It was a 12-hour plus drive from McLean to Amelia Island. Peter was within three hours of his destination before he gave in to sleep and stopped in a motel near the exit to Hilton Head off Route 95. He was back home before lunch the next day. All was well at home. The Nguyens served a curried chicken and a medley of curried vegetables for lunch. Both Jack and Bernadette sat close to him at lunchtime. Rip had matured slightly in his absence. He was now curled up under the table. It was a strict protocol that Rip was not fed from the table but anything that fell on the deck was his. Somehow, Jack always managed to drop something with an innocent look of “how did that happen?”

After lunch when it was time for Jack’s nap, Bernadette led Peter up to the master bedroom and demanded a briefing. Peter said, “How can I brief you when you’re sitting on my lap and wiggling?”

“Come lie down and let me get the wiggling urge out of my system, then you can brief me.”

Lying beside Peter with one long, shapely leg still lying across his body, Bernadette said, “Okay, I’m almost done wiggling. Now the briefing and don’t hold anything back.”

“First I missed you very much and missed the comfortable feeling that my back was covered. In two cases some people died. One I killed, and the others tried to trap me but I figured it out and sent the good guys to show up for dinner rather than me. It was a trap and at least two were killed and maybe three others arrested. I watched from some distance but don’t have any more details.”

“What do I have to do to convince you that you’re safer with me than not?”

“Nothing. Jack’s safety is more important to me than my own. So I feel safe when I know you’re here with Jack. You are probably the deadliest governess anyone ever had for their son. If you weren’t so good I’d have you with me all the time.”

“Okay. That’s a good answer. I have to have more time to think up a response.” As she rolled over on Peter, she said, “Your briefing is over. My turn.”