A/N: All familiar characters/etc. belong to Janet Evanovich, only my words are my own. I am not making any profit from this.

First off, I just wanted to let you know that I haven't forgotten that I need to add an epilogue to 'Grace Under Pressure' to tie things up nicely and illustrate what that version of Steph and Ranger's HEA looks like, but while I'm deciding when to have that take place and what to include in it, I've decided to start another story. Also, I re-read parts of 'Grace Under Pressure' recently and whoa baby, it is alarmingly rife with typos (I blame my over-eagerness at posting which somehow hindered my proof reading ability). I'm going to try leaving a little time between finishing writing a chapter and editing/posting it, which should hopefully help with errors this time around.

I'm really excited about this new story, I've been super intense about setting up the timeline/outline and I think I've done a better job weaving the mystery and personal parts together so that the entire story is suspenseful/interesting and provides character growth/journeys throughout. I've also decided to try using flashbacks to tell the story in a (hopefully) riveting manner. The story has six parts and will be about 46-48 chapters including the epilogue. The first part will be nine chapters long and provide necessary background and letting you know who the characters are, what's going on in their lives and how they ended up where they are.

Also, this story is canon at its core, however only events from Books 1-6 (albeit an AU-ish version) are included. There are several significant changes that you'll be filled in on as the story progresses. I don't want to ruin how things are revealed organically throughout the story, but I hope it isn't confusing for those of you reading who are expecting or assuming more canon allegiance.

I'll do my best to update at least once a week and I appreciate any feedback/constructive criticism/comments that you may have.

I hope you enjoy it!

Part I. "A man, when he WISHes, is the master of his fate." - Jose Ferrer

Chapter 1

SP POV - 03 APR 2015

I walked up the sloped brick steps into Mompou, a posh Newark tapas and wine bar bragging a delicious ropa vieja panini and a coveted Zagat rating. I was welcomed to the restaurant with a burst of air conditioning as I let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the earth toned room. The staccato of my good luck Jimmy Choos, which transformed my average 5'7" frame to a formidable 5'11" courtesy of Alexander Ramos, against the hardwood floor was muffled by the boisterous lunch crowd as I navigated my way towards the back corner of the room where my lunch date was seated against the exposed brick wall at one of the circular, wooden tables. She looked equal parts anxious and excited, alternating between fidgeting with the neckline of her green sheath dress and tucking her expertly tousled blonde hair behind her ear.

"Hi, I'm Stephanie Plum," I stated, holding out my hand for her to take as both I and my straightened, slick (and hopefully sophisticated) ponytail of chestnut hair came to a standstill.

"I know, you're Miss Plum!" she exclaimed excitedly, shaking my hand, her brass bracelets clinking lightly. "It's so great to finally meet you. I'm Natalie Drew."

"Stephanie or Steph, please. And it's nice to meet you as well," I replied with a wide smile, taking the seat across from Natalie.

"So, Stephanie, I just want you to know I am a huge fan of your work. Your designs run the gambit from girl-next-door to risqué and I'm just so very excited that I was the staff member chosen for your interview."

"Thank you! I was just crazy excited when my assistant got the phone call to set this up. Who would have thought that the mavens in charge of Vogue Magazine would want to interview me!"

"Well, w*ish lingerie is one of the new must-have items for the quintessential modern woman and we at Vogue are just fulfilling our civic duty to let fashionable women everywhere know!" she replied with a laugh and infectious smile. "So, the way this works is there will be an article in next month's magazine highlighting you and your brand which will be accompanied by photographs of sample items your PR and Marketing firm have already provided to us."

"Okay, sounds great! So, questions?" I asked just as our waitress arrived to take our orders.

"So, where were we?" I asked after we'd both placed orders for salads. I'd opted for a salad I'd begrudgingly admit sounded rather delicious for fear I'd stain my designer apparel. Natalie, however, didn't look like the klutzy type. She was probably more the annoyingly health conscious type. Well, maybe we could still be friends as I am a strong advocate of overly ambitious optimism. Hell, it's part of the reason I was currently being interviewed for designing luxury lingerie.

"I was just about to ask you about your buy one send one campaign. It's a wonderful philanthropic initiative that's really increased w*ish brand popularity. Where did that idea stem from?" Natalie asked after setting up a tape recorder and retrieving a small notepad and pen from her purse.

"It's something I've been wanting to do since I first had the idea for w*ish. Initially, I didn't have the resources or capital to do it, so it was sort of like a one year anniversary of the boutique and brand gift to myself," I explained animatedly. "The way it works is for every item in certain lines that is purchased, we send another of that item to support the troops abroad. It's worked out really well so far. We've received some thank you cards and they've just been incredibly touching."

"That's great! How did you come up with that idea?" Natalie asked, gesturing for me to go on with my explanation.

"Well, I was raised in a staunchly Catholic household, with helping other and being charitable being constantly preached yet rarely put into action. And I guess as a child I just never understood why my mother and the parents in the community in which I grew up were more interested in having everyone fit their socially acceptable roles and ostracizing those who displayed individuality to actually follow any of the lessons they were claiming to hold in such high esteem. I just really wanted to find a way to help and I know in the scheme of things this is small, but it's something, a starting point at least," I explained.

"It's really not nothing. It's one of the reasons we're doing a multi-page feature on you and w*ish lingerie. Well, that and the fact that the designs are fabulous!"

