Alan had been reviewing his notes and tweaking his questions for the 2PM Ffolkes deposition when his intercom buzzed. What now? The deposition is in an hour! Knowing that his assistant would become even more nervous than usual if he thought he had annoyed his boss, Alan took a moment to breathe deeply before picking up the phone. "Yes, Clarence."

"Alan, sorry to disturb but, there's a Dr. Stone calling from Faulkner Hospital in uh… Jamaica Plain? She says she needs to speak with you immediately."

Impatient to get back to work, Alan curtly said, "I don't know a Dr. Stone. Did she tell you why she's calling me?"

"Um, yes, Alan, she..." Alan could tell from his tone of voice that Clarence was rattled and was probably now shifting his eyes from side to side. "She said it's about your father."

Alan swallowed hard. He hadn't even thought about his father in years, let alone seen or spoken with him. Damn. He's probably has a case of delirium tremens or a broken arm from falling down drunk. He must need me to pay his bill. That's all I was ever good for to him: His personal ATM until I told him to go to hell.

"Alan? What should I tell her?"

"I'll speak to her, Clarence. Which line?"

"Line 4."

"Alan Shore."

"Mr. Shore, Dr. Stone. Gowan Shore was admitted last week. I'm sorry you weren't informed sooner but, he was adamant with the staff that he had no next of kin."

"Don't apologize, Doctor, he and I are…estranged."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Shore but, I have to tell you that your father has passed away. The only phone number in his wallet was this one."

Alan sat up straighter in his seat and closed the file in front of him. "He's dead? What, what happened to him, exactly? And, from what you said earlier, you didn't speak to him. If you were not his doctor, what is your position there, please?"

"I'm the Chief of Staff. He was found lying in front of his home in Dedham last Saturday by a passerby. He had had a major stroke. He regained consciousness briefly. That was when he told staff he had no family. Unfortunately, this morning, he went into cardiac arrest and we were unable to revive him. Before we make any decisions regarding the disposition of a deceased patient who ostensibly has no family, we make a good faith effort to find a family member or, at the least, a friend who might agree to handle the final arrangements. One of your business cards was in your father's wallet."

"Let me guess," Alan interjected, "finding a card that says 'Alan Shore, Attorney at Law, Crane Poole and Schmidt' set off some alarm bells in your Legal Department?"

Dr. Stone sighed, "I won't lie to you, Mr. Shore. When the property clerk found the card, she brought it to Legal and they contacted me to suggest, very strongly, that I personally make this call. The reputations of your firm in general and you in particular are well known to our lawyers. I have reviewed your father's records and this hospital did all it could to save him. You can certainly get a court order to have your own expert review them, of course. Would you like to speak to our Legal Department?"

Alan felt numb. He didn't want to appear like a complete douche to Dr. Stone, so rather than tell her what he was feeling (I don't care about any of this), he simply replied, "Thank you, Dr. I'm satisfied that everything that could be done was done. Faulkner has an impeccable reputation of its own."

A sigh of relief came through his phone. "Thank you, Mr. Shore. Again, we are sorry for your loss."

"I do have a question, however."

Dr. Stone responded guardedly, "Yes?"

Alan rubbed his forehead with his left hand; he felt a headache starting. He said, "You said my business card was in his wallet. The assumption could be made that we are related but, how did you know I was his son?"

"Oh," she said. Her tone of voice told him she was relieved she had a ready answer to his inquiry. "The words, 'my son', were written on the front of the card. I assume you will have a funeral director contact us to claim the bo...um, your father?"

Alan was stunned. "I'll have to get back to you. I have to go. Thank you for calling me. Goodbye, Dr. Stone." Alan hung up without waiting for a response. He sat at his desk with his head in his hands for a moment, and then pushed the intercom button. "Clarence, please find out if Denny is in his office alone and tell him I'll be there soon."

"Denny."

Denny Crane looked up from his newspaper and smiled as Alan walked through his door. "Yes, Alan. I thought you'd be in…Alan, what on earth is the matter?" The look on Alan's face made Denny stand up and go to him. Alan walked directly to the bar and poured a drink of scotch. He took a long draw, walked over to Denny's couch and sat heavily. Denny eased down next to him and waited for Alan to speak. In his mind, he counted down, 3, 2. 1…

"Gowan Shore is dead."

"Who the hell is Gowan Shore, Alan?"

"My father."

Denny was shocked. "Your…father? I thought your father was dead!"

Alan sipped more scotch. "He was to me. Now, he is to everyone. Since this morning. I just found out."

