Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele
Part 3: House of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Dissonance
Saturday, 10 December 1988 -- 37 weeks, 2 days
Laura discretely followed the three girls to the restroom. Raised voices brought her out of the stall as she
recognized Siobhán’s unmistakable Irish accent in the altercation.
“You don’t even know who I am!”
“But I do. You’re Remington Steele’s daughter. I think I have a score to even with your dad. He put
mine away; maybe I’ll put yours away.” Laura hadn’t heard the sing-song voice of Penny Descoine in
years. Penny’s head tilted in a childish fashion as she leaned close. “Daddy and I have been waiting so
long for this. It’s all fun now.”
Siobhán instinctively looked around for Laura. Caitlyn and Jennifer flanked either side of her in support,
and Laura came up behind Penny to lay a hand on her shoulder.
“Making threats to my daughter, Miss Descoine?”
Penny turned around, her eyes wide with delight. With an excellent presence of mind, Caitlyn whispered
in Siobhán’s ear and bolted from the restroom--presumably to find Remington. “Oh, so you figured it
out! Daddy will be so happy!” She clapped her hands together. “He likes it when you find his clues.
But he wasn’t happy to go to prison. No, not at all. He’s angry with you, Miss Holt. But I’m going to
help him.”
Remington shoved open the restroom door. Penny took one look at him, giggled, and then gave Laura a
hard shove that had her stumbling backward. Both Siobhán and Jennifer reached to keep her from falling
just as Remington lunged to do the same. In the confusion, Penny stole out the door with all the deftness
of a street thief.
Laura didn’t fall. Instead, she glared at Remington. “Go after her!” She waved her hand toward the
door. He narrowed his eyes in irritation even as he followed her order.
To Jennifer and Siobhán, she asked, “Are you two okay?”
“Yeah, Mom, but are you?”
“I’m fine,” Laura assured her with a hug, although she didn’t tell the girls how the baby had drawn up
close and high in her body as the adrenaline coursed through her. It was a distinctly odd sensation. She
unconsciously rubbed the top of her belly as if to soothe the child.
They met Caitlyn at the door of the restroom and walked out together. While the girls chattered in a tight
knot behind her, Laura found Remington outside the theater stalking about in silence. She crossed her
arms to rub them as she approached him.
“Rei?”
He turned and immediately took her into his arms. “Laura.”
“I’m all right. She didn’t hurt me or the baby.”
“The bloody twit is quick. Reminds me of someone I used to know,” he said morosely.
Laura heaved a sigh. “We told Jennifer's and Caitlyn’s parents we would take them home. Let’s do
that, and then we’ll call Detective Baylor and give him an update.”
Remington reached for a toothpick and chewed on it, nodding his agreement.
By the time the Steeles explained the incident to both sets of parents and returned home with Siobhán,
Laura was exhausted. She thought she’d done an admirable job of hiding her weariness, but Remington
saw straight through her.
“No excuses, love. Go get into bed. I’ll talk to John.”
She started to retort, but the ache in her back and tension from where the baby had drawn up got through
to her. She nodded instead. “I’ll be in the bathtub. Let me know what he says.”
The water was cooling when Remington came in to help her from the whirlpool.
“How’s Siobhán?”
“Watching a movie in the living room. She doesn’t want to be alone just yet. I’ve been sitting with her.”
Laura nodded. “I should be there too.”
“No, you need to rest,” he admonished lightly.
“I’ll rest on the sofa.”
Slowly, he nodded. “All right, love.” He kissed her on the temple and drew her to him, holding her close
and feeling the baby kick against his stomach.
Detective Baylor received permission from a judge to conduct a search of Penny’s house on the basis of
the confrontation and threats she’d made the night before. In an effort to keep the private investigator
from making his own search, the police officer invited Mr. Steele along.
After ascertaining no one was home, the two men picked through the myriad of traps she’d set. Some
bordered on sheer brilliance, others on madness.
All the evidence pointed to the belief she might have been living in a small corner of the house for a brief
period of time. A short hallway connected her bedroom to the kitchen with a bath off to one side.
“She must have been using the window to come in,” John indicated.
“Aye. Doesn’t seem as if she’s been here much. Some of the food in the kitchen is spoiled.”
