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Uncle C. frowned. Miriam said, “Ha! As if you two haven’t been running around all this past week playing the Hardy Boysanddoing Ray Millard’s job for him.”

“That’s what I expected. Come on, kid. I want to hear it all.” Uncle C.’s eyes sparkled with his old good humor and lively interest.

Andy opened his mouth to fill them in on some of the details, but Clark and Fleur arrived, bearing balloons and potted plants, and that put an end to any meaningful conversation.

“It’s a Christmas miracle!” Fleur exclaimed three times in seven minutes.

Uncle C. gave a droll little wink to Andy, but put up patiently with Fleur fussing around his perfectly tidy room and bed.

Every time Andy caught Fleur’s gaze, he felt a little stab of guilt for his suspicions. Worse, he hadn’t suspected Clark at all, had assumed Clark would be entirely oblivious to Fleur’s evildoing, when it turned out, back in the day, Clark had been the one pursuing a life of crime. In any case, the statute of limitations had long run out on Clark’s youthful transgressions.

“Glad everything worked out,” Clark told him as they stepped around the medical equipment so Fleur could rearrange the room’s only two chairs.

Andy nodded thanks.

Fleur chimed in, “Yes, someone certainly landed on his feet.” She smiled tightly at Andy. “TheIndependentpublished a retraction forty-five minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Andy said gravely.

Fleur was not amused. “Ha-ha, Andrew.”

“Now, now,” Uncle C. remonstrated. “We’re all family here.”

Miriam murmured, “I’ve never understood the meaning of that phrase.”

Fleur opened her mouth, caught Uncle C.’s gaze, and shut it. She smiled sweetly and patted his pillow.

Mercifully, before many more minutes passed, a nurse showed up and threw them all out.

“You’ll be back soon?” Uncle C. said when Andy took his hand to say goodbye. It made Andy’s heart ache to realize how tightly his uncle held on to him.

“I’m going to be here every day.” Andy smiled. “You’re going to be racking your brain for excuses to get rid of me.”

“Never,” Uncle C. whispered, and gave his hand a final squeeze.

On the endless elevator ride to the lobby, Fleur took Miriam to task for visiting Uncle C. without permission, complained about the hospital staff, remarked on how terrible Uncle C. looked, and asked Andy if he was still spending Christmas with them.

“I wish I could,” Andy said regretfully. “But something’s come up.”

Fleur gave him a brittle smile. “I told Clark something would.”

Clark met Andy’s gaze, smiled ruefully, and said, “Seeing you is all the medicine Cutty needed. He’ll be out of here in no time.”

Some of the air seemed to go out of Fleur. She leaned against Clark, he put his arm around her, and she closed her eyes.

When they reached the seventh ring of hell or, as it was known at Rufus County General, the lobby, the doors opened and Fleur snapped back to life, dragging Clark away without another word.

“She means well,” Miriam remarked as they trailed the other two across the glassy floor. Muted Christmas music floated overhead.

Andy murmured, “Does she?”

“Maybe not.” Miriam grimaced. She patted Andy’s shoulder. “Clark’s right. Seeing you was like a shot in the arm for Cuthbert. I hope you’re planning to stick around for a while.”

“As long as he needs me.”

She beamed. “And I guess he’s not the only one.” At Andy’s look of inquiry, she added, “From what I hear, Quinn Rafferty’s pretty pleased you’re back.”

“I don’t know about that.”