Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Happiness

By Kadi

Rated T

A/N: Sequel to "More than Luck". I want to thank everyone who commented on that story. You were all very kind, and your words meant a lot to me.

In this one, I decided to explore more of the family element, and I hope that I maintained what you liked about the first story. For those of you who followed Mary McDonnell to Major Crimes from BSG - yes, it's that Bill. That relationship may have changed slightly here, but he's still family.

As to Sharon's age, I understand that Mary McDonnell is sixty-one, but I have such a hard time reconciling that when she doesn't look like she's that age. I can only hope to look half that good when I'm her age! For that reason, I've placed the character in her fifties.

Enjoy!

Summerland was just a little coastal village near Santa Barbara, a little tourist spot that saw visitors year round. The village was busiest during the spring and summer months as vacationers poured into the state, but maintained regular traffic during the off-season months, when state residents visited the quaint little spot. Retired Appellate Court Judge Patrick Cavanagh and his wife Miranda kept a cottage on the beach. They had bought the house and the little strip of beachside property many years before, when the oil companies had pulled out and the land was selling cheap. Environmental agencies had swept in, giving residents and potential buyers grants and assistance in cleaning up the beach and properties and shaping what was once a working community that served Santa Barbara into the popular tourist spot that it was now.

Positioned as it was along the 101, Pacific Coast Highway, travelers often chose the village as a place to stop while outside the larger city of Santa Barbara as they moved on their way from Los Angeles to San Francisco, or farther north. The Cavanaghs wanted a quiet place to vacation with their family, some place warmer than the snow laden mountains of Utah, where they spent the winter holidays, and the bustle of every day life in Los Angeles. At the time, their children were very small, and the strip of beach and coastal sand dunes gave their two sons and daughters plenty of room to run wild. At that time, during the sixties and seventies, their children had been able to intermingle with the townies and tourists, other children their own age, never lacking for fun and activity - be it inside the village or along the beach.

As the kids grew older, it became a retreat, Judge Cavanagh and his wife could drive north for a weekend and open the beach house for themselves. As their kids left home for school, they used it, along with their friends, for long weekends and school vacations at a time in their lives when coming home was considered boring and uncool. Then they began to marry, first the eldest son, David, a lawyer with a bright career ahead of him, and later Helen, who had studied and strived to become a surgeon, at a time when there were so few women holding those positions. Alan had gone into the military, made a career for himself as a pilot, and married his wife while in his thirties. It was Alan who had brought Bill into their lives, the serious natured, and handsome Army pilot that they thought, for a time, was meant for their youngest daughter and middle child, Sharon. It was not Bill that she had married, however, but his younger brother. The too charming, smooth talking Jackson.

The Judge didn't like to think too much on that, or how the change had come about. There was some history there, and Bill was still a family friend. He had questioned his youngest son on it only once, and Alan had only shrugged and stated that Bill wouldn't date his friend's sister, however much he wanted to. He married later, raised children of his own, but the Judge always remained of the opinion that he would have been a better match for his girl, he was certainly the better man of the two. How that lying moron, Jackson, had ever managed to slip beneath his daughter's radar he would never understand. Unfortunately, it was one of the hardest truths of parenting, you couldn't remove the regret and pain of your children's' mistakes. You could only watch and help where they'd let you, where you could.

Lord only knew how often he and his wife had tried to talk her out of it. Right up until the day she married the lazy ne'er do well. His daughter was stubborn, she wouldn't listen to reason, and that was a trait that he knew only too well she had inherited from him. It came with a healthy dose of pride, another trait that was all his. He could only thank the heavens above that there was enough of her mother's understanding and compassion in her to temperance it all out. It was too late to change any of it by the time they realized just how much of a moron the man truly was. By the time Richard was born, he could see that she had seen it. Judge Cavanagh could only be proud of the woman she had become, she hadn't run home to them, although he would have gladly taken her. She tried, even when he and her mother began to hear the rumors from the other kids, and the regretful, disappointed look in the man's own brother's eyes that Jackson was drinking too much, spending too little time at home, and pushing them further into debt with his trips to the horse races.

