Epilogue - Atherton

The sleek, white Rolls Royce limousine slid smoothly over the hills of San Francisco while Adrian sat ramrod straight in the back seat. Sharona's hand was clasped firmly in both of his and her blonde head was on his shoulder. Her loose, flaxen curls were moving gently with the breeze from the open window – on her side. On his side, her warmth and love washed over him in quiet waves. He moved the blowing curls behind her ear and she snuggled closer to him. They didn't speak, he had made the arrangements for their honeymoon on his own and he wanted to give her something that was almost as wonderful as what he had been given today. Sharona admired the sparkle of her rings in the late afternoon sunlight as she twisted her left hand in lazy circles on her lap; he admired the sparkle of her eyes in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

When Sharona had come into his life he never thought that they'd end up here – Sharona in a flowing bridal gown and he in a black, yes black, tuxedo. He, Adrian Monk, who could see potential outcomes to every crime, nearly every impossible scenario, could never have seen this coming on that first day so long ago. Today, Sharona had given him something he thought he'd never find again, love and devotion, along with something he was certain he could never have, a wonderful son – phobia free - and a life worth living. He sent another silent thanks up to Trudy too, for if it weren't for her, he would have never met Sharona and Benjy. The old saying about doors closing and windows opening, which kind of made him ill to imagine the trapped airborne diseases, not to mention pollution and entering allergens, was apparently, and against all odds, true.

The wedding was, as weddings often are, sentimental and sloppy. He held himself together on the receiving line and tried not to imagine which guests had been sniffy or teary during the ceremony and were then shaking his hand. The afternoon reception had flown in a cloud of perfume and music, laughter and kisses. He remembered to really smile for the photographer and for all the good wishes. Adrian had promised himself to remember every detail this time, to not let the sentiment get in the way of the details. Details. Details. Details. Can't forget the details, just in case. Have to remember in case it all goes away too soon. Remember. Remember. Remember, his internal dialogue beseeched him. But all he could remember was Sharona's eyes, today appearing aquamarine and as bottomless as the ocean, looking into his – while they said their vows, when they danced, when they cut the cake. He couldn't remember conversations with anyone else and barely recalled the hearty hugs of congratulations that it took all of his will not to pull against and run away.

"Adrian?" Sharona's voice cut into his thoughts and brought him back to the present. She'd been quietly basking in his warmth and was content to listen to his steady breathing.

He looked down into her eyes and was momentarily mesmerized once again. "Yes?" he said with a sly smile.

"Where are we going?" She could plainly see they weren't headed to the airport. This didn't disappoint her, she didn't want to contemplate traveling with Adrian and the wipes and the fear of flying – she wanted a grounded honeymoon. Safe and private…where she was didn't matter as much as with whom she was sharing it.

"You'll see." The driver drove them out of San Francisco and southeast onto the San Francisco peninsula. They watched as the city melted away and a town called Atherton came into view. It was a scenic, rural, thickly-wooded, residential area, with abundant open spaces and streets designed primarily as scenic routes rather than for speed of travel. This pleased Adrian as he thought of Sharona trying to speed down these local roads and being unable to. She'd be safe. She'd go out and then come home safely once again. Safely to him and Benjy. Where they'd always be waiting for her.

The metal sign fastened to the huge boulder at the end of the wide, gated drive said simply, "Serenity." They drove into the secluded drive that had been difficult to see from the road, shaded with canopies of aged trees and vines. It was manicured, yet wild, Adrian thought. A little of both of us here.

Sharona had held her tongue just as long as was possible for someone with her temperament to be patient and silent. He admired her restraint, although he could tell she was bursting with curiosity. "Adrian, where are we going?"

"Here," he motioned out the window and Sharona was surprised to see a lovely craftsman style house with pretty stained glass windows on either side of the double doors. It was charming. "This is Serenity? I imagined when I saw the driveway that it was a spa or something."

"You'll see," he answered mysteriously.

