EIGHT

Reagan stirred from her dreams as the Porsche's engine fell silent and the cessation of motion pulled her from sleep. She rubbed her one good eye with her one good hand and sat up straight. She immediately felt embarrassed at the fact she had drifted off like a toddler on a long excursion.

"Seems like a nice clean place," Colin remarked, ignoring the slight blush on the girl's cheeks, "and the parking lot is full so they must have good food too." He smiled as he unlatched his door and got out. The tall young man stretched and shook his legs when he stood.

Reagan leaned forward and peered through the window at the long metallic building. It looked very much like a railroad car, with the exception of the many windows on either side of the large glass door. She squinted, trying to make out the name of the place as the raindrops caused the bright red letters to wriggle like a mirage. 'Pot's Idea?' Colin had walked around the car stretching and flexing his arms, legs and back as he went. She smiled remembering that scarecrow that needed a brain in that movie she had seen with her parents last summer. The memory was painful, especially since she hadn't really thought of it before. It was the last thing they had done together. Regardless, she smiled again watching Colin flex and stretch his way around the vehicle. He opened her door and offered a hand to help her out. She looked at his hand and then back through the windshield at the wiggley red-lighted sign.

"It's okay, Reagan," he smiled, as he waited for her. "It's a diner, a little out of the way place for the common folk. Have you ever been to one?" She shook her head as she took the offered hand and exited the car. "Don't worry I wouldn't steer you wrong, Slugger." He smiled, as his large hand seemed to swallow her petite one. "Besides, you can always tell the good spots by the number of trucks in the parking lot. See?" He pointed toward a line of large freight carriers that were parked at the rear of the establishment. "I passed a few other places a way back," he threw his thumb over his shoulder, "not a truck to be seen!" They walked the short distance across the lot and he opened the door allowing them to enter.

Immediately, Reagan's nose was filled with the aroma of the most wonderful scents she had ever experienced. There was definitely apple pie and fried potatoes and so many others. She took a deep breath and felt her tummy growl anxiously. 'Funny,' she thought, 'I didn't even know I was hungry.'

"Booth or counter?" Colin was asking. She shrugged again as a tall waitress passed her carrying a tray laden with plates of steaming fare for the many noisy customers that filled the restaurant. Somewhere there was music playing, not that soft soothing music that played in Che Marie's or La Foligia, but twangy, thumping music that had some of the customers' feet tapping along with the rhythm. Colin smiled and led the girl to an empty booth. He took her coat and hung it on the post near their table as she slid over the red vinyl seat. The lawyer sat across from the child and watched as this stranger from the upper West Side marveled at the daily routine of an average diner.

A tall waitress set two small glasses of water on their table. "What'll be folks?" she smiled, around the gum she was chewing with major gusto. She held a small green pad in one hand and pulled a yellow pencil from behind her ear with the other. Her hair was the brightest shade of red Reagan had ever seen, in fact it was almost orange. It was cut short and tapered close to her head. Her uniform was a light shade of pink and she wore a red and white checked hankie pinned to her chest with a nametag that read, 'Cindy'. She blew a huge pink bubble with her gum. It popped loudly and she worked it back into a chewable mass. "You wanna see a menu?" she asked brightly, "special today is the club sandwich and soup." Cindy cracked her gum again, winked at Reagan and poised her pencil at the ready.

"That won't be necessary," Colin smiled back, "we'll have two cheeseburger platters with the works. I'll have a coffee, and a glass of milk for my young friend." He nodded toward Reagan as the waitress scribbled the order on her pad.

"Can I have root beer instead?" Reagan asked wide-eyed, surprised at the volume in her own voice.

Colin nodded. "Okay, scratch the milk and give the young lady a root beer."

The waitress flipped her pencil and scratched off part of the order with the nubbly eraser, then flipped it back and wrote again, "Two specials, coffee and a root beer…be about 5 minutes." She smiled at the lawyer and looked at his young companion. "Wow, sweetie! You get the number of that truck?" Reagan lowered her head, suddenly remembering the noticeable mark across her cheek. The waitress took immediate notice. "Hey, hey don't fret over it honey!! Once I slid on a damn pickle that got left on the floor!" she laughed out loud. "You should've seen that! Sailed right up in the air and landed flat on my a…er…keister. And, you can bet this crew never let me forget it!" She winked at Colin and patted Reagan's shoulder gently. "Hey, like my Momma always said, 'it'll be better before ya get married'. Right?" Reagan smiled a bit and nodded. The waitress turned and hurried back through the swinging door behind the long metal counter.