The Judge was ready to pay the man to stay away when their little Katherine was born and Jackson was too drunk to remember his wife was pregnant, much less near enough to being in labor that he should have been closer to home rather than laid out in a bar or race track somewhere. Helen had been with her sister, along with Alan's wife Susan, and both girls had been sworn to secrecy about the matter until Sharon was home from the hospital with Katherine, but it had come out as those things were like to do. Jackson left on his own a few years later, although the Judge had a feeling Sharon's brothers and Bill had something to do with that. They weren't speaking, neither was their sister or their wives, and if Sharon suspected she wasn't saying anything either.

It was a year before the papers were drawn up. A long year, filled with too much heartache. During the time following Jackson's leaving, Sharon had realized that the house was mortgaged up to her eyeballs, he had cleaned out their savings, the checking accounts, and the little college funds that they had started for the children. It was only fortunate that he hadn't been able to touch the trusts that Patrick and his wife had started for their grandchildren. Jack had left her with nothing but debt and two children to raise. Try though he had, the Judge had attempted to purchase the house, settle the debts, and put them back on their feet again but Sharon had refused. Instead, he and the rest of the family had watched while she worked their way out of that hole, although he and his wife suspected that Bill had helped. The man was too stubborn to take her no for an answer. The Judge had a feeling her brothers and helped as well, at least in the early years.

As time wore on, she had saved, invested, and David had worked with that lawyer friend of hers, Gavin Baker, to draw up the papers which legally separated her from the husband she would not yet divorce. No one in their family had ever divorced before, and despite the rest of the family being more than okay with the idea, Sharon had not been ready to take that step just yet.

They watched Jackson come and go from the family over the years; watched while those visits became fewer and farther between. If he was conspicuously absent from family gatherings and vacations, it wasn't mentioned. It was more than telling that even his own children stopped mentioning him as they grew older. Aunt Sharon's absent husband became the thing that the other kids quickly learned not to ask about.

The Judge hoped that young Ricky would follow his cousins and Uncle David into law, but instead he had followed his mother into police work. It was honest work. He never had any reason to not be proud of the careers his children had chosen, or his grandchildren. There were doctors among them, lawyers, one of his granddaughters was a teacher, while another had gone into advertising, and of course there was the dancer. Among them too, there had been others to join the force.

It was a long, well lived life, and Judge Patrick Cavanagh, nor his wife Miranda, could complain at the result. From four children they had been given eleven grandchildren, and already there were three great grandchildren. It made for a large extended family, and chaotic family gatherings, when all of them could be present. It had been a long time since that was the case, more often, the children and grandchildren spent time with their other families, or were pulled away by work and responsibility.

He and Miranda weren't going to be around forever, though, and the days of having the family together was drawing closer and closer to an end. It was the reason he had drawn them all to Summerland as soon as he could arrange it. The summons had been sent out for a gathering that Memorial Day weekend, and the family knew when it came from Grandpa, or when it came from His Honor. A summons to court by His Honor did not go unheeded. If his days drew to an end, Patrick wanted to be able to go knowing he'd had his family under one roof at least once more. Although he was still healthy as a horse, Miranda too. They were in their eighties now, nearing ninety, and couldn't find a complaint as to health - beyond the normal, slower bodies and aching joints.

The nature of the growing family was the reason that, over the years, the old beach house had been added on to. The original three bedrooms had doubled after the kids started marrying off and having children of their own. Later, David had built a second house, further down the beach on the property owned by the family. Between twelve bedrooms, and two large family rooms big enough for camp beds, they managed; while the family was comfortable financially they were not overly wealthy. Both houses were large, but they were not fortresses by any means. It was Summerland, California, not Hyannis Port, Massachusetts.

The Judge knew that he was being more introspective lately. He supposed that was to be expected. It had already proven to be an interesting year. Ricky and Katie had bypassed the time share in Park City to spend Christmas with their mother, and that boy she had taken in that he and the others had yet to meet. They were a little bit skeptical about him, given what had been in the news. Patrick and done some digging, however. He still had friends in his old appellate district - which Los Angeles had been the seat of.

