"Come now," the elderly woman beckoned as she led Lionel and the group into the living room. "There's plenty of beds for most of you… well, there should be. My husband and I only have enough guest beds for five people, tops."

Ike gulped. "What about the rest of us? Where do you expect us to sleep?"

"On the other furniture, I guess. Our house wasn't exactly designed with thirty-two guests in mind."

"Damn."

Bitsy and Helen just looked at each other, concerned. Ike, on the other hand, sighed; and Lionel shrugged.

"It's not a big deal," Lionel assured the group. "We'll figure something out."

"I certainly hope so," Bitsy replied. "How the hell are we supposed to stay here when there are only five guest beds?"

Before Lionel could respond to that question, the elderly woman suddenly beamed up upon hearing her husband wake up from his nap.

"Oh, good. It's about time you got up, George." The elderly woman hurried over to him and helped him sit up. "It's almost time for dinner. Let's go."

George groaned as he rubbed his eyes. "I must have dozed off. What time is it, Marlene?"

"It's almost six," Marlene replied, giving him a concerned look. "Are you feeling alright?"

George nodded and slowly got to his feet. "I think so. I could really use some food right now." He followed her to the dining room where a delicious aroma filled the air. "I hope you made your favorite again."

"I sure did. Just sit down."

The table was set with a steaming pot roast, mashed potatoes, and green beans. George's stomach growled as he took his seat. Marlene then proceeded to serve him, Lionel, Ike, Bitsy, and Helen a heaping plate of food and they began to eat.

Like his wife, George couldn't help but get this feeling that there was something strangely familiar about Bitsy... perhaps a little too familiar. He couldn't help but wonder if she was a remnant of something he'd left behind in his past. He pushed the thought aside, determined to enjoy his meal and not let his suspicions ruin it. He then thanked Marlene for the delicious meal and made his way back to the living room, leaving Lionel and the other three guests to finish their meals.

Bitsy immediately caught on to the fact that George bore an uncanny resemblance to Hayato Hamaguchi, the man she now knew to be her great-grandfather. Could it be… that this actually was him? She did remember Konala saying that no one could find his body after his home had burned down all those years ago. Was it possible that Hayato faked his own death so he could start a new life in San Jose as George? She felt like she had the answer, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. She felt a mixture of emotions, from sadness and relief to anger and confusion. She needed time to think, to process what she was feeling.

As they ate, Marlene started to chat about her day and then asked the guests about their lives, with Lionel and the others telling her everything she needed to know about them. George, on the other hand, remained silent. Marlene tried to engage him in conversation but he was unresponsive.

"George, are you feeling alright?" Marlene asked out of concern.

George looked up from his lap and seemed to hesitate before responding. "I'm fine." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Alright, if you say so…" Marlene was unconvinced, but she decided to drop the subject. "Let's just continue with the meal, shall we?"

She watched George carefully, looking for any sign of discomfort or distress. But George remained still, his face expressionless.

After dinner, everyone cleared their dishes and sat down in the living room. Marlene turned on the television, and she switched to "Who's the Boss?" on ABC. According to Marlene, this was one of her favorite shows she liked to watch with George and their children. She seemed particularly fond of Tony Danza's character, Tony Micelli, as he navigated the ups and downs of being a housekeeper for Judith Light's character, Angela Bower.

Ike chuckled. "You like watching the show very often, Mrs. Hill?"

"Of course," Marlene replied. "I'd rank it up there as one of my all-time favorites. It's a show I can always rely on for a good laugh. It's also a great reminder of simpler times when life was less stressful."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"If you haven't already, you should watch it sometime."

As the night wore on, the guests began to feel more at ease with George and Marlene. They talked and laughed, sharing stories and memories. As they talked, Bitsy still found herself thinking about how she'd put two and two together and figured out that George was Hayato, how he'd faked his death in Hawaii to start a new life here, and how he'd managed to get away with it for about sixty-three years. She felt the urge to say something, but what could she say?

Eventually, after much inner debate, Bitsy decided to take a chance and bring up the subject. "George, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Bitsy," George replied with a smile. "What is it?"

"It's just that, well, I couldn't help but notice that you have a striking resemblance to a man named Hayato who was legally declared dead in Hawaii after his house burned down many years ago. Would you mind telling me why that is?"

"W-What do you mean?"

"Are you Hayato Hamaguchi?"

There was a moment of stunned silence before George finally spoke. "Yes, Bitsy, I am Hayato."

The room fell silent as everyone stared at George in shock.

Marlene put her hand on his shoulder. "George, is this true?"

"Yes, it's true." George took a deep breath before continuing. "I faked my death in Hawaii and started a new life here. I know it was wrong, but I had my reasons."

Bitsy raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

He went on to tell everyone the whole story, starting when he emigrated to Hawaii from the Japanese city of Nagoya in the Chūbu region. He was already an oyabun and had racked up a long rap sheet of crimes when he came to the American territory. While he was married to Queenie, he was often abusive to her, and he would frequently disappear for days at a time without explanation. Eventually, after they'd been married for eleven years, he and Queenie separated but didn't divorce. As George put it, they left the door open for a possible reconciliation. However, shortly after moving into a new house in 1922, his house suddenly went up in flames… or so it seemed. Everything had indeed been destroyed, but George had deliberately set the home ablaze and faked his own death so he wouldn't have to go to prison. He settled down in San Jose shortly afterwards and changed his name to George Hill, and he settled down with Marlene and had children with her. He'd been living a relatively peaceful life ever since, but he never forgot his past, and he often thought about the decisions he had made that had led him down such a dangerous path.

As he finished his story, there were tears in his eyes. "I know better than to think I deserve forgiveness. I've wronged so many people, including Queenie, but there's nothing I can really do now. I hope she's been doing well without me."

"Uh, actually, she died from pancreatic cancer several days ago." The room fell silent and stayed that way for a moment before Bitsy spoke up again. "But if it makes you feel any better, she took over your gang after you left. She also thrived without you."

"How do you know all that?" George asked her.

"It's simple," Bitsy replied. "I'm your great-granddaughter."

George was surprised and speechless. "I…"

"I know." Bitsy just smiled. "I just wanted to let you know how things turned out."

"Well, I never knew about any of that," Marlene interjected. "But I don't care. I still love him regardless of what he did."

George smiled and nodded. "I understand. I'm glad things turned out the way they did. And I'm sure you got closure from this, too."

As the night wore on, everyone laughed and talked, sharing stories and memories, and George and Marlene felt more like themselves than they had in a long time.

As it got late, Marlene decided that it was time to get ready for bed. "It's been lovely having you all here. You should be getting ready for bed, too."

"We will," Lionel replied with a smile. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"You're welcome. Alright, time for bed."

"Okay."