Chapter 4: New Beginnings

It was early Sunday afternoon when Jeremiah suddenly sat up in his bed gasping for air. His brain was in a terror, but at that moment he did not know why. For several seconds he did not know who he was, where he was or why he was there. It took nearly a minute for his mind to reconstruct his memories. By that time exhaustion and nagging pangs of hunger had become the dominant influence in his existence. With just enough energy to move, Jeremiah crawled out of his bed and on to the floor. An overwhelming want for water and food was driving him. He climbed up onto his feet, stumbled into the bathroom and began drinking water straight out of the faucet. The water gave him a boost of energy, and Jeremiah used it to make his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He went right to the refrigerator and the stores of packaged raw meat stuffed inside. Without waiting to close the refrigerator door, Jeremiah pulled out a flank steak, ripped open the packaging and began eating it. Relieved by the taste of meat in his mouth, Jeremiah dropped down to a sitting position on the floor and continued to devour the meat in his hands.

It took Jeremiah nearly five minutes to eat the steak. After guzzling some water out of the pitcher from the refrigerator, he ripped into a second package of raw meat with less of a ravenous frenzy. The driving hunger was satiated by the first steak, and he slowed his eating to savor the act. As he consumed the meat, his fingernails and canines began growing into claws and fangs. It took him double the time to eat the second steak than it took to eat the first. Now satiated, Jeremiah leaned back against the open refrigerator and wallowed in the fulfilled sensation he was experiencing.

“It worked,” Tony exclaimed as he walked into the kitchen.

Tony had been asleep in the guest room until a minute earlier. The sound of Jeremiah moving about took more than fifteen minutes to bring his mind back to consciousness.

“I didn’t want this,” Jeremiah cried out in a panicked voice.

“Yes, you did,” Tony hissed back. “Don’t lie to me. You’re immortal now. This is what everybody wants.”

Jeremiah had no response to Tony’s declaration. He knew it was fear of something new, fear of what it would be like and fear of death that stopped him from asking Tony to turn him.

“You didn’t know you could do it,” Jeremiah complained after a pause. “You used me; you made me your guinea pig.”

“Relax,” Tony countered dismissively. “It was easy. Razvan told me that if I gave you my blood within a few minutes of your heart stopping it would work.”

“You told me he said there was a fifty, fifty chance it would work,” Jeremiah vehemently contradicted.

“That was before… when they were living in the past. Stop your whining. It worked,” Tony exclaimed as he pulled Jeremiah up from the floor with his lapels.

Tony’s living in the past remark was about the life that the vampire Razvan and his Dacia cohorts had more than two-thousand years ago. At that time, much about vampirism was steeped in the beliefs and superstitions of religion, demonology and black magic, and the process of turning a mortal into an immortal often employed a ceremony. The science of the 20th Century brought Razvan and his Dacia cohorts around to the understanding that vampire blood had to be administered into the mouth a several seconds before or within a few minutes after death to accomplish the transformation. Any sooner or later might result in the immune system killing the vampire virus or the brain stem tissue decaying beyond reanimation. Because they made it their rule in the present day to never turn a mortal into an immortal, the assumption had been untested. Tony’s decision to turn Jeremiah into a vampire was predicated on Razvan’s assurance that it would work and that it worked for him.

“How do you feel?” Tony continued as he looked Jeremiah up and down.

Jeremiah continued to consider himself with an introspective stare. After a moment, Tony noted Jeremiah's preoccupation and continued to speak.

“Feels great, doesn’t it?” Tony questioned with a declarative flair.

“Yeah,” Jeremiah returned with a smile. “It does feel good.”

“And it only gets better,” Tony cheered. “Wait until you’re at full strength.”

Jeremiah continued to take inventory of himself. His amazed expression broadened with every deep breath he took.

“Think about it, Jerry,” Tony asserted. “What if there were a dozen—two dozen—hell, a hundred of us?”

Jeremiah barely listened to Tony while stretching and flexing his arms and body and marveling at the feeling of vitality within him.

“We would be unstoppable,” Tony continued with maniacal enthusiasm. “There's nothing we can't do.”

Jeremiah was peripherally aware of Tony's words and their meaning. The physical state of his person had most of his attention. Tony's propensity for making plans that went beyond the limits of his wallet was something that Jeremiah was familiar with. At times, Jeremiah saw it as his job to educate Tony about financial realities, and he was used to seeing these lessons rein in Tony's ambitions. But it was Jeremiah's enthrallment with the new feeling of power that made him more receptive than usual to Tony's grand scheming.

