That evening at a Prime Timers mixer at Ground Zero, Sam asked Toby if he could take Thursday and Friday off.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can," Toby said. "We gonna get married?"

Sam nodded. "I called Alistair. He wants us up there Thursday. I thought on Friday we could go out to Beverly Hills and look at the house. Some guy wants to buy it, and we have to decide if we want to sell it."

"We? Wasn't that your friend Harry's house? Did he leave it to you?"

"Not exactly," Sam said dismissively, "but I'm sort of responsible for it. Now come on, let's go say hello to some people."

Later, at home, Sam said, "If we sign stuff on Thursday, then go out to the house on Friday, on Saturday we could go see your folks. Maybe take them out to dinner."

Toby smiled. "You mean, so Dad can see who's attached to the dick he always pictures in my mouth?"

"Something like that. You okay with it? I mean, me meeting them?"

"Well, they'll have to meet you sometime. I can't very well keep you hidden in some closet." He laughed. "Hell, I couldn't even keep me hidden in the closet. Yeah, let's take them out for dinner."

"Good. How about Spago?"

Toby rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable my folks would be at a place like Spago? No, Sam. Definitely not Spago."

"Okay, then, where?"

"How about Café Santorini? It's in Pasadena, and they think of it as a special-occasion restaurant. And this is going to be a special occasion, believe me."

"I'll call Alistair's secretary and have her make a reservation. Seven o'clock?"

"Yeah. I'll call mom tomorrow and let her know."

On Tuesday, José came around with a CD containing Zach's pictures. He also brought Zach, who, Sam noted, was still wearing the silver ring. "Good pictures, guys. Let me tell you, this man knows how to play to a camera."

Zach blushed a little and said, "It's not me." He smiled at José. "It's the photographer."

José rolled his eyes but said, "Thank you."

They put the CD in the computer and saw that José hadn't been kidding. The pictures were terrific. So terrific, in fact, that they had a difficult time choosing which ones to use. They finally agreed on five of them and then spent a couple of hours setting Zach up on two websites, Daddies and OlderAndBetter.

They profiled him as living in Arizona, married and very horny. They used an e-mail address from an account they had set up earlier just for the purpose. Interested guys wouldn't see that address, of course, but the websites would send an e-mail to it whenever someone sent a message to Zach's account.

"Now we just sit back and wait," Toby said when they were finished. "You're going to get a lot of mail, and we'll have to sift through it carefully if we're going to find the one from Martin."

"Do you think he'll find me?" Zach asked. "There are a lot of sites out there. What if he never gets on these?"

"Then we try some of the others," Toby said. "Don't worry, we'll find him sooner or later."

Early Thursday, Sam and Toby set out for L.A. At Pomona, just outside L.A., Toby asked, "Shouldn't we have some sort of agreement or something? I mean, guys with money always do that, don't they? To protect their assets?"

Sam, who was driving, said, "Maybe. Alistair said something about an agreement-one to protect you, too."

"Me? What do I have? I'm just a junior accountant."

"You have me, don't you? That's gotta be worth something."

Toby twisted around in the seat so he could look at Sam. "Now that we're getting married, I guess I can ask this. If you don't want to answer, you don't have to." He took a deep breath. "Just how much money do you have? Ballpark figure."

Sam glanced over at him. "Are you sure you want to talk about this?"

"Why not? Unless you don't want to."

"You know, Toby, I've been afraid to bring up the subject of money. I don't want you to think... Well, to think I'm like that guy..."

"Jack? Sam, you are nothing, and I mean nothing, like Jack. He was a selfish user who did things only to satisfy his own ego, and I doubt he'll ever change." He smiled at Sam. "I have, though. I'm not the affection-hungry nineteen-year-old with raging hormones and a dick that's always hard that I was then. I'm learning to think with my head, the big one, and to sort out the emotional parts."

"I just don't want you ever to think I'm trying to buy you or make you different from what you are. I love you, Toby, with a passion that's so strong it scares me sometimes, and I don't want whatever money I might have to drive you away. That's why I try to be careful..."

