Circles Collide

Chapter 22: The New Life

Coos Bay, Oregon

December 29, 1997

Cadence Elizabeth Kingsley—who was four weeks and one day old on this day and was now routinely called Caydee by her parents and almost everyone else who knew her—lay contentedly in her father’s arms as he sat before a mixing board in the main room of Blake Studios Studio A. She was dressed in a warm, fuzzy green onesie and had a red pull-down cap covering the top of her head and her ears to combat the perpetual chill of the studio. Her gray-green eyes looked up at his face and she enjoyed the gentle, almost subconscious rocking he was imparting to her as he listened to the tracks playing through his headset. Jake had turned the external speaker on the board up a bit, allowing her to hear what was playing in the headsets. They had found that she tended not to cry or fuss much if there was music—any kind of music, even Matt’s heavy metal sound—playing.

Matt sat to Jake’s right, a pair of cans on his own head. Rory, one of the studio techs assigned to Project Tisdale, sat on Jake’s left, his hands hovering over the switches and dials. Inside one of the isolation rooms, on the other side of a thick pane of soundproof glass, Corban Slate, Matt’s rhythm guitarist, sat on a stool, his Brogan Troposphere electric guitar in his hands. He was strumming out an overdub of the chorus for Matt’s title cut, Faithless, a clean strumming designed to help enhance the string-strike sound of the measure. They had been working on this for most of the afternoon and, since the Nerdlys were in the other studio working on Celia’s overdubs today, they had actually been progressing fairly well. But there was still something not quite right about what they were hearing.

Jake took his left hand off Caydee for a moment and made a throat cutting gesture to Rory. Rory reached down and pushed the master stop button on the board, instantly halting all the prerecorded tracks of the piece, leaving only the sound of Corban’s guitar. Once Corban heard this, he stopped his playing as well. He looked at them through the glass, a questioning look on his face. What did I fuck up this time? that face enquired.

Jake pushed the intercom button before him and spoke into the microphone. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Corban,” he told him. “I’m just not liking the way this is playing out. Hang for a few while we talk it over.”

Corban nodded his understanding.

“What did he fuck up?” Matt asked. “It sounded okay to me.”

“No fuck up,” Jake said, making no effort to watch his language or police the language of others in front of his daughter. He and Laura had pretty much decided that Caydee might as well get used to the world she lived in and the family she was being brought up in from the outset. And the word “fuck” was an integral part of that world and that family.

“Then what’s the deal?” Matt asked.

“Like I said, I just don’t like the way it’s playing out. The notes are too subtle. The listener won’t even be able to hear a difference unless Corban goes a little stronger on them. But if he does that, it will become too obvious that there are two instruments playing in unison.”

“Then what’s the point of doing it at all?” Matt asked. Though he had come a long way since the last Intemperance album and his Next Phase fiasco, he was still a staunch conservative when it came to overdubs.

“The chorus melodies will sound a little flat if we don’t get those string strikes in there,” Jake explained. “The tune would work without them, but not as well as with them.”

“What’s the fuckin’ answer then?” Matt asked, a hint of impatience in his voice, but controlled impatience.

Jake looked over at Corban for a moment and then back at Matt. “I think the problem is that he is using the same instrument he used on the basic track. It doesn’t sound any different, so it just blends in over the top.”

“He needs to use a different guitar then?” Matt asked.

“That’s right,” Jake said. “Preferably an acoustic electric or even a miked standard acoustic. Remember when we did I Am Time? We wanted the string strikes to come through, so I did the basic melody with my Brogan and overdubbed the string strikes with my Fender. It came out sounding pretty fuckin’ sweet.”

Matt nodded thoughtfully. At the time, he had been vehemently opposed to that particular overdub, but these days he was on record as agreeing that it had worked well. “Yeah,” he said. “That did work there. You did the same thing on a few of your solo tunes too.”

“I did,” Jake agreed. “I used the technique on Can’t Keep Me Down, Breaking Down Fast, and Teach Me. I’ve used it on quite a few of Celia’s tunes too. It’s tried and true.”

“All right,” Matt said. “I guess we can try this shit.”

“Cool,” Jake said. “Does Corban have an acoustic?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “I’ve never seen him with one. He sure as shit doesn’t have one here. He just has the Brogan and the Telecaster.”

“Hmm,” Jake said, giving an extra little motion to his rocking because Caydee was starting to fuss a little now that the music had stopped. He leaned forward and pushed the intercom button again. “Come on out for a few, Corban.”

Corban nodded and set down his guitar. He took off his cans and then walked to the door. A moment later he was in the room with them. “What’s up?” he asked.

As was his habit, Jake let Matt explain the issue at hand, thus preserving the illusion that Matt was actually in charge. It was an illusion that fooled no one—not even Matt—but that helped maintain the always fragile cease-fire.

“This overdub ain’t working with you playing the same guitar you used for the basic,” Matt said. “We think if you use an acoustic it’ll sound better.”

“Why would that make a difference?” Corban asked.

“An acoustic will produce a slightly different timbre than your Brogan played clean,” Jake said. “The subtle difference will make the string strikes stand out instead of being buried.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Corban said, “but I don’t have an acoustic.”

“You don’t have one at all?” Jake asked.

Corban shook his head. “Nope, not since I was in junior high and got my first electric.”

Jake nodded. That did explain a lot. Though Corban was quite excellent on the distorted electric, having him play clean notes on Faithless had been a struggle to some degree. Most guitar players and bassists—Matt was a notable exception—learned to play on an acoustic initially and would generally retain that skill to some degree, but lack of practice and focusing primarily on distorted chords did tend to sap that muscle memory over time and Corban had to relearn the technique once they entered the studio and Matt agreed to go with the clean notes on the piece. “I have one in the other studio,” he told Corban. “It’s my Ibanez acoustic electric and I’ve been using it for overdubs on a few of Celia’s tracks. Let me go grab it and we’ll see how you do with it.”

“All right,” Corban said doubtfully.

Jake took off his headphones and set them on the board. He then stood up and turned to Matt. “Here,” he said, holding out his daughter to the guitarist. “Hold Caydee for me while I go get it.”

Matt’s eyes widened and he actually recoiled a bit. “Hold it?” he asked.

“Hold her,” Jake corrected. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Matt shook his head. “I’m not into that kinda shit, dude,” he said.

“Holding a baby for two or three minutes is not some kind of shit,” Jake said. “Just take her. Hold her like I was. She’s not going to bite you. She doesn’t even have teeth.”

