‘Did you see that?’ she asked the others. ‘What?’ asked Martin Nash. ‘Ross.’ Joanne said. ‘He is the spitting image of his daddy. He’s...gonna grow up to be the next Iron Crowbar…’ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * After getting back from lunch, I headed to my office, letting the Ross families plan and do whatever they were going to plan and do. After a few minutes, there was a knock on my door. William Ross opened it and came inside. ‘Ah, hello, sir.’ I said, getting up. ‘Please, have a seat.’. Becky was ordering me to write a second letter. The next day at lunchtime I pushed a folded sheet of paper across the table to her as soon as we took our seats. I watched her unfold the paper and was rewarded with a delightful smile of anticipation. Becky paused when the paper was open and in front of her, looked at me, pursed her lips in that special way, and began to read.January 15, 1987Dear Alice,You end some of your letters by asking, 'how are you, Sammy?' The reason I have not answered. More

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