Entering the apartment after dinner, Remington glanced around the spotless room, then carelessly tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa before dropping onto the upholstered surface.
As Laura picked up the coat, he asked, "Be a luv and bring that bottle of wine out, will you, Laura?" Had he imagined the slight hesitation in her movements, he wondered, then decided that he had when she smiled that "Stepford Wife" smile.
"Just let me put this where it belongs and I'll bring it right out," she promised.
Remington put a hand behind his head and picked up the remote control to flip through the channels on the television. So far, the evening had gone precisely as planned. He had ordered for her at Che Rive, informing their waiter that Laura preferred to let him make the decisions. Then he had resoundingly agreed with her decision to sublet the loft, and, in fact, suggested they might want to sell it soon.
Behind him, Laura moved quietly from the bedroom toward the kitchen.
"It will be nice not to have to face those stairs again," he had sighed in mock relief. "I still don't understand why you wanted to live down there in the first place, Laura. But now that you've come to your senses, things will be much better, I assure you."
That comment HAD drawn a hesitation, and the minute, almost imperceptible glint of anger to those brown eyes. But it was the fact that he had managed to "forget" that tin of peanut butter cookies at the office that made Remington feel better than anything else. He would be able to safely get rid of them tomorrow while Laura was safely here, puttering around the apartment like June Cleaver.
Laura returned, carrying a tray with the wine, two glasses, and a plate that was covered with a napkin. As she sat down beside him, putting the tray on the coffee table, Remington sat forward. "What's this?" he asked, thinking she had brought some cheese to go with the wine.
Laura poured the drinks, smiling. "Well, since you forgot the cookies I made for you at the office, you're lucky that I kept a few here in case you and Mildred finished all of them there," she told him, lifting the napkin to reveal three of the brown-edged cookies.
Remington took a sip of wine. "Cookies? I'm afraid I couldn't," he insisted, patting his stomach as he sat back. "Absolutely stuffed. Perhaps later."
"That's what you said at the office," she reminded him.
Seeing the disappointment on her face, Remington picked up a cookie, examining it. He wondered idly if Laura's brother in law would be willing to come into his dental office after hours-he started to take a bite, then abruptly held it out to her. "Why don't you try it first?" he suggested.
Laura opened her mouth and bit down on the edge of the cookie, -or, rather, she tried to. She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I messed up again. I'm NEVER going to learn to cook," she sighed, tossing the cookie onto the plate with a distraught sigh. Remington winced, fearing that it might crack the china. When it didn't, he placed an arm around Laura.
"There, there. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it eventually. You just have to keep trying." She picked up the plate as she stood. "Where are you going?"
"To get rid of these. I'll try again tomorrow. I'm going to get this right if it's the last thing I do!" she declared as she stalked back to the kitchen.
Remington was secretly thrilled that she was so upset. It was the most emotion she'd shown since the night of her father's death. Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, he followed her into the kitchen. She was at the sink, plate in hand, reaching for the disposal switch on the wall.
"Laura! Don't-" he winced as her finger flipped the switch and a horrible grinding noise filled the room. Reaching around her, he turned off the protesting disposal. "We'll call a repairman tomorrow," he said.
"I can't believe that a peanut butter cookie recipe could be that difficult," Laura muttered. "I wonder if Mother gave me the right recipe? Maybe SHE left something out." She picked up the phone. "I'll call her and ask-"
But Remington took the phone from her hand and returned it to the base. "Laura- it's almost midnight in Connecticut."
"Then I'll call Frances," Laura decided, reaching for the phone again. "I'm sure that she-"
"She and Donald were going out tonight, remember?"
"I'll call her first thing tomorrow, then," Laura resolved. "I am NOT going to let something like this defeat me!"
"That's my girl!" Remington said. "Now, what do you say that we go back into the living room, drink our wine, and watch a movie, eh?" He didn't give her a chance to argue, grabbing her elbow and pulling her out of the kitchen with him.
He picked out a tape and placed it into the machine. "Which movie?" she asked.
"Casablanca," he told her, glancing at her to gauge her reaction. "Never get tired of seeing it. Classic film noir. Bogart, Bergman. Two people caught up in something bigger than either one realizes," he rattled on, joining Laura on the sofa as the movie began.
While HE didn't mind seeing the movie over and over, he was well aware that Laura tended to grit her teeth ten minutes into the movie. And it never helped her mood when he would do a running commentary throughout the film. "Ah, Paul Henried. Sydney Greenstreet, Claude Raines, Peter Lorre…Ah, those were the days of filmmaking, eh, Laura?"
He could almost hear those lovely teeth grinding already…
***
The next morning, Remington was just finishing getting dressed- after having his breakfast in bed. He'd called Mildred, warned her that he was going to be a little late, and promised an explanation as soon as he got to the office.
Laura left him to take the tray back to the kitchen, and Remington smiled, glancing at the clock. The doorbell caused his smile to widen further, and he went out, putting on his jacket as Laura opened the door.
"Linda!" Daniel said in his usual effusive manner, leaning forward to give the obviously surprised young woman a kiss on the cheek. "You look lovely, my dear, as always. A bit thin, perhaps-" His eyes twinkled as he looked up and saw Remington. "Harry. How are you, my boy?" he asked, warmly embracing his former partner in crime.
