Sam went out to the house on Monday to talk to Bill about Toby's ideas. Bill was open to the ideas but skeptical. "We can do whatever you want, Sam, but I'm not sure just what it is you want."

"Yeah, Bill, I know I'm not making it very clear. It all sounded so good when Toby talked about it."

"Who's Toby? An architect?"

"He's an accountant, Bill. But he has an eye for things. Tell you what, maybe I can get him out here to explain this stuff. But he works, so it'd have to be on a Saturday. That okay?"

"Sure, but it'll have to be soon. I've found some landscapers who really seem to know their stuff, and I want to get them started on layouts pretty soon."

"This Saturday, then, I promise."

"Make it in the afternoon, will you? I'm playing ball with my boy in the morning."

That evening Sam called Toby at home and asked him if he could spare the time on Saturday. Toby was agreeable and even said that if Sam didn't have any plans for Saturday evening, maybe he could cook him dinner. Sam said he'd lay in a supply of gin.

The next day Sam went shopping for some good drink glasses. He found some Baccarat martini glasses that seemed perfect. Then he spotted some snifters that he just couldn't resist so he bought a dozen of each. Then he went to Jensen's and found some very good caviar. What the hell, he thought, if you're going to do it, do it right. He also bought eggs and sweet onions for garnish.

By Thursday Sam was having second thoughts, and on Friday he put the glasses way in the back of the cupboard and gave the caviar to Duane and Howard as a thank-you gift. Then he went out and bought some herb cheese and savory crackers.

Toby arrived at Sam's a little after one on Saturday. They took the groceries in and put them away before leaving for the house. Bill was already there when they arrived.

"Hi, guys," he said when they got out of Sam's car. He offered his hand to Toby. "You must be Toby," he said. "Sam's been carrying on about your ideas, but, being the strong, silent type, he can't seem to articulate them." He laughed and turned to Sam. "I brought Mary along to make some drawings. She's out back taking some measurements." He turned back to Toby. "Mary's my wife. She's got a real knack for drawing-does all the plans I have to take to City Hall."

Toby nodded. "Well, I hope she doesn't mind a novice. I think maybe Sam's blown this thing all out of proportion." He shrugged. "It's just a couple of ideas."

Bill put his hand on Toby's shoulder. "Hey, we're open to anything as long as Sam approves. And pays for it, of course. Come on, let's go see how the measuring is coming along."

They went around the house where Bill introduced Sam and Toby to Mary. She was a slender, wiry woman somewhere in her late thirties. If she was wearing makeup, they couldn't tell. Her hair was cut short, in an easy-care style. Her smile of greeting was bright, and they both liked her immediately.

When Toby suggested that the back and side walls be pushed out by eight feet, Bill scratched his head and made a tour down one side and across the back. "Could be," he said. "Could be. It wouldn't really change the house, would it? Just make it bigger."

"Toby's words exactly," Sam said with a smile.

Mary looked at her clipboard and made a couple of quick calculations. "So what do you plan to do with roughly 850 square feet of new space?"

"Well, for one thing," Toby said with a wink at Sam, "put in a shower."

Mary laughed. "That's one hell of a shower, my friend. You going to bring in a twelve-inch water main?"

Toby shook his head. "I don't think he needs a shower quite that big. But it would give him a bigger kitchen and dining room as well as some closet space. Come on, I'll show you."

For the next couple of hours Toby described his ideas, Mary made sketches and measurements, and Sam and Bill listened, nodding their heads and keeping quiet. When they were finished, they went inside and stood where the larger kitchen would be.

"So, what do you envision doing in here? It's not particularly well designed as it is, and you'll have to be careful not to waste the new space."

Toby shook his head and deferred to Sam who said, "Oh, no you don't. You cook; I don't." He turned to Mary and Bill. "Whatever he wants is what we'll do." He smiled at Toby. "Maybe I'll get a few home-cooked meals out of it."

Toby looked dubious but went on to point out some things that he thought needed to be included. He looked at Sam every time he made a suggestion, looking for confirmation. Finally Mary, recognizing what was going on, said, "Okay guys, that's enough for now. Why don't you spend some time on it together, and we'll look at it again in a couple of weeks."

They agreed and called it a day.

Back at the condo, they each had a shower and got into clean clothes. Then, Sam mixed martinis while Toby washed lettuce.

"You know," Sam said when he'd given Toby his drink, "it sure would be nice to have a sofa or at least an easy chair in here." He went on to describe the way Howard and Duane had arranged their kitchen. "It was really nice, you know? Howard could cook, and we could still be with him, keep him as part of the conversation."