Before he made any decisions he wanted to lay eyes on the kid. Ricky and Katie spoke well of him, turned out he'd had a rough go of it, and Sharon had taken him in and gotten attached. From what he heard, both from his grandkids and those in position to watch the situation more objectively, it was a mutual arrangement. The events surrounding the trial and other rumors he heard were worrisome, but Patrick had to figure that her personal life might be one thing, but his daughter could handle her professional life just fine.

Then something very interesting had happened. Sharon had gotten divorced. The Judge wondered how much of that had to do with this boy she had up and adopted, and how much of it had to do with this man his grandkids mentioned she was dating. In thirty years of marriage, twenty of it separated, he had never known his daughter to date. Not that he had heard, and he knew that Sharon could be discreet as hell, but he relied on his other children to tell him things. The girls talked, even when they didn't want their old parents to know what was going on in their lives, Helen and Sharon spoke to each other, or to their sisters-in-law. Then inevitably Lynette, Susan, or Lillian (Bill's wife) spoke to their husbands, and he and Miranda heard it from the boys. Or the grandkids. They could always count on the grandkids to spill the beans, they were far more susceptible to guilt than their children. Too many years of practice had hardened the second generation, the third, however… it was still prime for the taking.

Now Patrick was hearing something else. All that upheaval and turmoil in Los Angeles had almost sent him back to the city, save Sharon demanding quite firmly that he and Miranda stay in Summerland, where they now lived full time. Despite the news reports, and how close she had come to dying, Sharon was emphatic that she was okay. She was safe, well taken care of, and mending. It was one of those cold, dark facts about her police work that the family had always been afraid of. It wasn't the first time she had been injured, but they didn't recall her coming quite so close to death before.

Ricky and Katie had gone, they hadn't heeded those warnings, and both of them had dropped everything and gone to Los Angeles the moment they had heard. They only stayed a few days, their mother chased them back to their lives with promises to let them know if they were needed. She didn't want their hovering, and she didn't want them worrying about her… and apparently she was staying with the new guy.

He had conversations with Miranda about that. They wanted to know who this man was. Patrick wanted to do some digging, Miranda wouldn't let him. Ricky and Katie liked him, apparently he was nice, funny, and treated their mother like a queen… when he wasn't calling her on her crap. From what little they had managed to learn, mainly from picking at the boy - the new brother they were both fond of - he was a fellow cop, worked for their mother, and was a divorced recovering alcoholic with two grown children of his own.

That was quite a bit of information to get out of the grandkids, and Patrick was wondering if maybe this new addition to the family, this Rusty, wouldn't be a good source for keeping tabs on the goings on in Los Angeles. If that were the case, Patrick had high hopes for that boy. First he needed to lay eyes on him… and he needed to lay eyes on this new guy. The one his daughter was living with but not married to. Of course, at her age, it wasn't as though he had a lot of say in her life decisions, but Patrick Cavanagh wasn't out to pasture just yet, and he was far from his grave. He was still the residing patriarch of this family, and whether they listened or not… he had things to say.

He just usually said them when his Miranda wasn't around to overhear it and box his ears.

Thoughts of his wife had his attention shifting toward the kitchen. Tea was brewing, and there was something sweet baking in the oven. It would be for dessert later, but maybe if he was just good enough she'd sneak him a little taste. They had to make sure it was good enough for the kids.

Patrick Cavanagh leaned back on the porch swing he was occupying and let his gaze sweep the beach. There was a nice breeze out today. The sun was shining. The early days of summer had been mild, but the heat would come. The breezes in off the pacific would keep them from feeling it too harshly, they usually did. He stretched his long legs out, grimacing that the old bones creaked and ached a bit more than they used to. In the distance, he could hear kids playing. David's grandkids were playing. His eldest daughter, Christine, had two girls that were not quite school age. Helen's son, Michael, would be joining them later that evening, with his young son, toddling at Christmas but probably more than game to keeping up with the older kids by now.

