Alex returned to the ICU waiting room.  She paused as she caught the tail end of a story about Daniel.

“So, there Daniel was facing down the school bully, who was four inches taller and twenty pounds heavier than him,” Bonnie said, her eyes sparkling.

“What did he do?” Dylan asked in rapt attention.

“He ran.  Of course, the bully took off after him, which is what Daniel wanted.  Daniel led him on a merry chase through the neighborhood until he finally came to this one house, where he climbed the fence and waited.  The bully soon came over the fence after him.  He saw Daniel just standing there in the middle of the yard.  It was as he stepped toward him that he heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“The growling.  He turned around and found himself face to face with a huge rottweiler.  Well, this dog was well-known in the neighborhood to hate everyone--except Daniel.  As it turned out, the bully was terrified of dogs, something Daniel had known.  As the kid stood there, petrified, Daniel told him that if he didn’t stop bullying the other children, Daniel would bring Grim Reaper--that was the dog’s name--to school one day.  That was the last time that bully ever bothered another kid in school.”

Dylan laughed.  “Was the dog’s name really Grim Reaper?”

“Yes, it was.  Its owner had a rather strange sense of humor.”

Alex felt a warm tenderness fill her at the thought of the young Daniel Cooper defending the other children at school.  She could picture this handsome young boy with curly hair and deep brown eyes defiantly facing the school bully.  The image made her smile.

Both Dylan and Bonnie saw her.  The boy excitedly went to her.  “Mrs. Cooper has been telling me all about Daniel when he was a kid.  You should hear about some of the funny stuff he did.”

“I can imagine.”  Alex walked with him back over to the seats.  “Thank you so much for keeping him company, Mrs. Cooper.”

“You are very welcome, Alex.  And, please, call me Bonnie.  Did you get your call made?”

“Yes.”  Alex looked down at her son.  “Dylan, somebody from Hope is going to come over to take you home.  I need to stay here for another day or so.”

The boy’s happiness disappeared.  “Why can’t I stay too?”

“Dylan, honey, I can’t keep leaving you in the waiting room alone.”

“But I want to be here where you are and where Daniel is.”

Alex pulled her son into a hug.  “I want that too, Dylan, but I think it’s best if you go home.  I’m going to talk to somebody again and try to get them to let you see Daniel, at least for a little while.  If they say yes, I’ll have somebody bring you back here.”

Bonnie looked at mother and son, seeing a reflection of herself and Daniel in them.  A thought suddenly came to her.

“Alex?  Could you wait a while before sending Dylan back to the island?  Just a couple two or three hours?”

“Yeah, I guess.  Why?”

“I’ll tell you after it’s been done.”

“Um . . . okay.”  The redhead looked at Daniel’s mother curiously, wondering what the woman was planning.

Bonnie stood.  “I need to get back to Daniel and Cliff.  Are you coming too?”

Alex shook her head.  “Not yet.  I need to wait for the person who’s coming for Dylan.”

“All right.  We’ll see you in a while then.”  Bonnie walked down the hall and back through the doors to the ICU.

As she entered Daniel’s room, she was surprised to see Cliff in the chair beside the bed, his hand holding tightly onto his son’s.  But her surprise was nothing compared to the shock she got when he looked up at her, and she realized that he had been crying.  In the thirty-seven years she’d known him, Bonnie had never seen her husband cry, not even when his father died.

Cliff quickly got up and turned away toward the window, hastily wiping the wetness from his face.  “Did you see Alex’s son?” he asked in a falsely casual tone.

“Yes, I did.  He’s a wonderful boy.  He reminds me of Daniel at that age.”  Bonnie stepped forward, her determination firming.  “Cliff, in the thirty-five years we’ve been married, I’ve never asked you for anything.  I’ve never asked you to change the way that you are, and I’ve never tried pushing you into doing something you didn’t want to do.  But I’m going to ask you for something now.  That woman out there loves Daniel with all her heart, and he loves her.  There’s also a young boy out there who adores our son.  They both desperately want to be with him.  Please don’t try to take that away from Daniel because of Cooper Ministries.  Our son deserves better than that.”

“I know,” Cliff said in a low voice, still turned toward the window.

Surprised, Bonnie remained silent, staring at the back of his head.  At last, her husband turned toward her.