“We start tomorrow,” Tony declared with an air of satisfaction.

Jeremiah passively accepted the rantings of his old friend as something that might be doable, and his thoughts turned to something he was having trouble remembering.

“Tony,” Jeremiah suddenly spoke out with a confused frown. “What did that vampire tell you about mating for life?”

Tony hesitated just long enough to give Jeremiah a wide smile and a look that said he was thrilled to answer the question.

“When you turn a mortal woman into a vampire, you own her,” Tony returned in a hushed voice.

Tony gave Jeremiah a moment to think about that, and then he began to speak again with a fiendish stare.

“Yeah, that’s right. You turn her; you own her.”

~~~~~Liine Break~~~~~

It was 6:44am, Monday, when Cassidy walked into the squad room of Manhattan South Homicide. It was her first day of work inside the 13th precinct as a homicide detective 2nd grade. The squad room was mostly empty when she arrived. An administrative aide showed her to the desk assigned to her. She was warmly greeted by four detectives within the first five minutes of her arrival, and then Lieutenant Donald Laughton, the officer in-charge of the squad, arrived and invited her into his office.

“Welcome to Manhattan South Homicide,” Lt. Laughton greeted as he sat behind his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cassidy returned before sitting in the chair in front of Lt. Laughton’s desk.

Lt. Laughton was a man who looked to be in his late fifties. He was of average height and mostly gray hair. He was not someone that most people would refer to as heavy set, but he was thickly built, and his neck looked to be squeezing out the top of his shirt. His demeanor was pleasant but indifferent. It was clear from his manner that he had been through the process of welcoming new arrivals to the squad many times before.

For more than ten minutes, Lt. Laughton questioned Cassidy about her record and briefed her on his expectations going forward. He showed no indication that he was impressed by Cassidy’s recent successes and the commendations and promotion that followed them. At the end of the extemporized portion of their meeting, he gave Cassidy a perfunctory speech about the mandate of Manhattan South Homicide.

“You’ll be on Team One,” Lt. Laughton announced as he signaled to someone through the glass partition of his office. “Detective Jason Hale will be your team leader.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassidy agreed with a nod.

Cassidy kept her attention directed at Lt. Laughton until a thin, six foot, forty something man walked into the office. He was not an unattractive man, and his attire flattered his appearance. He greeted Cassidy with a smile and then promptly led her out of Lt. Laughton’s office. Cassidy quickly noted that Dt. Hale was a dynamic person. His movements were quick and streamlined. He seemed to always know exactly where he was going, and he wasted no time in getting there.

Dt. Hale walked Cassidy around the squad room and introduced her to ten detectives and two administrative aides before leading her to his team.

“This is Detective Geoff Greene,” Dt. Hale announced with a gesture toward a balding man who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties.

Dt. Greene stood up ahead of Cassidy’s arrival and extended his hand after the introduction. He greeted Cassidy with a smile, and she returned his greeting with a smile.

“Over here is Detective Howard Russo,” Dt. Hale gestured.

Cassidy walked over to the desk where a bespectacled, slightly rotund and studious looking man sat slightly reclined in his chair. Detective Russo sat up when Cassidy approached and extended his hand while peeking over the top of his glasses.

“Hi,” Dt. Russo blandly greeted.

Cassidy shook his hand and returned the greeting with a smile.

“And seated here is Detective Vera Washington,” Dt. Hale announced and gestured toward the desk across the aisle.

Cassidy noticed early on that Vera seemed to be taking an intense interest in her. As Cassidy walked around the room, she noticed that Vera was watching her far more than anyone else. What concerned her even more was the apparent glare within her gaze.

“Hi,” Cassidy called out as she walked over and extended her hand.

Vera waited a moment after Cassidy came to a stop beside her before coolly taking her hand.

“Hi,” Vera spoke with a nod and a sullen stare.

The handshake was brief, and Vera discontinued any recognition of Cassidy’s presence immediately after the separation. It was clear to Cassidy that Vera’s default was not to like her, but she dismissed it as a matter worthy of concern. Starting an association with the other’s disapproval was nothing new to Cassidy. For Vera, starting a new association with an officer by disliking him or her was new.

