Chapter 1.
If You Are But A Dream

For some reason they were sitting on the couch in their old apartment. Everything was as it had always been. She leaned her head on top of his shoulder, and he leaned his head on top of hers. Both of them had smiles on their faces. Finally, she spoke.

"I didn't want to, you know."

"What?"

"I didn't want to leave."

"Then why did you?"

There was a pause. She breathed deeply before catching his eyes with her own. "Because, Jack…because I wasn't getting any younger. It was time to stop playing games and grow up."

He ignored her most recent statement. "You know, if you'd have stayed, I'd probably have stayed forever."

"I know you would've. That's why I had to go."

He looked away, trying to gather his thoughts. "But, see, I'll never be as happy as I was for those seven years. I didn't realize it then, but now...now I just wish I could go back. I wish I could see you again."

"But Jack, honey, you can."

"No, not like before."

She paused again and placed her hands in his. "I promised you I'd be happy, Jack. Now I need you to promise me that you'll be happy, too."

He gazed intently at her, squeezing her fingers. It was so unfair how she was always right, how she could give him the cold, hard truth while still maintaining the gentleness of an angel. He swallowed hard and nodded with ambivalence. "Alright. I - "

…..

A crack of thunder woke him up. He shot out of bed, nearly knocking into Vicky and almost waking her up. Jack paused mid-position before he was completely sure that she was still asleep. He let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the window, but not before slamming his knee on the side table. His muffled squeal was just quiet enough to prevent her from stirring.

He rested his head on the window while he attempted to rub away the pain. Outside, it was completely dry. Good old southern California - always on the verge of rain, but never quite getting there. The thundered rolled on above, mocking him.

It seemed hard to sleep lately. He felt as though something were wrong, like something he'd been trying to suppress for a long time was finally poking its head through his protective barrier. He was beginning to realize that this was his life – this right here – and that maybe it wasn't quite everything he'd always imagined it was going to be. It scared him. He'd been with Vicky for over a year now, and even though he'd rushed into the relationship to fill a sudden void in his heart, he assumed it'd all eventually fall into place. But now, as he stood there in the dark, with only an occasional flash of lightning to light the room, he wasn't completely certain that it was ever going to. Not entirely.

He was doing fine, though. Really, he was okay. Life was tolerable, and that's all you can ever really ask for.

But was he truly happy?

The thunder cracked again.

Janet sat in bed on the other side of the city. Her light was clicked on beside her as she read her newest mystery novel. It was her ritual on weekends when Philip was away on business. She'd stay up late, and anything that had been on her mind that day would melt away with the turn of a page. And there'd been a lot on her mind lately.

It seemed as though there were some sort of temporal shift in her relationship with her husband. It wasn't any one particular issue; it was just their general demeanor toward each other. The honeymoon phase was officially over, and reality was sinking in. It was the reality of daily life, of jobs, of wanting to start a family – and none of it quite coming together in the way that she'd planned. But she assured herself that this was just the way of things, that life never went according to plan, and that it would all work out in time.

Another crack of thunder just as she was reaching the big reveal. She screamed and tossed the book in the air, causing her to completely lose her place. Placing her hand on her chest and trying to catch her breath, she looked over at the alarm clock. It was past one in the morning. Maybe it was finally time to call it a night.

Still, she got up and walked over to the window. Their large home was situated on a hill, and she saw the city of Santa Monica laid out before her, the last lights of the night still holding on. It felt different, living this sort of lifestyle. Having a lot of money was not something that she was used to. She had to have been the luckiest girl in the world. So why did it all feel like some sort of façade?

She leaned her head against the window, waiting for it to start raining outside – or at least to just do something. Anything. If she stared long enough, maybe she could will something to happen. She supposed that maybe the answers to all of her concerns were out there somewhere.

Or problems. Maybe there were just more problems.

…..

Janet absolutely despised the snooty charity parties Phillip dragged her to every so often. They felt so fake. It was one thing for the rich to donate their money to a good cause, but another thing entirely when it was done merely for appearances. There wasn't one person among them who was even aware of the importance of the cause to which they were donating, and a few, she was sure, who weren't even aware of what the cause was at all.

For her part, Janet was quite content with donating to the new AIDS foundation to help ailing young people.

"Is that what this is all about?" Phillip asked after taking a sip of his scotch. "I could've sworn that wasn't until next month."

"Yes," Janet rolled her eyes, playfully smacking him. "If you paid attention, you'd know that."

