Sam thought she was “wife” number seven. Then again, maybe she was “wife” number eight. Or nine or ten. “Remember this, we’ll all end up dealing with the Prizzi law firm. They won’t go easy on any of us.” She looked at her watch. It said 11:45. “I’m tired. We have two days until Douglas goes out with his mother for their weekly Thursday night dinner. Let’s meet at my house tomorrow and spin this a little more before we make a final decision.” For the newcomers, she wrote out her address on paper napkins and handed them around the table.

“Okay,” Joey said, getting up from the table. “I made the reservation at Panella’s last week, so if it’s a go, we’re set. If not, I cancel, and we fall back and regroup. I have ten days left on my leave, so I’m at your disposal.” He winked at Olivia, who offered up a megawatt smile.

Sam moved toward the door. Alpha was on his feet in an instant.

An hour later, Sam was in bed. Sam cried then, for the would haves, the could haves, the should haves. Now she had to start her life all over again. Not because she failed but because someone else had made the decision to banish her for his own personal reasons. She cried harder, her tears drowning the image of Pappy’s face behind her lids. Alpha, at the foot of the bed, whined softly.

Kollar Havapopulas scrolled through the messages stored in his Blackberry at furious speed as he tried to make sense of what he was reading. In the end he threw his hands in the air and stalked to the kitchen, where his father was baking bread no one was going to eat. He waited patiently with a cup of coffee until his father slid the loaves of bread into the oven and washed his hands.

“Take a look at this, Pop. Tell me what you make of it.”

Kyros read the blizzard of messages and shrugged. “Old friends meeting after a long time? They all went out to dinner, even Alpha. Apparently Kayla had a ‘brother’ of some kind, even if your folder on her had no record of his existence. So he came to see her. Happens sometimes, though it’s usually the sister who arranges the meeting. So what if they rented the restaurant for the evening? People do that for reunions so they have privacy. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing, son?”

“I’ve graduated ten classes from this mountain, Pop. Nothing like this has happened in those ten years. You know we monitored those classes. None of them banded together like this. They all went their separate ways, not wanting to spend any more time with each other than was necessary. And notice that it’s only Team Three, not Team Five. My gut tells me they’re cooking something up.”