The driver came and opened the door, and held out a helping hand. Adrian alighted first and even in a beautiful, beaded wedding gown, Sharona produced a wipe and placed it discreetly in his hand as he helped her out of the cavernous backseat of the limousine. After she stood and rearranged her gown, he took her hand as he worked the wipe in his other, and they walked towards the front door. The knockers were hammered iron and shaped in the traditional arts and crafts style. They both admired that Frank Lloyd Wright-look – he for its simplicity and linear, symmetrical organization, she for the beauty of the wood and the sensible layouts. Each time they had a case in a craftsman-type building, Sharona looked at the mouldings far more often than she looked for the murderer.

He dropped her hand and reached into his pocket. Then he turned to her and said, "I have something for you. Pick a hand." Still unsure of this other, nearly giddy, side of Adrian, she looked at his fists uncertainly.

Biting her lower lip in concentration, she quickly a decisively tapped his right hand. He unfurled his fist to reveal – the used antiseptic wipe. The fact that he'd held onto it for more than two seconds after use didn't escape her notice – he was trying – for me. But still, she was growing impatient. She wanted to be with her new husband not staring at a house from the outside.

"Adrian!" she said through gritted teeth and simultaneously grabbed the wipe and pulled on his left hand impatiently. He quickly smirked at her and produced a brass key. He pushed it into the hammered iron deadbolt and swung the wide door open as far as he could. Sharona made a move towards the entrance and was shocked as Adrian whirled and picked her up in one fluid motion.

"Adrian!"

"Hey, let me enjoy my wedding day!" He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose – the little bits of spontaneity he was showing her were miraculous and she savored each bit as though it were the last one forever. "Welcome home," he said simply as he stepped over the threshold, new wife in his arms, and joy bursting in his heart.

Misunderstanding, she asked, "Did you rent this place for the week?" Not stopping for a reply she went on, "Wow, it's gorgeous! Wow, look at the view!" She struggled out of his arms, impatient to inspect every inch. He smiled at her retreating form indulgently. The hardwood floors were stained dark and they were polished to shine like water in moonlight.

He saw several images of his wife, one reflected in the one-way glass windows, one in the polished floor and the reality of her thin frame. He admired each angle, each curve, each tilt of her head. He followed her to the enormous floor to ceiling windows in the living room, stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her silk-covered waist. The house's elevation afforded a view of the San Francisco Bay through one-way glass. Here they could have the privacy Adrian craved and the vistas that set Sharona free. They looked out at the distant water and over the huge sloping yard. There was a basketball net hung on a pole with a patch of blacktop surrounding it. A built-in barbeque off of the patio and a hammock between two trees that looked almost too stately for such a menial task. There was a pool - what looked to be a kidney-shaped one, but some of it was hidden from her view by a man-made waterfall that gently cascaded water into the pool. She turned in his arms, and said, "Adrian, this is so perfect and beautiful!"

By turns, her husband smiled then frowned slightly and said, "Before we go any further, I have to tell you something. About this place… six months before she died, Trudy, and by default, I, inherited this land from one of her relatives. We were expecting to build a house and maybe raise a family here." Sharona nodded, and swallowed the lump in her throat. This was Trudy's house. Her heart sank. The one worry that had plagued her, no matter what type of reassurance and how much love Adrian lavished on her since their first night together or through their engagement or at their wedding ceremony, came back to her in a rush and deflated her joy. She felt like she had been struck by a physical blow, when only moments before she'd been as happy as happy could ever be. I'm a replacement.

"No, Sharona. You aren't and it isn't."

"Aren't what and isn't what?" He'd read her mind – usually she liked that – now she wasn't so sure.

"I know what you were thinking, that this was Trudy's house. It wasn't. We had the land, but never built the house."

"Then how…?"

"About two years ago, I got a notion to build a house. A safe place. Maybe it was after the fire that nearly killed Ambrose. But I wanted a place to escape to at the end of the day, a place to come home to, but not be alone. I wanted you and Benjy to move in here with me – even then. I'm not even sure what I was picturing when I pictured the two of you living here with me. Was it comfort? Friendship? Family? Safety? I know now it was all of those things, but what I didn't know or maybe I couldn't even admit then was that I was building this house because I was already much more than a little in love with you – and with Benjy. I-I couldn't say it, even to myself or to Kroger. But on the day of Benjy's accident, the day we argued? That's what I was going to discuss with Kroger and what I wanted to talk to you about after and the whole reason Benjy was in the accident in the first place. I wanted to tell you I loved you and wanted you… but-but then…" a small measure of the Adrian she knew so well emerged then, the insecure, unsure Adrian.

