Two Holts: I Steele Do
Laura rested her head on Remington’s shoulder. He tilted their seats back until they were
comfortable, closed his own eyes and tried to doze. The flight to Denver would be just two hours,
but it was a late one.
Even though it was only Thursday, the Steeles had already had a long week. After spending the
weekend settling into their penthouse, they both put in nearly fifteen hours at work each day getting
the agency back on track after their frequent absences. They’d also had a final meeting that went
late into the previous night with the architect about the new office plans. If all went well,
construction would begin over the weekend, and there would be something to see by the time they
returned to the office on Monday.
Remington had sketched out a new office design and security system for it. Laura liked the layout,
only requesting a couple of changes, and left the security entirely up to him. The confidence she
had in him was gratifying and a little unnerving. She hadn’t said a word about the features of the
small “file room” that fit between their new offices. After Major Descoine’s antics and the
nightmare last Christmas, he was determined to provide a safe room for his wife--one that would be
nearly impregnable from the outside. It would have its own phone system, electrical panel and air
conditioning unit, complete with special filters capable of cleaning most chemicals from the air.
Steel panels would line the studs and the door would be deceptively strong--capable of standing up
against all handguns and any number of automatic weapons. She said nothing of it, only pointing
out the need for a break room in their growing agency.
He hoped Ian Connelly would be able to cope with the office well enough for Laura to relax at her
sister’s wedding. The new secretary had been there for two weeks now and seemed to be
comfortable managing the variety of phone calls that came through. Friendly and professional
seemed to be the best description for Ian. Very little seemed to annoy him and he always had a
ready smile on his face. His coffee needed a little work though.
That was his last thought for a while as the plane winged its way into the heart of the Rocky
Mountains.
Laura sat up in her seat and stretched, rather glad that her husband had insisted on booking first
class seats. The flight attendant saw her movement and offered drinks. While Laura requested tea
for both of them instead, the young woman’s eyes lingered on the gorgeous man sleeping next to her
for a moment, but she maintained her professional demeanor and moved on with efficiency.
The detective smiled. She certainly couldn’t blame the other woman. Bernice had referred to him
as “eye-candy” more than once, and knowing her, probably in his hearing just so she could annoy
him. The former secretary had been smug when Laura showed up with Remington in tow for a
quick weekend in New York for the ceremony, and it had only taken moments before the two were
sparring as if the years between had never happened. Laura shook her head. That was when they
came home to find they were “dead.” So much had happened since then.
Perhaps sensing his wife’s movement, Remington opened his blue eyes and smiled when he saw she
was awake. He rubbed at his face for a minute, and then he sat up and straightened his shirt and tie
as the attendant returned with their tea. There was another brief glance and a pause before she
moved on to the next passenger.
“Does that ever bother you?” Laura wondered.
“What’s that?”
“Having women look at you all the time as if they want you for a snack?”
Remington grinned. “Should it?”
“No, I was just curious.”
“Not really. It’s flattering, but I can’t help the way I look. Do you mind when men think you’re a
tasty little morsel that needs to be devoured?”
“Only when it’s patently obvious they think I don’t have a brain.”
“Well, then, you understand. Give me a gorgeous brunette with dark cocoa eyes that sees me for
what I am and lusts after me anyway.”
“That I do, Mr. Steele.”
Ninety minutes later the Steeles were sound asleep in their hotel room after a brief call to reassure
Kate they had made it to Denver.
At eight-thirty in the morning, loud banging on their door woke them, and Laura staggered to the
door where her twin blew in with Murphy only a few steps behind. Remington was still in bed but
leaned up on an elbow at the interruption.
Kate and Laura shrieked as they hugged, to the men’s mutual winces. Remington shook his head.
His wife was normally quite reserved, but when it came to Kate, she had no inhibitions whatsoever.
“Morning, Steele.”
“Michaels.” Their truce was still very new, and the two men were a little unsure of how to act
without all the animosity that normally marked their exchanges.
The blonde shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry about the early morning--Hurricane Kate’s got an agenda a
mile long today.”
“Not a problem.” He knew how Laura could get when she was on a mission.
Kate dug in her tiny purse with her free hand and gave Laura an itinerary for the weekend. “Here’s
the schedule. We’re all staying here in the hotel. I have the suite and Murphy is sharing a room
with his frat brother--Steve Diametto--for now.
A schedule? Remington thought. He shot a glance at Murphy, who shrugged and shook his head,
saying, “Don’t ask. I’m just along for the ride.”
Kate continued, “We have breakfast with Mom in an hour and lunch with Murphy’s parents.
Tonight is the rehearsal dinner and afterward, we’ll go out for our stag parties.” She pinned
Remington with an icy look, which was rather impressive coming from warm brown eyes. “You are
in charge of making sure he’s not so plastered tomorrow that he is miserable and has a headache.
Do what you want, but keep the drinking reasonable.”
Remington gave her a comical salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Saturday, of course, is the wedding, so I’ll need all hands on deck starting at nine. Bridal pictures
at the church are at one and the wedding is at three, with pictures of everyone immediately
following. The reception is here and starts at six. And then on Sunday, I don’t care what you do
because Murphy and I will be on a cruise ship to the Caribbean. Grab your stuff and come get
ready in my suite. I'll fill you in on the rest of it.”