Yes, it was a large family. Growing daily. The sound of a car had drawn his attention and Patrick cast his gaze toward the winding drive that came to an end in a circular parking lane between the two beach houses, which had stone paths leading to each. He leaned forward and squinted against the gleam of the sun on the car's exterior. A familiar silver sedan made him smile. Patrick leaned back in his seat and folded his hands against his stomach again. It came to stop, and he was not surprised to see the light colored Volvo stop beside it. Katie had told her grandmother she was flying into LAX and driving up with her mother. That boy, Rusty, was nervous.

Patrick tilted his head and craned his ears. From the cars he would be slightly obscured. The porch swing wasn't readily visible until halfway up the stone path. Observance, that was the first weapon in his arsenal of family coherence - or meddling as his wife called it.

Katie had driven. She knew the way, and Rusty was just too anxious about meeting the rest of Sharon's family to even think about handling the highway and traffic. When they had left the 101 and driven toward the beach, through the little village, the knot in his stomach had only gotten tighter. Now that they were there, he looked around and rubbed his hands against his jeans. "I thought it was just a little cottage?" He stared wide eyed at the large house that seemed to be sprawled out before them.

"It used to be," Katie pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and smiled at him. "When my mom was a kid, it was just this little place. Gram and Granddad added onto it later, and it just got bigger. That one over there is Uncle David's," she pointed to the nearby house. It was far enough away to give the appearance of privacy and independence between the two, but well within walking distance. "He added it when we realized that for summer vacation, there was just too many of us kids to all be here together. Granddad likes us here together." She stretched, as much as she could in the car and pushed her door open to get out. "Come on, don't freak out until you meet them."

"But there's so many of them." Rusty heaved a sigh and unfolded himself from the small sedan. He took a moment to stretch after the two hour drive and walked to the rear to get his and Katie's bags.

"Katherine Marie!" Sharon pushed out of the passenger seat and slipped her shades up into her hair. "Did you ignore the speed limit, or just decide it did not apply to you?"

"Told you." Rusty smirked and pulled out her matching Gucci bags, setting them beside his plain blue luggage.

"Oh, is that what those numbers meant?" She flashed a cheeky grin and fluttered her lashes. "Mom, it's the 101! That's more of a… suggestion."

Green eyes flashed irritation and Andy decided the better part of valor was turning Sharon toward her own car. "Slow it down," he admonished, in a more casual, but firm tone. "I'll ticket you myself."

"Okay, okay," Katie held her hands up. "Sorry. No more speeding, promise." She helped Rusty with their bags, and grinned when Andy effectively stood her mother out of his way while he emptied the other trunk.

"Seriously? Do you always pack this much?" Rusty had his one bag, his knapsack, and two of Katie's. That still left her overnight bag, and another large suitcase. Not to mention her purse.

"What?" Katie blinked at him. "This? I didn't really bring anything. I'll probably end up running into Santa Barbara to pick up whatever I forgot."

"Oh my god." Rusty moaned. "Who are you?"

"Prima ballerina baby." She winked at him, dropped her glasses back onto her face and lifted the two bags. Chin lifted, she turned and started striding toward the house.

"She's really adopted, right?" Rusty cast a look at Sharon and Andy, but spotted the Lieutenant in the same predicament he was in. "Never mind."

"Yeah." Andy snorted. "This one is just shoes."

"That had best not be a complaint," Sharon had a bag drawn over her shoulder and was leading the way toward the house. She tossed a smile back over her shoulder. "I brought the black heels."

"It's not too late," Rusty said as he and Andy followed. "We can still go fishing with Lieutenant Provenza."

"The thought had occurred," Andy muttered. He wasn't sure about meeting Sharon's family, all at once. Her kids were great. They had no issues about her kids, or his daughter, not getting along. Katie and Nicole had hit it off, and with the trial now over, and nothing to do except school work and be normal, Rusty had babysat for Nicole and her husband Jake a couple of times. Sharon was, in so many ways he could never explain or ever thank her for, the best thing that had ever happened to him. But damn the woman couldn't travel lightly if her life depended on it, and neither could her daughter. She was also confident that he and Rusty would be alright with this huge extended family of hers, and if she and her kids were anything to go on, he was sure that was probably true - but he and Rusty both had pasts, they came with baggage, and that made it all incredibly nerve wracking. Andy drew a deep breath when they got closer to the house. "Stick with me kid," he said quietly. "If it goes south, I'll hot wire the car and we're out of here."

