Gabriel did not manage to leave town before two in the afternoon, and it was dark when he finally made it to the Big Apple. He first dropped by Emma’s apartment but she was not there so he decided to try her office.

He soon found himself in a shiny elevator, surrounded by copper and mirrors, climbing up the floors of a very high standing building on Fifth Avenue, wondering what the hell he was going to tell his friend. The doors of the elevator opened and he exited, stepping onto a thick dark carpet, looking around to find his way. He had come there with Emma once, and knew more or less his way around. Most of the employees were heading the other way at that time and he found himself in a large room that looked at lot like the reception. A small girl with long blonde hair and a gray suit was sitting behind a large desk. As Gabriel was approaching – and he was pretty sure she saw him – she got up and picked up her bag under the desk.

"Excuse me?" the Angel said softly as the girl was doing her best to ignore him. He glanced quickly at the large clock hung on the wall: almost six o’clock. She probably was desperate to go home – especially on a Friday night. She hardly glanced at him and emitted what resembled a disinterested groan. She was busy getting something on the floor.

"Sorry," Gabriel said again. "I’m looking for Emma Riordan?"

The receptionist pulled a large handbag from underneath the desk and set it on the desk top with a thump. "You got an appointment?" she mumbled, rummaging through her bag.

"Er, no. I’m a friend of hers. I’m in town this weekend and I was wondering if…"

She finally raised her eyes to him. "She’s in a meeting," she said, interrupting him, getting up. Standing, she was still a good head shorter than him, but there was so much bad mood condensed in this young woman that he instinctively stepped back. The Angel might have been tough and climbed trees, he might have played football in college and was still a very good skier, but years of living around his mother, Emma and Lucy had taught him when to back off in front of female adversity.

"They’ll be in there for a while," the receptionist added reaching for her coat on her chair. She slipped the coat on, grabbed her handbag and stepped around the desk. She seemed to be about to leave without another glance at the Angel when she turned back to him and then distractedly pointed to the leather couch against the wall. "You can wait if you want."

Gabriel felt it might be irrelevant to thank her for her trouble, since she did not seem to go through any at all, but years of tight education got the better of him. "Thank you," he said, as she passed him and exited towards the elevator.

He soon found himself alone in the reception area. He stood a moment, looking around. A large hallway was leading back to the elevator and two more on each side of the reception desk to the rest of the offices. After a short hesitation, he sat down on the leather couch. The surface was softer than he expected and he sank a bit in it. A little uncomfortable, he nevertheless settled the best he could in the couch, legs slightly spread, his forearms leaning on his knees.

A few more people walked passed him, mostly towards the exit, and as he watched their feet go by, he started thinking he was getting really hot. He had kept his coat on and now found himself unwilling to take it off, fearing to look like a bumpkin. He sighed and leaned a bit forward, looking down at his snow boots. "You are a bumpkin," he mumbled, silently grateful for the snow – at least he didn’t have any mud on his soles. He glanced up again and caught his reflection in the large dark windows on the other side of the room. He too could have worked in a nice office in Manhattan and wear a suit and fancy shoes to work. He had been a brilliant student in college, not only in arts and French studies, but also in science and business classes. He could have chosen any career he wanted.

He chose to go to France, Germany and Italy to study the arts while Emma got her first job at the Boston Globe. He chose to come back to Massachusetts and work with his father for a year or two while Emma left to go to New York City. He chose to take over his father’s business after his death. "Live your life, Gabriel," Julia had told him, painfully aware of how much like Jack he looked in his working gear. That was the life he had chosen. He had chosen the trees and the flowers and the painting of the house every other year, the pain in his back and shoulders almost every night, the splinters and the bruises, and the big house and the snow and the cat and the dog. He had chosen to wear snow boots and a thick snow coat and looking like a bumpkin in a fancy Manhattan office.

With a sigh, he passed his hand in his short dark locks and started to question the sanity of his presence there. What would he tell Emma? Would she take him seriously? Would she even listen? Trying to figure out what he would tell his friend if he ever got the chance to see her, he realized his palms were starting to sweat.

There was more movement on his left and he didn’t really pay any attention to it until someone came to stand right in front of him. Distracted, he shifted his glance and his gaze fell upon a short man in his early forties, with reddish hair and freckles all over his round face. He wore a nice dark designer suit and looked at Gabriel with an intrigued look on his face and a little smile on his lips. "Gabriel Paradise, right?" he said after a couple of seconds spent examining the visitor.