Laura shot Remington a helpless glance. He shrugged with a smile and waved her off. She barely
had time to give him a swift kiss and grab a robe and her bag before Kate dragged her out the door.
“Is she always like this?” Steele asked Murphy, with a healthy dose of humor in his voice. It was
completely rare to see Laura bowled over by anyone other than her mother.
“Not at all. Sometimes she’s worse. Laura calls her ‘Steamroller.’ What else would you expect of
a woman capable of organizing a wedding from half a world away?” Murphy retorted with a smile
before he collapsed into the lone chair in the room.
“And you’re volunteering to marry her?”
Murph shrugged and clicked on the television with the remote. “You picked Laura--stubborn,
neurotic to her toes, brilliant and passionate to the core.”
Remington raised his eyebrows and nodded. “True.” It was a good description.
“Take the first, third and fourth; add in rock solid confidence, and they all add up to Kate.”
“How did Kathleen get the confidence and Laura the neuroses?”
Murphy looked askance at him. “You really don’t know?” Steele raised a brow and shook his
head. “Go take your shower and I’ll tell you while you get your crap together. Kate will kick my
ass if we’re not at breakfast on time.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Yep. She’s heard too many stories about the great Remington Steele strolling in two hours after
the party starts, so I’m stuck babysitting you this morning. Besides, I’m not interested in
entertaining Abigail by myself.”
“In Europe, it’s called ‘being fashionably late.’ ”
“Yeah, well, call it whatever you want, but I’m marrying her tomorrow and have zero interest in
pissing her off today. My job is to follow orders and stay out of the way for the next thirty hours.”
They exchanged grins of understanding and Remington ducked into the shower. When he was out
and wearing a pair of slacks, he opened the door and quirked a brow. Murphy was staring at
ESPN. “Perhaps you can interrupt your reverie for a moment and continue our previous
conversation?”
With a snort, Murphy looked up, “Never can say it with three words when thirty will do, Steele?”
“Bugger off, Michaels.”
“Same to you, Steele.” But the blonde shifted around and frowned. “Frances was Abigail’s favorite
and Laura was entirely her father’s child. Kate muddled through by herself. From what I
understand, she learned to be fairly independent at an early age--and liked it that way. She tells me
stories of the competition in the house between Laura and Frances. The more Frances walked the
straight and narrow for Abigail, the wilder Laura got to impress her father. And when he left, Laura
fell completely apart. She became entirely dependent on Kate for the last two years of high school.”
“My best guess is that Laura was clinically depressed then. When Kate headed for Stanford, so did
Laura, but Katy’d had the sense to insist they not live together. I think she was a little desperate to
have some kind of normal life away from her family. Whatever it was, it worked. Laura buried
herself in coursework and graduated in a little over three years. Kate was a semester or so behind
her and deliberately took a master’s project in Peru to give them even more space.”
Murphy hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “It was the best thing that could have happened
for both of them. Laura had gained a lot of confidence by the time she started at Havenhurst. You
didn’t know her then, but I did. She was--and still is--extraordinarily brilliant. You could see
flashes of that wild child coming out, especially when she went under cover. She wasn’t afraid of
anything.”
Remington had been shaving during the recitation and dried his face with a towel. “What
happened?” He was sure he knew the answer already.
“Wilson. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Laura fell hard for him. He was stable, boring
and an absolute wimp, but she was convinced he was exactly what she needed. In some ways, I
pitied him at first because he had no hope of keeping up with her. But instead of letting her go, he
fucked with her head, telling her she was too passionate and daring--that she needed to settle down
and be more respectable, more responsible. He wanted to chip away at the best parts of her and
make her fit into his tiny little corner of the world. I was glad when he left, but he couldn’t have
picked a worse way to do it to her. I still occasionally get the urge to beat the living hell out of him.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Laura, in those ever so polite tones of hers, asked me not to. She blamed herself for the whole
debacle. And quite frankly, I was too busy keeping an eye on her to go chase down his scrawny
little butt.” Sighing, he went on, “Kate had warned me about Laura's depression, so I watched out
for her, listened a lot and did my best to let her work through it. She had to fight for it, but she
pulled herself up by her bootstraps and kept it together. Let me tell you, it was something a little
creepy to watch. Nearly overnight Laura transformed into the woman you first met--still brilliant,
scared of nothing except her own feelings, and so tightly controlled you could bounce a quarter off
her bed sheets. The few men she dated after that didn’t have a chance.”
“No wonder I scared the hell out of her,” Remington murmured.
“Pretty much, Steele.”
“It does explain why you are so protective of her.”
“Yeah.”
“I may yet learn to like you, Michaels.” Remington gave his tie one last tug and squared himself.
He held out his hand. “I think I might have to spot you one on this.”
Murphy took it. “Just deal with their mother today and we’ll call it even.”
“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Humphrey
Bogart to Claude Raines, Casablanca, Warner Bros., 1942.”
“Don’t push it, Steele. You were on a roll.”
