******125:

The lobby of the hotel in Paris was just as she'd remembered it, except that the child with her was a lot older, and the babies inside were now outside trying to run off away from her as fast as they could. Good thing they were attached to her wrist by the safety cords Shanna had bought her before she left. Danny acted just like a little man though, perhaps remembering? Sometimes he was like this, she reflected as she approached the front desk-- melancholy.

The clerk spoke in heavily accented English, looking impressed at her celebrity, but not her choice of attire and companions. He was shorter than her, meaning he wasn't tall at all, dark hair and eyes, a small moustache, but otherwise perfectly tailored and clean shaven. There were paparazzi all around, in fact close by, and flashes went off periodically. She wondered if Richard would see these pictures somewhere. Would he think she was irresponsible not traveling with a nanny, or with assistants, or companions, or body guards? Actually, she adjusted the tight cord on her wrist and rubbed where the marks were forming. "Mia, hang on, hon. Stop pulling." The baby in question stomped her foot and threw herself down for a tantrum. Her loud piercing screams and wails made her sister stop pulling also and begin to cry. Neither of them seemed impressed with the sudden onslaught of flashing camera's and the drone and whine of background ambient noise directed at them. Calls, calls, indistinguishable from any others. Tracy tuned them all out, signed her credit card receipt and asked for help getting to her suite. A rather undignified condescending grimace accompanied the unwilling attitude the clerk displayed as he rang for assistance. The cabby had brought their luggage and set it behind them. Someone else had arrived. She turned in time to see a very famous actor, suave, good looking, what was his name?

She tuned back in to the buzz and heard it.... George.... George Lanning. For just a second she stared, remembering many films she'd seen in younger days when watching films was possible. She yanked on the two cords, in annoyance, and finally set down her carry on and picked Melia up. She didn't immediately stop screaming, but Megan immediately grabbed her leg and started yanking on her skirt. She wanted up as well. Tracy turned to look back down and reached to haul Megan up, she actually did carry them both on occasion, and now was a good time, while everyone was staring at the new arrival, and his waving, happy entourage. She wasn't strong enough in this position, and she felt the other carry on slip down her arm. The stupid clerk wasn't a bit of help, and the bell boy who came to help her with the luggage just stood there waiting for her to tell him where to go. At the moment, telling him where to go was about to become a priority.

Exasperated, she set both twins down, which was fortunate for Megan's arm which had been pulled nearly out of its socket, and she slid the two carry-ons to her feet, asked Danny to see if he could carry another one, and he tried, but he was already carrying a diaper bag and watching the people with way too much little boy interest.

"Mom, do other kids come to film festivals?" he asked as she bent down to heft both girls at the same time. She waved to the bell boy and nodded at the two isolated bags now adorning the floor at their feet. He didn't budge, looking for all the world like he didn't understand a word she said.

"Not often, babe." She managed, her voice forced out of her as Megan kicked her stomach. She turned to ask for more assistance, knowing she wasn't getting anywhere this way and feeling flustered and embarrassed, when suddenly the weight of squirming child was taken from her and a strong masculine voice began getting results from the languid bell boy. She turned and looked up into very blue eyes amid a very charismatic face.

"May I help you?" said George Lanning with his very neat Scottish accent. His thick white hair, silvery dark gray at the temples flowed back like a warrior chieftain. He was fairly tall, according to Tracy's standards, and his white eye brows and moustache covered parts of a ruddy complexion that made him seem at once hardy and young, robust even, and at the same time, extremely sexy.

"Sure." She said, realizing he already had helped her, as Megan was now in his arms and her first carry on had been hefted to his capable shoulder.

"My name is George Lanning." He said unnecessarily.

"Thanks." She nodded succinctly, and turned to grab Danny's hand as the bell boy grabbed her other carry on with alacrity. Another assistant, obviously called by the enigmatic Mr. Lanning in a foreign language, began to direct them easily toward the elevator. As she followed this assistant, she tossed her hair out of Melia's hands and gave George Lanning a winning smile. "I'm Tracy McCaffrey."

"I had supposed that you were." He said, and Tracy stepped into the elevator and turned to look at him carefully, wondering why in the world he would want to be identified with her in this helpful but less than popular manner? She let Melia down now that they were once again contained. "But whose are these?"

"My children." She said and her voice was that husky, mommy voice that sounded out of breath and high pitched at the same time.

The heavy white eyebrows rose in query. "Young man?" he held out a hand to Danny.

"Tell him your name." Tracy said in her slightly less annoyed mommy voice, trying to be polite, and sound grateful for the help, all the while personally berating herself once again for thinking she could do it all alone.

"My name is Daniel James Crandall, and my brother is Steven James Crandall, and my sister is Melia Diane Maverick and my other sister is Megan Deanne Maverick." Danny said in his most grown up impressive manner, and Tracy mentally shook her head. He had hardly spoken all day on the plane ride or anywhere else and now he was detailing the entire family for a perfect stranger. "My brother isn't here because he died in a fire when our house burned down, but he's here watching us, but he can't help carry things because he doesn't have a body. I go to Primary."

"Pi-mary." Melia echoed with a nod from next to Danny, as the elevator door closed and George gave Tracy a surprised look, meant to convey his approval of the little speech, but Danny wasn't quite done.

"My daddy Raine died in the fire too trying to save us from the smoke and burning.... Wood. He threw me out the window and I landed on Momma and tried to run away, but she caught me." He was making that up, Tracy rolled her eyes, little kid memories were sometimes clouded with half TV memories, she thought. "Daddy Raine isn't really my Daddy either. He's Momma's husband."

"Hub-band." Melia nodded agreement, her big blue eyes solemnly attentive.

