"What does fee-ooding mean?" the little girl asked, sounding out the unfamiliar word as she tilted her head curiously toward Jon.

'Taya grinned, patting her friend on the shoulder. "You've got this, I'll tidy up."

Jon chuckled. "Gee, thanks," he told her sarcastically, crossing his legs as he sat down on the floor to make himself a little more comfortable. They both had children at home and were used to answering questions, but somehow, this little girl reminded him a little of his own Emily, only older. "Are you sure you don't want a cookie?" he asked, tentatively.

The girl grimaced. "They're oaty-raisin cookies," she intimated. "I don't like them." As Jon sat down, so did she, crossing her legs comfortably to lean back on her hands. "M'Bea," she introduced herself almost diffidently. "So what does fee-ooding mean?"

"That's because Ms. De Luca wants you to have a healthy snack," Jon explained, leaning a little closer. "But I don't like them either," he whispered conspiratorially, with a sly wink. Nothing could substitute for good old-fashioned chocolate chip, at least in his opinion. "I'm Jon," he said, exchanging introductions and even offering a hand and offering a friendly smile. "Feuding means ....hmm, it's sort of like when people get angry about something and never get over it."

"But that's just like a argument that never gets solved," Bea pointed out. "You said that the families had been doing it, and if it was just a argument, they would of made up, wouldn't they?"

"Not necessarily. Some people get angry at other people and never make up. That's called holding a grudge, but feuds can get violent. Feuds happen when people hate each other so much that they don't want anything to do with the people they hate," Jon tried to explain.

Bea seemed to consider this for a long moment. "So it's a excuse for being horrible to people just because they look like something or have the same name as someone?" she asked, curious to know just what the word meant.

"Something like that, yes. In the play, the Capulets and the Montagues hated each other, or at least, their fathers hated each other, but their children didn't seem to know why. It was just what they were taught to do," he explained further, as patiently as he could.

"So it was the adults' fault that everything went wrong in the end," Bea said. For a ten-year-old, she seemed inordinately interested in how all the links and connections within the background of the play worked to make the play itself seamless.

"I would say so, yes," Jon said without hesitation. "If they hadn't been taught to hate each other, the story might have had a different ending, don't you think?" he asked, wondering what she thought.

She shook her head. "If they hadn't hated each other, there wouldn't have been a story to tell," she pointed out. "I read it, sort of. Miss Beni helped me. But I didn't really understand it before you and Ms. De Luca did it today."

"Yes, exactly. Don't you think there's a lesson to be learned from the story?" he asked further. While all the other children were more interested in cookies, this one girl seemed more interested in the story. He wondered why.

"Well, it's like you said." She shrugged as she spoke. "Being horrible and holding grudges is a bad thing. Also like Miss Mataya said, people should of talked to each other more."

"Right! And those are lessons people could still learn today," he said, though he didn't elaborate on that. Even Rhy'Din had its problems. "Have you ever been to the theater?" he asked, his turn to ask questions.

She shook her head, disappointment sharp in her surprisingly direct gaze. "Not enough people want to go, so it's too 'spensive," she explained sadly. "But you came here, that's a good thing!"

"Hmm," Jon mused quietly. He had a feeling if Mataya knew that, she'd make sure the kids who were interested were given the opportunity to attend a show, even if they couldn't afford it. And even if she didn't, Jon had enough money to make it a reality. "Do you think if you had the chance, you'd like to go?" he asked her.

Bea's eyes lit up hopefully as she nodded. "Yes, I would!" she enthused. "I like seeing it all real and stuff, and, and we don't go out much 'less it's cheap 'cos of being orphans and stuff."

Jon frowned at the reminder that she was an orphan, along with the other children who were enjoying their cookies nearby. Rhy'Din really had too many orphans. Hadn't he just recently said something to Vicki about setting a good example for the rest of Rhy'Din by considering adoption, but he wasn't even sure where to begin. He drew himself out of his thoughts, an idea forming in his head. If he couldn't bring the theater to the orphans, maybe he could bring the orphans to the theater. "What would you think about a field trip to the theater for you and your friends?" he asked her.

