"Now this is a place!" Maizy exclaimed, taking a look at the Standishes' manor, "This is where I want to live when I grow up."

"Dream on," Tia said softly.

"Hey, maybe you will, Maizy, you never know," Buck told her. He put out his pipe. "This shouldn't take more than ten minutes, I hope," he told the others, "Then we've got just one more before it's sledding time."

"I saw three names on your list, Buck," Chanice said.

"The one's with Del Griffith, I can just drop in with him at my leisure," Buck said, "Keep yourselves warm while I'm out."

He got out of the car and strode to the monstrous front doors. He had, like Maizy, always dreamed of a place like this, and although almost twenty years of losing lottery tickets and race horses hadn't made the dream come true yet, he was still hoping to luck out. His mission for the day had certainly lucked out in the fact that he'd had some of Chanice's spare snow tires in the trunk. His knock on the doorbell was answered by a Hispanic butler. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Hi, I called for a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Standish about their daughter, Buck Russell's the name," Buck told him.

"Oh yes, but you'd better be quick, because Madam is leaving today," the butler told him.

"Isn't it a little late to leave for vacation?"

"No, I mean she's leaving," the butler explained. Buck caught on. "On Christmas Eve? Boy, I don't know how the rest of the family's going to take that, on Christmas no less," he commented.

"Oh it's no surprise," the butler said, "She's been threatening it for years. The only surprise is that she didn't leave sooner."

"Can I come inside?" Buck felt like he was facing an uphill climb already.

"Please do," the butler waved him inside. Buck whistled at the elaborate architecture in the foyer. "Very nice," he said, "What country was this modeled after?"

"Massachusetts, that's where the family came from, originally," the butler said.

"Exactly," Buck said sheepishly. He noticed something familiar on the radiator. "Hey, you're into Sheriff Bud Boomer, Epsilon Force!" he exclaimed, picking up a comic book, "My nephew's into these, and he got me hooked."

"It's great writing, isn't it?" the butler said.

"You better believe it," Buck said, "And I mean, with the world the way it is now, you'd think a concept where the president hires a small town sheriff and his trigger-happy deputies to be the head of this wild and crazy international peacekeeping force wouldn't be funny, but the way the write it, I don't think Stan Lee could have done it any better." He leafed through the book. "Tell me, how'd they get out of Dr. Anguish's Oatmeal Pit trap from the last issue?" he had to know.

"Now if I told you, would you really read it afterwards?" the butler posed.

"Good point," Buck conceded, "That's another thing that's so unique about it, how it can so effectively mix realistic threats, like with that mad bomber a few issues back who was blowing up all the dams, with the ridiculous with Dr. Anguish and General Panic and their overblown 60s plots. Now I'd...."

"Octavio!" came a shout from up the hall. Mrs. Standish was storming toward them, about a half dozen suitcases draped over her arms. "I told you to get these in the car over an hour ago!" she shouted at the butler, "My flight out of here leaves in an hour and a half!"

"Mr. Russell here would like to have a word with you and the mister," Octavio indicated Buck. "It'll just be quick, Mrs. Standish," Buck added.

"I'm not Mrs. Standish," she said sternly, "Not anymore."

"I know, but I think this is important for Claire's sake," Buck stressed. Mrs. Standish groaned. "All right, but I refuse to be in the same room with Louis anymore!" she said firmly.

"Okay, I'll arrange it so that you can stay in the hall and he stays in one of these rooms," Buck said. Mrs. Standish nodded in resignation. "Stay here," he told her. "Mr. Standish is where right now?" he asked Octavio.

"Don't forget your stupid Louis XV vase, Vanessa!" Mr. Standish's voice from the stairwell over them answered Buck's question. Moments later, the vase in question came crashing down to the ground floor, where it shattered into a million pieces. "How dare you!" Mrs. Standish screamed up at her now ex-husband, "That was in the family for six generations!"

"Well it not part of MY family anymore, and you have a problem with that, my bloodsucking lawyer will gladly....!"

"TIME OUT!!!" Buck shouted over the din. "Who the hell are you!?" Mr. Standish yelled down to him.

"I'm Buck Russell, the guidance counselor, I called ahead that I'd be here," Buck called up, "If you and your wife--sorry, former wife--have a minute, I need to ask one question; is this divorce you're apparently so bent on OK with Claire?"

"Who cares!?" Mrs. Standish yelled right in his ear, "I've been in this house too long! If she doesn't like it, she can take it up with one of those professional psychiatrists; Lord knows Louis gives her enough money to buy half of this city!"

"Are you accusing me of bribery, Vanessa!?" Mr. Standish bellowed down.

"Yes I am, you big heel!" Mrs. Standish screamed up at him, "You pay her off with everything you can to try and keep her loyalty, and even though you always win with that, rest assured I'm going to win in court and see to it that you never see her again! Do you understand the words coming from my mouth!?"

"You do and I'll get so many restraining orders on you that you won't be able to leave whatever dump heap you take up in once you leave her without violating a....!"

