The pain-killers were kicking in sufficiently to soften the painful throbbing in my foot to a dull, background ache, by the time I dialled Frasier's number. As I did this, I recalled the conversation I'd had with my brother only the previous afternoon. I wasn't crazy about the idea of answering Frasier's questions about the developments since then, not while I was within earshot of my beloved anyway, so I hobbled down from the motor home, saying I wanted to get some fresh air.

I sorted myself out a nice private spot, leaning against the Winnebago. When my brother answered the call, I couldn't help my excitement. "Frasier!" I announced. "Something wonderful has happened!"

"Good morning Niles," Frasier replied, deliberately sedate in the face of my exuberance. "Have they found the cure for cancer?"

But his sarcasm was unable to shake me from the clouds which buoyed me. "Guess again!"

"I'm not doing this," he rankled.

"You started it!" I threw back.

"Niles!"

"All right, all right." I paused and drew a giddy breath. "Daphne and I are officially an item!"

"Officially?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Funny," he considered. "I didn't see the announcement in the New York Times ..."

"Is that the best you can do?"

"I'm sorry Niles. I'm happy, I'm deliriously happy for both of you. How did this remarkable reversal of fortune happen in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Well, we had a talk and Daphne decided that it wouldn't be a good idea but then later she woke up in the night and I wasn't there so she went looking for me and found my boot and ..." I realised I was rambling. "Oh it doesn't matter how. I'll tell you when we're back. The point is, we need you to come and meet us."

Frasier gasped. "Niles, I really am happy for you both, but don't you think this is moving just a tad fast? I mean, declaring your feelings is one thing, maybe dinner together, dating, that's one thing too -"

"Are we going to be here for a while?" I interrupted.

"- but marriage, Niles?! Can't you give yourselves a few months, see how things turn out?"

"What in heaven's name are you talking about?"

There was a pause. When my brother spoke next, he asked uncertainly, "Well, why else would you need us to drive out to meet you?"

Ah. How he manages to jump to these ridiculous conclusions, I have no idea. "We only need you, and we need you to drive Daphne's car to Lake Chelan. It shouldn't take you more than two hours. You see, I'm somewhat incapacitated at the moment and so Daphne's going to have to drive us that far. Then we need you to drive the Winnebago back to Seattle."

"I can tell it's been a raucous night," my brother offered dubiously. "What the hell happened?"

"I sprained my ankle."

"Oh for god's sake Niles! How did you manage that?"

"It was dark. I tripped. I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Of course you didn't." Frasier sighed, but his irritation was already giving way to concern. He's nothing if not empathetic, my big brother. "Are you all right?"

"I'll live."

I filled Frasier in on the details Daphne had listed for me and was reassured as I heard him writing them down. Then he sighed again and said he'd be at the meeting place for four o'clock that afternoon. I ignored his show of weary exasperation, aware that Dad's annual pilgrimage to Forks was probably playing on his mind. I wasn't having that, though; an afternoon's trip to rescue his injured brother hardly deserved reward on that scale. I'd send him a hamper, I decided, and we'd be square.

Daphne was pouring coffee and Maggie had put in an appearance, when I clambered painfully back inside. I made myself comfortable on the bench.

"So what does he think?" Daphne asked.

"Oh, he's deliriously happy," I smiled back at her.

She arched a brow. "He's deliriously happy he's got to drive out to meet us?"

"Oh, that. Umm ... yes. Yes, he'll be there."

She smirked knowingly at me, and I went tingly for a moment, before I remembered we had company. Maggie frowned and said, "What?"

So we explained the situation to her. And then, when Michael came by to see us off, we had to explain it to him. For some reason, he thought the whole thing was hilarious. Daphne nearly lost her temper at Michael's giggling, but couldn't stay mad when she saw how discreet he tried to be in accepting his five dollar winnings from Maggie. My angel revealed to her brother that she was quite aware of their bet, in a dazzling display of acerbic wit.

I wondered whether my ears went purple like Michael's, when Daphne fixed her withering stare on *me*.

And so we said our goodbyes, unhooked the utilities and were ready to go. Fortunately we were relatively early risers in our corner of the festival site, and there were very few other people about. I settled in the front passenger seat and tried to assist Daphne with a few suggestions as she began to reverse out of our slot, until she slammed down on the brake, turned in her seat, and, in a voice like gravel, growled, "Are you going to let me get on with this, or do I have to find the duct tape?"

Clearly she was more nervous than I had thought. Pandering to her anxiety, I refrained from making further comment. Daphne rolled us slowly out of the bay we'd occupied and across to the surfaced road. I saw her glancing out the window before we set off to join the main highway. She was looking at the footpath which had been so meaningful in the previous night's drama. Her expression had softened, when she turned back to face me.

She reached a hand over and I accepted it with mine. "Sorry love," she offered, squeezing me affectionately. "If I need some help, I'll ask."

"Okay," I agreed. "Need me to navigate?"

"Oh, no, no, it's fairly straight-forward. I've got the route memorised."

And with that, she eased the Winnebago forward and we headed away from the festival. You know, it's the strangest thing, but I was almost sorry to be leaving.

I said 'almost' ...