Wednesday, November 9th 1994
(Warning: The following contains explicit worm crawl footage. May not be suitable for young children, the squeamish or Lucy Coe.)

I was assisting Cook with her duties in the kitchen. We were scraping food off the luncheon plates. Cook mused. "A shame it 'tis. All this food goin' to waste; starvin' children in Belfast and they're leaving barely touched asparagus quiche on their plates."

"With just a bit of spam," I added.

Cook glared at me. "Not in my kitchen." She handed me the huge plate of scraps. "Chuck this to your li'l beasties, Reggie."

I put on my industrial strength green rubber gloves and *picked up the platter of scraps. I pulled up the lid of 'mother nature's own garbage disposal'. "Chow time, fellas," I cheerfully announced. "Oh, my god!" I gasped. My charming little worm milieu had turned into a writhing mass of invertebrates. Restive worms waved their upper regions at me menacingly. Their movements implied an impending rush to freedom. One of them flopped over the side. As I was pushing him back in, Cook peered over my shoulder. "No, don't look," I advised her. I slammed the lid shut, but she had seen too much.

She shrieked, "I knew it! I knew something like this would happen. Get those filthy maggots out of my kitchen. This is too much. Really too much, murders, dogs and now worms. I'm quitting! This is the last straw."

"Don't worry," I reassured her, "I'll take care of it." Then I remembered the last time I had 'taken care' of things and decided I had better consult Mrs. Quartermaine before proceeding.

Hesitantly I entered the living room. Through the french doors I could see Lois crossing the lawn with Annabelle. "Beg your pardon, Ma'am," I started, as Lila gave me courteous attention. "I hate to have to bring this matter to your attention at a time like this, but, ah, we have a crisis of alarming proportions."

"Oh, dear," Lila said, concerned.

"I suggest avoiding the kitchen, for the time being," I said.

Lila tried to puzzle out what the problem might be. "Does Cook have another of her migraines?" she asked.

I was a little reluctant to explain the problem in detail. "Well, Cook is threatening to quit," I stalled.

"Oh, dear," Lila repeated.

I explained, "But it's not migraines. It's worms."

Lila was incredulous. "Cook has worms?"

That was something I would rather not speculate on, so I tried to clarify. "Uh. . .ah . . . Mother Nature's Own Garbage Disposal Unit? Master Spencer?"

"Oh, yes, of course." The worms referred to were now clear to Lila.

"Yes, well, just now I lifted the lid to dispose of some table scraps from lunch and, uh, there they were; roiling around in a very threatening manner." I'm sorry this description really didn't do justice to the sight.

"Good heavens!" Lila gasped.

"Yeah, well, I think there's a distinct possibility of overflow," I told her.

"What can we do about it?" Lila asked and immediately began thinking of solutions. "Reggie, could you just scoop some of them up, and feed them to the birds?"

As much as I usually enjoy creating feeding niches in the environment, I was stricken by the suggestion. "You entrusted me with those worms," I reminded her. "And now you're asking me to choose which should live and which should die? I'm sorry ma'am, I have to draw the line *somewhere, I mean--Mr. Ashton's pseudo-wife was one thing, but these are my worms, madame." One of these days I have to take a closer look at my priorities.

"I see your point," Lila agreed. "Well, we'd better call Lucky. Tell him it's an emergency; oh, and ask him to bring over his new dog. I still feel terrible about poor Foster. I'm sure Annabelle is secretly pining for him." It was no secret to me. Annabelle had been as despondent as Mr. Ashton lately.

I acknowledged the order and went to call Lucky Spencer. I phoned from the foyer and left a message on the Spencer answering machine.

Later Lucky appeared at the french doors, Foster at his heels. As I opened the door, Lucky said, "Hi. I understand you have a worm problem?"

Lila glided up behind me. "Oh, thank heavens you're here," she greeted the boy. She spotted Foster. "Oh, is that your new dog? Isn't he lovely. And how remarkably like Foster." I tried not to roll my eyes. I can tell the difference between two worms, so I knew this was the same dog.