“What if she pisses or shits on me?” Matt asked.

“She has a diaper on,” Jake said patiently. “Trust me, Matt. You can do this.”

Reluctantly, Matt took the small bundle from Jake. He looked down at her for a moment and she looked up at him.

“Don’t hold her two feet away from you,” Jake said. “Put her against your chest and support her head with your arm.”

Gingerly, he did as requested. Caydee started to fuss a little.

“What’s wrong with her?” Matt demanded.

“She likes to be rocked,” Jake said. “Just sway back and forth a little. That soothes her.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matt muttered, but he did as told. Caydee, who was used to a variety of people holding her quite frequently, immediately settled down.

“You see?” Jake said. “Just keep doing that. I’ll be right back.” With that, he turned and headed for the main studio door, letting the smirk he had been hiding come forth now that Matt could not see it.

Jake walked through the hall from one end of the building to another, passing the cafeteria and the main reception area on the way. He then punched in the code to enter the large door that guarded the entrance to Studio B. It opened and he walked into the main room. In here, Celia and the Nerdlys were sitting at the mixing board with Collette, the tech who had been assigned to Celia’s project. Inside one of the isolation rooms was Laura, who was apparently working on a retake of one of the saxophone tracks. Celia was the only one who looked up at his entrance.

“Hey, Jake,” she greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to grab my Ibanez,” he said. “We need it for one of the overdubs.”

“Oh, I see,” Celia said. “Where’s Caydee?”

Jake chuckled a little. “I have Matt holding her,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “Matt? Holding Caydee? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“He’s not going to hurt her,” Jake said. “And the experience might even be good for him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I suppose,” she said doubtfully.

Jake opened the storage room and stepped inside. His candy-apple red Ibanez was hanging on a hook. He took it down and gave it strum. It was slightly out of tune since it had not been played since before the Christmas break. And it would also have to be sound checked. That was no big deal, however, since the Nerdlys were over here and would not be able to prolong the effort.

Jake saw that they were now between takes in the studio. He waved at Laura and blew her a kiss. She returned the gesture with a smile of affection. He then went back out the door and retraced his steps back to Studio A, where he found Matt still holding Caydee against his chest, rocking back and forth and looking down at her.

“How’s she doing?” Jake asked him.

“She’s just lying there looking at me,” he said. “If I stop this rocking shit, she starts getting mad and making noises and squirming.”

“Yep,” Jake said. “You just described Miss Cadence to a T.”

“Take her back now,” he said.

Jake chuckled again. “Sure,” he said. He handed the Ibanez to Corban and then took Caydee from Matt. Automatically he began rocking her. “It needs to be tuned a little,” Jake told the guitarist. “Go plug in and I’ll give you the reference.”

“Right,” said Corban, who was looking at the bulky Ibanez as if he had never seen such a thing. “This is a nice guitar.”

“It is,” Jake agreed. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Corban went back into the isolation booth and plugged in the guitar. Jake went over to a small electric piano that sat on a platform behind the mixing board. Matt had no piano or synthesizer in his music, of course, but they used the instrument daily as a reference for tuning the guitars. Jake powered it up and the tech flipped the switch that would allow its output to flow into the headphones. The tech gave a thumbs up to Jake. Jake then gave an enquiring look to Corban. Corban gave him a thumbs up. Jake nodded and began to rhythmically push the key two to the right of middle-C on the keyboard. This key produced the exact pitch that a properly tuned high E string on a guitar would make. Corban listened, made the adjustment on the tuning knob while striking the open string and then nodded. Jake then began to push the key that matched pitch with the B-string and then the G, the D, the A, and the low-E. The process went quickly and they were done in only two minutes.

“All right,” Jake said, walking back over to his seat and sitting down. “That went easily enough.”

“Let’s hope the rest of this shit does too,” Matt said.

And, of course, it did not. Corban made it through the sound check without issue, but when they asked him to start playing the melody they were actually interested in, his fretting and strumming were hesitant and coarse on the unfamiliar instrument. They kept having him do it over and over again on the theory that he would get better with repetition. He did get better, but not good enough for recording quality sound. And he flubbed a note or two almost every time. It seemed liked it was going to take a considerable amount of time before he was able to churn out three entire chorus repetitions perfectly.

“Maybe we just do without the fuckin’ string strikes,” Matt suggested forty-five minutes into the experiment.

“That’s one option,” Jake said slowly. “But maybe there’s another.”

“What other option?” Matt asked. “I could give it a shot but I’m not any better at playing acoustic than he is. Probably worse at it, truth be told.”

“I could do it,” Jake suggested.

“You?” Matt asked, surprised.

“Why not?” Jake asked. “I’ve been told I play a decent acoustic guitar a time or two. And that is my instrument. I’m familiar with it.”

“You want to play guitar on my CD?” Matt asked, just for clarity. “After all those fuckin’ rumors and reports about Intemperance getting back together because you and I are working together?”

Matt did have a point. The rumors were flying around the music and entertainment industry about an Intemperance reunion. They had never really had any hope of keeping the fact that they were working together secret. The entire town of Coos Bay knew that Jake Kingsley and Matt Tisdale were both in town at the same time. And the only reason they would both be in town at the same time was to use Blake Studios. Pauline and Matt had both vehemently denied that they were recording Intemperance material in the studio or that there were any plans for a reunion, but the media was not buying it. Eventually they had been forced to come clean and announce that Jake and Matt were, in fact, working on a project together, but that it was Matt’s latest solo effort and not an Intemperance CD. The media people dutifully reported this information, but it was clear they did not believe it. They continued to write stories and air gossip shows about a possible reunion of the infamous “death metal” group.

“It’s not like I’m really playing guitar for you,” Jake said, putting a little extra rock into his sway because Caydee was getting fussy again. “I’m just throwing down an overdub that no one will really even notice in the final product. And it’s not like I’m going to be taking credit for it on the CD insert. It’s just an efficient way to get something done.”

“None of that shit matters if the word gets out,” Matt said. “If someone hears that you played so much as a single note in this studio, that you even picked up a fuckin’ guitar at all, it’s just gonna add fuel to the fire and make those motherfuckers come sniffing around even harder.”

“That is true,” Jake said, nodding thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll just have to keep word from leaking out.” He turned to the technician. “Rory, if I step into that booth and strum out an overdub for Matt, are you going to tell anyone about it?”

