Ellie sipped from her cup and then set it back onto the glass patio table. “Well, this bake sale sounds like a wonderful idea to help raise money for our charity this month. So if no one has any objections, we'll do it.” Ellie's eyes fell upon Mary Anne Teasdale, whose face was engulfed by a look of distress.

“But I don't bake. I've never so much as baked a loaf of bread.” Clad in an overly-gaudy flowered hat, Mary Anne stood up and addressed the committee. “I think my idea for the rummage sale is much better. Not everyone can bake, but I am sure that we all have a few extra things lying around that we could contribute.”

Donna rolled her eyes at her former opponent in the Dallas mayoral race. “Mary Anne, do you not have a housekeeper and a cook?”

“Well…yes…” Mary Anne definitely didn't like Donna.

“I'm sure she can bake.”

“Well…yes she can.”

Mavis Anderson broke in. “Good, then it's all settled. A bake sale it is. Now the next order of business…”

“Actually,” Mary Anne broke in, “I have something I'd like to discuss with the rest of the Daughters, if that's okay with you Mavis.”

Mavis' smile faded and she took a sip of her tea. “By all means, do share.”

Mary Anne turned to face Donna. “Mayor Krebbs, it is no secret that you and I don't share the same platform, but I have heard that you intend to fight the so-called Project Guinea that our oil companies are involved in.”

Donna looked around the group nervously, but her gaze locked back on Mary Anne. Was there no end to the trouble this woman tried to cause for her? “I don't see what Project Guinea has to do with the Daughters of the Alamo.”

“How silly…it has everything to do with us. We all take an interest in politics, do we not?” Mary Anne looked around the group for a few nods. “I think we should have a friendly debate about this, since it seems to be such a hot topic anyway.”

“Okay then, yes, I intend to fight Project Guinea.” Donna folded her arms across her chest. “Are you for it?”

Mary Anne laughed dryly. “Of course I'm for it! I am for anything that will benefit our great state. Are you not?”

“Not at the expense of another.”

“I see. Hmm…I can assure you that had I been elected mayor of Dallas, I would do nothing but support this project. Or at the very least, I wouldn't have opposed it.” Mary Anne looked at Ellie. She was almost sure that she'd share her opinion on the matter. “Ellie, what do you think about all of this, coming from a family like the Ewings? The oil industry made your family what it is now.”

“No, hard work, dedication, and a lot of love made my family what it is now. No industry can do that.”

“You know what I mean.”

Ellie shook her head. “No I don't. The oil business was an almost constant source of turmoil in my family.”

“So what you are saying is, that you don't think this project is a good idea?”

Ellie looked at Donna momentarily before her eyes drifted back to meet Mary Anne's. She couldn't just come out and say that she was for Project Guinea, not when Mary Anne Teasdale was using it against Donna. “I think that it will all be decided soon enough, what's good for our state and what's not.”

“You're dodging the question,” Mary Anne snapped.

Val Ewing had been quiet for most of the meeting. Being a visitor, she hadn't felt it was her place to comment on the proceedings of the meeting, but she clearly saw Ellie's dilemma and had to put a stop to it. She too had firm feelings on this venture. “I think it's a terrible idea and the U.S. is going to need one heck of a public relations person to smooth this all over after it's done.”

“I agree with Valene, the environmental impact is going to put a huge blemish on our reputation. It's a complete disregard for the environment and human welfare in Africa,” Mavis broke in. “But I think we've said enough about it for today, now how about moving on to our next topic?”

She looked up anxiously as she picked at her food with her fork. “I just don't get to see you much any more, Dad. And I keep hearing on the news that you and Sue Ellen are gonna be heading off to Africa in the summer...”

“Oh, Jillian, I'm sorry...I know I've been busy lately, with Sue Ellen and Ewing Oil, but I'll make time for you soon, I promise. Your Grandma is planning a barbecue at the end of the month, what if I promise to spend the whole week after that with you? I know it's not much, but you gotta understand I'm a busy man...and I'm sure you don't wanna spend too much time with your old man, do you?” He smiled, hoping she'd go along with him.

