It was an unseasonably comfortable early-spring evening in Boston and as usual, Denny Crane and Alan Shore were sitting on the balcony, drinks in hand, after a hard day's (at least, on Alan's part) work. He had been in court or conferences all day while Denny had been in his office taking and making business calls to current and potential clients. Even though Denny rarely handled actual casework anymore, his name on the door was still synonymous with the best legal representation money could buy and that brought in wealthy, paying customers who were then assigned to one or more of the small army of world-class lawyers employed by Crane Poole and Schmidt. Under my direct oversight, he would assure any client who felt his or her legal concerns deserved personal attention from the great Denny Crane himself. Rest assured nothing goes on at CP&S that I don't know about. I have intimate knowledge of the facts of your case and all of your concerns and I have the final approval for any decisions regarding your situation.

But, none of that was important at the moment. Barring unforeseen circumstances, the workday was finished and Denny was at his favorite time of the day; enjoying a drink and a cigar with his best friend. Except, he thought, Alan isn't himself this evening. Denny quietly studied the younger man trying to figure out why that was. It wasn't because Alan hadn't spoken a word since "hello." It was not unusual for them to sometimes sit silently drinking and smoking, each lost in thought until, as if by some unspoken signal, they extinguished their cigars and drained their glasses and prepared to leave. No, something else is going on here. The way he keeps swirling his scotch and looking into the glass and his eyes; his eyes have a faraway, almost haunted expression about them. Well, he reasoned, I can either sit here and pretend nothing's wrong or I can open this can of worms. So, here goes. "Alan, you look like you've lost your best friend and since I'm right here, that can't be it. What's wrong?"

Alan smiled slightly at that and replied, "Yes, you are here, my friend. I'm the one who is a million miles away. Forgive me for not being very good company tonight. Today is a bad day for me."

"What? Did you lose in court today? No one will hold that against you. There's only one Denny Crane; everyone else loses sometimes."

Alan shook his head and toked on his cigar. "No, Denny. I didn't lose. I don't mean I had a bad day today. I mean the date; April 8th is a bad day for me. This is the anniversary of my wife's death."

Denny leaned back into his chair sighed. "I'm sorry, Alan, I didn't realize. How long has it been? And, how come I don't remember you mentioning this last year or the year before? Did you tell me and I forgot?" He raised his right hand and tapped his index finger to his temple. "Mad Cow."

Alan looked at his left hand and twisted a wedding ring that was no longer there. "You didn't forget, Denny. The last two years I was able to distract myself because I was seeing Sally and then Tara. But with Tara gone…" He looked down then sighed, "And in answer to your first question: Sixteen years today," he answered. "We were thirty-one when she died." He smiled despondently, "We had the same birthday."

"Alan, tell me this is none of my business if this is too personal or painful for you, but we've known each other for four years now and ever since you came to work at CP&S three years ago, we've become really close, but you've only mentioned your wife twice in all that time and I have to admit, I would really like to know more about her."

Alan's eyes met his. "You would?"

"Yes, I would! I mean, how did you meet? What did she do for a living? How did she…" Denny looked embarrassed and stopped.

"How did she die," Alan finished for him. Denny nodded.

Alan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he looked out at the Boston night. I can tell Denny. He just wants to know because he cares about me. And, if Cathy were alive and met him, she would like him. I know it. And, I want to talk about Cathy and Denny is the only other person in my life I can share this with; Adrienne already knows. He glanced over and saw that Denny was still waiting for an answer. "OK, Denny, I'll tell you about her, but not here. How about we get some Chinese takeout and go home to your house?"

After dinner, they went into Denny's library and settled on the couch with their snifters of brandy. Alan turned on the lamp next to him and began to speak.

"I met Catherine Burrell when I was twenty-five years old. I had graduated from Harvard Law and was a struggling, no-name attorney who was already cynical about life. I was a childless father whose choices had taken me away from my son and the one person up to that point in time that had ever shown me unconditional love and affection."

