I'm sorry this took longer to post than I was expecting given how short it is. RL intruded on me in less than pleasant ways. Over the past few months, my mother's health declined rapidly, and she passed away a little over a week ago. She had a chronic illness, so it is a blessing that she is no longer in pain any more, but it has been hard. And to make things more complicated all around, my boyfriend's father passed away about a week before my mother did, so we had one parent's funeral on one Tuesday and another parent's funeral the following Tuesday. Tonight is the first time I have had time to and been able to write in a month. It feels good, and I hope you enjoy the ending to this story. There will be another, but I am not sure when. – Leya

Thanks to max2013, BMSH, EvergreenDreamweaver, Drumboy100, Caranath, Candylou, Jilsen, Xenitha, sm2003495, Barb, Paulina Ann, neoxer, and all who read and enjoyed. Last chapter of this one.

Chapter 16

Chet sat frozen, his burger in one hand hovering in the air, forgotten. "I… Wow…" He drew in a long breath, finally placing the food back down on his plate. "Okay... I can see why you wouldn't want to work with him. Makes complete and total sense."

Joe snorted, threw a fry in his mouth, and followed it with a swig from his beer. "You think?" He waved a hand at their friend. "Sorry. I just can't even hear his name without getting mad all over again."

"It's okay. I get it," Chet said. He picked up his burger again, took a bite and swallowed. "So, what happened? Did Michaels get any jail time? And what about, you know, him?"

"Michaels got a year in jail for the felony charge." Frank placed his silverware on the edge of his plate. "They couldn't prove the assault charges, though. Not enough evidence."

"Yeah..." Joe snorted again.

Chet looked puzzled. "But what about von Ormond?" He glanced at Joe. "Sorry. But he admitted to drugging you."

"No," Frank said. "He admitted to thinking the soda had been tampered with." He picked up his silverware again and cut another slice of chicken. "It couldn't be proven that he was the one who did the tampering. Or that his boss instructed him to."

"Although we completely know he was, and that he did," Joe said, grabbing the beer bottle again.

"You know." Frank turned to Chet. "This," he waved the hand holding his fork at his brother," doesn't look calm to me. How about you?"

"Nope," Chet said. "Not getting in the middle of this." He picked a fry up and dabbed it in ketchup. "So, why didn't he get any jail time?"

Joe let out a breath. "He cut a deal. Witness for the prosecution." The fingers of his left hand started drumming on the tabletop. "Not my choice."

Chet nodded. "So, is the gallery still in business?"

"Oh, yes," Frank said. "Because of the financial improprieties, Mrs. Michaels got the bulk of the assets in the divorce, including the business assets. She closed for a bit to reorganize and reopened under a new name."

Chet raised his eyebrows. "Which is?"

Frank smiled. "Chrysalis."

"Oh, that's nice," Chet said. "Appropriate. What happened to Liz? She didn't lose her job, did she?"

Joe snorted again. "No. Mrs. Michaels made her the gallery manager. It turns out she was the one making most of the decisions anyway."

"The first show at the gallery was Mrs. O'Brien's," Frank said. "With all the publicity surrounding the initial theft, she sold out before the show closed." He took a bite of his salad, chewed, and swallowed. "She never got any of the other sculptures back, but as she said, most of her supplies were found objects, so she didn't lose too much money on them. Mostly it was her time." He looked at his brother, his dark eyes dancing. "I'd say we suffered the greater loss there."

Joe rolled his eyes.

"Okay," Chet looked from one brother to the other, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Either I missed something, or there's something here you aren't telling me. I'm guessing the latter."

Frank's lips quirked into a half-smile. "You haven't asked about Calvin."

Chet shrugged. "I just assumed he got a better offer. You guys did go through a lot of office managers there for a while." He flashed them both a grin. "At least until I took over the job."

"Oh, he got a better offer all right," Joe said. "Once Liz became the gallery manager, she offered him the office position. With a bigger salary."

"As well as some other perks," Frank murmured into his whiskey.

"Other… perks?" Chet took another bite of his burger and waved his hand in a 'tell-me-more' gesture.

Joe sighed. "They got married."

"Liz and Calvin?" Chet nearly choked. "What? When?!"

"Couple of months ago." Joe downed a gulp of beer. "We went to the wedding. Carmine did, too."

"It was at the gallery," Frank said. "They felt it was symbolic."

Joe shook his head and sighed again. "It was a loss..."

Frank raised an eyebrow at him. "Says the man with Kara to go home to..."

"What? No!" Joe's cheeks flushed. "I meant Calvin..."

Chet gave him a long look, then turned to Frank, a lopsided grin on his face. "Do you think he realizes that's not better? I mean, I'm sitting right here..."

Joe flushed deeper and pushed the rest of his beer away. "You know. I think I'm done with this." He looked at the clock on the wall. "And I think I'm going to go home to my lovely girlfriend before I say anything else that gets me into trouble." He pulled some bills from his wallet. "I'm guessing this isn't a business lunch, so this should cover me."

Frank flicked a glance at the money on the table and nodded. "You might want to consider a nice long walk before hitting the subway."

"Oh, I will," Joe said. "The last thing I need is to go home and run my mouth off." He stood, put his wallet back in his pocket, and raked a hand through his hair. "See you both tomorrow."

"Oh, hold on a second," Chet snapped his fingers. "With all the excitement, I forgot." He wiped his hands on his napkin. "You had a call this morning while you were on the phone with the Perkins Gallery people. Wow, say that five times fast..." He shook his head. "Anyway, he didn't want your voicemail and didn't want to say what it was about."

"That sounds mysterious. Did you get a name?"

Chet nodded. "Tom Rickman, I think he said."

"Ryckman," Joe said automatically. "Tommy Ryckman. Old New York family. I went to college with him."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't he the one that moved off your floor and into one of the party fraternities?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah, although I have no idea why you remember that. We weren't close. I knew him to say hello to, but that's about it." He turned to Chet. "And he didn't say what he wanted?"

"Not a word," Chet said. "He just gave his name and asked if you would be in over the next few days." He shrugged. "I told him as far as I knew you would be, but if he really wanted to see you, he should make an appointment."

"Well, we'll see if he shows." Joe waved as he turned. "See you both tomorrow," he said.

Frank pushed a bit more of his salad around on the plate before giving up and laying his silverware down. "I think I'm done," he said. "I'm going to head out, too."

Chet wiped his hands again and put the napkin down on the table. "I think I'll go surprise Marisol. If she's not booked this afternoon, maybe I'll take her to Central Park for a walk." As he rose, he said, "What do you think this Ryckman guy wants?"

"It's probably nothing. He's probably in town for a few days and wants to catch up with Joe." He pushed his chair in. "I guess we'll find out."