“Sure, Dad,” she replied faintly, knowing that they would probably never get that week together. “Anyway, I've gotta run, John Ross told me he'd drive me to school...” she got up and kissed J.R. “I'll talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” he replied as she left the room. He continued to eat his breakfast, and flipped through the financial pages of the newspaper, when he was interrupted by Sue Ellen.

“We need to talk,” she said sharply as she sat down.

“Well, good morning to you, too. What's on your mind, Darlin?”

“Don't Darlin me, J.R. I had lunch with Cliff Barnes, yesterday, and guess what I learned?”

“Sue Ellen,” he started in frustration, “whatever that jackass taught you about Chinese food, I'm not interested in hearing it.”

Ignoring him, Sue Ellen considered with her questioning. “No. Cliff told me that you're bailing him out of some deal he has with Rex Wentworth in exchange for that land adjacent to Southfork. And he told me just how much crude oil you're shipping to Rex Wentworth.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I want to know where you're taking that oil from, J.R., and I want to know now.”

“I don't owe you an explanation,” J.R. said as he stood to stand taller than Sue Ellen. “This deal is not between Ewing and Cliff, it's between myself and Cliff, which means I'm not even using Ewing crude. So, Sue Ellen, maybe you oughta just mind your own damn business.”

He walked away, leaving Sue Ellen standing in the dining room, stunned, but somewhat relieved. And even though it wasn't any of her business, she couldn't help but wondering, where was he getting the crude from?

“Hey Jill.” Manny switched off the electric hedge-trimmer and set it at the base of the hedge he was working on. “What's that?”

Jillian patted the basket that was hanging on her arm. “A pick-a-nick basket,” she said in her best Yogi Bear impression.

Manny cracked a smile. “That was terrible…now what's it for?”

“Duh! A picnic. I thought I'd pack a lunch and we could go down by the creek and sit down and eat together--”

“Jill…” Manny interrupted, “I hate to sound like a broken record, but what about your father? He made it clear how he feels about you and me hanging out together.”

“Well you know what they say…when the cat's away, the mice will play. Daddy's going to be at Ewing Oil until late this afternoon.” Jillian grabbed Manny's hand and pulled him away from the hedgerow. He reluctantly let himself follow her.

She noticed that he was talking to Zack, one of his friends he often hung out with. Oh well, she hadn't come all this way to be scared away just because he wasn't alone. Isabel folded her arms across her stomach and quickly paced across the crowded mall. “Lucas!”

Lucas looked up and saw her coming toward him. Unlike Isabel, his emotions weren't mixed. He regretted sleeping with her, end of story. It had been in the heat of the moment and it had been wrong. “Isabel…hi.”

Isabel smiled at Zack. “Mind if I talk to Lucas alone?”

“Not at all. Lucas, I'll meet you back here in a half-hour, there's something I want to go check out at the electronics store.” Zack waved to them both and disappeared into the crowd.

Isabel looked around. “Can we go someplace quieter?”

Five minutes later they'd found a table at the far corner of the food court. While not exactly quiet, it was more secluded than standing in the middle of the crowd they'd been in. “Do you want anything to drink?” Lucas asked.

She shook her head. A drink might settle the nervous feeling in her stomach, but she didn't want to wait on him to get back with it. If she did, she might lose her gumption and leave.

“Okay…so what did you want to talk about?”

Isabel stared into his blue eyes and the feeling in her stomach worsened. He was young. Only seventeen. Any girl would have done anything to call him her boyfriend. He came from a wealthy family, his mother was the mayor of Dallas, and his boyish good looks were just the icing on the cake. And 'anything' was exactly what Isabel was about to do, despite the dread that had built up inside of her.

“Isabel?”

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“About us,” Isabel confessed.

“Us? I'm sorry, but there is no us. We made a big mistake and slept together one time.”

“Lucas…I'm pregnant.”

