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***July 27, 2026***
Robert Goren searched the interior of his wife's Honda Pilot, then called over his shoulder, "Eames? Wasn't there another bag?"
It was still his habit, even after almost five years of marriage, for him to affectionately call her by her last name. "No. The luggage is all inside."
He insisted, "This was a shopping bag, taped shut. I thought you had found something for Min's birthday in the dealer's room."
Alexandra Eames Goren began, "Oh…yes-"
She was saved by Randall shouting from the kitchen, "Mom! Did you want all the clothes in the washer now?"
"Let me help Rand and Min with the clothes. I want the laundry finished before bedtime," she returned. "We'll see later."
He was puzzled, for Alex never prevaricated in that fashion, nor did she make a fuss about laundry.
By the time he had closed up the car, taken the bag of souvenirs and the program books into the house, taken something out of the freezer for dinner, changed out of his clothes so they could be washed, and helped set Bandit the budgie back in place, he had forgotten the bag. It wasn't in the Pilot, Alex said it was inside, so be it.
It was surprisingly easy to get back into the routine of their summer schedule: he'd had trivia questions done ahead of time so that Tuesday evening at the Dark Crystal went off without a hitch, unless it was Alex's cousin Phil teasing he wanted to do another substitute hitch as the Wizard, only to be reminded that he would be doing so in another month when they went on vacation.
Wednesday was the usual session at Big Brothers/Big Sisters, with Randall and Olivia regaling the usual crowd about the convention panels, leaving out the final evening's excitement. That memory, however, remained a presence--the pistol in MacKenzie Saunders' hand continued to haunt his dreams, and Alex's as well, if her semi-nightly trips to the front parlor to brood were any indication. It was the scab on what had been a fine weekend, especially with meeting former actor Mason Wagner, who Olivia considered "a kindred spirit," and seeing Lynn Bishop again. He was still embarrassed by his behavior when Alex had been on desk duty during her surrogate pregnancy; he had felt awkward, lonely, and rudderless--he could say anything to Eames, and she would automatically understand his intention. She put up with his quirks. Bishop had been an unknown and he had failed most of the time to be a good partner to her. But she was of hardier stock than he expected and rolled with it. Her final gesture in doing all the paperwork on the Corinne Kennedy case while he'd gone to visit Alex and her new nephew had made him regret his earlier actions.
He was glad he'd had the opportunity to make it up to her.
He'd just wished it hadn't ended up with a Glock in both their faces.
***August 20, 2026***
"Have we kept them waiting long enough?" he whispered under the covers. "I can hear them breathing out there now."
Alex chuckled, nuzzling him under his left ear. "I do so wish we had more time undercover."
"Well," he teased, nearly inaudibly, "we could always schedule another session for tonight. I see no reason for abandoning our undercover missions."
She stifled a laugh. "You're a naughty boy. Bobby Goren."
"Mnn," he said, kissing her deeply. "I loved my birthday gift. But I'm greedy and want another later."
"Very naughty boy."
In a few minutes they were less disheveled and properly clad, and Alex called, "I can hear the two of you snuffling outside the door. Come on in."
Olivia called through their bedroom door. "That's Sam, not us. So you're done canoodling?"
The children had their revenge, for in the next minute, eighty pounds of excited collie leaped on the bed and washed the faces of both his favorite adults. Then Bobby shooed him off the bed and he was replaced by Olivia and Randall, both bouncing until the sturdy bed creaked. Each of them had greeting cards in hand and they practically chorused, "Happy birthday!" except that Olivia caroled "Papa!" at the end and Randall insisted "Dad!"
Olivia hand-painted all her birthday cards. This year's card for her father had a stack of books upon it, each with a title by Freud, Jung, Erasmus, Plato, and Gladwell. They were detailed so well they looked like actual books. Inside her neat calligraphy stated, "To Papa, always my favorite thinker. Love, your 'Min.'" Randall had gone for a store-bought card with a pun: an artistic skull with a mustache--and Randall had sketched in a beard--proclaimed "Dad to the Bone." Bobby admired the first and laughed at the second, and pulled both into a bear hug.
"Sam, fetch!" Olivia ordered, and the collie trotted from the room and returned with the very shopping bag Bobby had been looking for when they arrived home from SpaceFest.
He tilted his head, puzzled. "I thought-"
Randall said happily, "-that we were looking for ideas for 'Livia's birthday? Then we did fool him, Mom!"
Olivia sparkled like the flicker of a fire. "That was all on purpose. We were trying to find something different for you!"
Randall: "I mean, we know you love books-"
Olivia: "But we always give you books-"
Randall: "And it's a special adult birthday-"
Olivia: "-because you're 65."
She added, "But we couldn't afford it-"
Alex said indulgently, "So Mom took up the slack, since it's a family thing."
"Open it, please," Randall begged. "So we can see what it looks like inside."
With deliberate slowness, Bobby began to peel the tape from the bag, taking care not to rip the shiny royal blue surface, until Olivia blew out an exasperated breath. "Papa! Where's your switchblade? You're taking forever!"
"Drama queen," Alex whispered in his ear, and he laughed and reached for the knife on the night stand.
He smiled again, this time with a wistful look in his eyes. What he pulled out of the gift bag was the Lego Sherlock Holmes set.
"See," Randall said triumphantly, "it has little figures of Holmes, Watson, Moriarty, a Baker Street irregular, and Mrs. Hudson!"
"And it folds and unfolds," Olivia pointed out the obvious. "Fold it and it's as narrow as a book, unfold it and it's Baker Street with flaps you can open to see the flat at 221B. Isn't it brill?"
"It's brill and it's perfect," and he laid a kiss on each cheek. "And we can assemble it together."
"We need a big space to assemble it, though. Maybe your old desk, since you only use the one now?" Randall asked.
Alex ventured, "I was thinking…we won't be using the dining room for anything until autumn. What if we put it together on the dining room table--so long as you're careful."
"Oh, that's a sick idea!" Randall burst out.
"Maybe we can get cardboard to put under it, to protect the table," Olivia proposed. "And use those old egg cartons to sort the pieces."
"Let's have scrambled eggs for breakfast," Randall chimed in, "so we have to buy more eggs and have more compartments to sort in."
"We're making breakfast this morning, Papa!" Olivia said happily, kissing him. "Hurry, Randall. I'll get the coffee and the oatmeal started. Happy birthday!"
Randall was more dignified this time. "Happy birthday, Dad," and reached out a hand to shake.
Then both were gone, pounding down the stairs, with the loud click of dog toenails behind them.
Bobby was still turning the kit over in his hands, smiling at it.
"Surprise!" Alex said with a twinkle in her eye. "And this is only the beginning. Happy birthday, my Wizard."