J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you so much for continuing to read! Thank you especially to max2013, MargaretA66, Candylou, and ErinJordan for your reviews on the previous chapter! Here is the conclusion!

Chapter XXVII

Frank turned off the ignition and set the brake, but he didn't make a move to get out of his seat. Instead, he stared straight ahead until Callie reached over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked at her and she tried to smile, but her eyes were already red-rimmed.

"I don't know if I can do this," Frank admitted. "I never thought I'd have to."

"I know," Callie replied. "You'll be okay."

It had been eleven days since that horrible day. Fenton and Laura had returned to California the day after. Then, exactly a week ago today, Jack Wayne had flown them all home, including Phil. They had gotten the permission to transport Tony home. The Pritos had met them at the airport. It had been an honor that Frank didn't think he deserved to escort Tony home one last time. He still felt he was culpable for the tragedy. He could see from the way they acted that Joe and Callie felt the same way.

The Pritos didn't seem to think so. They had practically brushed of the apologies all three tried to offer them. In fact, Frank almost felt like they were the ones attempting to comfort him, instead of the other way around. He had been glad to get home, fall into his own bed, and sleep late into the next morning. Then the Pritos had done something that shocked him even more. They had actually asked him to be a pallbearer. At first, Frank had tried to refuse, but they had been adamant that they wanted Tony's six closest friends. In the end, Frank had agreed. He found out later that Joe had had the exact same experience.

So it was now the day of the funeral. The sun was shining, but there was still something solemn in the air. Maybe it was the early autumn chill that was creeping into it. In any case, Frank and Callie were parked in the lot at Our Lady Star of the Sea church. Frank was dressed in a black suit and tie, while Callie had put on a simple black knee-length dress. Frank was glad that his arm was out of the sling now, at least. Both he and Callie thought that they wouldn't last five minutes without crying, and they didn't want to be in the midst of all the people who would be here. Finally, however, they summoned up the nerve to go inside.

The first person they saw inside was Joe. He was also wearing a black suit and he had gotten his hair cut, which made him look more like his old self, before he had gone to California. Yet, with the grieved expression on his face, he looked older. He was standing in a group with Phil, Chet Morton, Biff Hooper, and Jerry Gilroy. Chet and Biff both still lived in Bayport, but Jerry had moved away soon after graduating high school. It had been the first blow to break up their old "gang." Of course, he could still stay in touch and visit now and then, and once or twice after graduation, all seven of them had managed to get together again. With a new wave of sorrow, Frank realized that they would never be able to again.

He and Callie went up to the others, who were all dressed in suits as they were the pallbearers. They greeted Frank in subdued tones. Immediately, a middle-aged man approached them.

"You're Frank?" he asked. "Good. You're all here now. If you don't mind, I'd like you all to stay right here. We still have about half an hour, but the last thing we need is to be scrambling around, trying to find one of you at the last minute."

"Funeral director," Biff explained as the man hurried away to attend to some other detail.

"So I figured," Frank replied. "Where are the Pritos? I'd like to talk to them."

"I don't know," Chet said. "They probably just needed some space."

Frank nodded, and they all fell silent. It was obvious where all their thoughts were at, since Frank saw several surreptitious attempts to wipe away tears while pretending to scratch noses or foreheads. He wished they hadn't had to get here so early. This was awful, standing around and waiting and trying not to cry while other people were all around them. Not only that, but it felt awkward to be standing there in a group like that without saying anything.

Jerry was the one to break the silence. "So, how's the investigation into this going?"

Frank looked at Joe, hoping he would answer the question, but from the expression on Joe's face, Frank guessed that he was hoping it would be Frank. Resigned, Frank cleared his throat, knowing that his voice would by husky if he didn't. "Not so great. We know Angelo did it, obviously, but he escaped. The police detective handling the case, Captain Gomez, started a huge manhunt for him. He's got police all over the west coast, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah looking for him, but there hasn't been a trace. Angelo apparently knows how to cover his tracks."

"But he's not going to get away," Joe spoke up, looking Frank in the eye.

Frank shook his head. "No, he isn't."

"I don't understand why he did it," Biff said. "You guys said you gave him the ransom. What else did he want?"

Neither Joe nor Frank answered. They kept their eyes downcast. Callie did look up at Biff and looked as if she would like to say something, but all she did was take in a breath and then let it out again and remain silent.

