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3
Dan arrived early at the following Thursday’s We Study Sobriety meeting. If Doctor John had decided
to trash his marriage and possibly his career over a missing seven-hundred-dollar watch (alkies
routinely trashed marriages and careers over far less), someone would have to make the coffee. But
John was there. So was the watch.
This time it was John who initiated the manhug. An extremely hearty one. Dan almost expected to
receive a pair of Gallic kisses on the cheeks before DJ let him go.
“It was right where you said it would be. Ten days, and still there. It’s like a miracle.”
“Nah,” Dan said. “Most people rarely look above their own eyeline. It’s a proven fact.”
“How did you know?”
Dan shook his head. “I can’t explain it. Sometimes I just do.”
“How can I thank you?”
This was the question Dan had been waiting and hoping for. “By working the Twelfth Step,
dummocks.”
John D. raised his eyebrows.
“Anonymity. In words of one syllable, keep ya fuckin mouth shut.”
Understanding broke on John’s face. He grinned. “I can do that.”
“Good. Now make the coffee. I’ll put out the books.”
4
In most New England AA groups, anniversaries are called birthdays and celebrated with a cake and an
after-meeting party. Shortly before Dan was due to celebrate his third year of sobriety in this fashion,
David Stone and Abra’s great-grandmother came to see John Dalton—known in some circles as either
Doctor John or DJ—and invite him to another third birthday party. This was the one the Stones were
throwing for Abra.
“That’s very kind,” John said, “and I’ll be more than happy to drop by if I can. Only why do I feel
there’s a little more to it?”
“Because there is,” Chetta said. “And Mr. Stubborn here has decided that it’s finally time to talk
about it.”
“Is there a problem with Abra? If there is, fill me in. Based on her last checkup, she’s fine.
Fearsomely bright. Social skills terrific. Verbal skills through the roof. Reading, ditto. Last time she
was here she read me Alligators All Around. Probably rote memory, but still remarkable for a child
who’s not yet three. Does Lucy know you’re here?”
“Lucy and Chetta are the ones who ganged up on me,” David said. “Lucy’s home with Abra, making
cupcakes for the party. When I left, the kitchen looked like hell in a high wind.”
“So what are we saying here? That you want me at her party in an observational capacity?”
“That’s right,” Concetta said. “None of us can say for sure that something will happen, but it’s
more likely to when she’s excited, and she’s very excited about her party. All her little pals from
daycare are coming, and there’s going to be a fellow who does magic tricks.”
John opened a desk drawer and took out a yellow legal pad. “What kind of something are you
expecting?”
David hesitated. “That’s . . . hard to say.”
Chetta turned to face him. “Go on, caro. Too late to back out now.” Her tone was light, almost gay,
but John Dalton thought she looked worried. He thought they both did. “Begin with the night she