Previously…
– Claire relayed to Tim and Sonja that the hospital had identified a match who could donate bone marrow to TJ: Samantha.
– Natalie was thrown off-balance when she ran into Sonja, and even more so when Sonja suggested they be friends.
– Jason, Sabrina, and Sophie all submitted handwriting samples to the police, to be tested against the threatening note that was left alongside Courtney’s cut-up skating costume.

“It looks great in here,” Tim Fisher comments as he takes a seat on the pink velvet sofa that sits against the long wall in Diane Bishop‘s condominium. “It’s been so long since I was here. I like the changes you’ve made.”

Diane assumes a seat in a swivel chair upholstered in a soothing tan shade. “Thank you. I never really thought I’d live here forever, but… life happens, and now the thought of moving out of this place seems weirder than staying in it.”

“It’s your home,” Samantha Fisher says as she joins her father on the sofa. “It’s the only home I ever remember you having.”

Smiling, Diane folds her hands in her lap. “As much as I’d love to sit around and listen to you both compliment my interior design tastes, I have a feeling that isn’t why you wanted to come see me.”

“No,” Tim admits, as a brief but meaningful look passes between him and Samantha. “We have some news.”

Diane leans forward. “What kind of news? This seems ominous.”

“It’s not,” Samantha assures her. “It’s good, actually.”

A few seconds of silence pass, and then Diane blurts out, “Okay, then let me have it. What the hell is going on?”

“We identified a bone marrow donor for TJ,” Tim says.

Diane nods supportively, but then her eyes and mouth go wide as she focuses on Samantha. “It’s you?”

“Mm-hmm. They’re going to schedule the procedure as soon as possible. I just thought you should find out in person and not in a text or something.”

“I appreciate that,” Diane says, her tone suddenly more reserved.

Tim studies her carefully. “But…”

“I’m happy for TJ and you and even for Sonja,” Diane explains. “But I can’t support this.”

“What?” Samantha asks with shock.

“I can’t,” Diane says. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you subject yourself to a surgery that could be this dangerous for you.”

—–

“That’s impossible!”

Helen Chase stands backlit by the summer sun spilling in through the large windows in the breakfast nook of her and her husband’s home. She holds up both palms in exasperation as she looks back at Jason and Sophie Fisher.

“It was Courtney’s dress,” Jason insists, “or a really good facsimile.” He turns to Don Chase, who is seated in one of the wooden chairs at the breakfast table. “Do you remember that flamenco program Courtney and I did? With the red and black outfits?”

Don grimaces, as if doing the physical labor of sorting through old, disorganized files. Jason notices the way that his former father-in-law is hunched over slightly and feels a twinge of guilt for inflicting this pain upon Courtney’s parents, after all that they have endured. Yet he knows that the only way to solve what is happening to Sabrina is to ask these questions.

“I can’t say I remember specifically,” Don admits, with a quick, sad shake of his head.  “Maybe we have a videotape of it?”

“That’s part of why we came here,” Sophie says. “Dad looked through his stuff for an old tape but thought you guys might have them.”

“Those things are all up in the attic,” Helen replies, touching a hand to her chest. “I have it all very well organized. Don, you know how much time I spent up there getting things just so.”

“It’s true,” Don chimes in with a soft laugh. “It felt like you were up there for months.”

“I swear it’s the same dress,” Jason says. “Brent told us the tag had been cut out–“

“Courtney did always want the tags cut out of her costumes,” Helen interrupts with deathly seriousness.

“So whoever’s doing this either got the dress or knew enough to make an exact copy of it,” Sophie says. “They’re obviously psycho.”

Helen expels a heavy sigh. “I don’t understand. There can’t be that many people who would know all these details.”

“There was a lot of media coverage about Courtney,” Don reminds her.

“Well, there’s only one thing to do,” Helen says, slapping a hand down on the speckled granite countertop. “Let’s see what we can find upstairs.”

With Helen leading the way, Jason, Sophie, and Don all follow her up the stairs and down the second-story hallway. Jason finds himself pausing outside what was once Courtney’s childhood bedroom; prior to her death, Helen and Don converted it into more of a multi-use guestroom, but when Jason peeks through the doorway, he can still see so many memories from his and Courtney’s shared youth, as if the room still looked the exact same.

“I’m sure we can find that performance on a video somewhere,” Helen says as she pulls open another door, which leads up to the third story of the house. The door creaks with a long, low whining sound, and when Helen flicks the light switch, the bulb hanging at the top of the stairs emits a dim, eerie glow. Jason allows Helen and Sophie to go up the stairs to the attic first, and he waits for Don to go ahead of him, in case the elderly man needs any assistance.