“No way,” Rory said. “What happens in the studio stays in the studio.”

“I’m talking no one,” Jake said. “Not your girlfriend, not your preacher, not your mom.”

“Well,” Rory said, “I’m between girlfriends currently, I’m an atheist so I have no preacher, and my mom lives in Syracuse and I talk to her as little as I can get away with because she likes to lecture me about my choice of career. But, in answer to your question, no, I will tell no one. Not even Obie if you don’t want me to.”

“You can tell Obie,” Matt said. “He knows how to keep his fuckin’ mouth shut. For everyone else though, you take that shit to the fuckin’ grave.”

“To the grave,” Rory promised.

“All right then,” Matt said. “I guess we give this shit a shot.” He looked sharply at Caydee, who was now quite fussy and inconsolable in Jake’s arms and starting to make little hitching cries. “What the fuck’s the matter with that kid?”

“She’s hungry,” Jake said. By this point in the game, he knew the difference between the hungry cry and the soiled diaper cry and the I’m-just-going-to-prevent-Mom-and-Dad-from-sleeping cry.

“Fuckin’ feed her then,” Matt said.

Jake laughed. “I don’t have the right accessories for that,” he said. “Let me go run her back to Laura and then I’ll go in the booth.”

“Oh ... right,” Matt said, now looking at Caydee with a little envy. She got to suck on Jake’s old lady’s tits on a regular basis. “You go get the kid fed. I’ll pull Corban out of there and start setting up for you.”

“Right,” Jake said. He pulled off his headphones and left the studio again. He ducked into one of the smaller offices along the path. It had been assigned to the Kingsleys as a feeding and diaper changing station. Caydee’s big green diaper bag was sitting on the desk next to a changing pad. Jake laid the baby down on the pad and quickly unfastened her onesie. She squirmed and continued to cry as he did so, but he was now quite practiced at this maneuver. Holding her by the feet, he opened the sticky fasteners on the disposable diaper (“fuck the environment,” Jake was on record as saying when asked by one of the entertainment reporters if they were going to use reusable cloth diapers to help protect the environment) and opened it up. The diaper was wet but not soiled. He was glad. He wiped her down with a baby wipe (also disposable) from a large tub that sat next to the diaper bag. He pulled the wet diaper off, bundling it up with the baby wipe inside, and tossed it into the waste basket. He then pulled out another diaper and quickly installed it. Finally, he fastened the onesie back up and continued his trip to Studio B.

Laura was still in the isolation booth blowing her horn when he entered. He could not tell what tune they were working on because the output was only flowing through the headsets, but he knew from the morning briefing that they had been planning to do retakes for both The End of the Journey and When You’re Lonely today. Everyone was concentrating on their tasks and did not notice his entry until the sound of Caydee’s cries reached their ears. Celia turned and looked.

“Feeding time?” she asked. She was pretty well-versed in Caydee’s different cries as well.

“Yep,” Jake said. “Sorry. Gonna have to borrow those boobs for a little bit.”

“Understandable,” Celia said.

They finished up the take they were working on—this only took another thirty seconds before Nerdly heard something he did not like—and then Celia pushed the intercom button. “Come on out, Teach,” she said. “Someone needs a little snack.”

Laura nodded and took off her headset, setting it on the stool. She set her saxophone down on the floor and then came through the door and into the main room. She walked immediately over and took Cadence from Jake’s arms.

“Awww, is my little girl hungry again?” she asked in the high-pitched voice that women used when talking to babies. “Do you need some num-nums?”

“It would seem she does,” Jake said. “I just changed her on the way here, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said with a smile. She had bags under her eyes from sleep deprivation (so did Jake) but the smile lit up her face. She turned to Celia. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so hopefully.”

“Take your time,” Celia said. “I’ll have Eric come in and we’ll start working on those overdubs we have planned.”

“Sounds good,” Laura said. She turned back to Jake. “Can I bring her back to you after she’s fed?”

“If you can keep her with you that would work better,” Jake said. “I’m ... uh...” He lowered his voice to keep the tech from overhearing him. “I’m going in the booth to strum out a melody overdub for Matt.”

“Really?” she asked. “You and Matt, back together at last?”

“Very funny,” he said. “Are you cool keeping her for the rest of the day?”

“Sure,” Laura said. “C can hold her when I go back in the booth to finish up, can’t you C?”

“You know it,” Celia said with a smile of her own. She absolutely adored holding Caydee. “How did it go when Matt held her? Was it a life changing experience?”

“Matt held her?” Laura asked, amused at the thought. “How did that happen?”

“I had to come get my guitar out of the closet,” he said. “I really should have taken a picture of him and Caydee. It would’ve been good blackmail material.”

“You got that right,” Celia said.

“All right, all right, Little Miss Caydee,” Laura told the crying baby. “Let’s do this thing.”

“See you in a bit,” Celia said.

Laura gave Jake a kiss on the lips. It was not the normal peck of affection but a lingering, wet kiss that stopped just short of the tongue coming out.

“Mmmm,” Jake said, feeling a little thrill of lust sweeping through him. “What’s that for?”

“I think I’ll be up for a little fun and games tonight,” she said.

Jake nodded appreciably. They were still two weeks out from being able to resume traditional sexual relations, but there were other things they could do. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said.

“What about me?” Celia whispered quietly. “Got room for one more?”

Laura gave her a saucy smile. “I think we can accommodate you,” she whispered back. She looked at Jake. “Assuming that’s all right with you, sweetie?”

Jake gave his mock sigh of reluctant acceptance of an unpleasant task. “Yeah, I guess that will be okay,” he said with a mock roll of the eyes.

With that, Laura and Caydee headed for the empty office. Celia gave Jake a last smile and returned to the mixing board. Jake, feeling the pleasant glow of sexual anticipation, went back to Studio A. He did not feel as tired all of a sudden.

Since they were primarily working on retakes and overdubs by this point, it was not necessary for the entire band to go to the studio each day, just those who would be working on something. As such, only Celia, Jake, Laura, and Eric had gone in on this day. Tomorrow it would be Celia, Jake, Eric, and Liz, giving Laura and Caydee a day off. Coop, Charlie, and Little Stevie had all been sent back to their respective homes since all of the guitar, bass, and drum tracks had been laid down. There was usually no need for bass or drum overdubs and, while there were lots of guitar overdubs to be done, Jake and/or Celia were both quite capable of doing them themselves.

