"Why?"

"She apologized for hugging your leg. I don't know. Maybe she's afraid her mother is going to get angry with her for showing emotion to another woman. She didn't say that, but that's what I think she means."

"What else did she say?"

"She said she misses her mom, and... It pulled at my heart to repeat this. Spring had shared it with her mother in confidence as I eavesdropped, and now I was going to tell Billie. "She said she's scared because she's forgetting what her mom looks like." I sipped the scotch. "She has pictures of Diane, but that's it. Even I'm forgetting the little things like her voice. I check the pictures, too, so I know it isn't the same."

"You really miss her."

"In ways I never would have thought before. Billie, no matter what happened between Diane and me, it's different because of Spring. If she weren't around, I'd have never known Diane had died. They never would have called me from daycare. It would have been like she just disappeared and didn't want to see me again. And if I didn't care to follow up, she would have been just another old friend I'd forgotten another person misplaced in the world. Spring is a reminder that Diane is gone and that there's something more important than booze, babes, and season tickets. It even feels weird to say that. Do I miss her? Yes. But because I see Spring, I miss her more."

Billie reached out for my hand. Her touch was warm and caring, yet foreign to me. As physical as we had always been with each other, we didn't touch this way.

"I don't know how to help her," I said, stroking Billie's hand. "You probably don't know this, but I can be a real asshole sometimes."

Billie laughed.

"No really. I can be. I can be a real asshole. That's why I get paid so well, I guess."

"Why we get paid so well."

"I don't see you that way," I said. "I listen to clients complain, spill their troubles, and I know how to exploit them to my advantage or exploit the public to their advantage. You don't do that. If I was an animal, I'd be a polar bear the kind that eats the penguins."

She traced the outline of my fingers. "What would I be?" As she listened, her head of red hair tipped to the side.

"A lioness." I said, touching her long locks. "Your hair is the mane, and you listen and wait."

"And then strike?"

"I don't know. That wasn't really what I was getting at. You listen and wait."

I could hear the cars on the street and a pigeon at the window. Somewhere, a guy was getting lucky. Somewhere, someone was saying, "I love you." Somewhere, a family was laughing at a sitcom together in a den. Somewhere, an elderly couple held each other and thanked God for 50 years.

"I'm glad you came tonight," I said. "I mean, I'm mortified that you came here tonight, but I'm glad you were here."

She patted my hand. "I don't know what I'd do if I was in your situation," she said.

"It's pretty much guaranteed that you'd do it more gracefully."

"It's early, Dylan."

"Yeah, it's early or it's really late."

On the day before Thanksgiving, I went to Mason Brand like I did every other day, only it wasn't just another day. After the previous night, I knew that everything in my life would remain unstable unless I found someone to take care of Spring. I couldn't stand the idea of Spring going to a foster home. But if I didn't find a real guardian for her, I was going to have to take the gig and I was pretty convinced at this point that I wasn't up to the task. It was later than usual and close to the old time I used to arrive at work, around 10:00 am. Mason had officially closed the office for the next three days, but I knew he would be in there doing whatever he did. I didn't think he'd mind my coming in late. I knew Billie and Hank were staying home, and after what had happened the previous night, hopefully, Laurel had decided to take the day off, as well. Naturally, she was the first person I saw when I arrived. "Laurel, hi. Sorry about last... "

She made eye contact and then turned before I could say anything more. She went into a break room and had nowhere to go if I followed, but apologizing to Laurel was the last thing on my agenda. I needed to get to my desk.

"Dylan, you're here on a day we're closed?" Mason sipped a cup of coffee. "You should be home with Spring."

"I have a couple of things I need to get done."

"Then go at it. Don't let me stand in your way. Go at it and then get the hell out of here."

On any other day, I would have had the courtesy to shoot the bull, but I needed to get this done to make my life the way it used to be before Spring.

