so," Riles said.

"Well." Don raised his glass. "Thanks."

"Bon voyage." They clinked glasses and that was that. Riles and Kai
were skilled at such things; they had a knack for moving on. It was a
part of their youthfulness. Good genes helped, too, Don thought. Not to
mention the financial wisdom of dear departed Redmond.

An hour later Don said goodnight. Feeling almost a member of the
family, he went downstairs and fell asleep on the bed in the basement.

The next day he made his way to the park. "Mornin', Ruby."

"Morning to you. You late today."

"Going to be a long day. I'm taking the train north."

"Oh, my."

Don pulled the drawing from the cardboard tube and unrolled it, holding
it up for her to see.

"Wooo," she said, "I used to be better lookin'."

"You still good looking."

"I like it."

"I signed it here." He pointed.

"Don Dela--hanty," she read.

"An original Delehanty. You hang on to it, maybe it will be worth
something, someday."

"What you mean?"

He rolled the drawing and put it back in the tube. "It's for you; it's
a present." He held it out. Ruby hesitated and then took it.

"Been a while since I had a present."

"So," Don said, "take care. See you when I get back."

"Lord willing. Thank you. Thank you for the present." The walls came
down and she smiled like a girl.

"My pleasure." He bowed and walked toward the river. The Silver Meteor
was due at 5:50.

Don got to bed with Lorna that summer. She wasn't quite it, though he
loved her and would never tell her that. He did a portrait of her, his
best yet, and gave it to Molly knowing that Lorna wouldn't accept it or
would feel guilty for not paying if she did. The days were long and
intense, but the summer was gone in a flash.

Strangely, he was offered a show in New York--his other long time
dream--by a gallery owner who was after Lorna. He did not want to be
involved in their relationship. He turned the show down, pretending
that the requirements were too much trouble. It probably wouldn't have
worked out, anyway, he thought. Some people have a knack for dangling
what you want in front of you; when you reach for it, it disappears.

Late in October he went over to Lorna's and said goodbye. She seemed
sad and a bit relieved. Molly had tears in her eyes and hugged him
wholeheartedly.

The next morning a cold rain was bringing down the leaves as Don
carried his bag to the bus station. The shoulders of his tan raincoat