Breakfast was pure Abigail. She spent the hour scolding her girls for various shortcomings, which
weren’t really deficiencies at all but merely misunderstandings of her daughters’ characters. At one
point all three sisters were fuming, and Donald crossed his arms, shooting a dark look at both
Murphy and Remington--reminding them of their previous conversation two Sundays ago.
Heaving a sigh, Steele turned to Abigail and began quizzing her on the preparations she was making
for their own reception, deflecting her admonishments about the way Katy had planned everything.
Laura shot him a grateful smile and slid her hand into his under the table.
Lunch with Murphy’s parents went much better. Married for nearly forty years, they were casual
and comfortable, much like their son. His much younger sister, Jena, at only twenty-one, was in her
third year at the University of Colorado in Boulder. Bright, with the same sandy blonde hair as her
brother, she had a wicked sense of humor and got along just fine with Kate.
The dinner that night was terrific. Murphy and Kate had kept the wedding party to mostly family
and a very close couple of friends. The intimate evening was full of laughter, funny and warm
toasts to the couple and lots of well-meaning and frank advice for their coming wedding night.
Afterward, Donald rounded up the men--and Laura the women--and each group disappeared into
the night. The boys headed for an upscale strip bar and proceeded to spend the next several hours
getting Murphy intoxicated. For the most part they kept him out of any compromising positions, but
they had great fun bribing the girls. Murphy blanched a little whiter and drank a little more each
time another scantily-clad curvaceous brunette approached and introduced herself as “Kate.”
Remington did find out that night exactly how the two met. In an alcoholic daze, his soon-to-be-
brother-in-law recounted that he had a crush on Laura when she began working at the Havenhurst
Detective Agency. When he entered her office one Monday morning and found her dressed in a
pair of khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, with her field boots propped up on the desk, he couldn’t help
staring. Only this time, she gave him a thorough perusal and met his gaze straight on. He had
rounded the desk and muttered apologies while pulling her to her feet for a lusty kiss. A kiss she
didn’t resist in the slightest.
While they were locking lips, Laura had appeared in the doorway and sharply called both their
names. Murphy smiled in memory as he remembered looking first at Kate, then at Laura, and back
at Kate, who had a wide grin on her face. “Twins. Well, I almost had it right the first time. But I
definitely have it the second.”
Kate had laughed and tucked her arm through his. “You must be Murphy. Why don’t you take me
to lunch?”
Steele asked about Sherry, the last woman he remembered Murphy dating before he left the
agency. The blonde man drank deeply of his scotch and said, “Sherry was incredible. She was the
one who told me that Kate was worth the wait. If you’ll remember, she was a psychologist and had
me figured cold after a week. We’re still friends. She married at cop, of all people, a couple of
years ago, and they're expecting their first any day now.”
“So how did you two make it all these years?”
“Long letters, the occasional phone call, and visits whenever possible. She got home two or three
times a year, and I went to see her at least once a year. We did, unlike you and Laura who saw
each other nearly every day, spend a great deal of time in bed.” He gave Steele a knowing smirk.
“I’d suggest something about quality over quantity,” Remington retorted with a grin, “but then I’ll
acknowledge that there’s never too much quantity in this category. But the quality is sure to be
better, regardless.”
Murphy rolled his eyes and elbowed Donald. “Does this fall under the terms of the truce?”
Donald sipped his beer and answered, “We’re at a strip bar for your bachelor party, Murph. All
bets are off. Besides, I think you owe him a couple of cheap shots right now. Wasn’t Kate wearing
red?” Remington saluted Donald with his glass while the groom swore and turned his back on them
in favor of discussing the results of the NFL draft with his fraternity brother.
The three Holt sisters, Jena and two of Kate’s friends from college all found themselves wedged into
a single booth at a little bar not too far from the hotel. A very loud, slightly off-key band played in
the corner, and the slightly scruffy waiter flirted with Jena as he served the bride and her friends.
Laura appointed herself the designated driver and had fun watching her twin down a number of
drinks with astonishingly inappropriate names. The sisters had had their own private reunion nearly
two weeks ago, so tonight was all about enjoying each other’s company and having fun with new
friends. Oh, and watching the normally-oh-so-controlled-Kate get absolutely plastered for the
second time in two weeks.
After her fourth sex-on-the-beach-orgasm-in-a-glass or whatever she was drinking, Kate put her
head on the table amid the phallic balloons and equally inappropriate pieces of chocolate Jena had
discovered in a novelty shop.
“No more. I have to be sober tomorrow.” Her tiara slipped sideways and the strip of condoms she
wore as a sash teetered on the edge of her shoulder. She blearily looked at Laura. “Why am I
marrying him?”
“Somebody has to.”
“Oh, yeah. And he’s hot too. Yummy kisses. Broad shoulders. Really nice ass. And he
understands football. I miss football. There’s no football in Thailand. Did you know Murphy used
to play football? As a tight end. He has a very nice tight end.” While Laura pulled her still-babbling
twin out of the booth, Jena shoved and Frances was there to catch as she nearly sat on the floor.
“Come on, Steamroller. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Lunatic. You know, I gotta find more of that red stuff tha’ Rem’ton got you. Murph
kind of liked it. Think we can get some?” Laura and Frances supported her as she staggered out of
the bar and collapsed into Jena’s little car.
“I imagine we can work something out.”
