Previously…
– Landon accompanied Sarah to Idaho on a spur-of-the-moment mission, where Landon managed to obtain security camera footage that led to a significant lead in tracking down Sonja and TJ.
– Before leaving for Idaho, Landon asked Tori out to dinner, but she was interrupted by a work call before she could give him a solid response.
– Rosie gave Travis her blessing to visit Gabrielle at Molly and Brent’s house. When he did, Gabrielle called him “Daddy” and fell asleep in his arms.
– Loretta Ragan was released on prison while awaiting trial.

“Dude. It was crazy! She just handed over the security footage. I said I was this insurance guy and — bam. I still don’t know how it worked!”

Landon Esco bursts with excitement as he relays the tale of his impromptu investigative mission in Idaho. He stands in the kitchen of the Fisher home as he shares the story with Tori Gray. The sliding glass door that leads out to the deck is open, leaving only the screen door as a barrier between the kitchen and the outdoors, where the light trills of birds contribute to the peaceful air of this summer morning.

“I know my mom is super-grateful to you,” she responds. “Thanks for getting her there and back safely, too.”

His left shoulder climbs toward his ear and then falls back in a show of nonchalance. “I didn’t have anything else going on. And it was fun.”

“And you guys have a real lead on Sonja and TJ now. My Uncle Tim must be so happy.”

“I just hope it helps your mom track them down for real,” Landon says.

“I bet it will. It’s so weird I have this little cousin I don’t even know.”

He offers a cheerful smile. “You’ll get to meet him soon. Who knows? I might have to step in and help out some more.”

She laughs. “It’s really cool you were so willing to help out my mom like that. But I do have an unrelated question for you.”

“What’s that?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow in his typical melodramatic fashion.

“That, um, question you asked me before you and my mom took off,” she says. “About dinner.”

“Yeah…?”

“Is that invitation still good?”

Landon’s face immediately betrays his shock. It takes him a moment to gather his words.

“Is it still good? Of course it’s still good! You tell me what’s good for you, and we’ll make it happen.”

“Good.” She purses her lips, but a sweet sense of optimism shines through in her expression. “I’m glad you asked.”

“And I’m glad you brought it back up.”

They stand there, uncertain, looking at each other.

“I’m happy I have you in my corner, Landon,” she says, and then she abruptly pulls him into a hug.

Startled, Landon starts to wrap his arms around her, too, then abruptly pulls back.

“Uh, sorry,” Tori says with confusion.

“No, no. I just — I’ve been wearing the same clothes since we left for Idaho. It happened so fast I didn’t even pack a bag. So I don’t wanna…”

Letting out a laugh of relief, Tori playfully shoves him backward. “Maybe go home and shower and change, then.”

“I will. And then we’ll figure out this dinner,” he says, taking a step back while still staring moonily at her.

—–

Molly Taylor holds open the heavy glass front door of the salon so that her mother can step through it, then follows Paula inside. The vibrant, floral scents of expensive shampoo and beauty products waft through the air, mingling with the soft, hazy electronic music emanating from what is no doubt a state-of-the-art sound system. The two women step up to the reception desk, which is outfitted in crisp white Calcutta marble; behind it, skilled stylists work on clients in two rows of well-spread-out stations.

“Hi. My mother and I have appointments for our hair,” Molly tells the receptionist, a blonde 20-something who looks as though she spent hours getting ready for her shift.

“Great. Let me get you checked in,” the receptionist responds with more than a hint of vocal fry. “Mrs. Taylor, right?”

“That’s me, yes,” Molly says. “And this is my mom, Paula Fisher.”

The receptionist’s long pink nails clack away at her keyboard. “Great. It’s nice to see you both. It’ll be just a moment. You can have a seat over there while you wait.”

Molly turns to lead the way to the black leather benches against the wall, which is another giant slab of marble with gold lettering on it. Paula pauses, glancing around at the minimalist décor and artfully placed glossy magazines.

“What’s wrong?” Molly asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Paula says. “I usually don’t come to places this fancy, you know.”

“That’s why I brought you here. I want to treat you.” Molly takes a seat on the bench,  bringing her Hermes bag onto her lap to rest. “Besides, both of us could use a little rest and relaxation after the past several months.”

“Well, I’m very grateful for the invitation,” Paula says as she joins her daughter on the bench, though Molly notices how carefully her mother lowers herself down.

“You’ve been feeling okay?” Molly asks. “Taking your medications?”

