My sister Calla had lived with the death of our parents for more than a decade. She lost her adoptive parents, the Wileys, a year before meeting Diggory Franklin in 2008. I had been sent back in time by the Continuity Integrity Agency to make sure that Calla built a time machine that Diggory would use before his death in 2009.

The only problem was, the Wileys' death provided the funds that paid for Calla's doctoral studies. Those courses led to the time machine. So, to make sure the machine was built, I had to make sure the Wileys' died.

When I was a kid I would tell my friends I had a busy summer upon my return to school -- and a "busy summer" entailed farm chores, reading books, playing with my sister, shopping trips, swimming in the creek, and maybe, just maybe, travelling somewhere.

On my CIA final exam, I learned a whole new definition of busy.

Hey everyone. I have been tremendously busy this month because of (see my blog) and so I have been derelict in my duties as a writer.

I'm sure you're all tired of hearing that. I was getting better at keeping a once a week schedule until (see my blog) but now I'll have to try twice as hard to keep the story going, because I'm not giving up on the five years I've invested in Diggory Franklin's story.

I figure it's important for any of you still out there to hear that. There will be more story.

Frank convinced me to go home for a break. I took a shower, grabbed some food and took a nap. Then I went back and watched him sleep until I passed out on the couch in his room. We chit-chatted the next day, and I did my best to keep a brave face through our banter. I think I covered my anxiety with humour, and he seemed to be in good spirits. I didn't want him to worry about me when he had so much to recover from.

Dempsey looked over at Andrew, sitting there on the couch smiling like a shark and offering threats in a friendly tone of voice. He smiled back.

"I'd like to see you try."

"What's that?" Andrew raised an eyebrow.

Dempsey slid out of his suit jacket and let it fall over the back of a chair. He then unbuttoned his cufflinks and started to roll up his sleeve.

"Why are you still here?" Dempsey stood in the doorway of the den, arms crossed over his chest in his three-piece suit.

"I was reading," Andrew answered, holding up a novel from his seat on the leather couch.

He was dressed in a sweater and khaki outfit that was a little more casual than his host. He looked more comfortable than Dempsey would like in what was his personal sanctuary.

"I mean in my house. Patricia's out at the opera with friends, we can talk plainly for once."

"I rather enjoyed Christmas and New Year's, don't you like when family visits?" Andrew smiled.

By the calendar, my sister Calla would meet Diggory Franklin for the first time about a week after Matt's debt got too big for him to handle. I needed to get Matt to follow my plan, and I needed to get Calla on board.

Fortunately I already knew she would agree, thanks to her journals. The trick was, I would have to travel back to Boston in the summer of 2008 to begin convincing her. In the meantime, though, I also had to make sure Matt knew what his role was.

"Tell me about your friend," I directed Matt over pizza at his apartment.

The guys spoke about "the Boss" in whispers, using the nickname "the Squid." He had arms reaching everywhere in the city's underground, and had been firmly ensconced for decades. Even being allowed to meet him meant that I was either extremely interesting, or in extreme danger.

Maybe both.

I returned to my own time and tried to look to the future. To let my visit to the past be a farewell to my husband. I made plans with the Board of Franklin Investments towards building a high tech lab, and bought plane tickets to go about recruiting first-rate scientists. Before all of that was to begin came Christmas. I used some of our wealth... my wealth... to help others. It would set the tone for the new life I was planning.

Today was much harder than I expected it to be.

It started with vomiting. I heard Bianca knocking on the bedroom door.

Mike took me by the elbow and got me into a black car out front of the club we’d been playing cards in. I sat in the back with him while some other wop drove. I lounged in my seat and looked out the window, playing it like a bad-ass.

I felt a trickle of sweat run down my spine though. The guys in the game had been big toughs, but Mike’s boss sounded higher up even than them. That was bad. I played the fool often enough, but I wasn’t stupid. I had attracted the attention of not just a big fish but a shark. I had to watch it.