It was Phil who managed to speak up. "Who knows? Nothing he did made sense to me."

"But how?" Chet burst out. "I mean, with you guys working on the case, how…?" He dropped the question abruptly, realizing it wasn't quite coming out the way he intended.

"I'm sure they did everything they could, Chet," Jerry spoke up.

"Of course they did," Phil added.

"Sure," Joe said suddenly. He had had his arms crossed, but now he dropped them to his sides. "And it wasn't good enough."

He took a few steps away, so that the others couldn't comfortably speak to him. The others looked at him with varying expressions, although the predominant ones were surprise and sympathy.

"I didn't mean…" Chet began.

"I know you didn't mean it," Frank cut him off. "The thing is, whether you meant it or not, it's true. No matter what way you look at it, this happened because of us. Joe and me. Tony paid the price for our mistakes."

He turned and walked toward Joe. Callie glanced at the other young men for an instant, and then followed her husband.

Biff let out a long breath. "So, um, should we do something about that or…"

"I didn't mean to say that this was their fault," Chet insisted.

"They didn't need someone saying it," Phil replied. "They've been going round and round about this since Tony got kidnapped." He leaned heavily against the wall. This was hard enough without having to worry about the Hardys' personal hang-ups. The worst part was that Phil wasn't entirely convinced that they were wrong. If he could say with honesty that nothing they had done or failed to do had caused the tragedy to happen, it would be one thing, but he couldn't say that. In truth, both of them had made mistakes that had contributed toward it, but they weren't omniscient. They didn't know what the full consequences of their actions would be or what would be the best choice out of multiple legitimate choices. And Phil was certain that they had done everything in good faith, believing it was the best option to try to rescue Tony.

"I think we had better do something," Jerry said. "I don't know what, but we need to do something."

They all fell silent for a few minutes. They agreed with Jerry on both points: they needed to do something and none of them had any idea what.

After awhile, Biff shook his head. "I never thought something like this was going to happen. I always figured that, even if some of us moved away and whatever, we'd all still be getting together now and then when we were old and talk about the good ol' days and how the new generation was the worst and all that kind of thing. I never even thought about…going to…any of you guys'…funerals." He cleared his throat and started blinking rapidly as he turned away out of instinct to hide any tears.

Chet breathed a heavy sigh. "Yeah, me neither. I'm really going to miss him."

HBHBHBHBHB

Joe felt rather than saw Frank and Callie approach him from behind. He was leaning against a table where the Pritos had set up a whole display of photos of Tony. Joe was staring at one of Tony with his sisters that had probably been taken the last time Tony had visited home. The girls had trapped him in a big group hug that he was playfully trying to escape from while they were all laughing.

"I don't know why the Pritos asked us to do this," Joe said to Frank. "If it wasn't for us, nobody would have to be doing this." He shook his head. "No, if it wasn't for me. You were doing what Gomez said. I should have kept out of it. It's not like I have some inherent right to solve every mystery that comes near me just because my name's Hardy. When the police told me to keep out of it, I should have kept out."

"No, not entirely," Frank said. "We should have let you help to try to negotiate with Angelo. We could have…I don't know. Lulled him into a false security and trapped him or something, maybe. Maybe that wouldn't have worked, either. But we should have tried. I don't blame Gomez. He was just doing his best with the information he had. If I would have told him that he could trust you, he would have, but I didn't."

"You were right that he couldn't."

Frank shook his head. "No. I was just being stubborn and selfish. Stupid, really. I'll admit, I've been pretty uptight about you for the last year or so. I knew we could trust you, but I convinced myself we couldn't. I'm sorry. For everything I said and did."

"Forget it. I've been a lot worse," Joe replied.

"You know," Callie spoke up, "it's really mostly my fault. It was my idea to go out there and meet with Angelo. If we wouldn't have done that, or at least, if we would have called you, Frank, and Captain Gomez, then this definitely wouldn't have happened."

"You didn't tie me up and force me to go out there, Callie," Joe said. "I should have known better."

"And I shouldn't have made you two think that going behind my back was the only thing you could do," Frank insisted.

"So we all messed up," Callie said.

Joe let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "You know, they say sharing the blame is supposed to make it easier. It doesn't. I wouldn't wish sharing the blame in this on my worst enemy."