While Matt and his band (and Jim the paramedic) climbed into the Suburban for the trip back to their rented house (so far there had been no further visits from the cops, but that was always a possibility when dealing with Matt) the members of Celia’s entourage climbed into the 1995 Ford Econoline van KVA owned just for such trips. Jake was behind the wheel while Laura and Caydee sat in the middle row. Celia sat next to Jake and Eric and the Nerdlys took the back seats. The drive back to the cliffside house was a short one, only ten minutes, and the sun was just setting as they pulled into the driveway.

Liz had cooked dinner for them since she had the day off. She had roasted a couple of whole chickens in the oven and served them with mashed potatoes, gravy, and steamed cauliflower. Everyone tore into the meal except Cadence, who had her own meal of fresh breast milk while everyone else except Liz did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. After feeding her daughter, Laura then handed the baby off to Jake and poured herself a glass of chilled chardonnay. Dr. Michaels, Caydee’s pediatrician, had told Laura that one glass of wine or one mixed drink per night would not be harmful to Caydee’s growth and development (but he advised strongly against any marijuana use while breastfeeding) so Laura made a point to have her allotment and thoroughly enjoy it.

“I’m going to get her changed into her jammies and see if she’ll sleep for a bit,” Jake said.

“Sounds good,” Laura said, settling down on the couch with her wine. “Let me give her a kiss before you go.”

Jake brought her over and Laura gave her a kiss right between her nose and her eye. She told her that mommy loved her. Cadence was not quite capable of a genuine smile just yet, but she managed to convey her contentment nonetheless.

Jake carried her to the master suite of the house. The suite had a huge walk-in closet and they had set up a bedroom for her in there. A portable crib sat in the middle of the walk space and a mobile of stars, planets, and musical notes hung directly over the top of it. There was a small dresser with her clothing and her diaper supplies in and on it. Jake put her down on the mattress and stripped her out of her onesie. He changed her diaper—this one was soiled liberally but it was the relatively inoffensive breast milk poop—and then dressed her in white footie pajamas that had the motto TREBLE MAKER on it above a graphic of a treble clef and a wavy line of musical notes (these PJs had been a gift from Celia). Through this all, Caydee looked up at her father in contentment, not fussing or fighting or crying. For the most part, she really was a good baby, much easier to take care of than they had any right to expect.

“Good night, little Caydee,” Jake whispered affectionately as he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Sleep tight and sleep long.” He knew, of course, that she would sleep tight, but it would not be long. On a good night she would stay down for three hours maximum before waking them up for changing and feeding.

He made sure she was firmly on her back and then covered her with a blanket and tucked it around her. He gave her one last kiss and then turned off the closet light, plunging the room into darkness. He left the closet, leaving the door open, and then left the suite, leaving that door open as well. They had no baby monitor for her since such devices were absurdly easy to illicitly monitor from several hundred yards away. They most certainly did not want some reporter using a scanner to overhear conversations and goings-on in the Kingsley bedroom.

Jake made his way back to the family room. Celia and Laura were sitting next to each other on the couch, both enjoying their glass of wine while Jeopardy played on the television set. The Nerdlys were on the computer, fiddling with their website and talking amongst themselves. This was just as well. The Nerdlys were persona non grata when it came to watching Jeopardy with others because they knew all the answers and would shout them out before anyone else had a chance. Eric had already retreated to his room for the night. Liz was out in the hot tub, relaxing with a glass of wine of her own. Everyone knew she was missing Little Stevie.

Jake mixed up a rum and coke at the bar and then carried it over to the recliner next to the couch. Jeopardy had just gone to commercial and Celia had muted the sound.

“Did Caydee go down okay?” Laura asked.

“Yep,” Jake said, reclining the chair and putting his feet up. “Just like that.”

“And you changed her, right?” she asked.

“Yes, I changed her,” he said patiently. “I’m a veteran now, remember?”

Laura giggled. “We both are at this point in the game,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s already been four weeks now. We have her one-month appointment next week! Can you believe that?”

“The time is flying,” Jake agreed. “I still remember that first day home with her.”

Laura laughed warmly. “Wasn’t that insane?” she asked. “Thank God Elsa was there. You too, C.”

“I will remember that day for the rest of my life,” Celia said with a laugh of her own.

Nothing terribly dramatic had happened on that first day home for little Caydee (they had started calling her Caydee while still in the hospital with her) it had just been a bit on the surreal side. Less than twenty-four hours after she emerged into the world, Dr. Niven and Dr. Michaels had told them to take her home. Take her home! By themselves! With no instruction manual or training classes! And they had done so, both of them feeling decidedly strange that the medical community was just letting them take this little life home to take care of. And then they arrived there and carried little Caydee inside the house in the carrier part of her car seat. And they sat her on the coffee table in the dining room. And they just stared at her, wondering what they were supposed to do next.

She was sleeping at the time, her little eyes closed, her respiration regular, her little body bundled up in swaddling blankets and her little hat on her head.

“What do we do now?” Jake asked. “Should we put her in her crib?”

“Maybe you should feed her, Teach,” Celia suggested.

“But she’s asleep,” Laura replied. “Dr. Michaels said there is no need to wake her up to feed her. She’ll let me know when she’s hungry.”

“Maybe her diaper needs to be changed,” Jake suggested.

“Shouldn’t we let her sleep if she’s sleeping?” Laura asked.

“I don’t know,” Jake said. “I thought you women were supposed to know about this shit.”

“I know as much as you do,” Laura said testily.

“Which would be very little, apparently,” Jake shot back.

They continued to stare at her. She continued to do nothing but sleep in the car carrier on the coffee table. God only knew how long they might have just sat there staring at her, but finally the door opened and in strolled Elsa. “Is there a new member of the household in here that I have yet to be introduced to?” she asked, a large smile on her face.

“Yeah, she’s right here, Elsa,” Jake told her. “Meet Cadence Elizabeth Kingsley, who has already been given the nickname Caydee.”

“Katie?” Elsa asked, raising her eyebrows a bit.

“Not Katie, Caydee,” Laura told her. “C-A-Y-D-E-E. It just seems to fit her.”

“Hmmph,” Elsa grunted. “If it’s all the same to you, I will continue to call her Cadence. I am not a proponent of diminutive nicknames.”

“But you’ve been calling me Jake all these years,” Jake said. “My real name is Jacob, you know.”

“I know that now,” Elsa said. “At the time I first met you I did not know that, however. Jake stuck. And the only one who calls you Jacob is your mother when she is upset with you.”