They sent her off to bed. Laura happily crawled between her own sheets and was asleep in
moments. An hour later, Remington found her sprawled out in the middle after he and Donald
dumped Murphy on the extra bed in Steve’s room. They had stuck him in a cold shower long
enough to partially sober him up before abandoning him to his friend. The streak of blue curses still
echoed in the hallways.
Today had certainly been enlightening for him, not only of his wife’s psyche, but of the whole
American wedding tradition. He realized just how much Laura had missed and felt no small amount
of guilt over it. She deserved so much more than what he’d given her. In fact, the more he thought
of it, the more he realized that there had been very little romance involved in the whole process.
From the tuna boat to her proposal, and his subsequent descent into his own private little drunken
spree, to the civil wedding ceremony, there wasn’t much tenderness on his part outside of the
bedroom.
He hadn’t given a single thought to her family and how they might have wanted to participate, or if
Laura even wanted them involved. He hoped that perhaps the reception Abigail was planning would
alleviate some of his guilt, but it would never make up for not having a proper wedding in the first
place, nor for the fact that he hadn't given her a real proposal.
That was his last thought before he tumbled into bed next to his wife.
The phone rang at eight sharp in the morning. Laura fumbled for it, dropped it, and had to search,
half-hanging off the bed, for the receiver. She was still upside-down and had one hand on the floor
when she put it to her ear. “ ‘Lo?”
“Laura? Wake up. It’s my wedding day!”
“It is? Really?” Remington reached for her waist and hauled her back on the bed. Lying this
closely to her, he could hear Kate as well. He started kissing his wife’s freckles.
“Laura! I’m bouncing off the walls. When are you going to get here?”
Laura looked at the clock and was quiet for a moment. “Forty-five minutes.”
“Thirty.”
“Nope. I get twenty with Mr. Steele, fifteen for the shower and ten to get my stuff and get over
there.”
“Thirty and you take your shower over here.”
“Forty-five and you cope for the extra fifteen. Love you, sis. Bye.” Laura hung the phone up and
disconnected the cord.
Remington smiled. It was the first time he’d heard her stand up to her sister. “Just twenty
minutes?”
She rolled over to face him. “I know we haven’t had much time this week. I like waking up with
you in the mornings and I got cheated out of it entirely yesterday.”
“Then, Mrs. Steele, it appears we have to make up for it today.”
The wedding day was fun. The bride wore a red silk Thai wedding dress that hugged her small
frame with a sash thrown over one shoulder, leaving the other completely bare. Heavy gold
embroidery danced across the hemline, around the wide belt at her waist and over the sash. The
attendants--Laura, Frances and Jena--wore simple columns of gold and carried a single red rose.
Murphy was dressed in black with a red vest and matching embroidery. Steve, Donald and
Remington stood up for him. The last had come as a surprise to the Steeles, but Kate had insisted
on his inclusion from the moment she’d heard her sister had wed in Ireland.
Vows were said and kisses exchanged before hundreds of pictures were taken, and then the whole
wedding party caravanned from the church to the reception by limousine, courtesy of Remington
Steele Investigations. More toasts were made at the reception, followed by dances by the happy
newlyweds. It seemed like hours had passed before Remington finally got his arms around Laura
once more.
She bubbled with joy and was light on her feet while they danced. He couldn’t help kissing her on
the dance floor. Ever sensitive to his moods, she crinkled her forehead.
“What’s wrong?”
He thought about prevaricating, but decided she’d see through that right away. “I think I want to
apologize.”
“For what?”
“Because I didn’t give you the chance to have this.” He waved a hand around the ballroom.
“A wedding? I think I had two, maybe.”
“No, not that. The whole thing. The family, the parties, the proposal. I didn’t give you any of it at
all.”
She cocked her head and smiled. “Want to make it up to me?”
“Of course.”
“There’s only one thing I wish I could have.”
“A proposal?”
“I think it’s a little late for that, besides, you got one. Although come to think of it, I never got an
answer. No, what I want is a picture.”
“A picture? Of what?”
“Of us. On our wedding day. I want you to draw me a picture of our wedding. And I want to
hang it with your other sketches on our wall in our bedroom so I can look at it and remember that it
was a perfect day.”
He pulled her a little closer. “You think our wedding day was perfect?” Joy replaced guilt and
wound its way through his heart.
“I do.”
“Without all this?”
“I’m sure we’ll get plenty of it at Mother’s reception. She can have her day. I’ve had mine.”
Swiftly, Remington pulled her into a tight hug on the dance floor. “I love you, Laura Steele.”
She tilted her head back and let her brown eyes shine on him. “I love you, Remington Steele.”
* * * * *
It took him nearly the rest of the spring season, working late at night after Laura had gone to bed or
on weekends while she was occupied. It wasn’t easy hiding it from her. But in the end, he created
a sixteen by twenty portrait of Laura, exquisite in her ivory dress with Irish lace at the wrist and
hem, and himself, wearing his black tuxedo and ivory cravat. He caught forever the moment they
held hands and their lips touched after saying the vows that would bind them for a lifetime.
At the bottom he signed it “Steele 2-Jun-86” and inscribed the title next to his signature. He named
the portrait “Yes.”