"You're on." Rusty dropped back even more when they got close enough to realize there was someone sitting on the porch. Someone very much older than the adults he was used to, who was standing up, and as Rusty's steps trudged along, and he squinted against the bright sun, he watched Sharon drop her purse and overnight bag on the porch and rush forward into a hug. When they reached the porch, he had no choice but to move up the creaking wooden steps behind the others, but was better able to observe the older man who was hugging Sharon like she might disappear if he ever let go.

He looked like he might have once been a very large man, and he wasn't frail by any means, but it had been some time since he had seen eighty. He had full head of white hair, cut short and neatly trimmed, and a pressed polo shirt tucked into a pair of pressed khakis. He was tall, and it became apparent where Ricky had gotten his height.

Patrick Cavanagh gathered his girl close and held on tightly. It had been too long, and the last months had been harder than most. "You're too thin," he declared. "Your mother worries."

Sharon rolled her eyes at him, and laughed quietly. That was code for she had given him a scare, and she was duly chastised for it. "You're one to talk. Isn't mom feeding you?"

"I'm running this interrogation, missy." Patrick drew back and cupped her face in his hands. He tipped her chin up and narrowed his eyes at her. Thinner, but looking more relaxed than he could recall. Older, but hell, they were all getting older. "It's been too long, young lady."

"Yes sir." Sharon felt guilty for that, but it couldn't be helped. "Mom frets." Her green eyes were dancing.

"Cheeky." Patrick shook his head at her. "You and I will have that chat later, don't you worry none about it." There were others present, others that weren't known to him, and his little Katie was trying very hard not to laugh. "Who have you brought me?" He watched the laughter fade from her eyes, but the sparkle didn't go anywhere. If anything, her eyes lit up when she looked at the boy and the man waiting patiently nearby.

"Rusty." Sharon held out a hand and beckoned him closer. "Katie, for crying out loud," she heaved an exasperated sigh when she realized he was still carrying her daughter's bags. "He is not your valet."

"Isn't that the definition of brother?" But she winked at the boy when she took the bags from him. "Sorry."

"It's okay." He set them on the porch beside her and rubbed the palms of his hands against his pants legs again. Rusty walked over to stand, nervously, beside Sharon.

Patrick studied the boy. He was nervous, fair to shaking in his sneakers. But the boy met his gaze and didn't look away. Patrick tilted his head. "So you're the Rusty I've heard so much about."

"Yes sir." He held out a hand. "Um. Sharon talks about the family a lot."

Firm handshake. It was a good sign. "I understand you're a fairly good chess player?"

"I'm okay," Rusty glanced at Sharon before forcing out a breath and making himself relax. "I'm good. Do you play?"

"I'm okay." Patrick tapped a finger against his chin. "Maybe we'll see how good you are later. This one," he pointed at Sharon, "is completely hopeless."

The eyes, sparkling green, and so familiar in the way they seemed to show warmth and amusement helped Rusty relax just a bit. "She really is," he admitted. He looked at Sharon beside him and shrugged. "You have no patience for it. Which, I've never understood. You can wait out almost any suspect, and you deal with the squad everyday, but you can't sit still long enough to make it through one game of chess."

Behind them Andy chuckled. "She can't control it, kid." He had stacked his and Sharon's bags neatly near the wooden porch rail, and now stood by, watching carefully. When the kid relaxed, he saw some of the tension leave Sharon's shoulders, and that in turn helped him settle down as well. "She needs to be in the action, not watching it."

"I'm fully capable of recognizing that it is not my game," Sharon shrugged. "Dad, on the other hand, may have found his match. I'll be interested to see how that turns out. I'm sure David and Steven, his son, will be as well."

"We've got us a game then." Patrick nodded. "I'm going to look forward to that. It's nice to finally meet you, Rusty. Welcome to the family."

"Thank you, sir." He almost fell over with relief and moved quickly to begin picking up bags again.