Gabriel stared up at him for a couple of long seconds, still sitting on the couch then answered, trying to remember where he had seen the man before. "Yes. Yes, I am."

The other man smiled and held out his hand to him. "I thought as much," he said cheerfully as Gabriel shook his hand, and got up a bit awkwardly. Seeing his embarrassment, the other man came to his rescue with a short laugh. "I’m Phil Harvey. We met last fall when you came over to visit Emma. It’s nice to see you again. She didn’t mention you’d be in town."

Gabriel suddenly remembered the man. He was actually Emma’s boss but had always, at least in his presence, behaved more like a co-worker to the young woman. "You too," he answered, a little more comfortable now that he had found a familiar face. "And no, she didn’t, because I didn’t really plan this trip. I’ve just arrived and I thought I could say hi… but I was told she was in a meeting."

Phil frowned and instinctively checked the time. "A meeting?" A short pause, then. "Oh, she must be in with James for the weekly ‘wrap up’, " he said, mimicking quotation marks with his fingers.

"Are you being ironic?" Gabriel said, deadpanned.

Phil laughed. "Are you implying I have a sense of humor?… Come on," he added, pulling the Angel by the arm. "Let’s go rescue her."

The Angel followed him in one of the large hallways and watched Phil poke his head through a couple of doors before he found the right room. A young dark-haired skinny guy in his early thirties was talking to a couple of other people, namely Emma and another young woman both looking equally bored. They were all sitting around a large conference table, where a few books had been spread. The blond woman sitting next to Emma was taking a few notes on a pad, but Emma was not even pretending to be listening and was distractedly chewing on the end of her pen, staring into the void.

Phil stepped into the room, like a mini energy tornado. "Howdy," he said with a silly accent. "Sorry to interrupt you guys, but I take it you’re almost finished."

The two women turned grateful eyes onto him and James glanced annoyingly at him but refrained from snapping at his boss. "Well, just a couple…" he started to say, but Phil interrupted him again. "Good!" he said. "I wanted to talk to you about Peterson’s new contract…" He stepped forward a little more and then turned to Emma. "Oh, and Emma, look who I found…" And with a quick glance back over his shoulder, he motioned the Angel to come in.

So Gabriel came in and was immediately pinned down by Emma’s incredulous stare. He thought she looked terrible. He could not help notice how pale her skin was and how tired she looked. As he saw the black circles under her eyes, he felt a lump forming in his throat and started to wonder what on Earth he was possibly going to tell her. Nevertheless, he smiled gently and stopped just a few paces from her.

In the room, Phil was talking loudly to James who was listening obediently. The young woman who had been sitting next to Emma got up and walked out with a little grateful smile to the Angel. And Emma kept staring at the Angel, not quite believing what she was seeing.

"Hi, Emma," he said, softly.

After a few more seconds that he found extremely long, she finally got up from her chair, walked around the table and stood before him a split second before hugging him. Relieved, he hugged her back tenderly, trying to communicate as much comfort and love as he could in this contact. Against her will, she held on tight, part of her not wanting to let go, knowing the power her Angel had over nightmares, bad days and heartaches. But part of her was still furious, at him for not telling her, at the world for carrying on spinning while her life was in shambles.

Reluctantly she tore herself away from his embrace and looked up to him. He hadn’t changed since the last time she saw him, late in the summer when she had visited her folks with her fiancé. He was just a little paler. "Phil?" she asked, not breaking eye contact with Gabriel’s gentle stare. "You still need me tonight?"

Phil was supposedly engrossed in a serious conversation with James but he immediately answered her with a little smile. "Nope, you’re free to go. Nice seeing you again, Gabriel."

"Same here," the Angel replied before following Emma out of the room. She walked down the hallway and entered another, smaller room that was her office. She walked around her desk on which sat a PC among piles of papers, manuscripts and books, and sat down in a chair with a sigh. The Angel was still on the doorstep, looking inside, as if he did not dare come in.

She looked up to him, and pursed up her lips. "So – you came." A pause. "I can’t believe you came."

He shrugged. "I was worried about you, Emma."

"So you came to check up on me."

"You make it sound so bad," he said with a sigh.

There was a short silence in which she looked down, and swiveled her chair a bit, both her hands firmly gripping the arms of the chair. "My mother sent you?"