“That is true,” Jake agreed.

Elsa came closer and looked down at the bundle of joy in the car carrier. She smiled at the sight of the baby but then frowned. “Why is she still sitting in that device?” she asked.

“Uh ... because we’re not really sure what we’re supposed to do with her now that we’re home,” Laura told her.

“You’re supposed to take her out of the car carrier,” Elsa said. “She is your daughter, not a sack of groceries that you put away when you find the time and inclination. Unbuckle her from that thing and take her out.”

“And then what?” Jake asked.

“And then you check her to see if she is wet or soiled,” Elsa said. “If she is, you change her. If she is not, you hold her—or rather, you let me hold her since it has been many years since I last held an infant in my arms. And then, when you are done holding her, you put her in her crib and see if she wants to sleep.”

“Oh ... I see,” Jake said slowly.

“That does make sense,” Laura agreed.

“Doesn’t it?” Elsa asked.

Now, that first day seemed comical to them, absurd even. But they still remembered the anxiety of being brand-new at the parenting game. And they had had no idea of the sleep deprivation that was about to dominate their lives, no idea of how fundamentally their old lives had ended and their new lives as parents had begun.

Jeopardy came to an end and Wheel of Fortune started. Jake was not a fan of Wheel of Fortune, so he decided this was his cue. “I’m going to go shower up,” he told the ladies. “After that, I’m going to lay down and catch a little sleep before the ten o’clock Caydee call.”

“Don’t go too far asleep,” Laura said impishly. “We have some business to take care of.”

“I hope you’re not referring to vaginal-penile copulation,” Nerdly suddenly spoke up from across the room. “It is understood by the medical community that the vaginal passage is not completely healed from the trauma of childbirth until six weeks postpartum.”

Laura blushed furiously at his words. Jake did a little as well. They had thought that they had been speaking quietly and that the Nerdlys would not be able to hear them. They had been wrong.

“Uh ... yeah, thanks for the advisement, Nerdly,” Jake said. “We weren’t planning to do ... uh ... you know, any of that kind of thing.”

“That is appropriate then,” Nerdly said with a nod. “If you like, I can give you some suggestions as to what type of sexual activity it is safe to engage in at this stage of the postpartum experience.”

“Yeah ... that won’t really be necessary,” Jake said. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Watch out for the breasts,” offered Sharon.

“The breasts?” asked Laura, still blushing. “What about them?”

“They will tend to squirt milk out during sexual relations,” Sharon explained. “Particularly at the moment of orgasm—uh ... your orgasm, not Jake’s. I would suggest you keep your brassiere on and your nipple pads in place.”

Jake and Laura looked at each other for a moment. They had not thought about that. The only sexual activity they had engaged in since Caydee’s birth had been a blowjob that Laura had given him a few days before. She had noticed a little more milk than normal in her nipple pads after the encounter but had not attributed it to the act itself.

“Uh ... okay,” Laura said. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome,” Sharon said. She and Nerdly then went back to perusing their computer screen and talking among themselves about hyperlinks and access stats.

“Well then,” Laura said. “Since we’re apparently not being coy, I guess I’ll just join you in the shower now instead of waiting the requisite period.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said with a smile.

They got up. “Good night, C,” Jake told the singer. “See you in the morning.”

“Right,” Celia said with a little smile. “In the morning.”

And, as before, they were fooling no one but themselves. But since they were fooling themselves, Celia waited the better part of forty-five minutes (and two more glasses of wine) before she made a big show of yawning and stretching and then declaring that maybe she would make an early night of it as well. She told the Nerdlys good night and then poked her head out on the balcony and told Liz goodnight as well. She then went upstairs to the secondary bedroom she stayed in and stripped off her clothes. She showered quickly, concentrating primarily on her armpits, breasts, and groin region. She was eagerly anticipating the coming encounter. After all, she had not had any sex except masturbation since that last encounter a few days before Laura went into labor. She was quite horny and hoped that Jake’s erection would be inside of her body soon.

After drying off, she slipped on her white robe and then carefully opened the door to her room. She looked out into the hallway, finding the coast to be clear. From downstairs, she could hear the sound of the television. She stepped out into the hall and carefully closed her bedroom door behind her. She then made the short walk down the hall to the double doors of the master suite. She opened the left side door just enough to slip into the room. She then closed it quietly behind her and engaged the lock.

Jake and Laura were on the bed. Jake was naked, his penis erect and being stroked lightly by Laura’s hand. Laura was wearing a long t-shirt over her maternity bra. Her legs were bare and she had no underwear on. Jake’s hand was playing idly with her wet, freshly shaven vagina. The sight of the two of them got her juices running even stronger.

“You started without me,” she said with a pout.

“Just a few preliminaries,” Jake said.

“We had to find something to do while we waited for you,” Laura said.

Celia giggled a little and then shucked her robe, showing them her naked body for the first time in more than a month. She dropped the robe to the floor and then walked to the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure what the plan is here, or if there is a plan,” she said, “but I just want it known that at some point I really could use that dick in my pussy.”

“We can make that happen,” Laura said with a smile. “At least someone will get some use out of it.”

“You know I’d fuck you if I could,” Jake said.

“I know, sweetie,” she said. “Now then, I want you both to know that I have had none of those secretions or leakage out of my hoo-hoo in more than a week now.”

“Uh ... okay,” Jake said slowly. “That’s good to know.”

“I’m telling you this for a reason,” Laura said. “I don’t care which one of you does it, or if you want to take turns, or what, but I want a mouth on my pussy and I want it there right now.”

Jake volunteered for the job. He went down between his wife’s legs and relished the taste, smell, and texture of her vagina on his mouth and tongue. He had missed the act of cunnilingus almost as much as the act of “penile-vaginal copulation”, as Nerdly put it. Laura certainly enjoyed his ministrations. She moaned and grew sweaty and flushed while Jake ate her and Celia tongue kissed her mouth and nibbled on her earlobes and neck. And, when she had her orgasm, they found that Sharon was right. So much milk came out of her breasts that the nipple pads became saturated and large wet spots appeared on her t-shirt.

“This is embarrassing,” she said, looking down at herself.

“Actually, it’s kind of hot, Teach,” Celia told her.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Celia assured her. “Now, is this the part where I get some dick?”