The meal was wonderful in its simplicity. The burger was covered with melted white cheese and rested on a fresh baked roll, the kind with the little seeds on top. There were onions, a large slice of tomato, a few lettuce leaves, and hot, brown, fried potato slices on the plate, as well. A small bowl of cole slaw was also included along with a large pickle slice, (that Reagan made sure did not drop on the floor). This was a fare to which the young girl certainly was not accustomed. Her usual diet consisted of fresh cuts of steak or lamb or veal, roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables. This was a treat and she enjoyed every morsel. Colin could not believe the small child could pack away that entire meal, but she surprised him. When the waitress asked if they had room for dessert, he was sure Reagan would shake her blonde head. Cindy offered five kinds of pie, two varieties of cakes or the house special -- a giant hot fudge sundae. A few minutes later the lawyer was shaking his head as Reagan had to kneel in order to reach the top of the mountain of whipped cream that topped the giant ice cream dessert. He sipped his coffee and hoped the girl was not prone to motion sickness.

After the bill was paid, (and both travelers had made a stop at the respective restrooms) they were once again heading toward the city. Once again an uneasy silence fell over their journey.

"If I'm not going to jail…where are you taking me?" Reagan asked, breaking the stillness inside the fancy car.

Colin looked at the girl for a moment and furrowed his brow, "home," he stated simply, wondering why she would even ask.

"Oh," she replied, "but, I don't even know you," she sighed.

"Not my home, your home," he corrected her.

She stared ahead for a beat and he noticed the tear roll over her cheek. "I don't have a home…any more," she remarked.

"What do you mean you haven't got a home?" he tried to console her, "What about Mac an Bhaird?"

"Payton lives there. Daddy left it to her." Reagan stated.

"Yes, she does," Colin nodded, "but your father left it to both of you."

"Really?" Reagan brushed away her tears, as her eyes grew wide. She sat up taller in the leather seat and seemed hopeful for the first time in months.

"I should know. I'm the lawyer. Right?" Colin smiled. The girl nodded in agreement. "He left the company to Payton. The house stays in the family," he assured her, then his voice became sorrowful, "unfortunately, the apartment uptown was sold."

Reagan frowned, remembering the large three-bedroom penthouse apartment she had shared with her parents. Her mother loved the city and her father had promised they would live there instead of on the estate. The estate had always been Payton's home. Reagan knew that her father spent time there as well, but Payton did not get along very well with her father's wife so the apartment solved everyone's problem. For a few minutes she just watched as the countryside sped past. "Payton doesn't like me," she finally said with a soft sigh, "she won't be happy."

"Payton McAllister doesn't like anyone," Collin shook his head, "and I don't think she knows how to be happy."

"Everyone knows how to be happy," Reagan disagreed, "sometimes people forget or get so sad they can't let themselves be very happy."

"In that case, I'd say Payton has had a total memory loss," Colin frowned, "she's so busy being unhappy that she does her best to make everyone else feel the same way. "

Reagan shook her head. "She's all alone in that big house. It's terrible to be that alone. I feel sorry for her."

Colin looked at the young girl next to him and wondered how someone so young could have so much insight. He'd heard people say a lot of things about Payton McAllister, but no one had ever said they felt sorry for her. This kid was tough, tougher than he had expected. He had a feeling 'ol' Payton' was in for quite a time with this little one. Yep, the Wall Street Warrior was about to meet her match. He turned the car off the freeway and headed toward South Hampton.

NINE

Colin glanced at his watch as the black wrought iron gate that lead to Mac an Bhaird creaked open, five-o-clock exactly. He let out a long breath and drummed his fingers on the dashboard in front of the steering wheel. In Battery Park, he knew, Payton McAllister was locking the doors on her office. If traffic was light she could be home by seven. He smiled at the young girl who smiled back at him with a worried look that should have been reserved for someone much older and with a lifetime of troubles on her mind.

Reagan watched as the large family symbol, that strange gold circle with the four blue marks, split evenly and fell apart slowly and the large gate opened as if it were giving a long yawn. She unconsciously reached to her chest and felt the cold metal disk that hung around her neck. She liked to make sure it was safe and sound, she needed its strange burst of strength. Colin sighed and she wondered if he was as scared as she was. She wondered if maybe the lawyer had made a terrible mistake in bringing her here. He was smiling but she wondered what was behind that smile.