"Daniel. This is a surprise. I had no idea-"
"I had some business to take care of in Los Angeles," Daniel informed him. "Thought you might want to get in on it-"
"Business?" Laura asked, speaking for the first time since she'd opened the door.
"Just a little something I happened into," he explained in a vague tone. "You know how these things go, Harry. I hope you don't mind my just- popping in this way…"
"Of course not, Daniel. You're one of Remington's oldest and dearest friends," Laura said, causing both men to turn and look at her. "You're always welcome for a visit."
Remington pulled her to his side, laughing. "Isn't she remarkable, Daniel? Would you bring Daniel and me some coffee, Laura?"
"Oh, I don't want to keep you, Harry," Daniel insisted. "I'm aware that you and Linda have to go to your office. I just thought I'd drop by and let you know I was in town enroute to my hotel."
"Hotel?" Remington questioned.
"I can't very well stay here this time, can I?" Daniel pointed out, smiling at Laura. "Three IS a crowd, my boy." He studied her, and Remington saw Laura tighten the knot in the belt of his robe, as if just realizing that she was standing there in his apartment, wearing Remington's blue silk bathrobe and little else. "I wouldn't want to intrude."
Remington was thoughtful. "No, I suppose you're right. But I DO have a better solution than a hotel. Laura's loft."
"MY loft?" Laura questioned.
"It's not being used- and wouldn't it be better for someone to be staying there than for it to be empty? I'm sure you won't mind, will you, Laura?"
"Of-course not," Laura said, and Remington heard the slight hesitation.
Daniel gave Laura a cursory glance. "You're sure it wouldn't be a problem?" he asked, addressing the question to Remington.
"Why don't I drop you by there on my way to the office?" Remington suggested. "If it doesn't suit you, then I'll drop you wherever you like."
"Excellent idea, Harry." Daniel agreed eagerly. "It will give us a chance to catch up. And I can tell you about the business that brought me to Los Angeles." He glanced at Laura again. "Aren't you joining us, Linda?"
Remington was sure he heard her teeth grinding in the silent room. "No," Remington answered for her, his arm at her waist again. "Laura's spending less time at playing detective these days, aren't you, luv? Not that I mind," he clarified for Daniel. "Having her undivided attention is wonderful."
"I'm sure it is. I always knew that you weren't cut out for such a rough and tumble existence, my dear," Daniel told Laura with a fatherly smile. "Women should take care of home and hearth, not be out in the cold, cruel world."
Remington waited a beat, and when Laura didn't respond to Daniel's pronouncement, he gave her a quick kiss. "I'll call you later. Give Abigail my best, eh?"
"Mother?"
"When you call her? About the cookie recipe?"
"Oh. Oh, yes. I will. I will," she said in a distant voice.
"This is simply TOO good an opportunity to pass up, Harry," Daniel said as they got into the elevator. "You might even be willing to throw in on it yourself once you hear-"
The elevator doors closed, and Remington lifted a hand to silence Daniel as he leaned against the stainless steel wall. "Laid it on pretty thick, didn't you?"
"I thought that was the idea, Harry. To shake the lady up a bit."
"Well, she's certainly shaken," Remington confirmed.
"I'm afraid it's worse than you led me to believe it was. I can remember a time when Laura wouldn't have let me ten foot out of her sight with you in tow."
They approached the white antique with its black ragtop. "So this is your Auburn. Lovely car, Harry. Simply lovely." He opened the passenger door and got inside. "So, what's the next step in this plan of yours?"
"I think we'll wait and see what Laura does first."
***
Mildred was coming out of Remington's office when he entered. "Morning, Mildred."
"Boss. I was beginning to worry-" she broke off upon seeing the man just behind Remington. "Chalmers?"
Daniel gave her his most charming smile. "Miss Krebs, isn't it? Mildred?"
"Miss Krebs to you, buster," she said, frowning. "Mr. Steele- we need to talk-"
"We will, Mildred," he began, only to be interrupted by the telephone.
"Remington Steele Investigations," Mildred answered, still glaring at Daniel. Daniel lifted an amused eyebrow in Remington's direction. "Miss Holt-"
Remington quickly got the receptionist's attention, mouthing, "I'm not here, and you haven't heard from me," at her.
"Mr. Steele?…No, no, I haven't seen him," Mildred said. She listened. "Daniel Chalmers, hmm?" she repeated, glancing at Daniel. "Yes, I will. The moment he comes in." She hung up. "Okay, now, out with it. What are you two up to?"
"I'm only here, my dear woman, to help restore Laura to her former charming, albeit argumentative self. At Harry's request, might I add."
Mildred looked at Remington. "HE'S your plan?" she asked.
Remington stood back, watching her. "Yes," he admitted. "Mildred-" he began, intending to try and convince her that her part in this was going to be VERY important, but he never had the chance.
Mildred began to smile, that proud, motherly smile that she usually gave him whenever he stumbled onto an idea that she liked. "It's brilliant! Daniel Chalmers is THE perfect choice for this, Chief! Oooh, you're so…so…"
"I take it you approve, Mildred?" Remington asked, smiling as well.
"Anything that gets our Miss Holt out of that apartment and back here where she belongs gets my approval, Mr. Steele. How can I help?"
Remington hugged the woman's shoulders, laughing as he looked at Daniel. "Didn't I tell you she was priceless, Daniel?"
"Without peer," Daniel agreed.
"Now, Mildred, here's what I need you to do…"