"Adrian, that wasn't your fault…you couldn't have known, you love Benjy, you didn't want to see him in an accident, you just needed privacy. Privacy I've been invading since the day we met."

"Well, it turned out to be just what I needed. This house is my wedding gift to you – I want my privacy invaded – within reason – every day for the rest of our lives. Because, as for the other thing you were thinking, you are not a replacement. No one could replace Trudy for me, and I wouldn't want anyone to try. But now, no one could replace you for me, not even Trudy. I told her as much at the cemetery the other day. I-I went to visit. For the last time until the anniversary of her death, from now on, I promise. I didn't thank her for leaving me, but I did thank her for leading me to you."

Tears shined in her eyes, when she realized the impact of Adrian's words. He'd accepted that Trudy was gone, and he wanted her for herself. She was irreplaceable to him now and he had elevated her to be more important in his reality than was his beloved first wife. She felt lucky and happy and grateful and in that moment, she too sent a silent thank you to Trudy and hoped she was smiling for them today. The tears began to fall, and Adrian grabbed a tissue from a nearby box and dried her tears gently.

"Sharona, please don't cry. This is the happiest day of our new life together… the first of many of them together. Let me show you the rest of our new home – that is if you want to live here."

"Are you kidding? Of course I want to live here!" She grabbed his hand and flew down the long hallway to the right. She counted three huge rooms off that hallway – each with their own bathroom. "What were you thinking? How many rooms are in this house?"

"Well, the living room, dining room, kitchen, family room with a home-theater thing and five bedrooms."

"Five bedrooms? Are you going to share one with me or do I get my own?"

"Oh, oh no… we're sharing." He squeezed her hand and kissed her suggestively. Both still astonished by the passion that came on them suddenly and that seemed always to lie just beneath the surface, he continued with difficulty, "Of the others, one is for Benjy – here take a look." He led her to the largest of the rooms off of the second hallway that had already been decorated to her sons' exact specifications. Favorite teams, favorite colors… where the rest of the house was stark white against deeply stained cherry wood floors, mouldings and other details.

"How did you…" she wondered aloud until it dawned on her. "Benjy knew? And he didn't tell me? But he tells me everything!" She felt a motherly pang about sharing her son's confidence, but at the same time a swell of love bubbled up in her that her "two men" loved each other as well and as much as they each loved her. She wandered around and touched everything… there was a shiny and sleek new computer on the handsome mission-style desk and a television was mounted to the ceiling. The bed was meticulously made – Adrian's doing no doubt, and as she studied Benjy's collection of race cars, perfectly laid end to end, Benjy's doing there, she had a thought. She turned and looked at the closet – it was full of most of her son's clothes and shoes and jackets. "No wonder he wanted to pack for himself to stay the week at my sister's. He didn't want me to notice the empty closet. Very sneaky, Mr. Monk."

Adrian grinned and said, "That's not all we did." As they went through the rooms she noticed little touches of "home." Her favorite wine in the wine cooler; her favorite foods in the refrigerator. By the time they got to the far side of the house, she was completely overwhelmed.

"One last surprise," Adrian whispered to her as he led her into the master suite. The bed was covered in crisp dark blue sheets and it was strewn with pink rose petals, which of course were lined up like little soldiers instead of carelessly tossed. She laughed and threw herself into his arms. He led her to one side of the big bed and into a bathroom that was masculine, simple and very organized. A new star shaped showerhead sparkled behind the clear glass of the shower enclosure and a new bar of Lever 2000 sat pristinely on a shelf.

"We're going to share this bathroom everyday?" she questioned with a suspicious lift of her right eyebrow.