When the gate was fully open, Colin stepped on the gas and eased the car down the long driveway to the main house. Reagan watched as the trees slipped past and thought what a nice shady lane this must be in the summer. Now the trees stood bare and cold like starving soldiers lining the path to a deserted castle. She looked out across the lawn and noticed how the ocean seemed to peek over the small mounds of land. As the line of trees sloped off into shrubbery, Colin turned onto the circular drive that would bring them to the front doors of 'her' house. She marveled at the large fountain that stood in the center of the circle. Its waters stilled to prevent freezing in the winter weather. The car came to a stop at the front entrance. Colin turned the key and the engine's gentle hum fell quiet. Reagan leaned forward and looked at the great house, her warm breath making fog on the cool window. Colin had already gotten out and hurried around the vehicle to open the door for her. She got out slowly never taking her eyes from the building.

It was faced with dark stone that reminded her of the side of a great fortress. The large double door was deep red with two large brass knockers placed in the center of each. A small semicircular window was cut into the top of each and a long frosted window ran down the side of either panel. There was a small porch. Two white marble columns supported its roof. On either side of the door was a large picture window; the heavy dark draperies inside pulled tightly closed. She looked to the roof and noticed a small flat area sectioned off with a short railing. There she could just make out a telescope. 'Widow's watch,' she thought to herself as Colin lead up the four slick marble steps that lead to the door. She squeezed his hand without even realizing she did. Colin pressed the button on the side of the door and from far inside she hear the echo of a bell, a ship's bell. She'd heard that sound before and she knew it well. She looked up at the large brass doorknockers and told herself they were probably just for decoration. Colin rang the bell a second time and smiled down at her. He patted her hand gently and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Don't worry,' he assured her, "it will take a while for someone to get to the door." He no sooner finished the statement than the large door was pulled open.

"Mr. Walters!" The short middle aged woman began. "Miss Payton isn't home yet. She'll be at least an hour or more."

Colin smiled and stepped toward the open door. "I know, Marjorie. I'm not here to see Payton, this time." She stepped back and allowed him to enter. He pulled the child behind him and turned as Marjorie closed the door. He shook back his collar with one hand and noticed the rainwater dripping on the spotless floor. "Sorry about the mess, Marge." He grinned. Reagan suddenly thought the same and quickly managed to step onto the large mat that was placed inside the door.

"Why you're soaked, Mr. Walters!" She exclaimed as she reached for his coat. "And in only that short distance from your car, too. This weather has been miserable. Let me get you a cup of coffee to warm you. Will you be staying for supper?" The housekeeper rambled on as she took the tall young man's coat and shook it a bit then walked to a large closet to retrieve a wooden hanger. She placed the garment on it then hung it inside. "And your young friend? She's just as drenched. Here child, let me have that coat and, oh my, you should probably remove those wet shoes and let me dry your stockings as well." She moved toward the girl.

Reagan looked down at her feet noticing for the first time how wet they had gotten in the short walk from Colin's car. She smiled weakly at the matronly woman who reached for and removed her coat. Marjorie had been very nice about not mentioning the bruise on Reagan's cheek, but Reagan noticed the quick wince the woman had made when she first saw it.

"Oh, I didn't hurt you, did I?" Marjorie asked noticing the sling on the child's arm.

Reagan shook her head. She slipped the wet oxfords off her feet and bent to pick up her shoes.

"Marjorie." Colin said softly. "This is Reagan. Reagan McAllister, she'll be staying here for a while. She needs some time to…ah…re…relax, while I take care of some important business at her school." Colin winked at the housekeeper in that way that adults wink at one another when there is a lot more to the story but it would have to wait until the children were out of earshot.

Marjorie nodded slowly then turned back to the child, "Well, Miss Reagan then you will be staying for more than just supper. I'll have Henry bring your bags inside and you can get out of those clothes."

Reagan suddenly realized she had no other clothes, no bags, no things, nothing that was hers. All of her 'things' were left at Brisbey and all of the things she could call her own had disappeared with the lovely apartment she shared with her parents. She wondered what had become of her books and her dolls and her paintings and everything she had collected and held dear in her short twelve years, but at Brisbey there was no one to ask.

"Um, we had to leave in a bit of a hurry." Colin explained. "I'll pick up her things tomorrow. I have some unfinished business there as well."

"Hmmm," Marjorie put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot on the floor. Reagan shuddered remembering Miss Thorne's exact stance and what was likely to come after it. She was sure this Marjorie person was not going to like this situation one bit. She would be angry, she would probably shout, probably complain, probably… "Well, we'll have to find something then, won't we?" She smiled. "I'm sure there is something of Miss Payton's lying about in some closet that will suit our needs until you bring the rest. Mr. Walter's you know where the study is. Help yourself to coffee or I don't think Miss Payton would mind if you had something from her bar. " She cocked her head in the direction of the study and reached out a hand to Reagan. "You can come with me sweetie, we'll find something."