"Like that silly watch you gave me for my birthday? The one with the Wal-Mart price tag? That was a very sweet thing to do, and you may never know how much I appreciated it. But I love you, too, Sam, and I will not allow something as stupid as money to come between us." He paused for a moment. "That's the long way to say 'yes,' I want to talk about it."

Sam gave a little unconscious shrug. "Okay, we'll talk about it. The first thing you need to know about my money is that it doesn't really mean much to me."

Toby laughed. "I've noticed."

"Well, it's true. When I was a kid I never had any money in my pocket, but I got along okay. Then I went to work for Harry, and I didn't really need any money. I lived in his house, he fed me and seemed to always be buying things for me. He..."

"Didn't he pay you?"

"Oh, yes. He paid me very well. But most of it went into a bank account, because I just didn't need much of it. He also gave me stocks and things, and they went into an account, too. There was a man, I forget his name, who took care of Harry's investments. He also took care of mine."

"So you didn't have to. Does Alistair take care of that now?"

"In a way. Alistair is a lawyer and runs a firm that manages people's money. They pay the bills and the taxes and that sort of thing and keep an eye on anyone who has anything to do with the money."

"You have any idea how much you actually have?"

Sam laughed. "You're not going to believe this Toby, but I don't, exactly. But let's see, the year-end accounting said I had something like eight million dollars, give or take. Probably a little more now."

Toby took a moment to digest this. "Harry left you very well off."

"He did. But you need to understand that he didn't leave me that money. It's money from my salary and the stocks and stuff that Harry gave me over the years. Well, that and the investment savvy of Alistair's firm."

Sam went on to explain about the trust and how it owned everything that Harry left. "The trust owns the house in Palm Springs, the one in Beverly Hills and all the investments and cash Harry had. I'm the trustee on the trust so, I guess in the long run, it belongs to me. The trust is worth far more than my paltry eight million dollars." He grinned. "So there you have it, the complete financial story of Samuel Davis."

"That's a little breathtaking, Sam."

"Yeah. But see, Toby? It doesn't do anything for me if I'm alone, if I don't have anyone to share it with-and to love."

"You could buy a lot of love with all that money, Sam."

"No, I could buy a lot of sex with all that money. Maybe even a few professions of love, but nothing more." He laughed. "But you're right about the sex. Believe me. I tried it for a time, after Harry was gone, and I was kind of at loose ends."

"Was it fun?"

"Not really. Not much better than I could do all by myself."

"So what do you do with all that money?"

Sam looked over at him. "Well, I leave a lot of it alone, in the account. But I do have a couple of little things I do. I pay Jeremy Scott's salary, for instance. You know, the guy who runs the Desert Aids Help?"

"You pay his salary?"

"Sure. That way, the agency can use the money they'd otherwise have to pay him to solve other problems. I have a guy, too."

"A guy?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, a guy. I don't even know his name, but he's got AIDS and can't work. So I help him, pay his rent, buy his drugs, that sort of thing. This way he can concentrate on getting better."

Toby shook his head. "The things I don't know about you..."

They got to Alistair's around nine-thirty. His office was on the fifty-third floor of the Aon Center on Wilshire and had an incredible view of Los Angeles.

When they entered the office, a secretary stood and said, "Oh, Mr. Davis. And Mr. Litchfield. Please go right in; he's expecting you."

Sam knocked once before they went into the most elegant office Toby had ever seen. Alistair came around the desk and went to shake hands with Sam, but Sam was having none of it and pulled Alistair into a tight hug. "It's been a long time, Alistair. I've missed you."

"That's very nice of you to say, Sam. Thank you." He turned to Toby. "And you must be Sam's young man." He shook Toby's hand. "Welcome, Toby," he said warmly.

Alistair offered them the use of his bathroom, and they both took him up on it, although, out of deference to Alistair, they used it separately. Then, with cups of coffee and a plate of cookies, they got down to business.

The first thing was Toby's new account and the five-hundred-thousand dollars in it. Alistair explained the reasoning behind it, which Toby found silly but a sweet gesture. Then they went through the Partnership Agreement, which basically said everything each of them owned prior to becoming domestic partners would remain his own property. Everything acquired afterward would be joint property. Both of them thought that silly but signed anyway.

