Angel’s smile vanished.

“I explained that the show won’t be over for an hour,” Bill said, “but the man wouldn’t listen to reason. I’ll tell him to – ”

“No,” Angel interrupted. “If it’s about Derry, I’ll take the call.”

“I thought so. Derry’s the only male you care about.”

Angel gave Bill a swift, blue-green look, sensing the beginning of another old argument.

“Derry is like a brother to me,” she said quietly. “Nothing more. And certainly nothing less.”

Bill sighed and muttered to Angel’s retreating back, “Yeah, and he’s one handsome kid who isn’t related to you in any way.”

Angel heard and was momentarily surprised. She didn’t think of Derry as physically handsome, although she had to agree that he was. Derry’s blond looks and muscular body had turned more than one feminine head.

But when Angel thought of Derry, she thought of his dedication to becoming a doctor, the ruthless discipline that kept him studying even in the summer, his anguish and rage the night he had dragged her clear of the wrecked car.

If anyone, even an utter stranger, wanted to talk to her about Derry, Angel would listen.

She walked into Bill’s private office, punched in the lighted button on the front of the phone, and put the receiver to her ear.

“Mr. Hawkins?” she said quietly, but her question and hesitation were clear. “I’m afraid I don’t remember you.”

“I suppose Derry spoke of me as Hawk,” said the deep male voice at the other end of the line.

“Oh… that Mr. Hawkins. Derry’s letters have been full of ‘Hawk this’ and ‘Hawk that’ for weeks. I didn’t recognize your full name.”

There was a pause.

Angel wondered for a moment if she had insulted him. She hoped not. Hawk was crucial to Derry’s hopes of becoming a doctor.

“Derry said you’d be up to your blond curls in admirers,” Hawk said impatiently, “but that you’d meet me in the Golden Stein if he asked you to.”