Detective Vera Washington was a slightly less than handsome woman in her mid-forties. Her experience as an officer in the United States Army was exhibited in her bearing and manner. It was clear to all that she took her job seriously and that she took her arrest and conviction record far more so. Her dedication to the of NYPD Detective Bureau was exemplified by her status as a divorced single woman with no children. Vera was a dedicated NYPD Officer who did not put wife and motherhood ahead or even on a par with career and success. She had little respect for women who tried to have it both ways. In her mind Cassidy was too attractive and too much of a mom to be a good police officer and detective and that made her an embarrassment to her as a woman in this male dominated profession. But it was Cassidy's sudden notoriety and miraculous rise to Detective 2nd Grade that was behind Vera’s immediate dislike for her. It took Vera nearly twice as long to achieve the same advancement. In Vera's mind, Cassidy got lucky and collected a lot of undeserved accolades because of it and also because of her decidedly attractive appearance.

“Catch up work will be most of what you’ll be doing for the next few weeks,” Dt. Hale informed Cassidy.

“Catch up work?” Cassidy queried as she moved behind her desk.

“Yes,” Dt. Hale returned. “You'll see. You're in the system,” he continued with a gesture toward the computer monitor on Cassidy's desk. “Setup your login and familiarize yourself with our open cases. That should keep you busy for the rest of the morning.”

After giving that statement, Dt. Hale turned and walked off toward his desk. Cassidy watched him walk away for a moment before looking to Dt. Greene with a questioning expression.

“What's catch up work?”

“Miscellaneous paperwork,” Dt. Greene casually answered. “It's Hale's way of getting a new detective up to speed on how he likes the paperwork done.”

Cassidy was just about to acknowledge her understanding when Vera interrupted.

“The shit work,” Vera spoke with a hint of disdain. “You're nobody special here. You start at the bottom like everybody else.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cassidy agreed with a slightly annoyed shake of her head.

“We're a team here,” Vera emphatically continued. “There's no grandstanding—no showboating. We work as a team. We succeed as a team. And at the end of the day, everybody goes home.”

Cassidy suspected the last part of Vera's remark was a dig on the fact that her last partner was shot and died in her arms.

“Yeah, got it,” Cassidy acknowledged.

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

Charlie Panko made a phone call to Jeremiah's home shortly past 1pm, Monday. He expected to leave a message with Jeremiah for Tony to hear when he awakened that evening. When Charlie heard Tony answer, he briefly forgot what he was going to say. After his initial surprise, Charlie reported that he and Mickey Nevers had set up a meeting with a Sinaloa Cartel representative for 2pm Thursday. The meeting was to take place at Augusto's Restaurant in Jersey City. In turn, Tony instructed Charlie to come to the house straight away and to bring Ben with him. He offered no reason for the midday meeting and entertained no questions on the subject. It was a few minutes past two in the afternoon on Monday, when Charlie and Ben arrived outside the back door of Jeremiah’s home.

Charlie and Ben were mildly curious about the summons from Tony, and it was not because of the daylight hours for their meeting. They had seen Tony awake and moving around during the day before. They were with Tony when he went shopping for new clothes in the middle of the day. Charlie and Ben knew that his vampire body could absorb direct sunlight for several hours before shutting down. They knew that doing things at night was Tony's preference but not a necessity. What did give Charlie and Ben cause to be mildly curious was the absence of an explanation for a daytime meeting. They had no idea what Tony could want from them during the day that they could not do at night.

“Come in,” Tony called through the back door.

The backdoor of the house opened into the kitchen. Charlie and Ben stepped through the doorway and hesitated. The kitchen, adjacent dining and living rooms were dark. No lights were on anywhere and all the blinds were down. The dark interior of the house was new to them both. In the past, some light fixtures were always on for Jeremiah’s benefit. The absence of light had them both wondering where Jeremiah was.

“Close the door,” Tony ordered impatiently.

“Yeah, boss,” Charlie acknowledged as he closed the back door.

“Put the meat in the refrigerator,” Tony commanded when Charlie and Ben hesitated in front of the closed kitchen door.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie suddenly remembered just before setting off for the refrigerator.

As usual, Charlie and Ben arrived with several grocery bags of packaged meat. When they began storing the meat in the refrigerator the light inside illuminated Tony’s facial expression. They saw nothing in Tony’s demeanor to suggest he was angry, but the absence of Jeremiah had them worried. Charlie and Ben began exchanging nervous glances as they worked.

After a a moment of silence, Charlie nervously asked, “Where’s Jerry?”

