Previously…
– Brent was instrumental in rescuing Rosie and Gabrielle from the explosion at the old Moriani house. Although it was touch-and-go, he also survived his injuries from the rescue effort. 
– Loretta’s accomplice in kidnapping Rosie and Gabrielle, Eric Westin, died in the blast. 
– Rosie and Travis remained Gabrielle’s legal guardians, but Molly and Brent were desperate to reunite with the child they were told had died at birth.

The festive sounds of Celia Cruz’s “Feliz Navidad” fill the living room of the small green house. Cardboard boxes are scattered over the carpet, and the ornaments that are stored inside them for eleven months out of the year are in the process of being hung on the six-foot artificial tree in the corner of the room.

“Here, let me help you put that one up high,” Travis Fisher says as he lifts his daughter up from behind. Gabrielle giggles as her small hands try to loop the ornament’s hanger over a branch.

“I’ve got it,” Rosie Jimenez chimes in, swooping up beside her husband and adjusting the ornament so that it actually hangs from the tree. “Good work, Gabrielle!”

“Great job,” Travis tells Gabrielle as he gives her a kiss on the head and then places her down on the ground.

Juanita Jimenez stands nearby, holding a half-full box of ornaments. “Which one do you want next, Gabrielle?”

The little girl touches an index finger to her lips, then plops down on the carpet. Juanita laughs and places the box in front of her so that she can dig through it.

“It’s so nice to have the three of you here to decorate the tree this year,” Juanita says.

“It means a lot,” Rosie agrees.

As Gabrielle looks through the box, Juanita softly sways along to the music.

“What do you think, Travis?” she asks. “My favorite holiday album!”

Rosie rolls her eyes. “She has played this nonstop every December for as long as I can remember.”

“It’s the Queen of Salsa! Celia Cruz!” Juanita proclaims before shaking her hips. But her dance routine is interrupted by the piercing twang of the doorbell.

“I’ll get it,” Travis says, and he steps through the wood-framed doorway, rounds the staircase, and arrives at the front door. When he pulls it open, however, the Christmas music and holiday cheer in the living room seem to fade into oblivion.

“Aunt Molly. Hi,” he awkwardly says.

Molly Taylor stands outside the house in a herringbone coat with oversized lapels and a black belt cinched around her waist. 

“Hi,” Molly says after a moment. The single syllable is as tight and tense as her shoulders, which are practically pulled up into her ears.

The stare that vibrates between them seems to communicate all the things that their mouths do not say aloud.

“Sorry I haven’t texted you back,” he says at last. “I’ve been meaning to sit down with Rosie and look at our schedules…”

“It’s been days, Travis. Brent and I aren’t asking you to come over and watch a slideshow of vacation photos. We want to see our daughter.”

“And you will–“

“Yes, I will,” Molly says, taking a step toward him so that he reflexively moves out of the way and lets her into the house. “I’m going to see her right now.”

—–

Twinkling lights and ornate displays of red, green, and silver fill the store windows along Platz Street in downtown Kings Bay. Paula Fisher and Helen Chase stand outside the Objection boutique, looking over the mannequins in the shop’s window. 

“I wonder if Sophie would like that,” Helen comments as she points to a jumpsuit with a sparkly bodice and lilac-colored bottom that is on display.

“It looks a bit fancy, but then again, I can’t exactly keep up with all the trends,” Paula replies. 

“Maybe we should go inside and look around.”

“Maybe.” But Paula hesitates, even drawing out the end of the word, before adding, “I’m not sure if I should give the company my business, given everything that’s going on with Molly right now.”

Helen turns toward her and frowns. “I see your point. On the other hand, Samantha and Trevor do work there.”

“I know,” Paula says with a sigh. “But what the board and that Gia lady have done to Molly — it seems so unfair.”

“I think of it as karma,” a preening voice says, and both Paula and Helen swivel their heads to see Loretta Ragan standing there in a luxurious black coat that might or might not be real fur.

Paula’s hackles go up at the sight of the wicked redhead.

“It is unconscionable what you’ve done to my family,” she manages to say, even as a shiver of fear goes through her body.

Loretta narrows her eyes. “That’s rich, coming from the woman who shot my son to death in cold blood.”