Lucas opened his mouth, but no words came out. The sound of the crowds surrounded him, but then it all blurred out and he was glad he was sitting down. A light-headed feeling crept over him and he closed his eyes. “How…you said you were on the pill…”

“I said it in the heat of the moment…all I wanted was to be comforted by you. I wasn't thinking clearly and it just came out. I'm so sorry Lucas…”

“Sorry? You just took my whole future away because of one little lie and all you can say is sorry?” Lucas buried his face in his hands. “I can't have a kid…I just can't! I wanted to go to UT this fall…”

“You can still do that…it's not like you don't have the money.”

“No Isabel, I won't have the money because as soon as Dad finds out about this, he's going to cut my whole supply off and there won't be any college for me…my grades aren't good enough for scholarships and I can't afford it myself.”

“Damn,” Isabel thought. That was one kink she didn't need thrown into her plans.

“He'll understand.”

“No. And he's not going to find out.”

“He'll have to find out. We'll need money…lots of it…for doctor visits, for buying stuff for the baby. We'll need a house to live in…”

Lucas grabbed Isabel by the arm. “You are not going to tell him. This is your problem Isabel, not mine. You lied to me and manipulated me and now this is the end result…well I'm sorry.” Lucas stood up, knocking his chair over. The sound of the crash caused several people to look around and the area went quiet. Lucas bolted out of the food court, leaving Isabel alone.

“Wade, thanks for coming.”

“Sure, Miss Ellie. The way Manny sounded, it seemed somewhat urgent. Have I done something wrong?”

“Heavens no! I didn't want to leave you with an idea like that. I just needed to talk to you, is all.”

“What's going on?”

“I'm curious if you know anything about Brighton's Bend.”

“I think I asked you the same question a few days ago, ma'am.”

“I know you did,” Ellie smiled, “but I just wondered if you've ever heard your mother mention anything about that place.”

“I don't reckon that I do,” Wade replied. “What difference does it make?”

“I've been thinking of going there. When we visited your grandmother, she kept talking about some form of family secret there.”

Wade couldn't help but laugh slightly. When he saw that Miss Ellie was serious, he replied, “Miss Ellie, with all due respect, I don't know that you should put any credence at all in what Grammy Emily says. Like I told you, I've never seen her that far gone. It was probably just some fantasy world that she's created during all her time alone in that place.”

“I think I'd still like to go there. Unfortunately, my traveling companion, Mr. McKay, who promised to go with me seems to have dropped off the face of the earth in recent days.”

“Maybe that's for the best.” Ellie shot Wade a penetrating stare. “What I mean,” Wade said, “is that it's probably better to just take what she said as the ramblings of an old woman. Besides, even if there were something in that town, anyone who knows anything is probably dead.”

“As usual, Wade, you're probably right.”

“Well, I can't guarantee that now, Miss Ellie. Momma is always telling me I'm wrong about a lot of things, like working here, for instance.”

Ellie looked into Wade's face. “It's so sad that she still harbors animosity against me like that. I'll have to arrange to have her out for lunch or something, show her how important you are to the running of this ranch, especially now that Ray has the Cattleman's Club, and both J.R. and Bobby are so involved in their own lives.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Miss Ellie. I try to do my best.”

“And you're doing that, Wade. Before I forget to ask, How is Diana doing?”

“It's funny you should ask that,” Wade said, as he reached into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve a photograph of the baby. “She looked sick to me this morning.”

“Is it anything serious?” Ellie asked, a feeling of urgency in her voice.

“Can't really say, ma'am,” came Wade's reply.

“Are Amelia and Helen going to take her to the hospital?”

Wade thought a moment before answering, “Who knows, Miss Ellie? She loves to remind people over and over again how poor the Sawyer family is.”

“That's not true,” Ellie said. “You're making a good deal of money as foreman here at Southfork.”

“I know that, and I thank you for it,” Wade said sheepishly.

“And if you need some extra money to cover any hospital bills, you just let me know.”

