One Door From Heaven

and pleasing to the eye as calligraphy.
        When Curtis reads the number on the check, he whistles softly. "Oh, Lord, Ms. Tavenall, are you sure you can afford this?"
        "That's for the two motor homes," she says. "They should be top-of-the-line because, after all, you're going to be spending a lot of time in them."
        The first motor home will be for Micky, Leilani, and Aunt Gen. The second will be for Noah, Curtis-and for Richard, whom he has not yet met.
        Polly and Cass already have their wheels, courtesy of Hollywood divorces, which they had insisted upon after their producer husbands-Julian and Don Flackberg-had killed a screenwriter. The Flackberg brothers, renowned screamers, ruled their employees by terror-though they never screamed at movie stars, at critics, or at the twins. Cass says that the brothers were always sweet to her and Polly, while even Polly agrees they were Huggy Bears at home. Julian and Don had never killed a screenwriter previously, and in this case they resorted to violence only after the writer had successfully sued them for breach of contract. Over the years, Julian and Don had breached hundreds of contracts, perhaps thousands, always with impunity, and in their defense, they had tearfully claimed temporary insanity resulting from the shock of having their entire business model stood on its head.
        Curtis wonders if the place to start saving the world might be in Hollywood.
        At the doorway, Old Yeller finds new determination and, with the tug toy, drags Rosie away into the hall. The contract between them is one in which fun is given in return for fun, and neither would think of breaching it.
        For several weeks, Curtis and his new family will be constantly on the move, until he has fully become the Curtis that he wants to be, until he can't any longer be identified by the unique biological-energy signature for which his extraterrestrial enemies-and possibly the FBI-are able to scan.
        Thereafter, the worse scalawags will continue to search for him,
        though by less effective means. They have been at work on this world for a while, and they do not welcome interference with their plans, which are the antithesis of those that Curtis has inherited from his mother. The battle has been engaged.
        He and his four new sisters, his aunt Gen, his brother Noah, his brother Richard yet unmet, and his sister-become will be Gypsies for a long time, because even when he's no longer detectable by scanners, he will be safest if he stays in motion and works in secret. Besides, the job requires extensive travel: You can't save the whole world from an office in Cleveland.
        From time to time, not often but dependably, as he gives the Gift of a dog's dreams, he will encounter people who, once having received this power from him, will be able to pass it along, as he can. Each will go forth in a caravan of his or her own, sharing the Gift with still others all across the world, in every vale and peak of every continent.
        The first of these is Leilani. She will not be going out on her own for many years, but the time will come. She shines.
        Ms. Tavenall passes three more checks across the desk, and this time Noah whistles.
        "I've postdated them at one-month intervals," Ms. Tavenall says. "Use them as you need the money for ongoing expenses."
        She glances at the computer on her desk and smiles.
        From where he sits, Curtis isn't able to see the screen, but he knows what's on it. Earlier, following the card trick, perched upon the lady's chair and holding a stylus in her teeth, Old Yeller, under Curtis's influence, had typed: I AM A GOOD DOG. I HAVE A PLAN, BUT I NEED FUNDING.
        "By the time you've used those three checks," says Ms. Tavenall, "we'll have worked out an entire funding scheme for the long term."
        "I don't know how to thank you," Noah says.
        "I'm the one who needs to say thank you," Ms. Tavenall insists. "You've changed my life twice now… and this time in a way I never imagined it could be changed."
        Her eyes fill with those beautiful human tears that express not anguish or grief, but joy. She blots her eyes, her cheeks, and blows her nose in a Kleenex.
        Curtis is hoping for a huge funny horn-honk of a blow, like Meg Ryan cut loose with in When Harry Met Sally, but Ms. Tavenall hardly makes any sound. She's so discreet, genteel. He wonders if it