It was Katie's turn after that, since she bounded up for a hug instead of waiting. "Grandpa!"

Sharon slipped back to stand with Andy while her daughter greeted her grandfather. She leaned against his side and slipped a hand into his. The smile she gave him was full of reassurance. They had discussed how nervous he was on the drive, and she was glad the kids had decided to bring the other car. "Just remember," she whispered against his ear, repeating his own words from months earlier. "After Jackson, they're going to love you."

"From your mouth," he said quietly, but gave her hand a squeeze.

"Well." Katie looked around the porch. "Since this is getting awkward fast, I'm going to take Rusty inside and show him where to put our stuff. I'll introduce him to Gram," she told her mother. "She's been almost desperate to meet you, Rusty. She worries you know…"

"That's what I've heard." He glanced back at Sharon and Andy smiled, but was afraid it came off as more of a grimace.

They waited until the kids were inside the house and the sound of Katie's chatter fading before Patrick turned back to his daughter. "Sharon." He tried to sound stern, but it was hard when they were grown, well past grown when they got down to the truth of it.

"Dad." She returned his look, and rather than be cowed, she stepped away from the rail and drew her lover with her. "This is Andy."

"Your honor," he held out a hand. Finding out Sharon's dad was former Appellate court Judge Patrick Cavanagh had explained a lot. The man was known for being strict, but fair, in his rulings. He ran a tight court room back in his day, and it also explained how she had known so many of the upper brass of Los Angeles. "Andrew Flynn," he stated formally.

"You're a cop." Patrick shook his hand, but regarded him closely. "If rumor serves."

"That's right," Andy nodded. "Major Crimes, I work for Sharon."

"With." She grinned up at him, eyes dancing. "Technically, on paper, you work for Tao and he works for me. Keeps us out of trouble," she added, poking his arm lightly.

"Rules." He shook his head at her, but smiled just the same.

"Hm." She gave him a playful shrug. "I like them." Sharon's head tilted at him. "You knew that."

"I did." He grinned down at her, it was a familiar exchange, more playful than anything now.

Patrick continued to study the pair of them. He slipped his hands into his pockets and pursed his lips slightly. "I suppose I'm trying to play catch up, now, with everything the kids have been telling us. Sharon wouldn't let her mother and I make the trip last February. You worried her," he told his daughter. "Although, we understand, with everything that was going on you didn't want your old parents underfoot. Otherwise we might have met your…" There they had it, how to classify him. They were grown, middle aged people, that made it difficult for parents. "Andy," he decided at last, going with a name for lack of a title, "well before now, and probably before you decided to up and sell your place and move in with him."

Sharon pressed her lips together and clamped down hard on the desire to laugh. She shot a knowing look at Andy. They had discussed this; no matter her age, her father was still her father, and she expected exactly this. Well into her fifties or not, she was not surprised with the direction the conversation had gone. "Dad."

"No," He waved a hand at her. "That's fine. You don't need to justify anything to your mother or I…"

"Patrick." Miranda Cavanagh appeared from inside, forewarned by her granddaughter that he was about to wind their daughter up. She shook her head at him. There was mirth in her blue-eyed gaze, but she gave his arm a light slap when she joined them. "You leave them alone. I would actually like Sharon to come back at some point, and she might actually want to bring the young man with her if she does. It would be nice if you didn't scare him off."

Andy had to smile at being called a young man, although he supposed to the older generation he was precisely that. He also couldn't contain his grin when he realized he was looking into the face of Sharon in about thirty years, save the eyes. The voice was slightly deeper, but the inflection was the same, and reminded him of Sharon when she was admonishing him, or Provenza. "He can try, but I'm afraid that's just not possible, ma'am."

"Oh don't call me that." Miranda chuckled. "You call me ma'am and I start looking for Patrick's mother." Her dry tone left it known there was no love lost there, although her mother-in-law was long deceased. "You can call me Miranda," she said, holding out her hand, "and I want you to absolutely ignore the cantankerous old man and his meddling."

"Andy." He took her hand and clasped it between both of his. "It's a pleasure."