Lucky bluffed, "Yeah, ah, his name is Foster Two. He's from the same litter. You know, the vet said he's a genetic duplicate."

Lila bought it, or graciously pretended to. "A twin. How nice."

Small talk was all very well, but I had an environmental crisis on my hands. "Ah, worms are duplicating as we speak." I motioned towards the kitchen.

"Right, ah . . ." Lucky seemed happy to be distracted from the Foster question.

He followed me to the kitchen and peeked into the disposal. I tried not to look as he stuck his hand and pulled out one worm to examine it. He dropped it back in. "You know, I think we should set this outside right now. I think I know what the problem is."

After accomplishing this task we returned to the parlor. Lucky sat down and I went over to the sideboard for the tray of pastries. Lila waited for an explanation. Lucky took a croissant from the tray. "You know what? I think they were on the verge of a worm crawl. But we caught them just in time; thank you, Reginald." He tossed the hair out of his eyes to look over his shoulder at me.

"A worm crawl?" I asked. There's a name for this?

"Yeah. See, when some of the worms get too crowded, a bunch of them go off on a journey. To find a new home," he explained.

"Oh, a migration. How fascinating," Lila enthused. She made it sound like the subject for a National Geographic documentary.

I, on the other hand, was not thrilled with the reality. "You mean they start crawling out of the box?!"

Mr. Ashton entered the room.

"You know, they must be getting really healthy food. They're reproducing like crazy," Lucky commented. An idea came to him. "Maybe I could bring over another bin; maybe a couple of bins."

"Ah, no," I said quickly. "Thank you." Worm bins are like wives. One is plenty.

"I do think one is enough, Lucky," Lila said to back me up. "Perhaps you could remove the excess to another suitable location."

Lucky didn't want to give up the possible sale that quickly. "I know but, they're your worms, Mrs. Quartermaine."

"Well, we'd be glad to donate them to the population at large." Lila offered.

Mr. Ashton saw fit to comment. "Quartermaine worms? Mingling with the hoi polloi? How democratic." Ned's recent difficulties seemed to have imbued him with a keener sense of humor. "Lucky, as one CEO to another, the temptation is to always expand too quickly. Just remember, every new enterprise experiences a few problems," he advised the boy.

Edward came into the room. "Ah, Lucky, the entrepreneur. Be careful, Ned, this young man will end up giving ELQ a run...." He stopped, seeing Foster on the veranda. "Good Lord, he's supposed to be dead!" he exclaimed, unhappily.

"It's not Foster, sir, it's his twin," Lucky gave his story.

"An exact genetic duplicate," Lila added.

Edward was not about to support this polite fiction. "I wasn't born yesterday."

"No, sir," Lucky said, nervous at being found out.

Edward eyed Lucky suspiciously. "You know, this shows a lamentable lack of imagination. I want my money back."

Lucky pretended not to know to what he was referring "Sir?"

Edward mimicked the boy "Hmmm?" He scowled. "The five hundred clams I forked over for the new puppy! You picked up the check!" Lucky still tried to look innocent.

"Edward, stop glowering at the boy," Lila instructed. He's about to do us an enormous favor by removing some of our worms."

"Oh, wonderful. And how much are we going to pay him for that?" Edward huffed.

Lucky patted Edward's shoulder. "It's a free service. And given the situation, I don't think we should delay." The situation being that Edward wanted back the money he'd been scammed out of.

"Worm crawl," Lila said darkly.

"Yeah," Lucky looked at me. "Hey, Reg, do you have, like, a really large, strong plastic bag?"

"I'll see what I can find," I told him.

I heard Lucky as I walked away, "Mr. Quartermaine, It won't do you any harm. I've got the situation under *control; me and Foster Two, we'll be out of your way in one second. Don't worry." He soon caught up with me.

(Many thanks to Theresa McAteer (the legal chick) for providing us with the transcript of Reggie's November 9th scenes.)

Thursday November 24th 1994 - Thanksgiving Day
It was another joyful holiday in the Quartermaine household. I was hoping that it wouldn't reach quite the pinnacle that Halloween had.

I heard Lila and Monica say, just before I entered the front room, "Please!"