Denny smiled knowingly. "Adrienne."

"Yes. We had agreed to separate in order to pursue our dreams and goals. I was determined to make my sacrifices worth the pain so when I graduated near the top of my class, I accepted employment with a small firm that couldn't pay me a lot, but would give me lots of courtroom experience in both civil and criminal law. The workload I put on myself didn't leave much room or time for socializing. I tried to have a relationship in law school with Phoebe; you know how that turned out, so I decided to put any semblance of a normal personal life on the back burner. Sex was just another chore to handle, like laundry. If anyone wanted more than a casual fling, they were history."

"One day, I was heading home from the office with a ton of paperwork to review for an upcoming case. I decided to pick up a sandwich for dinner so I headed for my favorite deli. Next door at the time, there was a coffee shop that was owned by some ex-hippies who would always allow street musicians to play on their stage for whatever money they could earn in tips. I happened to glance through the window and I saw this young white woman preparing to play a cello. You know I love classical music, Denny, so I decided to take a seat and listen. As soon as I sat down, she began to play Johann Sebastian Bach's Prelude from Suite Number Four in E-flat Major. It's a difficult piece and she played it flawlessly. I was totally blown away and when she finished, I invited her to sit with me and have a cup of coffee. She accepted."

Denny was nodding in encouragement. When Alan didn't pick up the narrative immediately, Denny asked, "So, what did she look like? She must have been super-hot."

Smiling at the memory of her, Alan responded, "It's a funny thing, Denny. I really did want to speak to her because I thought she played superbly. I wasn't thinking about her looks, but to answer your question, when I met her, she was wearing jeans, sneakers, a long sleeve black turtleneck and a red and black down vest. The only makeup I noticed was eyeliner and lipstick. Her hair was medium brown, parted down the middle and hung about half-way down her back. When she stood up from her cello and came to join me at my table, I could see that she was about five foot six. Her body, what I could see of it, was nice enough to look at; she had a slight paunch."

"We talked for hours. She told me she was a classically trained cellist and pianist, but the cello was her first love and it was her dream to play either in the Boston Pops or the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. She asked about me and what I did, of course and I told her, but I didn't want to talk about me. I just wanted to keep learning about her. It seemed like just a few minutes had gone by, but when I looked at my watch, it was almost eleven o'clock! I hailed a cab and escorted her home. I asked if I could have her phone number so we could talk again. She gave it to me."

Denny looked at Alan a little dubiously and said, "You didn't try to kiss her?"

"I didn't try to kiss her. I told her I would call her and left. I was prepared for court by the skin of my teeth. I stayed up until 5AM reviewing the case, slept for an hour and a half, then showered and went to work. I won that case, but ten minutes after the judge's decision, I couldn't tell you what I had said. I was fried. I called Cathy to tell her I had won and that I really enjoyed our conversation. She said she enjoyed it, too. I asked her if she wanted to go to the Mozart concert on the Common that Saturday and she said she would love to go." Alan laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "In my head, it wasn't a date so much as two people with a shared interest in classical music getting together for a concert. We met up at the park; we had agreed earlier that she would bring blankets for the ground and our laps and I would provide wine, cheese and crackers. I think the concert started about thirty minutes after we arrived. I remember thinking before meeting her there that the other night had been a fluke. We couldn't possibly enjoy each other's company that much again. But as time passed, I began to realize that it wasn't a fluke; we were connecting like we had known each other for years. It was almost intuitive, the way we related to each other. I felt relaxed with her and by the intermission; I was starting to think she was really pretty. Her personality made her pretty. Over the eight months we dated before I proposed, the more I got to know her, the more unbelievably gorgeous she became to me."