"Thanks, I really appreciate hearing that. I'm hoping as profits increase, especially in this next year, I'll be able to extend the program to providing items to women in domestic violence and homeless shelters."

"Wow, I wish you all the best with that!"

"Thanks!"

"So, can you tell me a little about the various design lines available at w*ish?"

"Absolutely. So the first line was coquette*ish, I actually considered naming the boutique and brand coquette but then decided on w*ish and adding '*ish' to the end of all of the line names."

"Good call, it's very catchy."

"Thanks! Anyways, I started with coquette*ish in February of last year when w*ish first opened which is flirty yet sexy. Then we introduced support*ish which is casual and comfortable and sport*ish, the new iterations of which is available now," I explained as the waitress brought our salads. "After that was glam*ish which was the collection I designed specifically for Lingerie Fashion Week last October."

"Yes, I remember. It is an exceptional set of designs, very sexy and bold. I heard that you're not planning on keeping that particular collection around?" Natalie asked with the skill of a seasoned reporter.

"That's true. I decided to keep the Fashion Week collections available for one year only."

"Hmm, interesting. Well, I'm definitely going to have to make a few purchases since glam*ish is a limited time collection! Have you started designing a new line for this year's Lingerie Fashion Week?"

"I have actually," I gushed, my calm business facade giving way to the excitement I felt. "It's going to be called nymph*ish and will be a bit more risqué with a definite boudoir feel."

"Wow, I can't wait! So, what are the other lines that are currently available?"

"Well, there's the slim*ish line which is the w*ish version of shape-wear, va-va-voom*ish which is extra padded and beach*ish which is our swim-wear collection," I elaborated.

"That is impressive, and I love the names! I believe I heard chatter about a new collection you're introducing in May, something about designs catered to nursing mothers?"

"Thank you and you're correct. The mommy*ish line will be available at the beginning of May."

"Just in time for Mother's Day I see!"

"Mhmm!" I added with a light laugh.

"So, when did you feel like you'd finally made it? That you and w*ish were definitely on the road to success?"

"Wow, I just, it's incredible and humbling to think that something I've spent years silently working towards is being dubbed a success by a Vogue journalist. It really just blows my mind and makes me want to break out into my happy dance!" I replied.

"Well, don't let me stop you!" Natalie countered with a smile to match mine.

"Maybe later, I wouldn't want Vogue readers to know how impressively spastic I can be!"

"No, we wouldn't want that," Natalie agreed with feigned somber.

"Anyways, I suppose I knew that w*ish would thrive when a few women from NYC had somehow stopped by the w*ish boutique here in Newark. When I asked them if I could help them with anything they told me that they heard about me and w*ish because of the Lingerie Fashion Week I attended and just had to make the trip."

"That is quite the compliment. Natives don't like to leave Manhattan for just anything!" Natalie joked.

"Exactly! I mean, my Grandmother, friends and local clients saying they love w*ish items is one thing, but commuting because they needed my designs, wow! And they also told me they were eagerly anticipating when I would open an additional location in NYC," I added.

"And? Is there any plan for that in the future?" Natalie prodded.

"Well…" I replied with a sly smile.

"Dish Plum!"

"Actually, there are currently plans in place to open several w*ish boutiques in America. We're thinking of opening around four stores in June and then another wave of stores in America around February of 2016. After that, I'm hoping to take w*ish international! We've had a very generous outpouring of support and interest in additional boutiques and I just can't wait for this next phase!"

"Wow, that is definitely something to look forward to!"

"I hope so," I replied earnestly.

"Now, onto the hard questions!" Natalie said with a playful glint in her eye.

"Oh no! I thought that was what we were doing!" I joked.

"That was just to lull you into giving me some scoop. What I really want to know about is where your inspiration for w*ish came from? You were a business major turned second tier lingerie buyer turned office manager for a security company. How did you dream up w*ish? And what motivated you to make your dream a reality?" Natalie queried.

SP POV - 12 OCT 2013

Happy birthday to me, I thought as I ate another heaping bite of yellow, store-bought birthday cake covered with sugary goodness in the form of pink buttercream frosting roses. Ugh, roses, the flowers of looove. Love shmove. Love is for suckers. A designation that, as of five short days ago no longer applied to me.

Yup, five days ago I was edified in the most shocking of ways. Apparently the relationship I was fully committed to, the relationship that I thought was built on a foundation of mutual trust, respect and friendship that we'd been fostering for the past 18 months, not to mention an abundance (over-abundance, if we're being honest, and it seems like the time for some brutal honestly) of physical attraction was caput.

How did I even end up here? Again? It's like every time I think I have a handle on life, something knocks me on my ass. At least it wasn't catching someone who claimed to love me and made vows to me in front of friends, family and God banging Joyce Barnhart, grade-school bully turned home-wrecker extraordinaire, on my dining room table.

See this here, me sitting alone staring out at the sunset on the private beach attached to a romantic beach rental that I'm now enjoying solo is the problem with interlacing your happiness with someone else's. It's an epiphany I stumbled upon sometime last night between crying my way through an entire box of Kleenex and an ice-cream sundae impressive enough to send me into a sugar coma. I need to be more reserved with giving out love, because when it isn't reciprocated in the manner I expect or it's snatched away without any warning, the fallout is devastating. I'm shattered and this is the last time I cobble the pieces back together because I refuse to do it anymore. I refuse to allow someone that kind of power over me or to live in that state of vulnerability ever again.