“All these years I’ve put my ministry above everything else.  Even during those first few years when we were starting out, I spent more time on church business than I did with you.  And it didn’t change when Daniel was born.  I’ve always been a minister first and a husband and father second.  Then, after the television ministries started, I became both a minister and a businessman first and foremost.”  Cliff’s gaze went to Daniel.  “And it took this, seeing our son lying on the edge of death for me to realize it, for me to wake up to what I’ve become.”  He turned back to her.  “How can I make it up to him, Bonnie?  How can I pay him back for all these years that I’ve been less than a father to him?”

Bonnie came forward and took his hands.  “You don’t have to pay him back, Cliff.  He’s not asking for payment on a debt owed.  All he’s ever wanted was your love, and attention, and approval.  You can still give him that.”

“And what if he dies, Bonnie?” Cliff asked, his voice rough with anguish.  “What if we lose him before I can give him what I should have been giving him his whole life?”

“He’s not going to die, Cliff.  I feel in my heart that it’s not his time to be with God.”  Bonnie went to the bed and gently caressed Daniel’s forehead.  “He’s going to make it.  I know he is.”

Cliff came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder, taking Daniel’s hand with the other one.  “I pray that you’re right.”

Bonnie looked up at him.  “Cliff, there is something that you can do for him now.”

“What?  I’ll do whatever I can.”  He listened as his wife told him what she wanted him to do.

“Don’t worry, Bonnie.  I’ll deal with this.  I know just how to handle it.”

Alex smiled as Dylan finished recounting the last of the stories Daniel’s mother had told him.  Learning about these little pieces of Daniel’s life while he was growing up was making her wish that she had known him then.  If she had, would they have been friends?  She had a feeling they would have.  She liked the idea of him walking her home from school, sitting beside her in class--giving her her first kiss.  In her mind’s eye, she saw them going steady though high school, him taking her to the senior prom, graduating and going on to college together.  Then, their wedding, the children, the grandchildren.  It was a nice image, the thought of spending her entire life with him.

As the images played through her mind, she realized that she’d never thought this way about Steve.  Yes, she’d pictured herself being with him for the remainder of her life, but she had never thought about how wonderful it would have been to have known him from childhood, to have grown up with him, always being with him.

Alex and Dylan sat together and looked through some magazines.  Hearing someone coming down the hall, Alex glanced up and was shocked to see Molly and Kevin.

“Molly!  What are you doing here?  Who’s taking care of things at the inn?  Don’t tell me you left Boris to do everything by himself.”  A memory of what happened the last time the Russian was left to run the inn came to her mind.

“No, Dad and Nub volunteered to help.”

Alex’s eyebrows lifted.  “Are you sure the Widow’s Walk will still be standing when we get back?”

Molly smiled.  “I think so.  They shouldn’t have too much to do, what with no guests staying there.”

“Molly, did you forget that the group from the Seahorse Club is coming over today?”

The blonde’s hand flew to her mouth, a look of dismay widening her eyes.  “Oh no!  I did forget.  There’s supposed to be over a dozen people in that group.”

Alex chuckled.  “I think Brian and Nub are going to get a workout.  It’s a good thing those people aren’t spending the night.”  Her smile faded as she gazed at Molly.  “Thanks for coming, Mol.”  She got up and embraced her friend.  She then looked over at Kevin.  “Thanks, Kevin.”

The cop nodded.  “Has there been any more news?”

“No.  It’s still going to be a long time before we know anything.”  Alex looked at the suitcases, which Kevin had set on the floor to either side of him.  “What’s the other suitcase for?”

“That’s for me,” Molly told her.  “I’m staying with you.”

“Oh, Molly.  You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.  I want to be here with you.”

Alex hugged her again.  “Thank you so much, Mol,” she whispered, unable to stop her voice from trembling.

Molly searched the redhead’s eyes.  “Would you like to go someplace to talk?”

Alex nodded.

The blonde looked at her friend’s son.  “So, Dylan, are you ready to go back with Kevin?”

“We have to wait,” Alex told her.  “Daniel’s mother asked me to wait a couple of hours.  I don’t know why.”

Kevin looked closely at Alex.  Her face was drawn, her eyes bloodshot.  He could see that she had been suffering through a lot of emotional pain and probably really needed to have a long talk with someone.

“Why don’t you guys go and have your talk?  I’ll stay with Dylan,” he said.

Alex turned to him, gratitude in her eyes.  “Thank you.”

Kevin gave her an encouraging smile, then sat beside Dylan.  “So, you know any games we can play?”

Molly took Alex’s hand and led her down the hall.

“Where are we going?” the redhead asked.