It was the part where she got some dick. Jake mounted her in the missionary position and began to thrust away inside of her while Laura sucked on her nipples and occasionally went up to give her a passionate tongue kiss. Celia moaned out an orgasm of her own and then Jake, who had been barely hanging on through the entire encounter, blasted a huge load of semen into her spasming chasm.

“All right then,” Laura said, her eyes shining lustfully for the first time in more than a month. “You know where I’m headed now.”

“Oh yeah, Teach,” Celia encouraged. “Eat it out of me. It’s so fucking hot when you do that.”

Laura went down between Celia’s legs and went to work. Jake went to work on Celia’s nipples with his mouth, occasionally giving her a kiss of passion of his own. Seeing his wife doing her work and feeling the lush body of Celia against him caused Little Jake to quickly get back in the game. He began to wonder what the etiquette was in this situation. Normally he would give Laura the second load. But Laura’s cooter was out of order currently. Was it okay to fuck Celia again? Or should he let Laura relieve the pressure with her mouth?

Laura solved the dilemma for him. She raised her head out of Celia’s crotch and looked at him. “I think I want you to try it,” she said.

“Try it?” he asked, not getting her. “Try what?”

“Your dick,” she said. “Put it inside of me.”

“In your pussy?” he asked.

“Of course my pussy,” she said testily. “Where else would you put it?”

“But we’re not supposed to do that for another two weeks,” he protested, though the idea was very appealing to him.

“What do those doctors know?” she asked, echoing words of wisdom from Ted, the former paramedic and current V-tach drummer. “Just do it slowly at first. If it hurts, I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Are you sure about this, Teach?” asked Celia, who was flushed and sweaty and a little frustrated at the interruption to her girly oral copulation encounter.

“I’m sure,” she said. “I want that dick inside of me. I need to be fucked.”

That was enough to convince Jake. He left his position at Celia’s breasts and went around behind his wife. Her vagina was swollen and dripping wet. He put himself carefully inside of her, just the tip at first. Even that minimal amount of entry felt incredible.

“How are you doing, hon?” he asked.

“It’s good,” she panted. “Put it the rest of the way in.”

He slid all the way inside. She sighed deeply as he buried himself.

“Still good?” he said.

“It’s fucking incredible,” she said. “Now fuck me.”

He fucked her. She put her mouth back down on Celia’s vagina and went back to work, grunting and groaning out her pleasure as she worked. Jake was gratified to find that her passage was just as tight as it had been before she had squished a baby through it. He had been a little worried about that.

He gave her two more orgasms—and Celia enjoyed two more as well—before he shot his second load of the night inside of her. She moaned loudly at the feel of it. Jake then had a little moment of panic when he realized he had just come inside of his wife and she was not currently taking her birth control pills. True, lactation was supposed to suppress ovulation to some degree, but they had been warned by Dr. Niven that it was only about seventy-five percent effective overall as a form of birth control.

As they all basked in the aftermath of the encounter—Jake in the middle, the milk rings on Laura’s shirt now quite large—Jake brought up his concern.

“It should be okay,” Laura said. “That seventy-five percent figure is for all women who are lactating and not using other means of birth control. I’m exclusively breastfeeding Caydee. The more you feed a baby with your boobs, the more effective it is at keeping you from ovulating.”

“Oh ... well ... that makes me feel better,” Jake said.

“But, since we have now resumed marital relations,” she said, “I guess I’d better start taking the pills again. I’m not ready to go through the whole pregnancy and new baby thing all over again.”

“Me either,” Jake said.

As if on cue, Cadence began to cry from her room in the walk-in closet. It was a combination of the I’m-wet cry and the I’m-hungry cry. They knew right away that she was not going to go back to sleep until she was changed and fed.

“She’s a little early tonight,” Laura observed with a good-natured sigh.

“Yep,” Jake said. “I’ll go get her.”

“On that note,” Celia said with a yawn, “I think I really will get myself to bed. Thanks for the fun.”

“Anytime,” Laura said with a smile. “Give me a kiss before you go.”

Celia got out of bed and leaned down to give her female lover a long kiss that involved a little tongue play. She then gave Jake a similar kiss and then picked up her robe. She put it on and wrapped it around herself.

“See you two in the morning,” she said. She then began the stealthy exit maneuver that she did not know she need not have bothered with.

Jake walked into Cadence’s room, still naked, and used some of her baby wipes to clean his hands and face. He then picked her up and put her on the changing table. She continued to cry loudly as he changed her diaper and refastened her jammies. Once changed, he carried her back into the bedroom. Laura had now stripped off her shirt and her maternity bra and was completely naked in the bed. She took the squalling baby and held her to her chest. Caydee immediately latched onto her left nipple and quieted down, leaving only the sound of her suckling. Jake watched for a few minutes, amazed at how quickly his vision of his wife’s body had turned from sexual to maternal. A man’s brain must be hardwired to make the distinction, he theorized.

He cuddled up next to Laura and enjoyed the feel of her warmth and the closeness of his child until Cadence had drank her fill. He then threw a washcloth onto his shoulder, took the baby from Laura, and put her in the burping position. He patted her back gently until she issued a resounding belch.

“That was a good one,” Laura observed.

“Yep,” Jake agreed.

He carried Caydee back to her crib and put her down on her back. He swaddled her and then covered her with a blanket. She fussed for a minute or two and then closed her eyes and went back to sleep. He turned off the light and went back to the bed. Laura was already asleep, laying on her side with the covers pulled up to her neck. Jake went to the bathroom to pee and then climbed in next to her, snuggling against her body and closing his eyes. Within ten minutes, he was asleep as well.

But not for long. One hundred and thirty-six minutes later, Cadence began to cry again. He dragged himself out of bed and they went through the feeding and changing ritual yet again.

The original deadline for KVA to be done in Blake Studios had been January 30, 1998. It had become apparent by the time that Jake and Laura returned to Coos Bay five days after Cadence’s birth that they were not going to be done in time. This deadline became even more unobtainable when Jake and Celia refused to cancel the planned Christmas break from December 23 through December 28^th. Jake had flown Matt and his band to Seattle so they could have some big city time during the break and then he, Laura, and Caydee had flown from Seattle to Pocatello to spend the holiday with Joey and family (they did, thankfully, stay in a hotel room instead of in Chase and Grace’s bedroom). Now, as 1997 expired and 1998 began, Obie agreed to extend KVA’s use of the studio for another six weeks beyond the original deadline. He did, of course, charge them time and a half hourly rate for the extension, but this was fair as he had to push back two other acts who had been scheduled to enter Studios A and B on February 1.

