Episode 59, originally published 22-Aug-97

Honey Laundering

Sharon enters her living room to find Cassie holding an armload of sheets. "I'm confused," says Cassie. "Where are the washing machines?" "There aren't any washing machines, Honey," Sharon explains. "But how do the clothes get clean?" Cassie asks. "Well, Miguel does them." "Wow!" says Cassie, her eyes widening. "That's REALLY nice of him." "Oh, he's not just doing it to be nice, Sweetie. It's his job. I'm sure he's paid well for it." "You mean you don't pay him yourself?" "Nope. But I'm sure somebody does. When you're rich, you learn not to ask too many questions." Cassie becomes very silent. "Cassie, are you ok?" Sharon finally asks. "I was pretending that I was rich and had learned not to ask too many questions." Sharon laughs. "Oh, I didn't mean you, Cassie. Even if YOU get rich, you can still ask lots of questions. Little girls have to ask questions or they won't learn things." Cassie looks suddenly very relieved.

"So what IS that bundle of sheets in your arms?" Sharon asks. "Just some sheets that need washing. But don't worry. I'll be happy to wash them. Millie taught me how. And I don't want to be any trouble." "Well, that's very nice of you Cassie, and it was nice of Millie to show you how, but sheets only have to be washed when they've been used." "That's why I'm washing them--they're all yucky and smelly. I don't think Grace remembered to wash them when she and Nicholas used them. So I decided I'd better," Cassie says. "Grace and Nicholas used them? You must be mistaken." "No, I don't think so. They've been talking about whether to `air their dirty laundry' for weeks. Nicholas keeps saying he should tell you. And then Grace always says `no'. I guess they don't want to be any trouble either." Sharon looks puzzled. "Their dirty laundry?" Cassie holds up the sheets. "These sheets, I guess. They keep talking about how messy things have gotten. And Grace always tells Nicholas that you don't need to know. I guess she feels very bad and was going to come wash them herself." Cassie stops for a moment while Sharon digests all of this, then continues. "I keep trying to get her to come visit so we can clean up but she never does. But now I'm here, so I figured *I* should wash them. Then I could tell her it's not messy any more. And maybe Nick and Grace could stop fighting." She looks up at Sharon for approval. Sharon is lost in thought but strokes Cassie's head absent-mindedly. "Nick and Grace--you're sure?" "Yes, I am. Very sure. But I think they're embarrassed. So don't tell them I told you. Nicholas is always saying it was an accident." "An accident?" She nods. "I have accidents sometimes, too, and it messes up the sheets. So I know how he feels. That's why Millie showed me how to wash things after."

"Cassie, why don't you let me give that laundry to Miguel to do." "Ok, if you're sure it wouldn't be any trouble." "Don't worry. Miguel is Hispanic. Of course he wouldn't mind." Cassie hands her the bag of laundry and goes back upstairs. Nick enters just as Sharon is leaving to find Miguel. "Nicholas!" she says with a slight bit of surprise. She holds up the laundry. "What's this?" he asks. "The sheets from Noah's room. Cassie told me about you and Grace." Nick blushes and looks very flustered. "Cassie? She wasn't even there the night--well, nothing happened really--I mean, nothing intentional. It was just a big accident." Sharon raises one eyebrow and looks both angry and skeptical. He continues to flounder. "You remember I'd been out drinking. And I came home, and I was saying good night to Noah, and I turned, and--tripped and fell into the bed where Grace was sleeping. Well, I'd really had a LOT to drink and I kinda peed in my pants. Well, I THINK it was pee... and it was PROBABLY my pants... but whatever I did, I mean IF I did, it wasn't intentional and it didn't MEAN anything. And Grace--she was there when I came... in... when I came in.... when I came into the room, I mean.... and she didn't know what to do. And I didn't even know what I'd done until I went upstairs and tried to do it again with you after I'd bathed. I mean, I didn't know it was `again' because I didn't know what happened the first time. But when I couldn't do it again, I guessed I must have, uh, look I'll go find Miguel and get these sheets washed and you--uh..."