Then came the actual domestic-partnership form. The secretary was invited in to notarize it, and then they were done. Sam and Toby were as close to being married as they could get in the state of California.

"You will join me for lunch," Alistair said, after the final signing. They both nodded, still slightly in awe of what they'd just done.

Lunch was served in Alistair's small dining room, which presented the diners with a view all the way to Griffith Park. They were served Lobster Quiche accompanied by a green salad and freshly baked rolls.

"He's still with you, huh?" Sam said when he took his first bite of the quiche.

"Albert? I don't know what we'd do without him."

Dessert was puff pastry swans filled with chocolate mousse. Sam and Toby's plates had Congratulations written in chocolate around the rim. When the champagne was poured, Pol Roger Sir Winston Churchill Cuvéé, Alistair's favorite, Albert came in to offer a toast. He was very pleased when both Sam and Toby hugged him and told him how much they appreciated the lunch.

After they'd taken their leave, sitting in the car in the parking garage, they held each other and shared a long kiss.

"I have an urge," Sam said.

"So do I," Toby answered, in a husky voice.

Sam laughed. "I have that one too, but..." He paused, looking at Toby. "I know that neither one of us is into jewelry, but now that we're as good as married, that we're a family, I think we should have rings-something very simple-to symbolize what we've done, what we are."

Toby thought about it for a moment. "I think that's a very good idea, Sam. And we should do it now, before... Well, you know."

They went to Tiffany where a well-kept, gray-haired salesman seemed to know exactly what they wanted. They decided on his first offering, wide gold bands with a slight bevel on each side. They were, as the salesman said, simple, understated and elegant.

"And what shall we engrave on the inside?"

"I never thought about engraving," Toby said. He turned to Sam. "What..."

"I think I want something like, Toby, Since August 18, 2005."

"Perfect. And mine will say, Sam, Since August 18, 2005."

The salesman smiled. "A lovely sentiment, gentlemen. Will tomorrow afternoon be acceptable? We will, of course, deliver them."

They agreed and told him the name of the hotel where they were staying.

As they were leaving Sam said to Toby, "You know, we ought to take something to your folks, don't you think?"

Toby looked around and spotted a silver Revere bowl. "Mom would love that, as long as she didn't know how much it cost."

Sam nodded and smiled. "I'll never tell. We'll get the glass liner, too, so she can put flowers in it."

They stayed at The Mozart in Beverly Hills, a small hotel made up mostly of small bungalows, although there were a few rooms in the central building. The grounds were lush with tropical plantings, and there were small swimming pools scattered around among the bungalows. It was the perfect place for a honeymoon.

Once they were in their bungalow and the cute little bellhop who had shown them its features was gone, they fell into each other's arms and spent a long time looking into each other's eyes.

"It's done," Sam said. "You and I are now we."

"Never in my entire life did I picture myself a married man," Toby said. "Thank you."

They slowly undressed each other and made love like it was the first time. After dinner they did it again.

On the next day, after breakfast, they drove over to the Beverly Hills house.

"My God, Sam!" Toby exclaimed as they drove through the gates, "this isn't a house. It's a mansion!"

Sam shrugged. "I guess. When you live in something for all those years, you kind of take it for granted."

"So someone wants to buy it?" Toby said as Sam unlocked the front door. "What's it worth?"

"I don't know. A couple of million, I guess, maybe three. Alistair said the guy wants to tear it down and build something more contemporary."

"Three million for a teardown? You've got to be kidding."

Sam turned and looked at him. "You want to live here? Maybe keep it as a weekend place?"

Toby looked around. "Not really. I mean, if we were going to have a weekend house, I'd rather be at the beach, not here in town."

Sam considered. "Me, too. Maybe a villa in Mexico. Or Australia. We could go in the winter, when it's summer there."

"Sam!"

"Well, why not? Think about it. But for now, come on, I'll show you around the place. And watch for stuff we should keep-take down to Palm Springs."

They spent several hours at the house, Sam reliving old memories and Toby marveling at the beautiful things scattered everywhere. Furniture, paintings, knickknacks, all of it quite wonderful in his eyes.