I came in with a tray. As I passed behind the sofa, I stopped beside Mr. Ashton to stare at the game on televsion (Cowboys/Packers.)

"What!?" the men all exclaimed at what apparently had been an objection to the entertainment.

"No television, dear, not before dinner," Lila decreed.

Edward objected. "It's not television; it's football."

"It's a big game today; come on," A.J. complained.

Monica was firmly on the anti-football side. "Couldn't we all strive for a little civilzed conversation for a change?" That would be an achievement.

"No way," said A.J..

Alan added his veto. "No!"

Edward joined their ranks with an "Harumph."

Monica moved in front of the TV screen as she went to the table. "Move, Mom!" A.J. directed.

All trace of Alan's solictious manner was gone. "Get out of the way, come on." This was football.

"Besides what do we possibly have to be civilized about?" Edward pointed out.

"Well," said Lila, "perhaps a review of our blessings might be in order."

"Ha! Blessings?" was Edward's skeptical response.

"In keeping with the holiday, Edward," Lila said gently.

Edward grumbled and got up to turn the TV off. "Oh very well." He switched it off.

"Grandfather!" A.J. objected.

"Oh, great," Alan whined.

"We will examine our lives and we will see just how much we have to be thankful for," Edward declared. He obviously didn't think there was much to be grateful about.

Ned took my tray from me and carried it to the table. "Here we go; Round One," he proclaimed.

"All right," said Edward, his voice heavy with sarcasm. *"Now I may need your help for this, but I'm going to try to be very thankful for my role as a defendant in a trial for a murder, which I didn't commit. Let's see now, I'm sure I'm a better person for that. And it's instilled humility in me to have my good name dragged through the mud. And my lawyers fees have rid my bank account of all that corrupting money.

"You're not in court today darling," Lila reminded him. "You could be thankful for that."

"Oh, and I got out early yesterdy by keeling over from stress. Now there's a blessing, hmm?" Edward said, not at all grateful.

"Oh, Edward. You have your family and you have basically good health and you have ELQ. You're really a very wealthy man." Lila's argument was convincing, but Monica's response was downbeat.

"At least they don't have the death sentence in this state, Edward," said Monica. Most people around here seem to have difficulty remembering that. Monica sat down beside Alan. "The rap I'm up against is a little more permanent."

Alan tried in good faith to think of a blessing. "I'm very grateful for how well you've come through this Monica."

Monica wasn't in a blessing mood yet. "Oh, I am grateful. Very grateful. Losing a breast was an automatic three pound loss off the bathroom scale and, despite all the promises about chemo, there's been another ten pound loss. I've always wanted to be a size zero." A bit too radical for a weight reduction plan, I thought. While she made this cheery speech I crossed the room behind Lila, and headed for the bar where I began to mix a martini for Edward.

As I was bringing the drink to Edward, Ned said, "Reginald! Double scotch." I nodded.

Edward said as I gave him the martini. "Thank you, Reginald."

"Round two," said Ned, to start off the next bout.

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful that I haven't taken a drink in months," said A.J., "Wouldn't want to slip into that warm alcoholic haze and miss all this family fun."

"Are those the soft dulcet tones of self-pity?" Alan turned on his eldest son. No, I thought, that was sarcasm; there's a difference.

Edward deflected Alan from A.J.. " Well, if we're not entitled, who is?"

Jason moved out from his position by the sofa. "You know it would be hard for some people over on Charles street to actually feel sorry for us?" That's because they don't know you very well, I thought.

"Oh, yes, and because I am a rich, white, protestant male, I'm not allowed to have problems," Edward kvetched.

"Perhaps a little perspective is in order here," said Ned. Perhaps so, but we weren't likely to get it. " Some problems are a little more transient that others."

"Oh, don't you dare compare my legal crisis with your tiffy romance with your sometimes wife," said Edward, though I don't think that's what Ned was doing.

"Say Grandfather, at least you got a shot at getting off in court, 'cause Lois ain't never gonna forgive you, Ned," A.J. could not resist getting a dig in at his least favorite cousin.