"But that is who has the blame."

The voice came from behind them and startled them. They turned around to see Tony's sister, Lisa, standing there.

She looked slightly embarrassed. "I know. Eavesdropping is a bad habit of mine. But I meant what I said. I don't know that Angelo is your worst enemy, I guess, but he does deserve all the blame for this."

"I don't know about that," Frank replied.

"I do. Maybe you could have stopped him and maybe not, but he definitely could have stopped himself." Lisa's eyes filled with fresh tears. "None of us are blaming you. Please don't blame yourselves. That's not what Tony would have wanted."

Callie reached out and gave her a hug. "I'm so sorry. This is hard enough for us, but I can only imagine how it must be for you."

Lisa's eyes focused on one of the photos instead of on any of the Hardys. "Yeah. At least you guys were all always good friends with Tony. I wasted so much arguing with him and not speaking to him."

"That comes with the territory with being siblings," Joe said.

"Not like us. You know how it was. Tony and Maria and Katherine never fought like that with each other, and I've never seen you two fight at all."

Frank and Joe glanced at one another. In a different time and space, they would have seen humor in the comment.

"You made up," Frank reminded her. "That's the main thing."

"I know, but it wasn't soon enough. We had so little time…" Lisa closed her eyes and bit her lip.

Callie placed a hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do to change it now. If Tony wouldn't want us blaming ourselves, I'm sure he would want you beating yourself up about that even less."

"Callie, would you sit with me?" Lisa asked suddenly, turning to look at her. "Please? I think it would help."

"I, uh…" Callie hesitated and glanced at Frank before she made up her mind. "All right. If you want me to."

"I do." Lisa checked her phone. "It's almost time. We have to process in, but I'll show you where to sit."

"Will you be okay?" Callie asked Frank.

"Go ahead," he told her.

The two young women hurried off with Lisa leading the way. Frank and Joe didn't have time for any more discussion or reflection, as the funeral director arrived within moments, pointing out where everyone needed to go. Frank, Joe, and the other four friends found their place easily enough, although none of them could approach the coffin without a strange feeling inside. The Pritos had picked an old-fashioned pine one, which was a little less intimidating in some ways than most of the other styles of coffins they had seen. Yet at the same time, it drove home more poignantly somehow how real and final this was.

The next hour and a half passed in a sort of daze. Each of the young men tried to focus on the words that were being spoken and the hymns that were being sung—they did notice that both of these were quite beautiful—or else to try to pray, but their thoughts refused to turn to much of anything besides their grief. Then there was the service at the graveside. A slight wind had sprung up, making it just the tiniest bit colder than was comfortable for how most people were dressed. Neither Frank nor Joe nor any of their friends noticed it.

Everyone gathered here wherever they found a place to stand, so it felt a little less formal. Callie, Fenton, Laura, and Aunt Gertrude came to stand by Frank and Joe once the boys' task was completed. It was good to have them there.

It was during the service that Joe saw Iola there for the first time. She was standing instead of sitting in her wheelchair, although she was leaning on her father's arm. The sight of her in a long black and white dress took his breath away and for an instant, he found himself thinking of something besides Tony. It only lasted an instant before he thought, There's another person I've lost out of my life because of what an idiot I've been.

When the service was concluded, the Hardys made their way to where the Pritos were being inundated with friends and family who wanted to give their condolences. The Hardys were willing to wait for an opening, but Tony's dad, Dominic, excused himself and came to meet them, and his wife, Teresa, and their daughters managed to follow. Of all their friends' parents, Frank and Joe had always thought that the Pritos were among the least intimidating, but right now, they realized they were bracing themselves.

Frank cleared his throat and spoke up first. "Mr. and Mrs. Prito and Lisa and Maria and Katherine, I know there's nothing any of us could ever say or do to make…"

He was cut off when Dominic surprised him by giving him a hug. Then he turned to give one to Joe, while Teresa also hugged each of the boys, as well as their parents, aunt, and Callie.

"There's no need to say anything," Dominic told them. "We know you tried to save him. We can't ask more than that."

"Tony always thought the world of you two," Teresa added. "You and the others were the brothers he never had."

A dozen arguments for how that didn't change the fact that both Frank and Joe had made mistakes which had led to the disastrous ending of the case occurred to the Hardy boys, but they didn't say them aloud. It was bad enough that Tony's parents evidently felt the need to comfort them without arguing with them on top of it.