When they left, they went back to Rodeo Drive where Sam insisted that Toby buy a shirt that had caught his eye. "I don't need that shirt," Toby argued. "It's pretty and all that but-"

Sam cut him off. "You need clothes, Toby. I see what you wear to work every day. You have three suits, and one of them is getting just a little threadbare. Now come on."

They went into the shop and spoke to a good-looking young man who only by an effort of will was able to contain his drooling over Toby. Sam, for his part, kept the salesman busy and out of the changing room-and hid the price tags of the things Toby tried on.

In the end, Toby bought five suits-none of which needed further alterations than the cuffs-and seven shirts. Sam picked out a dozen pairs of underwear for him, all in deep-jewel tones. He also made Toby buy three pairs of Crockett & Jones loafers. "Those are really good shoes," he said, "and your feet will thank you for them a hundred times over. Trust me on this."

When all his purchases were rung up and totaled, Toby turned pale. When he went to sign the Visa slip, his hand actually shook. Sam made arrangements to have everything shipped to the condo in Palm Springs.

Back at the hotel, Sam took Toby in his arms, kissed him and said, "You're wonderful, you know that? I thought sure you were going to argue when the guy rang up that stuff, but you signed for them with hardly a flicker."

Toby kissed him back. "Sam, I nearly couldn't do it. I couldn't even remember how to spell my name. All the clothes I've ever had, put together, didn't cost that much." He paused and smiled. "But someday I'll get the hang of this, being married to a man with money."

Sam began to undress him. "Don't forget, you're a man with money, too."

"There was so much going on, I never thanked you for that, did I." He started to unbutton Sam's shirt. "The money?"

Sam let him pull the shirt off. "Actually it was Alistair's idea." He opened the button on Toby's jeans and pulled down the zipper. "A good one, I thought."

"Well then, thank you, Alistair."

"You're not wearing underwear."

Toby shrugged. "I stashed them in my back pocket, after I tried on all those clothes." He grinned wickedly. "I thought we might be in a hurry sometime today."

"No hurry, Toby. We have all the time in the world."

They did hurry, though, at least getting started. Then it was long, slow and deeply satisfying.

They were in that half light between sleep and wakefulness when there came a knock at the door. "Who the hell can that be?" Sam grumbled as he grabbed a robe and stumbled out to the living room.

He was back a few moments later, carrying a light-blue box tied with a white ribbon. "You ready?" he asked.

"Wait. I have to pee."

When he returned, Sam was naked again, sitting on the bed and holding the box.

"What is it?"

"It's from Tiffany," Sam said, holding the box out to Toby.

Toby took the box and sat next to Sam on the bed. He realized his hands were shaking just a little as he untied the white ribbon. When he opened the box he found two pale-blue presentation boxes: one marked Sam and one marked Toby.

"Do you suppose," Sam said when Toby handed him one of the boxes, "the names on the boxes refer to us or to what's engraved in the ring?"

Toby looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Open it, Sam. Just open it."

It turned out that the names described what had been engraved inside the ring; thus Sam had Toby's ring and vice versa. Each took the ring he had and carefully pressed it onto the ring finger of the other. There were no words, but each knew what the other was thinking.

"It's beautiful, Sam." He turned the ring slightly on his finger. "Now I can touch you any time I want, even when I'm sitting in that drab little office at the hotel. You'll always be with me."

"And you with me. Always." He pulled Toby into a hug and held him for a long time.

They went to Spago for dinner that night, even if Toby did have to wear a tie. They were late, of course, being otherwise occupied for longer than they should have been, but it was okay because their table wasn't ready anyway.

Because Toby couldn't make up his mind, they had the Chef's Tasting Menu which consisted of eight courses, each hardly more than enough to savor the dish but altogether more than enough. Each course was accompanied by a different wine, several of which were so good that Toby asked the waiter to make a note of their names.

Sam had prudently suggested they take a cab to the restaurant so neither one had to drive back to the hotel that night.

As they were undressing, Sam said, "I'm not really ready for bed. You know what I'd like to do?"

Toby, in just his underwear, was hanging up his shirt. "What?"

"I want to go for a swim. Come on; it'll help settle all that food."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Toby said with a smile. "I'll have to wear these, though. I didn't think to bring a bathing suit."

