Note: This takes place around the same time as the chapter from There Goes the Neighborhood when Lizzy is 16 and learning to drive. So, she is older in this, but unlike that chapter this one is more from Hogan's POV. (I almost typed POW there…)

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Hogan was not a fan of desk work, but for the sake of his job, he was willing to sit down and just grin and bear it.

Or scowl and bear it, as he was doing currently. He had a sudden wave of sympathy for Klink, who had always seemed to be monocle-deep in some form of paperwork, and the messy pile he was currently entangled in gave him a sudden understanding for the weariness of the former prison camp Kommandant.

He let out a big sigh and picked up one of the thick folders in front of him, which was labelled Huntingburg Park Vandalism. Ugh, he remembered that. Someone had painted a smiley face on a bench in said park, and the meddling Huntingburg Improvement Society had had a proverbial fit. He still couldn't fathom how one little event could generate so much paperwork, but he had no desire to go against the six crusading middle aged women that headed the improvement society.

Hogan's thoughts of some kind of accident suddenly befalling their president, Mrs. Hastings, was interrupted by a crash outside his office door, followed by a knock.

"Come in," he huffed, already knowing who was on the other side by the enthusiasm behind the knock.

Hogan's intuition proved correct; through the door came the tall, lanky form of Lt. Ivy, cleared Nazi criminal, school crossing guard, neighborhood watch member, accidental quilting club constituent and, currently, his patrol partner for the day.

"Are you ready to head out, sir?" asked Ivy, standing in front of Hogan's messy desk expectantly.

"Yeah, I'm coming," replied Hogan, getting up and putting his cap on after locating it in the torrent of paper on his desk.

"Where are we patrolling today, sir?" asked Ivy, as they made their way out of Hogan's office.

"Regular rounds, I think," he replied, waving to Kinch as they walked out. His deputy was currently in charge of the station for the day, and Hogan couldn't be more glad that he wasn't the one stuck answering the telephone. Last time he had that duty, he had gotten a phone call from someone who called the police station because they wanted him to arrest their husband for insulting their cooking.

Once the two men were in the vehicle and driving, Ivy did what he normally did when he was on patrol with Hogan: make awkward conversation.

"So...sir...how was your day?" the young man asked.

"Ugh. Too much paperwork," said Hogan, stopping at a crosswalk to let a lady with shopping bags cross the street.

"Oh. That's too bad. What are you doing later?"

"Eating and then sleeping, hopefully. Lizzy's in Cleveland with Newkirk for another one of her violin concerts."

"Aren't you going to go watch her?"

"I was going to, but I'm on duty all day."

"Oh. How is...everyone?"

"They're fine," said Hogan, wishing that his young partner found silence peaceful instead of awkward.

"Good. That's good. I mean, I see Officer Newkirk a lot, so I know he's good, but I never see Lizzy so it's good to hear she's doing well. Not that I think she wouldn't be doing well, but it's nice to know that she is...doing well, I mean," said Ivy.

"You know, I never really met Lizzy. I saw her once or twice when she was a kid, but it's kinda funny that our paths never crossed. Not funny, like, laughing funny, but funny in a weird coincidence sort of way."

"Mm-hmm," said Hogan, hoping that the young man would just leave him be for once.

He got his wish for a few minutes, until he knew that Ivy was going to explode if he didn't break the silence with something.

"So, sir, are you going to the Huntingburg Improvement Society's dance next weekend? I heard Mrs. Hastings talking about it the other day."

"Nope," was the only answer Hogan gave. He knew Ivy would have liked for him to elaborate, but he couldn't think of a real reason why he didn't want to go other than at this point he might strangle Mrs. Hastings on sight, especially after she had called his house at midnight one night to inform him that she had seen a "suspicious car driving slowly past her house," which had turned out to have been him coming home late from work.

Hogan felt bad that his grumpy mood and clipped tone had effectively shut his partner up, but he was determined to enjoy the peace and quiet for a few minutes before speaking.

"Are you going?" he asked, parking the car in a spot along the road.

"No, sir. I can't dance. Well, I can, but I can only waltz, and I don't think they're gonna be doing that there."

"You have other plans, then?"

