The arrival of the two women an hour later was announced loudly by Fred and Ginger. Oscar could tell immediately that Jaime had worked her particular magic. They both wore the look of women who had enjoyed a good cathartic gossip, and he couldn't help but wonder how much his foibles had been used as social lubricant. Best not to think about it, he decided.

Jaime clapped her hands together at the prospect of tennis, and immediately headed to the bedroom to change, Oscar following behind her. She chose the sole skirt in her suitcase, preferring it to her somewhat binding jeans. Oscar, already in his multi-purpose uniform of khaki pants and pale blue button down shirt, threw himself on the bed and folded his hands behind his head.

"You won her over, didn't you?"

"I believe I did." She lifted her chin and gave him a satisfied smile.

"That's my girl - I knew you would. So…what was the problem, anyway -if you can tell me, that is?"

"Oh...she was just looking out for you, in an odd way."

He rolled his eyes.

"You know," Jaime said, contemplating a loose, casual blouse, "being an only child it's hard for me to relate… but I always get the feeling that sibling relationships get set on day one, and then stay like that forever. She's your big sister - she frets about you, thinks you can't take care of yourself, and you roll your eyes."

"That's probably true." Oscar nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe it's time I grew out of that."

"Maybe. Do you think you could?"

"I don't know." Oscar said, frowning thoughtfully. "Can't hurt me to try."

And... did you accomplish your mission?" Jaime asked, sitting on the bed beside him, fixing her hair into a ponytail. "I'm dying to know."

"I did. I went to talk to Bruce...I had no idea where to start and he just offered it up - right away. He and Carol had been planning a surprise party for Dennis and Judy because their birthdays are on the same day."

Jaime laughed. "Perfect! And you're convinced that's one hundred percent the reason for the secret visits?"

"I'm convinced."

"Boy, is that a relief!"

"And I had a little talk with Katie." he added.

"You did?" She gasped, her eyes wide, "I hope you didn't..."

"No, I did not talk to her like she was a hardened old OSI agent." he interrupted. "I was very gentle and careful and she seemed better afterward. You'll see for yourself."

"Well. I am impressed!" Jaime replied, patting his chest.

"And then Bruce talked to her."

"Oh good. I guess you're not the boss for nothing, huh?" She leaned down to kiss him. "Oh -" she added, "I hope you don't mind, but we're taking everybody out for dinner tonight."

"Are we now?" He put arms around her and gave her a squeeze. "That's a good idea. I'm all for it. Oh...I have my own confession."

"What?"

"We're uh...buying a coffee table from Bruce. He'll make us whatever we want. We should talk to him about it."

"A coffee table? Really?" Jaime mused. "How did that happen?"

"Let's just say it represents a momentary lapse in courage on my part."

"So…if you were really feeling timid you would have ordered us up some bedside tables too? Because that's what we really need."

"I'm sure that could be arranged."

"If we need a new couch I'll be sure to throw you into some really delicate social situation. This is good to know."

"You've got my number Babe."

The moment they opened their bedroom door they could hear the sound of domestic unrest burgeoning in the kitchen – and judging by the high whining sound, it had something to do with Katie. Oscar was horrified – so soon on the tail of his boast.

"You're too little." Sam spat. "You can hardly even hold the racket."

"Can too!" Katie shot back.

"Honey." Judy said soothingly, "You got to go on a hike with Oscar and Jaime yesterday, and it's Sam's turn to spend some time with them."

"You can be ball boy." Sam offered in a resentful tone.

"I don't want to be ball boy!"

"I think that's a pretty nice offer.' Judy cajoled. "He didn't even want you to come a minute ago."

"How about ball girl?" Jaime suggested from the doorway. "A good ball girl is worth her weight in gold."

All three turned, Judy and Sam with hopeful looks on their faces.

"Really?" Katie asked, her eyes round.

"Uh huh. You have to be athletic too - fast and observant. It's a great way to begin your tennis career. You can watch the game from the side and learn about it. That's how I first got interested in tennis."

"Really?" Katie repeated.

"Yup. I was ball girl for two local tournaments in Ojai when I was ten. You'd make a terrific ball girl, I just know it."

Warmed by the glow of Jaime's approval, she smiled. "Kay."

It was boys against girls - and the game proved to be more intense and competitive than either Oscar or Jaime had imagined. Brenda had taken lessons and had decent skills. Sam was more free form in his style, but he was quick and strong and very determined. When he nearly careened into Oscar for the fourth time in five minutes, Oscar took him by the shoulders.

"Sammy, the point of doubles is that both players hit the ball. If it's coming anywhere near me, you can let me get it, okay?"

"Sorry Uncle Oscar. Brenda always has me running and it's sort of a habit." Sam panted, sweating already. "I just really want to beat them."

Oscar glanced at their competitors. They looked unnervingly calm. "If we're going to have a chance, we've got to keep cool heads."

"Right." Sam said, nodding seriously.

"But you've got to know, kid, she beats me every day of the week."

"Okay." Sam replied with a grin, "I'll try not to cry."

As Oscar filled Sam in on the fundamentals of proper positioning for doubles, Jaime and Brenda waited in perfect assurance that their teamwork was sound.

"You're pretty darned good, Brenda."

