EpilogueEight months passed. On a bright Saturday morning I sat in BoBo's café with Nook and Ramon, except I had a good deal more paraphernalia than usual. This included a diaper bag and stroller and a wee chappie whose name was Ronan James, strapped to my chest like a papoose, sleeping peacefully while burbling in his dreams. He was a redhead and that meant trouble down the road. Ramon had the same get-up except his daughter, Maria Ruiz, remained quite awake and sucked on her chubby little fingers while Nook, Ramon and I quaffed our usual beverages. It felt good actually. Ronan was a good baby, only cried half a dozen times during the night but I had to admit that Mrs. Sanchez had proved a godsend. She fawned over the baby and took care of him during the day as if he were her own grandchi