16 March 2009
Laura rested her head on Remington’s shoulder. He tilted their seats back until they were
comfortable, closed his own eyes and tried to doze. The flight to Denver would be just two hours,
but it was a late one.
Even though it was only Thursday, the Steeles had already had a long week. After spending the
weekend settling into their penthouse, they both put in nearly fifteen hours at work each day getting
the agency back on track after their frequent absences. They’d also had a final meeting that went
late into the previous night with the architect about the new office plans. If all went well,
construction would begin over the weekend, and there would be something to see by the time they
returned to the office on Monday.
Remington had sketched out a new office design and security system for it. Laura liked the layout,
only requesting a couple of changes, and left the security entirely up to him. The confidence she
had in him was gratifying and a little unnerving. She hadn’t said a word about the features of the
small “file room” that fit between their new offices. After Major Descoine’s antics and the
nightmare last Christmas, he was determined to provide a safe room for his wife--one that would be
nearly impregnable from the outside. It would have its own phone system, electrical panel and air
conditioning unit, complete with special filters capable of cleaning most chemicals from the air.
Steel panels would line the studs and the door would be deceptively strong--capable of standing up
against all handguns and any number of automatic weapons. She said nothing of it, only pointing
out the need for a break room in their growing agency.
He hoped Ian Connelly would be able to cope with the office well enough for Laura to relax at her
sister’s wedding. The new secretary had been there for two weeks now and seemed to be
comfortable managing the variety of phone calls that came through. Friendly and professional
seemed to be the best description for Ian. Very little seemed to annoy him and he always had a
ready smile on his face. His coffee needed a little work though.
That was his last thought for a while as the plane winged its way into the heart of the Rocky
Mountains.
Laura sat up in her seat and stretched, rather glad that her husband had insisted on booking first
class seats. The flight attendant saw her movement and offered drinks. While Laura requested tea
for both of them instead, the young woman’s eyes lingered on the gorgeous man sleeping next to her
for a moment, but she maintained her professional demeanor and moved on with efficiency.
The detective smiled. She certainly couldn’t blame the other woman. Bernice had referred to him
as “eye-candy” more than once, and knowing her, probably in his hearing just so she could annoy
him. The former secretary had been smug when Laura showed up with Remington in tow for a
quick weekend in New York for the ceremony, and it had only taken moments before the two were
sparring as if the years between had never happened. Laura shook her head. That was when they
came home to find they were “dead.” So much had happened since then.
Perhaps sensing his wife’s movement, Remington opened his blue eyes and smiled when he saw she
was awake. He rubbed at his face for a minute, and then he sat up and straightened his shirt and tie
as the attendant returned with their tea. There was another brief glance and a pause before she
moved on to the next passenger.
“Does that ever bother you?” Laura wondered.
“What’s that?”
“Having women look at you all the time as if they want you for a snack?”
Remington grinned. “Should it?”
“No, I was just curious.”
“Not really. It’s flattering, but I can’t help the way I look. Do you mind when men think you’re a
tasty little morsel that needs to be devoured?”
“Only when it’s patently obvious they think I don’t have a brain.”
“Well, then, you understand. Give me a gorgeous brunette with dark cocoa eyes that sees me for
what I am and lusts after me anyway.”
“That I do, Mr. Steele.”
Ninety minutes later the Steeles were sound asleep in their hotel room after a brief call to reassure
Kate they had made it to Denver.
At eight-thirty in the morning, loud banging on their door woke them, and Laura staggered to the
door where her twin blew in with Murphy only a few steps behind. Remington was still in bed but
leaned up on an elbow at the interruption.
Kate and Laura shrieked as they hugged, to the men’s mutual winces. Remington shook his head.
His wife was normally quite reserved, but when it came to Kate, she had no inhibitions whatsoever.
“Morning, Steele.”
“Michaels.” Their truce was still very new, and the two men were a little unsure of how to act
without all the animosity that normally marked their exchanges.
The blonde shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry about the early morning--Hurricane Kate’s got an agenda a
mile long today.”
“Not a problem.” He knew how Laura could get when she was on a mission.
Kate dug in her tiny purse with her free hand and gave Laura an itinerary for the weekend. “Here’s
the schedule. We’re all staying here in the hotel. I have the suite and Murphy is sharing a room
with his frat brother--Steve Diametto--for now.
A schedule? Remington thought. He shot a glance at Murphy, who shrugged and shook his head,
saying, “Don’t ask. I’m just along for the ride.”
Kate continued, “We have breakfast with Mom in an hour and lunch with Murphy’s parents.
Tonight is the rehearsal dinner and afterward, we’ll go out for our stag parties.” She pinned
Remington with an icy look, which was rather impressive coming from warm brown eyes. “You are
in charge of making sure he’s not so plastered tomorrow that he is miserable and has a headache.
Do what you want, but keep the drinking reasonable.”
Remington gave her a comical salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Saturday, of course, is the wedding, so I’ll need all hands on deck starting at nine. Bridal pictures
at the church are at one and the wedding is at three, with pictures of everyone immediately
following. The reception is here and starts at six. And then on Sunday, I don’t care what you do
because Murphy and I will be on a cruise ship to the Caribbean. Grab your stuff and come get
ready in my suite. I'll fill you in on the rest of it.”