“How would I explain that to my mother?' Wade asked.

“There'd be nothing to explain. You're family, Wade, and if there's one thing I've learned over the years it's that family always comes first.”

When they reached their destination, the limo pulled alongside the hotel and its occupants began climbing out. First were J.R. and Sue Ellen, followed by Martin Bailey of PetroGulf, Cal Stackhouse of Stackhouse Oil, Bruce Jackson of TulsaCo and Marlene Scott, the owner of O.K. Oil. J.R. led the way into the hotel and through to the reception hall, where a large group of press, politicians and other oil company execs (including Cliff and Jeremy Wendell) had already assembled.

“I understand you're working with J.R. Ewing, now,” Wendell asked Cliff, who stood to next to him. “My, my, Cliff, I've never met a man who has such a passion for being burned.”

“I had no choice,” he replied shortly. “Your boss had me by the throat, what was I supposed to do?”

“My 'boss' is practically living in an iron lung these days, Cliff. I'm in charge, now- and I probably would've let you off the hook for a lot less than Ewing. I like to think I'm a reasonable man...and besides, putting the screws to you is only fun so many times. I reached my quota years ago.”

Cliff rolled his eyes. “Well, what's done is done. Maybe we could do some business in the future, though.”

“Oh, I don't think so,” Wendell said. “You're just too much of a loose cannon.” He turned and walked away from Cliff, taking his seat at the front of the room.

Meanwhile, J.R. and company shook hands and joined Wendell in their assigned seats. Soon they too had made their way to their assigned seats, and before long, the crowd had settled.

“Shall we commence the meeting?” Carlton Beckley asked one of his associates, who replied simply with a nod. He took the podium and began to read from his notes:

“Ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, thank you for gathering here today. My name is Carlton Beckley, and I'm a representative from the United States Department of Energy, and I have been chosen to lead these meetings and act as the government's representative in Africa. This will be the first of likely seven or eight meetings before departure, and we hope to, before dinner, have ironed out concerns such as leadership, financial specifics, drill sites, etcetera. I also know that some of you have some questions, so there will be a question and answer period today before we wrap everything up, too.” He flipped open a laptop computer which was connected to a projector, beaming the screen picture onto the large screen at the front of the room.

“What you see on the screen is actually included in the information package you received with your invitation; we will be drilling from ten major sites across Nigeria and offshore in the Gulf of Guinea, with a target output of ten million barrels a day. There will be a government rep present at all drill sites at all times, as well as a Washington-appointed rig crew. However, we expect and fully welcome representatives from the respective companies to be on-hand.”

He flipped to the next screen in his presentation. “What you see here is the breakdown of the profits of this venture. The government will assume sixty six percent of the proceeds from the drilling, but will also assume a two-thirds share in the financing, which, when dividing the remaining third amongst you, leaves very little risk for the independents.”

“And very little profit,” one of the oilmen spoke up.

“Ahh, Mr. Cobb, it is generally agreed that a thirty four percent profit share is only fair. Perhaps if your company had been more willing to assume a greater responsibility...”

Jeremy Wendell smirked as the men argued about percentages. Weststar was more than willing to invest in this venture. Besides, if one of the companies were to be acquired during the campaign, it was only logical that Weststar would have a bigger piece of the pie.

He stood up, cutting Cobb off.

"Mr. Beckley, I think that the government's interest in the project is very fair. Mr. Cobb, I feel that you should not make the oil men of Dallas look...” he looked to Cliff Barnes, "...cheap.”

Cliff's nostrils flared.

"But I digress," Wendell resumed. "As Chairman of Weststar Oil, the largest oil company in Texas, "I feel that it's time we address leadership of the project."

Carlton smiled at Wendell's subdued menace. "How about some time to discuss other matters first, Mr. Wendell?" He asked with a smile.

"Certainly," Wendell said as he sat down.

The figures of project returns came up, and so did a list of all the companies involved. Wendell saw a name on the list, and decided to excuse himself.