“Someplace where we can talk alone.”  Seeing what she’d been looking for, Molly headed toward it, but felt Alex balk.

“Mol, I really don’t think--”

“Why not?” the blonde asked, not waiting for her friend to finish her objection.  “It’s quiet, relatively private, and nobody’s going to mind us being in there.”

“I. . . .  Oh, all right.  I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Smiling, Molly led Alex into the chapel.  The two women sat on a pew.  Taking Alex’s hands, Molly scanned her face.  “I want you to tell me how you’re doing, and I want you to tell me everything, none of this ‘I’m all right’ stuff.”

Alex’s gaze dropped, her eyes closing.  “I’m so scared, Molly.  I keep thinking about him, about this year that I’ve known him, all the things he’s done, the time we’ve spent together.  I keep thinking about that night in the church when I confronted him about leaving.”

“What happened?”

“He . . . he kissed me.  It was . . . incredible.  But then, I thought about the fact that he was thinking of leaving, and I ran away.  I couldn’t face it--or him.  The next day, after he told his father that he was staying, he came to me and told me too.  He offered his heart to me, and I didn’t take it.  All I did was ask if he was ready to give it.  I didn’t tell him that I was ready to give mine--because I didn’t know if I was.  If only I had known that. . . .”  Alex’s voice trailed off as her throat closed up.

Molly reached into her pocket and pulled out the choker Daniel had given to Alex.  She handed it to her friend.  Alex looked down at the piece of jewelry, her fingers slowly closing over it.  She took a deep breath, which turned into a sob.  Suddenly, her whole body was shaking from the force of deep sobs.  Molly pulled her into her arms.

“I love him, Molly.  I love him so much.  And now he’s going to die.  I’m going to lose him.”

“No, Alex.  Please don’t say that.  You can’t think that way.  You can’t give up hope.  As long as Daniel’s alive, he has a chance.”

“I know.  People keep telling me that I need to believe he’s going to be all right, but I can’t stop thinking that he isn’t going to make it.”

Molly held onto her friend tightly, her face wet from crying for her and for Daniel.  It was not surprising that Alex had this fatalistic attitude considering what she’d already lost in her life.  Molly wished that there was some way to give Alex the hope she so desperately needed.

“You should pray, Child,” said a voice behind them.  The two friends turned to see a woman who couldn’t have been a day under ninety standing in the chapel, her thin, frail body leaning heavily on a cane.  “You should pray for this man you love.”

“I don’t pray,” Alex told her, wiping her face dry.

“Why not?  Don’t you believe in God?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Well, maybe it should be,” the old woman said.  “You talk to your friend here, and she listens.  Do you not think that God would listen?  He is our Father.  Who better to talk to when your soul is crying out for comfort?”

“I did pray.  I prayed when my mom was sick, but it didn’t do any good.” Alex said, not knowing why she was telling a stranger such a private thing.

“And so now, because you didn’t get what you wanted, you don’t pray anymore?”  The woman shook her head.  “What about all the things that God did give you?  Do they not matter?  I prayed to God when my husband was in this hospital, yet, still, he died, and I thanked God for the years I’d been given with him.  I prayed to God when my son was fighting in the great war, and when my boy came home safe and sound, I thanked Him for it.  If John had not come back, then I would have thanked God for the years I was blessed with having my son in my life.  And now, I pray for myself because, soon, I will be passing on, and I am very grateful for these many years that I have been on Earth.  When we lose someone we love, we are quick to blame God, to say that He took the one we love away, but we do not thank Him for blessing us with that person’s presence in our life.  Life is a gift we would not have without Him.  Always remember that, Child.”

Without another word, the elderly woman turned and left.  Alex stared at the entrance to the chapel, disturbed by the woman’s words.  Suddenly, she felt like she needed to be with Daniel.

“I need to see Daniel, Molly.  Can you and Kevin wait with Dylan?” she asked.

“Of course, Alex.  We’ll wait as long as you need us to.”

The two women returned to the waiting room.

“Dylan, I’m going to visit with Daniel for a while,” Alex told her son.  “Kevin and Molly will keep you company here until they take you home.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Surprised, Alex turned to the person who had spoken.  Cliff Cooper walked up to them.  Bonnie was with him.

“I’ve made arrangements with the hospital.  They will allow your son to see Daniel,” the reverend said.

“They will?  You . . . you talked to them?”  Alex couldn’t believe it.  She had never thought that Daniel’s father would do something like this.