"I'll be packing!" Sharon says as Nick starts to leave. He stops and turns to her. "Packing?" "Nicholas, I'm just not sure I can do this!" "But I didn't mean anything, really--" "It's not that, Nicholas." "What then?" "Nicholas, if it ever came to light that my husband had accidentally..." She pauses. Then she continues, seemingly omitting something. "... with my best friend... I'd be too embarrassed." "About the infidelity...?" "No, Nicholas, about how stupid you are. I try to ignore it when it happens in the privacy of our own home, and to help you hide it in public, but ..." "It's a lot of strain," says Nicholas. She nods. He says, "Well, I'll go wash the sheets anyway. That way if Cassie wants to stay in there with Noah." "Nicholas!" she yells. "I am NOT going to let Cassie stay there with you in the house and risk--ohhh, I can't even say it!" She shudders at the thought, grabs the laundry, and huffs up the stairs as Nicholas says, "But it was an accident--it could happen to anyone." "That's what I'm afraid of," Sharon says as she disappears out of sight.

Grace's office is now populated with file cabinets, tables covered with stack trays, papers, packages ready for mailing and several fax machines busily faxing. She sits at her desk when Nicholas enters. "Grace, we have to talk," he says. Grace's phone rings and she raises a finger in a "just a sec" gesture to Nick as she takes the call. "Grace Turner," she says with a professional tone. As she speaks she stands and moves to one of the FAX machines as if to check something. "It should be coming through now," she says. "Oh, it's a pleasure--glad to be of help, Mr. Barrington." As she hangs up, Nick says, "Mr. Barrington? From Barrington Marketing and Advertising in Seattle?" She nods. "What a nice man--he just wanted a few reports faxed over." Nicholas looks disturbed. "He asks and you just sent them over? Just like that?" "Nooo--Nicholas. You think I'm so dumb, don't you? He's paying for it--and not just for the paper either. I'm charging an extra DOLLAR a page. I figure, someone must have typed these things, and I want to make SURE that was money well spent. And it's not just him--once he told his friends how helpful I'd been, they're all calling. And they're so appreciative. I can't believe how many people want copies of these dumb old reports. Sometimes it's even a report on themselves; like if I wanted a report on myself I would ask someone else--geez. How dumb can you get. But... if they want to pay, I'm ready to collect." Nicholas looks around speechless. Finally he says, "You're just doing all this to show me up in front of my Dad, aren't you? I can't believe you thought this up. Dad really wanted to make Mr. Barrington pay for something he did earlier this year, and here you've got it all arranged..."

"Is that what you came over here to talk about, Nicholas? How much better I'm doing at Newman Enterprises than you ever did?" "No, Grace, it's not that. It's Sharon. She knows." "About....?" "About how stupid I am, ok? Cassie apparently told her." "Cassie? Wow she's a lot more observant than I thought--I better cut back on the brain food for her; from now on, no more pizza. Just chocolate donuts." "It doesn't matter. Sharon already knows. And she's gone." "Gone?" "Yeah, gone. She said she couldn't take it any more." "What? What couldn't she take?" "Me. My brain. My stupidity--how should I know? If I knew, she probably wouldn't have left me." "Good point," Grace agrees. "Well, I guess that leaves the coast clear for you and me, doesn't it?" Grace asks optimistically. Nick suddenly laughs. "Thanks, Grace. You really know how to put things into perspective, don't you?" "Huh?" Grace asks. "Well, here I am thinking I'm the dumbest person in the whole world for what I did to Sharon, and then you come along and remind me that I'm not ... by suggesting there's any hope for me and you. Grace, if you can believe that, then you're not nearly as smart as this office makes you look!"

Diane is in bed, tossing and turning and moaning. Jack shakes her, "Diane...?" She looks up sleepily. "Jack?" she says, confused. He nods. "Of course it's me, sugar. You were expecting maybe Victor Newman?" Diane looks embarrassed. "Well, sort of." Jack looks surprised. "Really? Do tell..." "Well, I was having the strangest dream--it was very confusing and I just felt completely out of control. Nothing made sense but I couldn't figure out why." "What happened in it?" "Well, to put it bluntly, Victor tried to buy me." "To buy you? You mean like you were a slave?" "No, that was the awful part. He kept saying I was doing things of my own free will. And there I was, seeming to back up his story. Following him around like a little puppy dog while he took me on trips and bought me gifts and finally proposed to me."

