Roarke turned from his console with a look of satisfaction. “It’s all going according to plan.”
When the man he was addressing smiled, it made him look much younger than his 101 years. “Roarke, my boy, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Most men in the year 2060 wouldn’t have caught the reference, but most men weren’t Roarke, the richest man both in and out of the world, and off. In addition to owning “half the god-damned planet”, as his wife, Eve, would put it, he also happened to own a rather large collection of 20th century movies. “And we don’t even have to round up the usual suspects,” he replied.
Mr. Wheeler laughed. “Not much gets past you, does it, Roarke?”
Roarke saw no reason to lie to his new colleague. “No. Not if I can help it.”
The two men were in Roarke’s specially built laboratory. Roarke had wasted no time in ordering the best his vast wealth could buy once he had come on board as the chief financier of Mr. Wheeler’s project; a project that had even a worldly man like Roarke’s heart pounding with the possibilities.
As with everything Roarke had a hand in, the laboratory was state-of-the-art, taking up the entire 10th floor of his midtown offices. There were offices for the researchers and scientists working on the project, as well as a large, corner office for Mr. Wheeler, a man Roarke had long admired.
Roarke checked his monitor and couldn’t contain his excitement. He’d been working for months with various researchers and scientists on this project. It may have started as Mr. Wheeler’s baby, but once Roarke had gotten involved, it had fired his imagination as nothing had in a very long time. His hands danced over the controls as he set the final sequence into motion.
”This is it, my friend,” he said.
One minute Trixie was in the Wheeler stables, watching in shock as she and the other BWGs disappeared like magic. The next, she was staring into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
Despite her feelings for Jim, she couldn’t stop the involuntary reaction of her heart as it gave a sudden thump. He was quite simply the handsomest man she had ever seen, and how he got into the Wheeler stables, she would never know.
Only they weren’t in the stables anymore, Trixie realized, as she tore her gaze from Tall, Dark, and Pretty to take in her surroundings. She could see the other BWGs looking around, identical expressions of wonder on all their faces, and knew she looked the same: wide-eyed, pale, and slack-jawed.
It looked for all the world like they were on a space craft of some kind, complete with sleek consoles that seemed to be made out of some kind of glowing material.
Trixie was torn from her thoughts at the sound of Honey gasping as a figure Trixie had previously not noticed said, “Grace?”
The voice belonged to a strangely familiar old man with neatly cropped white hair and green eyes, framed by the kind of crinkles that spoke of easy smiles and time spent in the sun. But his face wore a look of confusion, not mirth, as he walked towards Honey.
Honey took a step forward. ““I don’t…Dad? But how…what’s happened to you?!”
Trixie felt a chill as she stared at the old man. He did, in fact, look like a very aged Mr. Wheeler. What kind of trick was this?
“What is going on here?” Jim demanded, his voice sharp as he put himself between the old man and his sister.
The hottie Trixie had struggled to look away from finally spoke.
“Well. We appear to have a very interesting…situation on our hands.”
The faint music of Ireland could be noted in his voice, and the errant thought that at least he was from the planet Earth somehow reassured Trixie. His next words shocked her profoundly.
“Mr. Wheeler, do you know this young woman?”
Honey’s knees visibly buckled, and Brian joined Jim, the two of them securing Honey on either side before she could slide to the floor.
“Grace!” the old man cried out, reaching for her.
“Don’t touch her!” Brian snapped.
“Over here,” Ireland said, indicating a large chair. “Sleep,” he said, oddly enough to the chair, and Trixie jumped as the chair transformed into a chair/bed hybrid before her very eyes.
Brian picked Honey up and carefully set her down, rubbing her wrists as she let out a faint moan.
“This is my great-granddaughter, Grace, but I don’t understand. How did she…how did all of you get here?”
Trixie’s mind was working furiously, but the only answer she could come up with was so incredible that she couldn’t believe it.
Didn’t want to believe it, really.
“What year is this?” she blurted, feeling the heat rise into her cheeks. She didn’t have to look to know that the BWGs were all looking at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.
But how else to explain their space-age surroundings and the aging Mr. Wheeler? Trixie’s head began to ache and she found herself reaching for Jim’s hand and clutching it. The answering squeeze told her that Jim was just as perplexed as she was.
Ireland stepped up to her and Trixie sensed a man who was used to taking command of any situation, no matter how fantastic. She felt the traitorous heart fluttering once more.
“Before we get into that, my name is Roarke, and this is Mr. Matthew Wheeler. And you are…?”
Trixie swallowed. “I’m Trixie Belden. I’m, uh, from the past. I guess that makes you part of the future?”
Nearby, Mart snorted. “Come on, Sis.”
Trixie wheeled to him. “Well? What would you call it? It looks like one of your Cosmo McNaught books in here! And look at Mr. Wheeler! Look at him!”
“Brian, Jim…it’s okay,” she heard Honey protest. Trixie watched as Mr. Wheeler carefully sat next to Honey and took her hand as Brian and Jim glared.
“I’m Hon…I’m Madeleine Wheeler. Grace is my middle name. Oh, Daddy…what’s happened to you?”
Mr. Wheeler smiled and stroked her cheek. “My sweet Honey-girl. I’ll have you know I look pretty damn good for 101! Sweetheart, there isn’t a thing wrong with me.”
He turned to Roarke. “Son, I’d say we’ve got more than just an interesting situation here.”
The man called Roarke merely nodded, both awe and speculation mixing in his incredible face as he looked at each of the Bob-Whites in turn. “Aye,” he finally said. “That we most certainly do.”
To be continued…
Author's Notes: Please, Nora, don't sue us! We mean well. :) Thank you to Jenn, for editing; Cathyoma, for collaborating; and to everybody who makes Jix the wonderful community that it is. Mwah! - MC