Hank woke in the morning to a jarringly cold and empty bed. He sat up quick enough to dizzy his head as his eyes searched around the dim room for Josie. The sun was peeking through the shade, but not enough to indicate he had slept in late. His eyes settled on a mug on the nightstand, still warm to the touch. He picked it up and took a long slow sip of the milk-infused tea, allowing it to calm him while attempting to ignore the bubbling guilt. Hank knew he made it difficult to care for him; he had been cast as the caretaker for so long and couldn't fault Josie for stealing opportunities to care for him, but he wished he didn't make it difficult. He finished his tea with a resolution to be more transparent.

Hank found himself stalled in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Josie glide easily around fixing breakfast. She absently hummed a melody reminiscent of the crickets and grasshoppers. Eggs and bacon joined the standard breakfast of tea and toast, pulling a grumble from his stomach.

"Morning," he finally announced himself as he slipped into an island chair, setting his mug down in front of him.

"Morning." Josie glided around the island to give him a warm kiss on his cheek.

Hank caught her with one of his paw-like hands before she slipped away from him and pulled her in for a longer kiss. She let out a giggle when they parted and returned to her work.

"You want more tea?" Her focused on breakfast distracted her words.

"Yes, please," Hank couldn't take his eyes off her as she spun with purpose around the kitchen. She had such an ease about her intent that he envied. "May I help?" He knew her answer before asking.

"No, you may not," she gave him a pleased smile as she pushed his tea back over to him, along with the milk. Moments later, she pushed a plate across to him.

"Shouldn't we wait for Clara?" He felt the obligation despite the desire to dig in.

"No need; tea and toast for us ladies. I made that for you."

Without hesitation, he dug in, to Josie's delight. Between bites, he added, "you aren't hungry?"

"Well, I eat at regular intervals," she teased. "Pie is not a meal even if the accompanying coffee is as thick as pea soup." She picked at a piece of toast while he ate. The silence wasn't stifling; it was reassuring.

"I should get going," he mumbled reluctantly. Hank wanted nothing more than to stay with Josie.

"Have a good day," Josie's tone was sickly sweet, revealing her rambling thoughts of his lunch plans. Hank wanted to reassure her, but all he could offer with a lingering kiss.

Hank was grateful for the truck to keep him busy. He spent most of the morning cleaning up the engine. Like so many things around town, neglect marred the truck; but it was easy to see the cracks needing repair with a bit of cleaning. There was satisfaction in the work that built up Hank's resolve.

Hank hadn't been to his father's office since he helped Peter pack it up all those years ago. Peter had never taken on another partner. Hank always attributed it to a sense of loyalty, but now he couldn't help but think guilt had a more massive hand at play. Hank spent the morning shoring himself up for the visit, expecting the rush when he saw the window overlooking Main Street. Henry spent hours mulling angles over in the window. Hank would often find his father at the window when he stopped in on various errands for Clara.

The clamminess of Hank's hand made the heavy door handle slip in his grip. The old building's embedded staleness was the same as was the scuffing of the velvety rug beneath his feet. Hank slid his hat from his head to avoid the click of Nancy's tongue if he were to wear it deeper inside and into her view. In a way, it was a relief, as his hands had an outlet for his nerves.

"Hello, Nancy," Hank spoke quietly to avoid startling her as she had her back to him digging through a file cabinet.

Her eyes grew wide when she turned and lifted them to his face. For a moment, he feared she would holler in fear. "My goodness, Hank Carroll, if you don't look just like your father." Hank bowed his head to hide the flush that was creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. "Well, come here," she added as she stood and moved around the desk, spreading her arms for a hug.

He complied rigidly, preparing for a slap to the back of his head for some infraction he had missed. No tap occurred, just a kindhearted hug. Perhaps his perceptions of youth had been mistaken. He felt as though he should say something given the standard volley of conversation, but his words caught in the back of his throat, and Hank feared he would choke if he were to force them.

"It's been too long," she warmly added as she settled back into her chair and gestured to the seat across from her.

Hank dropped to the chair, slumping for only a moment before straightening his back with more rigidity, as she had constantly prodded. Nancy rewarded him with a tender smile at the proof that her handiwork had stuck.

"I'm sorry I have not stopped in. This office had a lot of memories." It surprised Hank at how even his voice came.

"No need to apologize." She tossed her hands in the air as if to flick off a physical manifestation of the neglect. "How have you been?" Her eyes widened for a moment as she spoke, as though her hope for a happy ending was hanging on the balance.

"Well," a bit of relief spread through Nancy and extended to Hank. "I don't want to intrude on your lunch."

"Oh, nonsense," she pushed her wilted salad further away from her. "Your father would have my neck if he saw that sad display. If it wasn't meat and bread, it wasn't lunch." Hank gave her a tempered smile, mainly at the fond tone she used to speak of Henry. "It's been too long since I've spent my lunch hour with a Carroll man," she added before her movements stuttered, "unless you are here to see Peter."

"No, no. I am here to see you."

Another wave of relief seemed to wash over her again. "He's not in today. Been working from home a bit more over the past couple of weeks," she absently spoke as she shifted a few papers.

"I believe he has had a touch of what's been going around," Hank offered, receiving a curt nod from Nancy.

"So, tell me about you. I heard you opened your own garage."

"Yes, just a couple bays, but it pays the bills."

"Your father loved working on cars. He would be very envious." Her eyes gleamed with a spark of humor. "Any lady in your life?"

Hank bit back a broader smile to maintain a level of modesty. "Yes, I have been seeing someone. It's new, but Clara likes her."

"Oh, how is Clara?" The warmth that Nancy had for Clara felt surprising. Perhaps it was just the haughty ladies of his neighborhood who had shared a level of undeserved disdain for Clara.

"Well, a few troubles with her knees, but as opinionated as ever."

"The way a mother should be," Nancy sat back, lost in thought for a moment.

"How is George?" Hank was thankful that he recalled her husband's name.

"Retired and driving me crazy. I think the only reason I am still working is to stay away from him." She let a small chuckle escape her before slipping into a more serious state. "Why are you here, Hank?"

This was the all-business Nancy that Hank knew. "You know me too well," he murmured.

"Well, if your mind is as similar to your father's as your appearance, then I know there is a reason behind your visit, and it's not social."

"Well, Clara has been going through old pictures, and it made me realize how little I knew about my father's days outside the house." It was not wholly inaccurate.

"Well, he got here on time, unlike Peter." Nancy rolled her eyes with years of pent-up frustration.

"He was a hard worker; always wanted to do right by people, whether or not they could pay. He'd turn no one with a problem away," Nancy was sinking into her memories. Hank got the sense that she had almost forgotten he was there.

"Did you have lunch with him often?" Hank let his eyes flicker to the wilted salad as though it were an organic question.

"Every day. I haven't had a roast beef on rye with spicy mustard in 20-years. It never feels right if he isn't here to eat half." There was an unmistakable pooling in her eyes. Hank diverted his gaze from the tender moment. Nancy's voice cracked when she spoke again. "It was marvelous seeing you, Hank, but I really should get back to it."

"Of course. I'm sorry to intrude," Hank rose with a slight nod to his head.

"Don't be silly; you are more than welcome anytime."

"Next time, I will come armed with a sandwich to split," Hank gave her a grateful smile as he spoke.

The pooling spilled to a lone tear as her voice warbled; "that would be delightful."

Hank slipped around the corner with a last nod and let out the tight breath he couldn't release in Nancy's presence. His mind swirled with the relief that there were no mysterious lunch dates, but anxiety grew as he was one move closer to acknowledging that Peter was not the friend he had been portraying.