"We're so sorry," Joe said. "I know that doesn't even begin to cover it, but no other words would, either. Tony was like a brother to me, too." He looked at Maria and Katherine, who hadn't said a word yet. "I know he really was your brother and nobody else can ever take his place or even try, but if you ever need a big brother sort of thing, like someone to take a look at your car or help you with homework or anything like that, you can always call on me."

"That goes for me, too," Frank added.

"Thanks," Katherine said, although she kept her eyes downcast.

Maria tried to force a smile. "We might just take you guys up on that sometime."

Other mourners started to press in to offer their condolences, and the Hardys backed off. There was going to be a dinner afterwards, but none of them felt like eating, so they had planned to leave right after the burial. While they were trying to make their way surreptitiously to their vehicles, Joe noticed someone else he knew.

"Shaun?" he said, approaching his former roommate. "You came all the way out here?"

Shaun shrugged. "'Of course I did. I mean, obviously I would. Yeah. Anyway, I had to bring Axel out here. I'm going to have to move out of that apartment, and finding a new one is going to be hard enough without trying to find one that'll take a German shepherd."

"Are you going to ask the Pritos if they want him?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, and if they don't, I was wondering if you'd take him or maybe Phil. You guys always got along with him better than I did."

"I'd like to take him, if the Pritos can't or don't want to," Joe said, "but I don't think I'm really in a position to right now. I'm going to have to be looking for a place, too, once I decide where I'm even going and…"

"If you want him, Joe, you can keep him," Laura spoke up. "He can stay at our house until you find a place where you can keep him."

"Good," Shaun said. "I'll kind of miss him, though. The last one of my roommates."

"Are you keeping a full-grown German shepherd in a hotel room?" Aunt Gertrude asked abruptly. "How did you find one that would let you do that?"

"Oh, well, I maybe, sort of didn't tell them, exactly," Shaun admitted.

Aunt Gertrude shook her head disapprovingly. "And where is he now? If you left him alone in that hotel room and housekeeping finds him…"

"No, he's in the car I rented," Shaun told her.

"And I suppose you didn't tell the rental company that you'd be chauffeuring a giant dog in their car, either," Aunt Gertrude said.

"Well…"

Fenton chuckled slightly. "Maybe we'd better take him with us right now, no matter what the Pritos decide."

Shaun showed the way to his rental car and opened the door to let Axel bound out. He went straight to Joe, licking his hand and wagging his tail so hard it looked like it would fall off.

"I'd say he missed you, Joe," Laura commented.

Joe scratched the dog's ears. "Possibly. You can come to our house—my parents' house, that is—too, if you want to, Shaun."

"Sure. Maybe later. I want to talk to Phil, too, and Tony's folks. I'll catch up with you again before I leave town."

Frank and Callie followed the others back to Fenton and Laura's house. As soon as he was inside, Axel started looking all over, sniffing everything.

"It's a little bit bigger than that apartment, pal," Joe told him. He meant to say it lightly, but thinking back on those days of being crowded into that apartment reminded him once again of what had happened, and his throat tightened yet again.

"He's probably half-starved," Aunt Gertrude commented. "Bring him in the kitchen and we'll see if we can find him something to eat."

"I'm sure there's no dog food around here," Joe said, as he followed her toward the kitchen with Axel at his side. "I'll have to go buy some."

"Nonsense," Gertrude replied. "Dog food is mostly corn and soy these days. It's not fit to feed a dog. A dog ought to have real meat."

"But, Aunt Gertrude," Joe protested, "Do you have any idea how much feeding him real meat is going to cost?"

The hall door closing behind them cut off the rest of the conversation from the other Hardys' ears. They chuckled slightly, glad to have some levity, if only for a fleeting moment. It didn't take long for memories of the last weeks to settle on them again.

"I had wondered if Mario would come," Laura commented after a few moments. "I saw him there, but we didn't have a chance to talk to him. Was the young woman with him his sister? She's grown up quite a bit."

"Yeah, that was Belle," Frank confirmed. "Their uncle was there, too. I don't know who the other guy with them was." He said it listlessly; he really didn't care.

"This must be really hard for them," Laura went on. "I can't even imagine."