"Sounds like a nice arrangement, Sam, except that you don't cook. What was it you said, 'I can boil water but have no idea what to do next'?"

"Aw, come on, I can scramble eggs; I make a mean piece of toast-all that stuff."

"You're going to invite someone over for scrambled eggs and toast?"

Sam raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, maybe they stayed over."

Toby dried his hands and tasted his drink. "If they stayed over, you should take them out to breakfast. It's the least you could do," he said with a grin.

Sam winked at him. "Hey, I'm so good maybe they should take me out to breakfast."

Dinner was good: grilled salmon with horseradish, bleu-cheese potatoes and a salad.

"That was excellent, Toby," Sam said, clearing the table. "You want to do it again tomorrow night?"

"Sorry, Sam," he said. "Not only would you be tired of it two nights in a row, but I'll be in Denver tomorrow night."

"Oh, no, not another conference. What do they talk about at those things, anyway?"

Toby put ice in their glasses. "You want another one?" Sam nodded. "What they talk about are very important, if esoteric, accounting issues. And at this one, I'll have you know, I'm giving a paper."

Sam turned from the sink. "Hey, I'm impressed," he said seriously. "What's it about?"

"You don't want to know, Sam."

"Sure I do."

Toby sighed. "Okay. It's called: An Analysis of Site Variable Factors in the Setting of Room Rental Rates in Mid-Sized Hotels."

Sam laughed. "You wrote that? Now I'm really impressed."

Toby rolled his eyes and picked up the drinks he'd poured. "In the living room, Sam?"

"Yeah. I'm almost finished here."

In the living room Sam lit the fire and sat on the opposite end of the couch from Toby. After a few moments of silence, Sam sighed. "I think, Toby, it's time we talked about the elephants in the room. Both of them."

Toby looked suddenly wary. "What elephants?"

Sam took a deep breath. "One of them is money. My money. Look Toby, we all have things that we bring to a relationship. In my case, mostly, it's money. I know it bugs you when I do what you think are extravagant things, especially when I do them for you."

"No, Sam, it's just…"

"Hear me out, Toby. I know that Jack used money-and a handsome boy's inexperience-to buy you." Toby looked up sharply. "Or at least try to buy you. I'm not Jack, Toby. I'm me, and it would never occur to me to try and buy someone. If they don't like me for me, they don't, and nothing's going to change that, not even money.

He suddenly thought about what Howard had said and shifted his approach. "Consider today, Toby. You have vision and see how things can fit together. I don't. For God's sake, I couldn't even explain to Bill what I wanted to do. But you did. You made it clear and simple. So you bring that talent to the relationship. I bring money-which, never forget, I had very little to do with acquiring."

"Well, you took care of Harry. That had to count for something."

"I guess. Sure, I used what talents I had, just as you used yours today with Bill and Mary. I brought them to the relationship…"

Toby shook his head. "Wait a minute, Sam. You keep talking about a relationship. Do we have one of those?"

Sam finished his drink in a gulp. "That, young man, is the other elephant in the room." He took a deep breath and just said it. "Damn it, Toby, I've gone and fallen in love with you." He grinned at Toby. "There, I've said it. And I'm glad!"

Toby finished his drink, got up and took Sam's glass. "I need another. You?"

Sam nodded, wondering if he'd just blown the whole thing.

When Toby came back with the drinks, he again sat on the end of the couch opposite Sam. He looked Sam squarely in the eye and said, "That's quite an elephant, Sam. Now you get to hear my side of all this."

He took a sip of his drink and thought for a moment. "The money thing isn't as important as you think, Sam." He waved off Sam's response and went on. "I know I had a very bad night in that restaurant, and perhaps I blew it all out of proportion. I'm sorry for that but I really did think you were, in some way, trying to buy me, trying to get me to do something… Well, I see now that you weren't, but at the time…"

Sam nodded and smiled at him but remained silent.

"Then there was the painting and the sculpture. I really liked both of them, wanted both of them, but I'd have been pissed as all hell if you'd bought them, especially if you'd bought them for me. I know that's silly and probably self-defeating, but there you are." He looked a little wistful, Sam thought. Then he laughed. "It'd be different today, I guess. I mean now that…" He took a large sip of his drink.

Sam kept his own counsel even though it was a great effort to keep his mouth shut.