I totally get the whole lone wolf, being your own island thing now and I want that. Not to the extreme where you shut out all other people, but in whatever way that lets me maintain sole sovereignty over my happiness. Happiness, another elusive aspiration, much like true love or happily ever after or losing that last five pounds. Screw men, because well, they are the worst! From now on, I'm going to make my own happily ever after! Ha!

Although that's where my plan has started to falter. What would make me happy? What would make me, a notoriously non-morning person, excited to get up in the morning and greet the day? What is something I could do for me?

The only thing that I really enjoy in my current life, aside from spending time with friends and the one family member who accepts and appreciates my individuality, is the time I spend doodling designs to relax after a stressful day or when inspiration strikes (which happens with embarrassing regularity when I'm forced to frequent the gym and am surrounded by sweaty, manly-men working out their aggression).

The lingerie designs had been my plan since I'd started Design School to celebrate my freedom from The Dick, my ex-husband, but I never really fleshed out the part of the plan where I take my designs and transform them into a reality. Maybe this is the universe's way of letting me know I need to start actively pursuing my someday, turning my dream into a wish and my wish into w*ish.

I could do this right? Stephanie Plum, high-end lingerie designer and boutique proprietor. It has a nice ring to it, although I'm not sure it will all fit on a tiny business card.

Grandma Mazur is going to be thrilled.

And demand to test my products.

SP POV - 03 APR 2015

"Oh my gosh, what happened next?" Natalie demanded.

"Well, it was one thing when Grandma Mazur dubbed herself the official w*ish product tester, it was another when she and her friends from the Clip 'n Curl made bejeweled tube tops with 'w*ish tester' emblazoned on them and proceeded to go on a cross-country senior bus trip. Apparently it led to some very blue conversations with geriatric men across the nation!"

"Wow, just wow! I totally want to steal your granny. She's amazing!" Natalie gushed.

"Yeah, she is a force of nature. Definitely a huge factor in my being able to turn w*ish from a few binders full of sketches to a successful boutique and being interviewed by you for Vogue," I replied sincerely.

"Thank you for your time and especially your candor in answering all of my questions. I especially loved hearing about you're Grandmother's contributions to your new career!" Natalie said after a handful of additional questions about w*ish and me.

"Anytime," I replied as we both got up from our seats at the artfully worn wooden table. "I brought you a little something as a thank you for taking the time to come out here for the interview and for Vogue's interest in the first place." I handed her a plum gift bag with 'w*ish' scrolled on it in matte gold lettering that matched the tissue paper peeking out of the top of the bag.

"Oh wow! Thank you so much, my boyfriend is going to be thrilled! And I'll send you a copy of next month's Vogue so you have a preview of the article."

"Can't wait!" I replied, excited for my Vogue debut.

"It been great getting you know you Steph, I wish you and w*ish all the best!" Natalie added with a quick hug before we parted ways outside of Mompou and headed off into the sunny Newark afternoon.

SP POV - 03 APR 2015

Crappity crap crap! I was running late to our monthly Girls' Night and, sadly, no amount of speeding would remedy the situation. And after I made a monumental deal about some of my friends running late the last couple of times, they're definitely going to lord this over me. I know it's not a legit thing to get worked up about and I fully blame PMS and lack of readily available Butterscotch Krimpets (apparently I'd depleted my secret stash earlier in the month while dealing with manufacturing issues).

After a few minor traffic violations, I pulled my silver-blue Mazda CX-5 into the first parking spot available and dashed into The Black Olive, a Greek restaurant boasting a vibrant atmosphere and the most potent ouzo in New Jersey. I walked under the portico supported by white, circular columns that were also dispersed throughout the restaurant's interior and asked the bubbly hostess to show me to my party, all of whom had already arrived, she eagerly informed me. I walked up to a circular wooden table situated towards the center of the dining area surrounded by my friends clearly enjoying their evening and the hummus appetizer.

"Well, well, well. Look at who finally deigned to grace us with her fabulousness!" my oldest friend, Mary Lou Stankovic, welcomed me while highlighting my late arrival to everyone. Mary Lou and I had suffered through Mrs. Sarkozy's menopausal diatribes during Kindergarten, bullying that would anger even the mildest of feminists courtesy of Trenton town slut and serial trophy wife, Joyce Barnhart and our unrequited, unabashed admiration for Mr. Conti, our 11th Grade World History teacher who resembled a Ken doll (although we very much hoped he wasn't rocking a smooth down-there area because that would absolutely ruin his epic hotness). Mary Lou waved me over to the seat next to her while she relocated a chunk of her wavy, light brown hair, styled in the stereotypical mom bob (something she had acquired to celebrate the birth of the first of her three children), behind her ear.

"Hey ladies, sorry for running late" I replied while slipping into the blue-cushioned seat between Mary Lou and Calista Cooper, my roommate from Rutgers. Calista, whom I'd loving nicknamed Coop upon meeting her while moving into our all-girl dormitory (or 'The Virgin Vault', as it was more commonly known), was a curvy, 5'4", feisty firecracker with a severely limited bullshit tolerance and a delightfully snarky sense of humor. She's managed to funnel all of her type-A crazy into her position as one of the top assistant DAs in Trenton.

