"With Mr. Simon having departed the world, you don't have a bank-appointed escort anymore. When I spoke to Mr. Erickson this morning, he suggested that someone from your group might want to volunteer to take over Mr. Simon's duties."

"What kind of duties?" George Farkas ventured. George had lost a leg in World War II, but he'd been fitted with a prosthesis that seemed to work better than the original. He ran marathons in Windsor City, skied in Aspen, mountain climbed in Yosemite, and at Christmas, he'd unstrap the thing and let the grandkids crack nuts with it. It was pretty much an all-utility limb.

"The duties are pretty light," said Wally. "You'd have to keep track of the medical forms everyone filled out for the trip. Dispense any over-the-counter medications people might need if they get sick. Help people make phone calls back home if they can't figure out the phone system. Give assistance to anyone in the Windsor City group who's having a problem. Things like that."

I'd worked with the public before, so I knew what a can of worms this job could turn out to be for the misguided soul who volunteered. Phone calls at all hours of the night. Complaints about the food, the service, the weather. Whining about the locals not speaking English. Griping about not being able to figure out the conversion rate from Swiss francs to American dollars. The volunteer would be chugging antianxiety drugs by the fistful within twenty-four hours of accepting the position.

"Mr. Erickson authorized me to tell you that the volunteer will be reimbursed all expenses for the trip once he or she is back in Windsor City."

"I'll do it!" I stood up. "I volunteer!" Okay, so I was misguided, but I was practical. I'd lost my job. I needed the money. I had bills to pay.

"Emily's a good choice," agreed Dick Teig. "Chances are, she won't kick off before the end of the trip. All in favor say, 'Aye.'" A chorus of "Ayes" echoed through the room. "The ayes have it. Emily is our new escort."

"Time!" shouted Dick Stolee.

The entire room stood up and hurried in an orderly clump toward the side door, where the bus was scheduled to be waiting.

"Don't forget to leave your keys in the box at the front desk!" Wally reminded everyone.

I was too shocked by my impulsiveness to move immediately, but Nana elbowed George Farkas out of the way and set off in a footrace to get to the door first. From somewhere in the middle of the crowd, I could hear her yelling that she'd save me a seat on the bus.

Wally found me in my stupor and shook my hand. "Welcome aboard."

"Sure," I said. I'm not usually one to second-guess my own decisions, but I was having a weird feeling about this one. Did I know what I was doing? Could I handle the responsibility of thirty old people? Had anything in my lifetime prepared me for such a mammoth undertaking?