Le d’Angers family rendezvoused with Oliva Spencer-Kim-Lewis and went to Magnolia Park after they left the library, looking for an old friend.
Dimenche II found himself playing chess with Kiana Fry of Windenburg, one of the Sims les d’Angers had aged up in their first attempt at manual Story Progression for their World.
“It really is a tribute to you, Madame Fry,” Dim explained. “Your son, Santiago, will come to high school with my beloved sister and I, and will have an honored place in my court when I succeed my father as Duc de Willow Brook.”
“What happens when Santiago becomes a Young Adult?” Kiana asked. “Are you just going to delete Conner and I after your father’s next birthday party?”
“Absolutely not!” Dim swore. “Father has made arrangements for Elder Townies to be merged into an off-World household when the time comes.”
“To be warehoused ‘til we die of old age?” she said. “Gee, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Graciously, I should think,” Dim said. “You won’t simply be warehoused; you’ll have privileges not even I enjoy. There are no restrictions on the use of Youth Potion there, for inst—“
“There you are, Dim!”
Dim turned and saw Luna Villareal approaching the chess table, still a Teen, her family having been bypassed in the aging-up process.
“Mademoiselle, you’re in time to learn a valuable lesson in chess from Madame Fry,” he said. “Unless, that is, you and Wolfgang need to get going. There’s no barista in all of Willow Brook, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, WooHoo Wolfgang Munch,” Luna said. “You were right about him, Dim. He’s a Dastardly plumhole.”
“How did you come to this realization?” Dim asked.
“He stood me up!” Luna said. “I waited at the café for hours and, when I looked at my Relationship Panel, our Romance Meter was gone! He totally friend-zoned me!”
“So it was a date!” Dim declared.
“What if it was?”
“Just … just that Wolfgang is as foolish as he is Mean, to have passed up a date with you, Luna,” Dim said. “Do you think it would help if I talked to him?”
“Oh, that’s sweet, Dim, but I don’t know …” Luna said. “Maybe it would help if you talked to me?”
“I would be glad to help any way I can,” Dim said.
Meanwhile, at a nearby picnic table, Olivia Spencer-Kim-Lewis had just finished helping Annette d’Angers finish her homework when Dimenche walked up.
“Still no sign of Annette Thayer,” he announced gloomily. “I guess we should find Dim and Liv and head home; tomorrow’s a school day.”
Dimenche and Olivia walked toward the chess table where Dim had been playing moments before.
“With the Willwright as my witness, he was here just — ” Dimenche started to say. “Ah! Look yonder! My son is star-gazing with a most attractive young heiress.”
“She’s a girl, for Wright’s sake,” Olivia said. “Forget the heiress business, Dimench. She’s just a girl, and you just broke her heart when you aged up her would-be boyfriend without her.”
“I had no idea they had autonomously forged a romantic connection,” Dimenche said.
“Well, you could have waited for me before you started Story Progression,” Olivia said. “I have pages of notes on all the unplayed households.”
“I must accept the blame,” Dimenche said. “Katelynn wanted to wait, but I did not want to disturb you in this … this time of mourning.”
Well, you did disturb me,” Olivia said, “but you were right. We were overdue for story progression, and it’s really none of my business how you Manage World.”
“Of course it’s your business,” Dimenche said. “You’re our Creator!”
“No, Dimenche. I just set the Legacy Challenge Rules of Succession for this Saved Game and created you,” Olivia said. “I didn’t even create you; Daddy just took a copy of our Player’s SimSelf and edited it to make you.”
“Edited it?” Dimenche asked. “How?”
“Changed your Everyday t-shirt and edited all your Traits to fit our storyline.”
“So I may bear some vague physical resemblance to your Player, but my personality is nothing like his?” Dimenche asked.
“Your personality is exactly like his,” Olivia said. “Well, Self-Assured is a bit of a stretch, but it was either that or Mean, and I didn’t want to start out playing a Mean Sim.”
“Edited all the Traits?” Dimenche said. “Do you remember what Traits your Player assigned to his SimSelf?”
“Um … Good. Wise. Talks to Animals. It was an … idealized Simself-image.” Olivia said. “And then there’s a Party Animal version of him back in my home World, and I think we still have a copy of the Doctor Doolittle version tucked in the Local Gallery, but why are we even talking about him?”
“Oh, you were saying how you’re not really my Creator,” Dimenche said, “but what disturbed you about my selections?”
“Nothing,” Olivia said, pondering the board and realizing Dimenche could have her King in check in approximately five moves. “Only, I now have nine more Elders to squeeze into the Sim Life Advancement Center. It’s already at maximum occupancy and these Elders aren’t exactly dropping like flies …
Maybe … I dunno … Shannon SimsFan suggested I let the Elders run their own – Oh! Look! It’s Annette Thayer!”
Dimenche whipped around.
“Where?” he asked eagerly. “Where?”
“Oh! Sorry! Just another pale brunette in a paint-spattered muscle shirt,” Olivia said, making a flurry of small adjustments on the board. “Mate in … four … no … Three.”
When they returned to Oakenstead Manor that night, Dimenche was still pondering Olivia’s prank.
“Olivia; this isn’t working,” he said. “We’ve been sending someone to the park nightly for two weeks, and Annette hasn’t shown up. I began to think: ‘Perhaps she’s moved to a different bench! However will we find her?’
“But then I misremembered that old Islamic proverb: If Mohamed won’t come to the mountain –“ Dimenche started to say.
“That is not an Islamic proverb,” Olivia said.
“But you see where I’m going.”
“Then the mountain must … um … must go to … the World Management interface and merge Mohamed into the mountain’s household!” Olivia guessed.
“Exactly!” Dimenche said.
“Wait! Are we even allowed to say ‘Mohamed’?”
“Yes; we just can’t make a SimSelf for him,” Olivia said.
“Why would we?” Dimenche asked. “I thought we were talking about appointing Annette Thayer as our steward?”
“WE are talking about appointing Annette Thayer as your steward!” Olivia said.
“Then why were you making a SimSelf for … wait,” Dimenche asked. “What were we talking about again?”
“Never mind, Dimenche,” Olivia said. “I’ve got this.”