Laura shot Remington a helpless glance. He shrugged with a smile and waved her off. She barely
had time to give him a swift kiss and grab a robe and her bag before Kate dragged her out the door.
“Is she always like this?” Steele asked Murphy, with a healthy dose of humor in his voice. It was
completely rare to see Laura bowled over by anyone other than her mother.
“Not at all. Sometimes she’s worse. Laura calls her ‘Steamroller.’ What else would you expect of
a woman capable of organizing a wedding from half a world away?” Murphy retorted with a smile
before he collapsed into the lone chair in the room.
“And you’re volunteering to marry her?”
Murph shrugged and clicked on the television with the remote. “You picked Laura--stubborn,
neurotic to her toes, brilliant and passionate to the core.”
Remington raised his eyebrows and nodded. “True.” It was a good description.
“Take the first, third and fourth; add in rock solid confidence, and they all add up to Kate.”
“How did Kathleen get the confidence and Laura the neuroses?”
Murphy looked askance at him. “You really don’t know?” Steele raised a brow and shook his
head. “Go take your shower and I’ll tell you while you get your crap together. Kate will kick my
ass if we’re not at breakfast on time.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Yep. She’s heard too many stories about the great Remington Steele strolling in two hours after
the party starts, so I’m stuck babysitting you this morning. Besides, I’m not interested in
entertaining Abigail by myself.”
“In Europe, it’s called ‘being fashionably late.’ ”
“Yeah, well, call it whatever you want, but I’m marrying her tomorrow and have zero interest in
pissing her off today. My job is to follow orders and stay out of the way for the next thirty hours.”
They exchanged grins of understanding and Remington ducked into the shower. When he was out
and wearing a pair of slacks, he opened the door and quirked a brow. Murphy was staring at
ESPN. “Perhaps you can interrupt your reverie for a moment and continue our previous
conversation?”
With a snort, Murphy looked up, “Never can say it with three words when thirty will do, Steele?”
“Bugger off, Michaels.”
“Same to you, Steele.” But the blonde shifted around and frowned. “Frances was Abigail’s favorite
and Laura was entirely her father’s child. Kate muddled through by herself. From what I
understand, she learned to be fairly independent at an early age--and liked it that way. She tells me
stories of the competition in the house between Laura and Frances. The more Frances walked the
straight and narrow for Abigail, the wilder Laura got to impress her father. And when he left, Laura
fell completely apart. She became entirely dependent on Kate for the last two years of high school.”
“My best guess is that Laura was clinically depressed then. When Kate headed for Stanford, so did
Laura, but Katy’d had the sense to insist they not live together. I think she was a little desperate to
have some kind of normal life away from her family. Whatever it was, it worked. Laura buried
herself in coursework and graduated in a little over three years. Kate was a semester or so behind
her and deliberately took a master’s project in Peru to give them even more space.”
Murphy hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “It was the best thing that could have happened
for both of them. Laura had gained a lot of confidence by the time she started at Havenhurst. You
didn’t know her then, but I did. She was--and still is--extraordinarily brilliant. You could see
flashes of that wild child coming out, especially when she went under cover. She wasn’t afraid of
anything.”
Remington had been shaving during the recitation and dried his face with a towel. “What
happened?” He was sure he knew the answer already.
“Wilson. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Laura fell hard for him. He was stable, boring
and an absolute wimp, but she was convinced he was exactly what she needed. In some ways, I
pitied him at first because he had no hope of keeping up with her. But instead of letting her go, he
fucked with her head, telling her she was too passionate and daring--that she needed to settle down
and be more respectable, more responsible. He wanted to chip away at the best parts of her and
make her fit into his tiny little corner of the world. I was glad when he left, but he couldn’t have
picked a worse way to do it to her. I still occasionally get the urge to beat the living hell out of him.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Laura, in those ever so polite tones of hers, asked me not to. She blamed herself for the whole
debacle. And quite frankly, I was too busy keeping an eye on her to go chase down his scrawny
little butt.” Sighing, he went on, “Kate had warned me about Laura's depression, so I watched out
for her, listened a lot and did my best to let her work through it. She had to fight for it, but she
pulled herself up by her bootstraps and kept it together. Let me tell you, it was something a little
creepy to watch. Nearly overnight Laura transformed into the woman you first met--still brilliant,
scared of nothing except her own feelings, and so tightly controlled you could bounce a quarter off
her bed sheets. The few men she dated after that didn’t have a chance.”
“No wonder I scared the hell out of her,” Remington murmured.
“Pretty much, Steele.”
“It does explain why you are so protective of her.”
“Yeah.”
“I may yet learn to like you, Michaels.” Remington gave his tie one last tug and squared himself.
He held out his hand. “I think I might have to spot you one on this.”
Murphy took it. “Just deal with their mother today and we’ll call it even.”
“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Humphrey
Bogart to Claude Raines, Casablanca, Warner Bros., 1942.”
“Don’t push it, Steele. You were on a roll.”
Breakfast was pure Abigail. She spent the hour scolding her girls for various shortcomings, which
weren’t really deficiencies at all but merely misunderstandings of her daughters’ characters. At one
point all three sisters were fuming, and Donald crossed his arms, shooting a dark look at both
Murphy and Remington--reminding them of their previous conversation two Sundays ago.
