Previously on Sins of the Fathers
--- Aron was assaulted when he tried to see Viola
--- Annette refused to talk to Ren, about business or anything else
--- Clay and Miranda met at the falls
--- Trey considered running for mayor
--- Hasting tried to control his attraction to Tiffany 
Rosa took a deep breath and opened the heavy door to St. George's homeless shelter. She was nervous, not about volunteering, she wanted to do that. But she knew that Aron Hasting ran the shelter, and she was afraid he wouldn't want her there. Oh, he wouldn't refuse her. From what she understood, the shelter always needed volunteers, but she didn't want to work with him under tense conditions. In Rosa's opinion, the only way to diffuse a strained situation was to confront it directly. So that was what she intended to do.
She looked around the shelter. The large common room, which had formerly served as St. George's parish hall, was empty except for a stack of plastic chairs, seven long tables, and several folded cots. On the far wall hung a painted sign proclaiming: "These three remain, faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love." The doors to the cafeteria-style kitchen were closed, but its lights were on. Rosa approached the kitchen and called, "Hello?"
After a moment, Aron appeared. He looked very different than she remembered, but of course, it had been years. He stood and looked at her, then said, "Rosa."
She smiled. "Yes." Suddenly, she felt horribly awkward. "I want to be here," she blurted out.
Aron gave a tense, breathy laugh. He nodded. "Good," he said.
"That sounded weird, didn't it? Let me start over. Um, Aron, I would like very much to volunteer here. I've been wanting to for a few months, but I always stayed away because I thought... I think it's stupid for me to let my sister's relationship with you prevent me from helping others, and I decided that you would feel the same way."
Aron adjusted his glasses. "You were right. I am happy for your help."
"Good. So... how have you been?"
"Good."
"Great." She ran her hand through her hair. "Do you know how funny you look in that collar?"
They laughed, and the brittleness between them dissolved into a tentative feeling of good will. Aron said, "My sister Meredith still thinks they're going to come take it back."
"I bet. So do they call you priest or..."
"Priest is fine. Some people call me minister." He paused. "You can just call me Aron."
"Okay, Aron. So what do we do?"
"Well, it's early still. I won't have anybody here for lunch until after eleven. So I was just putting the casseroles in the oven. You can cut up some fruit for me."
They went to the kitchen and prepared lunch. Rosa enjoyed the work, not entirely for selfless reasons. She'd leveled with Aron and gotten the strange part over with, but she didn't know what else to say to him. The most obvious topic between them was Viola. "But," she thought, "how can I talk about her? Say she's depressed? She's medicated? She rarely leaves her room? Ever since you left her she's been fragile at best? I don't know how to tell him that." As she sliced bananas and peaches, she accepted that Aron would eventually ask about her sister, and she decided to take control of the situation. "I suppose you want to know about Viola," she said.
"Well," said Aron, "I was, um... yes."
Rosa was pleased that her back was to him. "She's fine," Rosa lied.
"Good. Yes, I've thought of her many times."
Rosa bit her tongue and turned her full attention back to preparing lunch.
They both seemed eager to prolong the work. After Rosa made her rudimentary fruit salad, she arranged stacks of paper plates. Then she rearranged them. Aron swept the floor and wiped down the counters. At last, however, they were left with nothing to do, and countless questions filled the silence between them.
Aron leaned against the wall. He smiled at her, then looked down at the floor.
Rosa twisted the bottom of her tee shirt.
"So she's doing well?" Aron asked.
Rosa nodded.
"I think about her a lot."
"Yes, you said that."
"Oh, yes. I was thinking... maybe she would like to work here with us sometime. We always need an extra pair of hands."
Rosa hesitated but then looked Aron directly in the eye and said, "I think she would like to, Aron, but Viola really doesn't go out much."
"She doesn't?"
"No."
He sighed. "I've heard that she's... sad... a lot."
"Yes, she's..." Rosa felt a tension in her chest, and it was slowly creeping up into her throat. She took a deep breath and continued, "I wasn't going to say anything to you, Aron. I feel like it's betraying her somehow, but now I'm here, and... She doesn't have a lot of people. Do you care about her still?"
"I do," he assured her.
Rosa blinked hard. "I don't know what you can do for her---"
"If there's anything, Rosa."
"Yes, I think maybe... will you talk to her, Aron?"
