The new day began as it inevitably does. Monday again.

Drew woke up at five, just a hair ahead of her alarm, and hit the button before it rang. The sun had just come out. She yawned and padded to the bathroom. Used to be she hated waking up this early but now it was old hat.

She was up late the night before finishing the installation of the cameras, with a 64GB memory card in each, setting up each one to take a picture every minute, or when there was movement. Each picture would be two hundred kilobytes so that means each can run up to a year before she had to download the pictures and make room for more.

She also got all the "spycam" stuff, experimented with them a little bit, and dumped them all in her desk drawer.

Turning to her dresser table, she finished lining the two knickknack boxes with the Faraday Cage kits, and then gluing felt paper over the metal mesh-like material so it wasn't obvious. For her box, she threaded the cables for the cell phone booster antenna and power supply through a verrry tiny hole she had poked through the bottom of the box, and then taped the box down permanently to her nightstand with mounting tape.

She then snapped off the four arms of the booster's cradle and mounted it lying on its back inside the box. She experimented with putting her phone on it and it worked - the booster switching on automatically when the weight of the phone was on the cradle. She turned on her phone's music player and, while it was playing, she put it inside the box and closed the lid. Drew smiled as the sound was hardly muffled. She did the same thing for her dad's box.

Using a needle and thread, she then lined the large, neoprene computer sleeves they just got with the mesh as well, and put slightly smaller neoprene sleeves inside to act as liners. These were where they would keep their computers when not in use.

As for her dad's box, computer sleeves, and all the other bits, she put them on her dresser, with a note for him explaining what she did, and how he could later mount his box the way she did hers.

This way, she and her dad could turn on the radio scanners and detectors, and their phones and computers would not trigger them, even if they were switched on.

When she finally decided to turn in, she changed into another nightie. It was her second night to wear one. They felt comfortable and she thought she might continue wearing them.

-----

When she woke up, she was relieved that there were no... after-effects from night dreams this time.

She got up and did her usual routine of toilet, toothbrush, bathtub, rinse, moisturize, and then hair and makeup. As she got ready, she thought of her long conversation with her dad about what she had already been thinking as "the Case of the Old Clock."

She had shown the stuff she found in the clock to her dad last night, plus the pictures she took. Carson listened and looked at the note and the pictures in detail. Drew was so thorough, he didn't bother to look at the clock any more. After a bit of thinking, he shared some of his ideas. He suggested Drew check out which theaters in New York had ever shown Kismet, and narrow the date that way. He also thought that the phone company could still help trace telephone numbers, even if they were already defunct, so maybe she could go to the phone company, too. She could also google the names in the note - Marlee, Chloe, Rocko, Ziggy, and of course Luigi Falcone. At worst, she could use the phone listings and search for "43" house numbers in Riverdale, and actually visit each and compare the houses there to the one in the picture.

Drew had already thought of all of that, but she didn't want to be a smart aleck with her dad so she just nodded. She told him she'd start work on it right away, after class.

-----

Picking clothes for school was a bit harder today, she didn't know why. But she eventually picked a nice set of intimates in neutral ivory, put them on and picked her new pair of strappy cork wedges with the adjustable ankle straps. They had five-inch heels (courtesy of the two-inch platforms) so they made her almost as tall as her dad. Good. Girls taller than them usually intimidate boys - this'll keep them from bothering me, she thought.

She picked a color block dress that featured a solid, royal blue chiffon skirt with a royal blue lining underneath, and the top part a light-pink lace bodice.

She looked at the dress contemplatively, noting the sheerness and tightness of the slip underneath. She decided to change her panties for one of her gaffs to be sure. She also thought it best to start buying some more gaffs soon. Lots more. Maybe this afternoon.

After changing her underwear and putting the dress on, she started looking through her still-meager collection of jewelry and accessories. In the end she decided to match her outfit with her new white watch on one wrist and a bunch of jangly silver bangles on the other, some rings, silver hoop earrings and one simple, thin chain around her neck. She picked up her things and got her big canvas duffel, which she usually used to lug around laundry. She also got her oversized knitted pullover sweater that she sometimes wore to bed, and put it in the duffel.

She looked at her watch. Quarter after six - still totally on schedule this morning, despite the fact that she still needed to pass by Callie's first.

Spritzing herself with her new perfume, she went downstairs and caught her dad just starting breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hey, Pop," she said, and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, Drew," he replied. "Did you sleep well?" he asked as he bustled around the kitchen, cooking sunny-side-up eggs and bacon.

"Pretty good," she said. "I'll just go to the safe and get one of my wigs."