Denny was fascinated. "Alan, this is a whole other side of you I've never seen before! I don't mean any disrespect, but I would never have guessed you would pursue a woman who wasn't drop dead gorgeous from the moment you laid eyes on her. I mean, Adrienne is beautiful. And since I brought her up, I know you and Adrienne were in contact all this time. How did that play out? Did she kick your ass?"

Alan laughed out loud. "No, she did not 'kick my ass!' I told you when she was here months ago that she was happy for me. Oh, and by the way, Adrienne is beautiful now, but I met her when she was nine and I was eleven. She was just cute then."

"After Cathy and I had been together about three months, I called Adrienne. She was being mentored by a bail bondsman in Colorado who was teaching her the profession. I told her all about Cathy. She said Cathy sounded like exactly what I needed to be happy and she encouraged me to stay the course. She also told me to be open about our history with Cathy and not to just throw the relationship away if she had a problem with it. Thank God, Cathy understood and accepted that part of my life. They actually met each other about three months before the wedding. Adrienne cared about Cathy because I loved her, but Adrienne also liked Cathy for herself. I never met anyone who disliked Cathy."

"We got married when we were twenty-seven. Denny, I was so in love I couldn't breathe. If I live to be one hundred, I will never forget how I felt when I saw her enter the church and start to walk down the aisle toward me. You know how it's supposed to be bad luck to see the bride the day before the wedding? Well, Cathy forbade me to see her the week before our wedding. When she appeared, her hair had been lightened and highlighted and was swept up on top of her head and held in place with little white flowers and baby's breath. Normally, she wore very little makeup, but that day she had had it applied by a professional. I knew she was wearing makeup, but she looked completely natural and her face was even more beautiful than I remembered it being, if that makes any sense. Her dress was long-sleeved and covered with hand-sewn beading and it made her seem like she was floating down the aisle. I'm not ashamed to tell you that I teared up at the sight of her. I felt so incredibly lucky that this amazing woman wanted to marry me." Alan sighed and looked wistfully at his empty glass.

Denny picked up both glasses and walked over to replenish them from the decanter that sat on the credenza. He handed Alan's back to him, and held his up in salute. Alan lifted his, said, "Cheers" and swallowed some brandy. He sat back and smiled as the warmth of the liquor spread through his stomach. "So, now you know how we met, how long we dated and about our wedding day. Any questions, so far?"

"You're not the friendliest person in the world, Alan. Who was your best man?"

Alan snorted at that and swirled his drink. "You're right. My closest friend at the time was Adrienne and obviously, that wasn't going to happen so I asked Cathy's brother Ray to stand up with me. That solution killed two birds with one stone: It saved me the embarrassment of admitting I had no male best friend and it endeared me to Cathy's family because her sisters, Maureen and Shelley, were her maid and matron of honor so it was fitting that her brother be more than an usher."

"My career was starting to take off so we bought a house in Cambridge so she could be near the local colleges and take music classes and teach part time. We had agreed that she would split her time between homemaking and honing her skills as a cellist. I felt proud that I could provide enough so that she was free to pursue her dreams without worrying about money. I was deliriously happy except for one thing."

Denny asked, "What was that?"

Alan looked at Denny and gave a half-smile. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out. I had hoped we could start a family immediately."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I was financially stable and certain to become even more so in the future and I was married to a woman I loved. I was in a position to do it right. Cathy and I had discussed having a family before we married, of course, and she wanted a child as much as I did, but she wanted to wait until her music career was established or we turned thirty-two, whichever came first."

Denny eyed the younger man questioningly and said, "Thirty-two? Why thirty-two?"

Alan shrugged, "Because that gave her five years to get hired by either the Pops or the Philharmonic Orchestra. Cathy told me that if she couldn't do it by then, she would know it was time to move on to something else; like becoming a fulltime music teacher. Plus, and this is what made me agree to wait, we could enjoy each other and be completely selfish about it. She told me that she would make it worth my while. And she did, Denny. From the day we met to the day she died, I didn't look at another woman. I never wanted anyone else." He stood up and walked to the window and looked out.