He frowned. "I don't know how."
"I know you haven't seen her in so long, but she's the same person, Aron."
"No, Rosa, I mean, physically. I don't know how to get to her."
"You can come to the house."
"I don't think so." He moved closer to Rosa and lowered his voice. He said, "I think we need to come up with a way to get her out of there."
"Out of...?"
"Out of your house, Rosa. She needs to get away."
Rosa backed away from him. "Aron, I don't know what you're thinking, but---"
"That's the reason she's sick. She needs kindness, not---"
"Not what? What are you implying?"
"Rosa, I don't want to speak ill of your father---"
"Then don't."
"Rosa---"
"No, Aron. I won't hear it. Luc is a good man and a good father, and he's doing everything he can for Viola. It's you, Aron! You're the one that hurt her!" Rosa sobbed and covered her face with her hands. After a moment, she raised her eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry, Aron. I guess I shouldn't have come here after all."
"No," he said, "no, I provoked you."
"I didn't mean what I said, Aron."
"Of course you did. You're exactly right. I hurt Viola, and I would give anything to take that back. Rosa, please believe me when I tell you that I have missed her every day since I left."
"Then why did you leave her?"
"I can't tell you the exact reason, but Rosa, this is important. Your father wanted me to. I shouldn't have gone along with it, and I will always be ashamed that I did, but you must know that your father does not have her happiness at heart."
Rosa shook her head. "Luc?"
"Yes."
"He knew you were going to leave her?"
"He insisted."
"But that's not possible. He told her--- he swore he had no idea. He said he'd asked you--- It can't be true, Aron!"
"What Rosa? What did he say?"
"Aron. Luc said that he asked you what your intentions toward her were. He said that you wouldn't answer him, that you just left town the next day."
"Oh, no, Rosa, that's not what happened at all. He--- I can't tell you, but believe me it's not like he said. I swear to you that didn't happen."
"But if he didn't ask you that---" Rosa swallowed hard, but it was too late. Tears gushed from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. "Aron," she sobbed.
"What is it? What's the matter?"
She collapsed in his arms. "I didn't want to believe it. I... Ren has always said, but Aron, he's been so good to me. He took me in, and I've wondered at times, but... He's secretive, but I always thought he wanted what's best for people."
"Rosa, I---"
"He lied, Aron! He lied to her face. He told her he couldn't believe you left. Oh, God! He lies like it's breathing." She pulled back from him and wiped the tears from her face. "I can't stand deceit, Aron. You swear I can believe you?"
"Yes, I want to help her. It hurts me, knowing she's miserable."
"Okay," she said. "What do we need to do?"
"We need to figure out how to get her out of there, as soon as possible."
**************** 
Clay paused before stepping out of the elevator on Ren's floor. He wanted to leave the note for Miranda. They hadn't seen each other in five days, which was way too long, but he didn't want to deal with Ren. He might not be home, and that would be best, but Ren was usually home. He often wanted Clay to come in. Clay smirked remembering how Ren had once tried to bribe him with a beer.
He wished he could bypass Ren anyway, but Miranda was paranoid. It was cool. He didn't really care that much, and she was worth the hassle. He didn't mean that in a sweet way; he wasn't a sweet guy. He really meant that Miranda was worthwhile. She was unique, able to just go with things, any feeling, any moment. Clay had observed that in her almost immediately, and he saw how it set her apart from everyone around her. He wanted to touch that, whatever that specialness was, and once he did, he wanted more. And that was what brought him here, every week, to Ren Sidarus' penthouse.
He slipped the note under Ren's door and turned away quickly, but not quickly enough.
"Clay!" Ren called, "How are you?"
Clay faced him. "Great," he said.
"Yeah, man, me too."
"Good to know. Later."
"Hey, Clay, wanna come in for a minute?"
"Thanks, Ren, but I've got places to be."
"Well, actually, I have something to ask you."
"Okay. Shoot."
"It'd be better if you came in."
Clay nodded and entered the apartment.
"Can I get you a beer?" Ren asked as he closed the door.
Clay smiled. "No thanks, man, it's a little early for me. So what do you want?"
"Well, why don't you sit down?"
Clay sat on the sofa. "Okay," he said.
"Okay, Clay, I can tell I should get right to the point."
"Yeah."
"I need some help with your sister."
"Annette."