Heaving a sigh, Steele turned to Abigail and began quizzing her on the preparations she was making
for their own reception, deflecting her admonishments about the way Katy had planned everything.
Laura shot him a grateful smile and slid her hand into his under the table.
Lunch with Murphy’s parents went much better. Married for nearly forty years, they were casual
and comfortable, much like their son. His much younger sister, Jena, at only twenty-one, was in her
third year at the University of Colorado in Boulder. Bright, with the same sandy blonde hair as her
brother, she had a wicked sense of humor and got along just fine with Kate.
The dinner that night was terrific. Murphy and Kate had kept the wedding party to mostly family
and a very close couple of friends. The intimate evening was full of laughter, funny and warm
toasts to the couple and lots of well-meaning and frank advice for their coming wedding night.
Afterward, Donald rounded up the men--and Laura the women--and each group disappeared into
the night. The boys headed for an upscale strip bar and proceeded to spend the next several hours
getting Murphy intoxicated. For the most part they kept him out of any compromising positions, but
they had great fun bribing the girls. Murphy blanched a little whiter and drank a little more each
time another scantily-clad curvaceous brunette approached and introduced herself as “Kate.”
Remington did find out that night exactly how the two met. In an alcoholic daze, his soon-to-be-
brother-in-law recounted that he had a crush on Laura when she began working at the Havenhurst
Detective Agency. When he entered her office one Monday morning and found her dressed in a
pair of khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, with her field boots propped up on the desk, he couldn’t help
staring. Only this time, she gave him a thorough perusal and met his gaze straight on. He had
rounded the desk and muttered apologies while pulling her to her feet for a lusty kiss. A kiss she
didn’t resist in the slightest.
While they were locking lips, Laura had appeared in the doorway and sharply called both their
names. Murphy smiled in memory as he remembered looking first at Kate, then at Laura, and back
at Kate, who had a wide grin on her face. “Twins. Well, I almost had it right the first time. But I
definitely have it the second.”
Kate had laughed and tucked her arm through his. “You must be Murphy. Why don’t you take me
to lunch?”
Steele asked about Sherry, the last woman he remembered Murphy dating before he left the
agency. The blonde man drank deeply of his scotch and said, “Sherry was incredible. She was the
one who told me that Kate was worth the wait. If you’ll remember, she was a psychologist and had
me figured cold after a week. We’re still friends. She married at cop, of all people, a couple of
years ago, and they're expecting their first any day now.”
“So how did you two make it all these years?”
“Long letters, the occasional phone call, and visits whenever possible. She got home two or three
times a year, and I went to see her at least once a year. We did, unlike you and Laura who saw
each other nearly every day, spend a great deal of time in bed.” He gave Steele a knowing smirk.
“I’d suggest something about quality over quantity,” Remington retorted with a grin, “but then I’ll
acknowledge that there’s never too much quantity in this category. But the quality is sure to be
better, regardless.”
Murphy rolled his eyes and elbowed Donald. “Does this fall under the terms of the truce?”
Donald sipped his beer and answered, “We’re at a strip bar for your bachelor party, Murph. All
bets are off. Besides, I think you owe him a couple of cheap shots right now. Wasn’t Kate wearing
red?” Remington saluted Donald with his glass while the groom swore and turned his back on them
in favor of discussing the results of the NFL draft with his fraternity brother.
The three Holt sisters, Jena and two of Kate’s friends from college all found themselves wedged into
a single booth at a little bar not too far from the hotel. A very loud, slightly off-key band played in
the corner, and the slightly scruffy waiter flirted with Jena as he served the bride and her friends.
Laura appointed herself the designated driver and had fun watching her twin down a number of
drinks with astonishingly inappropriate names. The sisters had had their own private reunion nearly
two weeks ago, so tonight was all about enjoying each other’s company and having fun with new
friends. Oh, and watching the normally-oh-so-controlled-Kate get absolutely plastered for the
second time in two weeks.
After her fourth sex-on-the-beach-orgasm-in-a-glass or whatever she was drinking, Kate put her
head on the table amid the phallic balloons and equally inappropriate pieces of chocolate Jena had
discovered in a novelty shop.
“No more. I have to be sober tomorrow.” Her tiara slipped sideways and the strip of condoms she
wore as a sash teetered on the edge of her shoulder. She blearily looked at Laura. “Why am I
marrying him?”
“Somebody has to.”
“Oh, yeah. And he’s hot too. Yummy kisses. Broad shoulders. Really nice ass. And he
understands football. I miss football. There’s no football in Thailand. Did you know Murphy used
to play football? As a tight end. He has a very nice tight end.” While Laura pulled her still-babbling
twin out of the booth, Jena shoved and Frances was there to catch as she nearly sat on the floor.
“Come on, Steamroller. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Lunatic. You know, I gotta find more of that red stuff tha’ Rem’ton got you. Murph
kind of liked it. Think we can get some?” Laura and Frances supported her as she staggered out of
the bar and collapsed into Jena’s little car.
“I imagine we can work something out.”
