Josie gave her the details, without much hope that anyone would catch Mitch. A gray-haired man in a white lab coat would be invisible in a hospital.

Nate was still sleeping when Josie returned to his room. He seemed to be growing smaller, as if his life were slowly leaking away. Who would have thought my handsome young pilot would end like this? she thought. Nate looked old and exhausted. His skin had an unhealthy yellow tinge.

"Nate," she whispered. "Fight. Your daughter needs you."

Nate didn't move. Josie squeezed his hand, and wished she wasn't so useless. There was nothing she could do but wait. She settled into the uncomfortable turquoise chair next to the bed. Her arm ached where Mitch had manhandled her. Why didn't I give Mitch the key to the storage locker? she asked herself. I don't want that money.

Because Nate doesn't want Mitch to have it. But what am I going to do with a storage locker full of cash? There are worse problems to have, Josie decided. She held Nate's hand and eventually drifted off to sleep.

"There you are," a man said. His loud voice startled her awake. Josie had been asleep-and drooling. Lovely.

She blinked and saw Nate standing at the room door. He was thin again, and muscular. His hair was thick and gray, but it was her Nate, hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, confident smile on his face.

"Nate?" Josie said.

"Jack Weekler," the man said. He had a slight British accent. He shook Josie's hand. "And you must be Nate's . . . erm." His voice trailed off.

Nate's erm, Josie thought. That describes me as well as anything.

"I'm Josie Marcus," she said, standing and shaking his hand. "I'm sorry we have to meet in a hospital. My mother, Jane, called you in Toronto."

"Fine woman. She was kind enough to pick me up at the airport. Jane is parking the car. She told me to go on up and see my son. How is he?"

"I'm not sure," Josie said. "He was talking a little while ago, but he sleeps a lot. I'm not a relative, so I can't get a complete report from the doctors."

Jack studied the pale, still form of his son. "Doesn't look good, does he? Was he on a bender?"

"He'd been drinking a little," Josie said.

"A little? You don't have to lie to me, Josie. If Nate was drinking, it was a lot."

"Okay, he was drunk," Josie said. "But I'm not sure this was caused by alcohol. Nate might have been poisoned."

"Poisoned! The only poison Nate ever took was in a beer bottle. He's nearly destroyed his liver with drink. The doctors warned him to sober up."

"I don't think he took poison on purpose," Josie said. "It may have been accidental. They suspect it was in some chocolate cake."

"Nate doesn't eat cake," his father said. The man's voice grew louder with every sentence.

Nate opened one bleary eye and said, "Hi, Pop. Why are you bellowing in my room?"

"I came to see you, you idiot," his father said. "What kind of mess are you in now?"

"I think I've been killed by a cake," Nate said. "I knew there was a reason I drank. Can't trust food."

"You're not dead yet," Jack said. "What can I do for you?"

"Quit staring at me like a sick ba.s.set hound. Make sure my daughter, Amelia, gets my life insurance."

"I was going to do that anyway," Jack said.

"Then shut up so I can sleep," said his son, and closed his eyes.

"Have you eaten yet, Mr. Weekler?" Josie asked.

"Jack, please. I feel old enough already. I had some food on the plane. I'm not really hungry. Maybe later. I'll go talk to the head nurse and see what I can find out."

Jack had been gone about five minutes when Josie's mother came in, cheeks bright pink from the cold, every hair in place. Jane took off her coat, and Josie saw that her mother was wearing her new rust-colored pantsuit. It made her look slim and stylish.

"You wouldn't believe the hospital parking lot," Jane said. "Every s.p.a.ce was taken. People were double-parking in the driveway. I finally found a place by a Dumpster and hiked here. How's Nate?"

"About the same," Josie said. "How's Jack?"

"He's cute," Jane said.

Cute? Her mother was calling a man "cute"?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jane said.

"Because you sound like your granddaughter. You really think Jack is cute?"

Jane shrugged. "He's a good-looking man with nice manners. These are trying circ.u.mstances, Josie, but he's behaving well. He's offered to take me out to dinner tonight."

"Are you going?" Josie asked.

"I'm thinking about it. But a woman shouldn't be too available."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Mother."

"Call me old-fashioned, Josie, but sometimes the old ways work," Jane said.

"What old ways?" Jack asked. His trip to the nurses' station had aged him by ten years.

"What's wrong?" asked Jane.

"Let's step into the family waiting room down the hall," Jack said.

The little room was furnished with comfortable pale pink couches, a basket of apples, a pile of magazines, and a TV that played mindless shows at high volume. The set had no OFF switch.

Jack reached up and yanked the TV's plug.

"Thank you," Josie said. "Now I can hear myself think. You look like you got bad news."

"I did. They think it's poison, possibly antifreeze. They're testing the cake carton you brought in, Josie. My son's liver and kidneys are damaged. His ammonia levels are up, which is a bad sign. They're going to try dialysis, but they're not holding out much hope."