"Mhmm girl, we know how it is, the fancy, jet-setting fashion designer forgetting all about us little people and keeping us waiting," Lula Johnson added jocularly while she popped piece of pita bread slathered in hummus into her fuchsia tinted mouth that perfectly complemented the cacophony of color that was Lula's fashion statement for the evening. She was swathed in a forest green and sunset orange spandex halter top, mini-dress that showcased her impressive milk-chocolate hued voluptuousness and matched her orange-streaked hair and larger-than-life personality. "Although, since my Tankie just can't get enough of all them sample curve*ish sets you had me test for you, I guess I can overlook some occasional lateness, just don't make it a habit!"

"And here I thought you'd cut Steph some slack because you missed spending time with her like we used to when she was working as the RangeMan office manager and would stop by a few times a week for donuts and Cluck-in-the-Bucket!" Connie Rosolli interjected. Connie was like a real-life Betty Boop. She was curvaceous with shoulder-length black hair constantly teased to within an inch of it's life and loved red in its many forms: ruby lipstick, scarlet nail polish, crimson clothes (and one awkward week where she couldn't be talked out of lava-hued mascara). Connie was a few years older than me and was the receptionist at my smarmy, pervert cousin Vinnie's bail bonds office where I'd secured Lula a filing job using my surprisingly impressive blackmailing prowess.

"Nah girl, I'm only willing to be more accommodating because of what curve*ish inspires Tankie to do!" Lula guffawed with a pointed eyebrow-waggle.

"Ugh, I'm so jealous of you and Coop, having such manly men. I swear, Duncan is going for the slowest of all slow burns," groused Victoria Slade, the third and final component of my college coterie. Victoria was a leggy waif with a platinum blonde graduated chin-length bob who mirrored Lula's love of bold colors, though she managed to limit it to her choice of lipsticks, accessories and shoes.

"Is Duncan that tall brunette with the sexy nerd glasses? The guy who came to pick your drunk booty up from our last Girls' Night?" Lula queried in her patented candid manner.

"Yup, that was Duncan," Victoria confirmed.

"Don't you mean Dashing Duncan?!" I teased. Coop and I had been taunting Victoria about Duncan Prince, corporate attorney extraordinaire, since she met him shortly after joining the family business post graduation. Now, at 29, she was the CEO of Slade Suites, a luxury hotel chain located in the North-East. W*ish joined Duncan's illustrious client list towards the end of 2013 and I'd gotten the chance to finally get acquainted with the Mr. Prince Victoria spoke so highly and dreamily of.

"Apparently Demure Duncan is more apropos, right Vic?" Calista corrected. "When are you crazy kids finally going to get past the oh so riveting will-they-won't-they drama and move on to the nauseating happily ever after bit?"

"That's just the nature of office romances, it's par for the course," the newest addition to our Girls' Nights, Camilla added with a sympathetic look in her caramel colored eyes.

"Well, if anyone would know, it would be you, Cam!" I quipped. "Speaking of which, how is Tuck doing?"

Tucker 'Tuck' Kruger was Camilla's business partner and co-owner of Mod Management. He was lean with a dirty blonde faux-hawk, an affinity for jelly beans, a crooked smirk he reserved strictly for Camilla and a long-standing crush which Camilla not-so-secretly reciprocated.

"He's great, whatever, shut-up. You can ask him how he is yourself at our meeting tomorrow morning when he goes over the new marketing materials for w*ish," Camilla huffed, tossing me a mock-glare and flipping her thick blackish-brown hair woven through with chocolate highlights back over her shoulder, a gesture that punctuated our first encounter and the multitude that have followed.

SP POV - 18 SEP 2014

I was trying to stifle yet another yawn while replenishing the supply of the ever popular selection of coquette*ish satin and delicate lace panties that I'd had manufactured in a variety of rich, gemstone colors when I noticed a customer leisurely perusing my designs and occasionally adding an item to her purple with gold stars w*ish mesh shopping basket. She was interrupted from her stroll through the exotic bouquet of lingerie that I was still amazed came from my very own imagination by a phone call. Instead of answering her phone, however, she glared at it and muttered "Ugh, I am sooo done with you asshats, you're on your own now!". She soldiered forward on her quest to examine all w*ish had to offer after tossing her thick bistre hair sprinkled with shimmering copper over her shoulder.

I meandered over to the display of balconette bras she was admiring to get to know someone who would hopefully become a returning client. "Hi, I'm Stephanie, is there anything I can help you with today?"

She jerked slightly, startled at having been approached and likely distracted by whomever had called. "Hey, I'm Camilla, and I'm actually just looking around today, a little window shopping therapy. I can't believe I've never heard of w*ish before. You guys have some really daring designs!" she exclaimed, carefully setting down the bra she'd been assessing.

"Well, we're a new company, only a little over seven months old, so we're still trying to get our name and, in my very humble opinion, superior products out to the public," I explained.

"Mhmm, PR and marketing, an often under-valued part of any business venture," Camilla hummed almost absentmindedly.

"So, how did you end up in our little valhalla of lingerie?"

"Well, I needed to let my equal parts crappy and fantastic day at work sink in and I figured what better way than to amble through the boutiques in downtown Newark!"

"I'm glad you stumbled upon w*ish, we really love foot traffic," I added with a smile before asking her to clarify her statement. "So was your day simultaneously crappy and fantastic or was it an amalgamation of crappy and fantastic bits that led to your jaunt?"