Jason is still ascending the stairs, Don moving cautiously in front of him, when he hears Helen’s gasp.

“What happened?” Sophie asks in response.

“Someone’s been in here!” Helen cries. “Someone broke into our attic!”

The gentle chime of silverware on porcelain blends with the clink of crystal glassware and the soft murmur of conversation. The chandeliers overhead glitter. Her manicured fingers steady, Natalie Bishop reaches for her glass of white wine. Across from her, Sonja Kahele smiles, tired but genuine.

“I don’t want to get too ahead of myself, but I feel such a sense of relief,” Sonja says between bites of her niçoise salad. “They’re going to get the transplant scheduled as soon as possible.”

“That’s amazing news,” Natalie replies with unfeigned enthusiasm.

“I don’t even know how to thank Samantha.”

“TJ is her brother. I’m sure she’s happy to help. Samantha is a really good kid — despite her biology.”

Sonja politely sidesteps that comment. “Regardless, I’m crossing my fingers that this does the trick. TJ has been so pale, so weak. Seeing my little boy like that…”

“It would take a toll on anyone,” Natalie says. “You deserve a vacation.”

“I can’t even imagine, at this point. I feel guilty even leaving him long enough to go out to lunch — not that I don’t appreciate the invitation. Running into you at the park was, I don’t know, the universe’s way of giving me a friend.”

Natalie tries as discreetly as possible to swallow the lump that has formed in her throat. Sitting here over salads and wine with Sonja feels so disingenuous; Natalie is all too aware that she is the reason Sonja’s life has been so chaotic over the last several years. When Natalie secretly arranged for Sonja to work as Spencer‘s nurse in order to keep his memory of his fall down the stairs suppressed, she allowed Sonja to think that it was Loretta Ragan who had hired her. And when Sonja flew to New England to confront Loretta in prison, Loretta — rather than denying the accusation like a normal person would — recognized an opportunity to use Sonja and to put the screws to Natalie. But now, with Loretta dead, there is no one else who knows what Natalie did. Sonja has brought TJ back to King’s Bay to reunite with the Fishers, and he is on the verge of being treated for his condition, so everything is working out. Perhaps supporting Sonja now is a way of making up for the terrors that Natalie inflicted upon her earlier. She pushes past her misgivings to continue the conversation as normally as she can.

“You’re doing everything you can for TJ. You have to take care of yourself.” Natalie takes another small sip of her wine, then slaps her hand on the table. “I know what you need.”

Sonja slowly sets down her fork. “What are you thinking?”

“A rich husband,” Natalie says with a laugh. “You, of all people, deserve the easy life after what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t know if I’m really the type for that,” Sonja says. “No offense. I know your marriage to Spencer is… unconventional.”

“It’s mutually beneficial. At least, it started out that way. Spencer got access to his son, and I got access to, well, the Ragan money. They say money can’t buy happiness, but I’ll tell you: that’s a lot of crap.”

“So you’re happy? In your marriage? I’m sorry if that’s too–“

“It isn’t.” Natalie flaps her hand up and down as if swatting Sonja’s concern away. “I’m content. Do I dream about falling madly in love again? Of course I do. I had that with Jason, but I blew it, and I take responsibility there. For now, though… Spencer and I have a good arrangement.”

“There was a time I thought Tim and I could have a happy ending,” Sonja admits. “But after everything that’s happened… and seeing him with Claire now…”

“Wait,” Natalie says. “I have the perfect idea.”

Sonja sits back, holding her own glass of wine close to her chest. “What are you thinking, Natalie?”

Natalie’s eyes twinkle with self-satisfaction. “I know exactly who to set you up with!”

—–

Diane’s rebuttal hangs heavy over the living room of her condo.

“Samantha is the only donor we’ve identified,” Tim says, a note of pleading creeping into his voice. “Without her bone marrow, TJ could…” He trails off, but the unspoken part of his statement is perfectly clear.

“I want TJ to be okay. Of course I do,” Diane replies. “But at the expense of your own daughter?”

“It’s a low-risk procedure,” Samantha says. “They take it from my hip–“

“It might be a low-risk procedure under normal circumstances,” Diane interrupts. “But not for someone who spent weeks and weeks in a coma only a few years ago.”

This mention of Samantha’s ordeal, which resulted from a car crash as she, Diane, and Landon were attempting to save Tori from Zane Tanaka, appears to deflate Tim and Samantha. They both sit quietly, stewing over Diane’s inconvenient but valid point.

