Previously:

Giselle agreed to host a party for a difficult client. Highwind investor Claudia Crane-Shaw was going out of town for business and needed someone to plan her twin daughters' birthday celebration and to look after them on their big night. Giselle was privately irritated at being asked to babysit, but planned to hand the duties over to Elena instead.

After tracing a phone number in Lucy Emery's cell phone, Charlie and Jasper learned that fugitive Erin Emery was hiding out in the town of King's Bay. They began working with the local authorities there to track Erin down.

At Vincent's request, Sonya Cortes agreed to investigate Giselle's new friend, Father Bartlett. Sonya discovered he had recently quit his church, but his reasons remained a mystery.

No matter how many times she shot him down, Elena couldn't shake the interest of Highwind guest and X Games athlete, Jonothan Albion. Remy agreed to help Jono in his pursuit of Elena -- only after the self-centered snowboarder threatened to pull out of the X-Limit's upcoming exhibition.

 

The Highwind Lodge

Remy Ormand sat alone at a table in the Highwind Lodge, fidgeting and drumming his fingers on the table after overdosing on the largest, blackest coffee he could find. He'd agreed to meet up with Jonothan Albion, but shock of all shocks, the never-reliable athlete was late.

But when Jono finally showed up, Remy honestly was surprised -- Jonothan had been up since six in the morning doing practice runs apparently. At least that's what he claimed. "I don't believe you," Remy challenged when Jono relayed his story. "You might have stayed up till six or not slept at all ... but actually waking up that early voluntarily?"

"Hey, I take my competitions seriously. We're getting closer to the big event now. It's time to get down to business."

"If you say so," Remy conceded, though he remained doubtful. Jono's cheeks were still flushed from the frigid morning air, his dirty blond hair matted from the ski cap he'd just removed. Maybe he had been practicing after all.

"Let me share a little secret with you, mate," Jono said, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning in to deliver whatever gem of wisdom he was about to impart upon Remy. "It takes hard work to get to this level. I know I make it look effortless, but it's not easy staying at the top of your game."

Remy ignored the egotistical and slightly patronizing undercurrent of his 'admission.' "That's actually kind of reassuring to hear, considering my reputation with my mother and the Highwind is riding on you and this X-Limit thing."

"You've got nothing to worry about. It's not like you're going to get fired if something goes wrong."

"It's exactly like that. I've heard my mom and Beau talking about me. They think I'm a fuckup. This is the first time they've ever trusted me with something this big."

Jono lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "You've haven't done too bad for yourself, so far. You managed to get me on board, so you shouldn't have to worry about a lack of talent or publicity for the grand opening."

Remy just shook his head, praying Jono was right to be so cocksure of everything. He only wished he could be so convinced.

"Any suggestions for music?" Remy asked, running through the details in his mind. "I'm looking into setting up a stage, like, at the finish area out there. It'd be cool to line up a band or two to perform at the event. Do you have any good connections?"

"I've got my own band!" Jono announced all too eagerly. "I just started playing with these guys in London. We're not too shabby. You should let us give it a go--"

"Is there anything you don't do?" Remy challenged, cutting him off. "Sorry, but I'm not letting this turn into Jonopalooza '09. I'm talking real bands. Besides, how can you play music and snowboard at the same time?"

"I suppose that's a fair point," he relented. "But you've gotta hear us play sometime!"

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Remy said, shutting him up before his showboating veered them off a cliff of no return.

Luckily, he was saved from Jono's conversational dominance by the approach of Elena. She walked over to their table with two overly made-up, overprocessed blonde teenagers flanking her.

"Well, hello there," Jono said, leaning back in his seat to admire the view.

Elena refused to cast him a glance of acknowledgment. "What's he doing here?"

"Having a bloody coffee, if it's all right with you," Jono barked.

"He was practicing for the exhibition, and now we're having breakfast. What's up?" Remy asked, studying Elena and the girls.

The blondes whispered to each other and erupted into a fit of giggles.

Elena scowled at them. "Ugh, I can't deal with you two. I'll be back in a minute. Don't run off." She left the twins at the table with Jono and pulled Remy aside. "We've got a situation. I need your help."

"Who are these girls?" From across the room, Remy watched Jono attempt to chat up the young twins.