Reagan gripped Colin's hand tighter and looked up at him silently asking him for reassurance. Hoping he would tell her what she needed to hear, hoping he would not go far, that he would be able to hear whatever was to happen. "Can't you come with me?" She pleaded sounding very young.

Colin squatted down to her level. "Don't worry, Slugger. Marjorie here is the housekeeper, she's been with the family a long, long, long, long…"

"Ok, that's enough longs!" Marjorie warned with a small laugh. "You'll have the child thinking I'm older than Methuselah!"

Colin laughed too, "well she's been around a while. She used to take care of Payton when she was younger." He leaned closed to Reagan's ear and whispered, "if you ask me, she still takes care of your sister." Reagan smiled just a little. "Anyway, Slugger, Marjorie will take good care of you. " He took her hand and placed it in the housekeeper's. Reagan let out the breath she was holding and resigned herself to the situation.

"Come on then, sweetie." Marjorie smiled again. "I'll show you to the guest room and you can wash up a bit. We'll get you out of those wet things and have you all warm and dry before supper. I'm sure Payton will be very surprised to see you." She glared at Colin with that statement and noticed the blush that formed at his collar and quickly rose to his face. The lawyer turned away and entered the large den to the left of the wide foyer. Reagan swallowed hard as he disappeared. Marjorie was leading her toward the huge staircase, she tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. "Maybe you can tell me how a sweet little thing like you came to have a shiner like that." Marjorie was saying. Reagan told herself not to think the worst, not to think this woman could be anything like Miss Thorne but somewhere between the death of her parents and the wrath of Alexis Thorne the child had misplaced her trust in people. Somewhere she began to believe she had no control over her life or where it would take her. She needed so much to rest her head on an understanding shoulder, to feel the arms of comfort surround her, and to rest in a place of compassion. She followed the housekeeper to the upper level of the grand house and into the long wide hallway at the top of the stairs.

Payton punched the elevator button for the forth time. "Where the hell is that jerk?!" She grumbled. It had been a gruesome day without Connie to do whatever it was she paid her to do. She never realized how important the woman was to the running of the giant corporation. Throughout the day Payton had fielded phone calls talking to people she neither knew nor could do anything to help. A number of those people had made it a point to tell her, believing she was the secretary, exactly what they thought of the CEO. She couldn't understand why some of those comments had hurt so much, why should she care what those fools thought of her? When she wasn't answering the blasted telephone she was searching, SEARCHING for everything from paper clips and rubber bands to personnel schedules and clientele contracts. Damn! Connie must have worked for the OSI! She had a filing system Elliot Ness couldn't crack. By noon she had seriously considered calling her missing right hand and begging for forgiveness. Stupid notion! If Connie was so stubborn as to walk away from the best job she would ever had that was her problem. Instead she dialed the number of the secretarial pool and asked for a replacement, a temporary replacement, to be sent to her office. THAT was a big mistake. They must have drawn straws to see who would be sacrificed to their supreme commander. The girl was so nervous and inept that she spent the better part of the afternoon in the ladies room spewing the contents of her stomach into the pristine executive porcelain. Payton had finally sent the girl home and then spent two hours searching for the phone number of the sanitation department in order to have the rest room sterilized. For the remainder of the afternoon she was forced to travel to the employee lounge to use their 'facilities'. She found it strange that no one even said hello. No, the room grew church quiet and cellar cold when she walked through. Luckily Payton had an amazing constitution and decided after one such trip that anything else could wait until she got home. Now it was 5:15, she was tired, miserable, hungry and just a little uncomfortable. She still had a long drive in the dark rainy weather before she could relax in a nice hot tub and forget the battle she had certainly not won this day. She punched the elevator button again, the door opened immediately with the familiar soft ping.

The tall lanky elevator operated smiled broadly, "Gooood evening, Miss Mc..."

"Shut up, fool!!" Payton barked as she stepped inside. "What the hell took you so long?"

The man's jaw snapped shut and he blinked once then shook off his employer's usual foul mood. "It's quittin' time boss. Lots of folks on their way to the ground floor." He explained, his voice still cheery. She moved to the back of the car and leaned against the dark paneled wall. She held her briefcase with both hands and shouldered her purse that matched the large case in size. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. She exhaled deeply. "Have ya in the garage in seconds Miss M." He pulled the door closed and reached for the button labeled 'G'.

"Eighth floor." She stated flatly. The employees were gone, she could make one last 'pit' stop before her long drive on the parkway.

The young man looked at her for a second and shrugged his shoulders, "eight it is, then." He hit the button marked '8' and the car began its slow descent. He held his hands behind his back and whistled softly. He glanced over his shoulder just once to see his employer 's eyes still closed. The car slowed and then stopped. He opened the door and waited a second before making the announcement he usually did at each stop. When she didn't move he piped, "Eighth floor."