"What and miss her opportunity to bond with this unique Quartermaine family?" Monica said, with mock disbelief. Now we see where A.J. gets the nasty sarcastic streak.

Lila was exasperated. "Oh, I wish I'd never brought it up. I had no idea that you all were such a bunch of pagans." Hmm... I didn't know she had specific objections to that. I guess I'd better keep my wiccan supplies under wraps.

Jason said in an aside to Ned, "This is starting to feel like and Oprah show run amuck."

"You know," said A.J. thoughtfully, "surely somewhere there's gotta be one family that isn't dysfunctional."

Yes, I thought, they're just not in Port Charles.

I had left the Quartermaine clan to see if I could find a quiet place with a television on which to watch the rest of the game. No such luck. The door bell rang. I opened it to discover the lovely Miss Lucy, who, unfortunately, was accompanied by a duck. I had a bad feeling about this.

She pushed past me. "If you will excuse me I have a very urgent matter to discuss with Edward, and it cannot wait," she told me.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Coe." I informed her, "There's a family party going on." If you wanted to call it that. It had more of a resemblance to a wake.

That was nothing to stop Lucy Coe. "Well, so? There's not a problem there, is there? Because I used to a a Mrs. Quartermaine." I was constantly mystified by the desire of lovely young ladies, who should surely have better things to do, to join the off-center Quartermaine clan.

"Yeah, I wasn't here, but I've heard the stories," I said. These were mostly from Cook's point of view. She seemed to remember Lucy and her eating habits quite clearly. She had constantly compared Ms. Bell to her, as being just a shade worse. I glanced at the duck again.

Lucy chose to assume the tales were favorable. "Yeah, well, good, then you'll know that they hold me in the highest esteem, not only personally but as a member of the ELQ Board."

I hesitated, quite aware of in what esteem they held Lucy, and I had trouble not taking the duck and it's possible ramifications into consideration.

Lucy was impatient. "This is a very urgent matter!"

Still I didn't relish the thought of the scene that would no doubt result when I let Lucy Coe in with a bunch of depressed and sarcastic Qs.

The prospect apparently did not daunt Lucy. "So please, go announce me."

"Um... May I take your duck?" I tried.

Lucy reached for the cage protectively. "No! Just go! Go, go, go, go, go!"

I reached out and tugged her coat our of her grasp. "I'll just hang up your coat. Just wait right here." I considered it a victory that she didn't zip in unannounced.

Reluctantly, I announced Miss Lucy to the downcast family. "Uh.. Ms. Coe is here on an urgent matter."

"Perfect timing as usual, Reginald," Ned complimented me. I'm not exactly sure what he meant by that, other than that he might have been getting the worst of the family tussling.

Lucy entered behind me. "Hello, everyone!," she said perkily. "Happy turkey day and Thanksgiving and all that I hope I'm not interrupting any special little family celebration, or anything like that, but I do have a very urgent matter to discuss with you."

"Fine, well, we were just roasting chestnuts on the fire," said Alan. Perhaps that's a Quartermaine metaphor for arguing.

"I don't see any chestnuts," said Lucy. She seemed unsure if Alan was joking or the Q's had all gone mad and were toasting imaginary chestnuts.

"So what's this urgent matter," Edward said, as if he misdoubted any matter Lucy might deem urgent.

As she lifted the caged bird, Lucy exclaimed, "DUCK!" The entire family ducked. They had good reflexes for a bunch of pampered rich folks. It must come from having to watch their backs all the time.

Seeing that no shots had come Edward straightened up in his chair. "I beg your pardon," he said to Lucy.

Lucy explained. "I ordered duck for my Thanksgiving dinner, and this is what they sent me."

"I'm sure there's a story here," Jason intoned.

A.J. added sarcastically. "Unless we're lucky, I'm sure we're gonna hear it."

Ned had moved over by the fireplace. "It looks a little bit underdone," he commented to Lucy.

Lucy pouted. "Thanks to the chef at the Port Charles Grille."

Edward was horrified. "You got a live duck at the Grille?"