“But she’s been living here. We’ll keep the house under surveillance.”
“Won’t do any good. Carter’s been keeping the place under surveillance since Thursday. She hasn’t
shown.”
“Your man?”
Remington indicated with a thumb out the window. “White Rabbit over there.”
“Ah, nice undercover car. Didn’t rate a second glance.”
“It’s quite a bit more discreet than your standard large, dark American car with tinted windows.”
Remington peered at the photos on the dresser. Copies of the photos she’d sent to him dotted the
surface. “She’s certainly fixated on us.”
John crossed over to look, then walked to the window. He called out to one of his men, “Bag it all up
for evidence.”
Siobhán and Laura finished unpacking the boxes in the meantime. The things that belonged to
Remington were added to the nursery. The teddy bear went up on the shelf above the dresser where
Siobhán declared he could watch over the baby.
A frustrated Remington came home to find Siobhán studying for a physics test and Laura doing casework.
“Laura,” he warned as he went into her office.
“Don’t,” she warned, holding a hand up. “I’m not in the mood to be berated for working. I’m no
different from you; I need something to keep my mind occupied until we stop Penny.”
He left her alone, keeping busy in the kitchen while she worked out her own anxieties.
That night, Laura seemed to nestle closer than usual to him in bed. Grateful, he draped an arm across
her waist and buried his face in her hair.
Sometime around two, he woke to the oddest sensation. Laura’s belly hardened then softened
rhythmically. After nearly half an hour of timing the contractions with his fingertips and his own innate
sense of time, he slipped from the bedroom to call Dr. Berger.
“She’s sleeping through the contractions, Mr. Steele?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Then they aren’t anything to worry over, yet. It’s called false labor, although ‘pre-labor’ is probably a
better term. She still has a couple of weeks to go, and it’s all quite normal. You’re coming in tomorrow,
correct?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll see how she’s doing then. In the meantime, go back to sleep, Mr. Steele. Mom and baby are just
fine.”
Reassured, he crawled back into bed. In his dreams, he sat near her with a stopwatch and a notepad,
marking each spasm as it occurred.
Monday morning, Remington pulled out of the hospital parking lot after Laura’s appointment, turning the
wheel of the Auburn to head for home rather than the office.
“Mr. Steele. Did you forget where we work?”
He didn’t miss Laura’s saccharine tone and replied in kind, “Did you forget what Dr. Berger told you not
twenty minutes ago, Mrs. Steele?”
“Yes, but you know damned well that it’s easier for me to distract myself with work than to sit at home
and fret,” Laura countered acerbically.
Remington held his tongue. Dr. Berger had clucked disapprovingly over Laura’s blood pressure. The
obstetrician made the situation clear to both of them--Laura needed rest. Feet up, eyes closed kind of
rest--not working and not sitting for long stretches.
Gearing up for the inevitable fight, Remington tightened his jaw in anticipation. He didn’t blame her in
the least for not wanting to stay home. The times he’d been confined by a broken leg or two had been
monotonous after the second movie on the first day. Only having Laura to distract him had been the
saving grace in either situation.
But he couldn’t stay with her today. Dr. Berger had warned him that if he hadn’t begun wrapping
matters up at the office, he’d better get busy.
He’d hardly moved the gear shift into park when Laura heaved out of the seat, slamming the car door
behind her.
“Easy there, love. The car’s still an antique.”
She whirled around, ponytail swinging. “I don’t care about the damned car. I care about being parked at
home like an invalid.” She pivoted, stabbing the elevator button.
He kept his lips firmly shut while they rode in icy silence to their level.
Once inside, she dropped her purse on the foyer table and marched to the sofa to sit. “Happy now?”
Irritated by her stubbornness, he said, “Laura, it’s for a bloody week while the tyke bakes a few more
days. Is that too much to ask?”
“How is this supposed to be less stressful--knowing you’re doing my job?”
“Your job? Laura--your job right now is to take care of yourself and our child. As of a half hour ago,
you don’t have another job,” he shot back angrily. He couldn’t have aimed a bullet more carefully.
With instant regret, he watched it slice through her heart.