Gabriel stepped into the office and sighed. "No," he simply said. "But I’ve been talking with her a lot these past few days…"

Her eyes shot back up at him. "I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble", she said, making very clear she did not mean a word of it.

He sighed again and shook briefly his head but chose not to answer. "Emma, I just want to make sure that you’re ok."

"Well, I am. I’m perfectly fine. Can’t you tell?"

"Not really, no," he answered, ignoring her sarcasm. He took a deep breath. "Did you tell your parents?"

She laughed a short humorless laugh. "That he dumped me? Or that he doesn’t like girls?… I thought you’d be happy to tell Mom. She’ll be thrilled. She’ll probably find a way to blame it on me, though."

He did not answer, knowing that she was probably right about that. And there was nothing he could say that would make her feel better.

After a long silence, she sighed heavily. "I called my Dad this morning and told him… that the wedding was off… and why it was off. All I have to do now is not answer my phone for the next couple of years and I should be able to avoid Mother." She pinned him with a harsh stare and shook her head. "I can’t believe you didn’t tell me…"

He threw his hands in the air, frustrated. "Tell you what? ‘Sorry Emma, I think he’s very nice that guy you want to marry but there might be a tiny chance he’s gay. You might want to look into that.’"

"Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Angel."

"I do not enjoy this, Emma, not matter what you think." His voice was shaking a bit and she saw the hurt in his eyes.

She dropped her hands onto her knees and looked down at them. "I know," she said softly.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence, and then Gabriel stepped forward and came to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk, facing her. "How did your Dad take it?" he asked with genuine concern.

She shrugged and picked a pen on the desktop, still avoiding his eyes. "He liked him," she simply said. And that, Gabriel knew it was true. Which made things even more painful for everyone.

"Mom was in Boston at her sister’s for the week. She’ll be back on Monday. I should be safe until then. Dad – Dad said he would talk to her…"

And then she fell quiet, hoping he would understand she no longer wished to discuss the matter. He did. Kind of. "I – I’m going to visit Mom soon, probably before the end of the month." A pause. "What do you say you join me? That’ll be fun…" he added, trying to sound enthusiastic.

As expected tough, she shook her head and declined. "I can’t… Too much work. Not a good time for a holiday."

He sighed, a bit annoyed. "Oh, come on. Surely Phil will give you a few days off if you asked him. I’m sure he’d understand…"

"Understand what? That I need time off?" she spat back.

He took a deep breath and did not look away. "Actually, yes."

"Piss off, Gabriel. I’m fine."

"Obviously," he replied curtly. There was a longer silence during which they avoided each other’s glare. When the silence became unbearable, there was a quick knock on the door and Phil popped his head in though the open door. "Anybody up for Chinese? I’m starved."

Emma immediately took the opportunity to escape from what was becoming an awkward and unnerving conversation. "Sure. Sounds great. I’m done for today, anyway." And that remark, Gabriel knew, was as much for him as it was about her job. He had done his part, and she did not need him. The message was clear enough.

"Great. I managed to send James home without work. Didn’t think it was feasible… Gabriel," Phil said, stepping next to the Angel, "Chinese ok with you too?"

Gabriel put both his hands on the chair arms and slowly rose to his feet, suddenly feeling very tired. The idea of driving back to Massachusetts in Friday night traffic was not overly thrilling to him. He turned to Phil with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, Phil, I gotta run. I only stopped to say hello and see how Emma was doing."

Phil frowned. "You’re driving back to Mass now?"

"Yeah – I’m expected tonight," he lied, perfectly aware that Emma knew he was lying. He too could play that game.

Ten minutes later, they were both in the large building main entrance, waiting for Phil who had had an important phone call as they were leaving and told them he would meet them downstairs. Outside, the night was cold and windy, the sidewalks wet and slippery. Gabriel zipped up his coat and dug out his gloves from his pocket. "Guess I’d better go," he mumbled with a quick glance at Emma.

She sighed. "Gab-"

He lifted his gloved hand. "That’s ok, Emma. I came to check how you were doing, you’re doing fine, I’m going. It’s that simple."

She looked down and nodded. "Okay," she said very softly. Her hands in her coat pockets, she watched the Angel getting ready to go. "Bye, then," she said, looking up and trying this one last time to be brave.

Gabriel stared at her for a couple of seconds, then stepped up to her and enfolded her in a heartfelt hug. "Bye, Emma. You take care of yourself," he said quietly in her ear. "And if you ever decide to take some tome off, you know you’ll be always welcome at home… OK?"

