The tall dark-haired man stared at the closed doors of the firehouse. "I shouldn't have come," he murmured, and turned on his heel toward his silver Corvette. A Volkswagen bug drove up, and a redhead in glasses got out. She was the kind of woman who had spent her teenage and early adult years as a gawk, but suddenly grew into her cheekbones and height just when other women were beginning to worry that they were growing old. He stopped involuntarily to give her a second look, and she blushed. He grinned impenitently at her. "Good morning." She smiled back. She rarely saw hazel-eyed leather-jacketed strangers with devil-may-care grins at this hour of the morning. Mm-mm-mm. "Can I help you?" "I'm looking for the Ghostbusters," he said hesitantly. "You came to the right place," she said, gesturing to the sign. "I knocked and didn't get any answer." "They had a late night last night," she explained, smiling. "Come on in." She pulled out a well-used key and unlocked the door. He followed. She sniffed the air. "No coffee yet. I'd better start some, or they'll never get up. Here. Start filling out the paperwork, and I'll be back in a minute." She started upstairs to the kitchen, still smiling. It couldn't be anything too bad, or he would have been demanding she listen. Or shivering. She hated sending the kids on those jobs. A few minutes later, Mr. Coffee was dripping away and she was beginning to hear stirrings in the bedrooms. Kylie was up first, her face innocent of makeup for once but her eyes as shadowed as always. "Pancakes?" she said blurrily. "Working on 'em." The visitor's chair scraped the floor downstairs, and Kylie was suddenly on the alert. "Who's down there?" "Oh, just a client," Janine said airily. Kylie looked suspicious. "Male? Cute?" "Yup. Very." Kylie flew back to her bedroom, demanding, "Why didn't you tell me?" She would never be sure if it was the smell of food or the unfamiliar clatter of Kylie's swift preparations which awoke the others, but it was only two or three minutes later when some very familiar voices started coming down the hall. "Oh, man. What time is it?" "Too darn early." "What's that? Getting too old for this, Ray?" "Since when have you ever been perky in the morning, Peter?" Janine asked as he poked his head into the kitchen. "Since I got used to waking up with Dana." An uncharacteristic pause. "I wish she would've come with me." "I don't think New York holds the best memories for her," Janine said soothingly, holding out cups of coffee. "One of you guys should watch the pancakes. We've got a client downstairs." "At this hour?" Winston consulted his wristwatch and groaned. "Maybe you should ask him if he's eaten, get him to come back later." "I don't know if he would. He was considering driving away earlier. But on the other hand, anybody who shows up on our doorstep this early must have something big bothering him." "Why don't you bring him upstairs?" Ray suggested. "That way we can all eat and hear his story at the same time." Peter and Winston traded glances. The man really missed the good ol' days of 'busting, didn't he? "Sounds like a plan," Peter agreed kindly. "Nothing like a little ghost story over breakfast to start the day right." "That's what you think, man," Eduardo noted, stumbling in. "'Cause you ain't doing this 24/7 anymore." The client sighed. "This is gonna sound weird." "Everything sounds weird around here." "It's my father. He's haunting me." "Yeah? Are we talking about partial apparition, full body apparition, poltergeist, or just voices and sounds?" "All of the above, if I understand the terms correctly."