Either way, this neighborhood- the Shell gas station, the old hardware store, the deli on the corner, the winos on the cracked sidewalk, the cut-throughs to Newark Airport, the tavern hidden near the old Pabst brewery- had become home.

When Olivia relocated from Virginia, he figured that she'd insist on moving to a better neighborhood. She was used to, he knew, if not better, definitely different. Olivia grew up in the small hick town of Northways, Virginia. When Olivia was a toddler, her mother ran off. Her father raised her alone.

On the elderly side for a new dad- her father was fifty-one when Olivia was born- Joshua Murray worked hard to make a home for him and his young daughter. Joshua was the town doctor of Northways- a general practitioner who worked on everything from six-year-old Mary Kate Johnson's appendix to Old Man Riteman's gout.

Joshua was, according to Olivia, a kind man, a gentle and wonderful father who doted on his only true relative. There was just the two of them, father and daughter, living in a brick town house off Main Street. Dad's medical office was attached, on the right side off the driveway. Most days, Olivia would sprint home after school so that she could help out with the patients. She would cheer up scared kids or gab with Cassie, the long-time receptionist/nurse. Cassie was a "sorta nanny" too. If her father was too busy, Cassie cooked dinner and helped Olivia with her homework. For her part, Olivia worshipped her father. Her dream- and yes, she thought now that it sounded hopelessly naïve- had been to become a doctor and work with her father.

But during Olivia's senior year of college, everything changed. Her father, the only family Olivia had ever known, died of lung cancer. The news took Olivia's legs out from under her. The old ambition of going to medical school- following in her father's footsteps- died with him.