Her back stiffened, her chin came up, and with ice in her words, she stood, saying, “As you wish, Mr.
Steele.” She turned and walked to their bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Remington followed, laying a hand on the door before withdrawing it.
He couldn’t have known that she leaned against the other side, head tilted up as she tried not to let the
tears spill over. When she heard the click of the foyer door as it closed, she sank down to the floor, her
breath heaving in sobs.
In all of Laura’s dreams for herself, not one had involved staying home while her husband ran the agency.
For two excruciatingly long days, Remington worked. He took Dr. Berger seriously and bore the
responsibility of shuttling Siobhán to and from school and her activities, settling the last of his security
installations before the holidays, reviewing Kaleb’s casework and spot-checking Sandra’s. In the
meantime, Mildred combed through clues, looking for any trace of Penny Descoine’s whereabouts.
In the evenings, with Siobhán’s assistance, he took care of dinner, finished emptying the boxes from
Ireland, made a mad dash to the grocery store and to the dry cleaner and another to purchase the last
minute baby items Laura had listed out for him.
It was more responsibility than he’d borne in all his thirty-six years.
Without Laura’s input on a daily basis into the workings of the agency, he felt the weight of each decision
he made as if he were Atlas himself, balancing the world on his shoulders.
He’d complimented her any number of times about her ability both as a brilliant detective and as a deft
manager of the business. For certain, he’d admired any number of times the way she encouraged a staff
member to follow a hunch or gently led him or her down the proper road.
Stupidly, he’d compared himself to her and believed himself to be her equal in such matters. Oh, he had
the words, but her sure hands and unwavering confidence had been a steadying influence upon him.
Without them, the cold draft of uncertainty chilled his self-assurance. He despised second guessing his
own thinking.
In the meantime, Laura’s misery ate holes in him. She hadn’t mentioned the agency at all, nor asked
after any of their pending cases. In the evenings, she stirred from the bed only long enough to eat dinner,
play the piano for a half hour or so, and soak in the bath.
He planned to stay home Wednesday morning to keep her company--but as matters developed, both of
them would be needed in the agency that day.
12 November 2009
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Reckoning
Saturday, 10 December 1988 -- 37 weeks, 2 days
Laura discretely followed the three girls to the restroom. Raised voices brought her out of the stall as she
recognized Siobhán’s unmistakable Irish accent in the altercation.
“You don’t even know who I am!”
“But I do. You’re Remington Steele’s daughter. I think I have a score to even with your dad. He put
mine away; maybe I’ll put yours away.” Laura hadn’t heard the sing-song voice of Penny Descoine in
years. Penny’s head tilted in a childish fashion as she leaned close. “Daddy and I have been waiting so
long for this. It’s all fun now.”
Siobhán instinctively looked around for Laura. Caitlyn and Jennifer flanked either side of her in support,
and Laura came up behind Penny to lay a hand on her shoulder.
“Making threats to my daughter, Miss Descoine?”
Penny turned around, her eyes wide with delight. With an excellent presence of mind, Caitlyn whispered
in Siobhán’s ear and bolted from the restroom--presumably to find Remington. “Oh, so you figured it
out! Daddy will be so happy!” She clapped her hands together. “He likes it when you find his clues.
But he wasn’t happy to go to prison. No, not at all. He’s angry with you, Miss Holt. But I’m going to
help him.”
Remington shoved open the restroom door. Penny took one look at him, giggled, and then gave Laura a
hard shove that had her stumbling backward. Both Siobhán and Jennifer reached to keep her from falling
just as Remington lunged to do the same. In the confusion, Penny stole out the door with all the deftness
of a street thief.
Laura didn’t fall. Instead, she glared at Remington. “Go after her!” She waved her hand toward the
door. He narrowed his eyes in irritation even as he followed her order.
To Jennifer and Siobhán, she asked, “Are you two okay?”
“Yeah, Mom, but are you?”
“I’m fine,” Laura assured her with a hug, although she didn’t tell the girls how the baby had drawn up
close and high in her body as the adrenaline coursed through her. It was a distinctly odd sensation. She
unconsciously rubbed the top of her belly as if to soothe the child.