Cliff nodded.  “I did it for Daniel.  I know that he would want both of you to be with him.”

“I don’t know what to say.  Thank you.”  Alex looked at Bonnie, knowing that this was the reason why the woman had told her to wait to send Dylan home.  “Thank you, Bonnie.”

“There’s no need to thank us, Alex.  Now, you two go and see Daniel.  I’m sure he’s been waiting for you.”

Smiling, Alex looked down at her son, who had an excited smile on his face.  “Come on, Dylan.  Let’s go see Daniel.”

As they walked through the ICU, they got several odd looks from people, and Alex heard a few furtive whispers, but nobody confronted them.  Just before entering Daniel’s room, Alex took her son’s hand.

“Dylan, I need to tell you that they’ve had to hook Daniel up to some monitors and machines.  I wanted to let you know before we go in because it might upset you.”

The boy nodded, holding onto her hand tightly.

Alex pushed the door open, and they went inside.  Daniel lay as he had before, showing no outward signs that anything had changed from yesterday.  Alex looked down at Dylan to see how he was handling things.  His grip on her hand had tightened even more, and there was an expression of alarm on his face.

“Mom?” he said in a quavering voice.

“It’s all right, Dylan.”  Alex led him to the bed.  She took the minister’s hand.  “Daniel, Dylan’s here.  We’re both here now.”  She returned her gaze to her son.  “Talk to him, Dylan.  I know he can hear you.”

“D-Daniel?”  Dylan suddenly began to cry.  “I-I’m sorry, Daniel.  I didn’t want you to get hurt.  I’m sorry I went riding and didn’t come back when Mom told me to.  I don’t want you to die.  Please get better.”

Crying, Alex held onto her son as he wept, her hand still clinging to Daniel’s.  It was a long time before Dylan’s tears stopped.  Pulling the other chair over to the bed, she then sat with him at the minister’s side.

“What’s wrong with him, Mom?” Dylan asked, his eyes not leaving Daniel’s face.

“When Daniel got hit on the head, it caused bleeding inside his skull.  Now, some of the blood has clotted together into something that’s called a hematoma.  This hematoma is pushing against Daniel’s brain, which is very dangerous.  If it gets worse, it will cause damage.  The doctors are giving him drugs to make the hematoma break up and go away, but if it doesn’t work, then they’ll have to operate to remove the hematoma.”

“What will happen if they have to operate?”

Alex closed her eyes, not knowing how she was going to tell her son the truth.

“He’ll die, won’t he,” Dylan said, seeing the look on his mother’s face.

Alex laid her other hand on her son's.  “Daniel’s kidney was injured in the accident, and he was bleeding internally.  He lost a lot of blood before they were able to operate.  Because of that and the operation, Daniel is very weak.  The doctors are afraid that if they have to operate, he won’t be strong enough to . . . to survive.”  Alex swallowed the lump in her throat.  “But he could still be all right, Dylan.  Even if they have to operate, he could still be okay.  We can’t give up.  Daniel needs us to be strong.  He needs us to believe that everything is going to turn out fine.”

Alex’s words had been spoken to herself as much as they had been to Dylan.  She knew that her father’s abandonment, her mother’s death, and Steve’s choice of his career over her and Dylan had bred in her a pessimistic attitude.  When Cliff had asked Daniel to join his ministry, she had been certain Daniel would leave, despite the fact that he had told her he hadn’t decided what he was going to do.  And now, Daniel was hovering between life and death, and no matter how many times she told herself that he was going to live, deep inside, she was certain he was going to die.

“I want to pray for him, Mom.  I want to ask God to make him better.  Is . . . is that okay?”  Dylan looked up at his mother pleadingly.  He knew that she didn’t pray and had never been really happy about him going to church.  But she had let him go because he wanted to and because she liked Daniel and knew he did too.

“Of course it’s okay, Dylan,” Alex said.  “You pray as much as you want.”  She knew how much Daniel’s influence had affected Dylan.  The minister’s deep, unwavering faith was being instilled in her son.  He eagerly attended church every Sunday, and she had often seen him kneeling at the foot of his bed at night, silently praying.  Though she had not liked it at first, she had come to accept her son’s choice to become involved in religion.

Dylan knelt on the floor, clasped his hands before him, and bowed his head.  Watching her son pray for Daniel’s life was almost too much for Alex to take.  She quickly stood and went to the window, her eyes tightly closed and her chest heaving with the effort to keep herself from crying aloud.

