Callie pointed out landmarks and introduced Angie to various people as they walked to her house, with Callie pretty much keeping up a non-stop monologue.  Nub walked slightly behind the two women; he had stopped briefly to put his watch cap back on over his short blond hair, and after hurrying to catch up with them had just stayed behind.  Angie had looked over her shoulder at him a few times now; he no longer blushed, but still seemed embarrassed to have her meet his own gaze.
 
“And that’s the Widow’s Walk,” Callie told her, pointing to a structure off to their left.  “We’ll go there to eat after you’ve settled in a bit.”  Then Callie looked at Angie and said, nervously, “Unless you’re really hungry now.  I bet you are after that long trip to get here.  We could go eat now if you want ...”
 
Angie realized that her friend was as nervous about this whole thing as she was, though probably for totally different reasons.  Angie had already come to realize that a small community would have to be totally different from the New York way of life she knew, and no longer worried that Nub was going to run off with her suitcase, or someone was going to stick a gun in her face in broad daylight.  Callie was probably nervous that this small island was going to seem dull and boring to a big city woman, though, and was reacting the same way Angie did ... by babbling.
 
“Oh, I can wait until we get the suitcase to your place,” Angie told her.  “I did have a meal on the plane, and it wasn’t bad for airline food.  Unless your place is pretty far from here?”
 
“Oh no, we’re almost there,” Callie assured her, then looked to the right.  A man was planting flowers in a small patch of dirt not far from where they stood.
 
“Hey, Kenny, looking good,” Callie called to him.  He put the pot of flowers down in the hole he had dug, brushed off his hands, then slowly stood up and turned to face them.  Angie noticed immediately that the man was disabled; he kept his head down a bit, slightly turned to the right, as if to hide his obvious affliction.
 
“Hello, Callie Pender,” he said slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable.  “Flowers always look good.  That is why Mayor Brian Brewster has me plant them all over the island.”
 
“He hired you to plant flowers because you do such good work, Kenny,” Callie told him gently, making sure her tone was a compliment.  It would be far too easy for the man to take it as a reprimand, a reminder that he was not as intelligent as the others on the island, and Callie didn’t want him to think she meant it that way.
 
“I like flowers,” he replied, and Callie smiled with relief.
 
“And flowers obviously like you, Kenny,” she added.  “Kenny, I want you to meet my friend, Angie Ramirez.”
 
“Hello, Angie Ramirez,” he said to her, quite formally, but without looking her straight in the eye.
 
“Hello, Ken,” she replied, to which he quickly corrected, “Kenny.  My name is Kenny.”
 
“Kenny.  I’ll remember that; thank you.”  She smiled at him as she said it, taking her cue from the way Callie had spoken to him.
 
“Flowers like me because I talk to them,” Kenny told her.  “Do you like flowers, Angie Ramirez?”  For a brief moment he looked up to see her clearly, but under her steady gaze he quickly dropped his eyes.
 
Before Angie could answer, Nub quietly said, “You’d better get back to your flowers, Kenny, before they get lonely without you.”  Angie looked to him as he said it; there was a smile on his face, too, as they all had held.  His, however, seemed as if he were imagining how pleased the flowers would be to have Kenny planting them.
 
“Oh yes, I have to take good care of them.  Pleased to meet you, Angie Ramirez.  Good bye, Callie Pender, Nub Flanders, and Angie Ramirez.”  He then turned back to his flowers and again knelt by the plant waiting to be taken from the pot.
 
They continued on their way, not meeting any others in the short distance to Callie’s home.  When they reached the door, Angie turned and reached for her suitcase, looking into Nub’s adoring gaze as she did.
 
“Thank you, Nub Flanders, for such wonderful delivery service,” she told him, taking the suitcase from his hand.
 
“My pleasure, Angie,” he said, bowing to her again.
 
“Nub, now that’s a different name.  Is it short for something?”
 
“Yes, it is,” he told her, with a twinkle in his eyes and a slight mischievous look to his smile.
 
“And you’re not going to tell me what it’s short for, are you,” she said, responding to his expression.
 
He continued to smile as he shook his head back and forth in a ‘no’ response.
 
“Bye, Angie,” he told her, and turned and walked away.
 
Angie watched him for a bit, then turned and entered the door Callie had left open after entering.
 