"Has she said something about me?"
"No, but when people say they need help with my sister, they mean Annette."
Ren smiled. "That doesn't surprise me. She's something else."
Clay shrugged. "You're interested in her?" he asked.
"No, that's not what I'm talking about. I want to hire her. I don't know if Miranda's told you, I'm starting a magazine?"
"No."
"Oh. Well, I am, and I need your sister to give me some models."
"Sounds like you've got it under control."
"I don't. She won't even talk to me."
Clay nodded. "Well, uh, Annette's got a mind of her own. I don't know how I can help you out here."
"I give your messages to my sister."
"Yeah, but your sister likes me. Don't see what I can do for you."
"Clay, I need some advice, okay? How do I get Annette to talk to me?"
Clay realized he had to tell Ren something. He wasn't getting out of there until he provided an answer. "I'd send her flowers," he said.
Ren eyed Clay skeptically. "Flowers?" he asked.
"Sure, girls dig flowers."
"She doesn't seem like the type."
"Oh, no, man, it'll work. Go for it."
Ren smiled. "Okay. Thanks, Clay, I really appreciate it."
"No problem."
Ren shook Clay's hand. "I'll let you know how it goes."
"Oh yeah," Clay said as Ren walked him to the door.
Ren said, "Later, Clay," and shut the door.
Clay chuckled in the hall. "Yeah, man, flowers," he said as he shook his head.
**************** 
"He looks like the Monopoly man, just like a good mayor should, Trey!"
Trey was sick of Annette's teasing. He'd tolerated it for a couple of weeks, but his patience was wearing thin. They were sitting in the living room of the Montgomery house, and Annette was playing the piano, almost as easily as she was playing him.
Fortunately for Trey, Clayton was also with them, so their conversation had a semblance of reason. "Now if Trey wants to run against the Bevins machine---" Clayton said.
"See, it's a political machine, Annette, someone should feel obligated to run against it. Freeing the masses, isn't that up your alley?"
"No, Trey, what I'm saying is that he's been mayor for so long, most people don't even bother voting---"
"Exactly, the Bevins machine isn't powerful; people just don't think there's an alternative."
Annette raised her eyebrows about three feet. "Trey," she said, "Oliver Bevins does not have some kind of iron hand over Carmine Falls. I think he's a big softy."
"His wife certainly keeps jabbing at Serena, though," Clayton noticed.
"Oh yes," Annette agreed, "Meredith Hasting Bevins is a force to be reckoned with. 'Mind Your Manners' and blah, blah, blah... How about some Cole Porter, Dad?"
"No way," Trey said. "You're not changing the subject that easily."
"Trey! This mayor thing has become a serious bore. Dad, tell him to make up his mind already."
"You should go ahead and announce, son, if you're really determined to do this."
"Of course I am. Do you know that not one Montgomery has ever been the mayor? As long as we've lived here, not one."
"Meaning: we should get our piece."
"No, sister dear, meaning why don't we step up to the plate?"
"The Montgomerys have never lusted for power, Trey," Clayton gently reminded him.
"And I don't either, Dad. But I can't help feeling..."
"Ambitious," Clayton thought, "yes, he's always been ambitious." He sighed and said, "Well, it sounds like you've already made up your mind."
"He has, Dad. He just wants us to fawn over him like he's Thomas Jefferson. Washington crossing the Delaware." Annette glimpsed Trey's face and knew she was pushing it too far. "And of course you are," she said. "I think your aspirations are inspiring."
"Thank you, Annette. People are sick of Bevinstown. They need something fresh." He winked at her and said, "After all, what has he got that I haven't got?"
"I can think of one thing, other than the perfect look for a mayor, that is."
"I'm holding my breath. Please, Annette, enlighten me."
"I'm serious. He has one major advantage, the aforementioned Meredith Hasting Bevins."
"She's a shrew! Dad, you don't think---"
"I decline to comment, son."
"I don't mean because she's so great, Trey. I mean simply because she exists."
"What?"
She sighed and shut the piano in frustration. "He has a wife. What successful politicians are single?"
Trey had no answer.
"See? Dad, tell him. Mayors are supposed to be family men, with wives who knit and lots of plump children."
Clayton chuckled. "She has a point."
"Dad, you can't believe that would matter."
"It certainly will," Annette said. "After all, if you don't have a wife, who will host your garden parties and cut the ribbon when the zoo expands?"