They did not stop to honor the turning of the year with a party, not even Matt and company. Instead, they treated New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day like any other weekday. They all got up early, went down to the studio, and worked on their music until 5:00 PM. They then went back to their houses, ate their dinners, and went to bed well before midnight so they could get up and do it again the next day. They even started working on Saturdays, something they had not done up to this point, because Obie had made it quite clear that the new deadline of March 12 was set in concrete and would not be extended further.

On Sunday, January 4^th, Jake and Laura drove to North Bend Municipal Airport just after noon. They installed Cadence’s car seat in the seat immediately behind the pilot’s seat. They then strapped Cadence herself into it. Jake did the preflight checks and they roared into the sky at 12:45 PM, heading south for San Luis Obispo and home. Laura and Cadence both slept the entire flight. Both woke up a little cranky from their naps.

Jake drove them home in Laura’s Lexus. Once there, Laura told him to go catch a nap of his own, that she would take care of Caydee.

“Thanks, babe,” he said gratefully. Last night had been a rough one. Caydee had awakened them every ninety minutes on average and he had only gotten about three hours of broken sleep. He kissed Laura and then Caydee and headed for the bedroom. Before he could make it to his destination, however, the phone began to ring.

He looked over at Laura, hoping that she would get it, but saw that she was on the couch, opening her blouse so she could feed Caydee. With a sigh, he changed course and headed for the nearest phone, which was the one on the bar.

“Hello?” he said into it.

“Jake!” said a familiar, weasel-like voice. “How the hell are you, my man?”

It was Joshua Flag, the head of the A&R department at Aristocrat Records—the company that KVA was currently contracted with for manufacturing, distribution, and promotion of their products. It was a contract that was renegotiated with each new product they put out. Jake bemoaned the day he had provided Flag with his home phone number while being simultaneously grateful that he had never given him his cell number.

“I’m fine, Josh,” Jake said now. “What can I do for you?”

“I understand you’re in town for a few days,” Flag said. “Is that correct?”

Jake shook his head and rolled his eyes. He had never even told Flag that he was out of town, but that information was public record at this point. Yet somehow, Flag knew that he was back in southern California for a visit. He probably had someone keeping an eye on flight plans that were filed.

“I’m in Oceano, obviously,” Jake said, “since you called my home number and I answered. I now ask again: What can I do for you, Josh?”

“I was hoping that maybe you could hop over to LA tomorrow and meet with us,” Flag said.

“My daughter has a pediatrician appointment tomorrow,” Jake said. “That’s why we’re here. We’ll be flying back to Coos Bay tomorrow night so we can get back to work Tuesday morning. Flying to Los Angeles and back does not enter into that equation. Sorry.”

“Oh ... I see,” Flag said. “Is there any chance that you can make it enter in? We have some very important things we would like to discuss with you.”

“What kind of things?” Jake asked.

“Items of mutual interest,” Flag said. “Items related to the project you are working on up in Oregon.”

“I’m working on two projects up in Oregon, Josh,” Jake said. “Which one are you referring to?”

“The project you are working on with Matt Tisdale is particularly interesting to us,” he replied. “We want to touch bases with you and get a heads up on the particulars.”

Jake rolled his eyes again. It was obvious that Flag and the other suits were buying into the rumors about an Intemperance reunion and they wanted to be in position to cash in on it. “The project I’m working on with Matt Tisdale is a solo album, Josh,” Jake told him. “We are not putting Intemperance back together, nor do we plan to do so in the future.”

“I understand that that is what you have to say at this point,” Flag said. “We have no problem with that, and we would not want to prematurely release any details either. We just want to discuss the particulars with you and start talking some numbers related to the CD release and the tour that will inevitably follow.”

“We are not just saying this, Josh,” Jake explained patiently. “We are not working on new Intemperance material. We are working on a Matt Tisdale solo album because the suits over at National just wanted him to pump out a new CD and hit the road again. He came to us so he could make a quality solo album and not just a token one with the only purpose being to justify that tour.”

“Is that so?” Flag asked slyly.

“That is so,” Jake confirmed.

“Then why are Charlie Meyer, John Cooper, and Nerdly Archer all up there in Oregon and working at that studio too? Are you seriously trying to tell me that you have all five members of Intemperance working out of the same studio and you’re not putting together new Intemperance material?”

“That is seriously what I’m telling you,” Jake said. “We’re recording Celia Valdez’s new album at the same time as Matt’s. Coop and Charlie, I’m sure you are aware, are Celia’s rhythm section. Nerdly is the sound engineer for both projects. I am the producer for both projects. We went to great lengths, as a matter of fact, to keep Matt and Charlie and Coop from even encountering each other in the studio. The one time we failed at this, Coop and Matt had to be physically separated to keep them from punching each other after Matt accused Coop of being the biggest sellout since ‘that Judas motherfucker sold out JC to the fuckin’ Romans’. There is no Intemperance reunion, Josh. I do not know how to make that any plainer.”

“Like I said, Jake,” Flag said, “I understand the need to keep this thing quiet. We’re on board with that and will keep it quiet until you authorize release of the information.”

“There is no information to release,” Jake said. “We’re working on a Matt Tisdale solo album and a Celia Valdez solo album. When we have masters in hand, we will then submit copies to you and enter into negotiations for MD&P at that time. You know? The usual way we do business?”

“Okay,” Flag said with a sigh. “I’m picking up what you’re laying down. No admission of new Intemperance material at this time. Just give us the courtesy of first refusal once you have the master in hand. We are fully prepared to pay National whatever they ask for performance rights.”

“I’m hanging up now, Josh,” Jake said, exasperated. “We’ll call you when we have the Tisdale and Valdez masters ready for your perusal.”

Flag started to say something else, but Jake stayed true to his word. He hung up the phone, cutting the connection mid-spiel.

“What was that all about?” asked Laura, who was flipping through channels on the television while Cadence suckled her breast.

“It was Flag from Aristocrat,” he said. “He wants in on the Intemperance reunion.”

“Does he now?” she said with a little shake of the head. “Even though there is no such reunion?”

“It was like I was talking to one of those religious nuts,” Jake said. “He would not be convinced that the reunion doesn’t exist.”

“Hopefully he won’t be too disappointed to negotiate with you when you present the masters for Matt and Celia,” she said.

“Hopefully,” Jake said sourly. “Thanks for giving me one more thing to worry about.”