Camilla huffed loudly and ran a hand roughly through her hair in mental preparation for her explanation. "Well, today was the culmination of a little over six years of my hard work at a company that's chauvinist mentality has officially poisoned it's once pristine reputation for ingenuity. When I started working there right out of grad school, I was thrilled to be part of such a prestigious firm and filled with naive hope for all the opportunities I'd have to shine, contribute and turn my ideas into reality for the world to see," she ranted, flipping her tresses over her shoulder.

"So I take it reality didn't quite live up to the hype?" I asked cautiously.

She chuckled sardonically, "turns out they weren't so much interested in my ideas as they were in the fact that I embodied two of the three minority trifecta being both female and Latina. If I'd been handicapped too I probably could have gotten away with being a lazy leech like some of my coworkers."

"And you'd get a kick-ass parking spot," I pointed out.

"True!" she giggled, "although now I suppose it's too late."

"I'm sorry. I've worked in workplace saturated with testosterone but I was lucky. They were a solid team through anything they faced internally or externally and I was definitely a member of the team. I'm sorry your coworkers didn't realize that everyone, even, gasp, a woman, can contribute and that a cohesion of ideas usually yields the best results," I offered. "So, what was the fantastic part of your day? 'Cause right now, I'm just not seeing it? Unless it's meeting me and becoming acquainted with w*ish! Which I totally get, by the way!" I joked with a smile.

"Oh yeah, that," she said with a slightly sinister smirk, "I quit! I gave a pitch for a new account, ideas that were innovative and completely money in the bank, and my condescending boss told me he'd have to pass and went with the guy with the recycled ideas who barely scraped together enough credits for his bachelor's degree at a second rate college."

"What! Whoa, that is… wow. Well, it's their loss. You're clearly brilliant, if your taste in lingerie is anything to go by," I trumpeted, nodding to her half filled basket.

"Sorry, I just had to… ugh, get that off my chest. But I totally agree with you! Even though I'm pretty sure you're a little biased," Camilla added.

"Oh trust me, I'm a lot biased," I added conspiratorially, "I'm actually the w*ish designer!" I divulged with a face-splitting grin filled with pride, exuberance and a touch of sleep-deprivation induced hysteria.

"Oh wow, you're amazing. Seriously! I live in New York and I've seen tons of lingerie brands from the more plebeian Victoria Secret to La Perla to more exclusive boutiques like w*ish, but your designs and quality truly stand apart!" she gushed while gesturing to various pieces that caught her eye. "You know," she added in a deliberately slow cadence, "w*ish has a crazy amount of potential, from a business perspective," Camilla pondered, almost to herself, with her fingers strumming along the counter of the display we were at.

"Really?" I asked, "I think that but that's kinda like parents thinking their kid is the most brilliant being ever for mastering peek-a-boo…"

"Oh my gosh I totally agree, and I would know, as the aunt to nine little hellions. And if my siblings are anything to go by, you'd better hope no one hears your apt assessment of doting parents!"

"Crap, you're right!" I exclaimed jokingly while holding up a ecru, satin corset from the display we'd ambled towards to hide behind. "If anyone heard I'd run the risk of PTA moms across Jersey starting a phone tree to picket w*ish!"

"Hey!" Camilla exclaimed once we'd managed to stifle our giggles, "we're getting off topic!"

"Huh?" I queried.

"We're talking w*ish expansion," Camilla supplied as if it were obvious. "So basically first, we need to go big on publicity. We need to get the w*ish out there, mostly because it's just not fair to keep a gem like this secreted away from women everywhere," she explained with a slightly admonishing tone.

"Wait, we're what now?"

"Steph, seriously, keep up. Okay, so I think we should go the laughing Elmo toy route, you know?" Camilla shook her head and proceeded to explain her statement in response to my confused expression. "When the laughing Elmo toy came out, it was marketed in a way that made it seem like an insider scoop item which increased it's desirability tenfold. They marketed to parents, not kids, and made it where parents felt they had to have them for their kids."

"Oh, okay. But why would we want w*ish to seem like a limited access, membership only brand? I want all women to enjoy access," I countered.

"They will, and from what I can tell, you're making a decent profit but choosing not to mark up products as much as you could technically get away with, given the quality of the fabrics and designs, so we have the whole not-a-money-grubbing-faceless-corporation angle going for us. But if we make the brand exclusive and inform the public but not inundate them, we can keep the mystery and it'll work to increase demand. It's basic marketplace psychology," Camilla expounded.

"Okay, that makes sense," I added warily.

"Don't worry about that stuff, that's my job! You just focus on making more fabulous designs!" Camilla encouraged, smiling wide and eyes twinkling with excitement. "So, obviously we'll need to increase publicity for w*ish and you but keep it in the right markets, oh and mix in a smattering of interviews for you. The passion with which you talk about w*ish, it'll definitely garner the right kind of attention."

"Mhmm… wait what? Why do we have to get me out there?" a slight tension coloring my tone.

"Trust me, I am the professional after all. You will also need to round out the collection with a few new lines. Do you have any ideas on that?"

"Well since you asked, I do, but they're mostly just things I've been kicking around in here," I added, pointing at my temple as Camilla's excitement infected me and I couldn't help but join in on her impromptu brainstorming session. "Okay, so I'm planning to participate in the annual Lingerie Fashion Week in October with a new glam*ish line which is going to be crazy sexy boudoir chic. Oh and I was thinking about a few other lines that I think customers would enjoy, like one for swim-wear, shape-wear and for more voluptuous women."