Carson didn't ask the obvious question, i.e. why. "Coffee in the pot, and the toast should be ready in a sec," he said instead.

After retrieving a wig, putting it in the duffel with her sweater and closing up the safe, Drew helped Dad prepare breakfast by putting out plates, low-fat butter, milk and a pitcher of orange juice. She got the toast as soon as they popped out, piled them on a plate, and put more in the toaster.

Carson was by the stove in the kitchen cooking. An induction stove - no gas ranges for them anymore. He flipped a fried egg onto Drew's plate. As usual, Carson expertly excised the yolk, leaving the egg white, and put exactly two strips of bacon beside it. He put the yolk on his own plate, along with six strips.

Drew buttered three pieces of toast for her dad and one for herself, poured each of them coffee and orange juice, and then they sat down to breakfast. Carson opened the paper to the funnies and Drew switched on her iPad and browsed her favorite news feeds - her own version of the morning paper.

"So what do you have planned for today?" Carson asked over his paper.

"I was thinking of starting work on the note later after school," she answered.

"I would feel a whole lot better if you didn't work on that alone."

"But, Pop, I don't have that many friends who would want to help."

"Not too many friends yet, you mean. I've seen you a few times with your schoolmates."

Drew waved her dad down. "I don't have too many friends," she repeated, "and I never really made friends that easy before."

"We'll see. How about Callie and Iola?"

"They won't have time to help. Cheerleader practice."

"They can't always be at cheerleader practice."

"Well, this week they are. There're two championship away games this week."

"How about next week then?"

"Maybe. I'll ask."

"Okay."

"What about you?"

"Well, I'm going to put the finishing touches to my resumé and then email it. I'm also going to encash two certificates, deposit the proceeds and then contact Lt. Hardy."

"Why?"

"Need to convert the double-blind account."

Drew was about to comment, but Carson stopped her.

"I know, I know. But we have to do it, to keep the bank account from looking suspicious."

Drew nodded. "How much is in the account now?" she asked.

"Just above three and a half million."

"Has Lieutenant Hardy ever wondered where our money comes from?"

"I told him up front that they're from bearer stocks and bonds that Dave and I had, and I've been encashing them as we needed."

"Did he believe you?"

"Of course. Bearer stock certificates aren't issued much anymore, though some still are, and I assured him the ones Dave got are untraceable back to him, having gone through several hands. So that he wouldn't doubt it, I showed him the sales receipts, documents and stubs and he probably checked them. A few days after I talked with him, he offered the double-blind bank account where we could keep our money. I think he helped Dave plan this kind of thing, and had it already set up for him, and he just ended up giving it to us instead."

"Do you trust him? I mean, what if he does something funny to the account?"

"I do trust him. But, just to be on the safe side, I have a hundred thousand in hundred-dollar bills in the safe, in ten-thousand-dollar shrink-wrapped bundles. And that doesn't include the other bearer bonds and certificates we still have."

Drew nodded "How much will you be depositing this time?"

"I just checked last Friday's going stock prices. It'll be big. I think the bearer bonds will yield about half a million this time."

Drew's face grew serious and nodded judiciously. "So a total of over four million in the bank, and a hundred G's in the safe. Is that enough?"

Carson put down the paper and looked at Drew. "Huh?" Carson thought she was joking. He thought that was more than enough for anything at all that they would ever conceivably need. "Well, if you really think so, I guess I can sell a few more..."

Drew couldn't hold it in anymore, and burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Dad. Yeah, I think that's more than enough." Drew continued to giggle.

"I thought you wanted to buy a house or a boat or something."

"Nahhh, I was just foolin'." She giggled some more. "Actually, I thought what we already had in the bank was more than enough for whatever. We're filthy rich enough for now. " She giggled again. "Why did you want to put in more?"

"We're going to have to start hiding any unexplained influx of income once the double-blind account is shut down. Best to have a little more as a buffer before then. And it will look good when they do a credit check on us."

"They?"

"Well, if we guessed right, the companies I'll be applying to will most probably do a background check, which will probably include a credit check."

"Good thinking." She finished a final bite of toast and the last of her coffee and juice. "Listen, I have to run. Gotta pick up Callie before school." She gave her dad a peck on the cheek. "Besides working on my project, I'm gonna go buy some stuff after school this afternoon, in some... unusual places, so I may be home late for dinner. That okay?"

"How late?"

"I don't know - maybe nine or ten."

Carson nodded. He was curious what the "stuff" was, but he knew better than to ask for details. Nine was not exactly early, but he trusted Drew. "Okay. Take care."