"No," said Lucy, "but I did go there to ask for their help in preparing this poor bird's untimely demise and Carl and the staff were definitely unhelpful." Carl? They must have finally given James a holiday off. I hadn't felt I was in a postion to ask for it this year.

Oh, I can't imagine," Monica said dryly.

"So why are you here?" Edward said, still unclear on her urgent matter.

"Because, I am... excuse me," Lucy began making her way towards Edward, cage in hand, stumbling over the feet of the Qs in between. "...excuse me, sorry...," she apologized before coming to stand in front of Edward. "I am a *shareholder of ELQ which means I am part owner of the Grille. I'm very unhappy with the way it's being run and I'm also very unhappy about lugging this feathered friend of mine all over the place and, Edward I want to know what you're going to do to make me happy again." Lucy put forth her egoistic request.

A.J. addresed his cousin Ned from across the room. "Gee, cousin, it's your company, it's your hotel. Now what are you going to do to help Lucy out?" There was more than a glint of the devil in Junior's eyes.

Edward picked up the thread. "Yes, Ned, What are you going to do?"

"Me?" Ned asked, with that practiced innocent look.

"You!" The Qs said in unison, always so supportive of one another.

Lucy made her way across the room to Ned. " Well, Lucy," he said. "Surely you appreciate that Thanksgiving is one of the busiest days of the year at the Grille and undoubtedly the staff had their hands full."

"Oh, so they were too full and too busy to help out one of their owners?" Lucy said petulantly.

"They were very busy protecting your investment. The more happy customers, the bigger the return," Ned rationalized.

"Oh, good one Ned," was Alan's listless praise. A.J. stirred things up again. "Yeah, but what about her duck, Ned?"

"Yes, Ned, what about my duck?" Lucy said as she handed him the cage.

Ned looked uncomfortable. "Uh... thank you, A.J.," he glared at his cousin. A.J. raised his glass of seltzer to Ned. "Lucy, I'm sure we can work something out," Ned was saying as I wandered too close to the main action. "Can't we, Reginald?" Ned surprised me by shoving the cage, duck and all, into my arms.

"Excuse me?!" I said.

Ned said, "Isn't there something you can do to help out Miss Coe? Like take the duck out back someplace and uh..." He was clearly implying that I should wring it's little neck.

Ned moved me around to the bar. "You want me to do in the duck?" I asked. It figures. Admit to one little unscheduled task and they expect you to do it all the time. Well, it's not in my job description!

Ned smiled, "Works for me."

Lucy was obviously taken with the idea. "Yes, please, please, please, please, Reginald."

"I'm sorry," I said as I glanced down into those little ducky eyes. "I like to think that I give my all in service of the family, but I gotta draw the line with canardicide."

Alan added the word to his vocabulary. "Canardicide? Lila questioned me, "Reginald, I thought you drew the line at worms."

"Well, worms and ducks, Ma'am," I said. Was I going to have to draw up an entire list of animals I wouldn't exterminate, and add periodically as I learned of additional species. In light of my recent confession a blanket statement was now difficult.

Ned brought in the economic factor. "I'll make it worth your while," he told me.

I winced. This was even worse. Ned was looking at me as a paid asssasin. "Please don't ask me to compromise my fundamental principles," I implored.

"Oh, for the love of Mike," Edward growled. I was very uncomfortable with everyone in the room except Jason and Lucy believing that I was adhering to some strange double standard.

"Look, Reginald," said Lucy, "I will grovel, I will plead, I will get down on my knees." This was an interesting image, but certainly a sight that should be more private. And in that red dress she might have considerable difficulty getting back up again.

"I'd rather ya didn't," I passed the cage back to her.

"Well, what am I supposed to do with him. You know, I just can't carry him around all day. You know he is getting rather heavy. And actually I'm getting attached to the little fellow," She looked tenderly at the duck.

Lila, either touched by the sentiment or incurably polite, offered, "Perhaps you'd like to join us for a drink, Lucy? While we consider the possibilities." There were horrified gasps all around.

Edward was hopelessly trying to signal Lila with cutting motions. "No, no, no, no," he discouarged the proposition.