Jack looks at Diane in surprise about the proposal. "El mustachio proposed to you? You said no, I hope," Jack chuckles. "No, Jack, I didn't. I said 'yes'!" "Doesn't sound like a dream to me--sounds more like a nightmare. No wonder you were moaning and groaning before I woke you." "Oh, Jack, you woke me up just in time, it was all so weird. The timeline didn't make any sense. First he flew me to Nevada where some guy who looked like Jed Clampett--you remember, from the Beverly Hillbillies--married us. Then suddenly we were in Greece--well, it didn't look like Greece, but everyone kept saying it was. You know how dreams can be."

Diane goes on with her story. "Anyway, they put me in a chair where I felt like my wrists were held by chains. I had to watch him ogle bellydancers, and then when he was all `ready' he came to me and said `Mrs. Newman--'" "He didn't even call you Diane?" "No, he never called me Diane--only Diane Jenkins or Miss Jenkins or, eventually Mrs. Newman." "I guess it's easier for him that way," Jack says. "Keeps him from getting confused." "Confused?" "The Black Night has been through more wives than hostile takeovers... no, scratch that, he's been through more wives than OTHER hostile takeovers. It's a routine practice for him. He probably calls all his wives Mrs. Newman so he doesn't slip and accidentally call you Hope or Nikki or Ashley or Leanna or Ju--" "It's all right, Jack. I get the idea. Anyway, he was about to make me consumate it and I was trying desperately to get away and ...." Jack holds her and strokes her hair. "There, there... it was just a bad, bad dream. You're back with old smilin' Jack now." "Oh, Jack, ... Jack... I'm so glad. It was like being stuck on a really, really bad soap opera and being forced to read a bunch of lines you know your character would never say." Jack consoles her, "Well, cheer up, sugar. It doesn't sound like a recipe for Daytime Emmy to me--good thing it was just a dream."

The phone rings. Diane and Jack look at each other and then at the clock. "2am? Who could that be?" She grabs it and answers. "Diane Abbot," she says. "This is Victor Newman--I'd like to look at the plans for my new building?" "Victor--there are no new plans. The old ones worked fine, and I'm really tired of changing them. If you think you can find some other architect that will put up with you constantly changing the plans every time they have a dinner date, and with you calling them at home at this hour for no good reason--well, you go ahead hire them. Otherwise, I'll see you at my place of business later where we will do business and business only. No funny business--not unless you want to be slapped hard with a sexual harassment suit, that is--just architecture. Good bye, Victor." She hangs up.

It's still very late at night and Grace is walking the grounds of the ranch by herself. She peers in the window and is happy to see Nick awake and alone. She knocks lightly on the door. Nick gets up and answers it. "Hi!" Grace says as if nothing had happened earlier. "Is Sharon here?" Nick glares at her. "You know she's not." "Oh," Grace says, faking surprise not very well. "I thought she might have come back. Can I come in?" "No, you CANNOT come in!" Nick says. "Grace, I don't know what planet you're from, but I think it's time for you to have them beam you back up. You don't fit in around here. Just get the hell out, ok?" He slams the door in her face. Grace sighs and sits on the porch chair for a moment. Then suddenly, we feel as if a lightbulb has come on in her head and she gets up and tiptoes over to the Tack Estate. When no one answers the door, she pushes it open and goes in muttering "Doesn't anyone lock their doors around here? Well, with Victoria away on that business trip, he probably doesn't want to miss out on any other options."

A few minutes later, Cole gets out of Ashley's car at the Newman Ranch. "Are you sure you won't come in?" Cole asks. "My wife's out of town for another week and..." Ashley wrinkles up her nose and says, "I'd better not. Safer that way." "Yeah," Cole says, slightly disappointed. "Guess you're right..." And he walks down the trail to the Tack Estate. Inside, he doesn't even turn on the lights--the moonlight through the windows is enough for him to see as he strips down and prepares to retire. As he starts to enter his bed, he freezes, realizing there's a form under his covers. He shakes his head and reaches into his bedside for protection... pushing aside a box of condoms, he finds the pistol he put there months ago. Then, remembering it was Victoria who last handled the gun and whose fingerprints are probably still on it, he goes back to the box of condoms and opens a couple of packets, constructing a crude glove so that he can handle the gun without disturbing the prints. The body under the covers remains motionless, pretending to be asleep. The gun discharges. The body under the covers continues motionless, this time because she is dead. Cole mutters, "If there's one thing I hate in a story, it's a damned cliche'."

That's all for this episode. Hope you learned something. Don't miss Episode 60!
If you missed any older episodes, see the index.

Feedback, good or bad, is always appreciated.