"Good luck today." She gathered her stuff, kissed her dad on the cheek again, and ran out the door.

-----

It took Drew about fifteen minutes to get to Callie's aunt's place. She tooted her horn once. It was a mild Monday morning so, as she waited, she decided to roll the top down. She knew Callie would like that.

After about a minute, Callie stepped out the door of the house she shared with her aunt, leaned over to give her aunt a kiss and ran to Drew's car. Callie's aunt waved and Drew smiled and waved back.

Callie wore a chic wool blazer over a short-sleeved collarless lace top, blue cord shorts and shiny, patent leather Mary Janes with three-inch heels. She was also wearing more subtle colors, the makeup fairly restrained and tastefully applied. It was a lot less flamboyant than her usual looks, but it made her absolutely gorgeous to Drew. Drew didn't know it, but Callie was trying to emulate Drew's classier style instead of her and Iola's usual loud, overdone Staten Island style. The outing yesterday clearly had an impact on Callie.

Callie had known for a while now that she was a lesbian, since that illicit "affair" she had with that college girl that was renting her aunt's spare room before Callie's freshman year. Sadly, that girl had since moved on, and Callie, fearful of the reaction of her family and friends if she ever came out of the closet, never told anyone of that relationship nor of her newly-awakened lesbian sexuality.

With that awakening, she finally admitted to herself her feelings for her best friend, Iola. Callie had this enormous crush on Iola ever since grade school, but Iola clearly didn't think of her that way. Callie knew that but she never gave up hope. She idolized the shorter girl, and wished for the time when Iola would at least acknowledge her as more than a friend. In her wistful dreams, Callie imagined Iola finding out about her all on her own and reciprocating her feelings, or at the very least being accepting. But the girl was dense about such things, to say the least. Callie thought it would never happen. And telling Iola directly was out of the question.

Callie felt sad and afraid that this might be the way it would always be, but when Drew - this gorgeous, brilliant, kind, funny, friendly, rich, classy and mysterious creature - came literally from out of the blue, her world was turned upside down once again. Despite being empirically (a word she had learned from Drew) a less pretty girl than Iola "statistically speaking," Drew was still light years ahead of Callie's best friend, and to Callie and the rest of the student body, Drew was the most gorgeous, classiest girl in school. Best boobs, too, heehee. Drew had slowly stolen Callie's heart and mind away, so slowly that Callie herself only became fully aware of it yesterday.

After their swim date, Callie realized she had finally found that person she could open up to. What's more, that person was more than just accepting. Though not a lesbian, Drew had said that she would not throw the idea of a relationship out of hand. In Callie's mind, that statement had ignited a spark of hope. Callie had made up her mind last night (perhaps unconsciously) to make Drew hers. Perhaps not to outright make Drew hers, like a conquest (though dreaming that she would had made Callie's dreams last night unusually erotic), Callie knew that she needed to win the girl over gradually, with patience, love and time. That would be hard, though, since she wasn't known to be a patient girl.

-----

"Hey, girl," Drew said as Callie threw a big duffel bag in the boot and got into Drew's little Opel, leaning forward to give her a short hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek. Callie tried very hard to make her kiss-and-hug casual.

"'morning, Drew. Ready for the day?"

"You know it. I like your outfit, by the way. It's classy 'n sexy. Kind of a change from your usual style." Drew tooted her horn and waved to Callie's aunt again as she pulled into the street.

"I guess I wanted to try something new today," Callie dimpled.

"There's an away game today, right?"

"Yup. Got my uniform in my duffel. I'm gonna change during lunch period, just before we get on the bus for the game." She pointed to her bag in the back. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. I thought you and Iola might want to help me out with a little project after school."

Callie looked devastated. "I'm so sorry, honey. I wish I could, but this is one of the last games of the season. I can't..."

"S'ok," Drew said. "It's nothing important." She reached for Callie's hand. "Just a little project." Drew then told her about it, and what she had found inside their old clock.

"The clock wasn't your family's originally?" Callie asked, looking puzzled.

Drew decided to tell her the truth. Perhaps not the whole truth, but just enough to make it seem natural, and deflect her away from this chain of thought.

"No," Drew said. "Pop bought it at an antique store in town when we moved in - said it would make the house look better and class it up a bit, though Dad would probably deny that." She giggled. Sure, her laugh was partly for effect, but there was a lot of truthful humor in her giggle. She told Callie everything about the note, the picture and the handprint on the back.

Callie was intrigued, and flirted with the idea of ditching cheerleading today. Sure, spending time with Drew was tempting, but she couldn't. So they made a date to do it tomorrow and Wednesday instead.

