Diane thanked Harry's mom again as she left the room, and then looked out the window. She could just see the front of the greenhouse next to an enormous maple tree, but no sign of Harry. Leo was sitting in rapt attention near the greenhouse door, though, so she knew he must still be inside.

If he did have a son, Diane figured there must be a picture of him somewhere among the vast collection of photo's on Mrs. Denby's walls. So, she began to scan them all, searching for a clue to Miguel's identity. She counted four older sisters, and a whole pack of nieces and nephews among the faces, several grandparents and a few poignant shots of Harry's father.

Then downstairs, on top of the piano, she found one beautifully framed photo of a little boy. He had an absolutely engaging expression, but the clothes and style of the picture gave no clue as to the year it was taken. It sat beside a small replica of a sculpture of the Mother Mary holding the body of Christ on her lap as she wept. Diane read the inscription at the bottom, "Pieta" by Michael Angelo.

There was a red glass votive next to the frame, and the whole scene reminded Diane of the glowing shrine at the cathedral that she used to visit with her grandmother. They would light a candle together and pray for Diane's father every Saturday afternoon.

Mrs. Denby saw Diane staring at the picture of Harry and quietly went to her side. "He's had a real rough patch these past five years. Harry's always been a bit of a prodigal, but I didn't know if he was going to make it through this...this trial he's been under. I keep this here to remind me of what a happy little boy he used to be."

She struck a match and reverently lighted the candle. "And I pray for him... every day."

Diane was touched by her devotion to Harry and wondered if all those prayers had kept him alive and well during this past month. He'd had a gun pointed at his head twice that she knew of and managed to come out with only the scratches she gave him.

"Shhhh, now be nice, or I'll pop ya one I swear." Both women turned in the direction of Harry's voice as he entered the room wearing a large, gray parrot on his shoulder. "Diane, I'd like you to meet Miguel. An old pal, and a bird of refined taste in classic television drama."

Miguel bobbed rhythmically on Harry's shoulder and stretched his wings. Diane's mouth hung open as she looked at both of them. Somehow it made poetic sense that Harry should have a pet that was temperamental and talked too much.

She took a step closer to Harry and offered her arm to Miguel.

To everyone's delight, he hopped on to it, cocked his head and said, "Book 'em, Danno."