"Now Miranda," Patrick began, his tone shifting toward one intended to mollify his wife. "I was only trying to figure out what has been going on down there, since our daughter hasn't seen fit…"

"Meddling." Miranda pointed a finger at him and shook it. "That's exactly what you were doing, Patrick David Cavanagh, and I'll not have it."

Unable to prevent the grin, Andy turned his face into Sharon's hair while his shoulders shook lightly with silent laughter. "You are your mother's daughter," he murmured.

"Oh this is nothing," Sharon whispered, and leaned against his side. She slipped her arms around his waist and waited for her mother to stop reading her dad the riot act. "Mom," she decided to take pity on him. "It's really okay, I think Dad was working up to the point where he was going to try to figure out how I went from married, to divorced, to living with another man inside a six month period."

"Three." Andy winked down at her. "It was three babe."

"Was it?" Sharon's lips pursed and she thought about it. "Hmm. I suppose if we go on technicalities it was, but I was counting Nicole's wedding. I thought we had agreed on that?"

"We might have," his head tilted. "I may have missed it somewhere between the moving, painting, and remodeling we've been doing." Andy gave her parents a sheepish grin. "My honey do list gets a little bit longer every day."

"It's not that long." Sharon made a face at him. "If you would actually do what's on it, though…"

"I try," He grinned down at her. "Work keeps getting in the way. My boss won't let me have a day off."

"Hm." Sharon's eyes sparkled. "I should talk to that Tao. The power has gone to his head."

"Something like that." His hand stroked down her back. "Back to your point, six months it is. Sounds better anyway."

"I thought so too," Sharon agreed with a nod. "Although we've known each other for at least twenty years."

"Twenty-two," Andy grinned again. "You were having lunch with Gavin. He was still with the city attorney's office, and I was… in trouble."

"That's right," Sharon's eyes widened. She had almost forgotten that. "I was just a rookie in IA then. I wasn't handling any of your cases yet."

"Yes, yes," he nodded slowly. "Before you were corrupted by the dark side."

"Oh stop." Sharon rolled her eyes at him. "In any event, we appreciate your concern, but I think we're going to be okay. This isn't the first trip down this particular road for either of us."

"Right." Andy was still nodding slowly, but stopped. "You had to bring that up?" He arched a brow at her. Reminding her parents they both had failed marriages might not be the road to go down. "That is what you go with? I think you're off script babe."

"Am I?" She folded her arms over her chest, tilted her head, and pretended to think about it. "Went over the years we've known each other." She waited for him to nod. "Thanked them for being concerned."

"Yes." His dark eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Reminded them we're old enough to know better?" Sharon was ticking off the points on her fingers. "What did I miss?"

"Hm." Andy hummed and tapped his chin. "Love, marriage, longevity?"

"Oh right," she nodded slowly, and gave him a sigh that was all feigned resignation. "That could be important."

"Well, we did agree that we wanted to set their minds at ease, and given how the children talk, you wanted to tell your parents first." He clasped his hands in front of him. "They have spies, remember?"

"Yes," Sharon agreed. "The spy network. It is vast and well oiled. Now they've pulled Nicole into it. If I tell Katie and Ricky, she'll know before you can finish dialing, and if I tell Rusty, then Katie and Ricky are going to know and it's just a cycle. Katie will call Christine, and Ricky is going to talk to little David, someone will speak to Charlotte, then Joey would find out… he'd tell his mom, and Lillian is going to question Bill about it, who will talk to Alan. I know my little brother, he'd conference call David and Helen, and one of them would end up asking dad, because mom would want to know why they were meddling to begin with and it really is a vicious, vicious cycle."

"Yes, I can see that." Andy's lips pursed. "When it isn't about you, where do you fall in the line up?"

Her eyes lit up, nearly emerald in their amusement. "Oh, I'm usually the one asking dad. Turn about is fair play, you understand."

"Absolutely, that's my girl." Andy tapped her nose. "That brings us back around to the conversation with your parents, and the discussion we had in the car. The entire reason we endorsed Katie bringing the Volvo and sending Rusty with her."