"I don't get why you're doing this. Can't the police do this?"

Well... I guess you might say I do this sort of thing as a hobby. I've done this kind of thing before. It's fun, actually."

"isn't it dangerous?"

"Well, I guess it could be. It hasn't been so far, and I try to be careful."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Callie looked at Drew, and thought about this slightly off-the-wall hobby of hers. Somehow, it fit. And, far from being weirded out, Callie found it intriguing, and it added to the uniqueness, to the mystery, and to the attractiveness of Drew.

"Tell me about the other stuff you've worked on," Callie said.

Drew thought a bit and told her a few of the less... spectacular ones from the "cases" that she worked on as Andy, making sure to change around the names of people and places. She forgot to change George and Bess's names, though, but that couldn't do much harm, she thought, since the names weren't too uncommon... Maybe Bess, though.

Drew had just finished her eighth story when she pulled into the school parking lot.

Stepping out of the car, the two got the typical response that they were expecting, only more so - Callie's classy but sexy smoking-hot-librarian look and Drew's outfit and short 'n sassy bob put them over the top, and far from being turned off by it, they both enjoyed the attention, and fielded more than the usual suggestive comments. Near the juniors' girls' lockers, they met up with Iola, who was already in her cheerleader uniform.

"Hey, sexy," Drew called and bussed Iola on the cheek, while Callie gave her a hug.

"Wow, you two look great!" Iola enthused. "The short hair looks great, Drew!" She turned to Callie. "What's with the outfit? I thought we were coming in wearing our uniforms?"

"I changed my mind," Callie said, and pirouetted. "What do you think?"

"Nice, actually."

The final bell rang. They dumped most of their stuff in their lockers and hurried to their classes.

Iola was in a different class so Drew and Callie went on to their English class without her. Drew trailed the usual number of admirers on the way to English, and when she got to their room, most of them had melted away.

Callie gave Drew a hug and sat down at her seat. Drew found her own seat and smiled at her regular seatmates. "Hey, Carol," she said to the girl who had the seat beside hers.

"Whoa, girl! Nice haircut."

"Thank you," Drew said, smiling. "Guess I finally got tired of my old 'do."

"About time, too. You needed a new look."

The boy that sat on her other side pulled his chair closer to Drew's.

"Doin' anything after school, gorgeous?" Fred said.

"I'm open to doing anything, so long as it's not with you," Drew said, with a chuckle. She playfully socked him on the shoulder.

"Zzzing!" his buddy said. "She got ya, Fred." The both of them laughed along with Drew.

Callie wondered at that. Any other girl would probably not have gotten away with something like that, but Drew did it instinctively. She might not know certain things, Callie thought, but she does know about boys.

Ms. Cabot, the brunette substituting for their English (and homeroom) teacher, Mrs. Keaton, walked in just in time, and everyone settled down for an hour of gerunds, or whatever was on Mrs. Keaton's lesson plan for the morning.

After roll call and some homeroom-related stuff, Ms. Cabot started with the morning's lesson.

"All right, kids, let's begin with the day's lesson." The short substitute teacher swiped at a lock of hair falling over her left eye. "I hope you all did your reading assignments. So, Ms. Nance, why don't you get us started. Explain to everyone what gerunds are."

That put Drew in a pickle. Normally, being picked that way would have caused resentment for the "teacher's pet," but Drew knew how to manage that - she'd just do what Jane would do.

She looked to her right, at the clique of girls that were more-or-less the pack leaders of the class (most thought Drew belonged to that clique as well, even if Drew herself didn't), and rolled her eyes. She made sure that Ms Cabot didn't see her doing it even though most of the kids on that side saw.

The girls smiled conspiratorially with her.

She turned to the teacher.

"Well, Ma'am," Drew said, sounding professional, "gerunds are verbs that are used like nouns. They all end with 'ing.'"

"Excellent, Drew," the short teacher said. "So, how about some examples? Let's see." She drew a finger down Mrs. Keaton's list. "Mr. Phil Cohen - care to try?"

The class comedian looked nonplussed, to say the least, not being prepared as usual. Drew felt bad for him and signaled Callie with her eyes - a silent plea for her to help him out. Callie nodded and leaned over to Phil.

"Use a verb that ends with 'ing.' Get it?" Callie whispered to him sotto voce. "I-N-G."

Phil paused and looked at Callie. Callie could practically see the rusty gears finally turning over in the guy's head. And like the proverbial light bulb switching on, his face lit up.

"How 'bout this, Ms. Cabot," Phil said and turned to Drew.