They met Caitlyn at the door of the restroom and walked out together. While the girls chattered in a tight
knot behind her, Laura found Remington outside the theater stalking about in silence. She crossed her
arms to rub them as she approached him.
“Rei?”
He turned and immediately took her into his arms. “Laura.”
“I’m all right. She didn’t hurt me or the baby.”
“The bloody twit is quick. Reminds me of someone I used to know,” he said morosely.
Laura heaved a sigh. “We told Jennifer's and Caitlyn’s parents we would take them home. Let’s do
that, and then we’ll call Detective Baylor and give him an update.”
Remington reached for a toothpick and chewed on it, nodding his agreement.
By the time the Steeles explained the incident to both sets of parents and returned home with Siobhán,
Laura was exhausted. She thought she’d done an admirable job of hiding her weariness, but Remington
saw straight through her.
“No excuses, love. Go get into bed. I’ll talk to John.”
She started to retort, but the ache in her back and tension from where the baby had drawn up got through
to her. She nodded instead. “I’ll be in the bathtub. Let me know what he says.”
The water was cooling when Remington came in to help her from the whirlpool.
“How’s Siobhán?”
“Watching a movie in the living room. She doesn’t want to be alone just yet. I’ve been sitting with her.”
Laura nodded. “I should be there too.”
“No, you need to rest,” he admonished lightly.
“I’ll rest on the sofa.”
Slowly, he nodded. “All right, love.” He kissed her on the temple and drew her to him, holding her close
and feeling the baby kick against his stomach.
Detective Baylor received permission from a judge to conduct a search of Penny’s house on the basis of
the confrontation and threats she’d made the night before. In an effort to keep the private investigator
from making his own search, the police officer invited Mr. Steele along.
After ascertaining no one was home, the two men picked through the myriad of traps she’d set. Some
bordered on sheer brilliance, others on madness.
All the evidence pointed to the belief she might have been living in a small corner of the house for a brief
period of time. A short hallway connected her bedroom to the kitchen with a bath off to one side.
“She must have been using the window to come in,” John indicated.
“Aye. Doesn’t seem as if she’s been here much. Some of the food in the kitchen is spoiled.”
“But she’s been living here. We’ll keep the house under surveillance.”
“Won’t do any good. Carter’s been keeping the place under surveillance since Thursday. She hasn’t
shown.”
“Your man?”
Remington indicated with a thumb out the window. “White Rabbit over there.”
“Ah, nice undercover car. Didn’t rate a second glance.”
“It’s quite a bit more discreet than your standard large, dark American car with tinted windows.”
Remington peered at the photos on the dresser. Copies of the photos she’d sent to him dotted the
surface. “She’s certainly fixated on us.”
John crossed over to look, then walked to the window. He called out to one of his men, “Bag it all up
for evidence.”
Siobhán and Laura finished unpacking the boxes in the meantime. The things that belonged to
Remington were added to the nursery. The teddy bear went up on the shelf above the dresser where
Siobhán declared he could watch over the baby.
A frustrated Remington came home to find Siobhán studying for a physics test and Laura doing casework.
“Laura,” he warned as he went into her office.
“Don’t,” she warned, holding a hand up. “I’m not in the mood to be berated for working. I’m no
different from you; I need something to keep my mind occupied until we stop Penny.”
He left her alone, keeping busy in the kitchen while she worked out her own anxieties.
That night, Laura seemed to nestle closer than usual to him in bed. Grateful, he draped an arm across
her waist and buried his face in her hair.
Sometime around two, he woke to the oddest sensation. Laura’s belly hardened then softened
rhythmically. After nearly half an hour of timing the contractions with his fingertips and his own innate
sense of time, he slipped from the bedroom to call Dr. Berger.
“She’s sleeping through the contractions, Mr. Steele?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Then they aren’t anything to worry over, yet. It’s called false labor, although ‘pre-labor’ is probably a
better term. She still has a couple of weeks to go, and it’s all quite normal. You’re coming in tomorrow,
correct?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll see how she’s doing then. In the meantime, go back to sleep, Mr. Steele. Mom and baby are just
fine.”
Reassured, he crawled back into bed. In his dreams, he sat near her with a stopwatch and a notepad,
marking each spasm as it occurred.