I closed the door to my office and dug through my desk drawer for some backup disks. Whenever I updated my phone or my computer, I cleaned out inactive contacts, but I kept all the old versions of my address book on disc. I found the disc from five years ago and slid it into my CD drive. I found the number for Ms. Diane Sommers, Challis Communications, Chicago and dialed.

"Good morning. My name is Dylan Hunter, and I'm with Mason, Brand and Partners, a P.R. firm in New York. I'm looking for, this is going to sound odd, someone who knows Diane Sommers. She used to work for you."

The operator transferred my call.

A woman answered the phone. "Madelyn Morris."

I told her who I was and confirmed that she knew Diane.

"How is Diane? I've been meaning to search for her on Facebook."

"Madelyn, I hate to be the person to tell you this, but there was an accident a few weeks ago. Diane was killed in a car wreck."

I waited as the woman on the other end drew in a quick breath and started to cry. I wished I hadn't broken the news to her so matter-of-factly.

In the picture on my desk, Diane looked so happy a perfect day in her new home with her daughter. It was a picture that would have certainly brought her smiles for years.

I heard a sniffle.

"How is Spring?"

"Spring is fine. That's why I'm calling, actually. I'm trying to locate any of Diane's relatives, or Spring's father..." I let my voice trail off. "I don't know Spring's birthday."

"She was born in April. Let me check."

I could hear her typing on the other end.

"April 6th. Chicago City Hospital. Diane... oh my God..." She cried again. "She didn't have any family that I know of. Her parents died before she started working here."

I drew a line through family on the list I had written down on the pad. Diane had no family.

She continued. "Diane was a loner."

"A loner? How could she... what about Spring's father?" I said.

"She really was. I was her best friend at work. She brought Spring to my place a lot. She helped me organize my apartment with some oriental thing."

"Feng Shui."

"Yeah, that's it. Diane liked to stay in with Spring. We would rent old movies together a lot."

I was surprised to hear Diane stayed at home and didn't go out that much. I thought that she had been a partier like me. When I met her, she seemed so sexual, so out there. It became clear in the next few minutes that Diane and Madelyn hadn't become good friends until after Diane had become pregnant. Therefore, she was a little sketchy on the details of Diane's life before then.

Madelyn recalled what Diane had told her about a "weird breakup" - her words, not Diane's - between Diane and some guy. Some guy? "I never met him, this was before I really got to know Diane. It didn't last long. It sounded pretty intense, though, Dylan. Sounded like for a short time this guy gave Diane the ego-boost she really needed. Could that be him?"

When Madelyn mentioned Diane's need for an ego-boost, I felt another disconnect. When I had met Diane, she seemed so confident, which was the main reason she turned me on. She was friendly and confident and different. But it was very possible that the relationship with Spring's father had changed her. I'd heard about things like that happening. I guess I even knew what it felt like at this point. I remembered her saying something about making love and what made it feel right, but that was so long ago.

"Diane had all this pent up emotion," Madelyn said. I could hear her tapping a pen or something against her desk. "After they broke up, Diane wasn't ready to recycle her feelings into a new relationship. I guess having Spring made it easier for her to simply not worry about that part of her life."

"Do you know the guy's name? Would his initials have been E.S.? Did Diane know anyone with the initials E.S.?"

She didn't think so.

No family, no real friends, no leads on Dad. "I'm so sorry you had to hear about it this way, this late. I didn't know who you were."

"Dylan, I'm glad I heard it from someone who loved her back. Thank you, and I'm really sorry. What's going to happen to Spring?"

"I'm still hoping to find a relative."

"I don't think you will. I would have known, if there was one."

I mindlessly doodled on the pad, while I gave this some thought. "Then I don't know," I said.

"Spring deserves the best you can give her. There's something special about that little girl. If my situation wasn't so dreadful, I'd volunteer to take her myself."

I didn't know what Madelyn's "situation" was, but I was taken with how she talked about Spring. This was someone who had been touched in a very real way by the two of them, and it was impossible for me not to be moved by how the news had affected her.