She did not answer but he felt her nod. He let her go and stepped back. He had a tiny crooked grin on his face, and soon turned around and passed the large revolving door, out and into the cold night. He did not hear the ‘Thank you’ she whispered before he left.

Gabriel parked the Explorer in the driveway of the Riordans a few hours later. It had been snowing for most of his trip back, but the sky has cleared by the time he got to Massachusetts and the snow-covered landscape was once more glowing under the moonlight. He turned off the engine and let out a long sigh. He rubbed his achy eyes and then looked up in the headlights to the car parked ahead. Emma’s mother was out of town and that was a good thing. He did not feel up to facing her tonight.

He got out of the truck and the cold immediately struck him. His muffled crunchy footsteps in the snow was the only sound he heard as he went around the house he knew so well and to the backdoor. A quick glance inside and he pulled the storm screen, then pushed the kitchen door open and stepped in. "Hello?" he called, not really hoping to be answered.

He quickly shut the door behind him not to let the cold into the house, and then proceeded to remove his boots. A minute later, he was strolling in his socks through the house, knowing the way by heart and headed to the basement where, next to the comfort and the reassuring rolling of the washing machine and the tumble dryer, Patrick Riordan had set up his study.

The wooden stairs creaked a bit under Gabriel’s weight as he climbed down to the basement, and called again to announce his presence. "Mr. Riordan?"

"Down here," came the quiet answer.

Gabriel reached the bottom of the stairs and immediately spotted Emma’s father sitting at his desk, facing him from the other side of the room. Patrick Riordan was a tall man in his early sixties, with red hair that still refused to turn white and a freckled long face. He looked up from his computer screen and his intelligent blue eyes met his visitor’s. "Well, hello, Gabriel," he said gently, his voice a little tired, while getting up from his old leather chair.

"Hey, Patrick," said Gabriel with a smile. "Sorry to bother you so late."

Patrick chuckled. "Don’t worry… Roberta’s at her sister’s. You don’t bother me. Always nice to see you." As he spoke, he went around his desk and then to the small refrigerator that was sitting in the corner of the large room, next to the washing machine and the dryer. He opened it and got out a couple of cold beers. "I was just… fiddling with the computer… found some nice fishing sites… your daddy would have loved that," he said with a wink, and then threw a can of beer to the young man.

Gabriel caught it and removed his heavy coat before opening the can. Then he sat down in the old couch that had been retired to the basement after years of loyal service in the main room. A few feet away sat the pool table Patrick had ragged from upstairs after his wife threatened to throw it away. Since both his daughters had left home, he didn’t play very often. Before, his favorite pool partner had been Peter Paradise who used to come to his house and play a few games and drink a few beers and talk about fishing when Roberta was out of town. Otherwise, then still would play the few games and have the few beers and talk about fishing – they just to it at their local bar.

"It’s on nights like these that I miss Pete the most," Patrick said, shaking his head slowly. He didn’t really need to explain more. Gabriel knew what he meant. There was a silence during which they sipped their beer in a comfortable communion. The larger boiler hidden in an extra room of the basement suddenly shut down and Gabriel thought it must have been midnight already.

In the silence that followed, Patrick went to sit next to his visitor. "So – I hear you’ve been to see Emma?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. "How do you know?"

Mr. Riordan shrugged his shoulders. "I bumped into Maggie Stewart at the post office," he said simply.

Gabriel’s questioning look remained unchanged. Patrick lifted his hand in the air, palm upward, in an obvious gesture. "Maggie Stewart bumped into Lucy at the Shop’n Save."

"I see," the young man commented briefly. And then he had another sip of beer, trying to think what to say, knowing what the next question would be. After all, that was the main reason he had stopped here on his way home.

"So," Patrick said again, without even trying to hide the worry in his voice. "How is she?"

Gabriel pursed up his lips and nodded slowly. "She’s doing all right. She’s ok, really."

There was a long silence, and Gabriel finally got the courage to turn to his best friend’s father and look at him in the eye.

"How is she?" Patrick asked again in a firm voice and Gabriel had the sudden feeling to be ten again, when Mr. Riordan would catch him and Emma playing with his favorite and treasured fishing poles. He sighed.