She looked quite stunning in an off-the-shoulder, floor length red dress. Her hair was now long enough to wear up, and at last she had enough money to afford pearls to adorn the ensemble. If she was going to suffer through another one of these events, she'd figured, she might as well go all out.

"Besides, I think it's a rather good cause. AIDS seems to be everywhere lately."

"Not here, I hope," Phillip quipped.

Janet gave him her signature glare, clearly not amused. "I'm sure if anything so horrible affected the lives of anyone here, they could afford some sort of obscure cure that hasn't even been invented yet."

Phillip detected her impatience with the elite of Santa Monica, knowing full well how much she hated these parties. "Come on now, Janet. These people aren't so bad. Paul and Maura are going to be here, you know. You like Paul and Maura, don't you?"

She sighed. "When, and only when, they are surrounded by all of these other awful people do they ever come across as tolerable."

Phillip produced his awkward, uncomfortable Phillip grin. On cue, the couple waltzed over to him and Janet, pinkies held high as they nibbled on whatever sort of delicacy the caterers had provided.

"Phillip! Janet, dear!" Maura exclaimed when she reached them. She provided a formal, fake peck on each of their cheeks, substituted by the word "muah" two times.

"So good to see you!" Paul shook Phillip's hand, and kissed Janet's. She returned as convincing a fake smile as she could muster.

"Have you tried the caviar? You simply must try the caviar," Maura intervened, even though not a bite was taken from…whatever it was that she held in her hand.

"I'm…quite alright, thank you," Janet replied, a bit repulsed.

"Phillip, old pal, how was the trip to New York? This past weekend, wasn't it?" Paul asked.

"Yes, that's right. Just some routine business. Nothing too exciting."

"Nothing too exciting? Don't be so modest. I heard you made quite a deal with that artist."

"What artist?" Janet piped in. This was news to her.

"Uh…a modern artist by the name of Renfield. He's very big in New York. We worked out a deal with the Guggenheim and…"

Janet's heart dropped. "Oh, I see. I guess that means you're going to be in New York a lot for a few weeks again."

Maura and Paul exchanged glances. "You mean you didn't tell her yet?" Paul asked.

"Tell me what, Phillip?" Janet asked, looking him directly in the eyes.

Phillip appeared unnerved, uncomfortably switching his weight from one leg to the other. "Well, it was supposed to be a surprise…"

"You're moving to New York!" Maura shouted before Phillip could finish, lifting her hands in the air, and carelessly spilling some of her chardonnay. "Isn't it wonderful?!"

Janet's mouth was slightly agape as she continued to look at Phillip, her eyes expressing a feeling of betrayal. After a moment, she took a breath and spoke quietly. "You've been back for almost an entire week. When were you planning on telling me about this move?"

"I – soon! I was going to tell you soon. It just didn't feel like the right – "

"Uh oh. Sounds like trouble in paradise," Paul joked, as if he thought he were the most clever person in the entire world.

Janet turned to the couple, her voice and demeanor firm. "Paul. Maura. Leave."

"Well!" Maura stood back, offended.

"Looks like you have a live one on your hands, Phil," Paul muttered under his breath before they walked away.

"Phillip. What makes you think you could make this deal without consulting me first?"

"Janet, look –"

"Don't you Janet look me. What gives you the right to accept a job on the entire opposite side of the country – "

"I just assumed that you'd be okay with it!"

"Oh, you just assumed, did you? You just assumed that I'd give up my life and everything I have here in Santa Monica just like that?"

"Janet, it was the deal of a lifetime! If I didn't make a decision on the spot, I would've missed out! I've been working for this my entire life!"

She paused for a moment, incredulous. Quietly she asked, "What about my life?"

He bit his tongue, unable to fight back. He knew her feelings were completely justifiable. Still, he felt that if she just gave the idea a chance… "Can't you just think about it?"

"You didn't really give me a chance to do that, did you?"

She held eye contact briefly before she turned and made her way toward the entrance hall.

…..

"Jack, would you please put the hors d'oevres down if you're not going to eat them?"

"But it's all wrong. They prepared these entirely wrong. It's cheap, Vicky. If these people are trying to be impressive, they've failed. Look at these canapés, for crying out loud." He grabbed one and held it in front of her, disgusted.

She smiled. "It's just food, Jack," she replied, before eating the tiny appetizer in one bite.

He took a tiny step back, offended. "It is not just food, Vicky. It's art."

