all you have to do is ask."

 

     Rick chuckled.  "Glad to hear it.  If they misbehave you get after 'em with your fly swatter like you used to do to me and A.J.  If I remember correctly, that caused us to straighten out in short order."

 

     "It certainly did.   But I doubt I'll have to resort to that.  Usually Rex and Toby are easier to deal with on a daily basis than you and your brother ever dreamed of being."

 

     "Hey!"

 

     Cecilia laughed.  "I'm only teasing you, dear.  On most days, you two boys were the light of my life.  You still are."

     Rick kissed his mother again.  "That's why we love ya' so much, Mom.  You continuously forgive us our transgressions."

 

     "That I do, son.  That I do," Cecilia teased again.   "So, are you all packed for your trip?"

 

     Rick leaned against the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest.   "Just about.  I've got a few more things to throw in my bag, but other than that I've got all my fishing and camping gear together."

 

     "I'm glad you boys are taking this vacation.  I was afraid A.J. would back out of it with the two of you so recently having reopened the business."

 

     "To tell you the truth, I thought he might, too.  But he hasn't said a word about it.  About us not going, I mean."

 

     Over one year earlier, Rick and A.J., Downtown Brown and his younger brother Marcus, and Jerry Reiner and his older brother Lee, had reserved six spots on a privately chartered plane that would fly them to a remote area of the Canadian wilderness.   Years earlier the men had spent a week camping together a few hours north of San Diego.  They'd had such a good time, that on several occasions since then they'd vacationed together again.

 

     The previous year Lee Reiner had suggested that they go up to the Canadian province of British Columbia, where he claimed the water was so clear you could see your reflection as if you were looking into a mirror.  His description of abundant wildlife, pristine pine forests, wilderness untouched by man or machine, and excellent fishing, easily convinced the other men that this was a vacation well worth spending their money on. 

 

     "Good," Cecilia stated now.  "I'm glad he hasn't considered backing out.  I think he needs this vacation, don't you?"

 

     "Yeah, I do.  I'm hoping between the trip, and the fact that within a couple of weeks after we return we'll be movin' back into our old office...well, I'm hopin' those two things will be the final push A.J. needs to work past everything that's been botherin' him concerning the divorce."

 

     "Is he still getting sick?"

 

     "I don't know.  I suspect he’s not feeling the best, but he hasn't been physically ill in front of me since last Tuesday.   I think there have been days on and off that he hasn’t felt good, but he won’t admit to it if I ask, so I've quit askin'.  I just hope Joel is right, and that in time, A.J.'ll be his old self again."

 

     "I think he will be," Cecilia stated.  "After your father died, I didn't feel good for an entire year.  Food had no appeal to me, I didn't sleep well, and I suffered from frequent headaches.  I finally made an appointment to see Doctor Bolton.  He didn't find anything wrong, of course.  Just told me it was nerves."

 

     "What'd you do?  I mean, did he give you anything for it?"

 

     "He offered me a mild tranquilizer, which I refused.  Time was what I needed, Rick.  Time, and you boys.  Just like A.J. needs some time and his family right now.  But if these symptoms don't abate once you two are back from vacation and settled in your old office, then I’ll try to convince your brother to schedule an appointment with Joel."

 

     "I've been thinkin' the same thing myself, Mom.  I'm willing to give it that long.  That's three more weeks.  If he's not feelin' better by that time, then he's goin' to see Joel whether he wants to or not."

 

     Cecilia smiled.  "I'm glad we're in agreement on that fact.  It will make it harder for A.J. to refuse."

 

     "Yeah, it will.  And if nothing else, I'll get Lauren to work on him, as well.  Maybe she can convince him to go."

 

     Lauren Albright was the vivacious, thirty-eight-year-old public relations director for the city of San Diego.  A.J. met the copper-haired beauty in early June when the Simon brothers were contracted by the city to do background checks on potential employees.   Lauren had been divorced for three years, and shared joint custody of her two sons, ages four and six, with her ex-husband. 

 

      "Yes," Cecilia agreed now with a hint of distraction behind her tone.  "Possibly she can."

 

     "Mom?

 

“Mom?"

 

     "What?  Oh, I'm sorry, Rick.  Did you say something?"

 

     "No.  Not really.  You just seemed to be somewhere else there for a second.  When I mentioned Lauren's name.  What's the matter?  Don't you like her?"

 

     "Quite the contrary.  I like her very much.  I'm simply...concerned, that's all."

 

     "Concerned?  About what?"

 

     "About A.J.'s motives behind his relationship with her."

 

     "His motives?  What motives?  Whatta ya' mean?"

 

     "It's just that A.J. seems awfully attached to her boys.  And it's as plain as the nose on your face that Shane and Tanner are crazy about him.  Remember before A.J. was married, when he was still in the dating world, how your brother refused to date a woman with children?  Remember how he used to say he didn't want to deal with all the headaches another man's children can bring to a relationship?"

 

     "Well, yeah.  But that was a number of years ago, Mom.  Things change with time.  For all of us.  In the first place, there's not a lot of women out there for guys our age that haven't been married before.