“Morning,” Louise said absentmindedly as the bell above the door jingled, still swinging. But it wasn’t a new customer. The old man who’d just left was back, retrieving his wallet from the car.

“Here are the papers,” Jake muttered, sliding an unsealed manila envelope across the chipped surface of the table. The low murmur of the diner and clatter of dishes forced him to speak louder.

Ralph, slouched in a wrinkled suit with tired eyes, tapped the envelope’s edge. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else.” He stirred sugar into his coffee and added, “Fuse?”

“None. Whenever,” Jake grunted.

“What’s on your mind?” Ralph asked, noticing Jake’s distracted look.

“This table. How old is it? How old is this whole damn diner?” Jake sounded irritated. “Look at it—worn down, scratched up, edges chipped…”

“Gives it some shabby charm,” Ralph teased. “What’s with you today? You’re exuding an exceptional charm yourself,” he joked.

Jake, ignoring the comment, dipped a napkin in his water and began rubbing at the faded coffee rings staining the surface.

Without a word, Louise breezed by and splashed fresh coffee into Jake’s cup. Ralph stopped her with a flat hand over his own, saying nothing. She moved on.

“How long have I been your lawyer now?” Ralph asked, glancing up from his menu.

“You mean, how long have I been teaching you law?” Jake shot back, not bothering with the menu. His rule: at every diner, he told the server what he wanted and let them figure out the price. “I don’t know. Why? Who cares?” He sounded irritated, still wrestling with something.

Ralph leaned back in his chair, almost sliding on the dirty linoleum. “Okay, spill. What’s eating at you? This lawsuit’s a slam dunk. They breached. Case closed.”

“That’s not it,” Jake said, his voice softer, like he was just realizing it. “Something’s off. Not business. Personal. There’s a vibe change.”

Ralph knew him well enough. He let it ride, quietly stirring his coffee—though it didn’t need stirring.

“I can feel it,” Jake continued. “Something’s about to blow. Something big. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Like what?” Ralph asked.

“If I knew…” Jake trailed off. “If I knew, I’d stop it.”

Ralph checked his watch. “I’ve got 45 minutes. And besides, I’m your only real friend.” He paused, smirking. “Well, except for your harem.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jake snapped.

“Just messing with you. How’s Rex and the kids? Settling in?”

Jake looked up, frowning. “What the hell, Ralph? You act like they just got here.”

Ralph leaned in. “Want me to remind you, before you blow up at me? Last I heard, they had just moved to Littleton, got that place in Ken Caryl. Kids in school. Rex landed an Admin job at one of them.”

“That’s where you left off?” Jake’s irritation softened. “Damn. Sorry for snapping. Let’s start over.” He straightened up, forcing a grin. “Hey, Ralph! Great to see you, old friend.”

Ralph laughed. “So, tell me about Rex. And the new woman.”

“New woman?” Jake looked confused for a second, then realized. “Oh, Cassie.”

“Hence—the harem,” Ralph teased again.

Over the next 30 minutes, Jake unraveled the tangled stories of Rexanne Dorfman and Cassie Gilmore. Ralph, trying to keep up, leaned in. “So, let me get this straight. Did I get it right?”

“They moved here in June 2006. I suggested counseling for the kids. That led to family therapy, and the counselor threw in a spiritual angle—so they ended up at Mile Hi,” Jake replied, pointing to Ralph’s untouched eggs. “Your food’s getting cold. Let me finish.”

“By late 2006, they were all immersed in Mile Hi teachings,” Jake continued. Ralph knew the Science of Mind theory well, having represented clients from there. “Once they moved to Ken Caryl, I didn’t see them much.”

“Right,” Ralph said, chewing.

“The kids were into it, but Rex went all in. When Brian hit her with that philosophical question about Free Will and ‘meant to be,’ she couldn’t answer. Took it straight to Dr. Roger.”

Ralph chimed in, “The question about Free Will and destiny?”

