Present Day, Maui News Office, Kahului, Maui, 8:00 a.m.

Tom Derek, editor-in-chief of Maui News, leaned out his office door. "Hey, Bill, can I see you for a minute?"

Bill Wise looked up from his desk, grabbed a notebook and pen, then headed for Tom's office. Bill, a very emotional man, had earlier sent Tom two drafts of stories he had put together over the weekend. The first was his assignment: a review of Maui retirement communities. The second, however, was a story Bill wrote on his own intuition, the tale of one of the residents he met, a wonderful human interest piece about a voyage around the world. He worried that he might have made a fool of himself submitting such a story, since his editor had not asked for it. He nervously tapped on the doorframe, then stepped hesitantly into the office.

Tom looked up from his desk and waved him in. "Take a seat," Tom said, then glanced back at his computer screen.

Bill slid into one of two chairs in front of Tom's desk and tried to read the expression on his face. His stomach turned in knots, the same feeling he'd had when his eighth grade teacher use to call on him to do an algebra equation on the blackboard.

Tom looked up from the computer and sat back in his chair.

All of the sudden, Bill began to feel nauseous. Did I botch my first assignment? He worried. The assignment had seemed relatively simple, and he feared that maybe he should have put more into it.

"I looked over your piece on the retirement communities," Tom said in a low voice, wearing a look of dissatisfaction. "It was okay. We'll run it after you finalize it."

Wait. Just ... okay? Bill sank even lower in the chair.

"While you covered all the points I wanted, I could tell your heart wasn't in it. I admit that it's not the kind of story that stir's a man's blood, but see if you can breathe a little more soul into it in your final draft. Take the next hour or two and finish it up, then let me take one more look. Also, Bill, next time, give your assignment all you've got, and don't go racing off on another story without completing the one I asked for."

Bill's hands and feet began to sweat.

"Speaking of the second story, though, the one about this old Skiles fella ... Well, that was a damn good story! I love it! In fact, we're gonna feature it in our Sunday edition. You did the right thing following your instincts this time, but remember that your instincts may not always be right. After you finish the piece on the retirement communities, there are two things I want you to do."

"Yes?" Bill said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "First, finish your report on Skiles. Second, see if he'll tell you the rest of the story. I'm on the edge of my seat, wondering how it all wraps up."

"Really?" Bill said, sitting up in astonishment.

"Yeah, really. Now get outta here ... and, Bill ..."

"Yes?" Bill asked, standing.

"Nice work."

"Thanks, Boss," Bill said, then quickly turned and walked out of the office.

He really couldn't believe his luck, but deep down, he had known all along that the Skiles story was worth it. He floated across the newsroom floor and found himself typing away before he even realized it. He stopped, took a deep breath, collected himself, then tried to concentrate on the retirement story. Within an hour, he had completed the final draft. Tom's enthusiastic comments about his second story were contagious, and it helped breathe new life into the first. Bill felt much better about it as he pushed the send key.

He looked at his screen for a second, then opened his file drawer and pulled a file marked, "Skiles." He placed it on his desk, opened it, and looked down at the telephone number he'd written there. His watch told him it was 11:00 a.m., and he was sure that, with any luck, he could catch Skiles before he left for lunch.

When the phone rang in Bane Skiles's apartment, the old man laid down the book he was reading and wheeled himself over to answer it. "Yeah?" he said, with the phone snug against his ear.

"Mr. Skiles, this is Bill Wise, with Maui News."

"Who?"

"Bill Wise, from the News. Remember me? I was at your birthday party."

Bane paused, then said, "Oh yeah! The newspaper fellow."

"Yes, that's right," Bill replied. "Mr. Skiles, our paper would like to run your story as the Sunday feature. At your party, you mentioned that there was more to the story, so I was wondering if you'd be willing to tell me the rest." Bill held his breath, knowing the old man could easily refuse.

Skiles paused, then finally said, "Sure. How about tomorrow, around 8:00 a.m., in the community center reception hall?"

"Did you say 8:00?" Bill asked.

"Yes."

"Sure. I'll be there."

"Okay. Bring a dozen donuts and a half-gallon container of coffee with cups."

"Will do," Bill excitedly replied, not really thinking about what he was agreeing to. "I'll see you at 8:00 a.m." When he hung up, he did a little happy dance, then stopped and suddenly wondered why the old man had requested so many donuts and so much coffee. "Oh well," he said to himself. "If that's what the old guy wants, that's what the old guy will get! I'm about to do a Sunday feature!"

* * *

Tuesday morning, Bill pulled into a visitor's parking spot at the Kalama Retirement Community. He shut off the car and grabbed the box of donuts, a big jug of coffee, some cups, and sugar and creamer, then carefully slid out of his seat with his arms full. He closed the door with a swing of his hip, then walked toward the front lobby doors. He smiled up at the crystal-blue sky and noticed the colorful flowers about the entrance and the ornate metal columns that supported the large overhang in front of the building. He carefully grabbed the front door handle with his free right hand and pulled hard, then stepped into the lobby. "Hi. I'm Bill Wise, with Maui News," he said to the receptionist. "I'm here to see Mr. Bane Skiles."

"Sure," she answered with a smile. "They're already waiting for you in the reception hall. Please follow me." She stood from her chair and led him down the hall.

They? Bill thought, wondering who he was about to meet, since Skiles hadn't mentioned any guests at their meeting.

The room was large, with off-white walls and red floral wallpaper here and there, true mid-70s décor, a detail Bill had missed on his last visit. Several tables and chairs neatly sat about the room, readied for the next event. In the far corner sat four people, and Bill recognized them at once: old man Skiles, his son David, his daughter June, and Suzanna Baker, the retirement community manager. Bill had taken her out for a quick dinner after the old man's birthday party the week before. That meal had ended on a conformable note, and he'd actually been contemplating calling her for a date. Now, since she was an invited guest, he wished he'd have thought to douse himself with cologne. God knows I can use all the help I can get, he thought, looking at her with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hi, folks," Bill said as he laid the donuts and coffee on the table next to them. "I wasn't expecting ... everyone."

"Dad called yesterday afternoon and invited us over. Is it all right?" June responded.

"Sure," Bill said, smiling again as he glanced at Suzanna. "And how are you?" he said.

"I'm fine," she replied, returning a grin of her...