Howie was at his desk before any of us on Monday morning. He'd even made the coffee, albeit insipidly. He obviously knew he owed us an explanation but I sensed he would wait us out until someone asked.

"Let's take a walk, Howie," I said. "It's a nice morning for a stroll." We left the building to Betsy as the three Leblanc's were yet to arrive.

We strolled up the main street, rumored to be the widest in the country, but I don't know who measures. In any event, it presents a beautiful view of the town common, our destination. Keene was once called The Elm City before Dutch elm disease destroyed the massive trees that surrounded the grassy area at the head of the square. New, disease resistant trees are bringing back the splendor of what has been called one of the prettiest towns in New England.

Nothing was said until we settled on a bench near the circular band stand, beneath the obligatory memorial statue.

"I guess everyone is pissed at me," Howie mumbled, his eyes cast down to the ground.

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"No," I answered. "Curious and maybe a little frightened."

He looked up. "Of Julie?"

"More of where the relationship might lead."

He began pounding his fist into his hand. "I know I screwed up. I'm the one most up in the pulpit on security. Now I've gone and . . ."

"And what? Howie?"

"Fallen for her, I guess. I didn't mean to but she's a great person and she makes me have feelings I didn't know existed. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Betsy and I have each other and Quinn and Martha each other plus Claire. You deserve just as much."

"Not if it screws up what we're doing . . . what we should be doing right now, instead of talking about my love life." He turned to me. "Ben, tell me what to do!"

"Howie, I can't tell you what to do; only give you advice and try to look at the options logically. Are you serious about Julie . . . I mean really serious?"

"Yeah, I guess, as much as I know about having any kind of relationship. God, I don't know if I ever even kissed a girl before Julie! Can you imagine that . . . a guy in his thirties not even knowing if he's ever been kissed? That's not something I can ask my mother, for god's sake!" He looked up. "I thought about asking Martha; she was around some when I was growing up. I chickened out. I guess I was a virgin, studying to be a priest and all."

"Does it matter? You keep saying you don't care about your past anymore; you want to move ahead."




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