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customer in the small restaurant. A cashier sat at the entrance, totally engrossed in filing her nails. “Doesn’t look all that busy to me,” he said, smiling as he grabbed her wrist and gently tried to pull her into the booth.
    “Just a minute,” whispered Amy, and as quickly as she had appeared, she disappeared. Within another second, she had returned and slid into the booth across from Daniel. “Had to get rid of the coffee pot. Okay, I’m seated. What’s up?”
    “I just like to see your beautiful face,” he said, taking her hands and pulling her across the booth where he planted a quick kiss on her lips.
    “Dan,” said Amy, “please, someone may be watching.” She pulled away and slid far back into the bench of her side of the booth.
    “So what?”
    “If you remember, all this secrecy was your idea,” replied Amy, brushing some crumbs off of her otherwise spotless chiffon apron. Her eyes danced with a lively energy. “I’m not ashamed of you.”
    “And I’m not ashamed of you!” he exclaimed. “I’m trying to figure out how to handle everything that’s going on.” He bent over the table and spoke confidentially. “A lot is going on, you know.”
    “I know. I heard what you said on the phone.” Amy crossed her arms and glared at Daniel. “You really are in a pickle, aren’t you? What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the photo that Daniel was fingering.
    “It’s David,” he replied, turning the picture around and holding it up for Amy to see. “High school graduation.”
    “It’s him?” she asked, taking the picture from Daniel.
    He nodded. “Yeah, he graduated from Dexter Military Academy. Blue and gold were their colors. Father sent him there hoping it would improve his behavior and his attitude—but it just made him more resentful.”
    “I probably wouldn’t be able to tell….” She examined the photograph carefully.
    “I know,” Daniel said, cutting her off.
    “What’s with the photo?” she asked, handing it back to Daniel. “Did you show it to your father?”
    “No,” said Daniel. “I wanted to, but, Amy, he just wasn’t open to the idea. And what’s worse…” Daniel sighed and shook his head.
    “What’s worse?” she asked, her tiny mouth opening into a perfect “o,”
    “As I said, he’s worse,” replied Daniel. “God, Amy, he seemed better. He was talking up a storm, arguing, being his old obstreperous self. Then I talked with his physician and he says Father is worse. He says he has only a few months—maybe only a few weeks.” Daniel stared at her and let his words sink in.
    “No,” she said, her brow wrinkled in concern. “I just don’t understand how he can he seem better if he’s really getting worse.”
    “The doctor says…hell….Vickers says it’s because he’s rallying for me. For my benefit. He would do that.” He continued to slowly shake his head.
    “So…so…what are you going to do? How does this affect your plans regarding David?” she asked in a careful, slow voice.
    “I think it makes it even more important that I proceed with my plan—and right away.” He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth and peeked at her over the rim.
    “And us?”
    “I can’t tell him now. I told you about his plans for me and the neighborhood society belle, didn’t I?”
    “Yes, and I don’t like it at all.” She pushed her nose in the air and stuck out her chin, arms crossed.
    “Oh, Sweet,” he said, cajoling and grabbing her hand, which she removed from his grasp. “I have absolutely no interest in any other woman….” He let go of her when a man appeared at their table.
    “Amy, I hope you’re not bothering Mr. Bridgewater,” said the large bearded man, wearing all white—trousers, shoes, shirt, apron, and puffed chef’s cap. “Maybe, he’d like a piece of pie with his coffee.”
    “Sam,” said Daniel, greeting the cook and diner owner. “Amy’s actually keeping me company. She’s helping to get me motivated to get