"I envy you that, Alan," Denny said softly. When Alan turned around to look at him with surprised eyes, he continued, "I wanted that kind of love. Hell, I still want it. That's why I keep getting married. Because I keep hoping it's going to happen for me. And, you got it right the first time. You lucky bastard."

"Oh yeah, I'm real lucky," Alan murmured before coming back to the couch. He rubbed his face and glanced at Denny and smiled sadly. "Anyway, by the time we were thirty, I was working at Carruthers – Abbott after getting fired from Howard and Brock and her career looked like it was finally on the verge of taking off. All the years of networking with musicians, teachers, and anyone else who could introduce her to someone who knew someone who knew someone paid off when she received a call to audition for a spot with the New York Philharmonic."

"She was thrilled and scared to death. She had a week to prepare and she agonized over every little detail. What should she play, what should she wear, what should she say. I suggested she play the Bach piece she had played the day I met her. 'I knew you would say that,' she said. Any article of clothing I suggested would be greeted with 'I knew you would suggest that.' Then she would tell me why it wasn't right. She knew me better than I knew myself, Denny. I could never surprise her."

"But I had something up my sleeve I knew was going to shock her. The day before her audition, I had accompanied her to New York. We took the train because I thought it would be more relaxing than flying. It turned out to be a perfect idea because we talked about our future and held hands practically the entire ride. I had booked us into the Plaza. I had made dinner reservations at Le Bernadin. I arranged for a hansom cab ride through Central Park and then after-dinner drinks in the Plaza's Oak Room. Then, we retired to our room by 9PM so she would be well rested for her audition."

"I went with her and waited outside for her audition to finish. She was prepared to perform two pieces for the judges: The Prelude I had suggested and Franz Haydn's "The Heavens Are Telling." I kissed her for luck even though I had told her she didn't need it. She just smiled and said 'I knew you would say that.' She always knew."

"When she came out, she told me that she thought it had gone well, but they had other people to audition before they reached a decision; however, she would receive a call in two to three days. 'I guess there's nothing to be done except to go home,' she said. 'Oh, there's something to do,' I told her. And, that's when I shocked her. I told her that I had taken the rest of the week off and had booked us into her favorite ski resort in Vermont. I had packed and shipped all our gear to the lodge unbeknownst to her and we were booked on Amtrak that night and would be there late morning the next day. That was the one and only time I ever surprised her. She looked at me and laughed while she grabbed me around the neck and hugged me so hard I thought she would choke me. She leaned back and said, 'I didn't know you were going to say that.'

We were drinking hot chocolate by the fire three days later when her cell rang. It was the lead judge from the Philharmonic try-outs congratulating her on her successful audition and offering her a position. She very calmly thanked him for his kind offer and said that, yes, she would be honored to accept it and yes, she would be able to start in two weeks. The screaming started two seconds after she hung up. Both of us leapt off the couch like it was on fire and we jumped around like crazy. When we realized the other guests were staring, we stopped and walked very deliberately to our room where we started celebrating in earnest. Denny, all I will tell you about that is that we celebrated all night and didn't go on the slopes the next day."

Denny leaned forward and shook his head in disbelief. "Wait a minute. You know how to ski?"

"No. Cathy loved skiing and was very good at it. I would stand at the bottom of the slope and watch her ski down. She talked me into trying the beginners' hills once or twice, but I fell one time too many and I threw in the proverbial towel. That's why I knew she would never figure out that I was taking her skiing because she knew I didn't much care for it."

"So what, were you going to have a long – distance marriage with you in Boston and her in New York City?"

"We had discussed it and I was going to transfer to the Carruthers – Abbott New York office. I had already discussed it with the senior partners and we all felt the New York office would be a good fit for me. We had already been in contact with a real estate broker. We wanted to keep the house in Cambridge and buy a two bedroom condo in the Long Island City section of Queens. We were looking to the future. Both locations we felt would be suitable for our children."