"I'm sorry," Josie and Jane said together.

"They said a woman already died of antifreeze poisoning. At least that's what the autopsy found. Nate ate the same thing she did. That d.a.m.ned cake."

"Why would anyone try to kill Nate?" Josie asked.

"Nate ran with a bad crowd for a while, Josie. He's kept money hidden away for years. I don't know where, but I suspect it's a lot. They may be trying to get it. But I don't think they'd poison a cake to get my Nate. They'd be better off pouring antifreeze in his beer-or shooting him."

"Nate wasn't a regular at Elsie's Elf House," Josie said. "I think he only went there once, to buy a treat for Amelia."

Josie watched the horror register on Jane's face. Her granddaughter had been nearly poisoned.

"It must have been random, like those horrible Tylenol killings years ago," Jane said. "Remember when that man killed those innocent people so he could murder his wife and make it look random? Otherwise, I'm sure no one would want to kill Nate."

Except me, Josie thought. A few days ago I would have given anything to make that man disappear.

Her unspoken words seemed to hang in the air. Jane finally broke the awkward silence. "We should go back and see Nate. What time is it?"

Josie checked her cell phone clock. "Two thirty-two," she said.

"I'd better get Amelia at school," Jane said.

"Mom, I don't want Amelia here at the hospital," Josie said.

"It's her right, Josie, and don't argue with me."

"Please let her come. It may help Nate," his father said.

Josie couldn't refuse his request, but she was worried. Amelia was so young. Would the sight of her dying father scar her for life? But if I don't let her see Nate, she's already scarred. A parent can't win, Josie thought.

After a long time, Jane returned with Amelia. Josie blinked in surprise. Her daughter looked so grown-up she could have been eighteen. Amelia must have stopped at home first and changed into her good coat. Under it she wore a navy sweater and pants. She was nearly as tall as Jane, and Amelia's rich brown hair fell almost to her shoulders. There was no doubt that Amelia was Nate's daughter.

Jack gave a little gasp and said, "You're beautiful, my girl."

"Thank you. You must be my grandfather," Amelia said gravely, and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek.

Then she ran for the hospital bed. "Daddy!" she said. "I'm sorry you're sick."

"Me, too, sweetheart," Nate said.

"When are you going to get out of here?" Amelia asked.

"In a few days," he said.

"Are you going to marry Mom?" Amelia asked.

"Amelia!" Josie said, her cheeks red with embarra.s.sment.

"No, honey," Nate said. "If I did that, she'd inherit all my debts and all my troubles. The law would be watching her every move, and so would some of my bad friends. I love your mother, and she loved me-at least the man she thought I was. I should have married her before you were born, but I did something selfish and wrong."

"Did you really sell drugs?" Amelia asked.

"Yes. I'm ashamed to say I did."

"But why, Daddy?" Their daughter was an innocent accusing angel. Josie wanted to weep.

Nate looked like he was in terrible pain. Josie was about to ask Amelia to stop, but Nate said, "Because I wanted easy money. It was wrong. It was stupid. I learned a hard lesson, Amelia: There's no such thing as easy money. It cost me too much. It cost me my life. It cost me time with you."

Bright tears slid from Amelia's eyes. "You're going to leave me, now that you've come back."

"No, Amelia, I'll always be with you. You have my hair. You have my eyebrows." He traced their arch with a shaky finger.

"You have my nose." His index finger slid lightly down her freckled nose.

"Look in the mirror and you'll always see me. I'll be there with you. You won't be alone. I suspect you also have your mother's grit and stubbornness. And her temper. I bet you're pretty p.i.s.sed at her right now."

Amelia nodded.

"But you must promise me. No matter what, you mustn't be mad at your mother. She did the right thing."

"But-" Amelia said.

"No daughter of mine should a.s.sociate with a drug dealer, even if he is her father. You will stay away from drugs, and you will try to understand that your mother did the right thing."

Nate held out his little finger and crooked it. "Pinkie swear," he said. "That's the most sacred oath of all."

Josie felt her eyes tear up. Nate used to say that to her.

Amelia locked little fingers with him. "Pinkie swear," she said.

"And you are going to college," he said.

"Absolutely," Amelia said, as if she'd never considered any alternative. That's why Josie wanted her daughter to go to the Barrington School. Almost all the students went to college. "My grades are good enough for a scholarship."

"Promise me you'll keep them that way?" Nate said.

They locked fingers again.

A nurse came in with a strong-looking man in purple scrubs. "It's time for dialysis, Mr. Weekler," she said. "Chet will take you on down."

Amelia looked like she was going to cry again, but her father held her.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," he said. "We didn't have much time together. But it was quality time."

Chapter 18.

Nate's room looked like a medical battlefield. The floor was littered with torn-open alcohol-wipe packets and plastic needle covers. The sheets on his empty bed were twisted, and his thin pillow was flattened. The bed looked hard and uncomfortable, a rack for pain.