Daphne tossed and turned. She hated not being able to sleep. It would be easy to blame it on her small room here in Dr. Crane's, or the twin bed she slept in. But the cause was not so simple. Daphne knew she couldn't sleep because she and Mr. Crane had quarreled again. Of course this was far from out of the ordinary. Somehow, though, the things she'd said to the older man this time stuck with her. She'd called him lazy, and said that she would not be surprised if ended up dead very soon, with the way he took care of himself (or, more accurately, didn't). The words were far from true, but she'd said them purely in an attempt to hurt his feelings. She knew it had been successful.
After staring at her ceiling for what seemed like forever, Daphne gave up. Perhaps a change of scenery would help her. She threw her bathrobe back on, and quietly made her way out to the living room. In the dark, it was hard to see. She could barely make out her boss' familiar living room. But as she got closer, she noticed something. The TV was on. That's odd, she thought.
As she made her way farther into the room, and her eyes adjusted, she realized she wasn't alone. For, right there in front of the flickering TV, sat Mr. Crane, in his favorite chair. He was apparently asleep.
Martin awoke as he sensed her presence. "Come here to yell at me again?"
In spite of his angry tone, Daphne smiled. "No. I couldn't sleep."
"Oh."
"I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking of all the horrible things I said to you. I shouldn't have said them."
"Damn right you shouldn't have," Martin replied. "I may be a 'rotten old sod' but I've still got feelings."
Daphne nodded. "I know. I should never have said those things. You're like a father to me."
Something in her expression somehow softened him. "Well, thank you. That's very nice to hear." Deep down, Martin felt the same about her, but he was reluctant to say it.
"What are you watching?" Daphne asked, when it became clear he wasn't going to return her sentiment.
"Some old movie," Martin said with a shrug. At least, that was what had been on when he fell asleep. Now, for all he knew, it might well be an infomercial.
Daphne gave him a disbelieving look. "Looked to me like all you were watching was your eyelids!"
"I was not!" Martin replied angrily.
"All right, then, suit yourself," she replied, barely suppressing a laugh. "Are you going to bed now?"
"No, I'm gonna watch my movie now," Martin said, sounding a bit like a stubborn toddler.
Daphne was tempted to make another smart remark, but thought better of it. This man had taken her in, over his son's objections. If it hadn't been for him, where would she be now? "Well, I'm going back to bed," she finally said. She had a feeling sleep would come much more easily now.
She turned around, prepared to make her way back to her room. But she glanced back over at Martin, who was apparently engrossed in something on TV. Suddenly, she changed her mind. Instead of going straight to her room, Daphne walked to the hall closet. There she found Dr. Crane's expensive linens. Buried underneath them was an old quilt, one that Daphne remembered Mr. Crane saying his wife had knitted. She'd done it while she was expecting her firstborn. Though the old man did his best to hide his emotions, Daphne knew he had a great deal of memories wrapped up in this blanket.
Now armed with the quilt, Daphne made her way back out to the living room. Mr. Crane remained in his chair, and the TV was still on. But as she got closer, it was clear he'd once again lost the battle to stay awake. Unable to hide a smile, Daphne gently covered him with the blanket as he slept. Then, she kissed his cheek. "I love you, old man," she whispered, before finally walking back to her room.
Several hours later, Martin awoke with a start. For a moment, he was confused. This wasn't his bedroom. But then he looked behind him, and saw the sun peeking out over the Space Needle. Oh, right. I fell asleep watching that stupid horror movie, he suddenly remembered. Then he looked down at his lap, noticing that Hester's old quilt covered him. He closed his eyes, running his fingers over the familiar stitching. It almost seemed that Hester was here with him again.
But as his mind began to clear, Martin realized he hadn't gotten up to get the quilt. What the hell, he wondered. It didn't take long to come to the only conclusion possible. He looked in the direction of Daphne's room. Son, you better make a move on that woman soon, he thought. I don't think she's going to be single forever.
The End