“Diligently,” Paula assures her, though her expression grows darker at the memory of the heart attack she survived last fall. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Molly smiles warmly. “But I do. We all do. And I hope a little pampering helps you relax today.”

Paula is about to respond when she stops, mouth half-open, eyes frozen. It takes Molly a moment to realize that something has caught her mother’s attention, and she cranes her neck to see what it is. It is then that she spots an older woman in a jade-toned silk blouse and white linen trousers just inside the salon’s entrance. She wears a silk scarf over her hair and large designer sunglasses over her eyes.

Molly finds herself unable to form words.

“Well, well,” Loretta Ragan says as she removes the sunglasses. “It appears I’m just in time for some family bonding.”

—–

Rosie Jimenez sits at the round table in her mother’s kitchen, cradling the steaming cup of coffee that Juanita insisted on making for her despite the summer weather outside. Juanita settles in across from Rosie with her own piping-hot coffee, and her concerned eyes bore into her daughter, patient yet expectant. Rosie blows on the coffee, and wisps of white steam drift off into nothingness.

“I’m glad I have some time with you while Travis is at work,” Juanita says at last. “You’ve been so quiet since last night.”

Rosie sighs. She had resolved to be positive when Travis returned from visiting Gabrielle at Molly and Brent‘s house — and she thinks that she mostly achieved that. But she also knows that she has never been great at concealing her true mood, and if two people on this earth can recognize that, it’s her mother and her husband.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Rosie finally says. “I’m happy Travis went to see Gabrielle and that it made her happy. Really. It, like, breaks my heart to think about her being so confused and lonely there.”

Juanita responds with a slow, methodical nods and then asks, “But?”

Rosie smirks, not surprised that her mother intuited there was a but coming. “But it also sucks to hear that Travis was the one who could Gabrielle to settle like that, yet somehow we’re not fit to raise her.”

“It isn’t that you’re not fit,” Juanita says, leaning forward with insistence. “It’s that they are her parents. Biologically speaking. I hate that she’s not with you, too, mija. But we can’t change that.”

“No. I know.” Rosie’s gaze drops to stare at the nearly black surface of the coffee. She sees her own wobbly eye reflected back in its ripples. “It still sucks how unfair it feels. And…” She hesitates once more, pulling in a deep, weary breath.

“What is it?” Juanita asks.

“I’m jealous.” Rosie presses her palms even tighter against the mug, and the hot sting almost feels good. “Of Travis.”

“I see.” Juanita sips her own coffee as she thinks. “You could go with him next time. It sounds like Gabrielle wanted to see you, too.”

“And I wanted to see her! But I don’t know if I could handle it. Especially there, with Brent and Molly around. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him at work as it is.”

Juanita carefully sets down her coffee. “You have to do what’s best for yourself. Time does heal. Maybe you’ll feel like seeing her a few weeks from now.”

“Yeah.” Rosie feels her throat tightening as tears threaten her eyes. She takes a few additional, focused breaths in order to resist the onslaught. “None of this is fair. And I hate that no matter what I do, I’m doing something wrong.”

“You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“It always feels like I am. If I’m not open to seeing her, I’m spiteful. If I go see her and I’m not perfect, I’m crazy. It’s too much.”

“You have been through a lot,” Juanita says. “But you are strong. You and Travis are even stronger together. You’ll take this one day at a time and come out the other side wiser.”

“I really hope you’re right,” Rosie says, her tone almost wistful as she picks up the coffee and chances a cautious sip of the hot liquid.

—–

When Landon steps out of the Fisher house, he finds Sarah in the driveway, switching off the engine of her Jeep SUV.

“Sounds like that thing’s working again,” he comments as he comes down the concrete steps that connect the driveway to the front porch.

“Matt jumped it while we were gone. Good as new,” she replies, lowering herself out of the driver’s seat.

“I’m glad it wasn’t a bigger problem,” Landon says. “But it was kinda cool it worked out for me to go with you.”

Sarah nods, then closes the driver’s side door. “About that…”

His eyes pop with terror. “Are you upset I came in and pulled that whole bit about being from the insurance company? I just thought–“

“Upset? No. Not at all.” She offers a reassuring grin. “Have you ever thought about becoming a P.I., Landon?”

“Me? A P.I.? No!” He shakes his head. “Sure, a secret agent or a spy… but never a P.I. Why?”

“I think you might have the instincts for it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And I have a bigger client load right now than I can balance on my own,” Sarah explains. “I was thinking about something on your drive back.”

“Related to me, or about those donuts we had, or what?”