"Well, sir, I was hoping to be able to finish ironing my dress uniform," was the reply.

"Well...just...don't have too much fun."

x

x

x

A few nights later, at the end of a long and tiresome workday, Hogan was more than happy to come home, plunk down at the table, and just be able to drink his coffee and read his newspaper in peace.

Lizzy had gotten home from school a little while ago and was upstairs doing homework. Newkirk was at work, so Hogan had the rare privilege of being alone.

Hogan was halfway through a fascinating article about how to remove peanut butter stains from clothing when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Sighing, he got up and opened the door, only to find an unfamiliar face there.

"Can I help you?" he asked the young man at the door.

"Hello, sir. Is Lizzy here?"

"That depends. Who are you?"

"Fred Hastings," said the young man, not put off by Hogan's standoffish attitude.

"Oh. Your mother the one who's President of the Huntingburg Improvement Society?"

"Yes, sir, that's her," replied Fred.

"Right. What was it you wanted again?"

"Is Lizzy here? I want to ask her something," said the young man.

"...I'll go see if she's busy," said Hogan, not really liking how confident Fred Hastings was.

He walked up the stairs to his daughter's room, and knocked softly on the door.

"Come in!" came the reply.

He opened it to find her laying on her stomach on her bed, books and papers and Schultzie spread out all around her.

"Hi, dad," she said, smiling up at him.

He could never help smiling back. "Hi, Liz. Someone's at the door for you."

"Who?"

"Some boy named Fred Hastings."

"Ugh, tell him I'm not here," said Lizzy, turning back to her textbook.

"I think he knows you're home, Lizzy."

"Well, can't you tell him I'm busy?" asked Lizzy, sitting up.

"Sure, but what's wrong with the kid?"

"Fred's a creep. I don't like him. He probably wants me to go with him to that stupid dance his mother is putting on, anyway," she replied, giving Schultzie a scratch under his chin. The ancient cat let out a rusty purr.

"Alright, sweetie, I'll tell him you're busy," said Hogan leaving the room. He didn't know why, but he was really glad that Lizzy didn't have the same interest in Fred Hastings as he had in her. Come to think of it, Lizzy never really showed any interest in any of the hopeful young men that he occasionally saw around her.

He would have given the idea more thought, but it slipped his mind as he went back downstairs.

x

x

x

The next time Hogan heard the name of that young man was only a day later. He had taken some work home with him and was shuffling through it in the living room with the radio playing softly in the background when the door opened and two young girls came in.

Lizzy shouted a hello to her father in the living room, and she and Ida began to unpack their school things on the kitchen table.

It was peaceful listening to them chatter over their math homework, and he smiled as he went back to his work. It was a few minutes later, after they had finished working on something, that their conversation caught his attention.

"...can't believe Fred Hastings asked you to the dance, and you said no…"

"I don't know, something about him creeps me out."

"But he's so dreamy! Everyone's so jealous of you…"

"That doesn't change the fact that I don't like him," he heard Lizzy say firmly.

She got that from him.

"...you're still coming to the dance, right?"

"I'd rather stay home and practice my violin. I'm working on a new Vivaldi piece…."

"Oh, Liz. I was going to go with Tommy...I was hoping we could double-date…"

"No."

"Oh, please...can't you find someone? My mother won't let me go unless someone else is with us…"

"Ida…"

Despite his ire for the Huntingburg Improvement Society and its leader, Hogan didn't think it would be a terrible idea for Lizzy to get out and do something with kids her own age. She had a grown-up solemness to her sometimes that made her seem older than her sixteen years, and he felt bad that Ida's adolescent life didn't have an equally frivolous friend to share it with.

It seemed like every time he heard the two friends talking about something, Lizzy was giving her friend a reason she didn't want to see a movie, rollerskate, or go dancing.

He knew it really it wasn't his place, but he couldn't help but think that Lizzy should do something with Ida that the other girl wanted to do. And it wasn't like the Huntingburg Fire Department where the dance was going to be held was the local den of iniquity.

All he had to do was find someone Lizzy could take with her that he trusted. Suddenly, someone came to mind.

Someone who had thought he would be spending the night ironing his pants.

xxxx