"She will be all right," he said, looking away again. "She’ll just need a little time… I – I suggested her to come home and spend some time up here…"

Patrick snorted. "Here? With her mother around driving her crazy? I don’t see that happening any time soon…" He shook his head and then let out a long sigh. "I liked him, you know," he said, looking down, and Gabriel did not need to ask whom he was talking about.

The young man nodded. "I know. Me too."

That got him a startled look from the older man. Gabriel shrugged. "I’ve always thought he was not right for her, and for that, I distrusted him. But I never said he wasn’t a nice guy…" It was a pretty lame explanation, but deep down, it was almost true. Fabrice was a nice, smart and funny young man who could have been his friend if he had not been engaged to Emma. Jealousy or premonition, he was not sure what to call it, but in any case, it was too late now.

"Yeah, well, I know that probably makes me a bigot, but him being gay and all, that doesn’t make it easier, you know," Patrick said angrily and the hurt in his eyes was such that Gabriel knew he had to find a way to ease the pain that not only Emma was feeling.

"It’s for the best, Patrick. It’s better she knows now," he said gently.

Mr. Riordan emptied his can of beer. "He still lied and cheated on her, and because it was with a boy should make it ok? Well, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t."

And to that, Gabriel had no good answer.

When he finally got back home it was close to 1am. He had talked some more with Patrick Riordan who, on top of worrying for his daughter, was worried about how to break the news to his wife. Gabriel would have offered to tell her, but Emma’s mother was not a person whose wrath and hysteria he felt ready to face, even to help a friend.

He parked the car outside, since Lucy’s station wagon was blocking the access to the garage and then went around the house to the kitchen door.

Inside, only a few lights were on. The kitchen’s, but only the one above the sink, probably so that he would not trip on something in the dark if he decided to come home on the same night, and the ones in the lounge. He came through the back door, in the said kitchen and quickly got rid of shoes and coat before padding to the lounge. He could hear the sound of television from the other room. Lucy was obviously still up.

But not awake. He came into the large and warm room and spotted her curled up on the couch, her head resting on a couple of soft cushions. In the fireplace, the last embers of what must have been a roaring fire were finishing to consume. And in front of the fireplace, cat and dog were resting in their favorite spot, not at all disturbed by the young man’s arrival. Gabriel glanced at the television screen were Bruce Willis was fighting an armed band of terrorists amidst very noisy explosions and gun shots.

He reached for the remote control on the coffee table and switched off the television. As expected, that woke up Lucy. She stirred a bit and opened her eyes, a little disoriented.

Gabriel knelt next to her on the thick rug and smiled. "Hey…"

She lifted her right hand and rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Gabriel?… What time is it?"

He checked his watch. "A little after one."

"You drove back tonight?" she asked, realizing how silly this question sounded. He nodded and she blinked a couple of times, then snuggled again on the couch, slipping her hand under the cushions. "Must have fallen asleep..." she said simply with a little sheepish smile.

He smiled too. "Must have..."

She held his gaze for a couple of seconds then spoke again. "You've just come back?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. I was with Patrick," he said simply, knowing that it would be clear enough to her.

And indeed, it was. She nodded and took an audible breath. Her next question was not related though. "Did you have dinner?" she asked softly.

He smiled again. "Yeah. Had a burger on the highway. You didn't wait for me, did you?" he asked, a little concerned, thinking he should have called her before leaving New York.

"Nah. The rats and I finished the stew that was in the freezer... managed to save almost everything else. Had to throw away the cookie dough ice cream though. And we shall not speak about this tragedy ever again."

Gabriel chuckled softly and promised himself to go and buy some more the next day.

"How is he doing?" Lucy asked seemingly out of the blue, but her question did not surprise him.

He shrugged, his eyes saddened. "Better than one would expect."

There was a short silence, then Lucy asked: "How is she doing?"

This time, he let out a strong sigh and shook his head slowly. "Not as good as she would like to pretend."

Lucy looked down and did not comment. She heard him sigh again and then she looked up as he was glancing at the cat and dog. "You need me to take Trip out?" he asked before turning back to her.

"No, already done. Thanks though."

"The truck is blocking the way," he said. "You want me to move it?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No way. I ain’t going anywhere in this friggin’ cold."

He smiled, approving of a wise decision. "Ok, then," he said. "I’m going to bed. Thanks for watching the house for me."

"No problem."

"Good night, Luce." He leaned towards her and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Then he got up and strolled out of the living room. A couple of seconds later, she heard him climbing the stairs.