“The doctors won’t do the procedure without running a battery of tests to make sure it’s safe for her,” Tim finally says. “And Claire will be on the team.”

Diane rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

“Claire is a great nurse,” Samantha counters, all too accustomed to her mother’s digs.

“I’m sure she is,” Diane says. “But still. Your recovery wasn’t easy, Sam. Even after you woke up, it was months before you could go back to work and get back to your old self. If something were to go wrong–“

“I’m willing to take that risk.” Now Samantha is the one to cut her mother off. Though her tone lacks Diane’s brashness, she sounds plainly confident and self-assured.

A look of relief washes over Tim’s face. “We’ll make sure the doctors do everything they can to screen for and avoid potential complications.”

“I’m not talking you out of this, am I?” Diane asks, her posture softening into, if not defeat, at least acceptance.

“You aren’t,” Samantha says. “I hear your concerns, I really do, but… TJ is my brother. He needs this from me.”

“You definitely got the Bishop stubbornness,” Diane says.

“And we’re going to do everything we can to ensure that both Samantha and TJ come out of this perfectly healthy,” Tim says, as he reaches over and wraps an arm around Sam’s shoulders.

—–

Jason hurries to the top of the stairs, while Don stands to the side. The sight that meets him stops him cold.

The space is dimly lit by that bulb at the top of its stairs and an identical one deeper into the attic. Their light casts long shadows across the low, slanted ceiling. Boxes are stacked high along the walls, but several have been pulled out or opened. Tissue paper spills over the edges of one. A pair of tan tights hang over the lip of another box, as if they have been discarded in a hurry.

Helen stands in the center of the scene, her mouth slightly open, hands pressed to her stomach.

Her voice is thin with disbelief: “This… this isn’t how I left it.”

“It looks like someone was up here digging around,” Sophie says as she takes a few steps forward.

Jason’s eyes land on a cardboard box near the triangular window at the end of the attic. In Helen’s looping cursive, it is labeled Courtney — skating. Its top flaps hang open.

He crouches beside it and peels back the flaps fully. Inside, bright swaths of fabric lie crumpled and disorganized. He recognizes the sparkle of sequins and the stiff netting of costume skirts, many of them bringing back shockingly clear flashes of practices, competitions, fittings.

“This is where the dress would’ve been?” he asks.

Helen moves beside him, lowering herself to the floor with a slight wince. “Damn arthritis,” she mutters, before pushing aside a tangle of red mesh from the top of the box. “I had put a number of the dresses in a garment bag. But the bag — it’s– it’s gone.”

Don braces himself against the unfinished wall with a hand. “How would anyone even get in here?”

“I don’t know,” Helen says, stricken. “I haven’t been up since… well… maybe since I put the Christmas things away last winter. We had the furnace guy out after that…”

“And that home energy inspection the city offered,” Don adds. “Someone could have been snooping around.”

With unease curdling in his gut, Jason stands and scans the rest of the attic. “Whoever it was knew what they were looking for.”

“And they know what happened to Mom,” Sophie says. “Because of the note.”

“What note?” Helen asks with alarm.

“There was this note left with the dress,” the dark-haired teenager explains. “It said, like, Stay away or you’ll get it next!“

“It’s sickening how this horrid person is dredging up Courtney’s memory like this,” Helen says, spitting out the words as if they are rotten meat.

“And the police haven’t made any sense of it?” Don inquires.

“They had us all submit handwriting samples,” Jason says. “Sophie, Sabrina, and me. None of them matched, obviously, but they had to rule us out–“

Helen gasps. “They thought one of you might have done it?”

“They have to cover their bases,” he reiterates.

“It’s not like Sabrina hasn’t had her issues before,” Helen says.

“Sabrina isn’t doing this to herself,” Jason says firmly. “What would even be the point?”

Helen responds with an exaggerated shrug. “Attention? To cause trouble between you and your daughter? I don’t know. I don’t have the mind of a crazy person, Jason.”

He sighs and decides not to take the bait. “I’ll let Brent know about the disturbance to the attic. Obviously you guys should be careful about keeping the doors and windows locked, and don’t let anyone in who you don’t trust.”

“We’ll be careful,” Don says.

Jason looks into the open box one more time, and something inside him tenses. The violation of the Chases’ home is bad enough, and now it occurs to him that whoever has been doing this is not finished. And they’re only getting bolder.

END OF EPISODE 1266

What could Sabrina’s stalker’s endgame be?
Is it safe for Samantha to donate her marrow?
What brilliant idea has Natalie had for Sonja?
Talk about it all in the comments below!

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