Monday morning, Remington pulled out of the hospital parking lot after Laura’s appointment, turning the
wheel of the Auburn to head for home rather than the office.
“Mr. Steele. Did you forget where we work?”
He didn’t miss Laura’s saccharine tone and replied in kind, “Did you forget what Dr. Berger told you not
twenty minutes ago, Mrs. Steele?”
“Yes, but you know damned well that it’s easier for me to distract myself with work than to sit at home
and fret,” Laura countered acerbically.
Remington held his tongue. Dr. Berger had clucked disapprovingly over Laura’s blood pressure. The
obstetrician made the situation clear to both of them--Laura needed rest. Feet up, eyes closed kind of
rest--not working and not sitting for long stretches.
Gearing up for the inevitable fight, Remington tightened his jaw in anticipation. He didn’t blame her in
the least for not wanting to stay home. The times he’d been confined by a broken leg or two had been
monotonous after the second movie on the first day. Only having Laura to distract him had been the
saving grace in either situation.
But he couldn’t stay with her today. Dr. Berger had warned him that if he hadn’t begun wrapping
matters up at the office, he’d better get busy.
He’d hardly moved the gear shift into park when Laura heaved out of the seat, slamming the car door
behind her.
“Easy there, love. The car’s still an antique.”
She whirled around, ponytail swinging. “I don’t care about the damned car. I care about being parked at
home like an invalid.” She pivoted, stabbing the elevator button.
He kept his lips firmly shut while they rode in icy silence to their level.
Once inside, she dropped her purse on the foyer table and marched to the sofa to sit. “Happy now?”
Irritated by her stubbornness, he said, “Laura, it’s for a bloody week while the tyke bakes a few more
days. Is that too much to ask?”
“How is this supposed to be less stressful--knowing you’re doing my job?”
“Your job? Laura--your job right now is to take care of yourself and our child. As of a half hour ago,
you don’t have another job,” he shot back angrily. He couldn’t have aimed a bullet more carefully.
With instant regret, he watched it slice through her heart.
Her back stiffened, her chin came up, and with ice in her words, she stood, saying, “As you wish, Mr.
Steele.” She turned and walked to their bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Remington followed, laying a hand on the door before withdrawing it.
He couldn’t have known that she leaned against the other side, head tilted up as she tried not to let the
tears spill over. When she heard the click of the foyer door as it closed, she sank down to the floor, her
breath heaving in sobs.
In all of Laura’s dreams for herself, not one had involved staying home while her husband ran the agency.
For two excruciatingly long days, Remington worked. He took Dr. Berger seriously and bore the
responsibility of shuttling Siobhán to and from school and her activities, settling the last of his security
installations before the holidays, reviewing Kaleb’s casework and spot-checking Sandra’s. In the
meantime, Mildred combed through clues, looking for any trace of Penny Descoine’s whereabouts.
In the evenings, with Siobhán’s assistance, he took care of dinner, finished emptying the boxes from
Ireland, made a mad dash to the grocery store and to the dry cleaner and another to purchase the last
minute baby items Laura had listed out for him.
It was more responsibility than he’d borne in all his thirty-six years.
Without Laura’s input on a daily basis into the workings of the agency, he felt the weight of each decision
he made as if he were Atlas himself, balancing the world on his shoulders.
He’d complimented her any number of times about her ability both as a brilliant detective and as a deft
manager of the business. For certain, he’d admired any number of times the way she encouraged a staff
member to follow a hunch or gently led him or her down the proper road.
Stupidly, he’d compared himself to her and believed himself to be her equal in such matters. Oh, he had
the words, but her sure hands and unwavering confidence had been a steadying influence upon him.
Without them, the cold draft of uncertainty chilled his self-assurance. He despised second guessing his
own thinking.
In the meantime, Laura’s misery ate holes in him. She hadn’t mentioned the agency at all, nor asked
after any of their pending cases. In the evenings, she stirred from the bed only long enough to eat dinner,
play the piano for a half hour or so, and soak in the bath.
He planned to stay home Wednesday morning to keep her company--but as matters developed, both of
them would be needed in the agency that day.
12 November 2009
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Reckoning