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information. We’re turning stories into a symphony. We’re deciphering the days of this older generation or the young father with a terminal illness or a mother with breast cancer who has a few months to live or a child with a tumor whose parents want to hang on to life. Make sense of the pain. We’re taking all of that and putting it into understandable bits of video and music and story. This is a holy endeavor.”
    “This is about your grandfather, isn’t it?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’re having a hard time dealing with his death. With what happened to your parents, I don’t blame you. It’s a tough thing to lose someone like that.” Jeffrey picked up the DVD again. “I like your passion. I’m not trying to denigrate youridea. I hope you make a million. I hope you’re the next Steven Spielberg.”
    Devin bit his tongue. He did not want to be Spielberg. He wanted to be better than Spielberg could ever hope to be.
    “I appreciate how hard you’ve worked and what you’re willing to do to fund your art. But this is a DVD that will go on the shelf and collect dust. And just as you have to represent your vision, I have to represent the bank’s. In this economy, investing lots of money in an artistic endeavor makes no sense.”
    Devin took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. “I was drawn to this because of my grandfather; you’re right. And I could be cataloging border issues or the drug wars or a thousand other more sexy subjects. But if this catches on, there are retirement communities and areas of the country   —look at Florida. California. The Pacific Northwest. It’s an untapped reservoir and not just because of the money. I can see this getting bigger, with reps on both coasts and in the Midwest. And the more stories we record and tell, the more word gets out, the more affordable we make it. The documentary will be the best way to publicize what we’re doing. It will bring awareness to the project.”
    “Just like Tom Hanks did with WWII veterans,” Whitman said, barely able to cross his legs.
    “Exactly,” Devin said. He lifted his thumb in the air like Atticus Finch at the jury box. “I’ve always heard if you do what you love, the money will follow. If you do something with passion that comes from deep inside, you’ll never really work a day in your life. I could pitch you five different ideas that would make me a successful entrepreneur in a year or less. But I want to do something that lasts. I want to make a difference. Theseare the stories I was meant to tell. I can feel it. And if you’ll help us, I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
    When he finished, his hands were balled into fists.
    “You really believe that, don’t you?”
    “With everything in me. This can’t lose. And not only will we make money and get the documentary going; we’ll make the world better. Isn’t that what it’s all about?”
    Devin glanced out the window as the Chevrolet backed out of the parking lot and pulled away. There was something about seeing the taillights that both unnerved and invigorated him.

CHAPTER 5
    THE TRANSFORMATION   — and that was the only word that could adequately describe what Miriam observed   —came slowly, as if a flower were opening. It showed in the old woman’s eyes as she tilted her head like a dog hearing a strange noise. A train whistle. A siren. First came the head tilt, then a more precise stare, a studying of the force of nature near her. She leaned forward, as close to the girl as she could, dipping her head, her chest against the table.
    The daughter opened the door and rushed into the room, leaving her husband behind. Miriam followed.
    “Mrs. Ardeth, do you know where you are?” Treha said.
    The old woman squinted and gave a hint of a smile. She tried to form words through an open mouth, her tongue moving.
    “It’s okay,” Treha said. “Be patient. We have lots of time.”
    The words hung thick on Treha’s lips, but they were said with