Nick had screwed up. Totally. He sat in the shadows of his empty restaurant feeling like a broken man, wishing he could turn back the clock and undo his mischief. It was 7 a.m.; he'd been in the same chair since he'd wandered into the building in the wee hours. At home, he'd been unable to sleep, so he'd come to Taverna, but there was no peace here, either.
Nick had angered the gods by trying to manipulate Fate, and they'd responded by bringing his entire world crashing down. His heart attack had been their opening volley. Recovered but weak, he'd had to suffer worse pain and anguish when his daughter, Selena, nearly died in a car accident, her beautiful face now permanently scarred. That was his fault, too. If he hadn't tried to outsmart the gods, she never would have been on the road, distraught and distracted.
His wife, Helen, would never forgive him. She'd said as much last night. The two of them had been standing alone in their living room just after Selena and Biff announced that they were leaving Pine Lake. Immediately. Forever.
When they'd gone, Helen glared at him, white with rage. "Why on earth would you threaten to send murdering thugs after Biff?" She'd asked.
"I just wanted him to leave town. I wanted him to leave Selena alone," Nick replied. "It was all lies; I made up all that stuff about knowing who to call to make him disappear. How was I supposed to know he'd been an undercover drug agent and there really were people who'd come after him?"
"You're a fool," she'd said, walking away.
He was a fool. A pathetic old man whose family despised him. A line from The Odyssey floated into his head: "This time you are the derelict the Powers bring" (Book XIV, line 451).
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