"Well, maybe you could, Annie," Clayton suggested.
"No, thank you. Besides, I'm sure Trey wouldn't want me representing his conservative regime."
"Annette," Trey said, "you might actually have a point there. It's stupid---"
"I beg your pardon?"
"That people expect the mayor to be married, I mean. It's ridiculous, but I think it might be true."
Annette smiled. "So you're not running after all."
"No, I'm not saying that. I need to get a wife."
"It's not like buying a dog, son."
"I know that, Dad, but there may be somebody staring me in the face. Maybe there's someone I would love to marry, and I've just never thought of it before."
"You sure do want to be mayor," Annette remarked.
"You can't get married in time to announce a run," Clayton said, and the lines in his forehead told Trey that his father was genuinely concerned.
Trey smiled. "I know, Dad. It was just a crazy idea. I've got to get going anyway."
"I probably do, too," Annette said.
"Well, no need to run off," Clayton assured them.
Trey said, "I know, but I brought some work home, and I should get it done."
"All right," Clayton said, "but you are coming to supper tomorrow night, aren't you?"
"Sure," Trey said, "I'll be here."
"I forgot about that," Annette said. "Please tell me there aren't going to be any people I don't like."
"I don't think so, Annie. Just you kids. And Serena's hoping that Tiffany will make it."
Trey stopped in his tracks. "Tiffany?"
"Yes, we haven't seen her in a while, and Serena's counting on her coming tomorrow."
"Great," Trey said. "I would love to see her, too."
Annette watched her brother suspiciously as he left the room.
**************** 
Tiffany took a long drag off her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.
"You know, I thought you quit," Hasting said.
She shrugged. "I tried it out. Didn't take."
They were parked in an unmarked car down the street from Nick Rhodes' house. They knew from an informant that Rhodes was their man. He was distributing heroin for a large supplier. They'd been parked there with wiretap equipment for over two hours, waiting for him to get a phone call from their favorite pusher, Frances Baker, and making sure he didn't run any unusual errands. So far, Nick hadn't left the house, but his girlfriend and a telemarketer had phoned.
Tiffany's mouth was set in a taut line. She stared at Nick's yard.
"Nervous?" Hasting asked.
"Yeah. That we won't catch him fast enough."
Hasting watched her for a moment. He said, "You're wound up tighter than a cheap watch, Tiff. Why so tense?"
"I hate this guy, Hasting. I really hate him."
"You're never like this."
"I've been screwing around with dime-a-dozen street hoods. Don't get me wrong, they all get what's coming to them, and I'm happy to oblige, but this guy... he's hurting God-knows-how-many kids, Hasting, every day. Don't you want to get him?"
"It'll happen, Princess. No need to get strung out about it."
"Hell yeah, it'll happen. Scum like that always goes down, but I get off when I take them out personally."
"And you will. We wait for Frances to call and make arrangements for the exchange, and we bust him while they're trying to pull it off. That way we get Rhodes, we get all the dope, and we get the guy that's bringing it into the country. And that's what we want. It'll all go off perfectly as long as we stick to the plan. No shooting from the hip on this one, got it?"
Tiffany was silent.
"Got it?" Hasting repeated.
"Yeah." She glared at him. "What?"
"I get the feeling you're keeping something from me."
"Well, I'm not."
"Well, I think you are."
"Jesus, Hasting, you're my partner. You're the only person I don't keep secrets from, okay? It's not like I'm having pillow talk with anybody lately."
"Either way, I hope you wouldn't be telling your boyfriends about this."
She smiled. "Only one way you'll ever know, isn't there?"
"Don't start, Tiff."
"I haven't. But I could."
"Look, you promised me that you would quit this."
"Okay. Just trying to keep my mind off of Rhodes. That's what you wanted me to do, and now you're mad at me for it."
"The only two things you think about are busting Nick Rhodes and jumping me?"
"I'm a very focused person. You know what that means."
Hasting clenched his jaw. "Yeah, it means I need a new partner."
"When hell freezes over maybe. Okay, Hasting, I'm sorry. So, you wanna play cards?"
"Five card draw?"
"It's lame with two people. What about---"
The light on their wiretap recorder flashed. They held their breath as Nick answered. After an interminable silence, they heard the response: "Yeah, man, i's Frances."
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