Opening her eyes, she was shocked to meet the gaze of the old woman who had been in the chapel.  The woman was outside looking directly up at the window Alex was standing at.  For a breathless moment, the woman just stood there, her eyes seemingly looking straight into Alex’s, then she turned and walked away to disappear around the corner.

Brian and Nub sat at a table, their legs stretched out leisurely before them.  A total of six people had come to eat since Molly left with Kevin.  Nub had taken their orders and passed them on to Boris as Brian stood behind the bar “supervising,” as he put it.

“Well, I’d say that the day is going pretty well, Nub,” the mayor commented.  “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble taking care of things here while Molly is gone.  This restaurant stuff is pretty easy.”

“As long as we don’t have to do the cooking,” Nub said.  “It’s almost lunch, though.  There will probably be more people coming then.”

“We’ll be able to handle it, Nub.  We’ve got this waiter thing down pat.”

“What about mixing drinks?”

“I’ve been reading that book.  It doesn’t sound too hard.”

Callie came in and spied the two men.  She went up to them.  “Some people told me, but I just had to see it for myself.  You guys are actually taking orders and cleaning tables?”

“That’s right,” Brian replied, failing to mention that Nub had taken all the orders and cleaned all the tables so far.  “We’re running the Widow’s Walk until Molly comes back from the mainland.”

The journalist sat down.  “How’s Daniel?  I heard that his condition is worse.”

The mayor’s manner changed.  He grew sober.  “Yes.  He may need surgery, and the doctors are worried that he’s too weak to survive it.”

Callie closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head.  “I can’t believe this is happening.  I mean, the thought that Daniel might. . . .”  She took a deep breath.  “I just can’t imagine Hope without him.  He’s only been here a year, but, somehow, it seems like he’s always been here.  He’s become so much a part of this place.  If he dies. . . .”

“He won’t die,” Nub said quietly.

“How can you be so sure?” Callie asked.

“I don’t know.  It’s just a feeling I have.  I just know that he’s going to be all right.”

“I wish I had your confidence, Nub,” the journalist said.  “Everyone is praying for him.  They’ve started posting cards and letters on the bulletin board.  I went to the community church a little while ago, and there was nearly a dozen people there.  People are leaving flowers and other things on the altar.  I have no idea where the flowers are coming from.”

“They’re getting them from Kenny,” Nub told her.  “He has a greenhouse.  He came into town earlier to ask about Daniel.  When we told him about the change in Daniel’s condition, he went home.  He came back a while later and started handing out the flowers, telling everyone that they were for Daniel.  Father Mac says that a lot of people have brought flowers to the Catholic church to place on the altar.”

“I wish there was something more we could do,” Callie said.  “I feel so helpless being here while Daniel is over there in that hospital.”

“Maybe you should go visit him,” Nub suggested.

“I’d like to, but I don’t want to intrude upon his parents.”

“Well, I couldn’t say much for his parents if they considered it an intrusion for a friend of Daniel’s to visit him in the hospital,” Brian said bluntly.  “If it was Molly in the hospital, I’d want all her friends coming to visit.”

Surprised at Brian’s remark, Callie didn’t say anything for a moment.  “I guess you’re right.  I’ll catch the afternoon ferry out.”

“Would you mind some company?” asked Father Mac, who had just stepped up to the table.

Callie, Brian, and Nub turned to the priest.  “No, not at all,” the journalist told him.

“Nearly all of my parishioners have come into the church asking for news of Daniel,” Father Mac told them.  “The place has virtually been turned into a florist shop.  Kenny must have completely emptied his greenhouse.  I promised my parishioners that I would personally check on Daniel.”

“You should bring him some of the flowers,” Nub said.

“Yes, I think I will.  One of the potted ones would be nice and perhaps a bouquet or two.”

Callie and Father Mac went off to choose which would be the best flowers to take, leaving Nub and Brian alone at the table again.  A customer called to Nub for a refill on his coffee.  He had just finished pouring it when he heard the front door open.  Nub looked up, and his eyes fairly popped out of his skull.

“What are you gaping at, Nu. . . .”  Brian’s voice trailed off as his looked over his shoulder.  At least fifteen people were pouring into the restaurant.  As the mayor and Nub stared in horror, the people all sat down at tables and the bar.

“We’d like some coffee here,” said one person.  The request was immediately followed by a chorus of others.

“Uh . . . Brian,” Nub squeaked, a panic-stricken expression his eyes.