Lucy gleefully ignored the apprehension. "Mother Quartermaine, isn't that very sweet of you to ask," She looked over at me. "I will have a wine spritzer. I could really use one. It's so nice of you to ask me to join in your little family festivities here, especially considering your family being under so much pressure these days. You know with Edward under trial, like he is, you know. I can't believe that Jack Boland said all those terrible things about you on the stand like he did, Edward." She had traversed the small space again to reach Mr. Q's armchair, where she deposited the duck on his lap. "How could he do that? I mean haven't you two been partners for years and years and years, just forever?" she said tactlessly.

"Well, umm... circumstances have terminated that unfortunate relationship," Edward hedged as he tried to peer over the cage.

"Of course, I'm sorry," Lucy said not very contritely "He was murdered, wasn't he?" She called over to me, "Could I have a lemon with that wine spritzer?" She continued to Edward and the Qs gathered behind him. "You don't think Sean supposes that any of you had anything to do with that, do you?" I suppressed a snicker. Sean supposed many things, but he had yet to prove any of them.

Monica chastised the unwelcome guest, "Uh, Lucy, it was this kind of discussion that caused Edward to collapse on the stand. Do you mind if we change the subject?" Monica had begun to look tired and went to sit on the sofa.

Lucy, mostly to avoid Edward's attempts to get her to take the bird back, sat down on the the couch beside her. "Monica, I am sorry. I certainly wouldn't want to upset you, of all people. I know you need to conserve your energy, but Bobbie has told me your treatments are going very, very well." Edward handed the cage to Jason.

"Thank you for your concern," Monica said suspiciously. I, myself, wondered how Bobbie and Lucy had entered into a civilized conversation about Monica's health. It seemed most likely that Lucy had only overheard something.

"You know, she also mentioned that you're going to a support center in Arizona," Lucy shared.

"I'm not going until after Edward's trial," Monica said flatly. Jason had given the duck to his father.

"Really, well, I do think it's wonderful that the two of you can spend time together and get together to concentrate on getting you better."

"I'm not going." Alan said as he sat down next to Lucy.

"Why not? I guess I really shouldn't ask that. It's kind of rude. Sorry," Lucy apologized.

"Yes, that's right. Monica prefers to do this independently," said Alan as he put the cage back in Lucy's arms.

"Really, well, gee, Monica aren't you very lucky. I think most families in this situation, that kind of decison could generate a lot of tensions between everyone," I don't know if Lucy actually hoped that was the case or not, but her next comment was definitely a dig. "But of course Alan you know you've always been such a supportive husband to whoever you've been married to."

Hoping to momentarily stem the flow of words I announced that her drink was ready. "Your spritzer," I said.

Lucy got up with the duck, "Ah, thank you, Reginald," She had some difficulty accepting the drink with the cage in her hand. Finally I ended up with the duck, as she took her drink and the little blue napkin that went with it. "Listen you don't suppose perhaps, maybe you could change your mind about this decision, could you?" she asked.

"Sorry," I stood by my decision, and wondered how to divest myself of the duck.

A.J. approached us and said, "Look before you showed up we were all discussing everything we had to be thankful for," I handed A.J. the duck. If he was going to put in his two cents then he deserved to be in on the duck end of the evening. He juggled the cage and said. "Pretty high up on the list is you helping us to get rid of Damian and Katherine. So I guess we still sorta owe you."

"Ah, well, thank you, A.J.," she said,. "That's very sweet. Shall we drink to it?" She took a gulp of her wine *spritzer, but A.J. the reformed alchoholic was unable to join her. Too late Lucy realized her faux pas. "Oh, A.J. sorry," He handed her the duck.

Lucy sat the duck down on the sideboard and took aim at another family member. "Well, Jason did you happen to mention to all your lovely family that we ran into each other at Pier 52?"

"No," said Jason. "It must have slipped my mind somehow." I suspected it had been way, way down on his agenda.

Lucy forged blissfully ahead. "Well, I thought it was really nice to see you two having such fun. He and Keesha Ward were running around putting posters up, you know, flyers, announcing the meeting opposing the incinerator project." Lucy must have been well aware of the tension her statement would cause. She reminded me of someone poking a snake with a stick, out of malicious curiosity to see how it would react.