He went to an empty hallway, and dialed a number on his phone. "Wendell here. I want to know about the following companies," he said, “and what it would take to buy one or more of them.” He then proceeded to list off some of the minor oil companies.

"Yes sir,” the information tech replied. Wendell waited a moment.

"Sir? I have that information. Stock in Stackhouse Oil is currently trading at $15 a share, losing money for the past two fiscal quarters because of bad investments and Enron. Stackhouse has small amounts of stock in almost every company you just named. They have good reserves, and..."

"All right. Buy into it. Use the London stock exchange, and put the stock in a European dummy corporation."

"Yes sir," he said right before Wendell shut his phone. He walked back into the grand hall, where the eyes of J.R. noticed him as he came in.

Wendell sat back down, and smiled at Cal Stackhouse. I knew that Stackhouse would be a sound acquisition he thought to himself.

"So, ladies and gentlemen, you can see that the region is relatively safe, and the government, as well as providing much of the backing, will be securing the safety of all involved. Questions?"

J.R. stood up. "I want a guarantee of that, Mr. Beckley. Seems I remember a time not too long ago, my daddy was killed while working for the government. I want to know if you mean it this time."

"Mr. Ewing, I can't stress how secure we plan to make it for all involved. And, in the unfortunate incident with your father, though tragic, it was not a result of a failing in government policy in the region. It was simply an accident,” he said, somewhat bluntly.

“Well I'll just wait and see,” J.R. said.

Carlton was obviously rattled by that, and it took a second for him to regain his train of thought. “Do we have any more questions that need to be answered immediately?” He paused, waiting for a response. “No? All right, then...we'll take a short break and meet back here in an hour to discuss matters of leadership.”

As the leaders of the oil community stood, Wendell walked over to J.R. "So, J.R., I see that you're trying to succeed where Daddy failed."

"Wendell, you'd do well not to speak about Daddy to me."

"Well, your father isn't the reason I came over. I'm curious as to why you think saving Cliff Barnes is going to be something that can help you with me in the long run."

"Wendell, you never learn, do you? Ol' J.R. never forgives, and he never forgets. I hope you haven't forgotten.” He got close to Wendell's face. "You still owe me, boy. And one day, I'm going to collect." His face lit up as he walked away. “Count on it.”

Wendell decided to have a chat with Stackhouse. He walked over. "Cal? I think we need to talk...”

“Teresa made them,” she said when she saw Manny looking.

Jillian spread out the sandwiches, potato chips, and a cold Pepsi for both of them. “This looks really good.” Manny relaxed on the blanket and took a bite out of his sandwich. “Give my compliments to Teresa.”

“Believe it or not, I didn't just come all the way out here to have lunch with you,” Jill confessed. “I came to ask you a favor…for a friend of mine.”

“Do I know him or her?”

“Yeah, you do. It's my cousin Margaret.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I guess you've heard the Ewing barbecue is coming up in a few days and Margaret has been pretty lonely lately. I had a talk with her just a few days ago. Do you think you could kinda…be her date for the barbecue? Just for that one day? It would mean so much to her…and me.” God, it wasn't easy being unselfish, but Jillian figured Margaret could have Manny for just one day. Who knows, maybe it would give her the confidence she needed to ask out a guy of her own.

“That's a weird request.”

“Yeah, I know, but Margaret needs a little boost.”

Manny turned over onto his stomach and rested his chin on his crossed arms. “I guess I could do it.”

“Thank you!” Jillian threw herself down beside him and put her hand on his back. Manny turned back over on his side.

“No problem.” He looked down at his watch. “I need to get back to work soon.”

Jillian rolled over onto her back and stared up at the clouds above. If she had just done something so good for someone, then why did she feel so bad? Deep down she knew. Jealous boiled up inside of her.

“Something's wrong with Diana.”

“Amelia,” Helen scolded, “how many times do I have to tell you that that baby is fine. You're just over-anxious…that's a completely natural reaction for a young mother to have.”

