MONDAY

When Azura first awoke, she didn't recognize her surroundings. By the time she realized that she was in her room at the Collinsport Inn, the events of the previous day came flooding back to her -- the realization that Rodney had been having an affair, her flight to Bangor, the drive to Collinsport, her interview with Lana Thorne and Colin Chance, her reunion with her father. . .

{Interview?!? I really did it! I just went in there cold and got the job!} The momentary elation she felt at this triumph was quelled by a feeling of uncertainty. {I got the job. Do I want it?}

She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and headed for the shower.

* * * * *

Devin knocked on the door of the cottage. When Chris answered the door, he gave the younger man an affectionate hug. "Hey, Devin! I haven't seen you in ages! Unfortunately, Sabrina and the kids aren't here. . . ."

"That's OK," Devin responded, a deadly-serious expression on his face. "I actually came to see you, specifically."

"OK," Chris responded. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, Beth and I had a long talk this weekend . . . ." he stopped, uncertain what to say next.

"About the curse, right? She told me that she was going to talk to you about it."

"Umm. . . . Yeah."

Chris smiled ruefully at Devin. "You want to come in so we can talk about it?"

He held the door open wider, and Devin walked into the house. The two men sat a comfortable distance apart on the couch.

"I don't know where to start . . ." Devin began.

"How about if I start by telling you how I got this way?" Chris suggested.

"You inherited it from your mother's side of the family. Beth told me."

"I should have known that Beth would be thorough," Chris responded with a smile.

"What's it like?"

"The transformation?" Chris paused to gather his thoughts. "Painful." Then he amended this assessment. "It really is hard to describe. Imagine what it would be like to be in incredible pain. So much pain that you lose consciousness. The next day, your clothes are torn, and you have someone else's blood on you."

Devin shuddered. "I don't know how you can go on."

"Thanks. You're a real comfort."

"You know what I mean. What is it that keeps you going?"

Chris picked up a photo of his family and looked at it fondly. "This. Without Sabrina and the kids, I'd have put a bullet in my head a long time ago. A silver bullet, that is. No other kind will do. Of course, that is one of the benefits of being a werewolf. Things that would kill anyone else won't affect me at all."

"So, you're going to live forever?"

Chris chuckled. "I certainly hope not. No, since I seem to be aging normally, I hope to die of old age someday, as long as I can continue to evade lunatics with silver bullets."

* * * * *

After breakfast, Azura decided to take a walk to clear her head and help her make a decision regarding the governess position. She started out walking down toward the wharf, but seemingly of their own accord, her feet veered to the north.

Not even thinking about where she was headed, she walked until she was standing across the street from the lighthouse. There, nestled at its base, was the house where Colin Chance lived with his daughter and governess.

She stood there for a long time, staring at that house, trying to think of it as home, then trying *not* to think of it as home, until she finally decided that, strangely enough, she was much more comfortable with the idea of this unusual house being her home, than of it not being her home.

As she resolutely strode to the door to tell Lana that she would accept the position, she noticed a movement at one of the windows of the third floor, as if one of the drapes was settling back into place.

* * * * *

Barnabas walked up behind his wife and kissed her on the neck.

"Mmmm," she said, closing her eyes. "All, right, Barnabas, what do you want?"

"I never could put anything over on you," he smiled fondly at his wife. "I was wondering if I could drive you to your meeting today . . . ."

"Mmm-hmmm?" she asked, inviting him to finish his thought.

"So I have the car. To go into Fort Worth today."

"Why do you want to go to Fort Worth?"

"Well, there's a branch of the National Archives there, and I thought I'd take this week to . . . ."

Nodding her head, Julia finished the sentence for him, " . . . look for evidence that Sarah didn't die in 1797." She smiled at him, "of course you can have the car today. Just as long as you remember that I need the car on Friday, because the afternoon half of the symposium is going to be held in Irving on Friday."

Barnabas gave his wife a resounding kiss. "Thank you, Julia! Yes, I promise. You may have the car on Friday."

FRIDAY

Rosario was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of the phone ringing. She had been dreaming of her 'second childhood' - literally. Her dream had consisted of memories of her childhood as Angelique Bouchard on Martinique.

She stuffed a pillow over her head, and tried to ignore the phone. After what seemed like an eternity, the answering machine picked up. "Hi! You've reached 555-7673. Please leave a message after the tone and I'll get right back to you," she heard her own, excessively chirpy, voice say.

Emilio's voice came through the speaker on the answering machine. "Rosie? You there?"

Rosario stumbled from her bed across the narrow studio apartment and picked up the phone. "'Llo? 'Mmelio?" she mumbled.

"You are there. Good. Well, it looks like you aren't going to be able to visit me after all."

Rosario groaned. She knew what this meant. "You got called in?"

"Yep. Sorry kiddo. That's one of the hazards of being the newest doctor on staff. You always get called in to work at the last minute."

"Well, that's OK. I'll still come in. I've been wanting to visit my painting."

Emilio chuckled. "Rosie, once I'm a rich plastic surgeon, I'll *buy* that painting for you, so you won't have to keep traveling to Dallas to visit it."

Rosario smiled. "You know you don't have to do that," she admonished her elder brother. "I happen to like visiting it in the museum."

"So, you're definitely still coming up?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Tell you what. I'll take you out to dinner to make this up to you. You've got my cell phone number. Give me a call around five, and we'll make our plans then."

"Sounds good. I'll see you later, Emilio."

"You, too, kid. Drive carefully."

"I will."

With that, Rosario hung up the phone and glanced at her alarm clock. {I still have two hours. Well, that's two hours earlier I can get to Dallas.}

After a quick shower, Rosario slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed a Pop-Tart out of the box on the counter. {Dallas Museum of Art, here I come,} she thought as she headed out the door.

* * * * *

"Barnabas!" Julia exclaimed, exasperated, "You haven't forgotten that I need the car today, have you?"

Barnabas, who had done just that, bluffed, "Of course I haven't forgotten. It's just that I've finished reading through the 1800 census, and have found all of the Sarah Collinses in the country who would have been 14 that year, as well as a few 14 year old Jane Does, and now I need to compare them to the Sarah Collinses in the 1790 census."

"Well, I don't have time to drive you in to Fort Worth and still make it to the symposium. Isn't there something you can do here in Dallas?"

"Well, I *had* been looking at this flyer for the Dallas Museum of Art. . ."