Brent Taylor stands by the unattended nurses’ station just outside the Intensive Care Unit of the hospital. As he observes the foot traffic all around him — scrubs-clad medical professionals rushing back and forth with clear urgency — that it is a busy day in the ICU, but that doesn’t make his own needs feel less pressing. When he spots a familiar face stepping off the elevator, he beelines toward her.

“Brent,” Claire says, stopping in her tracks at the sight of him. She holds a clipboard in one hand and sports her own set of light-blue scrubs. “Is everything okay?”

“Far from it.” He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “I’m trying to get a status update on Rivera and Summers. The two–“

“–the officers who were in the Moriani house when it exploded,” she finishes for him. “I know.”

“Are there any updates on their conditions? The sooner I can get an official statement from either of them that they saw Loretta at that house, the sooner we can make a move on her.”

Claire bows her head. “Brent…”

“I know I’m not exactly your favorite person these days, but this is important,” he says. “For pretty much everyone we care about.”

“I thought you knew,” she says.

“Knew what?”

“Rivera was declared brain-dead yesterday.”

“What?!” Brent’s head spins. “How did I not know that?” Before Claire can respond, he answers his own question: “Because the detectives on the case are keeping me out of it.”

“There are a lot of conflicts of interest at play,” Claire replies.

He grunts, frustrated as much at being left out of the loop as he is about Claire being right. 

“What about Summers?” he asks. “Any improvement?”

She wags her head from side to side. “I’m afraid not. Still unresponsive.”

“Dammit.”

“I know.” Claire holds the clipboard to her chest. “Brent, I want to see Loretta locked up as much as you do. She has terrorized and traumatized our families for long enough.”

“Then we need Summers to wake up,” he says. “Because with Eric Westin dead and Rivera…” He trails off, still horrified at learning of his colleague’s fate. “We have to stop that monster before anyone else gets hurt.”

—–

With one hand still on the open door, Travis hesitates.

“If she’s napping, I’ll wait,” Molly tells him.

“She isn’t napping,” Travis concedes. “We’re actually putting up the Christmas tree.”

“Okay.” She folds her arms and waits until Travis closes the front door.

Defeated, he leads the way into the living room. Rosie and Juanita look up in alarm.

“Rosie. Hi. It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Jimenez.” 

The two women nod back at her. Rosie’s eyes cut toward Travis with confusion. Molly focuses in on Gabrielle, who is sitting on the floor, playing with a wooden nutcracker doll.

“Hi, Gabrielle,” Molly says softly. “Do you remember me?”

The little girl regards her with a scrunched face, then looks to Rosie for either insight or reassurance.

“This is your– um– this is Molly,” Travis says as cheerily as he can. “She came to visit you.”

“That’s a nice surprise, isn’t it?” Rosie comments through gritted teeth.

“I was hoping I could spend a little time with Gabrielle, that’s all,” Molly says. She strides into the living room and kneels down beside Gabrielle. “What’s that? A nutcracker?”

Travis feels the awkwardness in the room tightening around him like a vice grip. 

“Gabrielle is helping us take out all of Abuela’s decorations,” he says.

Rosie’s glare shoots daggers at Travis, and he feels his stomach twisting in anguish. Then, with a jerky movement, Gabrielle holds out the nutcracker toward Molly.

“For me?” Molly asks, clearly full of emotion. “Thank you.”

As Molly accepts the doll, Gabrielle stands up on her little legs. 

“Oh, you are such a sweet thing,” Molly tells her. “Can I have a hug?” Still holding the nutcracker in one hand, she opens her arms wide.

Gabrielle stares back at her. 

“It’s okay,” Molly says gently. But when she moves forward, Gabrielle suddenly lets out an ear-splitting wail. Molly recoils, as if physically wounded, while Rosie darts toward Gabrielle.

“Come here,” she says nervously to the crying child, quickly scooping her up in her arms.

Molly stands up, her face now devoid of color. “I’m so sorry…”

“It happens,” Travis says. Gabrielle continues to cry.

“She, um, she might be ready for her nap,” Rosie says. She pats Gabrielle’s back and holds her daughter close to her chest. “Come on, Gab. It’s all okay.”

“Maybe you should take her upstairs,” Juanita suggests from her position on the couch.

With a nod, Rosie moves out of the room. Looking absolutely forlorn, Molly stares after them as they go, with the sounds of Gabrielle’s crying echoing through the house.

—–

Outside the Objection boutique, Paula and Helen face down Loretta.