“Momma, I'm serious, I think something's wrong,” Amelia shot back. “Diana's my daughter. I can tell there's something wrong with her. We need to take her to Dallas Memorial or somethin'.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Helen sighed, “that we aren't like the almighty Ewings or the filthy rich Barnes's in this town. We can't afford to take anyone to the hospital on a whim like this.”

“But you can afford to let your granddaughter die,” Amelia retorted.

That stopped Helen in her tracks. She thought back to the joy that she had felt when the doctor had told her that Amelia had given birth. It made her wish that her Daddy were still alive, to see that first great-grandchild.

“You don't have to make me feel guilty.”

“All I'm asking for is your help, Momma. If you don't wanna help me, I'll call Wade.”

“You'll do nothing of the kind, Amelia. Wade is connected to the Ewings now. Once they draw you into their trap, there's no escaping. We won't ever touch a dime of that Ewing money. We're better than they are. We'll go to the hospital…on our own.”

Helen reached over to the kitchen table, and grabbed her purse.

“I'll start the car. You go get the baby.”

“Yeah, I haven't eaten in days, I've been too nervous about that deal with Weststar, and what J.R.'s up to. Were you able to get anything out of him?”

“Nope,” she answered. “He informed me that it's none of my business since the deal is strictly between you and him, not between Ewing Oil. But, he did tell me that the crude isn't coming from Ewing.”

“It's not?” Cliff asked. “Well, you know what, I guess I should just be happy that he saved my ass...and I'm sure I'd rather not know where he's getting it from. As long as I don't wind up in jail...”

He was interrupted by J.R., who walked over with Bruce Jackson. “Say, Barnes, I understand you've been trying to cause me some trouble?”

“What, me?” Cliff asked. “No, I know better.”

“That's what I thought,” J.R. responded. “Say, Sue Ellen, I wanted you to meet Bruce Jackson...he's the one that let us in on that hot deal down in the gulf, last year.”

“Oh, you're with TulsaCo?” Sue Ellen asked. “We actually just received a proposal from you  what was it, yesterday?”

“Yes you did,” Jackson answered. “And if you thought that gulf deal was hot, wait till you see this one. But, we'll talk more on that later...J.R. was just asking me what we all thought about leadership for this here project. I understand they want us to elect a representative to act as the liaison between the government and the oil companies. I was just wonderin' what you folks thought about that.”

By this time, more of the oilmen who had arrived with Ewing Oil had gathered by the group to see what was going on. “I heard Wendell wants us to elect him,” Cliff said. “After all, he ischairman of the largest oil company in Texas, you know.”

“Well, naturally I thought that Ewing Oil should have a hand in all this,” J.R. said. “...Unless, of course, Mr. Barnes wants to take another shot at public office.”

“If you think I'm willing to put my fate in your hands twice in one week, you're out of your mind,” Cliff said.

J.R.'s eyes lit up. “Hey boys, that reminds me, have you heard about what I did for ole Cliffy here, last week?” He asked, raising his voice. “The poor guy was starving for oil, so I sent him up a couple of million barrels out of the kindness of my heart. What do you all think of that?”

They all laughed and joked with him, kidding him about how soft-hearted he had become. “But that's not the good part,” he said. “The punch line is, if you smell a foul stench, it's coming from Mr. Wendell over there, who's literally swimming in oil! Say, what are you gonna do with it all, Jeremy?” He called out to across the room.

Hearing the commotion, Wendell came over to that side of the room. “Might I have a moment of your time, J.R.?” He asked.

“Jeremy, anything you have to say to me can be said in front of these folks...I have no secrets from them, do I, Sue Ellen?”

If I didn't know better, I'd swear he'd been drinking Sue Ellen said to herself, reflecting on his rambunctious attitude. “You sure don't, J.R.,” she said, playing along. She wasn't pleased with the secret he was keeping from her, but there was no way she would let Jeremy Wendell score points off of him.