"Astrid and Ingrid Shaw. Daughters of Claudia Crane-Shaw."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"The Highwind investor lady. Twenty feet tall...? Skin like a leather handbag...? Ring a bell?" Elena asked.

"Oh, yeah! Okay," Remy said scratching his chin. "Wow, those two really won the genetic lottery."

"They're also only eighteen -- well, not even that old yet -- so keep it in your pants," Elena said sharply. "For some reason I can't even begin to fathom, Giselle agreed to host a birthday party for the two of them. Probably as a favor to win over Claudia."

"That doesn't sound so terrible..."

"It wouldn't be ... if Giselle hadn't decided to put us in charge. She wants the two of us to handle it. Work with them," she said, rolling her eyes in the general direction of the twins, "and plan everything from top to bottom."

Remy rubbed his forehead, dismayed. "We don't have time to deal with this. We should be focusing on the X-Limit, not somebody's Super Sweet Sixteen."

"Eighteen," Elena corrected.

"Does it matter?" Remy looked over to the twins. They took turns sitting on Jono's lap while he lavished the attention. "You'd better keep a closer eye on those two."

Elena looked to see what was going on.

"You promise you'll come to our party?" Astrid-or-Ingrid pouted as she draped her arms around Jono's neck.

"He'll promise no such thing!" Elena stomped over to the table to drag Claudia's daughters away from Jonothan.

"Sure thing. I'll come along -- but only if I can find a date," Jono said, turning his focus to Elena and taking her hand. "What do you say?"

"In a word? Never." She recoiled from his touch in an instant. "Come on, girls. We're leaving. We're supposed to meet the party planner. Will you come to the club with us, Remy? We need to see what we're working with."

"My club? You're having the party at my club?" he asked. Why was he always the last to hear of these things? He already felt so railroaded by Elena, Jono, Giselle ... he had no energy left to protest. "Fine, whatever. Sorry, Jono. Looks like I've gotta run."

"Yay! We finally get to pick the theme for our party!" the twin with the straighter, blonder hair cheered.

"You are so hot," the other one said, latching on to Remy's arm as she followed him to the door. "I'm Astrid, by the way. Hey, will you and that other guy be our sexy escorts who carry us into the party for our grand entrance?"

"I ... really don't want to do that."

"Maybe this will change your mind!" Astrid said, producing a hundred dollar bill from her purse and waggling it at him.

"Nope. Still not gonna happen," he dismissed her, lengthening his stride. He wasn't about to volunteer himself for any further humiliation. Giselle seemed to have done a bang-up job of that for him.

 

The Guthrie Home

Charlie Guthrie was expecting Jasper Kent's arrival and gratefully opened the door to him the moment he heard his car come to a stop in the drive. Jasper had called to say he had information about Erin. They were ready to make their next move.

"I can't believe this could finally be over." Charlie felt his words catch in his throat. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he last saw his daughter's perfect little face or remembered the way he'd held her in his arms. It was too much to hope for, that anything could ever be 'normal' again. Things could never be normal, but having Summer back would change everything for him.

Charlie felt a hand on his shoulder. Kerrigan stood behind him, her presence reassuring. When she first came to him after her blowup with Beau, she was the one who needed his support. But in the weeks that had passed since then, she was the one who had given him the strength and the hope that he would be reunited with his daughter. She'd remained stubbornly optimistic about his situation, if only to distract herself from her own troubles. Charlie wished he could be as certain as she was that this investigation would play out the way he hoped.

"Jasper, come in. What's going on?" Charlie asked immediately.

"I think we've found her," he said. "The King's Bay police contacted us this morning and sent us these." He handed a manila folder to Charlie, who looked over its contents with Kerrigan.

Inside were photographs of the pay phone Erin had been using to contact her mother from King's Bay. The surveillance was a bit grainy, but as Charlie studied the woman in the photos, he felt the sense of hope he'd been missing for so long. "That's her, isn't it? That's her!" he said, jabbing a finger at the freeze-frame woman in the picture. The more he looked at her, the more certain he became.

Kerrigan studied the printout with an objective eye, and Charlie couldn't look away either.