"Thanks." the girl replied, her voice clear and plainly audible for the first time since they'd met. Her cheeks were rosy and she was exhilarated. "I'd love any tips you can give me Jaime." Minutes earlier, as they walked to the community center together, Jaime had wondered if she should commiserate with Brenda over her parents' divorce, but now she was glad she hadn't. She remembered herself at sixteen - how she hated the looks of pity and discomfort she saw in the eyes of everyone in Ojai after her mother and father had been killed. All she wanted was for people to be normal around her.

"Let's get 'em." she growled.

Brenda grinned and her eyes sparkled.

Katie squatted attentively on the sidelines, blasting from her position any time a ball settled by the net. She was an excellent ball girl - not once was the server left empty handed. She was not even handed in her loyalties however, rooting loudly for the girls' team, shouting encouragement while celebrating failures on the other side. Oscar and Sam lost the first game badly, edged into respectability in the second, and by the third game they were giving their opponents a run for their money. Sam was a quick learner and responded well to Oscar's coaching.

When Jaime gave Brenda a few minor pointers on forecourt tactics, the women took the lead again and never looked back. Then there was the inevitable moment when Jaime hit the ball too hard. Oscar knew it was coming, because it happened at least once in every time they played. She had always tended to overcompensate on her backhand, but now if she wasn't careful the consequences were alarming. It happened at the point when she was entirely consumed by the game - her jaw set and her eyes blazing. She took a running backhand at the far left and sent the ball back at light speed. Not wanting Sam near it Oscar attempted a return at the net, choking his racket with both hands. He was immediately disarmed, his racket flung to the back of the court, the ball disappearing high in the air overhead.

"Holy..." said Sam, gaping skyward.

"That's what happens when you play with the pros." Oscar said, with a regretful shake of his head.

Jaime received a similar response from Brenda on the other side of the net. She could only shrug. Katie hooted in delight and clapped.

After a strenuous hour and a half, the four players met at the net and shook hands. All of them would need a shower before going out to dinner.

"We will be demanding a rematch." Oscar said sternly.

"And you will regret it." Brenda said, equally sternly, and they all laughed at a joke coming from such an unexpected quarter.

Walking beside him, Oscar observed his nephew from the corner of his eye. The boy was a classic teenage combination of intense selfmconsciousness and perfect un-self consciousness. His hair covered his face and he hunched forward, as though he was trying to hide into himself. His stride was conspicuously long and ungainly, and he bobbed alongside Oscar like a cork on rough water. Oscar knew just how he felt. He remembered all too well what it was like to be overtaken by limbs that seemed to have grown two inches in the night, the pain in his knees sometimes keeping him awake. He'd get out of bed feeling like a baby giraffe rising to its feet for the first time. He was nagged by his father for his tendency to slouch, and now Jaime had picked up where Dad had left off. It seemed one was never entirely free of teenage agonies.

Young Sam had been a source of worry for Judy over the last couple of years - Oscar had heard much about him in the weekly phone calls. He had been impossible when he was fourteen - he had gotten drunk several times with a particularly unsavory friend (once on Creme de Menthe no less - Oscar felt ill to think of it) and his marks suffered. At home he was persistently, silently obstructive. Now he was doing better. He and the unsavory friend had parted ways and he seemed to be enjoying school again. At home he was much easier to be around - if a little quiet. Judy's main concern now was that he was getting too serious with Brenda, and as much as she liked her, they were far too young to be serious.

Oscar regretted not spending more time with him when he was still little. Sam had idolized his uncle when he was seven, but now he could doubtless see him for the disappointing mortal he was.

Unable to come up with any clever means of conversing with him, Oscar asked a question that Sam had doubtless been asked by too many adults already. "So...you have any idea what you're going to do after school, Sam?"

"Well, yeah." Sam replied readily, with a half grin, "but Mom says you won't like me anymore..."

"What?" Oscar frowned.

"Well I think I want to be a journalist, and Mom says you hate journalists."

"I don't hate journalists." Oscar said, trying hard to disguise his irritation. "Your mother gets some peculiar ideas. I admit, I don't love them when I've got one of them on my tail, but otherwise I think it's a fine profession. An important one."

"Really?" Sam asked, looking hopeful.

"Sure. I read the paper like everyone else - it helps me figure out what's going on right under my own nose. I don't know where I'd be without The New York Times every morning. What made you decide on journalism?"

"Career counselor. I was having a hard time figuring out what I might want to do because I was interested in a bunch of things and I couldn't narrow it down. She told me about journalism, because that way you can do it all. She said I'm a good writer too, but I don't know." He shrugged modestly.

"Does it feel right to you?"

"Maybe. I don't know yet. But it sounds kind of cool. I've been thinking about it, doing some reading. And you get to travel too."

"Well, if I can put my two cents worth in, just make sure you're passionate about it. It doesn't really matter what you do, as long as you love it."

Sam nodded soberly. "Are you passionate about your work?"

"Mmm..." Oscar said, casting his eyes upward. "I have been. Some would say obsessive. Now I think I have... a new passion." He tilted his head in the direction of Jaime, walking with Brenda just behind them.

Sam nodded again, smiling a little. "She's really cool." he said.

"She is really cool." Oscar agreed.

He put his arm around the young man's slender shoulders. "And while I'm dispensing free advice, may I suggest you take a little while after school, maybe see the world, enjoy your freedom? I didn't do that and I regret it."

"Yeah, I was kind of thinking I wanted to go to Europe."

"Well, if you end up in DC –as it seems to me every young journalist ought to - you're more than welcome to stay with us."

"Really?" Sam asked, apparently amazed. He was moved once again to use his universal term for all things admirable. "Cool."