“Jerry is in the basement,” Tony impassively answered. “There’s some stuff down there we need you to take out to the car.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Charlie asked nervously with a glance toward Tony.

“Finish up,” Tony responded abruptly.

Charlie and Ben finished storing the meat in the refrigerator a few seconds later. His insistence that they hurry up seemed unnecessary to them both, and it added to their concern about the meeting.

“Come on,” Tony ordered as he turned and started for the basement stairwell.

Charlie and Ben reluctantly followed Tony, exchanging nervous glances as they went.

“Boss, is this going to take long?” Ben asked anxiously as they descend the stairs.

Tony ignored the question as he continued leading his two henchmen into the basement. At the bottom of the stairs, Tony walked past the light switch as he made his way to the center of the room. He stopped and turned to face Charlie and Ben who were a few steps behind.

“Boss, don't you think we should turn some lights on?” Ben apprehensively queried.

“I see fine,” Tony gruffly disputed.

A diffuse light coming through four narrow curtain-covered windows along the top of the walls on either side of the basement provided minimal light. A clutter of furniture and boxes created darker shadows in the corners for the large space that extended the length and width of the house.

“So, where’s Jerry?” Charlie asked.

“I'm here,” a voice from behind softly spoke out.

Charlie and Ben swiftly turned in the direction of the speaker. A visual study of the area soon revealed a dark silhouette of a man standing in a corner shadow. A few seconds later, the head of the silhouette titled up and exposed a pair of light reflecting eyes. Charlie and Ben were shocked by the sight of the two eyes glinting in the darkness and took an involuntary half step back as they stared at the figure. After a pause, the figure stepped out of the shadow.

“Charlie. Ben.” Jeremiah greeted as he looked from one to the other.

Jeremiah was a slender version of the slightly rounded figure he once was. His facial features were youthful, and his bald spot and reclining hairline were gone. In its place was a thick carpet of dark hair that covered the whole of his head. His eyeglasses were not on his face. Charlie and Ben were dumbfounded by the sight of him.

“Jesus, Tony, what did you do?” Charlie asked in a frightened huff.

“He made me better,” Jeremiah answered on Tony's behalf.

“You look—good,” Ben stumbled out.

“I feel great,” Jeremiah nearly growled.

Charlie and Ben inched back in response to Jeremiah's vociferous return. Neither Charlie nor Ben knew how they should respond to what they were seeing. Now they both had strong suspicions that Tony was planning to do something to them, and they were fearful of the top two possibilities. Charlie was 44 years old, and Ben was 47, and neither had longings for their youth. In their minds, they were still physically fit men. The thought that Tony and Jeremiah were about to turn them into vampires was a big fear. They were happy to work for Tony and Jeremiah and benefit from their successes, but the idea of fundamentally changing their existence was a terrifying thought; it was also the lesser of their two fears. The thought that Tony and Jeremiah were going to feed on them until they died was their greatest fear. A fight or flight contention welled up within them as they looked to each other for the correct decision.

“I know you're afraid,” Tony calmly conveyed.

Charlie and Ben quickly turned about to look at Tony.

“But you don't have to be,” Tony continued in the same soothing tone. “This is the start of a whole new beginning for us.”

“Wait a minute, boss,” Charlie returned with a wide-eyed stare. “You're not thinking about turning us?”

“Yeah,” Ben quickly chattered in. “I think things should stay the way they are.”

Tony gave Ben a smile in response.

“Trust me,” Tony said. “You'll feel differently tomorrow.”

Immediately after Tony spoke those words, Jeremiah seized Ben by the head and shoulders from behind. Ben screamed in terror as Jeremiah snatched him backwards towards his exposed fangs. In that same moment, Charlie turned and looked at Jeremiah in horror. He was an instant away from running for the stairs when Tony grabbed him from the front by his head and shoulder, yanked him forward and dug his lower fangs deep into the front left side of his neck just below the jaw and into the carotid artery. His upper fangs dug in with equal force into the rear of Charlie's neck. Almost immediately the taste of blood spilled into Tony’s mouth, and he began sucking from the wound. Charlie squirmed against the assault, but Tony's powerful arms held him tight against his chest. At first Charlie's heartbeat worked against him. Blood flowed into Tony's mouth like a weak stream of flowing water. More than a minute into the feed, the stream had weakened to a dribble and Charlie’s resistance drifted off into unconsciousness. A minute later, Charlie's heart beat its last and Tony sucked out blood by the strength of his lungs alone. A few seconds later he lowered Charlie's lifeless body to the floor. Jeremiah did the same with Ben at the same moment.