“Any time,” she said lightly. “Now go take your nap. If I can get little Miss Caydee down after she eats, I might just join you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, interested.

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “We know the equipment is functional again. We should probably put it to use.”

“I like the way you think,” he said. He turned toward the bedroom. He did not make it two steps before the phone began to ring again. “Fuck me,” he muttered, snatching it up. “Yes?” he said impatiently into the mouthpiece.

“Jake!” said another familiar, weasel-like voice. “Steve Crow over at National Records here. I heard you were back in town for a bit. How the hell you doing, brother?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jake said, shaking his head and preparing to go through another round of denials.

Dr. Michaels was quite pleased with Caydee’s growth and development since her two-day appointment back in early December. She was following her growth and weight chart in the eightieth percentile, having put on nearly three pounds from her birth weight of seven pounds eight ounces and growing an inch and half in length from her birth length of nineteen and a half inches. She still was not able to hold her head up independently, but this was a two-to-three-month milestone and not unexpected. She had no vaccinations due on this visit. At her two-month appointment she would get the first batch.

“She has more air miles in her first month of life than I’ve accumulated all year,” the doctor told them when he heard about their travels.

“At least she won’t be afraid to fly later in life,” Laura observed.

Michaels sent them forth with his blessing and told them to make another appointment for approximately one month from now. They stopped at the desk and did so before leaving. From there, they went up one floor and down another hall, arriving at Dr. Niven’s office just in time for Laura’s one-month postpartum check. There, they reluctantly admitted to fudging on the six-week moratorium regarding vaginal sexual activity.

“Only four weeks?” Niven said, a strong air of disapproval in her tone. “Was there any pain? Any bleeding?”

“No,” Laura said. “It was actually quite ... uh ... you know ... enjoyable, to tell the truth.”

“Well ... I suppose that’s okay then,” the doc said reluctantly. “Are you starting your birth control pills again? Remember what I told you about the effectiveness of lactation as a birth control measure?”

“I remember,” Laura said. “And I released the hold on them the day after the first time we ... you know ... did it. I’m a week in now.”

“Keep in mind that you will not be safe from pregnancy for another three weeks or so,” Niven told her. “If you insist on engaging in sexual activity, I suggest you utilize condoms until that time.”

“Uh ... right, of course,” Jake said, having no intention of actually doing that. He had not put a condom on his schlong in nearly six years now and he had no intention of slapping one on now. If the universe wanted them to have another baby that badly, so be it.

Niven did not do an internal exam on this visit, but she did look at Laura’s breasts, feeling them carefully and looking for signs of mastitis or other lactation issues. She expressed a little milk from each nipple to see how the flow was going and then wiped it up with a small towel. She pronounced Laura’s mammary glands a healthy set and then she and Laura spent about ten minutes discussing things like vaginal discharge and hormones and postpartum depression. These were not particularly fascinating subjects of conversation for Jake. He liked it better when the attractive female doctor was squeezing his wife’s boobs—even if she was doing it with latex gloves on.

Finally, Laura was pronounced fit and fine and they were allowed to leave. Unlike Caydee, Laura would not need another checkup next month. She was good for another six. After that, she would only need the yearly visits unless she became pregnant again or had some gynecological issue that needed to be addressed.

From the medical office building, they drove back home. Elsa had made a mid-afternoon meal for them. While they ate, she doted over “Miss Cadence” (as she called her), spending most of her time holding her and talking to her.

“Do you still plan to meet with that nurse’s sister regarding the nanny position?” Elsa asked them.

“We do,” Laura replied. “We don’t know if we’ll like her or not, but she has a great reference.”

“Will the position be live-in?” Elsa asked.

“Yes,” Jake said, “but don’t worry. We’ll give her one of the guest bedrooms to stay in. We would never ask you to have the nanny live in your quarters.”

“I would think that would go without saying,” Elsa said huffily, “but that was not my concern.”

“Oh?” Jake asked.

“Yes,” she said simply. “My concern is for your privacy. I trust you would have any nanny hired sign and thoroughly understand a strict nondisclosure agreement?”

“Well ... of course,” Jake said, wondering where she was going with this. “I mean, I even had you sign one of those.”

“And I have abided by it to the letter,” she said. “But my point is that things have become a bit more ... shall we say ... controversial in your lives since I was hired. The potential gossip that such an employee would be privy to has become much juicier.”

Laura and Jake looked at each other for a moment and then back at Elsa. “What are you talking about, Elsa?” Jake finally asked.

“I am referring to the relationship the two of you now share with Ms. Valdez,” she said pointedly.

Jake almost choked on his iced tea. Laura turned suddenly pale. “Uhhh ... relationship?” Jake stammered. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I am talking about, Jake,” she said. “You and Laura have been engaged in a sexual relationship with Ms. Valdez for several months now. Did you really think you were fooling anyone?”

They looked at each other again and then back at Elsa. “Uh ... yeah,” Jake finally said. “Actually, we did.”

The housekeeper shook her head. “You were not,” she said. “I knew pretty much from the start, and you do not even carry on in this location very often. I am sure that those who live in the house where you do carry on know as well. If they do not, then they are staggeringly unobservant.”

“Uh ... wow,” Laura said, blushing furiously now. “I don’t know what to say here.”

“You need say nothing,” Elsa said. “You do not need to explain yourselves to me. I am non-judgmental when it comes to a person or persons’ sexual practices. To each their own. I am simply pointing out the fact that anybody you invite to live in this household is going to quickly know what is going on between you two and Ms. Valdez. You cannot hide your activities from those you live in close proximity to. I only caution that you take that into consideration when hiring your nanny. If you continue your dalliances with Ms. Valdez, even if you confine them to her house only, the nanny is going to know about it. You will need to know that you can trust her not to blab about what she knows—not to anyone. She cannot tell the press, she cannot tell her friends, she cannot tell her sister the nurse. One slip of the lips and the story is bound to break. And there are already rumblings about you, Laura, and Ms. Valdez floating about in the world.”

“I ... uh ... we understand,” Jake said after a moment. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention.”

“I thought you should know,” she said simply. “And now, if you two are done, I will give Miss Cadence back to you and begin cleaning up.”

With that, she handed Caydee back over to Laura. As soon as she was in her mother’s arms, she issued her first genuine, unmistakable smile. Laura smiled back, thrilled. But in the back of her mind, she could not help but wonder if her daughter was actually laughing at her predicament.