"TIME OUT AGAIN!!!" Buck yelled. "Boy, I'm glad I don't have to deal with this on a daily basis," he said to himself. "Can the two of you please act like civilized human beings for one minute?" he pleaded the Standishes. Now I may not be privy to whatever's wrong with your marriage, and I'm not going to try and tell you to stay together, because I can see that I'd be fighting a worthless battle, but could you please keep your daughter in mind when you go tearing each other's throats out? She doesn't deserve to be an innocent victim stuck in the middle of...."

"Look, I don't have time for this right now," Mrs. Standish shoved her watch in his face, "I have a flight to catch. You and Louis go talk about the joys of utopian life; I'm off to a happy place."

"That wouldn't happen to be the nuthouse, would it Vanessa?"

"Oh burn in hell, Louis!!" Mrs. Standish growled her parting insult.

"Octavio, pick up this crap and get it loaded; I'm out of here!" she ordered the butler. Octavio gave Buck a weary shrug and carried the last several suitcases outside.

"And when you do land, I'll make sure Johnnie Cochran's there with my affidavit against you!" Mr. Standish shouted out the second floor window as the limo bearing his ex-wife sped away. "Sorry you had to witness that, mister," he told Buck as he came down to the first floor, "But over the past three years living with her is even worse than hell."

"I could have guessed," Buck commented, "I've had my disagreements with my fiancée over the years, but we've never argued as hard as I just saw." He thought this over for a moment, then added, "Well, there was the spat last February, but I'd only put that about the three-quarters mark."

"Mr. Russell, I have a meeting with my attorney in an hour to discuss my battle plan in the courtroom, so I hope you could hurry this up somewhat," Mr. Standish said, straightening his tie.

"Oh this will be quick; how long will you be there?" Buck inquired.

"Probably about four hours, why?"

"How do you plan to break it to Claire?"

"I'll call in the middle of it; don't you worry about it Mr. Russell, I'll make it up to her," Mr. Standish said dismissively.

"Make it up to her? Her mother walked out; you can't just make that up," Buck argued.

"Well for your information Claire and her mother were never close, and she had always been more than happy to take my makeup presents without any arguments whatsoever," Mr. Standish said, "In fact, she'll be thrilled to hear that the whole thing's over. I caught her looking at a fur coat in Marshall Fields last week; I can probably get her that as a gift."

"Uh Louis--I can call you Louis, can I?"

"If you wish."

"Louis, I don't think it's a fur that Claire would want in return for household peace," Buck said, "I think it's parental love that would really make her Christmas bright. I've been aiming for big money and rich cars and houses my whole life, but now that I think about it, I'm a million times happier dirt broke with my nieces and nephew to keep my company." He stopped short as he realized that what he had just said was an unconscious repudiation of everything he'd dreamed of his whole life, then recollected himself and continued, "I'm sure she'd be glad an unhappy marriage would be over. But if you're not able to be an effective father, she'll just be left high and dry and lonely. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

"Of course," Mr. Standish said, not sounding like he meant it, "I'll look into it after I get back later today. Merry Christmas to you sir."

"Merry Christmas," Buck sighed, shaking his hand. "Jean Claude," Mr. Standish called back upstairs, "Get my coat ready. I'm leaving in ten minutes."

He walked out of the foyer just as Octavio the butler came back in. "So, how'd it go?" he asked Buck.

"Oh fine," Buck said, "He listened to me but shrugged me off."

"Don't feel bad," Octavio reassured him, "Everyone gets shrugged off around here."

"I'll bet," Buck said. He leaned in closer and asked, "So, since you're an insider here, I need to know, how does Claire take this separation thing?"

"She puts on a brave face and pretends it doesn't affect her," Octavio told him, "But you can tell it rubs her deep to see it all collapse."

"Um hmm," Buck noted, "From what I can judge they do that a lot these days. When did Mr. and Mrs. Standish start to, well, grow apart?"

"About ten years ago," Octavio said, "They never really grew close in the first place, since they only married for the money."

"That explains a lot," Buck said with a snort, "Well, I have one more appointment today, and then it's vacation time, so I hope you and the rest of the household here have a reasonably happy holiday, and when you see Claire next, tell her that if she needs to talk to me personally to call my number at home or at my brother's place, um, do you have a pen so I can write it down?"

Octavio handed him one from his pocket. Buck filled out Bob's number on the back of his card and handed it to him. "Take care," he said, turning to go.

"You know something?" Octavio asked him as he was halfway out the door.

"What?" Buck spun back around.

"Since you brought it up earlier, I have to say that you look an awful lot like Sheriff Boomer without his beard," Octavio held up the comic for Buck's visualization. Buck examined it closely. "Gee, I don't know," he mused, "I mean, I can see where you get the idea, but I think he's a little rounder in the face." He shrugged and said, "Well, merry Christmas again," before leaving, whistling loudly to himself at the domestic decay he'd just witnessed.