"Hello? I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm, uh, looking for someone who knows Diane Sommers."

"Who?"

"Diane Sommers? Is there someone there who..."

Click.

If Diane's E had moved, I could call all over the world without luck. There had to be a better approach. I could check her personnel file with Mr. Barnes at work, but I wasn't optimistic. I fired up her laptop and checked everything I could think of. Apparently, she hadn't yet used it much for work, as there were only a handful of files.

In the morning, after calling Barnes, I could call her old employer. Somebody had to know something. Someone she worked with might have seen her date Spring's father, or knew an aunt she'd lunch with. Somebody. Someone had to know Diane.

Someone out there knew something. Although I had come to care deeply for Spring, there was someone out there who could do a considerably better job of raising her. Her staying with me long-term was not an option. I couldn't take care of a little girl. Hell, I couldn't even give her a bath without the need of a first-aid kit.

Futile though I knew it was going to be, I decided to go to bed. But first I checked on Spring again just to make sure she was okay. She was sleeping soundly with the Teddy Bear duck which she had named Mr. Jimmy on her pillow next to her cheek.

I gave her one more kiss on the forehead.

Diane always told me that Spring needed a routine. I had a feeling that this applied to me as well. I needed something to do and to keep my mind occupied, seeing how everything in my life had changed not once but twice in the last couple of months. Although I was the same guy, some of my friends might not recognize the changes in me, and some of them wouldn't like those changes at all. I hadn't been to the Magenta Martini in a month and I hadn't spent much time hanging out with Jim just a couple of dinners at my place with Diane and Spring, and even once with his kids. And I hadn't spent any social time at all with Hank. It wasn't like those guys required a lot of maintenance. A beer or tequila shot here and there, a bit of trash talk, and a crooked smile for a waitress, that was it. But I hadn't toasted booze, babes, or season tickets since the second week of the football season.

I sought reassurance in the one thing in my life that remained constant: my job. I needed to get up and go to work to feel a semblance of normalcy. At the funeral, as some generic minister paid tribute to a woman he'd never met, a part of me wished it would be over so I could get back to the office. I decided that I would go in the next day.

Since I'd known her, Spring had been a morning girl, running around the apartment doing things with her mother, while I tried desperately not to hear in the hopes that I could squeeze out another hour or so of sleep. That morning, I should have known there was a problem when I tapped on her door. She was up, but she wasn't ready to come out.

"Spring?" I opened the door. On her bed, she had stacked a pile of her clothes and was hiding behind them. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

That pretty much said it. Her nightgown was off and she had one leg in her stretch pants. My first thought was that as she'd started to get dressed, she collapsed on the bed in grief. But then I realized there was something more fundamental at play here. Diane had always helped her to get dressed.

"Do you need a hand?"

She nodded.

I helped her climb into her pants and then we picked a shirt out from the pile. Eventually, we were ready to go. Her hair, a little messy yet still presentable, was sans bow. I hadn't mastered the hair thing yet and the best I could muster was a flapping ponytail. I pretended to ignore the pile of clothes.

She hugged me very tightly when I dropped her off at daycare and asked me to stay "just a minute." But then she went off to play and I thought she'd be fine. Less than 20 minutes later, I received a call on my cell asking me to return right away.

When I opened the door, a woman hurried to meet me. "Mr. Hunter?"

"Yes. What happened? Is Spring all right?" I recognized the woman from Diane's funeral. "You were at the funeral. Thank you."

She nodded. "Yes, Stephanie Eckleburg. I watch Spring everyday, and Mr. Hunter, she isn't herself today. Which is to be expected, all things considered, and why I wanted you to return. Why did you bring her in today, Mr. Hunter?"

"I thought she needed her routine."

Stephanie seemed to be in her mid-forties, dour and stern. But when a child passed by, she was still capable of flashing a carefree smile.

"Spring needs time to adjust. While her routine will be comforting when she's ready for it, until then she needs to be around those who care for her. What she needs, Mr. Hunter, is love."

"Yes, I suppose..."

"You are her only..." she paused. "... family?"

"Yes."

"Her grandparents?"

"Deceased."

"Her father?"

"No freaking idea."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Hunter. Spring is very lucky to have a caring guardian."

"Thank you. May I see her?"

"Follow me."

Stephanie led me to a window where I could watch Spring. She sat alone at a table, crayons and paper in front of her, but she wasn't interested in drawing today. She just mumbled something and stared. She didn't appear much different than she had when she was dressing, but in this context and now that it was being called to my attention - I could see how unhappy she looked.

"Is she talking to..."

"Her mother."

"Thank you for calling, I had no idea she was having this much trouble. What should I do?"

"There are books, videos, and hundreds of web pages on how to deal with children. I can give you the name of an excellent social worker."

"What about right now?"

"Love, Mr. Hunter."

I wasn't sure how I was going to provide that, although I was certain that I was the wrong man for the job. The things I witnessed that morning had to be textbook examples of grieving. Yet, I had overlooked them. How? Love. Stephanie might as well have told me to perform heart surgery.

A minute later, Stephanie got Spring for me. I gave the little girl a hug. Her hair looked even messier than it had when we'd left the apartment. I needed to do better with that, too.

Carrying Spring out of the building, I tried to prioritize my activities for the day. "Spring, we're going to run by my office because I have to talk to someone there. And then maybe we could go to the zoo?"

She didn't say anything.

"Remember the penguins? We can go see Mr. Jimmy and get a hot dog, if you want."

She stared over my shoulder.

"What if we spend the whole week together?" As I said this, I tried to figure out how I would deal with all of my work responsibilities. "Would you like that?"

With an emptiness in her eyes, she agreed.