"Jack, I really think it's time for you to just take a break from your job for a little while and enjoy the party."

He sighed halfheartedly. "I would, but I always feel so out of place at these charity galas. I have to mingle with all of these fancy rich people and pretend that I can actually afford to donate half of what they do."

"I know, and I promise I'll make it up to you, but you know how much it means to daddy."

He groaned his classic Jack Tripper groan. "That would be all fine and dandy if doing these things would actually make him like me."

Vicky chuckled. "You're going to marry his little girl. He's never entirely going to like you."

He rolled his eyes and nodded. "Peachy."

"And this here is my lovely daughter Victoria," Mr. Bradford exclaimed to a couple of his friends as he walked over to Jack and Vicky. Under his breath he added, "and her fiancé Jack Tripper."

They exchanged pleasantries. One of them piped in, "Well, Mr. Tripper, James must really like you if he's willing to take you on as a business partner."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm not – "

"He's not kidding about how excited he is for this new venture, isn't that right Jack?" Mr. Bradford said as he placed his hand over Jack's mouth, cutting him off.

Jack looked at Vicky, confused. "Um…yeah, right. I'm very excited. Thrilled, even."

Mr. Bradford lightly slugged Jack on the shoulder, putting on airs. "That's my boy. So ambitious."

Jack butted in sarcastically. "Yes. Very ambitious, considering I'm a-"

"Was a chef," Mr. Bradford covered Jack's mouth again. "Yes, see, he's very new at this so for him to have already acquired the business sense is simply…quite…impressive."

Jack was beginning to have enough. "What do you mean was a chef. What's going on here? Vicky?"

"Jack, please, not now," Vicky added quietly.

"No, I think if you're father is going to speak for me I ought to know what he's talking about."

Mr. Bradford turned to his friends and asked to be excused. "Jack, what are you trying to accomplish by embarrassing me in front of the Ross brothers?"

"I don't care what the Ross Brothers think. Why are you telling people that I'm in business with you? What's going on?"

Mr. Bradford sighed. "Victoria, have you not spoken to Jack yet about our deal?"

She was sheepish and quiet. "Not exactly…"

"What deal?" Jack demanded.

"The deal that if you're going to marry my daughter, you're going to have to go into the family business. Somebody's going to have to carry on my legacy, especially considering my plans to retire…"

"Oh, no. If you think for one minute that going into your business wouldn't be a waste of my time." He paused to chuckle at his pun of Mr. Bradford's waste disposal empire. When he was only met with blank stares, he added, "The only legacy I'm going to have is my own. I'm a chef. I don't have time to take over your business!"

"Well, that's why daddy and I figured if you sold the restaurant and maybe just did catering on the side…I mean I wouldn't want you to give up your passion entirely. I know how much cooking means to you and –

"Wait, hold on a second. Sell the restaurant? You want me to sell the restaurant?"

"Well naturally I'd be the one selling the restaurant, considering I own the building," Mr. Bradford added.

"Come on, Jack, you and I both know it's not doing very well, and we'd be finding a new place to live anyway…"

His eyes expressed deep hurt as he looked as his fiancé, betrayed. This scene was far too familiar, reminding him of when a past fiancé, Denise, had attempted to do the same thing to him. He hadn't thought Vicky was capable of it.

"I can't believe you. I mean I'd expect this out of your father, but you too?"

He shook his head and left the both of them.

"Jack…" Vicky began, but he waved her off as he entered the front hallway.

It was a great hall, elegant and elaborate, adorned with a chandelier and a slightly curving staircase in the far right corner. It was romantically lit and only occupied by a few other people. He sighed as he slumped against the wall between the entrance and an large, antique grandfather clock.

It was true. The restaurant hadn't been doing the best, but it was enough to get by on and that's all Jack could ask for as long as he was able to do what he loved. He was going to work hard until the place was back on its feet again. Maybe when he was younger he'd have been willing to give up, but at the time he'd had people in his life that wouldn't allow him to do that. Now it seemed as though he was entirely on his own.

Or was he?

He pulled his hands away from his face where he'd been squeezing the bridge of his nose in frustration. He looked around the foyer at these poor saps who were putting on airs and pretending to be somebody they weren't. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw red movement to his right. On the midway point of the staircase, looking out a window with what appeared to be the same vein of exasperation that Jack was experiencing, stood a woman he knew, but hadn't seen in some time.

He stood up straight, his mind suddenly transfixed on something entirely new. He spoke before he could think twice.

"…Janet?"