They sent her off to bed. Laura happily crawled between her own sheets and was asleep in
moments. An hour later, Remington found her sprawled out in the middle after he and Donald
dumped Murphy on the extra bed in Steve’s room. They had stuck him in a cold shower long
enough to partially sober him up before abandoning him to his friend. The streak of blue curses still
echoed in the hallways.
Today had certainly been enlightening for him, not only of his wife’s psyche, but of the whole
American wedding tradition. He realized just how much Laura had missed and felt no small amount
of guilt over it. She deserved so much more than what he’d given her. In fact, the more he thought
of it, the more he realized that there had been very little romance involved in the whole process.
From the tuna boat to her proposal, and his subsequent descent into his own private little drunken
spree, to the civil wedding ceremony, there wasn’t much tenderness on his part outside of the
bedroom.
He hadn’t given a single thought to her family and how they might have wanted to participate, or if
Laura even wanted them involved. He hoped that perhaps the reception Abigail was planning would
alleviate some of his guilt, but it would never make up for not having a proper wedding in the first
place, nor for the fact that he hadn't given her a real proposal.
That was his last thought before he tumbled into bed next to his wife.
The phone rang at eight sharp in the morning. Laura fumbled for it, dropped it, and had to search,
half-hanging off the bed, for the receiver. She was still upside-down and had one hand on the floor
when she put it to her ear. “ ‘Lo?”
“Laura? Wake up. It’s my wedding day!”
“It is? Really?” Remington reached for her waist and hauled her back on the bed. Lying this
closely to her, he could hear Kate as well. He started kissing his wife’s freckles.
“Laura! I’m bouncing off the walls. When are you going to get here?”
Laura looked at the clock and was quiet for a moment. “Forty-five minutes.”
“Thirty.”
“Nope. I get twenty with Mr. Steele, fifteen for the shower and ten to get my stuff and get over
there.”
“Thirty and you take your shower over here.”
“Forty-five and you cope for the extra fifteen. Love you, sis. Bye.” Laura hung the phone up and
disconnected the cord.
Remington smiled. It was the first time he’d heard her stand up to her sister. “Just twenty
minutes?”
She rolled over to face him. “I know we haven’t had much time this week. I like waking up with
you in the mornings and I got cheated out of it entirely yesterday.”
“Then, Mrs. Steele, it appears we have to make up for it today.”
The wedding day was fun. The bride wore a red silk Thai wedding dress that hugged her small
frame with a sash thrown over one shoulder, leaving the other completely bare. Heavy gold
embroidery danced across the hemline, around the wide belt at her waist and over the sash. The
attendants--Laura, Frances and Jena--wore simple columns of gold and carried a single red rose.
Murphy was dressed in black with a red vest and matching embroidery. Steve, Donald and
Remington stood up for him. The last had come as a surprise to the Steeles, but Kate had insisted
on his inclusion from the moment she’d heard her sister had wed in Ireland.
Vows were said and kisses exchanged before hundreds of pictures were taken, and then the whole
wedding party caravanned from the church to the reception by limousine, courtesy of Remington
Steele Investigations. More toasts were made at the reception, followed by dances by the happy
newlyweds. It seemed like hours had passed before Remington finally got his arms around Laura
once more.
She bubbled with joy and was light on her feet while they danced. He couldn’t help kissing her on
the dance floor. Ever sensitive to his moods, she crinkled her forehead.
“What’s wrong?”
He thought about prevaricating, but decided she’d see through that right away. “I think I want to
apologize.”
“For what?”
“Because I didn’t give you the chance to have this.” He waved a hand around the ballroom.
“A wedding? I think I had two, maybe.”
“No, not that. The whole thing. The family, the parties, the proposal. I didn’t give you any of it at
all.”
She cocked her head and smiled. “Want to make it up to me?”
“Of course.”
“There’s only one thing I wish I could have.”
“A proposal?”
“I think it’s a little late for that, besides, you got one. Although come to think of it, I never got an
answer. No, what I want is a picture.”
“A picture? Of what?”
“Of us. On our wedding day. I want you to draw me a picture of our wedding. And I want to
hang it with your other sketches on our wall in our bedroom so I can look at it and remember that it
was a perfect day.”
He pulled her a little closer. “You think our wedding day was perfect?” Joy replaced guilt and
wound its way through his heart.
“I do.”
“Without all this?”
“I’m sure we’ll get plenty of it at Mother’s reception. She can have her day. I’ve had mine.”
Swiftly, Remington pulled her into a tight hug on the dance floor. “I love you, Laura Steele.”
She tilted her head back and let her brown eyes shine on him. “I love you, Remington Steele.”
* * * * *
It took him nearly the rest of the spring season, working late at night after Laura had gone to bed or
on weekends while she was occupied. It wasn’t easy hiding it from her. But in the end, he created
a sixteen by twenty portrait of Laura, exquisite in her ivory dress with Irish lace at the wrist and
hem, and himself, wearing his black tuxedo and ivory cravat. He caught forever the moment they
held hands and their lips touched after saying the vows that would bind them for a lifetime.
At the bottom he signed it “Steele 2-Jun-86” and inscribed the title next to his signature. He named
the portrait “Yes.”
16 March 2009
Steele Holting On
Steele Holting On
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