Tawny felt like a huge weight had been lifted now that Maddie was in the know. By not telling her friend, it was like she was holding her breath underwater, unable to come up for air.

But now that the air had been cleared, she could let the cool, healing oxygen enter her lungs again, and she felt at peace.

Or, at least as much peace as she could with her current sentence of servitude. But considering that Maddie forgave her and she still had free lodging at the McCurdys, life could be much worse.

One Saturday, as the Dylantantes stood in a line for morning roundup, Madam Fraus stopped in front of both Audrey and Tawny, frowning.

"You two," she barked. "With me. NOW."

The two girls followed Madam Fraus as she walked at a brisk pace down the austere halls of Westinghouse Manor.

"What do you think this is about?" whispered Tawny.

"No clue," Audrey whispered back. "Perhaps she got wind that I was going to plant a cherry bomb in the Teachers Lounge at Ivoree Gates the next time we were on Dylan duty."

"What?!" Tawny whispered loudly, worried her reaction would be overheard by the stern woman in front of them. Fraus was far enough ahead, however, that she was unaware of their conversation.

"I was bored," was Audrey's justification. "Sometimes you gotta inject life with its own little pleasures, makes it more worth living."

"I see," Tawny wasn't sure she entirely subscribed to Audrey's logic, especially if it was the reason they were being taken aside now. She especially didn't like her imagination taking her to Professor McCurdy potentially being the victim of such a stunt...

At last, they arrived at their destination. Madam Fraus rapped her knuckles loudly against the heavy wooden door, then twisted the door knob, opening it in one fluid motion.

"I have the bodies you requested, Madam," announced Madam Fraus. The room was a grand dining room, complete with high ceilings and a massive banquet table, the largest Tawny had ever witnessed in her life.

Standing on one side of the table was Sarah Westinghouse, dressed in sophisticated, stylish clothing. On the other side of the table leaned Dylan, wearing a leather bomber jacket and blue jeans and looking every bit like a rich rebel without a cause. Though they were only a couple feet apart, separated by the table, it likely would have taken several minutes for either of them to travel the distance needed to get to the other side.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

At the foot of the table was a plush swivel chair, whose back was facing the door. Upon the girls' arrival, the chair swiveled, revealing Maddie in her understated civvies (given that it wasn't a school day).

"Tawny!" she said excitedly.

"No way!" Tawny was so excited she forgot she was still technically on duty and ran to her friend for a hug.

"That will be all, Fraus, thank you," said Sarah. Fraus gave a single nod and closed the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Tawny asked. With all the craziness that had happened in the previous semester, she thought she would never see Maddie set foot in the Westinghouse Manor.

"I requested her," said Dylan. Tawny's eyes widened in surprise. "Both of you," he added, gesturing recognition of Audrey as well.

"Dylan said he was impressed with the teamwork and collaboration you three demonstrated the other day," explained Sarah. "He said it would be wise if you all worked together to help with our project. It's a big task, so it's all hands on deck."

"Dylan..." Tawny said, touched by the unexpected gesture.

"Yeah, yeah," cut in Dylan. "Let's not get all sappy. We need to focus on the matter at hand."

"Right," said Sarah, who then turned to look at the non-Westinghouse attendees. "The anniversary date is in a couple of weeks, so we don't have much time to pull it off. I've already went through the preliminary phone call to Father; he's confirmed that he can be here for dinner."

"I dunno," sighed Dylan. "The amount of times he's flaked on me and didn't show on my birthday. I feel like we need more than to take him at his word."

"Well, that's why we're going to sweeten the deal," replied Sarah. "We're going to create all his favourite dishes, sourceD from all over the world, and have them served to him in here, like a mini-Thanksgiving."

"Umm..." Tawny raised her hand.

"Yes?" asked Sarah.

"It's just that...I like the bones of the idea," began Tawny. "But if you're trying to emulate the feeling of Thanksgiving, this room is not a good choice. Thanksgiving means togetherness and closeness. This table is the size of a football pitch. The whole space is cavernous."

"Not to mention the table's got the same intercom system from Coming to America," quipped Audrey.

"Right," said Tawny. "What I'm trying to say is....this room is actually too big to achieve what you're trying to accomplish.

Sarah stared back in silence for a moment. "Okay..." she said slowly. "I think I understand what you mean. I had never considered the size of this room to be a hindrance. But now that you've mentioned it, perhaps a more intimate room would be suitable..."

"See," Dylan said. "I told you her insight would be useful. It's like having a poverty consultant: helps to see things with different eyes,"

Oh my God, Tawny thought, mortified. That's why I was summoned?

"Then it's settled, said Sarah. "I will find a smaller room to host the dinner, and we'll fill it with all of Father's favourite dishes. And to sweeten the deal, we'll also invite the McCurdys. The two of them are excellent conversationalists, and Father's quite fond of Rebecca."

The McCurdys will be here, too? Tawny felt herself sweat at the prospect.

"Maybe let's head for the war room," suggested Sarah. "There's a whiteboard in there. We need to hammer out every single aspect of when Father comes home. This needs to be perfect."

As all the girls made their way for the door, Dylan, who was on the side of the table farthest from the door, sat on the table and swiveled his way around so that his legs made it to the opposite side.

"Yeah, I can appreciate what you mean about the table," Dylan said. "If I were to do that in front of Father, he'd blow a gasket."