Saturday was our last full day there so Cathy wanted to spend it skiing. She was having a great time. She would ski down and turn sideways in front of me so that the snow would hit me and laugh. After lunch, we tobogganed for an hour or so. She would sit in front of me and I would wrap my arms around her and hold on to the rope as we went screaming down the hill."

"It was starting to get late; there was maybe an hour of sunlight left and she decided to make one more run down the ski slope. I went and stood in my spot where I could watch her. She was almost at the bottom when another skier came too close to her. She lost her balance when she tried to avoid a collision and fell. I ran to her, but by the time I got there, she was already up and laughing. The other skier had stopped to see if she was okay and when Cathy assured us both she was, the other woman apologized and left. I remember she made a joke about not wanting her butt to be sore the next day so I should massage it that night." Alan leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He took several deep breaths and when he looked at Denny, his eyes were red. Wordlessly, Denny closed the distance between them and began to rub small circles on Alan's back.

Alan smiled slightly at the older man and said, "That evening, we had an early dinner. Around 7:30, Cathy said she was tired and was turning in early. I wasn't ready for bed so I told her I was going to play darts and would be up shortly. I ended up playing with a couple of guys for about an hour and a half so when I entered our room and the lights were off, I thought nothing of it. I went to the bathroom and when I came out, I turned on the lamp on my side of the bed. I glanced over and…and she didn't look right. Her color was off. Then I noticed she wasn't breathing. I touched her face and she was cold. I remember thinking This can't be happening! After that, it's all kind of a blur. I started screaming her name and calling for help. I remember seeing police, medical personnel, resort employees and other guests crowding around our room door. I heard someone say 'she's dead' and I argued that she couldn't be. I laid out my argument against her being dead like I was in front of the Supreme Court: She had just realized her dream of being hired by the New York Philharmonic, we were moving to New York, we were going to have a family so obviously she couldn't be dead. The resort owner's wife took my hands in hers and said 'She's gone, Alan. I'm so sorry.'"

Tears fell from Denny's eyes as he listened to the tale unfold. How can one person experience so much pain and remain sane? He wiped away the tears quickly so Alan wouldn't see. "What, what happened then?" he whispered.

"I couldn't process anything. It was like I was frozen in place. The medical technicians took Cathy to the morgue. The police wanted to question me and all I could do was stare at them. When one young cop had the temerity to imply that I needed a lawyer, I told him that I am a lawyer and if he didn't want his career ruined and his life made a living hell, he had better stop treating me like a suspect when a cause of death had yet to be established. He backed off. Mrs. Stockman, the owner's wife, took me to their apartment and made me tea. I was a zombie."

"After awhile, I thanked her and said I have to call her family and I asked if there was another room I could stay in that night. Fortunately, there was. Mr. Stockman was kind enough to pack and move our things into the new room. I was afraid if I went back into our room, I would start screaming again and never stop."

"Calling Cathy's parents was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. It was almost eleven PM when I called and all I could say was Cathy's dead and I don't know. Because I didn't know, Denny, how one minute she was fine and we were heading into our future and then, she was gone. I had no answers for me or them."

"The second call I made was to Adrienne. I completely broke down. I was wailing I don't know, I don't know what happened. She asked me where I was and I told her at a resort outside Burlington. She told me to hold on for a few minutes and when she got back on the line, she told me she would be there the next day as she had just made travel arrangements. She said she would rent a car at the airport and would meet me at the lodge."

