Mr. Maitland stepped out into the hallway, pulling Artie's door shut behind him. He was glad the kids had had such a pleasant day out with Clara and her boyfriend. A doctor; that sounded nice and dependable. He braced himself mentally as he headed for Angie's room. One never knew what teenage girl drama of epic proportions was lurking in there these days. Some of it was just beyond him. He was so glad that Clara was around to deal with certain things. He paused, hearing voices coming from his daughter's room.

"But why wouldn't you marry him? He could have given you everything!"

"He could have given me things," Clara corrected gently. "There are words for girls who go with boys just because they give them things, none of which are nice, and none of which I ever want to hear coming out of your mouth. Things don't make a life."

"But he was nice," Angie protested.

"He was very nice," Clara agreed, "but I don't love him."

"What about your doctor, then? D'you love him?"

"I don't know yet," Clara replied candidly. "Maybe…someday…"

"You didn't pick him for his looks, that's for sure."

"Angie!"

"All right…I'm sorry. But, come on…a bowtie? And that chin!"

"Angie, love isn't about things, and it isn't about looks. How many times have you turned on the telly and seen a news story about some drop dead gorgeous bloke who beat his wife or got stoned and killed someone on the road?"

"Well…"

Mr. Maitland smiled to himself. That was quite a concession, coming from his daughter.

"Then, what is love about?' Angie asked, so softly that her father almost couldn't hear the words.

"It's about someone who holds your hand, and makes you feel like you're the most precious thing in the universe. It's about someone who looks into your eyes and makes you feel so beautiful, just by looking at you."

"But, he wouldn't even say you were pretty…he just made a bunch of stupid jokes."

"Oh, Angie…for all that he never seems to shut up, the Doctor has trouble sometimes with the important words. But that's OK, because it's all right there when I look into his eyes."

"Do you think I'll ever meet someone like that?" Angie asked.

"The Doctor is sort of one of a kind," Clara replied, in a voice warm with laughter, "but someday, yes, I think you will meet someone just as special."

"Good night, Clara."

"Good night, Angie. Sweet dreams." Clara pulled Angie's door carefully shut as she stepped out into the corridor. She was startled to see her employer standing there, and mentally retraced her conversation with Angie, hoping that nothing dodgy had been said.

"How are things in my daughter's little corner of the universe this evening?" he asked curiously.

"Fine," Clara answered, smiling. "We were just having a bit of girl talk."

"And you have no idea how happy I am to have you here for that. I suspect it would be quite beyond me."

"Well, I know what' it's like to be a young girl who's lost her mum," Clara replied softly.

After a moment's pained silence, Mr. Maitland drew in a deep breath and changed the subject. "Artie seems quite impressed with your friend, the Doctor. Perhaps I could meet him sometime?"

"I expect we can manage that," Clara agreed.

He grasped the doorknob to his daughter's room with the air of one about to step into a lion's cage. "Wish me luck." He turned back once more. "Clara?"

"Yes?"

"We really are incredibly lucky to have you with us, but…you're young, and you have your own life to lead. Just don't ever let us hold you back, all right?"

"A very wise person once said 'with love, all things are possible.' I like to think there's room enough in my heart for all the people who need me."

Clara lay awake for a long time that night, pondering her own words. Her love for the kids was unconditional, and they needed her, however much Angie liked to pretend that she didn't need anyone at all. But, on the other hand, this…whatever it was…that she had with the Doctor, was simply amazing, and she desperately wanted to see where it would lead. He'd shown her the stars, and she didn't think she could ever give that up. She hoped, ever so fervently, that she'd never have to choose.

She finally gave up on trying to sleep and went to make herself a cup of tea.