“Yeah, and Roger recommended that book, Journey of Souls. Anyway, fast forward to April 2009, this woman’s car breaks down in front of my house. Turns out, she’s on her way to California to find her niece.”

“The one who may actually be here in Denver?”

“Exactly. With no point heading any further west, she decides to set up a homestead in our neck of the woods. I offered her the guesthouse while she transitioned.”

“And she’s still with you?”

“Yeah, but it’s no harem, smartass.”

Ralph chuckled. “This is where Rex and Cassie meet, right? Rex’s Science of Mind classes at your house?”

Jake nodded. “Rex suggests Mile Hi to Cassie, and Cassie dives in. She even gets into Journey of Souls.”

Ralph’s eyes widened. “And that’s where Cassie’s life changes, her ‘Pivotal Moment,’ right?”

“Yep. Cassie eventually meets with Dr. Newton, the book’s author, and starts hypnosis sessions—at first twice a week. Eventually three times a week.”

“Here’s where it gets crazy,” Ralph said, leaning forward. “I still can’t believe you’re buying this.”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not what I believe in. It’s what I don’t believe in—coincidences.”

Ralph raised an eyebrow. “So, explain the weird part again—slowly.”

“Under hypnosis, over 200 sessions, Cassie’s Soul—who calls itself Vimh—reveals stuff.”

“Like that all Souls are here to spread love?”

“Right,” Jake nodded. “By early 2010, Cassie’s overwhelmed. She begs me to help her process all this incoming info.”

“That’s when you shared some claims techniques,” Ralph interjected.

“Yeah. But the weird part is what we uncovered. That every session followed a distinct pattern. The session length always matched the minute hand on the clock.”

“Every session?” Ralph asked.

“Every one! Then we realized the first letter of the word of each session spelled out sentences.”

“And the sentences?” Ralph leaned in closer. “What did the sentences say?”

“That our life, here on earth, is a game – the Game of Life. That there are these things called Harmony Points – 26 of them, that explain the connection between God and Souls and Man and Earth and Free Will and Democracy and America and Voting and…”

“Wait, what?” Ralph interrupted. “At this point, I think, if I am going to buy into any of this, I need some tangible evidence. You and I both deal in facts, not theories.”

Ignoring him, Jake went on, “Then Cassie started getting dreams—‘Drispers’ she called them—like whispers in her sleep. One dream involved the French guy who thought up the Statue of Liberty.”

“And the connection?”

“The base of the statue stands on the site of the old Fort Wood. And its bastions contain 26 points.”

Ralph shook his head. “Is that where it ends? This unraveling mystery?”

“Yes and no. Rexanne suggested Cassie get help transcribing the sessions and making sense of the 26 points. That’s how they formed GOLDiggers, the social group I told you about.”

“Still around?”

“Yeah. They started with a dozen women in June 2010, now there’s over 100. Monthly meetings, weekly workshops.”

Ralph sat back. “So by 2011, things are moving along, and Cassie gives a huge presentation at Mile Hi? Over 500 people?”

Jake smirked. “You got it. And by now, Rex’s kids are back in school—Brian’s a senior, Leslie’s a sophomore.”

“And still no sign of Lizzy, the missing niece?”

“Not a word. She’s either dead or doesn’t want to be found,” Jake said flatly.

“What if she’s being held?”

Jake ignored the question. “Anyway, lately, things have been tense between me and Cassie.”

“Why?” Ralph asked, surprised.

Jake paused. “Familiarity breeds contempt, maybe?”

“Nah, after two years? Something else is going on.”

“She wants to talk tonight. I’ve got this weird vibe.”

Ralph raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s just you. Could be the lawsuit.”

Jake sighed. “Maybe I don’t know what I want with the rest of my life.” He stopped, realizing he was going too deep. “Anyway, your 45 minutes are up.”

Ralph slid out of the booth, grabbing the envelope. “I’ll holler in a few days.”

“What’s today?” Jake asked.