Right now, I was the only person in Spring's life. The 40-pound bundle in my arms depended on D-Man, drinker of tequila and conqueror of inebriated partiers.

Poor thing. I could spin a PR campaign with the best of them. I could convince people that they should drink water that someone might have peed in. But I didn't have any idea how to show love to a child.

We walked for a few blocks before I realized we were at the entrance to Mason Brand. Spring stood stoically next to me and I wondered what Diane would tell me to do. Even after returning for Spring, I had arrived at the office 30 minutes earlier than I had before Diane entered my life. Mason loved it, thinking that I was becoming more responsible. I knew better. When you're up early and the woman you love is already out of the house, you might as well go to work. The funny thing was that I actually felt more productive. Of course, I didn't usually show up with a kid next to me.

"Dylan."

With the soft intonation, I didn't need to look to know who it was, just what she was wearing. "Laurel. Hi."

"And who is this?"

"Spring, this is Laurel. Laurel, this is my new executive assistant."

"You are a darling little girl," Laurel said with the kind of voice that adults use on kids when they aren't accustomed to talking to kids. I remembered it well.

"Isn't she?" Just like her mother. "Is Mason in?"

"Are you kidding? Of course, he's in. By 9:30, he's usually getting ready for lunch. Would you like me to look after ..." She pointed to Spring.

Spring didn't have to smile to get people to like her. She just had to show up. At another time in my life, I might have wondered how I could use this to my advantage. I asked Spring if she would stay with Laurel for a few minutes.

"You'll be right back?" she said.

"Right back."

She nodded.

I knocked on Mason's door. "May I see you?"

"Sure, Dylan. How are you doing? How is Spring?"

"You know me, I'm all right." I sat down. "But Spring, she's having some trouble."

Mason walked out from behind his desk and sat next to me, patting my knee.

"Of course she's having trouble. Dylan, that little girl is going through a helluva lot, and you and I will never know how much, but I guaran-goddamn-tee it is going to take some time."

"She needs more time to..."

"More time? Hell, she hasn't had any time. I didn't expect you in today... or this week."

"The week? Mr. Mason, I would sincerely appreciate the time off. If you needed me, I could work from home and I'll keep my cell on. I just don't want to leave Spring in daycare. It's just that I don't know how to help her. I don't even know if I can help her. But I'm the only one she has."

"Dylan, that's how we get by. We do the best we can with what we have. And if that means putting our lives on hold while we figure out how the pieces fit together, then that's what we have to do. That's what you have to do."

"I don't have time," I said, "to put my life on hold. There are a hundred things I need to get to and every one of them is screaming at me."

Mason pulled his chair in a little closer. Close enough to where I could see the lines in his face. Mason wasn't born into money and, for that alone, I would have respected him. So many people started off the same way, but times were different 50 years ago. While I had always wondered what it would be like to be in the Army or the Marines, Mason knew. He fought in the war under General MacArthur - twice. The first time was in 1950 when UN forces recaptured Seoul, and the second time was after President Truman relieved MacArthur of his command. For the last twelve years of MacArthur's life, the general lectured against politics and hired Mason to keep him out of real trouble. That was Mason's first real gig.

"Dylan, there are more important things in life than working. Don't get me wrong. If you work for me, you'd better work hard... and I know you do. But that isn't why we work. We work to enjoy the other things in life our family, our friends. I was glad when you found that lady friend. If you're happy at home, you're happy at work. And those goddamn drivers around here! We were awful sorry to learn about Diane.

"Thirty years ago, my wife, God rest her soul, got breast cancer. I was 35 and our boy Denny was 13 then. I tell you, it ate her up, Dylan. I think about her a lot. Of course, it's been so damned long ago. Denny has his own kids. He remembers some things about his mother, but he's forgotten plenty. I hate that.

"What you can do with Spring is spend as much time with her as possible. Help get her back on her feet. And she'll do the same for you." He slapped my knee. "Take the rest of the month off. Stay with Spring. Work is work. And Billie can stomp on the fires, while you're out. You'll do the same for her one of these days."

"Mr. Mason..."

"I said don't worry. It's just work. That's why I pay you so well. It never goes away and we'll have plenty of hoops for you to jump through when you get back."

"I can work from home."

"Dylan, you have a different job to do right now. Get the hell out of here." Mason walked back behind his desk. "Take care of Spring. She needs you."

"But she's not mine."

He looked at me sternly. "Didn't you just say that you're all she has?"

I nodded.

Mason leveled his eyes on me. "Do I need to say anything else?"

Leaving Mason's office, I didn't know how to feel. I hadn't had a month off since before college. If Billie was going to be "stomping fires," I'd be fine as long as she didn't steal my clients in the process. It probably wouldn't take me a month to find the right home for Spring, but it was good to know that the time was available, if I needed it.

At the end of the hall, Laurel and Billie huddled around Spring. I hurried my pace to reach her. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Laurel said. "Just us girls chatting."

Spring sat between Billie, who continued to look out of place next to her, and Laurel, who kept a pencil's width away from her. In her yellow jacket, Spring looked like a piece of cheese in a Gucci sandwich.

"I'm not going to ask what you were chatting about. It's better if I don't know. Ready to go, Spring?"

Spring took my hand and we walked to the elevator. Billie escorted us.

"Dylan, call if you need anything..." Laurel said.

"I'm going to take some time off," I said to Billie. "Maybe we can talk later?"

"Sure, D-Man. Maybe I'll bring some dinner by later this week? Indian?"

"Thanks. Sounds good." It was nice to see that Billie cared. "Bye."

The elevator doors closed.

"Spring, I want to talk to you about something. Remember when I asked you if you'd like me take the week off?"

She tipped her head, which I assumed meant yes.

"What if I took the whole month off? Would you like that?"