"Night, Angel," she said after he was gone.

Three weeks later, Lucy picked up the phone and was surprised to found Emma on the other end of the line. Of course, Emma wanted to speak to Gabriel. Lucy informed her that the Angel was down in Florida, visiting his mother in the Keys – as he had told Emma he was planning to do.

"You want the number?" Lucy asked.

That, of course, annoyed Emma tremendously. "I have the number, Lucy, thank you," she answered briskly – she did not want to have to remind Lucy that she actually went to visit Julia there.

"OK," Lucy said. "You might want to wait a bit before calling. I talked to Gabriel and Julia last night and they said they might be going diving today…"

Emma made a face that could not be seen. "Oh, right. Thanks for the tip, Luce. In case you talk to him before I do…" She smile smugly, trying to sound casual. "Could you tell him I’ve decided to take him up on his offer."

"His offer?"

"Of coming up and stay with him for a while."

There was a short silence, but Lucy did not bite. "OK. Sure, Em. I’ll tell him."

And that was basically how the conversation ended.

The phone rang on the same day, probably only a few minutes later, but this time in a nice wooden house on Key West. It was the 29th of February, and it was as sunny in Florida has it was in Massachusetts. The only difference being that the sun actually felt warm on the skin when you stood in its light.

Julia Paradise picked up the phone in the kitchen, where she was making a large seafood salad. "Paradise," she said, out of an old habit, a habit they had all taken in all the years spent in Peter Paradise’s house. Then she popped a shrimp into her mouth.

"Hey, Julia," Emma said and she heard the little gasp on the other end of the line. She could not help the smile that spread on her face.

"Hello, sweetheart. It is nice to hear from you, you know," Julia said, smiling too. She had heard from her son of the whole ordeal and had had to refrain herself from calling the young woman, wishing to respect her privacy. That had been difficult. Even now, she hesitated before asking her next question. "How are you, baby?"

Julia had known Emma since the girl was small enough to escape between Peter’s legs when he would play with her and Gabriel and pretend to chase them through the garden. She had dried her tears and fixed her scraped knees – for some reasons, Emma always managed to scrap her knees more than her own son. She had always had tender words for her, no matter what. Emma’s mother rarely called her Sweetheart or Baby anymore, and Emma realized she was not expecting it from her mother. But she did from Julia.

"Not too bad," she said, trying to be truthful without sounding pathetic.

Ten minutes later, Julia exited the house and walked barefoot onto the back porch of the house. Outside, without the air conditioning, humid heat welcomed her onto the patio. Nibbling onto a piece of olive bread, she looked up towards the garden and spotted her son, quietly floating on his back in the pool, surrounded by the soft lap of the water, and the not so soft cries of the seagulls in the sky.

"Lunch ready?" he said, hearing his mother approach, his eyes closed.

She smiled wryly. "Almost. You’re really used to getting your dinner ready when you want it, Mister, dontcha?"

"And your point is?"

She shook her head and did not answer. "I was on the phone…" – and seeing that Gabriel did not react to the news otherwise than by slowly flapping his arms in the water, she went on. "First Emma, and then Lucy."

He kept his eyes closed and smiled. "You’re very popular, mother."

"Actually, it would seem that you are… Emma was calling to say that she has decided to take you up on your offer of coming and stay with you for a while…"

Gabriel’s smile broadened. "And Luce?"

Julia frowned, seemingly a little confused by the two conversations she had just had on the phone. "She called to say that Emma called her and asked her to let you know that she had decided to take you up on your offer…" A pause. "Actually, Emma mentioned she might be calling."

Gabriel turned into an upward position and looked up to his mother with a questioning expression, the water dripping on his face. Julia raised her hands. "Hey, I’m just delivering the message here."

Gabriel cocked his head to one side and then shrugged. Then he went back to his floating, with a satisfied smug on his face. Julia looked at him a few seconds, dying to ask him what exactly he was planning on doing with these two women in his house and wondering if he had even thought this whole thing clearly, then decided to wait a bit before started questioning him. So with a shrug, she turned back to the house. She heard him speak and his voice, intonation and even the words themselves were so much like Peter’s that she had to close her eyes and remind her it wasn’t him.

She turned around and passed a slightly shaky hand in her short hair. "What was that, honey?" she asked.

Gabriel smiled, oblivious of the pain he had just caused his mother. "I said: we’re gonna need more paint.

Continued in Part 5.