Bea stared at him for a moment. "You're gonna do a theater in a field?" she asked, confusion washing across her round face. "And we can come and see it?" At least she had the visit part right, but he might have to explain what a field trip was. For this orphanage, it seemed, money was tight, despite the obvious evidence that they did everything they could to ensure the children were warm and well-fed.

They might find themselves receiving a large donation from an anonymous donor sometime in the near future, but for now, Jon was focusing his attention on exposing the kids to the theater. He chuckled a little at her question.

"No, silly," he said, starting to feel a little more comfortable with the girl. She was just a little girl, after all, just like the kids back at Maple Grove. The only difference was that they had families and she didn't, but with his help, maybe that would change. "We won't be going into a field. I don't know why they call it that."

"Miss Beni says that lots of the plays at your theater are for older people," Bea intimated. "She said I would get bored or I wouldn't understand, or they wouldn't let me in 'cos of being little."

"Some of them are, but we try to choose plays the whole family can enjoy, and there are lots of plays for kids. We're doing Beauty and the Beast in a few months, and the ballet company is doing Peter Pan," he told her, for example. He didn't think Miss Beni could object to either of those.

"Really?" Again, she lit up, hope tempered with an expectation of disappointment when it turned out to be too expensive to go. "Like in the movie, that Beauty and the Beast?"

"Yes, that Beauty and the Beast," Jon replied. He wasn't too involved with the musical side of the theater and suddenly had an idea. "I have a little girl named Emily, who I'm planning on taking to see it. How would you like to come with us?" he asked. Though he hadn't asked Emily - or Vicki, for that matter - if it was okay, he had a feeling Emily wouldn't mind another little girl's company for the day.

If anyone could be the definition of the word "gobsmacked", it was Bea in that moment. Mouth open, eyes wide, shocked and hopeful and amazed all at once, it took a moment for her to find her voice. "Me?" she asked. "You-you would let me come to the theater with your family?"

"Sure, why not?" Jon countered with a gentle kind of smile, warm and friendly - the kind of smile that made you feel he really cared about you. "Emily is younger than you, but I think you'd like her. Would you like to meet her sometime?"

Very slowly, a shy but delighted smile spread across the little face in front of him. Bea's head waggled as she nodded. "Yes, please," she said, her manners as perfect as a child's could be. "But only if she doesn't mind. You're her daddy."

"I'm not sure what I'm feeling," Jon said, with a thoughtful frown. Maybe Mataya was right; maybe he was over-thinking things, but he didn't want to get anyone's hopes up - including his own - for nothing.

"Then it sounds like you need to talk to your wife, and not get your hopes up just yet," Mataya told him, practically speaking his own thoughts aloud. "We'll be back here next week - maybe Vicki could come along?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Jon agreed. "'Tay, what happens if I want a big family and Vicki doesn't?" he asked, though how did one define a big family' They already had four children. How many were too many"

"You've had this conversation with her," his friend reminded him. "You both agreed that you wanted a big family. It's just the fact that Vicki doesn't like being pregnant that put a stop on that. And besides, having another pair of little hands around won't be a bad thing."

"Yes, but if we adopt her, we'd adopt her to be our daughter, not a servant, 'Tay," Jon pointed out, though he understood what she meant. "I suppose I should talk to Liv and Fliss," he mused aloud, repeating advice she'd already given him. And maybe Johnny, to get the perspective of being the father of an adopted child. Or even Dom, Des, or Ed, who had all adopted children who weren't their own from birth.

"That's not what I'm saying," she told him. "You don't adopt a child because they'll be convenient. But you have four children under ten, and that is exhausting for anyone. You shouldn't be thinking about adopting anyone under ten. And sharing responsibility for the other children will be a way to make her feel important, like she has a purpose and is a vital part of your family."

"Fliss was a teenager when she was adopted, but she was their first," Jon pointed out. He frowned as he looked over at the group of children again. Why had this one child touched his heart, more than the others" Was it only because she had taken the time to talk to him, or was it something more"

"Because she needed them," Mataya reminded him. "They could give her something no one else could. And she's given them back so much more than they ever expected from her."