“Paula and I both understand how painful it is to lose a child,” Helen says. “That’s no excuse for the things you’ve done.”

“Funny you should say that,” Loretta replies. “Wasn’t the person holding that poor woman and child captive once an associate of yours, Mrs. Chase?”

Helen gasps at the mention of Eric Westin. 

“That– that was a situation that got very out of my control,” she says. “It was a long time ago. And Eric was the one who came up with the idea!”

Loretta sneers back at her. “To kidnap your own granddaughter so that you could wrestle custody away from your son-in-law? That hardly sounds like someone in a position to throw stones at me.”

Paula’s index finger juts out toward Loretta. “Leave my family alone. I know you had something to do with Rosie and Gabrielle’s kidnapping–“

“And what proof do you have of that?” Loretta interrupts. “Molly’s crackpot theories? I wouldn’t call her a beacon of sanity, let alone credibility.”

“Everything that has happened to Molly the last few years can be traced right back to you,” Paula says. “We know you’re the reason Gabrielle was taken from her in the first place.”

“Again, based on what evidence?” Loretta taps the toe of her high-heeled shoe against the pavement. “From where I stand, you’re all eager to find a scapegoat for a series of unfortunate incidents that have nothing to do with me.”

Loretta draws in a deep breath of the crisp air. When she breathes out through her nostrils, visible curls of grayish white appear.

“I still have plenty of Christmas shopping to finish for my grandson, Peter, so I’d best be going,” she says. “I’d urge both of you to take a long, hard look in the mirror this holiday season.”

Fuming, Paula and Helen watch Loretta stalk off down the street.

“It’s freezing out, and she still somehow made my blood boil,” Helen says.

“I know that she’s the one behind all this misery,” Paula says. “She helped Nick Moriani keep Tim away from us for years. She set up Jason so that he’d lose custody of Peter. She had Gabrielle taken from Molly. And it’s all because she blames my family for how she’s lost her husband and Philip.”

“Her precious Philip murdered your husband and son! Isn’t that enough?” Helen asks with outrage.

“You’d think.” Paula shakes her head. “But I’m afraid it will never be enough for her. That’s why someone has to stop that woman — and soon.”

—–

“I am so sorry about that,” Molly tells Travis and Juanita after they hear the bedroom door close upstairs. “I didn’t know…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Travis says. “She’s a little kid. You know how it is.”

Molly nods tersely, her lips pressing together.

“Here, I’ll show you out,” he offers, and without awaiting her response, he places a hand on her back to guide her to the front door.

As he pulls open the door, Molly turns toward him. “This is why I texted you to set up a visit. If you’d been able to make sure she had had her nap–“

“It’s not like we can really explain to her what’s going on,” Travis says. “She’s a kid. She’s going to react emotionally.”

“And I’m her mother,” Molly says, a little too forcefully. “I hate that you and Rosie are in this position as much as I hate that Brent and I are in it, but that’s the truth. We are Gabrielle’s parents.”

Travis remains silent for a long moment.

“We need to ease into this — whatever this is,” he finally tells her. “For all of our sakes.”

He sees Molly’s lips twitching as she formulates a response, but then, she steps through the doorway instead.

“I’ll be in touch very soon, okay?” she says. With that, she starts down the paved path leading from the house to the sidewalk.

Travis closes the door and then leans his back against it as he lets out an enormous sigh.

—–

Outside, Molly unlatches the front gate and exits the yard. Feeling the winter chill sting her nose and ears, she hurries to her car. She pulls the driver’s door closed and revels in the quiet and warmth for a few seconds before pressing the button to start the ignition.

As the vehicle’s systems come to life, Molly stares back at the green house. She can almost hear Gabrielle’s cries still emanating from within; all she wants is to rush back in there and console her daughter.

But she knows that she cannot do that, not right now, so she waits for the Bluetooth display to show on the large center display screen and then scrolls through her contacts until she finds a particular number and dials. The call rings only once before a female voice on the other end answers:

“Hello?”

“Hi, Elly,” Molly says as she puts the car in Drive and pulls away from the curb. “I need to meet with you and Conrad about beginning legal proceedings.”

END OF EPISODE 1161

Was it wrong of Molly to show up unannounced?
Will this custody dispute make it to court?
Who will be the one to take down Loretta for good?
Discuss all this and more in the comments below!

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