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here—even, or especially , out of a young hooligan like you!”
    â€œI’m sorry,” the boy replied, hanging his head. But he simultaneously peeped up through his eyelashes, and the dimples of the devastating smile which was going to get him into all sorts of trouble in another few years danced at the corners of his mouth.
    â€œWell,” Timothy harumpfed, “I suppose we can let it go without harping upon it… this time.”
    He had the satisfaction of noting what was probably a genuine quiver of trepidation at the qualifier, but then he leaned back in his chair.
    â€œNow, what’s this you were saying about an angel?”
    â€œThe signal light,” Matthew said eagerly, eyes lighting with bright excitement as he recalled his original reason for intruding upon his grandfather. “The signal light just began shining! Father Michael said I should run and tell you about it immediately. There’s an angel coming, Grandfather!”
    â€œAnd what color was the signal light?” Timothy asked. His voice was so completely calm that, without his realizing it, it raised him tremendously in his great-grandson’s already high esteem.
    â€œYellow,” Matthew replied, and Timothy nodded. One of the lesser angels, then. He felt a quick little stab of regret, for which he scolded himself instantly. It might be more exciting to hope to entertain a visit from one of the Archangels themselves, but mortal men did well not to place commands upon God, even indirectly.
    Besides, even a “lesser” angel will be more than enough excitement for you, old man! he told himself scoldingly.
    â€œWell,” he said, nodding to his great-grandson, “if an angel’s coming to Lakeview, then we must make our preparations to receive him. Go down to the docks, Matthew. Find Jason, and tell him to raise the signal for all the fishing boats to return to harbor. As soon as you’ve done that, go home and tell your mother and grandmother. I’m sure Father Michael will be ringing the bell shortly, but you might as well go ahead and warn them.”
    â€œYes, Grandfather!” Matthew nodded eagerly, then turned and sped back the way he’d come. Timothy watched him go, smiling for a moment, then squared his shoulders and walked out of his office.
    Most of the town hall staff had paused in whatever they were doing. They were looking in his direction, and he smiled again, whimsically.
    â€œI see you all heard Matthew’s announcement,” he said dryly. “That being the case, I see no need to expand upon it further at this time. Finish whatever you were doing, file your work, and then hurry home to prepare yourselves.”
    People nodded. Here and there, chairs scraped across the plank floor as clerks who’d already anticipated his instructions hurried to tuck files into the appropriate cabinets. Others bent over their desks, quill pens flying as they worked towards a reasonable stopping point. Timothy watched them for a few seconds, then continued out the town hall’s front door.
    The town hall stood upon a hill at the center of the town of Lakeview. Lakeview was growing steadily, and Timothy was aware that it wouldn’t be long before it slipped over that elusive line dividing “town” from “small city.” He wasn’t certain how he felt about that, for a lot of reasons. But however he might feel about it, there was no doubt how God and the angels felt, and that made any purely personal reservations on his part meaningless.
    Word was spreading, he saw. People were hurrying along the cobblestone streets and sidewalks, heads bent in excited conversation with companions, or simply smiling hugely. The signal light on the steeple of Father Michael’s church was deliberately placed to be visible by as much of the town as possible, and Timothy could see its bright amber glow from where he stood, despite the brightness of the summer