"I can't help falling in love with you, babe," Phil said in a ridiculous Elvis Presley voice.

Everyone laughed and Drew stuck her tongue out at him.

"Very good, Phil. Anyone else want to try?"

One of Phil's buds raised a hand.

"Yes, Mr. Hooper?"

"Kissing you is my greatest dream," Biff Hooper said, and made kissy faces at Drew.

"Hmmm. I guess that works. Let's move on to..."

Another of Phil's buddies, Brian Conrad, raised his hand.

"How 'bout this," Brian said, "I betcha you haven't tried making love to a real man before, huh, babe?"

Ned Nickerson, one of the football team's offensive tackles was noticeably getting steamed. Everyone knew he was stuck on Drew, and these tacky innuendoes on her were starting to grate.

Drew noticed it, too, so she tried to diffuse the tension. She raised her hand.

Ms. Cabot sighed and bowed to the inevitable. "All right. Yes, Drew?"

Drew stood. "If you guys don't stop," she said menacingly, looking at the three, "I will start taking offense, and will be hitting you blockheads with a two-by-four later after class!"

Everyone started laughing and, as she intended, it diffused the gathering tension. She glared at the three guys for good measure, and it did her slightly-offended pride some good when she saw the three of them gulp nervously. No one had been able to get away with anything with Drew so far since she started going to school here, which paradoxically made her hotter in the boys' eyes.

Ms. Cabot made a patting-down gesture. "All right, class, settle down. Thank you, Drew. So I take it everyone knows what gerunds are now?" After some assents from the class, Ms. Cabot nodded. "Now, everyone, except for the three of you," she gestured at Phil, Biff and Brian, "is to write a short composition of at least twenty-sentences, with at least ten examples of gerunds."

She gestured at the three. "You three are going to the principal's office, and are to stay put until I get there." Phil was about to protest, but Ms. Cabot made a cutting-off gesture. Despite being new and tiny, she had an air of toughness that made everyone respect her.

"Have Ms. Sato text me when you get there. Okay? Now, go." The three picked up their stuff and dejectedly left for the principal's office.

"As for the rest of you - start writing."

Everyone knuckled down and started on their writing.

Drew sighed. Just another typical day in school, she thought.

-----

Most of the day was sort of like that, although, with Callie in her sexy librarian outfit and Iola in her cheerleader finery, most of the typical innuendoes toward Drew were a lot diffused since there were three of them instead of just her. At lunchtime, Callie changed into her uniform and Drew walked the two to the school bus that was bringing the cheerleaders and some of the school staff to the away game that afternoon (most of the team rode in the other bus).

The rest of the afternoon went as it usually did, and Drew was able to get through it just fine.

After her final class, Drew went to her locker chatting with some of her other friends. As usual, there were a few guys trying to put the moves on her, but she didn't worry too much about them. Guys around girls, and girls around guys, have already been demystified for her (having been on both sides of the fence now) and she could usually manage such encounters without consciously thinking about it. What she was having trouble with though was how she should behave around girls.

It was three o'clock, so that gave her time to begin her research before she had to do her "special shopping."

She drove to Riverdale in the Bronx, often having to consult her little GPS app since it was the first time for her to be in that neighborhood.

Riverdale was about thirty miles away, and it took her about an hour to get there. It was a fairly affluent residential enclave in the city right next to the Hudson River, and she was charmed by its quaint, turn-of-the-century suburban feel, especially around the Riverdale Historic District (although, she smiled to herself, she doubted the people who lived back then when the neighborhood was new would have thought anything here historical, or recognized the term "suburb").

She drove around as slowly as she dared - slow enough that she could look over the house numbers but fast enough that the police wouldn't take undue notice.

Though she kept her eye out for houses with "43" street addresses, she had some trouble.

It was getting late, and the sun was getting low in the sky when she finally hit pay dirt. She turned onto another street - this one had a little more run-down look than the well-manicured ones of the other streets she had driven through. Actually, it wasn't bad looking at all except that there were more fallen leaves on the sidewalk, and the trees looked a little shaggier. The impression could actually be caused by her imagination since it was a little darker now, and she couldn't see the street like she did earlier - everything looked a touch gloomier and foreboding.

Anyway, she noticed house number 43, and it was on her side of the street. She pulled over, turned on her blinkers and pulled out the picture from the clock, still in its Ziploc bag.

The house was just at the intersection, and looked about the same as in the picture, but to be sure, she held the picture up and compared. Yep, except for the differently-trimmed trees, the closed garage, and a more weathered look and dingier paint job, this was the same house. "Finally," she sighed.