"Those sound like a great way to populate the w*ish merchandise repertoire. And, if we stagger release dates, you could have a new line or new iteration of an existing line come out every two or so months, which would definitely keep interest and sales up! So, any other ideas or dreams for this place?" she asked me with a knowing look indicating she knew I was holding out on her.

"So, one of the big things I've wanted to do since the idea for w*ish first popped into my mind was to start a buy-one-donate-one program to help the homeless or domestic violence survivors. Oooh, or women serving in the armed forces," I gushed with overzealous and potentially hazardous hand gestures.

"That's amazing. Really. And I know you're not doing it for PR, but it will play like a dream. So when were you hoping to start that?"

"Well, I was hoping to be financially secure enough to do that by the one-year anniversary of w*ish, so this coming February," I answered trepidatiously.

"That is totally doable, as long as we start ASAP. And then the next milestone would be expansion," Camilla stated enthusiastically.

"Expansion?"

"Of course. We'd start small of course, maybe five to eight locations for the first wave and then another wave starting in about a year. The total number of locations would never get too excessive or out of hand, to maintain the veneer of exclusiveness, which would help you maintain the integrity of each w*ish location as well," was Camilla's succinct reply.

"But, is w*ish ready? I mean, this is a lot to wrap my head around," I eked out, the magnitude of what we were discussing finally catching up to me.

"Hey, don't worry about that, just take it one step at a time. I promise, you and w*ish are going to be successful. You trust me right?"

Baffled by the whirlwind before me who had apparently coopted a position of authority in securing the future of w*ish, I only managed to mumble a reply that Camilla took as acquiescence.

"Good, you should. I'm amazing at what I do, and my amazing is going to be reflected in your amazing!" Camilla responded with a confident nod and bright smile. "Wow, I feel really great about this! So, I'll get started on things on my end, you keep on designing gorgeous pieces of lingerie and we'll talk in a few days. I'll call to set up a meeting," Camilla announced while fishing something out of her black, seemingly bottomless purse. She pulled out a cream colored business card, scribbled something hastily on it and shoved it into my hand.

"Camilla, wait, we-I didn't- you don't even actually work a firm to be able to take on w*ish as a client, right?" I interjected, finally breaking through the cloud Camilla's exuberance had blanketed me with.

"Well, that's what makes this whole day kismet. I quit, stumbled into w*ish, met you, had this incredible vision of success for you and w*ish, and I'm actually in a position to follow through and turn a dream of mine into a reality as well!" Camilla exclaimed, her tenor increasing in furor.

"I suppose it has been very edifying meeting you and benefiting from your insight, but I'm still missing what qualifies this as kismet?"

"Well, I've been toying with the idea of…" Camilla began before becoming uncharacteristically subdued.

"The idea of what?" I gently prodded, adopting her hushed tone.

"Starting my own PR and marketing firm with Tuck, a friend from undergrad who is a marketing virtuoso," she explained hesitantly. "I've just been lacking the push I needed to really go for it."

"I say go for it. There's no time like the present and I can attest to the fact that doing something that is your own and you feel truly vested in is deeply fulfilling," I added encouragingly.

"True, and I want to build something that is mine. One of my older siblings is like my personal hero and one of the myriad of impressive things he's done in his life is build a company from the ground up and I can tell it fills him with pride to be a part of something in that way," Camilla added with a knowing nod. "Actually, the way you talk about w*ish kinda reminds me of him…" she added, clearly getting lost in a memory of her brother.

"Mhmm."

"You're right," Camilla announced. "And as a thank you for inspiring me take this step, I'm offering you the highly coveted position as Mint Management's first client!"

"Congratu- wait, what client? Mint Management?" I asked, finally having caught up with what Camilla was implying.

"Yeah, I agree, the name's not great. How about Mod Management or Meridian Management. Eh, I have a few days to work it out. But don't worry, Tuck and I will come up with something perfect by the time we have our first official meeting!" Camilla replied, completely oblivious to my confusion to when exactly during the course of our conversation I'd managed to hire Camilla and her as of yet imaginary PR and marketing firm.

"No time to chat now, but congrats on bagging me for all of your PR and marketing needs!" Camilla added cheekily with a wink as she sorted through the selections in her basket and moved towards the plum checkout counter currently manned by a very curious Mary Lou. "I have a vision for w*ish, and it leads to success!" she tossed over her shoulder as she was paying for her items.

I nodded numbly and replayed our conversation to evaluate how exactly some seemingly harmless girl talk turned into me hiring a fledgling firm to handle PR and marketing for w*ish, my work baby. Although, Camilla did have great insight and ideas and a desire to genuinely help me reach my goals, including my secret, never before spoken about aloud desire to expand w*ish to additional locations.

"Steph," my attention snapped to Camilla standing at the door to w*ish, "not to sound overly cheesy, but… I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," she added before sweeping out of w*ish with a large violet bag with gold crinkle paper bubbling from the top and w*ish etched in gold lettering along the sides.

Who knows, maybe she was right, us meeting could be kismet and together we'd be able to help each other achieve our respectively harbored aspirations. I let out a long, slow exhale as I processed the news of my latest (slightly unintentional) business decision. So far, going with my gut had worked out for me from choosing colors for various designs to the location of the boutique and so many small decisions in between. Hopefully hiring Camilla would fall into this category.