“Related to you. As in, how would you feel about doing an apprenticeship with me? I’d pay you by the hour based on client volume, and you could still pick up Uber-driving shifts whenever you needed.”

His jaw drops. “Mrs. Gray. That’s– that’s so–“

“You can call me Sarah, seriously,” she says. “How would you feel about doing an apprenticeship on a trial basis for, say, three months? Then we could evaluate how it’s going and see if it makes sense to keep going, and I could guide you toward getting your license if you were still interested.”

“Interested? Hell, yeah, I’m interested! Where do I sign?”

Sarah chuckles. “I need to clear my head, shower, take a nap, check in with my kids… then I’ll lay this all out in an e-mail for you to look over, and we can go from there. Sound good?”

“Sounds great!” he replies with enthusiasm. “Thanks, Mrs. Gr– uh, Sarah. I’ll keep an eye out for that e-mail.”

“I’ll get it over to you as soon as I can. Thanks again for all your help, Landon.”

“Thank you,” he says, backing toward the curb where his car is parked. “I’ll have my eyes on the ol’ inbox ready to read what you send over.”

“Perfect. I’ll talk to you soon, Landon.”

Sarah uses the remote control to lock the Jeep, then heads up the stairs back toward the house. Back on the curb, Landon pumps his fist, his face scrunched up with excitement.

—–

Loretta’s high heels clack against the salon’s floor as she approaches Molly and Paula, with a deliberateness that feels predatory.

Steeling herself, Molly forces herself to stand; she feels the need to meet Loretta on an even playing field, not have this awful woman looking down upon her and her mother. Paula takes the cue and follows suit.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asks through gritted teeth.

“It’s a free country, and I’m a free woman,” Loretta says with maddening breeziness.

“For now,” Molly says. “The courts should take care of that.”

Loretta’s hand flutters through the air dismissively. “Please. I’ll get those pesky charges tossed out so I can go back to living my life.”

Molly’s eyes flare wide. “Pesky charges? You switched my child at birth, told me she was dead, then kidnapped her and the woman who was raising her and left them to die.”

After a long, pointed glare, Loretta rolls her eyes. “Allegedly.”

Molly hears Paula inhale sharply through her nose, as if steadying herself. It crosses Molly’s mind that getting worked up could pose a danger to Paula’s health, especially in light of the heart attack that she suffered last year.

“I’m not going to get into this with you, Loretta,” Molly says. She turns back toward Paula and sees the exasperation in her mother’s face. Molly motions for her to sit back down. But, as she does so, she feels Loretta’s hand clutch her upper arm.

“That isn’t your decision to make,” Loretta hisses.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Paula says. “Molly brought me to get my hair done–“

“How lovely that you have the opportunity to spend such quality time together,” Loretta replies. “If only I could do that with my Philip. Unfortunately, he’s dead, thanks to the two of you.”

“Philip murdered my son and my husband,” Paula tells her through clenched teeth.

“Mom, try and stay calm,” Molly urges.

Paula wags her head side-to-side. “I’m not going to let this woman talk to us this way. Not after everything she’s done to our family.”

“You people have destroyed my family,” Loretta fires back. “Claire killed her own father without a second thought. Molly, you tore Philip down before your mother pulled the trigger herself. And that says nothing about Tim’s constant attempts to brainwash Spencer against me.”

“Philip was a psychopath,” Molly interjects. “Which is no wonder, considering who raised him.”

Loretta raises her hand and pulls it back. In that instant, Molly knows what is coming. She can already feel the anticipated crack of a palm against her face, but time is moving too quickly for her to dodge it.

But then something strange happens. Loretta’s hand freezes in midair — then falls.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction,” she says coldly.

The heavily styled receptionist appears at the front desk again and asks, “Mrs. Taylor, is there a problem here?”

The two Fisher women simply glare at Loretta.

“I’ve decided to take my business elsewhere,” Loretta says. “You can cancel my appointment. It’s under Ragan. I’d prefer to go someplace with a less tasteless clientele.”

She places the oversized sunglasses back on her face, as wisps of grayish hair with tinges of remaining red now stick out from beneath the scarf. Then she pushes open the glass door and departs.

Paula sighs. “The fact that that woman is running around free…”

“Just try and stay calm,” Molly says, despite her own thudding heartbeat. She watches Loretta retreat into a waiting black SUV, but even after the vehicle has pulled away, any sense of peace continues to elude her.

END OF EPISODE 1230

Were you surprised by Loretta’s relative restraint?
Will Landon find success working with Sarah?
Can Rosie work through these complex feelings?
Discuss it all in the comments below!

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