When I hung up the phone, I had to stretch my hand. At some time during the conversation, I had begun squeezing.

I checked my pad. Diane had given birth to Spring at Chicago City Hospital. There would be some records there. At least I knew Spring's birthday: April 6. Not much else had come from this latest bit of investigative work except for one other thing. Madelyn was right that Spring deserved a real home where she could grow and learn with the security of knowing that someone was standing behind her. She had the potential to be so many things if given the right environment.

I thought about the botched date with Laurel how much did that matter to me really? I thought about how Billie had shown up when Spring called. I knew that I could count on her to be around at least some of the time regardless of what she'd said to me. I thought about my situation at Mason Brand. Mason had made it clear in any number of ways that we would find a way to work things out.

I wouldn't be turning Spring over to the State of New York. For the first time, I truly understood that I didn't intend to turn her over to anyone.

When I first heard the knocking, I thought it was Jim checking to see if I would be watching the game. But it was a little after 9:00 am on a holiday, Jim didn't have his kids and he wouldn't be up for hours. Spring hadn't come out of her room yet, and I was still in bed. I decided just to lay there. The knocking had to stop eventually.

It didn't. By the time I grabbed my robe and reached the door, Spring had joined me with her robe on inside out and toting Mr. Jimmy by his furry arm. I could hear a familiar voice through the door.

"Open up, you lazy bums!" It was Billie. "Awake, awake! You lazy bums!"

"What are you doing?" I said. "Do you know what time it is? Because it feels really early to be up on a holiday."

"Exactly. Little girls should not sleep through the parade on Thanksgiving. Grande hazelnut latte for you, skim latte for me, and a tall white, grape juice for Miss Spring." She turned on the TV. "I'm embarrassed for you, Mr. Hunter. You should have taken Spring to see the parade."

"But..."

"No buts, Mr. Hunter."

The mention of a parade caught Spring's attention. "The what?"

"Parade!" Billie said, exuberantly. She picked up Spring and carried her like a bag of leaking trash to the couch. "Spring, Mr. Jimmy: the best seat in the house."

She turned to me. At first, I expected Billie to take away my latte for committing the Macy's faux pas, but she went easy on me.

"Mr. Hunter, lunch will be served at noon."

"You cooked?" Although it didn't come out right, I meant it in a nice way.

"No. Did I cook?" Billie returned to the hall picking up two large brown bags and setting them in the kitchen.

"Did I cook? Ha. I bought."

On the outside of the bags, it said Parker's."You went to Parker's for our lunch? Upper East Side Parker's?"

"Only the best. Besides, it's not just for any lunch. It's for Thanksgiving."

"What makes you think Spring and I didn't already have plans?"

"Do you have plans?"

"No, but we might have."

"Right," Billie said as she began to unpack.

"I should be the one buying the food after the other night and getting you over here under false pretenses." I made sure I shouted "false pretenses" toward the living room.

Kermit the Frog floated by on the TV and Spring barely moved.

"No use shouting," Billie said. "I brought the food because I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"For not telling you that I think you're doing a wonderful thing for Spring. Look at this place: it's a regular Guggenheim for kids and you're like Betty Stewart, Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart all rolled into one."

She was right. D-Man's bachelor pad had changed. The shelves were raised and the cool guy stuff had been relocated to my closet. And with paper lining many of the walls, I hoped Stephanie Eckleburg wasn't planning an impromptu bed check. The old bachelor pad had transformed into a different kind of playhouse: one with paper, crayons, toys, and at least a modicum of patience.

"Wow. That smells good." I thumbed through the bags. "Smells like turkey? I haven't had a roast turkey in a long time."

"What did you have last year for Thanksgiving?"

"Margaritas. I was in Key West."

"I like mar-ger-eets." Spring yelled out while a commercial played.

"No you don't," I yelled back, smiling. "You have never even had one."

"I did."

"When?"

"My mommy let me have one on my birthday."