"Yep, new buddy of mine. You know who he is, right?"
William took a few seconds to answer. "Of course," he said, staring at his Joey. Then, struggling to sound as matter-of-fact as possible: "Why are you sending him this?"
"We're kicking around an idea we've come up with," said Byron, all snappy and playful.
"I see," William managed. "Byron, are the two of you thinking of starting up something new?"
"Hell, I don't know. It may be nothing. But it may be something, too. Listen, I don't want to talk your ear off. It's late, and you've got a real job to go to in the morning."
"It's okay. I was just reading."
"Well, if you've got a few minutes."
"I do. Really. The time doesn't matter," William said, and shakily seated himself in his chair. He reached over to the bookshelf and lifted Martha's photo. He placed it in his lap.
"Please, go on," he said, and for the next forty-five minutes, he listened.