"I've got to think about this, Sam. I really do." He looked up and smiled. "And Jumbo, the second elephant, I need to think about that, too. I think sometimes you're all I would ever want in life and then I think…" He sighed. "I don't know, Sam."

"Is it because I'm so much older than you?"

"Don't ever think that, Sam. Don't. I've always liked men older than I am, because they know so much more than I do and can teach me things. Even Jack taught me things, some of which weren't exactly what a nineteen-year-old boy needs to know. So, no, it isn't our age difference. It's not anything. Well, except that it's so sudden. It never occurred to me that you felt… well like you do.

"That one's my problem, I guess. But it never occurred to me that I was being subtle. I just didn't want to scare you away."

"Well, you didn't, Sam; you didn't. I just need some time to think, to sort things out." He laughed. "Well, I suppose Denver will be a nice, quiet place to think." He stood. "For now, I think I need to be by myself."

He picked up the drink glasses and took them into the kitchen. Sam followed.

"So what…"

Toby smiled. "Tell you what, Sam. I'm back Thursday evening. Why don't you make reservations somewhere for Friday night. If I can't figure this thing out in a week, I'll never figure it out. Okay? No place where I have to wear a tie."

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry to…"

Toby stopped him with a finger across his lips. "Don't ever be sorry, Sam" A quick kiss and he was out the door.

Sam fixed himself another martini-well, actually just gin on the rocks-and went up to his bedroom balcony to brood. When brooding became dull, he went to bed.

On Sunday Sam went down to the pool and swam laps until he couldn't swim any more. Superstitiously, he didn't go into the locker room but showered at home, by himself.

On Monday he called Alistair, his lawyer and friend, in Los Angeles. He also saw Dr. Binns, a man recommended by Jeremy at the DAH.

On Tuesday he drove up to L.A. and met with Alistair. When he was shown into the office, Alistair came out from behind his desk and drew Sam in to a hug. "Good to see you, Sam," he said. "How long has it been?"

"A couple of months now, maybe three," Sam said with a grin. "You haven't changed a bit."

Alistair wanted to know how life was treating him in Palm Springs, how he liked his new condo and, most of all, how the house was coming. "It must be something, judging from the money you're spending on it."

Sam laughed. "Alistair, to coin a phrase, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

"Well, as long as it isn't frivolous and you're going to get something worthwhile out of it." He looked at the clock on his desk. "By the way, I've taken the liberty of ordering lunch for us in my little dining room. I think you'll enjoy it." He paused for a moment before going on. "But we have an hour or so before lunch is served, so what can I do for you? You weren't very forthcoming when we spoke on the phone yesterday."

Sam took a deep breath and launched himself into the story of Toby. Everything, including Toby's background, his time with Jack, the age difference and the fact that he'd fallen in love.

When Sam was finished, Alistair smiled. "How long have you been rehearsing that speech, Sam? It was very well done."

Sam blushed. "Last night On the freeway this morning. Look, Alistair, I don't want you to think this is just some little infatuation that will play itself out in a few months. I really have fallen for this man, and I think-I hope-he has done the same with me."

"I'm still not sure as to why you've told me all this. Are you looking for my blessing? Or is it… Oh, yes, the boy's background. This is about money, isn't it?"

Sam nodded. "Alistair, I have to make him comfortable-with me, with the money I have, with his place in my life."

"So you want to settle some money on him." He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "How much?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. I don't even know how to do it. That's why I'm here."

Alistair looked at his clock. "Let me think about this for a bit, Sam. Perhaps I can see something here that your love-glazed eyes can't. And while I'm thinking, I believe it's time for lunch." He stood. "Shall we?"

They went into Alistair's "little" dining room where the table was set with heavy silver, fine china and crystal. They were served lobster quiche and a salad of baby greens dressed with vinaigrette. After sampling both, Sam looked up at Alistair and said, "Where'd you find him?"

Alistair got a hearty laugh out of that. "What tipped you off?"

Sam held up his fork. "The dressing on the salad. No one can make dressing like that but Albert."

"You have a very good palate, Sam. And a good memory, too." He went on to say that when the house in Beverly Hills had been closed up, he simply couldn't let a gem like Albert get lost, so he offered him a job managing the kitchen for the firm. Albert had transformed the food from merely good to exquisite and had a job for as long as he wanted. "Unless you're going to try to lure him away to Palm Springs."

Sam shook his head. "That's another thing about Toby. He cooks. Not as well as Albert, but I'll bet he will, someday."