"It's her, Charlie," Jasper affirmed. "These are just the screen captures. We were sent a video, and she can be seen more clearly in the live footage. She must've tried to alter her appearance."

"She looks so different," Kerri said, flipping to a different photograph.

Charlie nodded his silent agreement. She did look different, but for all her efforts, she couldn't hide from him. "It's definitely her." The most obvious difference was her shorter haircut, dyed black now. The woman in the photo wore dark sunglasses, too. He couldn't see her eyes, but the very structure of her face and the way she carried herself were definite indicators.

"The surveillance operation tracked her -- followed her back to her apartment after these photos were taken. She's been in and out several times since then."

Jasper handed Charlie a separate photo, one he'd kept to himself until now. It was an image of the same woman -- Erin -- entering an apartment. This time she wasn't alone. She held the hand of a little girl with auburn pigtails.

"Summer!" he choked out, recognizing his daughter at once. She was walking on her own ... walking, talking, smiling like any other kid would. Charlie felt sick to his stomach, wondering if Summer even remembered who he was. If they were reunited -- when they were back together again -- would she even recognize him or accept him as her father?

Charlie couldn't hold it together. Seeing his daughter for the first time in nearly six months was too much to process. Kerri started to cry, too. "They did it, Charlie! I knew they would," she said, hugging him tightly.

He held her close as months of pent-up emotion and his own self-loathing coursed through him. He would never stop blaming himself for the way things had played out, but if he got his second chance with Summer, if he got to see Erin just one more time, he would at least be able to live with himself and move forward for his daughter's sake.

"When do we leave?" he asked, his voice ragged.

"Charlie..." Jasper began with hesitation.

"I'm going with you," he said. It simply wasn't up for discussion.

"I know. It wouldn't do any good for me to tell you no," he said, his stoic demeanor giving way to a grudging smile. "But we have to do this the right way," he warned. "We're on the same side here."

"I'll do whatever you say as long as we get them back," he promised. "I'm not losing her again."

 

The Bistro

Sonya Cortes was a bit hesitant when Vincent Guthrie asked her to breakfast that morning. She would have preferred that they simply discuss things at her house, but he insisted on taking her out and treating her to a meal. She knew he considered it a great favor that she'd taken on his seemingly-groundless investigation into Giselle's new confidant, as uncomfortable as it had been for her to attempt to dig up dirt on a priest, of all people.

She was initially leery of going out because she wasn't sure how Vincent would handle her disability. He didn't exactly seem to be the warmest, most considerate of individuals, and while Sonya was able to do many things for herself since her paralysis, it was still a challenge getting in and out of cars and hauling her wheelchair along on her day trips.

But Vincent had been surprisingly capable and delicate with Sonya when he'd helped her into the car. When they arrived at the Bistro, he removed Sonya's wheelchair from his trunk and she quickly showed him how to reassemble it. He helped her back into the chair with little fuss. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea to get out of the house, after all.

"Thanks for inviting me out, Vincent," Sonya said honestly, enjoying the bright morning sun as they entered the restaurant.

"Thank you for helping me. I know you must think it's ridiculous -- that I'd be so concerned about a man like Liam Bartlett -- but when Giselle makes up her mind about something or someone, it's hard to sway her. I just don't understand how this person has wormed his way into her life so effortlessly. I don't trust his intentions, whatever they may be."

"You may be right to be wary," Sonya said cryptically. She unintentionally left him hanging as the host showed them to their table.

"As you were saying?" Vincent asked once they were seated. "What have you turned up?"

"The investigation is still in progress," she said. "I don't want you to jump to any conclusions--"

"So there is something. I knew it," he said, a predatory smile crossing his lips.

"Something's not right with the situation," Sonya agreed.

Before she could elaborate, the waitress arrived at their table to take their orders. Sonya ordered her favorite breakfast item on the menu, the southwestern egg blossoms, then continued with her findings.

"I went to Father Bartlett's church. I talked to a few people there, and you'll never believe what I learned..."

Vincent's eyes were alive with interest. She knew his curiosity must be killing him, but she had a brief flash of concern about sharing the information with him, afraid of what he might do with it.

"Father Bartlett resigned from St. Magdalene's Church a couple months ago. None of his parishioners know the reason why. Everyone I talked to said it was a completely unexpected departure."

