"Jared and Isabella are sweet to each other, too," she added, rubbing salt in my wound.

I thought of something that cheered me up.  "Can you imagine Tristan, when Ming or Cleo start dating?"

She got a real kick out of it, too.

We were still laughing when Imogen busted in on us.

We were in Bianca's painting studio, at the Vegas house.  She was painting, and I was sitting in my favorite spot, a sofa angled just perfectly to watch her work.  As always, it was a joy to watch her, one of life's greatest pleasures.  Sitting right here, in this exact spot, brought me peace, more peace than I thought I'd ever have, ever deserve.

Imogen took in the room, zeroed in on me, a brilliant smile breaking out across her face.

I smiled back.  She was drop dead gorgeous and a shameless heart breaker to boot.

She'd recently had her dark blonde hair cut into a bob with short bangs that made her eyes positively glow in her face, their brightness contrasting in a startling way with her dusky skin.

She was bouncing on her feet, her bob bouncing with her.  It was about the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

"What's going on, princess?" I asked her, knowing there was something.

She kept smiling, batting her lashes as she came and climbed on my lap.

I tousled her hair and kissed her temple.

Bianca and I shared a smile.  She was up to something, for sure.

Isabella came skipping into the room, her tangle of blonde hair flying wildly.  She scrunched her face up and blew me a kiss before heading to her own workstation beside her mother, setting up her small easel and canvas all by herself and without a word, absorbed in her task.  Bianca incarnate.

Duncan came in next, holding a phone and looking at Imogen, his expression stern.

"What's with the phone, bud?" I asked him.  He was six.  He was not old enough to need a phone.  "And whose phone is that?"

"Clark's," he said, pointing at the little angel in my lap.  "Ask her what she did."

I scooped her up and cradled her, smiling down into her guilty face.  "What did you do?"

She scrunched up her nose, craning her head to glare at her brother.  "Tattletale.  I'm going to tell Nikolaj and Jared that you're a tattletale."

"Wouldn't that just be you tattling on my tattle?  What's that going to solve?"

I tried and failed to hide my laughter.

"And I guess you get to ask them soon," Duncan added, "since you invited them over."

"How long have you had Clark's phone?" I asked.

Duncan pointed at Imogen.  "She had it.  I just now got it from her.  She's been using it to call the Vega kids.  She invited Nikolaj over for tea.  And now they're all on their way over."

I bent down and kissed the tip of her nose.  "You been talking to boys?  No more of that, princess.  Not until you're thirty."

She giggled.

I set her on her feet.  "I want you to return Clark's phone to him.  You need to say sorry, since you were the one to take it."  My tone was gentle but chiding.

As she left the room, Duncan on her heels again, I called Tristan.

"My daughter stole a phone to make a call to your son," I told him.

He laughed and laughed.  "Oh man, that is the best.  What will they do next?  My money is on them knocking off a bank.  We'll have a little Bonnie and Clyde on our hands.  Better start setting aside the bail money now."

"I heard a rumor that you're on your way over here."

"Not me, no.  Didn't you hear?"

"Hmm?"

"We're not bringing the kids over.  They left without us."

"What?  How?"

He was laughing hard.  "Imogen sent them a car and driver."