What I was certain of was that I was definitely ready for this step; ready to push my dreams for w*ish forwards. W*ish had been open for several months and we were solvent and making a pretty steady profit that ramped up whenever we introduced new lines. It was the perfect time to move forwards or I'd run risk becoming complacent. With newfound confidence in my supposed decision to hire Mint/Mod/Meridian Management, I walked towards my office in the posterior of the boutique past the dressing rooms equipped with rich, plum velvet curtains as doors and brushed gold accent hardware. I scribbled 'Meet with Camilla' at the end of my ever growing To Do: list and tossed her business card into my top desk drawer.

I was at the door about the reenter the boutique floor when I processed the flash of her business card that I'd subconsciously managed to scan a moment earlier and panic quickly flooded my body, paralyzing me. I couldn't have seen that, right? There's no way… It's just the lack of sleep and stress making me mildly delusional. That's a thing, right?

A few deep, lamaze inspired breaths later I maneuvered back to my tinted glass and gunmetal desk and steeled myself before retrieving the business card I'd just deposited. I reread the name on the card only to confirm the cause of my earlier dread. How was I always getting myself into awkward situations like this? Kismet my ass; this was karma.

After a brief, shameful second spent contemplating firing Camilla (can you fire someone you haven't actually hired?), I shook off the panic induced crazy. She and I bonded and she would do her best to help me and w*ish, and that's exactly the kind of person I needed. Besides, she'd be nothing like him, if our conversation that included actual words and no grunts, growls or other manly-man noises was anything to go by.

"Steph, sounds like we got an awesome new co-worker!" Mary Lou commented from the doorway to my office. "Everything okay," she added after taking in my blanched features.

"Y-yeah, we did. She is half of our new PR and marketing firm, Camilla Manoso," I replied in an even, empty voice.

"No way! Manoso? As in…"

"As in sister of Carlos 'Ranger' Manoso, my equal parts handsome and infuriating ex-boss? Yup, I think so," I said in the same hollow tone.

And in true best friend form, Mary Lou simply nodded as if it made complete sense and we should have expected something like this to crop up before motioning that she'd see me back out on the main floor and tossing me a look that implied she'd be there to talk with an extra cheesy Pino's pizza and a box of sugary confections whenever I was ready.

It would be fine, I'd be fine, I reassured myself, stressing the word fine in my mind and squashing the niggling doubt in the back of my mind. I decided that this situation merited a stamp in my passport for access to Denial Land for a few weeks or even months while I focused solely on the bright side. Sure, I'd barely managed to escape one pushy, overbearing Manoso just to trade in for another albeit younger, more loquacious model. At least this one is more likely to understand the importance of stress shopping and the fact that pineapple upside down cake could solve anything.

She probably has better phone manners too.

SP POV - 03 APR 2015

"So, why didn't Tuck come down from New York with you?" I asked once we'd all ordered and received our drinks.

"Eh," Camilla began, taking a quick sip of her krasi, Greek wine, "he didn't want to wade through the estrogen of our Girls' Night, so he's gonna drive in tomorrow."

"I don't blame him, after that time Duncan met all of you after we'd gone through a few pitchers of margaritas he issued a moratorium on designated driver duties post Girls' Nights," Victoria commiserated.

"Speaking of moratoriums, guess who I ran into at the Tasty Pastry this morning?" Connie segued.

"Oooh, gossip! Who'd you run into? Dish!" Calista demanded gleefully.

"So I stop by this morning to get my doughnut fix and I run into Angela Morelli and creepy Grandma Bella droning on and on about Gina Mancuso, the latest woman to fall short of the irreproachable and antiquated Burg standards because she divorced her deadbeat husband, when Helen Plum walks in with Edna Mazur," Connie shares.

Sadly, the Chambersburg chunk of Trenton provided a glimpse into the past where the men worked, women were consummate house-wives and children were expected to fall into their gender prescribed roles with no room for anything as scandalous as individualism. Needless to say, my childhood was punctuated with bursts of individualism and my mother constantly harping on me to emulate the behavior of Saint Valerie, my nauseatingly perfect sister.

"Oh gosh, what did Grandma Mazur do?" I queried hesitantly. Edna Mazur, my stick-in-the-mud mother's mother was a firecracker and a force of nature. She'd always been supportive of me from my dream of flying and fighting injustice like Wonder Woman when I was a child to encouraging (and secretly helping finance) my undergraduate business degree and finally as my own personal cheerleader when I started w*ish. She was a staunch advocate of doing what made her happy despite gossip and public opinion (chiefly finding herself a studly libertine since my Grandpa Mazur's death) whereas my mother's primary concern was always 'what will the neighbors think?' followed closely by how best to adhere to Burg standards and critiquing those who rebelled, especially me.

I grimaced slightly at Connie's mirthful expression. "So the second your Mom and Grandma walked in, Angela started talking about how you were a one-woman wrecking ball destroying the bastion of Burg ideals," she expounded with laughter.

"That backward, hypocritical bitch!" Calista exclaimed, clearly piqued. "I've had months were the only cases I've tried were prosecuting Morelli men for some crime or another, yet Steph, with her booming business that is affording numerous people gainful employment, is a disgrace! I swear, one of these days National Geographic is going to do a documentary on backwards Burg behavior."

"Agreed, and Angela Morelli will be baptized Queen Bee Burg Bitch!" Victoria chortled and Camilla nodded in agreement having heard me grouse about the Burg biddies on more than one occasion.