"They're not responsible for Angelo's actions," Fenton said.

They fell silent again, although they could hear the sound of Joe and Gertrude talking in the kitchen. Then the doorbell echoed through the house, making them all jump.

"I wonder who that is," Fenton said as he went to answer the door, wishing whoever it was had picked a different time to come calling.

He checked the peephole first before opening the door, and Frank saw the look of surprise pass over his face. Then he opened the door. The man on the doorstep was unfamiliar to the two women, but Frank recognized him at once. He tensed slightly.

"Hello, Mr. Wight," Fenton greeted the man, a slight stiffness in his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I imagine not," the man replied in a British accent. "I didn't call beforehand, after all."

Fenton stepped aside and he walked in.

"You remember my son, Frank, of course," Fenton said. "This is my wife, Laura, and my daughter-in-law, Callie. This is Edmund Wight. He's a British agent whom we met in Asia a couple of years ago."

Edmund Wight inclined his head slightly. "At your service, ladies. I hope you will pardon the intrusion on such a sorrowful day as this, and I hope you will forgive me if I borrow your respective husbands for a few minutes."

At that moment, the door to the kitchen opened and both Joe and Aunt Gertrude emerged, with Axel beside them. The dog uttered a low warning growl at the stranger.

"Ah, Joseph. Good. I had hoped to speak with you, too," Wight said.

Joe cringed slightly at the use of his full name. "What are you doing here?"

"I have things to discuss with you, your father, and your brother. Now. Is there somewhere private we can go?"

Fenton led them to his home office and closed the door once all four men had entered. Wight sat comfortably in one of the chairs, but none of the Hardys relaxed.

"You called me a few weeks ago, Fenton," Wight began. "I hope you'll forgive me for using first names, but you do all have the same last name."

"I don't think it bothers any of us," Fenton said. "I did call you about Black Rose. I assume you have some information."

"Yes, I do. I have been monitoring Black Rose's movements carefully for a number of years now, as far as is possible. An underground contact was able to communicate with Beretta."

All three Hardys fixed their attention firmly on him.

"It would seem that Beretta's intended treachery hasn't escaped the notice of his superiors. It hardly surprises me. His behavior of late has been far too erratic not to be noticed. He's on the run from Black Rose."

"How did your contact learn this?" Frank asked.

"My contact has been cultivating Beretta's confidence for the last year or so. Beretta apparently thought he could trust this individual, so he confessed it himself."

"If your contact spoke with him, why isn't he under arrest?" Joe demanded.

"The contact was in no position to do so without revealing their own cover," Wight replied calmly. "Even notifying any authorities would have spoiled it since Beretta would know who had done so. Don't worry. We'll get Beretta. You should be more concerned for your own safety."

"What do you mean?" Fenton asked.

"We have intelligence that Black Rose still has contracts out on all of you. Not just you three, but also the three ladies downstairs. Staying here, where it's well-known that you live, is the most dangerous thing you can do right now. The main purpose of my visit is to offer you help in relocating to a safe place until this is over."

"Until what's over?" Joe retorted.

"Black Rose, of course. Until the entire organization has been done away with. Until then, none of you are safe for even a single moment."

"But that could take years," Frank protested. "It could take the rest of our lives. I'm not going to hide."

"What about your wife? As I said, she is a target, as well."

"She wouldn't want to hide, either," Frank insisted. "Not indefinitely. Besides, we can be more help working on exposing and stopping Black Rose."

"No," Wight said it matter-of-factly. "There you are mistaken. Those parts of the intelligence community interested in Black Rose have paid close attention to your performance of late, and they are not impressed. We have Fenton who is suffering from PTSD which worsens whenever one of his sons is in any kind of danger and clouds his judgment so that we have simple wastes of time like your recent trip to Florida or truly disastrous results, such as your insistence on using snipers to stop those two kids with the romantic notion that they were a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde. Fortunately for what's left of your reputation, Joe stopped the whole thing, although his refusal to work with authorities on it, his subsequent quitting of detective work to take a minimum wage job while partying every weekend, and other instances that show evidence of emotional instability has cast a very dark cloud over his own reputation. Frank has fewer black marks to his name, although the Bayport Police Department has always worked very closely with you, Fenton, and were, of course, complicit in that jewelry store bungle, so employment with them is hardly a point in your favor. Then, too, all three of you did do a remarkable job of getting your friend killed."