"That bastard. I knew he had something to hide. It's got to be about Giselle," Vincent insisted. "If that faithless opportunist thinks he's going to make a play for her, he's sorely mistaken."

"But we don't know why he left -- we can't be certain. The fact that it was so abrupt is suspicious, but there's the possibility it has nothing to do with Giselle."

"It has everything to do with her. She comes along and all of a sudden he resigns from his church? Whatever his agenda is, it involves her," Vincent said, convinced. "There has to be something I can say to her to make her see..."

"This could all blow up in your face if you rush in there ready to crucify him. Maybe he's got a valid explanation. Maybe he's already told Giselle everything."

"For his sake, he'd better hope he has. There's nothing Giselle hates more than someone who tries to pull the wool over her eyes, and if he hasn't told her yet ... well, she's about to find out."

"I don't know if that's the best move. Do you really think she'll listen to you? That she'll take your story over his if it comes down to it?"

"She may not like what she's hearing, but she has to trust me more than a man she's only known for a few months."

"You would think so, but she's still furious with you. She filed a restraining order against you. She's going to think this is all some jealous scheme of yours to get back in her good graces." Sonya didn't want him to waste their ammunition against Father Bartlett by confronting Giselle so soon. "Give me a little more time. If he's truly up to no good, we'll find something even more damning, don't you think?"

Vincent didn't seem so sure. "I can't sit back and wait for her to get hurt or taken in by him. Those threatening letters ... I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her."

"Putting aside your personal distaste for him, do you honestly think he's a danger to her?"

"Who can say for sure?" Vincent said in a somber tone. "But I'm not going to wait to find out."

 

The Highwind - Giselle's Office

"Are you finished whining yet?" Giselle Ormand asked, seated at her desk across from Remy and Elena.

The two of them were bitter after spending most of the afternoon at the Bel Ami Club cobbling together the twins' last-minute party plans. Giselle didn't envy them. Now, her son was intent on laying into her for throwing them to the wolves.

Giselle knew he was pissed, and he had every right to be. She was sure it was no easy task dealing with the twins' over-the-top demands on such short notice, and she had promised them Remy's club as their venue without bothering to ask him. Giselle felt a twinge of guilt, but when she stopped to remember it could have been her in this position -- forced to take orders from Claudia and her hatchlings -- she didn't regret her decision.

When Remy and Elena had first arrived, Giselle was in the middle of a meeting with Paul Schultz, but she'd gamely asked her two irate employees to stay and air their concerns. She listened to them silently -- or at least gave the impression she was listening. When they were finished, Giselle turned to Paul. "Now do you see what I have to deal with? I didn't think two teenage girls would pose such a challenge."

Paul remained neutral as usual and said nothing. Giselle knew what he must be thinking: What did I get myself into? All he must've seen of the Highwind staff since he'd started was how dysfunctional they were as a team.

"This party is a waste of time," Remy said. Giselle could see the flush of anger in his cheeks. "I've got a million and one loose ends to take care of before the X-Limit opening, and now you're adding this to the plate? I think it's pointless."

"This party," Giselle began sternly, "is a personal favor to one of the Highwind's most influential investors. God knows, I'm no fan of Claudia and her heiress-wannabe daughters, but I think we can all agree that it is important to keep them happy. After all the money we've put into getting the X-Limit off the ground, the last thing we need is to lose one of our highest-profile financial backers ... wouldn't you agree, Paul?" she asked, baiting him to take her side.

"We can't afford anymore negative publicity. Giselle's right about that," he replied. "The X-Limit is the Highwind's best shot at salvaging its reputation and returning itself to relevance."

"Which is why I should be focusing my energy on that. You're purposely derailing me with these girls to keep me away from the X-Limit's grand opening, aren't you?" Remy asked. "You still don't trust that I can make this exhibition a success."

"That's not true," Giselle said, brushing aside his claim. "You have been the saving grace of the X-Limit," she said, telling him what he wanted to hear in hopes of diffusing the situation. "You've stepped up to the plate admirably. With Beau and Kerri's engagement and a baby on the way, I know they have other things demanding their attention. You've taken on a lot of responsibility, and I couldn't be more proud of you. That's why I know you can handle this, too."