“If that's how you want it, fine. I just wanted to tell you that no matter what, I will be leading this venture. Look around the room at the number of oilmen here...do you really think you can get all of their votes? You don't even knowhalf of the people here. You're losing your power, J.R., and it won't be long before I have you down for good.” He turned his attention to Sue Ellen. “If I were you, Sue Ellen, I'd get out now before it's too late, because I will show no mercy.”

He turned, as if he planned to walk away, but J.R. continued to egg him on. “How many of you read the paper this morning?” He asked the group. “I happened to see an interesting article in the Financial pages today, and as much as it alarmed me, it must've alarmed Mr. Wendell ten times as much. Iraq is exporting again.” Judging by the reactions from the crowd, he deduced that most of them obviously hadn't read the paper. Wendell's statement, however, was too difficult to read.

“...and, as all of you know, whenever Saddam decides to let the world have more of his oil, it sends the price of crude over here into a downward spiral. And so, Mr. Wendell, just what are you going to do with all that oil Cliff and I are sending you? It's becoming more and more worthless every day.” He grinned.

Carlton Beckley, having seen the fight, now made his way onto the scene to act as a mediator. “Ladies and gentlemen, can you please take your seats?” He asked. “We might as well get the leadership particulars out of the way, since it seems to be such a hot topic.”

Wendell and J.R. had other plans, however. As reporters and photographers snapped pictures, the two men continued to spar. “Your five o'clock shipment should be arriving right about now,” J.R. said as he looked at his watch. “That's another 20,000 barrels, and there's more on the way tomorrow...” he mused.

They were now so close that their faces were almost touching. “I've brought down Rex Wentworth, Ewing, and you're next. Take a long hard look at your so-called friends, because it won't be long before they'll be lining up to do business with Weststar, and you will be the laughing stock of Texas.” He did an about face and stormed off.

“I've heard it before,” he called after him, “and better men than you have tried to break me.” He looked at Cliff. “You won't even chair this committee, never mind destroy me.” He stopped, trying to make up one of his quick-witted one-liners, but decided to leave it at that. “Why don't we take our seats?” He asked with a grin.

Margaret put down her pencil and took off her glasses. Her calculus homework was really beginning to bog her down and she would be thankful when the school year was over, which would happen in just one week. Hopefully she'd be able to keep her 4.0, but that all depended on her calculus final.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Margaret?”

“Yeah?” Margaret didn't recognize the voice at first.

“It's Manny.”

“Manny?” What on God's green earth was Manny doing calling her? Margaret perked up and listened. “What's up?”

On the other end of the line, Manny paused. This definitely wasn't something he was used to doing. His mouth went dry. “Well…actually…I was calling about the barbecue.”

“Barbecue?” What barbecue? “Oh! The Ewing barbecue. Yeah, of course. What about it?”

“I was wondering if…” Why had Manny let Jill talk him into this? “If you wanted to come with me.”

Margaret let the phone fall to her side and she pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Once she was satisfied this was for real, she put the phone back to her ear. “Well, yeah…I guess I could go,” she said, trying not to sound over-anxious. “If I'm not too swamped with homework…” Okay, that's going too far Margaret. What a nerd! she thought. “Not that I will be…but you never know. Teachers love to pile it up at the end of the year…” she gushed on.

Manny found himself laughing. “Okay then, that sounds great. I'll call later on in the week and we'll make all the plans.”

“Yeah, sure,” Margaret beamed. “I'll talk to you later, Goodbye Manny!” She hung up the phone and let out all of her excitement by jumping on the bed. After seventeen years Margaret Krebbs had finally been asked out—by Manny of all people. “Take that Jillian!” she shouted gleefully.

“This is Tanya Morgan,” the woman said. “My neighbor's house is on fire.”

Despite the best efforts of the dispatcher, by the time the crew arrived, the house was all but destroyed. Nearly everything in Helen Sawyer's small home had been taken away.

CREDITS ROLL

This episode was written by Matt Becker, Stephen Reiger, and Justin Stiles.