"Tell 'em what happened next," Lula demanded, riveted by the drama, "because we know Steph's Grannie don't stand for no smack talk against our girl."

"Oh, that's the best part! So, Grandma Mazur says how she's proud that you're paving the way for a new wave of Burg women who are sophisticated, independent and don't need a man though you definitely know what to do with some beefcake, her words," Connie answered.

"Oh wow, beefcake huh? Steph, you been holding out on us?" Calista jived me.

"Ugh, how is this my life!" I exclaimed, silently pleading Connie to end her story.

"Girl, that ain't even the best part. Connie, tell 'em what Steph's Grannie said next!" Lula prodded ebulliently, visibly vibrating in her seat with excitement.

"Right, so then Grandma Mazur says even Joe Morelli, the only good Morelli man, recognizes Steph's awesomeness, because what else would explain why he asks Steph out every chance he gets. Then she tells Helen she'll wait outside because she's allergic to the oppressive, anti-suffragette odor coming off of Angela and Bella Morelli!"

"I love your Grandma! Do you wanna trade?" Victoria jested.

"Hell no! But I will share!" I responded. "So, Calista, how're things going with the Volkov money laundering case?" I asked, hoping to encourage the topic along. Luckily my friends acquiesced and our campy colloquy continued.

SP POV - 03 APR 2015

After an interesting evenings spent with my enchantingly diverse group of friends, I headed to my home of the past 18 months. My luxury apartment community boasted secured key fob entry, coveted amenities, premium fixtures and appliances to achieve a blend of elegance and sophistication.

I parked in my assigned garage spot and made my way to my apartment. I unlocked the door to the low hum of some late night talk show coming from the living room and tossed my keys into the silver jellybean shaped dish on the black slate-topped console table I'd placed in the foyer beneath a beveled, rectangular mirror.

I trudged further into the apartment, following the sound of the television as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with me. I entered the brightly hued living room with an eclectic melange of furniture and decorative items to see my Dad and Grandma Mazur slightly nodding off.

"Hey guys," I whispered, announcing my presence as I clicked off the television and plopped down on the cerulean suede sofa with Grandma Mazur. "How'd it go tonight?"

"Oh, it was great. Thanks for asking us to do this, Pumpkin," my Dad replied, rubbing his calvous dome and laboriously extricating his slightly pudgy physique from the gray-blue velvet fauteuil with matching pouf.

"Dad, I'm the one who should be thanking you! I really appreciate both of your help."

"Nonsense, baby girl. We're happy to help and even happier to have an excuse to get out of the house," Grandma Mazur piped in while readjusting her pink velour tracksuit that clashed spectacularly with her raspberry helmet of ringlets she maintained via weekly appointment at Clip-n-Curl, a mainstay for the older generation of Burg women and gossip hub, in the hopes of luring a fellow senior citizen by outwardly manifesting her inner spiciness. As a plan, it wasn't half bad. She'd seen more action in the past two years than I had, though she was irked with the brevity of those encounters, although I imagine that couldn't be helped, even if she went the cougar route.

"Oh yeah, is Mom okay with this?" I asked with a grimace, hoping the favor they did me wouldn't lead to another litany of 'why me's' from my mother.

"I'm sure she hasn't noticed our absence, when we left she was busy on the phone holding court with other Burg busybodies," Grandma Mazur snickered.

My Dad huffed out a sigh before adding his opinion as I walked them towards the front door, "don't you worry about your Mom, she'll come around. You know how she is."

"She's a snooty patootie is what she is, Frank. It's been well over a year and it's her loss, she's the one who's missing out!" Grandma Mazur whisper-shouted.

I gave my Dad a quick hug and kiss and murmured a quick thank you to Grandma Mazur for having my back at the Tastry Pastry with Angela and Bella Morelli. With one last embrace, they left my apartment and headed home with promises to visit soon.

I couldn't wait to get changed into some comfy pjs and snuggle into bed, but I had a stop to make first. I ambled past the living room into the plush, carpeted hallway and silently entered the first bedroom on the right.

I felt an instantaneous wave of serenity wash over me replacing the fatigue of my grueling 15-hour day with a blanket of bliss. I tiptoed further into the menagerie motif room, inhaled the intoxicating combo of powder-freshness and possibilities and smiled at what made up the best parts of my day, every day. In two adjacent mahogany cribs decorated with daffodil and mint bedding, respectively, dozed Serafina Rosa Plum and Theodore Dante Plum, the lights of my life, my nine-and-a-half month-old wonders.

A/N: Towards the end of the flashback illustrating how Stephanie met Camilla, I used a line from Casablanca. Additionally, the wonderfully alliterative phrase 'Chambersburg chunk' and the a description of Connie's hair were, I believe, featured in Janet Evanovich's novels (although I can't recall which ones).

Lingerie fashion week is an actual event that started in 2013 (www dot lingeriefw dot com) which I totally exploited for the purposes of the story. It doesn't play in a huge way, just as a way to showcase Stephanie's accomplishments and growth in her chosen career.

Also, I know it's sort of a cop-out, giving Steph one of each (a son and a daughter), but I really wanted to do twins and it just felt right and fun for her to grow from and with. So, sorry if it seems awkwardly convenient or unbelievable, but it's just what's happening!

I really hope you enjoyed this and I plan to have more ready soon! (And wow, I can't believe it's been over a year since I officially started posting to this fandom. It feels like just a few weeks ago…)