"Cathy's family arrived the next day, too. I don't know, Denny; maybe I would have acted the same way if the situation had been reversed. They treated me like I had done something to Cathy. They were looking for explanations and I had none. There were ugly accusations and veiled threats. When Adrienne showed up three hours later, Cathy's father made a comment about 'my side chick showing up.' I went ballistic and Adrienne had to calm me down. She grabbed my arm and said let's go somewhere to talk. As we were leaving the room, she turned around and said 'Mr. Burrell, when I met your daughter, I knew she was perfect for Alan and I likened her to a rose growing in a field of daisies. But upon closer inspection now, I realize the daisies I mistook you for are in reality, assholes.' I had the satisfaction of seeing his mouth drop open before I walked through the door."

Denny burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," he gasped out, "but I can just imagine Adrienne saying that!"

"Indeed. She's always been protective of me."

Sobering again, Denny prompted, "What did the autopsy reveal?"

"Cathy died from a brain hemorrhage. Apparently, when she lost her balance and fell earlier that day, the bleeding had started then. The fatigue she felt was probably because of the bleeding. She just went upstairs, laid down and…died."

"Cathy's mother tried to make amends once the autopsy revealed how Cathy died, but it was too late. The entire family had basically accused me of murdering my wife and I wanted nothing to do with them. I couldn't even look at them, let alone discuss my feelings or Cathy with them. They wanted Cathy buried, but she had wanted cremation. They didn't like that. I didn't care. When they objected to Adrienne being there and helping me, I told them she was my only family and the only person I trusted."

"Adrienne did everything for me she could, Denny. When she saw how upset the Burrells were making me, she packed up Cathy's and my stuff and she found and checked us into a hotel in Burlington to await the autopsy results. Adjoining rooms so she would be nearby. She made sure I ate, watched over me while I slept, called my job and negotiated a leave of absence, called the Philharmonic, found a funeral home in Burlington to handle the cremation. She let me talk, she let me cry, she let me be quiet. She drove us back to Boston. When I realized I couldn't stay in our home in Cambridge with all those memories, she helped me find a realtor to sell it. That's when I moved permanently into a hotel. Without Cathy, I didn't want a house or a home."

"The one thing Adrienne never did was intrude. My whole life was shattered and I was adrift. I guess it's a testament to our relationship that she always seems to know when to pull back and give me space and when to step forward and embrace me.

"She was standing next to me the last time I spoke with Cathy's mother. I couldn't deal with Cathy's possessions. Any of it. The only thing I wanted was her wedding ring. So, I had the entire house packed up; her clothes, jewelry, furniture, pots, pans, dishes, her cello, everything. I had it moved to a storage facility, paid two months' rent and called Mrs. Burrell and told her I would messenger her the key and she and her family could do whatever they wanted with it. I haven't spoken to any of them since. And don't care to."

"Adrienne went back to her life a month later. When this day comes around, she won't call me. If I feel like talking, I call her. Regardless, she makes a point to call me in April just to 'say hello.' She called day before yesterday, in fact." Alan stood up and stretched. "Now you know about Cathy. Do you still think I'm 'one lucky bastard?'"

Denny struggled up from the couch and pulled his best friend into a gentle hug and replied, "Yes, I do. You had a great first love with your best friend from childhood. As an adult, you found your soul mate. Even though you only had her for six years, you had her. Most people aren't that lucky. When you needed a friend when the unthinkable happened to you, Adrienne was there. And now, you have me. Denny Crane! Not many people are lucky enough to have two best friends, Alan." He let Alan go and patted him on the shoulder. "I love you, you know." Denny headed for the stairs to go to bed.

"I know. I love you, too. I'll be up in a few minutes." He walked into the study where he kept his briefcase and pulled out his phone and pushed number 2 on his speed dial. "Hi, Adrienne. I'm good. I told Denny about Cathy. Yeah, finally. He was a good listener. Yes, you're right, she would have loved him. Not that I need reminding, but he said I was lucky you were there for me back then. I know. I love you, too. I will tell Denny. Good night." He hit the "end call" button on his phone and put it in his pocket and smiled. My friends are the best, he thought. Cathy, my love, I still miss you, but rest assured I am in good hands. He turned and headed for the stairs to go to bed.