Amos took a last sip of coffee, glanced at his watch and gave a quiet sigh. Four hours of shift left to go, and probably another hour on top of it by the time he finished . . . On impulse he took his phone out and thumbed through the voicemail list. The newest one was from his daughter. She had some additions to the shopping list, no doubt. The other two were several days old. He had debated deletion, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

After another hesitation he opened the first message and listened to it, then the second one. Both were short, to the point, and delivered with a harsh urgency that brought a reluctant smile to his lips. He remembered that tone well.

Before he could think twice about it, he hit speed dial and waited. It was early, but he knew his caller was often awake into the small hours.

It was picked up on the second ring. "Took you long enough."

"Doctor House." Amos sat back in his chair.

"Come work for me." A brief silence fell. "You don't have to think about this. Just do it."

"You don't need a nurse."

"Let me decide that for myself." House sounded sharp, but under it was a subtle desperation that caught at Amos.

"You were doing well when you left. What's changed?" The realization hit as he spoke. "You decided to get a prosthesis." House said nothing. "Doctor House, I'm not a physical therapist—"

"Don't need one."

Amos scrubbed a hand over his face. "You kinda do. And you've got nurses in Princeton."

"You know me." House said it with reluctance. "You . . . you can put up with me. I need someone who can do that."

He knows no one else would put up with him. The question is, can I? "How long's the gig?"

"A year, minimum. Wilson said he'd help you find a place."

"I have a kid. I need to talk this over with her."

House snorted. "Kids go with the parental units."

"I'd be taking her away from everything she knows. It's a big step. She has a say." Amos glanced at his watch. "Give me twenty-four hours."

"Twelve."

"Twenty-four." He stood. "Have to go. Talk to you soon," but the call had already been ended from House's side.

For the rest of his shift and through the journey home he pushed the offer to the back of his mind. To be truthful, he found it overwhelming on several points. That made him anxious, a state of mind he detested.

So he did his shopping, caught the transfer bus just in time, and came home to an empty apartment. Of course the girl was at school, but at least she'd left the place clean, more or less. A note lay on the table: spaghetti for dinner tonight pleeeeez.. He smiled a little and put the groceries away, made a batch of sauce with fresh tomatoes, olive oil and herbs, and took himself off to bed. He thought he'd toss and turn, but the moment his head hit the pillow he was out.

The fragrance of garlic and cooked pasta woke him out of a vivid dream that faded as he came to consciousness. He lay in bed and listened to the sound of his daughter in the kitchen as she sang along with her playlist. After a time he got up and headed for the shower.

"We need to talk," he said after dinner was finished. Kesha paused as she picked up his plate. She set it down, took a seat, and waited. "I've been offered a job."

"Is it better for you than the one you have now?"

"It could be. It would also mean we move to Princeton." He lifted his gaze to hers. "We make this decision together."

"I've already put in my applications to State and Columbia."

"You could live with your mother." He knew she'd refuse.

"We wouldn't last two days." Kesha tilted her head a bit. "Nice try."

"Yeah, I know." He played with his water glass. "Had to ask."

"So where would you work?"

"Not where. Who." He gave her the basics. At the end Kesha sat back and folded her arms.

"Can you trust this guy? He sounds like Sheldon Cooper."

Amos had to smile. "He's a gifted physician. They can be on the weird side sometimes. But I trust him, at least on the offer." To his surprise he found it was true.

"Why do you want to work for him?" Kesha's gaze was steady, measuring.

"I'm not sure. I could say it's an honor but that's debatable. Let's say it's more like I'm intrigued by the offer and what it could give both of us."

"Okay . . . what does that mean?"

Amos took a sip of water before he spoke. "Doctor House is known world-wide as a premier diagnostician. Doctor Wilson is the head of pediatric oncology at Princeton-Plainsboro. Both of them are excellent references. And they could be an in for you, if you decide to go to medical school."

Kesha shook her head. "That's a big assumption on your part, Dad. You don't know that they'll be willing to help out."

"True. But it's worth a try." He set down his glass. "Think about it."

"How long?"

"You've got till tomorrow." He smiled as she rolled her eyes. "Thanks for making dinner. You heat up a great sauce."

"Flattery won't help." But when she took his plate, she put her hand on his shoulder for a moment.

When he went out later that evening the weather was miserable, cold and rainy. At least the bus stop wasn't too crowded. Amos huddled under his umbrella and thought about the offer. If he took it, maybe he could finally get a vehicle of some kind. And a home—not to own, but even a rental would be okay.

Blue skies. The wry thought made him shake his head as his bus lumbered into view. Anyway, he could let it sit at the back of his mind while he worked. For tonight, it would be good enough.

At the end of shift he stopped off in the breakroom and checked his phone. A text from Kesha sat at the top of the queue. It had one word. Amos looked at it for a few moments. Then he thumbed the speed dial.

"Doctor House? The answer is yes."