We stayed in the historic Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard. The book signing was a huge success. We were scheduled to leave in a rental car the following morning. Four days of mingling with fans and readers in Vegas would follow before the book signing began at Planet Hollywood.

My father was right. I’d come a long way since I wrote my first book. I’d gone from writing good stories that were terribly written to writing great stories that were well-written. My count, at that time, was forty full-length novels. I yearned to reach a point that I wrote great stories that were greatly written.

Keeping my nose to the grindstone was the recipe for success, according to my father. Maintaining a humble attitude. Listening to those who were perceived as better than me. Learning from my mistakes. Practicing humility.

Following the Hollywood signing, Jess and I fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I woke up, confused. My phone was ringing. I looked at my watch. It was four am. I leaned to the side, lifted my phone from the nightstand, and looked at the screen.

It was my sister.

With reluctance, I answered the phone.

It was silent.

“Amy?”

“Just a minute,” she said.

I didn’t like the emotion in her voice.

She cleared her throat. “Dad died, Scott…”

She continued, but I didn’t hear a word. I didn’t sit up. I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

I simply stared at the ceiling.

“He lived long enough to celebrate their anniversary, and then he died. He came home to die. He didn’t want to do it in that care home. His heart quit in the middle of the night. Mom found him on the floor beside his chair. Matt went over and picked him up and put him back in it. She didn’t want the ambulance attendants to see him on the floor.”

I stared.

“He said there’d be no funeral. Said he made you promise. He told mom you promised. Did you promise him, Scott?”

I managed to respond. “I did,” I whispered.

“That grumpy prick,” she said with a laugh. “He hated the celebration of death, just like you hate the celebration of birthdays.”

Laying in the dark beside a sleeping Jess, I swallowed hard and nodded, even though I knew my sister couldn’t see me.

“You’ve got a signing in Vegas, don’t you?”

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” I whispered, being cautious not to wake Jess.

“You better go to that signing,” Amy said. “You said you’d be there. You gave your word. If dad thought you went back on your word, he’d throw a fit.”

She was right. My father was a man of his word. I, too, was a man of mine.

I sighed. “You’re right.”

“He told mom he wanted you to write the eulogy. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

“Okay. I’ll let you go. Enjoy the signing as much as you can. Call mom tomorrow once it’s morning there. It’s six am here, right now.”

“I will.”

“I’m sorry, Scott.”

“Me, too.”

She hung up.

I dropped my phone onto my chest. I was numb. He was my father, but he was also my best friend.

Silently, I stared at the ceiling.

“Was that your phone?” Jess asked, her voice hinting that she was half asleep and half awake.

“It was.”

“Who was it?” she asked.

I didn’t want to say. I knew if I did, she’d figure something was wrong. I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Who was it?” she asked again.

“Amy,” I said.

She sat up, turned on the light, and looked at me.

I stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t do anything else.

“Scott?”

I stared.

“Scott?”

I looked at her.

She saw it in my face.

Her face contorted. “No.” She sucked a breath. “No!”

I nodded.

“Oh my God.” She gasped. “No!”

She collapsed at my side, blubbering and crying against my chest. I held her in my arms, keeping my eyes fixed on the ceiling. After a few minutes, she sat up.

“I’ll need to get this stuff packed so we can fly back there.”

I coughed a laugh. “We’re going to the Vegas signing.”

“What?” she said. “We can’t. Your father just died.”

“If we don’t go to that signing, he’ll be glaring down at us from heaven with fire in his eyes.”

She laughed and cried at the same time. “That sounds like your dad.”

I sat up.

The world around me collapsed.

I looked at Jess.

She opened her arms. I leaned against her. “He was a good man,” I said.

“He was,” she said. “And, he raised a greater man.”