After lunch, which was finished with a chocolate mousse, Sam went back into the kitchen and hugged Albert, thanking him for doing that particular lunch. Albert was proud that Sam had noticed and flattered that he remembered the salad dressing. It was a brief, but happy, reunion.

Back in his office, Alistair said, "Why don't you approach this like Harry did with you? Well, not quite, because you'll want to start right away and not wait for his birthday."

"You mean the presents Harry always gave me for my birthdays and Christmas?" He thought about it for a moment. "That might do it. He needs to be in a position that if, for any reason, we break up, he won't be out in the cold. Good thinking, Alistair."

Alistair nodded and smiled. "Thank you. And rather than from the trust, I think you should take the gifts out of your personal account. In that way, he will not have a claim on any assets in the trust until you are ready to make him a trustee."

"More good thinking, Alistair." He paused. "You know, I don't really pay a lot of attention to that account. How much do you suppose it's worth?"

Alistair drew himself up in his chair. "At this firm we do not suppose. We either know or we find out."

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Alistair's fingers punched his computer keyboard, and he looked up at his monitor. "Around eight million. Eight million, three-hundred-two thousand, fifty-three dollars and seventy cents as of opening of the market this morning, to be exact. The first gift should probably be in the five-hundred-thousand range. We'll take care of the mechanics of it."

"Thank you. How soon?"

Alistair leaned back in his chair and fixed Sam with a very serious expression. "Once you are California Registered Domestic Partners, Sam. That will give some legal standing to your partnership and demonstrate, to everyone concerned, the depth of your commitment to one another."

Sam nodded. "You think of everything, Alistair. Thank you. I'll let you know."

"You're really serious about this man, aren't you, Sam? In light of that, I think we should do a background check on him-like we did on you, just to make sure there aren't any sticky little situations that could come up and haunt us."

"On me? You did a background check on me?"

"Sam, Harry was a man of wealth and importance. You could have been anyone, from a blackmailer to a serial killer to a saint. Of course, we did."

Sam smiled. "And?"

"And you turned out to be a sweet kid who couldn't keep a job. Not a saint, mind you, but not evil, either." He laughed. "If I'd been in Harry's place, I probably wouldn't have hired you, but for some reason he saw something in you. I now see why."

After leaving Alistair, Sam drove by the Beverly Hills house. The front garden was well tended, and it actually looked as if somebody lived there. He made a mental note to thank Alistair for seeing to it that it was kept up so well. He also made a mental note to bring Toby here some day before he sold it.

On the way back to Palm Springs he thought a lot about the things Alistair had said, especially about registering their partnership. He found that he liked the idea of that. He hoped Toby would as well.

On Wednesday he went out to the house to see what was going on. When he got there Bill said he'd found something that Sam should see. The something turned out to be a fourteen-inch-wide brass plaque inscribed with the words Devá Shaante.

"Found it on the wall by the front gate. It was plastered over-probably had been for years. I guess someone, probably the first owner, named the house and had a plaque made and put on the wall. I wonder what it means?"

"For that matter, what language is it? I've never seen words like that."

"Well, anyway," Bill laughed, "your house has a name. You should have this cleaned up and we'll mount it when we re-plaster the wall. Outside the plaster."

Sam looked at the plaque critically. "What if it means Whore House in some language everyone knows but us?"

"Well, then you won't lack for company." His tone changed. "Hey, how's it going with that guy you brought around? Mary thought he was great. You going to try to hold on to him for a while?"

Sam smiled. "I'm gonna do my damnedest."

"Good. As Mary said, he's a keeper." He looked at the plaque again. "Why don't you take that down to the library? Maybe they can identify the language."

"Good idea, Bill. I'll do that."

Just then Tom Wacker came up along with Tige, who immediately lodged his nose in Sam's crotch. "What's up, gents?" Tom asked, pulling Tige back.

"Hey, just the man I needed to see," Sam said, holding out the plaque. "You ever seen this before?"

Tom took it and tilted it back and forth in the light. "Can't say that I have," he said. "Where'd it come from?"

"Off the wall, over by the gate," Bill said. "It was plastered over. I think it's a name somebody once gave to the house."

"Can't prove it by me," Tom said. "Jack and Larry just called it 'the place.' I'm sure they didn't have a formal name for it, much less one in some strange language. Let me show it to Dan; maybe he can make something out of it when he finishes his nap."

"Sure, Tom. Take it and show it to him. If he can't make anything of it, then maybe I'll take it down to the library."

Sam and Bill spent the next hour walking around the house, discussing the logistics of extending the roof eight feet and building new outside walls that would be just like the originals.