Ned said casually, "Jason spares no efforts to let us know how he feels on that subject."

Lucy continued on her track. "Oh, I think Keesha is a lovely girl, but isn't it a little bit awkward, you know, you being from your family and her being from her family?"

Jason glowered at her. "I don't think I've ever stopped to look at it quite that way before, Lucy. Thank you."

Having managed to nettle practically everyone but Lila, Lucy said. "Well, well, well, well," as she went to the sideboard for her duck "...I think perhaps, maybe, I better be running along so I can find a real solution to my dinner companion problem here." She started towards the door.

A.J., now seated on the couch, put in his parting shot, "Well, be careful on the road Lucy, you wouldn't want to have a 'quack up'."

"I'll just ignore that little remark because the rest of your family has been so kind in sharing their holiday cheer," said Lucy. In fact they had been most hospitable under the circumstances.

Jason could not resist joining the game. "Don't mind my brother; he's a wise 'quacker'."

"I've got to go now," Lucy insisted, before the puns got more fowl, I imagine. "Oh Ned, listen, do give my best regards to your little wife," Lucy could not resist taking the final word. "I do think she's a marked improvement over Katherine. Come, on Ducky. Ta." She clattered out and I closed the door behind her.

Monica sighed. "Nothing like a quiet family holiday, is there?"

And this was nothing like one. I had taken enough of the cheery Quartermaine demeanor and went to help Cook set out the holiday dinner.

By the time I got back the conversation had not improved. "Oh, damn my blood pressure. Is this family ever going to pull itself together," Edward was complaining.

"Dinner is served," I announced.

"And damn dinner too," Edward blustered. "I want the priorities straightened out right here and now." I felt Annabelle brush past me, probably disconcerted by Edward's tone.

I was a bit lost here. This family had priorities?

Monica was firm. "The priority, Edward, is a modicum of self control on your part, some responsible attention paid to your health, while you still have the power to control it, before you work yourself up to a full blown heart attack. Haven't you heard anything we've been saying to you?"

Edward was far from mollified. "Monica, you are testing the limits of my respect and affection."

Monica was not going to coddle Mr. Edward. "Tough noogies! Now chill out, Edward."

"Nicely put, Monica," said Alan. "Father, sit down."

Edward scowled. "I will not be patronized, or condescended to, by my own son."

"That's too bad, because you won't listen to reason either," Alan contended.

The argument continued and I slipped out of the room as it didn't appear things were going to grow more civilized.

But, I heard Lila who had also grown tired of the bickering. "I want each and everyone of you to stop where you are this minute and plant yourself in a chair and listen to me." I went back to the kitchen.

I was there listening to Cook's monologue and the familiar buzz of distant Quartermaine quarreling, when I heard an uneasy silence. Wondering what had been sufficent cause to stifle the Qs, I made for the dining room. The entire family was standing in the dining room door, looking aghast at the spectacle of destruction. I waded in and soon spotted the turkey, which tipped me off that this had been an act of dog. The refined Annabelle was apparently not above larceny.

"We've decided to order pizza, Reggie," Mrs. Quartermaine informed me.

"Good idea," I agreed. "If you'll all wait in the living room, I'll get this mess cleaned up."

"We'll help," Ned volunteered himself and his two cousins. While they started picking up I went in to break the bad news to Cook. The Quartermaine's would have a lot to be thankful for if they didn't have to put a help wanted ad in the paper tomorrow for a new cook.

With the mess finally cleaned up, new dishes set out, and Annabelle still decidedly missing, the family had sat down for the Thanksgiving meal.

I brought in the feast; pizza, thick crust. "Just delivered. Cook crisped it slightly at five hundred degrees," I told them as I sat it down in front of Edward. To be more exact Cook had grabbed the box out of my hands and said that no Thanksgiving dinner was going on the Quartermaine table until it had been in her oven.

"Thank you, Reggie," Lila said. "Tell Cook, well *done."