Payton pushed herself away from the wall suddenly wondering how she could have fallen asleep so quickly and standing in an elevator no less! She dropped her bags to the floor and stepped out past the young man. "Wait here." She ordered as she continued on without looking at him. Donnie Fleischman had been the elevator operator in the Bhaird building for the past three years. Payton McAllister didn't even know his name, at least she never used it. Donnie leaned against the car's frame to hold the door open and whistled louder. The sounded echoed in the empty hallway. He watched as Payton walked to end of the hall and pushed open the last door. 'Guess hers is out of order.' He mused to himself. He changed the tune he was whistling to a sea chantey he had heard some of the older sailors on the docks sing. A few minutes later he heard the door shut and Payton's footsteps as she walked back toward the elevator.

"Everything…" he started to joke.

"Don't even think about it." She warned casting a sideways glance at him that actually made him feel a chill run down his spine. It was true, the woman could make your blood run cold. He pulled the door closed and delivered her to the garage without another word, except to say good night but she didn't even seem to hear that.

Payton stepped from the elevator directly to her car. Executive privilege to have the parking space right next to the elevator. That damn fool perpetually happy elevator operator, (what's his name?), said something to her as she left the car. 'Probably some other inane comment,' she thought as she opened the car door and slid into the seat. She tossed her purse and case on the opposite side and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. Unless a small click counted. She stepped on the clutch and moved the shift a bit to be sure it was in neutral and tried again. Again nothing but a small click and a bit of a purring sound. Payton clenched her teeth and let loose a string of cursing that would embarrass most of the longshoremen on this side of the island. She got out of the car slowly and slammed the door. The sound echoed in the large garage like a gunshot. She kicked the car in a useless gesture of frustration. She pulled the door handle to retrieve her purse and found it locked tight with her keys hanging snugly in the ignition. The second blast of cussing would embarrass ALL of the longshoremen.

An hour later Payton McAllister was very familiar with Donnie Fleischman. She had buzzed the elevator again and waited 10 minutes for him to return. He listened patiently as she ranted and raved over the situation then calmly told her he could open the car but he was no mechanic. A quick trip to the storage area netted one wire coat hanger that the young man bent and twisted until he was satisfied with its new shape. All of this time he babbled on about his intent to finish college when he had enough money saved and why he hadn't finished in the first place and how his mother needed the extra money since his father had taken ill and how he found this job in the city close to the school he wanted to attend and every other aspect of his life. Payton leaned against the elevator door and yawned. She wondered if anyone would notice if she accidentally knocked this jerk into the harbor. Donnie poked the long wire in between the car's frame and the window and had the door open in a few seconds. He reached in and retrieved the keys dropping them into Payton's hand with a satisfied smirk.

"You left your lights on." He announced.

"I did not! I am not that stupid!" Payton countered and pushed the young man aside to peer inside her car. Sure enough the headlamp switch was in the on position. She let out an exasperated sigh. 'What else could possibly happen?' Donnie made the trip to the penthouse with her and for the first time walked into the 'BIG' office. He listened as Payton banged, slammed and cussed her way around the secretary's desk searching for the auto club's phone number. He offered her help but jumped back against the doorframe when he actually hissed at him. From that point of safety he suggested she call information and get the number from an operator. She stared at him for a very long moment and he thought that maybe he would just go wait in the safety of the elevator car. He could actually feel her hands around his neck, he swallowed hard and rubbed his hand there just imagining what she could do. She picked up the phone without taking her eyes off of him and clicked the button on top a few times. A few minutes later they were on their way back to the garage to wait for the tow truck. It was a quiet trip.

Donnie insisted on keeping her company until the auto club arrived and jumped the car's battery. She showed her to a small office that she didn't even know existed and offered her a cup of coffee from a small thermos he had there. She refused but he insisted and she found herself seated on an overturned shipping crate drinking coffee from a red plastic thermos cup. It was almost funny. Donnie started prattling about some nonsense. She took a deep breath and cast a look at him that would turn men to stone. His mouth snapped shut. She nodded with an evil smirk and sipped the hot liquid.

By 6:45 she was on the road putting the day from hell far behind. All of this nonsense was over. At home was peace, quiet, a hot bath and warm meal. She would forget the war of today and concentrate on tomorrow. Maybe Connie would be over her stubborn streak by tomorrow and she would come in begging for her job back. She'd make her squirm, make her plead, but in the end she'd give it back. Hell! She needed that woman! The wipers thumped out a steady rhythm as she left the city and turned on to the long dark stretch that would take her home.