"So, where's your Daddy, if I may ask." George gave Tracy another look, and she tried to wink casually, not wanting him to think her child was so verbose all the time.

Danny thought about that one for a second, but his quick perception had caught Tracy's rolled eyes. "No, you may not." He said and folded his arms over his little chest and turned away, but not before he looked to his mother for approval, obviously just realizing that he was talking to a stranger. Melia looked from one to another so quickly her eyes seemed to cross, and then she folded her arms, but instead of turning away like Danny had, she bowed her head to pray. Well, that's what you did when you folded your arms. And then, before Tracy could stop her, or explain, she closed her eyes and started to pray.

"Bess momma, an a Meg an a Danny an a Gampa an a Gamma, an Ke-wee, an a Seevie, an a Kiss, an a--- in a zeezoos kist. Amen!" she said, clearly and not ashamed in any way. Danny and Megan responded with loud Amen's as well, so Tracy puckered her eyebrows and said a quiet Amen to support her daughter, smiling tolerantly she hoped, at George who also said Amen as the door opened on Tracy's suite.

"I really appreciate you helping us, I think I can take it from here." She said, trying to salvage what was left of her sense of dignity.

The assistant had opened their door for them, and they realized right away that they would be unable to enter because someone had dropped the two cribs she'd asked for right in the doorway. George took in the situation and with authority and in a different language started yelling at the assistant, who jumped and scurried to do his bidding. He stood there, obviously very annoyed, and flipped open the elevator door and got back in.

"This is totally unacceptable. You come to my suite until they get yours ready." He shut the door and then turned to Danny. "I used to go to Primary, young master Daniel. When we get to my room, you shall tell me all about it, and I will be able to remember, all right?"

Danny now looked to Tracy who smiled in relief. "I go to Primary every Sunday, only sometimes not at home. We have a Primary at Home, but we were visiting my Grandpa and Grandma in Wales. They have a farm there."

They exited the elevator on a different floor and George automatically let them into his suite, holding the door for them expertly, while they trooped inside. "This is really very kind of you, Mr. Lanning." Tracy said apologetically, not understanding why the hotel she'd stayed at two years ago for this very film festival, was being so rude to her this time. It seemed an obvious slight, not an accident at this point. She let go of the little hand holding hers and dropped her bag also in relief. "I can't imagine why they weren't ready for us."

George had set Megan down and she took off across the room where a curtained balcony led out to a covered hot tub area. George glanced at Tracy. "Can't imagine? You didn't see the signs?"

"What signs?" she gave him a startled and bewildered look.

"Oh, there were signs outside, a regular protest about you being here."

Tracy's eyes were wide on him as she followed Megan to the window overlooking the Seine and looked down. All was peaceful, the gray waters flowed unhindered, grass on either side right here, docks, boats, people walking on the pathways.

"Why me?" she said softly, and George walked up behind her.

"I can tell you what the signs said. 'Tracy burn in hell for what you did to Casey'."

Her heart sank. She'd come here to get through these bad memories, and now the bad memories were haunting her. For just a moment her head wanted to sink as much as her heart. Her hands lagged at her sides, and she felt the defeating power of depression suck into her veins like an oozing sore.

"I wonder if they have our room ready." She said, not looking away from the window.

"Do you want to talk about it?" George asked politely. Tracy turned, she shook her head. But he went on, "I don't need to be a stranger. You can talk to me, perhaps I have been here before you."

The faces of her father and Shanna flashed in front of her, Michael, Rachel, Jake and Greg. Each in turn. Austin, her mother, Lorraine, Sam, her brother, Bridget and Jules. She had people to talk to. She had people who cared about her. She did not have to be alone. Why, oh why, had she put herself in this position without taking precautions?

George had gone to sit on the decorative white sofa. "Do you have a concert here?"

She turned and leaned against the window ledge, staring at this man frankly. What did he want from her? He'd helped them up the elevator, that was for sure, he'd demanded service for her also. Was she so inept?

She sighed. "No. I don't have a concert here. This is actually a detour from a pretty rigorous schedule. But I came here to exorcise a few demons, and it looks like they beat me to it."

George laughed. "They knew you were coming." He eyed her speculatively, and Tracy had to turn away from his frank stare. "They always know."

Tracy had to agree, and in her agreement was a self-deprecating laugh as well. It was an acknowledgement of her infallibility, her predilection for getting into the lime light whether she wanted it or not. "I'm only here for one night and one day. I figured I'd catch the screening of Austin's new film, he's not able to be here right now, so I thought I'd lend some support. I need to be able to walk through that crowd and not...."

"I read about what happened to you two years ago. It was a dastardly thing to do, and completely unwarranted. Obviously it wasn't planned as well. They saw you, and their hate came out. It wasn't premeditated."

She nodded. "I know. Not like my home, the deaths of my husband and child. That was premeditated, planted in our home. How do they do it? Who are they?"

"Well, they are downstairs, why don't you go ask them?"

Tracy glanced at the children who were still toddling around. Danny had found a TV set and a fancy game controller below it, and was using his innate curiosity to hook it up properly and play it. He was definitely technically savvy, she thought. "Are you serious?"

He cocked his head to one side. "You wanted to exorcise your demons."

"So, just go down there and ask one of them? I could get swarmed. A big media confrontation?"

He shrugged. "That's one way. Or I could go get a few and bring them here."

"Not in front of my children."

"That's true, you definitely need a babysitter. I shall call my assistant. I can trust her, and that means you can as well." He flipped open his phone and asked for Marjory to attend him, then he dialed again, and Tracy heard him ask Alexander to bring two of the protester's to Marjory's suite. In seconds the Marjory in question, a nice looking, capable assistant was there and apprised of the need for her assistance.

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