“Now, don’t panic, Nub.  I will take charge of this situation.  Brian Brewster never panics in a crisis.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to brew another pot of coffee.”  With those words, the mayor quickly fled behind the bar.

Nub made a sound halfway between a sob and a groan, covering his face with his hand.

“Excuse me.  Can we get some coffee here?” asked a patron, his voice demanding.

“Help,” Nub whispered to no one in particular.  Then, with a long-suffering sigh, he headed toward the first table.

Two hours later, he was sprawled across the bar, moaning piteously.  Brian was sitting on one of the bar stools snoring like a bear, his face in an almost empty bowl of soup.  The younger man peeled his eyes open and looked over at the mayor.

“Brian.”  No response.  “Briiiaaan,” Nub said a little louder.  Still nothing.  He took a deep breath.  “Brian!”

The mayor sat bolt upright.  “Yes, Mister President!” he blurted out, split pea soup dripping from the tip of his nose.  He looked around in confusion.  “Oh.”  His eyes fixed upon the younger man.  “What do you want, Nub?”

“It’s two o’clock.  Aren’t you supposed to make that call to those people in Florida?”

Brian immediately stood, wincing as every muscle in his body protested.  “Yes, the people in the market for a summer home.”  He straightened his jacket and smoothed back his hair, then turned and headed for the door.

“Um, Brian?”

The man turned to Nub.  “What is it, Nub?  I’m in a hurry.”

“I just thought you might want to wipe the soup off your nose before you go outside.”

The mayor touched his nose, then looked at the green liquid on his finger.  A flush coming to his face, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped off the soup, not looking at Nub.  Squaring his shoulders, he then strode outside.

Nub’s eyes slid shut as another moan escaped his lips.  He didn’t even look up as someone came in and sat at the bar.

“Hey, buddy.  Are you dead or something?” said a rough voice.

Nub lifted his head and looked at the stranger.

“I want a screwdriver,” the man said.

“A screwdriver?” Nub asked.

“Yeah, a screwdriver, and don’t take all day about it.”

His eyes only half open, Nub reached under the counter and grabbed a screwdriver from the small toolbox, placing it in front of the man.  He then began walking toward the kitchen, staggering only slightly.

“Hey!  What is this?” the man asked angrily.

Nub came back and picked up the screwdriver.  He stared at it a moment.  “Oh.  Sorry.”  He put the flat-head screwdriver back in the box and pulled out a phillips-head screwdriver, which he set on the counter.

As he turned to leave, the man suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt, nearly pulling him over the bar.

“I don’t appreciate comedians!  You won’t be laughing much when I break your jaw.  Now, give me my drink!”

A heavy hand was suddenly laid on his shoulder.  The man spun around to see Boris glaring down at him.  The guy instantly grew two shades paler.

“Why you yell at Nub?  Why you grab him like that?” the Russian asked.  “Boris does not like people yelling at his friends and grabbing them.  You let go now.”

The man immediately released Nub’s shirt, shrinking back in his seat.

“Now, you say sorry to Nub, then sit and be nice or Boris will hang you up on wall and play Pin the Tail on Jackass.”

“Donkey,” Nub corrected in a small voice.

“No, Boris thinks he use right word this time.”

Making himself as small as possible, the man slid off the bar stool and slunk out of the Widow’s Walk.

“I guess he decide he not want screwdriver after all,” Boris commented.

“A screwdriver?  Ahhh, that’s right.  It’s a drink.” Nub said, the haze of exhaustion having lifted.

“Yes.  Made with vodka and orange juice.  But I think that man not come back here for drink again.”

“Thanks, Boris.”

The Russian nodded.  He studied Nub’s face.  “You should go home and sleep for hour.  Then you come back feeling better.”

“I can’t.  Brian and I promised Molly that we’d take care of the place.  Besides, I can’t leave you alone to do everything.”

“Widow’s Walk and Boris will be good without you for one hour.”  Boris looked around.  “So, where is Mayor?”

“He had to make a phone call.  He’ll be back soon–unless he falls asleep in the chair.”

“Then Boris will go wake him up.”

Nub stifled a yawn.

“You go moosh moosh now, get some sleep,” Boris ordered.

“Well . . . all right, just for an hour.”

The Russian smiled.  “Good.  You wake Brian up and bring him back with you when you come back.  There will be more people for dinner.”

Nub groaned.  “Don’t remind me.”

Thanking Boris, Nub left and headed toward his boat and his cot.

NEXT CHAPTER