“I think I’ll leave it at
that…”  Helena bowed out of the room, leaving Quin to
her own thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~*

            Alice walked back into the library, casting
her gaze up to the wall that held the painting of Quin, Hamilton, and Helena. 
She wiggled her nose, and stared hard. 
Her eyes went from Quin to Hamilton, then back to Quin and finally resting
on Hamilton.

            “Gorgeous isn’t it?”  Peggy asked and Alice jumped, and then smiled at the mother of
all the Peabody‘s.

            “Yeah, they all are.  You have beautiful children.”  Alice smiled, Peggy putting her arm around Alice‘s waist. 
She smiled, thinking that Alice was just a wonderful woman all around.

            “Yes, well your mother said the same
thing about you and your brother and sister.” 
Peggy smiled, her eyes roaming over Hamilton‘s picture, wishing and wanting things
that were never meant to be.

            “Did you get Lenore‘d yet?” 
Alice asked and Peggy laughed.

            “No, she’s been preoccupied by Melvin Porter.” 
Peggy smiled, and Alice groaned, not sure that was a much better
match.  Let Bette figure that one out.

            “Tell me about him, Ham?”  Peggy pulled away, moving to the portrait, taking in a long
breath.  

            “Brilliant, reckless.  Utterly insane sometimes.”  Peggy admitted, “He was a wonderful child, a hazardous
teenager and wasn’t a man long enough for me to form an opinion.”  Peggy grinned Alice smiled. 

            “They were close?”  Alice asked Peggy nodded.

            “To close I thought at times, as
close as you and your shadow.  They were
opposites in many ways, and sometimes perfectly the same.  When he… 
Died, Quin became even more of a recluse, and then she disappeared
quickly after the funeral.  You’re
wonderful for her Alice, my daughter has changed so much for the
better since you’ve pranced into her life, and I wish you’d known Hamilton.” 
Peggy said, venturing out into the party
again, Alice staring hard at the portrait of Ham,
wondering why he looked utterly familiar.

~*~*~*~*~* 

            “No! 
They can’t make me write that, can they?”  Jenny asked, laughing harder with every sentence each of
them came up with.  Tina held her stomach, shaking her head.

            “They can’t make you, but if they
don’t use what you write, you don’t get paid. 
So usually script writers will usually do what they are told.”  Tina smiled; Cassandra and Marina sat down, wondering why their women were
laughing like loons.