Denny moved closer and rubbed his friend's back. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, Alan."

Just then, Carl Sack walked into the office. He stopped when he saw the two of them sitting on the couch and frowned when he saw the drink in Alan's hand. "Why are you drinking when you have clients and opposing counsel sitting in Conference Room 2 waiting to start a deposition?"

Denny snarled at Carl, "Jerry is second chair on that case! Tell him to do it. Alan just found out his father died."

Carl visibly softened. "Alan, I am sorry." Alan nodded in acknowledgement but, said nothing. "I'll tell Jerry to start and not to expect you."

Denny answered, "Thank you, Carl."

A few minutes after Carl left, Shirley tapped on the door casement and entered the office. She went straight to Alan, kissed him on the forehead and said, "Alan, Carl just told me. I am so sorry. Whatever I can do…"

Alan shot off the couch and shouted, "Enough!" Denny and Shirley looked stunned. Alan whirled to face Shirley. Speaking in a cold, emotionless monotone, he said, "Have you ever heard me talk about my father? No, you haven't. Denny has. Twice. The first time, I told him I was a bitter disappointment to my father. I know that for a fact because he used to tell me so every time he had a wee bit too much to drink, which was very often. The second time, my friend Adrienne and I told him and Tara how my father had beaten the shit out of me. So, Shirley, this is what you can do for me. Nothing. Please tell Carl the same thing. I refuse to be a hypocrite. I do not want condolence cards, flowers, sympathetic hugs or back pats. I do not want announcements made to the staff. I do not want anyone offering to represent the firm at his funeral. There isn't going to be a funeral. I do want, right now, to finish this drink and to speak to Denny. Privately."

Shirley's face looked like it was made of stone. "Fine, Alan," she said.

Alan relented slightly, "Shirley, I'm…sorry, I don't want to come off as a total ass but, please understand. You and your father adored each other. My father and I…didn't."

Shirley looked at the floor, nodded, then stood up. "Alright, Alan. I'll make sure Carl doesn't tell anyone else. And, for what it's worth, I hope you can live with whatever decisions you make regarding this situation." She turned to leave.

"Shirley?"

"Yes, Alan?"

"You always, always, have my permission to kiss me. Anywhere on my body you'd like." Shirley just shook her head as she walked out the door.

Denny stood up, went to the door and closed it. He looked balefully at Alan.

Alan waved his hand and said, "Please don't start with me, Denny. Shirley is tougher than you and I combined; she's over it already, I can almost guarantee. What I need is for you to tell me why I shouldn't just let the hospital dispose of him however they see fit."

The look on Denny's face went from reproach to flat out shock. "Alan! No matter what, he was your father! You can't just let him get tossed out like garbage!"

Alan drained his glass and placed it on the bar. "Actually, I think I could live with that," he said as he prepared to leave. "Well, I'm going back to my office. Since I am no longer expected at the deposition, I can use the time to take care of paperwork so I don't have to work tomorrow or Sunday. See you on the balcony!"

Denny watched him saunter down the hall with a look of consternation. He isn't as tough as he thinks, he thought. I can't leave it like this.

Denny was on the balcony for almost an hour before Alan arrived. He took the glass and lit cigar Denny proffered, sat and puffed silently for a few moments. He got up and walked to the edge and looked down into the courtyard entrance of the building. "Denny, remember watching the Great Halloween Buzz Lightyear Battle? Fun times."

Denny joined him at the wall. "Alan, seriously, what are you going to do about your father?"

Alan placed his drink on the ledge, turned and looked Denny straight in the eye. "Seriously, Denny, I don't know. What I do know is that he'll keep just fine until I make a decision. That hospital is so happy that Crane Poole and Schmidt isn't setting its sights on them for malpractice, they would hold him in the Chief of Staff's office before doing something without my knowledge. He'll keep in the morgue for awhile. So, to quote Scarlett O'Hara: Tomorrow's another day."

Denny shook his head and looked away. I've always known Alan has the capacity to be a coldhearted bastard, but this is outrageous. Even for him.

Alan stepped in front of him. "Something on your mind, Denny?"

Denny decided quickly that now was not the time to explore the issue further. "Yes. Food. I'm starving. Let's go have dinner."

Alan smiled and said, "Good idea! I would love a big, juicy steak."

As they walked back into Denny's office and gathered their things, Denny said, "Did we have a sleep-over planned?"

Alan closed the door behind them as they began to walk to the elevators. "No."

Denny said, "Please come home with me tonight, Alan."

Alan smiled for the second time that day. "Why, Denny! How could I turn down such a sweet invitation?"