Sam, who was rooting around in the bar for a couple of snifters, said, "No. Wear the one like mine."

"The one... Sam, you're naked."

"That's the one. Your birthday suit." He found the snifters and poured some Hennessy Paradis cognac in them. "Besides, who's going to see us?"

So, wearing nothing but the hotel bathrobes, they went out to one of the small pools, which, as Sam had predicted, was deserted.

They swam for a while, and Toby had to admit it did make him feel better. When they tired of swimming they pulled themselves up out of the water and sat on the edge, holding hands, dangling their legs in the water and sipping their Hennessy.

"Hi, men." It was a nice-looking older man, carrying a drink in a tall glass. He walked over and stood beside them. "Is it okay to do that? Swim naked out here?"

Sam looked up and grinned at the man. "Well, no one said it wasn't, so I guess it must be."

The man put his drink down on a little table and stuck out his hand. "Nicholas Avery," he said, "better known as Nick."

Sam stood and shook the man's hand. "Sam Davis. Nice to meet you Nick." He helped Toby up. "And this is my partner, Toby."

"Uh... Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Not at all. A little company is always welcome." Sam toasted him with his cognac.

"Well, thank you." Nick proceeded to pull off his shirt and step out of his shorts. Like Toby that afternoon, he wasn't wearing any underwear. He unconsciously tugged at his dick once and then jumped in the pool. He swam a couple of quick laps and then pulled himself up, retrieved his drink and sat beside them. "God, that feels good," he said, "swimming naked. Don't get much chance to do that in Cleveland."

"I guess you need your own pool to do that, huh?"

Nick laughed. "More than that. The wife doesn't approve. Says people see too much of you."

"Yeah," Toby observed. "It's hard to put on airs or have attitude when you're naked."

Nick laughed again, pleased that they had gotten his meaning. "Alaina, that's my wife... Alaina, like an awful lot of women, is pretty concerned with what the neighbors might think. Me, I don't give a damn. Let 'em think what they want."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the feel of the warm night air.

"You men gay?"

Sam gave him a quick look. "Yeah."

"Thought so." Nick looked down at his feet, dangling in the water. "My son's gay."

"Is that a problem?"

Nick looked up. "Not for me. He's a good boy. Designs airplanes over at Lockheed." He was quiet for a moment, then: "Besides, you can't help the way you're born; you just work with what God gave you. Do the best you can."

There was another long silence. Toby broke it by asking what the boy's mother thought about it.

"Well, she looks at it a little differently. Oh, she loves the boy and all, but, like I said, she kind of worries what the neighbors and her friends might think." He looked from Toby to Sam. "You... together? I mean, like..."

Sam and Toby silently held out their left hands, showing him their new rings.

"Good for you. Buster, that's my son-kind of a silly name for a thirty-four year old man, but that's what we've always called him-has a... I don't know what you call him." He looked at Sam. "A friend? A..." He pointed at Toby, "What do you call him?"

Sam smiled. "We think of ourselves as partners."

"We have friends who call themselves boyfriends, others who call themselves spouses," Toby observed. "But we like partners. Life partners. You should ask your son what they want to be called."

"How long have they been together?" Sam asked.

"Eight or ten years. We didn't know about him until they'd been together for a while."

"What's his name?"

"Jon. Without the h. Funny way to spell it, but there it is. Nice guy. He always hugs me when I see him. Buster, too, now." He sounded kind of wistful.

Toby drained his cognac. "You want some?" he asked, pointing at Nick's glass.

Nick shook his head. "No, I'd better get to bed. Buster and Jon are picking me up in the morning; we're going somewhere for breakfast out at the beach." He smiled. "Buster knows how much I love the beach. Don't have anything like it in Cleveland." They all stood while Nick pulled on his shorts and shirt.

When Sam held out his hand Nick pulled him into a hug. He did the same to Toby. "I sure have enjoyed talking with you men. Thank you." He turned to go but then turned back. "I'll remember to ask them. What they want to be called." Then he was gone.

"You want a little more cognac? I'll get it if you do."

"Yeah, I think just a tiny bit more. Then we'll go to bed."

Toby walked back to the room, forgetting all about his robe.