She also noticed a for-sale sign, but it was a little weathered so she assumed it had been there for a while and there hadn't been any takers. She tried to see if anyone was home but no one seemed to be around, and she didn't actually want to knock since she hadn't really thought through what she should say.

Besides, she rationalized, it was pretty late for strangers to come calling, and she decided to come back another day. She noted the exact address, #43 Merrimack Street, took some pictures with her smartphone and put all her stuff away. At least now she had an address to use to start tracing people.

Okay, one more chore to do, she sighed to herself: Time to do her shopping.

-----

The first thing she did after that trip to Riverdale was to go to an ATM and make a giant (for her) withdrawal of four thousand dollars with her new card (her dad had made arrangements to change her limit to four thousand). Afterwards, she started looking for a gas station with a bathroom. Finding one, she parked, got her duffel and went into the bathroom where she pulled on the sweater over her dress, modified her makeup into a tackier style, and put the wig on.

She then went to that little specialty boutique she went to on her first solo trip (it was technically in New Jersey, but it was only an hour away by car, actually), with the intent of buying gaffs to supplement what she already had at home.

She knew she'd be wearing gaffs a lot of the time now. So she had to buy enough so that she wouldn't need to buy any more for a while. She went to the display she remembered from before and got ten white gaffs and five each in powder blue, powder pink, pastel yellow and pastel green, three each in red, in ivory and in black - all in a regular high-cut style. She also got the same number and colors in a g-string style, as well as in thong (the difference between g-strings and thongs was minor but she knew the thong type was for more sporty activities, and she thought she might need that), and the same number and colors in full-panty styles. All in all, she got a hundred and fifty-six, practically buying up most of the store's stock in gaffs in her size. The bill's total came to a staggering two thousand nine hundred dollars (that already included the volume discount).

She thought a bit and got an additional forty - ten in each style, in nude (or "invisible" as some of the packages called the color), bringing her haul to a hundred and ninety-six gaffs, and a total bill of a little under three thousand seven hundred dollars... OMG.

The store was empty at the moment, and the clerk at the cash register was different from the one Drew remembered, thank God, so the clerk didn't recognize her and no one else saw her. Even though she was in disguise, she was glad about that. The clerk probably wanted to ask why she needed so many gaffs but didn't know how. Drew didn't bother to explain, paid quickly, in cash no less, and got out right away.

The underwear filled seven big, plain bulging plastic bags and Drew struggled with them a bit, as well as with her purse, as she walked down the sidewalk. She regretted parking so far away, and it took her more than ten minutes of brisk walking before she reached her blue Opel.

With a tired huff, she dumped all of the bags in the boot, taking out her big duffel to make room.

This number of underpants should last her for the rest of the year, she thought, maybe even ten years, and the selection of colors and styles guaranteed she'd have something to match any conceivable outfit, occasion or situation. Which meant no one would see her buying such things at such... unusual places anymore, and thereby keeping her identity and her dad's out of jeopardy. She knew that her size might change, but she thought it better to take that small chance rather than risk someone breaking through her disguise.

As she drove back home, she spotted a Shell gas station. She parked in the parking area for the little Select store near the bathrooms, quickly got out and went inside. Quickly, she doffed the wig, fluffed and combed her real hair back into place, changed back to her original makeup and took off her sweater, which changed her back to her original outfit from school.

She was out of there in eight minutes flat.

By the time she was done and was back home, it was past nine. Dad was upstairs in his room so she was able to get all her stuff inside without him seeing, and probably getting weirded out by the stuff she bought. She dumped the bags of underwear on her bed, and her school bag and other stuff on her desk. She thought a bit and decided to stow all the bags under her bed instead.

She went to her dad's room and knocked on the door.

"Dad?" she called.

"Come in!" her dad answered and she walked into his room.

She found him at his desk working.

"How'd your day go today?" Drew asked, leaning down and giving her dad a kiss on the cheek - a gesture which was automatic by now, and neither of them were weirded out by it anymore. Truth was, she liked kissing her dad hello now.

"Well," Carson answered, "I went to Frank Hardy this morning, and it seems he was already prepared for my request. I guess he and Dave already thought of this eventuality. Here you go." Carson handed her two bankbooks and ATM cards, as well as a couple of credit cards. One of the credit cards was a Citibank MasterCard gold picture card (it had one of the cute pictures of her that they had taken against a neutral blue background soon after they had recovered from their plastic surgeries), and the other one was an Amex Clear Card.