“Just put your suitcase anywhere for now,” Callie told her as she walked in.  “Then come sit over here,” meaning the couch that Callie was seated on, “and we get to the real reason I invited you to come here.” Angie closed the door behind her and put the suitcase down near it.  Shrugging out of her backpack, she walked over to the couch, putting the pack next to it as she sat.  She saw that Callie was holding a manila file folder, and wondered what this was all about.
 
“First,” Callie continued, “you have to swear to me that if this is what I think it is, I get the exclusive on it.  When you can give it, of course.  But the total story, okay?  All the little details no one else would have.  Promise me?”
 
“Uh, well, if I can.   I don’t know what we’re talking about here,”  Angie replied.  Remembering Father Mac’s words about Callie inventing her own news, she wondered just what she had gotten into here, and was there a polite way out?  She found herself comparing the price of the tickets to her meager bank balance and wondering how she could afford to pay back that cost.
 
“That’s fair,” Callie said, nodding.  “Okay, you’re gonna meet him anyway, it’s a small island, so here’s a picture of Daniel Cooper, who just moved here a couple of months ago.”  She reached into her folder and took out an 8 by 10 photo, which she handed to Angie.
 
Angie felt her heart stop for a second, then start racing, even as her breath caught.  The look of surprise on her face was all Callie needed to proclaim, “I knew it.  He’s Rollie Tyler, isn’t he!  When you emailed me that picture of him I said, man, that looks like Daniel, and the more you told me about him the more I thought, has to be, just has to be.”
 
“Can’t be,” Angie said, handing back the picture.  “You said he just arrived here a couple of months ago,” and she looked at her now disappointed friend.  “Rollie’s been missing nearly a year; where was he between then and now, you know?”
 
“Ministry school?”  Callie offered, and to Angie’s look of confusion, explained, “Daniel Cooper is our new Minister.  They can’t just let someone fake it, right?  It would be blasphemy, not to mention the fact any marriages he performed would be illegal.  So they sent him off to pass the Minister’s test, or whatever you do to get ordained, and now he’s here.”
 
Angie smiled sadly.  “Callie, I promise, when I learn what happened to Rollie I will give you everything I know about it.”  She shook her head, and felt tears welling up behind her eyes.  “But no, Daniel isn’t Rollie.”  Then, to fight back to a more even composure, she said, in a flippant tone, “Rollie a minister?  No way.  It’s ..”
 
“The last thing anyone would expect of him, am I right?”  Callie said, leaning slightly toward her friend on the opposite end of the couch.  “What better way to hide him, huh?  Besides, I’ve been thinking about this whole ‘enrolled in the Witness Protection Program’ thing.  Why would they take him out of the picture and not you, eh?”
 
“Because I said no,” Angie said quietly.  Callie stared at her, her mouth still open from her last statement.  In an angry tone Angie explained.   “No way was I gonna lose everything I had worked so hard for just because some criminal was mad at us.”  Then she sighed, and lost her anger as quickly  as it had come.  “I would have thought Rollie would feel the same way.  But if he’s not in the program then he’s dead, and he’s not dead.  I would know if he were.”
 
“Angie,” Callie started, but Angie stared her down.  “I would,” she said with quiet conviction.
 
“But thanks, girlfriend,” Angie told her, patting her hand.  “And you get a tourist story out of this, right?  With all the reasons why I need cheering up ... after I’ve gone home.  And no mention of Rollie looking just like Daniel, okay?”
 
Callie nodded, adding, “I was so sure.  Really, wait until you meet him.  Everything you told me about Rollie - well, you’ll see for yourself.  He’s almost always at the Widow’s Walk this time of evening.”  Then Callie panicked, “and it’s three hours later in New York, oh man, you have to be way past your dinner time here.” Angie laughed, saying, “I’m used to eating at strange hours.  In the movie business you grab it when you can because nothing ever goes to schedule when you’re working.”
 
Callie sighed in relief.  “I have been really worried about this.  Afraid you’d see Daniel before I could tell you about him ....” Angie patted her hand again, saying, “It’s okay, really.  Relax, I’m having a wonderful time already.  I’ll get you a story out of this somehow ... not the one you were looking for, but something newsworthy.” “Make it Pulitzer worthy, will ya?”  Callie asked, and grinned.  “Let’s go eat, girlfriend.  It’s my dinner time and I’m starving.”
 
Together they rose and headed for the door.