"Do you think we could do that?" he asked curiously, more a question for himself than for her. Could they give another child - one not of their own birth - the same love and affection they gave their own children"

"Jonny ....you already do," 'Taya said gently. "Every child that isn't yours but feels safe and home when they're around you ....that's because of you and Vicki and the way that you love them. Family isn't blood; it's a bond that goes much deeper than genetics."

"I guess I'm over-thinking it, huh?" Jon asked, with a self-deprecating smile. "I just don't want to screw this up," he confessed with a sigh. It was a very "Jon Granger" thing to say; even though he had accomplished so much these last few years, there would always be a little bit of the old self-doubts about him.

"Yeah, well, we all screw up," his best friend told him, nudging her shoulder against his arm teasingly. "The whole point is dealing with your screw ups, not avoiding ever making them."

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted, with another self-conscious smile. "We're only human, after all. At least, I am!" he said, chuckling lightly. "What would you think about a field trip to the theater?" he asked, changing the subject a little. He had sort of promised it already, but Mataya was the final word where that was concerned.

She tilted her head curiously. "What did you have in mind" Cyrano isn't exactly suitable for anyone under about fifteen."

"Beauty and the Beast?" he suggested, uncertainly. "I think they'd like that." At least, the girls would; he wasn't so sure about the boys. Bea had certainly expressed an interest, anyway.

"It's in a couple of months, Jon," she pointed out. "Do you really want to wait that long" We could get them in for an afternoon on a day with no matinee, let them have fun with props and make up, have a real tour of the place."

"That sounds like fun. Do you think they'll like that?" he asked, uncertainly. Though it was his idea to give the kids a tour of the theater, the decision was ultimately up to Mataya.

She thought it over for a moment or two. "We can ask the make up and costume folks to come in for an hour or so, show them how it's all done," she mused. "When I was a kid, I would have loved it."

"That sounds like a plan," he admitted. "Some of them might be interested in STARS, too. Maybe we could use some of our sponsorship money to provide scholarships so they can attend programs and shows," he suggested, though it was just as easy for them to let the kids go for free.

"We do have an outreach program, taking the shows around to do in-house performances," she said thoughtfully. "No, you're right. We should set up a fund that schools and orphanages can apply for to pay the cost of trips to the theater."

"I think that's a good idea," he agreed. He wasn't sure why it hadn't come up before, but he and Mataya had only just started visiting the local orphanages in order to introduce the kids to the theater.

"I'll talk to Charles and Alex about it," she promised him. "It's not like we're hurting for money, thanks to pretty much all of the city." She snorted with laughter; Mataya was still just a little incredulous when she considered the generosity of her adopted home.

"No, and it would be money that's put to good use," he said. Better late than never, anyway. "We should really sit down and think of other things we might want to do with the money," he suggested further. Like she said, they already had an outreach program and STARS, but how else could they promote the theater while doing something good for the community"

"Well, let's set up a meeting for it with the department heads and the managers," Mataya said, lifting the bag of props onto her shoulder. "We should get going before we outstay our welcome and make like difficult for the staff here."

"Sounds good," he said, reaching for the bag of props. He wasn't going to let her lug it around when he was perfectly capable of doing so himself. He glanced over at the group of kids again, who had finished with their milk and cookies and had mostly dispersed.

Bea was sitting at the table still, her unfinished cookie on the plate in front of her as she waited patiently for her friends to finish. The little girl looked over at the adults, offering up a wide smile and a wave as she noticed them ready to leave.

He was tempted to go over and talk to her further or even offer a hug, but he thought it was probably wiser to just smile and wave, rather than make too deep an impression just yet. Instead, he did just that, lifting his hand to wave back and offering a friendly smile. It was only once they had left that his smile disappeared, realizing suddenly that he hated the thought of leaving her behind.

And, of course, Mataya noticed that straightaway. "Bingo," she informed him. "Ding, ding, we have a winner." She pulled open the door of her car, leaning against it as she grinned at her friend. "Seriously, talk to Vicki. See if you can convince her to come next week."

"What?" he asked, giving her his best innocent look. He was an actor, after all, even if he had a hard time pretending in his real life. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, knowing she knew him better than that. He opened the back door to deposit the bag of props before moving to the front door.