"Those are all backstopped, as Frank calls it, with up to five thousand dollars credit limit each, meaning they're safe to use, and they all have long credit transaction histories which will stand up to any kind of scrutiny."

She nodded and then turned her attention to the bankbooks.

I didn't know bankbooks were still in use, Drew thought. She didn't even know anyone who had bankbooks except for Marie. She opened both and each had several pages worth of bogus but safe transactions in there, going back more than four years, mostly withdrawals and department store payments. One was a Northfield Savings Bank book (and matching ATM card), and it had a balance of a little over fifty thousand! There were a lot of entries there, with only half of the pages remaining blank. "Guess this is supposed to be my regular account," Drew thought. "My current ATM card only has fifteen... Well, eleven now, after my withdrawal earlier. And that's all the money I have in the world. Or had... Hmmm... now I have an extra fifty thousand. Now, what can I buy with fifty thousand?" Drew giggled to herself.

The other was a Bank of America bankbook and matching ATM card. She looked at the fancier little pocketbook, and only the first page had any entries. Looking at the balance, she gasped.

"Seven hundred and seventy thousand?" She looked up at her dad. "All that is mine?"

Smiling a little, Carson shrugged. "Sure. I'll have to co-sign any single withdrawal or payment above five thousand until you turn eighteen, but sure, it's yours."

She looked at her dad a little skeptically. "You're trusting me with over eight hundred and twenty thousand dollars... Are you high or something?" I'm almost a millionaire now, she thought. OMG!

Carson laughed, but stopped himself abruptly when he saw her serious expression.

"Two things, Drew," he said. "First is that I trust you with all of this money. You've more than earned my trust. But, second, this is my hedge against anything happening to me. That, if I... go away... you'll have enough to keep you afloat for a while. So you better take care of this little nest egg, okay?"

"Stop talking like that," she said.

"Another thing - I've finished the process to get you emancipated. All that's needed is an appearance in court, and your signature."

"Stop it!" she said, and started to cry.

"I'm sorry. This'll be the last time, I swear."

Drew gave him a hug. "It won't come to that, Dad," Drew sniffed.

Carson grabbed a few tissues and handed them to her.

"Stop it, you crybaby," he said gently. Drew stuck her tongue out at him, and then wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"Oh, by the way, no more allowances - you manage your own money now."

Drew made a face at that, but she expected it.

Trying to change the topic, Carson showed her the other stuff he had. Carson had a couple of bankbooks and ATM cards, too, as well as Amex, Citibank, Standard Chartered and Bank of America credit cards. He showed her all the paperwork, which he kept in a little safe (this was one of two small, conventional safes he had just bought from Best Buy that afternoon, which were totally unlike the one they had hidden in the kitchen. He kept this new safe at the bottom of his closet). The paperwork he showed her basically said that everything would become hers if something were to happen to him. She also saw a sealed envelope typed with the title, "last will and testament," but she pushed it down into the pile, not even wanting to read it.

He also gave her the other safe, still in its corrugated-cardboard box, and he suggested she keep her bankbooks, valuables and other important documents in there. Drew nodded.

Carson then started to explain the other stuff he did.

"I emailed my comprehensive resume to that headhunter Brad recommended at lunchtime today, for the three companies," (he gave Drew a look, and she knew which companies they were), "as well as for five law firms. I got a return email a couple of hours later. I was surprised at the quick reply, to say the least, but apparently there was a certain company that desperately needed someone with my exact background and qualifications right away." Carson grinned and winked at her. Drew understood, and giggled.

"Anyway, I'm scheduled for a couple of interviews, the first one is tomorrow, actually, at ten, downtown."

"Downtown New York City?"

"Yes. Anyway, it's for a position in their legal department, and if I pass, they want me to start right away." Carson mentioned the name, and it was one of the three companies in Drew's shortlist.

The two of them looked at each other. So. Finally, it starts. Drew nodded in silent acknowledgement of that fact.

"So, twenty-four-seven, Drew. For real."

Drew nodded soberly. "Sure."

They both thought what that meant for them. They'd actually been behaving that way, more or less, for three months, but now, breaking out of character even momentarily couldn't be allowed anymore.

Carson cleared his throat to break the mood. "So...," he said. "How about you? Made any progress on your mystery?"

Drew told him about her trip to Riverdale, and the house she found.

"It's still there," she told him, and showed him the pictures she took of the house with her phone.

"That's great. What's your plan now?"

"Haven't thought of it much. I guess I have to find out who owns the house, and maybe try to associate it to the name 'Marlee' and all that."

"Great."

"Listen, I'm famished. You want me to cook us something?"