"Hm." Sharon hummed while she considered all of that. "I do suppose we've derailed a bit."

"A bit?" Patrick rubbed his forehead. "Is this how you handle suspects? If it is, I'm surprised you aren't getting more confessions. Or maybe they're just so confused by the end, they don't quite care what the deal is." When his daughter and the man simply looked at each other and shrugged, Patrick shook his head. "She gets this from you," he told his wife.

"No," Miranda slipped one of her small hands into his. "This she gets from you." Soft laughter was her response to their antics. "That was pure Judge if ever I saw it."

"Hm." The hum that came out of Patrick sounded more like a grunt. "Maybe she should get to the point. We're not getting any younger."

"Maybe you should be more observant." Miranda smiled up at her husband. "Although, at our age, it's more than understandable. We miss the finer details. Poor eyesight, less patience, too busy meddling to read between the lines. Or you might have noticed the fact that our daughter who has not worn much more jewelry than your mother's gold earrings and a watch for the last twenty-five years is wearing a diamond on her hand." Miranda held out her hand for Sharon's and crooked her fingers impatiently.

Although she rolled her eyes at them, Sharon placed her hand on display. "In between giving him chores to complete, Andy might have found time to do a little shopping of his own."

"I might have snuck off between a crime scene and the station," He brought a finger to his lips. "Shh, don't tell my partner. He's worse than my boss."

She nudged his side. "Andy. Behave."

Miranda smiled brightly. "It's lovely." She moved past Sharon to hug the man that was going to be her new son. The kids spoke well of him, and seeing her daughter happy and more at ease than she could ever recall her being with the other one was enough for Miranda. "Welcome to the family, Andy."

Patrick nodded with some amount of satisfaction. Well, they might not know him that well, but this was better than just living together. "Indeed. Sharon, you're in your room. Why don't you show Andy the way. That son of yours is off with your brother, Alan has a few new toys. He took Ricky, Steven and Anna out to the range with him. The others should be getting in later this afternoon, and tonight. Your mother has planned a family dinner. You should get yourselves and Rusty settled in."

"Yes sir." Sharon winked at Andy. They were effectively off the hook now. At least with her parents, they still had her kids and his to break the news to - although that should be easy. Their kids had been more than supportive and were probably expecting news of either an engagement or elopement.

They waited until Andy and Sharon had taken their bags and made their way into the house before Miranda turned and tapped Patrick on the chest. "Oh, honestly. If you could have heard yourself. She is over fifty years old, it is entirely none of our business what she or any of the others do, or with whom."

"Mmhm." Patrick slipped an arm around her shoulders. "But did you see the look on their faces. The scheming was rather amusing. I was particularly fond of the part where they attempted to lose us with misdirection. They get extra points for being well rehearsed."

"Indeed." Miranda considered it. "What did you think? The boy was so nervous I was afraid he was going to be ill. He settled down after a few seconds, but kept looking around like he was waiting for Sharon to save him. Bit of an anxious young thing, although it's understandable given everything we've heard."

"Oh, I think he'll be fine, just fine," Patrick said. "Now the other one…" He chuckled. "I'd call that a major improvement over the last one she brought home. In all the years we had to deal with that one, he never once could look me in the eye. The jury is still out, but this one… this Andy of hers looked me in the eye."

"Yes." Miranda's lips pursed. "She did look happy right? I wasn't just imagining that. Was she too thin? Patrick, she looked too thin."

"Now, now," he gave her back a light pat. "No reason to go fretting over it too much, she always was a bit of a bird with her eating habits. She looked good, and my friends tell me that she recovered just fine. It's been a few months yet, and she seems just fine to me."

"You're right. I won't worry," She nodded slowly. "Let's go in and have some tea. Helen and her brood will be here in another hour or so."

"They must have gotten caught in traffic around Sacramento," Patrick said, but he was already trying to remember everything that his other daughter had not been telling her parents. He'd get Sharon aside later and go over the details, no doubt Alan had told her. He could always count on his girl to fill him in. As he understood it, their little Melanie and her husband might be expecting. It was high time the next generation began providing babies to spoil. Miranda was fretting or babies.