Joe was on his feet, his fists clenched before the sound of the words had died away. Frank also jumped to his feet, and for once, he looked like he was more likely to help his impetuous brother in his retaliation than attempt to restrain him. Only Fenton kept his seat.

"Do you want a punch in the nose?" Joe demanded.

Wight only looked blandly at him. "Precisely the sort of thing I was talking about. No, you're not going to find anyone in the intelligence community willing to work with you. I would strongly recommend that you take me up on my offer. I already have a place that would be available. If your recent record is any indication, it is likely the only way to keep yourselves and the rest of your family safe."

"Joe, put your fists down," Fenton said as he, too, stood up now. "We're not interested in your offer, Wight. It's time for you to leave."

Wight remained seated. "You may not live long enough to regret that."

"Is that a threat?" Joe demanded, putting up his fists once more.

"A warning," Wight clarified.

"Then here is a warning for you," Fenton said. "Get out of this house before we throw you out."

Very slowly, Wight stood up. He took his time in heading for the door, and by the time they neared the front entrance, Joe and Fenton actually pushed him out the door. The Hardy women had gone into another room, and so they missed the demonstration.

"I suppose that didn't do our reputations any favors," Frank commented dryly, although there was a trace of concern in his voice.

"No, I suppose not," Fenton agreed. "Boys, I'm afraid we're in for a lot of trouble."

"Dad, reputations or not, I want to look for Angelo," Joe said. "I want to make sure he pays."

"Are you sure you want to get back into this game?" Fenton asked.

"I will for Tony," Joe replied.

They both looked at Frank.

"You can count me in, too," Frank said. "For Tony."

Fenton nodded. "Then we'll find Angelo."

Author's note: Once again, thank you so much for reading this story through to the end. Writing is a lot of work and this story in particular has involved a lot of late nights (stories can get a little incoherent when you're practically falling asleep at the keyboard—one of the reasons I did more revision in this one than any other I've published on here, lol!), but it's all worth it to know that there are people actually reading and possibly even enjoying it. And while I try to be thick-skinned and not be daunted by lack of response to a story, I am so grateful when readers leave reviews and this story has gotten so many lovely ones. So thank you from the bottom of my heart to Candylou, ErinJordan, MargaretA66, max2013, caseykam, Called by Magic, Demigod2020PJFAN, angelicalkiss, BMSH, Guest, and anyone who might leave reviews in the future. I have read and appreciated each and every one of your reviews and I am so grateful for all of you. Thank you also to everyone who has favorited or followed this story; that support is also much appreciated.

I promised to explain why I let Tony get killed in this series. It's actually something that I've known was going to happen since before I started writing Four Strangers. I've tried to build up to it with foreshadowing where I could, but I don't know if I was very successful. Foreshadowing is something I can use more practice on. There are several reasons why I had the storyline take this turn. One was for my own experience as a writer, to practice writing a major character death and the fallout that would come after it (that will mostly be in the next story). I also wanted to give Frank and Joe a very strong reason for wanting to go after and stop Angelo and give us all a very strong reason to despise him. Third, I wanted to explore how this would affect Frank, Joe, and the other characters and help to shape their characters, especially considering that I've been going for an interpretation of the Hardys that they are more flawed (although definitely not as much as some authors write them—sorry, guys, but I have enough massive dysfunctional family drama to deal with in real life, as some of you probably do, too; the Hardy Boys have long been my escape from it, so I don't really want to bog them down in any of it that's too extreme or that can't be repaired). Fourth…Well, the fourth reason is still top secret until the final story is finished. Let's just say there might be a twist coming that you may or may not have guessed. I do want to mention that out of all the Hardys' friends, Tony is definitely my favorite, and that's why I picked on him. Yeah, you really don't want to be a favorite character in a story I'm writing. ;)

I am working on the final story. I have about thirteen and a half chapters written, which is probably a little less than halfway. The earliest I expect it to be ready is September. That's kind of okay, actually, because it takes place in December, so if I start posting in September, I'll probably finish in December, so it will be the right season. I don't have a title for it yet. It's gone through two titles so far, neither of which I'm crazy about, so that will just have to be a surprise.

Again, thank you so very, very much! I will (hopefully) see you all again in September!

~Elizabeth Joan