"Well-well, I … even for you I can't quite go that far, so, no, the only thing we won't be sharing in our lives is a bathroom." He led her out of his and around the bed into hers. It was like a bathroom from a movie or a fairy tale, every detail from the wide, round tub to a clear-glass stall with electronic shower temperature gizmos and glass shelves full of her favorite perfumes and shampoo and toothpaste. It was a soft shade of pink, soothing and gentle. He'd made this room just for her – to her taste, not his, and although he didn't know it, they were going to make use of that gorgeous tub – post haste. Again, she found herself fighting tears over the gesture from a man who until recently could only be described as self-involved and unaware of the needs and wants of others. It told her he was making strides in his recovery and that he had put her wants and needs above his own…

"But, how on Earth did you manage? You don't drive; you barely use the phone…"

"Benjy does use the phone, and remember that nice man in the limousine who drove us here? His name is Darryl. He's been my employee for months now – there's a second car in the garage…we'll have a car and a driver for me – so that you don't have to chauffer your husband everywhere we go."

Stunned into silence, Sharona knew Adrian had money he never touched, almost as thought it didn't exist. For years now they'd lived on the consulting fees that the SFPD paid him. She, Benjy and Adrian had managed to maintain two residences and three lives… and none of them had wanted for much. She knew for certain that this house had not come from the fees the SFPD paid Adrian. The untouched insurance on Trudy's life, the insurance on the destroyed car, some type of inheritance that had been Trudy's, aside from the land, and became his, his disability insurance, his SFPD pension… she assumed it was a lot, but she never imagined a five-bedroom, seven-bathroom house, no-make-that-estate-in-Atherton-with-a-uniformed-driver kind of money. She was overwhelmed and speechless. This was the man that didn't remember to pay her in their former relationship as employer and employee, now he was lavishing her, spoiling her and she was overcome.

"I almost wish Benjy were here to see your face, but I promised we'd reenact your every reaction next week when he moves in too."

"Every reaction?" Sharona asked with insincere coyness.

Adrian mimicked her earlier gesture and lifted one eye brow, "Well, no, not every reaction. That's why he's in the furthest room in the other wing, by his own request, so we could all have the type of privacy we sometimes need, and still have lots of room to be together also."

"Well, then, let's make the most of the complete and total privacy we're not going to have after this week is over…"

"What do you suggest?"

"You wait right here and leave it to me."

Sharona disappeared into her bathroom, and the next thing Adrian heard was the water running into the tub. A grin illuminated his face and as he walked towards the sound of running water, he began to unbutton his shirt.

Hours later, sated and curled under a blanket and sheets of dark, soft, Egyptian cotton and pink rose petals, Sharona came to her senses long enough to ask, "What's with all of the rooms? Are we expecting a lot of guests?"

"Well, maybe your mother? My brother? When Stottlemeyer fights with Karen?"

Sharona laughed, "Well, that's okay for one or two of the rooms…"

"One to use as an office for us to work." He'd been reinstated to the SFPD a month earlier, but retired after a week. He realized that sometimes the attainment of a goal was more important than the goal itself. Sharona and Adrian were partners in their marriage, but also in their work; he had decided that being a consultant was more lucrative than being a cop and he wanted Sharona by his side. She was working on getting her PI license. He'd put a Stickley partner's desk in the middle room on the hallway with Benjy's room and decided to leave the rest to her.

"That makes sense," she nodded in approval. Suddenly Adrian got quiet and looked intently across the room at the shiny tips of his shoes peeking out from under an armchair. He noticed a spot and began to wonder how to shine the shoes with his buffer still in the San Francisco apartment… "Adrian?" She could see he was nervous. He was straightening his shoulders and moving his neck side to side as if he were being manipulated by a chiropractor.

"We … ah… we … Well, we never really discussed this before, but I was thinking…" he paused to swallow the huge lump in his throat, that maybe we ah, we'd have another child beside Benjy… or two more. Or we could adopt if you didn't want to have any more, or…" Sharona put one finger to his lips and then snaked her arms around his neck.

"Adrian, I didn't want to pressure you, I thought the idea of a messy baby would completely send you 'round the bend…but I'm so happy that you want that! I want more than anything to have a baby. Your baby. Our baby. One we could all love and nurture and teach. You and me and Benjy, together to welcome another life into our family. But are you certain? There are diapers and drool and food fights … to say nothing of the germs and the milk!"

"One thing at a time Sharona, you know I get hives over things like that."

She smiled benevolently…they still had a ways to go; they were still making progress with the milk. Now they had the whole rest of their lives to make that progress, together.