“September 8th,” Ralph said, staring at his watch. Then, he started to pull out his wallet.

“I got it,” Jake grinned. “Thanks, pal,” he said, as Ralph walked away.

Jake’s gut had been right. Dead right, in fact. He was closing some computer files from his meeting with Ralph the day before when a Breaking News alert interrupted the regular broadcast on CNN. They were covering the upcoming 9/11 ceremonies at Ground Zero, but the interruption was chilling.

“A 40-ton steel girder fell from a freeway construction site into traffic Friday morning, west of Denver. It crushed one car, killing a woman. The 100-foot girder sliced across three lanes of Interstate 70, shearing the top off an SUV,” reported Trooper Dan Petry.

Jake turned on his police scanner, listening for more details. When he heard the location—just south of the airport—his heart stopped. Cassie had mentioned going to DIA that morning to follow a lead, someone thought they’d spotted Lizzy.

He called her immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. “Call me,” he snapped into the phone, his voice tight with worry.

News of her death spread like wildfire throughout Cassie’s circle of friends and community. That night, almost everyone in Denver went to bed thinking the same thing: That could have been me. The impact of Cassie’s loss hit hard, especially at Mile Hi and among the GOLDiggers and its Goldies. But no one felt it deeper than Rexanne and Jake.

Just six miles away from the accident site, Brian and Leslie were sitting at the dining room table in their Falling Water condo, working on their homework. Rexanne was in the kitchen, finishing the dishes and thinking about tomorrow’s grocery list when Leslie suddenly yelled, “Mom, come here!”

Rexanne rushed in, dropping the towel, and found Leslie pointing at the TV. “Turn it up, Megs!” Brian said, and the reporter’s voice filled the room: “The identity of the deceased is being withheld until the family is notified.”

“That’s terrible,” Rexanne remarked, her heart heavy. “I hope it’s no one we know.” She nudged her kids back to their work and returned to the kitchen.

“I’ll help,” Megs offered, muting the TV and grabbing a dish towel.

Rexanne and Cassie had been best friends since they met at Jake’s house over two years ago, in April 2009. They had weathered life’s challenges together, leaning on each other for strength. Cassie’s sudden death was an emotional earthquake, one that threatened to shatter Rexanne completely.

But the loss affected more than just Rexanne. To Brian and Leslie, Aunt Cassie was like a second mom, just as Uncle Jake had filled the role of a father figure. Losing her reopened deep wounds left by their own father’s sudden death two years earlier.

The difference this time wasn’t only in who had died, but in how the kids were coping. Back then, they were younger, more sheltered, and devastated by grief. Now, in 2011, Brian was a senior, Leslie a sophomore. Both were active in school and deeply involved at Mile Hi, finding support through their church and friends. It helped them navigate this new loss, slowly rebuilding their lives until it started to feel good again.

Even though their lives had taken different paths, Rexanne often reached out to Jake, especially after Cassie’s death. She knew the weight of grief all too well and became a source of support for him during his darkest moments. Her understanding helped Jake begin to process his pain, even when he couldn’t express it himself.

Cassie’s funeral was held two days later at Mount Lindo, a place she had loved. “She adored this spot,” Rexanne sobbed, leaning into Jake for physical support. Leslie clung to her uncle’s waist, while Brian stood rigidly, trying to stay composed, struggling to be the man his mother needed.

After the service, the wake took place at Jake’s house, though it was Rexanne who handled the planning and hosting. Jake, however, was distant. He kept slipping away from the crowd—retreating to his office, the deck, or down by the hot tub on the lower patio—seeking solitude in the midst of so much emotion.

When the last guest finally left, Rexanne lingered to clean up, but Jake stopped her. “This can wait,” he said. “It’ll give me something to do. Go home. You all need time to process.”

None of them could have known it then, but Cassie’s death wasn’t just a personal tragedy—it was destiny in motion. Her loss set off a chain of events that had the potential to alter not only the course of American history, but the fate of humanity itself.