“Has his heart stopped beating?” Tony asked Jeremiah.

“Yeah,” Jeremiah answered with a nod.

“Are you sure?” Tony sternly challenged. “He cannot have a heart...”

“He's dead,” Jeremiah gruffly interrupted.

Tony paused to snarl at Jeremiah beneath his breath.

“Now we make two more of us,” Tony declared with insistence. “Do as I do.”

Tony bit into the palm of his own hand until blood began flowing from the wound. He then opened Charlie's mouth and allowed his blood to drip inside. Within seconds of seeing this, Jeremiah did the same with Ben.

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

At the end of her first day with Manhattan South Homicide, Cassidy went to pick up her kids at the home of Valerie Bower. Valerie was a neighborhood acquaintance who provided daycare for Cassidy and two other working mothers in the area. Her house was down the street from Cassidy’s. When Cassidy arrived at Valerie’s house, she was mildly surprised to learn that her mother, Margaret, had already picked up Cynthia and John. Usually, Margaret would call before picking up the kids. After a quick check of her cell phone, Cassidy saw that Margaret had called while she was driving home. Cassidy apologized for the interruption and after a brief exchange of pleasantries she set off for home.

Nearing her house, Cassidy saw her mother’s car parked out front. Cassidy parked in the driveway next to the house, retrieved a corrugated box full of case files from the trunk and carried them inside with her. When she stepped across the threshold of the front door, Cassidy smelled food cooking in the kitchen. Cynthia and John were on the living room floor reading and writing in their schoolbooks. They promptly got up and went to her with ‘hi mommy’ greetings and ‘what’s that’ questions. Cassidy returned their greetings as she carried the box to the dining room table.

“It’s homework,” Cassidy explained.

“Did you go to school, mommy?” Cynthia asked with surprise.

“Well, it’s homework from work,” Cassidy returned with a smile. “It’s stuff I have to learn for my job.”

Satisfied with that answer, Cynthia asked nothing more about the box. She waited for her welcome home kiss from Cassidy, which was promptly delivered to her and John, and then she and her little brother went back to the living room. As her kids went back to their studies on the floor, Cassidy turned and set off for the kitchen.

“Hi mom,” Cassidy greeted Margaret.

The kitchen was a mixture of sounds and smells with heat radiating from the stove. Margaret was standing over the kitchen counter chopping celery when Cassidy spoke.

“Hi dear,” Margaret greeted with a glance toward Cassidy. “How was your first day?”

“It was fine,” Cassidy quickly answered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m fixing dinner,” Margaret explained, slight astonished.

“The kids have already eaten,” Cassidy lectured with a frown. “Valerie always feeds them.”

“Well, this is for us,” Margaret mildly disputed. “Cynthia and John can have the Jell-O fruit salad I brought.”

Cassidy shook her head with mild astonishment.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Cassidy admonished.

Margaret ignored the reprimand with a look and smirk.

“Go clean up,” Margaret instructed. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Cassidy did as she was instructed and came down from the upstairs bedrooms to a dining room table set for dinner. Cynthia and John were already munching away on dessert bowls filled with the Jell-O fruit salad that Margaret brought from her home. Margaret was seated behind a full plate of food at one end of a six-chair table. Cassidy paused to note the food situated just beyond the empty plate at the opposite end of the table, and then she sat down behind it.

“So, how was your day?” Margaret asked pleasantly.

Margaret began cutting and piercing her food with knife and fork after making her inquiry. Cassidy was already putting food into her plate when she heard the question, and she took the time to complete what she was doing before looking to Margaret with her answer.

“It was okay, mom,” Cassidy returned with an artificial smile.

Margaret noted Cassidy’s facial expression more than her words. She could see that her one and only daughter was not interested in sharing her thoughts at this moment. She was not detecting any signs that Cassidy was troubled about anything, but she was expecting more of a reaction to the completion of her first day as a Manhattan South Homicide Detective.

“You've been struggling half your life to get where you are now, and all you can say is, ‘it was okay,’” Margaret challenged.

Cassidy continued serving herself food and Margaret continued to eat. For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of cutlery and plates clanking around the table.

“It's the same job, mom,” Cassidy replied while skewering food onto her fork. “It's just in a new location.”

“Oh, please,” Margaret admonished with exasperation. “It's Manhattan South Homicide.”

