Denny looked up from his men's magazine when he heard Alan come into the study where he was sitting. "Hey. Where've you been all morning?"

Alan flopped down on the couch opposite his husband and replied, "Running errands with Dave. We got gas, dropped off and picked up dry cleaning and picked up some groceries Olympia wanted."

"Uh – huh. Anything to avoid calling Sheila."

"No!"

"Um, yeah!"

Alan blew out a puff of air in exasperation. "All right! You know me too well, Denny. Her request for me to represent her was the first thing on my mind this morning. I just don't know what I'm going to do. She's a friend, but from a very different time in my life. I…I don't know if I want to go back there again." He stood and walked to look out the window. "I've always prided myself on my loyalty to my friends. They were always the family I chose as opposed to the family I was born into, but now…"

"But now," Denny interrupted, "I'm your family and your first loyalty is to me. Or, it should be."

The younger man looked at him quietly for a few seconds before replying, "It is. Maybe that's why I'm struggling with this. What do you think I should do?"

"Definitely try to have sex with her; she looks like she could be in this nudie mag." He tossed the magazine aside. "Beyond that, I guess it wouldn't hurt to hear the details of her problems. If you want to help her after that, fine. And even if you don't, you might be able to give her some advice."

Alan nodded and then pulled his phone from his shirt pocket. He had saved the number she had included in her email. After two rings, she answered. "Sheila, it's Alan. It's eleven – thirty now; are you available for lunch at one o'clock? Do you remember where Marceau's is? Great. See you then." He grinned at his husband as he replaced the phone in his pocket. "'Into the Valley of Death rode the six hundred."

Denny grunted. "Never heard you quote 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' before. But not to worry; you have what they didn't."

"Which is?"

The older man puffed up like a peacock. "Me, of course! Denny Crane!"

Alan began to take his leave. "I'm taking the Bentley. I should be back no later than five. See you later."

He actually arrived at Marceau's before Sheila did and was able to secure a table in a fairly secluded section. I haven't been here since Jerry and I met for drinks.* He ordered a beer and accepted two menus while he waited for her. Approximately ten minutes after he arrived, he saw her enter the front door dressed in a black pantsuit with a white blouse over which she wore a black cashmere coat. She glanced around quickly, smiled as she caught his eye and walked to where he was seated.

She removed her coat and draped it over a chair before sitting. "Hi. I was starting to think perhaps I wasn't going to hear from you right before you called." She signaled the waiter for a beer and picked up a menu. "I'm starving. I hope the burgers here are as good as I remember."

The waiter took their food order when he brought over her beer. Alan watched him walk out of earshot before speaking. "So. Tell me what's happening."

"Remember in my email I said I had been living out of state for the last few years?" She continued after he nodded. "That's not the complete truth. I was living in New Hampshire for five years in beautiful, peaceful Berlin. It's a small town, but there was room for an attorney of wide – ranging talents and I was able to fit in and make a home and build a practice. Things were going really well; so well, in fact, that I decided I no longer needed to take my meds."

"And how did that work out for you?" Just then their food arrived and Alan waited as Sheila attacked her burger and fries.

After taking three huge bites of her burger and washing it down with some fries and Coke she answered, "At first, things were fine. God had started to speak to me again, but I knew if I let anyone know that, I would have problems. So, I didn't tell anyone and I only spoke to Him when I was home alone. The problems began when I started feeling like maybe I should tell my clients what God was telling me. I even tamped that feeling down for a long time. Things came to a head when I had a husband and wife in my office preparing their wills and when I read the husband's, God told me that he was holding out on his wife and I had to tell her."

Alan took a draw from his beer, partially to hide his expression, and replied, "So, you did."

"Yes, right then. I said he was leaving money and property to his mistress and their child. As you can imagine, the wife became enraged and cursed her husband out before storming out, all the while screaming she would divorce him and strip him of every cent he had."

"Was that true? What you said about the husband?"

"Unfortunately, no. I must have misunderstood God. I could have sworn that was what He said to me." She shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway, that created quite a fuss and a scandal in town. By the time the wife began to believe her husband, he was furious about her lack of faith in him and her threats to take him to the cleaners, so he filed for divorce. They both accused me of ruining their marriage. I was looking at a lawsuit and possible disbarment. I told my father about my troubles and when I admitted I was not taking any medication, he begged me to return to Massachusetts and then promptly had me committed when I did. That was eighteen months ago. I was released last month because under Chapter One Hundred Twenty – three, Section Thirty – five of the General Law, he couldn't have me held any longer, but now he wants to be named my conservator and handle my life. Alan, it's bad enough he was doing it while I was committed, but he doesn't want to stop. Please, help me."

While she had been telling her story, Alan had been pushing his salad around the bowl. He wasn't feeling very hungry to begin with and listening to her was further killing his appetite. "Sheila, are you taking your medication again?"

"Honestly?"

"If you don't mind."

"No. I don't want to take them. I like being able to hear God. Why doesn't anyone seem to understand that?"

Alan lifted his right hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, he just felt very tired. God, if you can hear me, please give me the right words to tell this lunatic that I don't want her case. All I want to do right now is go home. "Sheila," he said as he reached over and gently took her hand, "the best help and advice I can give you is: Take your meds. Has your father told that he would stop pursuing his case if you did?"

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "How do you know that? Has my father spoken to you? He has, hasn't he?"

"I swear to you he has not. I don't know the man, but he sounds to me like a concerned father who is worried about his daughter's state of mind. I am your friend, Sheila, but I agree with your father; therefore, I cannot take your case. You need to take your medication. Please understand."

She leaned back in her chair and simply stared at him. Just when he was starting to feel hot from the intensity of her gaze, she broke eye contact to reach into her purse for her wallet. She threw enough money onto the table to cover lunch and the tip.

"I invited you. Let me," Alan said as he signaled for the check.

"No!" she snarled loud enough for people a couple of tables away to hear and look their way. "This is a small price to pay for the great Alan Shore's time. God told me not to come to you; that you wouldn't understand. I thought I knew better." She stood and snatched her coat off the chair and threw it on. "You are definitely not the man I knew years ago." And with that, she turned around and flounced out the restaurant.

Alan used the cash to pay the bill and prepared to leave. He decided to stop in the Men's room first. When he walked past the closest occupied table, one of the three guys sitting there said to him, "Man, you dodged a bullet there! That's a good-lookin' woman, but that bitch is crazy!"

Alan replied as he kept moving, "You have no idea."

*ref. "On the Same Page"