After Tawny was dried up, she followed Sarah Westinghouse into another room in the manor, containing a projector. Tawny sat on one of the plush loveseats as Sarah positioned herself along the wall, next to the projector display.

"Thank you again for agreeing to help with this," said Sarah, smiling.

"You're...welcome?" To be honest, Tawny didn't recall agreeing to anything, but she deemed it unwise to argue with a Westinghouse. Instead, she asked, "What is it, exactly, that I'm agreeing to?"

Sarah blinked. "Are you not familiar with the Westinghouse family legacy?"

Tawny slowly shook her head.

"Ah," Sarah said. "No matter - this presentation I've created should serve as a primer. Lights!"

As if by magic (but more likely it was voice-controlled), the lights dimmed as though Tawny were about to watch a movie. In the next second, the wall behind Sara illuminated with a still black-and-white image of a wealthy family standing in front of Ivoree Gates.

"This is the Westinghouse family. Emigrated from Europe in the 16th century, my family line is one of the wealthiest, most influential in all of the United States. Ivoree Gates is a huge benefactor of our success, having opened in 1811, backed in no small part by a generous donation from my great-great grandfather, Silas Westinghouse."

Sarah clicked the slide advancer in her hands, and the image changed to a more contemporary, colour photograph of a family of four in front of the Westinghouse manor.

"And this..this is the Westinghouse family, present-day."

Tawny regarded the photo. In it, there stood a little girl in a pink dress in the front, her hands dutifully in front of her. Behind the girl, an infant boy swaddled in a blue blanket was held by a beautiful slender woman in a long, light green gown. Next to her stood proudly a well-dressed man in a suit.

Sarah paused and sighed wistfully; after wiping her eyes briefly, she advanced to the next slide.

"This is our target - my father, Bryce Westinghouse."

In this new photo, Bryce looked much older, and as he appeared to Tawny when she spied him talking to Dylan the other day. His hair was grey and he sported a well-trimmed beard. The light in his eyes looked extinguished and the smile on his face from the previous image was long gone. He looked tired, defeated.

"My father hasn't been the same since the untimely death of my mother, Lillian, when I was only 7 years old. She was gunned down, brutally murdered, in a terrorist attack in a library overseas. My brother Dylan was with her, and just a baby at the time. Miraculously, he survived."

"I'm....I'm sorry," was all Tawny could say, aghast at the revelation. For months, Tawny tried to figure out why Dylan acted like he had a chip on his shoulder, and Sarah dispelled the horrifying mystery in less that 20 seconds.

Almost impatiently, Sarah waved off Tawny's condolences. "Oh...please, no...don't do that. As long as I can remember, that's been how people greeted me. Instead of 'So nice to meet you', it's been 'Sorry for your loss'. Trust me, I'm over it. I've had 20 years to get over it."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Sarah advanced the slide again, showing Bryce, a slightly older Sarah, and a toddler-aged Dylan holding his sister's hand. All three stood close together, morosely in front of gravestone adorned with flowers. Tawny found it striking how the photo was framed, as though to capture every bit of grief within the still image.

"This was taken as a feature spread in a magazine," said Sarah, as if reading Tawny's mind. "For the 1st anniversary of my mother's passing. The attack was a huge deal, all over national news. But even as the public forgot, we never did."

Sarah clicked the advancer rapidly, going through a series of images that appeared as a time-lapse, showing the family getting progressively older, but also standing further and further apart.

"That is..." in the last photo, Dylan and Sarah were standing as far apart as they could, with the tombstone between them, their backs facing each other. Bryce was nowhere to be seen in the photo.

"What happened?" Tawny asked.

"The tragedy tore us apart," Sarah said matter-of-factly. "It got to the point where my father could no longer stand to be around here, around us, or the memories. He spent more and more time away and now we would only see him at birthdays or around Christmas.

Sarah clicked the slide advancer one more time, and the screen went dark, indicating the end of the presentation. "That's where you come in."

"Me?" said Tawny.

"Yes, you. I'm going to break this vicious cycle. I'm going to invite him to come home for a dinner in honour of the 15th anniversary of my mother's death. And from there, I'm going to convince my father to come back to us, for good this time. It's foolproof."

Tawny was nonplussed. "Sarah, I'm flattered that you would choose me to help you enact your plan. I just have to ask...why me?"

Though the light was dim in the room, Tawny could tell Sarah was looking her square in the eyes. "Because my brother recommended you."

Suddenly, the lights came back on, illuminating the space so rapidly that Tawny had to squint.

"You're late," Sarah said, coolly.

Tawny turned her head to the door; there, Dylan was standing, his hands moving from the light switch. He approached Tawny on the loveseat. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Tawny nodded, still processing in stunned silence the knowledge that Dylan had asked for HER specifically. Tawny - the pauper! "Thank you," she said. "For earlier..."

Dylan nodded in acknowledgment. "Sure," he sat on the loveseat, not right beside her, but on one of the arms of the furniture.

"As I was saying...." continued Sarah, sounding mildly annoyed. "You were highly recommended, Tawny. I have the utmost faith that we can count on you to help fulfill our task in bringing our father home for good."

Dylan scoffed.

"Do you have something to add?" Sarah added, sounding increasingly agitated.

"Yeah, you're one to talk," said Dylan. "You complain about Dad being missing in action, but you're just as guilty."

"I was in school," said Sarah. "I was taking classes overseas."

"But you didn't have to go so far!" snapped Dylan. "You chose to go far away. Even after Dad started disappearing. I needed you, but all you cared about was yourself and jet-setting all across the globe."

Sarah whipped the slide advancer, hitting Dylan square in the forehead and startling Tawny.

"Asshole!" Sarah yelled and went for the for door. As she passed the sofa, she placed a light hand on Tawny's shoulder. "I'll keep in touch with more specifics of the plan, okay?"

"That hurt..." muttered Dylan in his hands as he held them to his injured forehead.

"Good!" was all Sarah said as she left the room.

When Sarah was gone, Tawny closed the distance between her and Dylan. "Oh, my God - are you alright?"

"I'm fine..." Dylan said, but as he lowered his hands, Tawny could the blood oozing from a cut just above his left eyebrow.

"She got you good...I think you need to go to the hospital."

"No hospital," said Dylan adamantly. "I just need stitches..."

"Which require medical attention at a hospital!" insisted Tawny.

"There's gotta be someone on these godforsaken grounds who could do a quick stitch..."

"I'll take you to Audrey, she'll know what to do," said Tawny. She grabbed Dylan's hand and led him out of the room, hoping her new friend was nearby and could use a thread and needle.