Heather Graham by Angel's Touch

easy, compared to dealing with a drunkard.”
    “Oh, right! Get a family to open their door to a scruffy bag lady on Christmas Eve!”
    “Gabriel likes you better.”
    Cathy started to speak, decided she couldn’t argue that. Poor Don. His feelings were hurt.
    Don threw up his hands. “This just can’t be real.”
    “We’re in Boston, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “We landed from a cloud, didn’t we?”
    He offered her a grimace. “I still say your miracle is easier than mine.”
    She smiled. “We’re in this together, remember.”
    Don didn’t smile in return. “Only if we can manage these miracles!” he reminded her.
    She squeezed his fingers. “Piece of cake.”
    “Keg o’ beer!” Don countered. “I think I found where we’re supposed to start.”
    A neon sign, garishly strewn with Christmas lights, advertised MULLIGAN’S PUB & FINE DINING ESTABLISHMENT.
    “Think he’s in there?”
    “I imagine that’s why we’re on this corner.”
    “Shall we, then?”
    Don hesitated. The place looked downright seedy. “I’m not at all sure I should take you in there.”
    “I always wanted to see the inside of a place like that.”
    “What?”
    “I’ve only seen joints like that in movies!” she said with a laugh. “I’m curious. Oh, Don, what could possibly happen to me? I’m already dead!” she reminded him.
    “Yes, but…”
    “I’m not going to strip and dance on a table or anything.”
    “Promise?”
    She elbowed him in the ribs. For a dead person, she had quite a punch.
    “Let’s get on with your miracle,” she said firmly.
    To Don’s distress, Cathy headed quickly for the doorway. He followed her, wanting to make sure that she didn’t enter the place alone.
    He hated to admit it, but at one time, before he’d met Cathy, he had lived a slightly wild life.
    He’d done a few of those “guy things” himself.
    But he’d never been in a place like this one.
    “Wait a minute,” he told Cathy.
    “Yeah.”
    “Maybe we should go in as invisible. Check that little book of yours and see how we do it.”
    Cathy pulled out the book; flipped through the pages.
    “How do we do it?” he asked.
    She shrugged. “Just think invisible.”
    “You’re kidding me.”
    “I’m not.”
    With a groan and a shake of his head, he thought invisible. People seemed to be walking by, not noticing them. He could still see Cathy, but he hoped they were supposed to be able to see one another.
    With a shrug, he opened the door for her, then decided they must be invisible, because a man came along behind them, shivering, and closed the door more tightly once they had entered the small and crowded foyer. Don took her hand and led her past a small reception stand. She collided with his back as he stood dead still, staring.
    It was a medium-sized place. Really something like a local pub. Except for a long bar with three little curved areas that jutted out around the tables. Each one of the curves sported a pole, and each pole was decorated by a woman in various stages of undress—who danced to the beat of the music that pulsated through the room.
    “Not bad looking—the dancers—for a sleazy place like this.”
    “You noticed?” Cathy said.
    “It’s a ‘guy’ thing,” he told her. “There are some empty seats over there.”
    “Which guy do you think is O’Connor?” Cathy asked as they moved across the room.
    The question was answered for them as a heavy-set man suddenly called out, “Jimmy! Jimmy O’Connor! Merry Christmas, my man. Buy the boy a drink, Mercy!” he told the waitress. He slapped his hand against the back of a man just around a bar curve from Cathy and Don.
    Jimmy O’Connor.
    He was wearing a nice suit—one Gabriel might well approve, Don thought—but it was a little crumpled. O’Connor had loosened his tie, and his hair, which he wore a little long, hung around his face now. He was a handsome man, quick to smile.
    A young man, still.
    But the first signs of dissipation were