Cassidy knew that her mother was not going to dismiss any attempt by her to minimize her new position. Margaret was the wife of a retired NYPD officer. Cassidy knew her mom appreciated the size of the leap in her promotion.

“Okay, if you must know, it was boring,” Cassidy declared after lowering her utensils. “They had me doing a lot of paperwork, filing and stuff like that. I was the water boy.”

Cassidy took a moment to give her mother a questioning look, and then she went back to eating her food. Margaret briefly smiled at her daughter’s sarcasm.

“So, it's your first day,” Margaret lectured with a shrug. “You can't expect to jump right into things.”

“I don't, mom,” Cassidy returned defensively. “You're the one making a big deal out of it.”

“Don't play grown up with me,” Margaret scolded. “I used to change your diapers.”

Cynthia giggled at this exchange, and John followed her lead even though he did not know why they were giggling. Cassidy gave her mother a look of resignation.

“It was a little thrilling, but that wore off quickly,” Cassidy admitted, mildly dejected. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I want to hear everything,” Margaret returned with a wide smile.

Cassidy took a few seconds to consider her mother. She believed Margaret was sincerely interested in her new job at Manhattan South, but she also believed there was something more to her mother’s visit and dinner.

“I think some of the detectives there don't like me, or they resent me for some reason,” Cassidy offered indifferently. “But it's the first day.”

Cassidy hoped her confession would satisfy Margaret’s interest in her first day at Manhattan South and cause her to move on to the next subject.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Margaret compassionately stressed.

“It doesn't matter,” Cassidy dismissed. “I just need to get up to speed on these open cases and do my job.”

“Is that what's in the box?” Margaret queried as she turned her attention back toward her dinner.

“Yeah, most of them are old cases,” Cassidy explained while carving into her food. “Two of them are recent. If I'm going to integrate with the team, I need to familiarize myself with all their open cases.”

Cassidy was not being completely truthful. Winning the acceptance of the team was a minor part of why she brought copies of the open case files home. Achieving success as a detective was the dominant motivation behind every career move that Cassidy made. The personal acceptance by her co-workers was a secondary concern to Cassidy. Proving herself to be an invaluable member of the team was a must.

Cassidy felt that making herself invaluable meant being up to speed on her team’s open cases, this was particularly true with the latest two: a bodega shooting and a stabbing at a Pier 17 rock concert. More than a dozen older cases were already copied into the NYPD’s cold case files. These latest two homicides occurred within the past two weeks and were being actively investigated by Cassidy’s team.

“I'm sure you'll do fine.” Margaret assured.

“Okay, let's talk about you now,” Cassidy asserted.

Margaret finished chewing her food before responding to Cassidy’s remark.

“What about me?”

“You're not going to keep doing this?” Cassidy gestured toward the food on the table.

“Honey, you're commuting into Manhattan now,” Margaret spoke defensively. “Your workday is getting longer, and you should be thinking about moving back home with me and your dad. There's plenty of room. The house is too big for just the two of us.”

“I'm not doing that to you and dad,” Cassidy countered with insistence.

Margaret sighed her displeasure.

“But we would love to have the kids here, and think of what you'd save on daycare costs,” Margaret disputed.

“It's not happening, mom,” Cassidy firmly insisted. “Get used to it,” she stated with finality.

Margaret shook her head in disappointment. Cassidy noted her mother’s disapproval and then went back to eating her dinner.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have a life,” Margaret spoke in a suggestive tone.

“I have a life,” Cassidy contradicted. “I have my friends, and I have my family—when they’re not nagging me.”

“Your job is taking up too much of your life,” Margaret countered. “And this new posting is just making it worst.”

“I like my job. I enjoy the work, and I’m good at it,” Cassidy stated with a scowl.

“There’s more to life than work,” a peeved Margaret insisted.

“What are you talking about, mom?” Cassidy asked with a bewildered look.

Cassidy considered the possibility that Margaret was referring to her love life, but the absence of explicit verbiage caused her to wonder if she was speaking of something else.

“What happened to David?” Margaret asked with a poker-faced stare.

Margaret’s question surprised Cassidy. David was a name they had not spoken for more than a month. Cassidy thought that her escapade with the man her mother only knew as David had been forgotten.

“David was a mistake—a big mistake,” An aggravated Cassidy insisted. “There’s no David, mom.”

Cassidy’s jittery return did not go unnoticed by Margaret.

“Yes dear.”