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Adam looked at his mother.

"You don't have to be here, Mom," he said, flatly. Ruth shook her head.

"Now, we've been over this before. I'm here by choice," said Ruth. Adam turned his head away.

"I'll send Chad over with some breakfast that's edible," said Adam, pushing aside the bowl of oatmeal.

"How is Chad?" asked Ruth, glad for a chance to change the subject.

"Fine," replied Adam, standing up.

"And Michael? How is he?"

"Fine."

"I just like to know how my grandchildren are doing," explained Ruth, somewhat defensively.

"Mom, you saw them both two days ago. You're just trying to change the subject," responded Adam.

"It's my decision. That's final. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"I have to get back," he said, checking his watch. Adam kissed his mother on the cheek and turned to go.

"Adam?" she called back.

"Hmmm?" he asked, turning in the doorway.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too." Adam walked down the hallway, past the two nurse stations that were posted on either side of the hall, and into the main room. From the main room, he made his way past the Break Room to the Administrator's office. A woman occupied one of the three chairs outside the office door, patiently waiting to talk to the Administrator. Adam knocked on the door. The woman was about to protest that someone was cutting in front of her when Adam said, "I'll just be a moment." Resigned that she still had a while to wait, the woman nodded with a patient smile. Adam went in, closing the door behind him.

Jerome Overholt was seated behind his desk, a telephone on his right shoulder and an open file before him, the contents of which were scattered over the desk.

"Hold that thought," Jerome said into the receiver, looking up at Adam. Jerome put a hand over the mouthpiece, awaiting an explanation for the interruption.

"Chess tonight?" asked Adam. Jerome nodded his assent. The townspeople of Twin Yucca who did not have family members in Mullen-Overholt, could never understand why Adam seemed to never miss an evening of chess with Jerome. The two men had few things in common. Like Adam, Jerome had gray at the temples, but Jerome's face was square and his eyes deep set into his skull. Jerome was forty-eight, (four years older than Adam), and unlike Adam, was seldom caught in a kind act or word. Were Jerome's chest opened and his innards examined, those who cared to look would find a stack of rules and regulations where his heart should be; a mind tangled with cob webs from lack of mental activity; and ears atrophied from years of neglect. On the rare occasion of a smile, his ruler-straight mouth would draw out into a thin horizontal line across his face. Few people knew this, for few people had thought Jerome Overholt capable of smiling, let alone catching him in the act. Indeed, if Adam Clark were stopped right now and asked if he had ever seen a kind look on the stony face of the Administrator of Mullen-Overholt, he would be unable to give an answer in the affirmative.

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