"Actually, I think she's fallen on her carving knife," I said. They thought I was joking, but things had taken a very unpleasant turn in the kitchen.

I was starting towards the door as Lila said, "Oh, Edward, dear, before you start to carve.... the song."

And though I immediately headed for the east wing the strains of the traditional Quartermaine Thanksgiving song followed me down the hall.

"We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing.
He chastens and hastens, his will to make known.
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing.
Sing praises to his name; he forgets not his own."

No doubt, I'm going to catch hell from Cook for this!

November 29th 1994
I was just going into the parlor with some more tea and saw, to my surprise that Edward was on the floor. Alan and Lee were hovering over him. While they did that, I put down the tray and leapt to the phone and dialed 911. I explained what had happened.

"That's right, Edward Quartermaine, 66 Harborview Road. Hurry!" I confirmed the details for them.

"Father, Father. Can you hear me? It's Alan," Alan said as he took Edwards pulse and tried to awaken him. Lee was muttering something as I hung up the phone, but I couldn't make it out.

Edward opened his eyes. "Alan?"

"You just hang in there, okay?" Alan comforted his father.

"What happened?" Edward asked, still somewhat disoriented.

"It's all right," said Alan. "You wre going on about Jack Boland. You collapsed. Come on. We're going to take you to the hospital."

I moved around the table to help Alan and Lee assist Edward to his feet.

"No, no. It's not necessary," Edward protested weakly. "Yes, it is necessary," Alan insisted. "You just save your breath. Come on. The ambulance is on the way."

"Oh, no," Edward moaned as we helped him into the chair.

"I'm going to call Schultz and Stannis; arrange a continuance of the trial," Lee said as he dashed for the phone.

Edward reached out towards his wife, "Lila," it was unusual to hear that beseeching note in the voice of the gruff Edward.

Lila, perilously close to tears, took his hand. "I'm right here, darling." She stayed at his side until the paramedics arrived a short time later.

Over his continued protests they examined him and strapped him in. "I'll be all right, Honey," he assured Lila as they wheeled him out. Lee followed them out.

Lila was not comforted. "What is happening to him?" was her anguished question.

Alan stopped to talk to his distraught mother. "I can't make a diagnosis, Mother."

"But you're a Doctor. Surely you have some idea," Lila pleaded.

"Listen to me. He had a brief syncopal episode. He fainted. It could be due to his heart condition," Alan conjectured.

"A heart attack," Lila asked.

"Don't say that, Mother. Don't jump to any conclsions. We're going to take him to the hospital. We'll find out what we're dealing with there," Alan told her.

Lee popped back into the room. "Alan!" he said urgently. Apparently the ambulance was about to leave.

"I'm coming," Alan told him and then spoke to Lila again. "I'm going to go to the hospital. I'll call you as soon as we know anything." He rose and went towards the door.

"I should be with him," Lila fretted. "No, you shouldn't," Alan said firmly. "You just stay here and wait for my call, okay?" He rushed out.

"Oh, what more can happen to us?" Lila asked the universe in general.

I moved across the room and took Alan's place on the couch. "It's best not to ask, Ma'am. I'm here if you need anything," I told her.

"Thank you, Reggie," Lila almost smiled.

"Is there anything you want?" I asked her.

"Your prayers," said Lila, "Because if anything happens to Edward, I..." She was trembling at the thought.

"It won't," I hastily reassured her. "He's too..." I searched for a word, "...Ornery."

"Well, I suppose you have a point there," said Lila and I was delighted to see a hint of a smile on her face.

"Not to mention, strong and healthy," I added. "He's going to come through this just fine. With everything that's happening around here, one thing after the other, I'm surprised we're not all dropping like flies," I said, letting some of my own anxiety seep in, I'm afraid.

"Maybe we should try to contact Ned," Lila suggested.

I disagreed, "I think that would be precipitous. It think it's best just to wait quietly," I empahsised quiet. "Until we hear from Dr. Quartermaine. And then we'll decide what to do."

Lila relaxed slightly and I could barely hear her words, "Thank you."

I waited with her until Alan's call came, saying that Edward would be all right.