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Cassandra Goth answered her front door to find Nina Caliente standing on the other side.

“Hi,” Nina said. “We need to talk.”

“If it’s about Don, we have nothing to talk about,” Cassandra said, as Nina effortlessly breezed past her and into the house.

“Believe me, the last thing this is about is Don Lothario,” Nina told her. “But for what its worth, I’m sorry about the way things worked out with you two, and for my part in it.”

“Uh, thank you.” Cassandra was throughly confused. Part of her demanded that she seethe with anger at this brazen woman, who’d slept with her fiancée, and just now strolled into her home as though she owned the place… but for some strange reason, she couldn’t help but feel a strange sort of admiration toward her. She’d only known her by reputation beforehand, and thirty seconds into their first face-to-face meeting, she was beginning to actually like Nina Caliente!

“So, what is it we need to talk about?” Cassandra asked.

“Family,” Nina said, simply.

“What family?”

“THE family,” Nina stressed. “Yours. Mine. Ours.”

“Okay, you’re not making any sense, here. In fact, you’re starting to scare me a little,” Cassandra admitted, taking a step back. Nina closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

“I know, I know. I’m rushing this. But it’s important, so please bear with me.” Nina took a moment to focus before continuing. “You know that your father has been seeing my sister, Dina.” Cassandra nodded. “Well, she’s claiming that they’re engaged.” Cassandra’s eyes went wide at this news. “She said something about Mortimer needing to talk to Alexander first.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that actually makes sense,” Cassandra muttered.

“Uh… okay,” Nina responded, clearly not getting it. “Anyway, there’s something I think Mortimer should know, but Dina refuses to tell him.”

“So why come to me?”

“Because if I went to your father, he’d just think I was trying to derail the wedding.”

“And you’re not?”

“Look, if they’re really in love and want to spend their lives together, I don’t have a problem with it. I’ll be the first in line to wish them the best. But I know my sister. She wants money, and lots of it. And I think that’s the main reason she wants to marry your father. I— I’d just feel better about the whole thing if she’d simply come clean.”

“‘Come clean’ about what?” Cassandra asked.

“Before we came to Pleasantview,” Nina sighed, “Dina was married. To your uncle Michael.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.

“Mother’s brother? We haven’t heard from him… since before Alex was born.”

“Well, I can tell you that for the last three years of his life, he was married to my sister, and ran a dry cleaning business in West Boveena.”

“The last three years...?” Nina closed her eyes, and sighed.

“He died, five years ago. The police called it ‘suspicious circumstances.’ Dina inherted the dry cleaners, and sold it cheap. I think she was banking on his life insurance, but they refused to pay the claim. Shortly after that, we moved here.” Cassandra moved to her sofa, and sat heavily. Nina perched beside her. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what you expected me to do with this, Nina,” Cassandra began, and before Nina could utter a syllable in response, she continued, “but if your sister thinks she’s marrying my father for money, she’s in for a surprise!”

“What are you going to do?” Nina asked. Cassandra smiled.

“I’m going to pick out a wedding gift. I think I know just the thing.”

. . .

That afternoon, once Alexander had returned from school, Mortimer asked the boy to sit with him in the parlor. For several long moments, the old man fidgeted in his seat, trying to come up with the right words to share with his son.

“Father,” Alexander finally said, in good-natured exasperation, “will you just spit it out? All that squirming you’re doing is wearing a hole in the seat of my pants!” Mortimer cleared his throat.

“Yes. Well, son… as you’re aware, I’ve lately been spending time with Miss Caliente. Dina,” he specified, quickly. Alexander smiled.

“Is that what this is about? You were making me nervous, Father! So, you’re gonna get married, huh?”

“It… is a bit more complicated than—” Mortimer began.

“Did you ask her yet?” Alexander interrupted.

“Actually, she asked me,” Mortimer admitted.

“And what did you say?”

“I explained to her that before I could contemplate such a step, I needed to speak with you, to make sure you understood and were comfortable with—”

“You pinned this on me?! Look, Father, if you want to get married, get married. If you don’t want to get married, don’t. But don’t leave me holding the bag! That’s not fair!”

“Alexander,” mortimer sighed, “you are my child. You are my life. I must carefully weigh any decision that affects you so materially. I cannot enter into this lightly.”

“Father, you’ve been lonely since we lost Mother. Cassandra and I both know that. We want you to be happy. If Miss Dina makes you happy, you should go for it. Not that you need it, but for whatever it means, you’ve got my blessing.” Mortimer beamed with pride and affection for his son.

“Thank you, Alexander. It does mean a lot.” The boy looked up at his father with a nervous grin.

“You don’t think she’s gonna try to send me off to boarding school, do you?”

. . .

Cassandra was moving on after the dissolution of her troth to Don Lothario. She had long been friendly with Darren Dreamer, and now she began spending more time with him, even consenting to model for him in his studio.

She enjoyed being with Darren and his son Dirk, and found herself growing closer with the rising artist. Darren, for his part, had long been smitten with Cassandra, and welcomed the opportunity to share her company. Young Dirk also quickly became fond of his dad’s slightly quirky, definitely cool girlfriend, who seemed to know just about everything about everything and could even kick his butt at SSX3.

“Dad, can you save the mush for some other time?” Dirk asked one evening, as his father tried to utter a few sweet nothings into Cassandra’s ear in the midst of a particularly heated tournament. “We’re kinda busy here.”

“Really, Darren,” Cassandra added, “there are bragging rights at stake!” With that, Darren laughed, sat back and cheered both combatants on equally.

A few days later, Cassandra found an interesting letter in her mailbox, and ran to the phone to dial up Darren.

“Hey, sweetie,” she cooed. “What are you doing this weekend? Well, it seems there’s this wedding, and I could use a date.”