Carson looked horrified. "You? Cook?"

Drew slapped his shoulder.

"You're mean!"

Carson pulled her into a hug - a gesture that would have been awkward four months earlier, but now, it seemed like an automatic thing.

"Just joking. I'll just go down and warm up the pork chops I made earlier, and finish off the baked potatoes."

"Okay, I'll..." She stooped down and tried lifting her new safe, grunting at the weight. "I'll just put this in my room..." She managed to lift it on her second try and staggered to her room with the safe.

Carson chuckled. He knew better than to offer to help, so he just went down to the kitchen to finish up his cooking instead.

Copying her dad, she put the safe at the bottom of her closet. She read the instructions and set her own six-digit combination, deposited her new bankbooks in there as well as some papers. She read the instruction sheets that went with her new ATM and credit cards, memorized the default passwords for each, and put the instructions in the safe as well. She'd change the passwords later. After putting her new cards in her purse, she thought a bit, dug in her dresser and put her mom's brooch and other trinkets from her past life that her Dad didn't know she kept in the safe as well. She looked at the little keepsake locket that her friend Bess had given her in her previous life, and inside was a picture of her as Andy Fayne, and her friends Bess and George, and on the other side a picture of her dad as Bill Fayne.

She thought about it and, in the end, she decided to keep it as well. This was a risk, and was against the rules, but she couldn't bear to get rid of it and the other little keepsakes. She put it in with her mom's brooch.

She then went through her entire new supply of underwear, unpackaged them and carefully cut off the tags that identified them as "gaffs" instead of lingerie, panties or just plain underwear, or had unusual brand names on them. A hundred-plus panties took a lot of doing but she finished them all, packing all the little tags she had cut out and the cardboard and plastic wrappings into one of the shopping bags. She put away all the underwear (she was able to put all of them in the bottom drawer of her big dresser), keeping them underneath a layer of more conventional regular panties, and resolved to circulate through all of them so that she wouldn't wear any of them out too quickly.

She then picked up the plastic bag full of gaff tags and plastic wrapping, and went downstairs.

Before she got to the kitchen, she remembered the RF scanner and detoured to the living room. She went directly to their fancy Bose home entertainment system setup and looked over everything. On the bottom-most rack, which was below their Bose amp and equalizer, was their new Harman amp. She looked over the wiring at the back and found that her dad had it wired up to the DVR, the speakers, the big Panasonic flat-screen TV, and the Roku. She wondered how it worked.

She looked at the new amp's front panel in detail, and found that her dad had a tiny little latch screwed unobtrusively to the upper left corner of the panel - if a person didn't know to look for it, she wouldn't find it. She unhooked the latch and the front panel swung down on a newly installed hinge. It seems her dad had artfully squeezed in the RF scanner into the inside of the Harman, and was able to preserve the Harman's wiring, moving them to the right of the amp's insides, leaving sufficient room for the RF scanner.

With the amp's panel hanging down, Drew found that she could turn the scanner on and work it's own little panel. She turned it off and closed the amp's panel, latching it closed.

Experimentally she turned the Harman amp on, and the amp's controls lit up. Cool.

After fiddling with the setup, she found that her dad had rigged it so any user could switch to either of the new amps at will by operating the DVR, TV or Roku controls. She turned on the TV to a random cable channel and switched the TV's audio output to the new Harman amp, switched the amp on, and found that the sound was pretty adequate. She then switched to the original setup's Bose amp and found the sound better and richer, but not by much. Pretty great!

She went to the side table near the office and got one of the markers her dad kept there for writing notes. She used that to color the aluminum-colored latch black, and hid the scratches that dad made on the amp's finish. The latch was now totally unnoticeable against the black finish of the amp.

Coolness.

She then picked up the odds and ends she brought from her room and proceeded to the kitchen. She didn't speak but signed to her dad, and jiggled the bag of stuff in the air.

Not understanding, Carson gestured with his palm up and shrugged.

Sighing, Drew took the stove lighter and mimed setting the bag on fire. Her dad finally got it and gave her a high sign. She went out, hunted up the slightly charred old plywood sheet her dad had used before and burned up the wrapping and tags.

Afterwards, they sat down to an excellent salad-and-pork chop-and-baked-potato dinner, and talked about nothing more important than school stuff and her dad's upcoming interview. All innocuous stuff. Just like a real family.

After dinner, when her dad was watching TV while she washed and dried the dishes (she volunteered - after all, Dad was the one who cooked), she was thinking, "... just like a real family? What the hell, we ARE a real family!" She smiled and hummed as she cheerfully finished with the dishes.