Remy snorted a response, reading through her line of bullshit. Maybe he deserved more credit than she gave him, after all.

Giselle leveled with him. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you instead of forcing it upon you, but it's too late to change things now."

"We've already got it all under control," Elena reminded him. "All that's left is the party itself. There's no use arguing."

"You're right," he said, resigned to his fate. "I guess the hard part's over now, anyway."

"Thank you. Both of you," Giselle said. "I appreciate your hard work."

"Sure you do," Remy muttered, retreating from the office.

"Is that all, then?" Giselle asked, her hands clasped together in front of her.

"Yeah..." Elena said, standing. "Oh wait. One more thing. Jonothan Albion..."

"I thought we already discussed this? I know he's difficult, but give him whatever he wants. He'll be gone soon enough."

"He wants me. I don't know what his deal is. He keeps asking me out, and I keep telling him I'm not interested."

"I'm so sorry to hear that a man finds you attractive, Elena! You poor thing," Giselle said. "Are you serious? That's your problem?"

Elena narrowed her eyes at Giselle's mockery. "I feel like I have to walk a tightrope when I'm around him. I have no interest in dating him, but I don't want to offend him or make things any weirder, either. He's our guest, and he's a celebrity, and--"

"--And we should use this to our advantage," Giselle interrupted, mulling it over. "If you play along with him, maybe he'll be more apt to listen and do what we ask of him. You might even end up in the Star Tracks section if you play your cards right."

"What? You want me to whore myself out to some athlete to get the Highwind some free publicity? That's a pretty despicable suggestion, even coming from you," Elena huffed, walking out the door.

Paul gave Giselle a critical look, but she shrugged her shoulders. "What? I didn't think it was such a bad idea. It's not like I was asking her to sleep with him or anything."

"I would hope not," Paul said. "These sorts of games and manipulations are the reason the Highwind is in the position it's in today."

"Our troubles have been entirely circumstantial. A series of unfortunate events," Giselle defended.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Paul said, rising from his seat. "Either way, it wouldn't hurt to show a bit more respect to your employees. We all have to work together. In the end, that's the only way this business will ever get back on track."

 

Claudia Crane-Shaw's House

Claudia Crane-Shaw swooped over her coordinated Louis Vuitton luggage, making sure everything was in order before her flight that afternoon. "Did we forget anything?" she asked her housekeeper, Calliope.

"I don't think so, Missus," her timid helper answered. "Oh, wait. Your Nicorette!"

"Ahh, yes," Claudia said, relieved. She'd told her daughters she was quitting smoking, but, though she wore a nicotine patch and chewed the gum, that didn't stop her from stashing two cartons of Virginia Slims in her carry-on.

Just as she was finishing her packing, Astrid and Ingrid came home. She could hear her daughters carrying on and howling like banshees as they ran up the stairs.

"Mom!" Ingrid shouted, charging into her room.

"Our party is going to be so great!" Astrid joined in.

Claudia gave them a serene smile. "That's wonderful, girls. I wish I could be here to see it all, but you probably wouldn't want me around anyway, would you?"

"Not really," the twins agreed.

Claudia only laughed off the remark. She didn't blame them. She knew what her daughters were like and how they behaved when she wasn't around. Normally, it incensed her. But this time...

"I've got to catch my flight. Kisses!" Claudia said, kissing her daughters on both cheeks. "Calliope, take good care of the girls while I'm away."

"Bye mom!" The twins sang in chorus, all too happy to see her go. Sure, they played sweet and innocent, but the second she walked out the door, Claudia knew everything would change. The girls did whatever they wanted and never listened to anybody. Calliope was a dutiful housekeeper, but she was a total pushover when it came to Astrid and Ingrid.

"Have fun at your party. Don't get into too much trouble!" She had to stifle her own laugh, envisioning Giselle and her staff trying to contend with her out of control teenagers.

Claudia could only imagine the mess her daughters planned to make in her absence. She supposed she should feel anxious or worried at the prospect, but, for just this once, she was counting on them to be their usual, impish selves. It would serve Giselle right, and quite possibly throw her off her game for when the real fun began. She wouldn't be satisfied until she'd decimated Giselle Ormand. This was only the warm-up.