FRANK ROSSI

The man with the system. The reluctant visitor. The spreadsheet.

Frank Rossi likes things that can be understood, organized, measured, and preferably entered into the appropriate column. Unfortunately, he lives among people.

He is practical, analytical, stubborn, loyal, and possessed of the particular confidence of a man who knows that somewhere—possibly on his computer—there is information supporting his position. Frank doesn't resist change merely for the pleasure of resisting it. He wants to understand what is being changed, why anybody thinks it needs changing, what it will cost, and whether somebody has considered the consequences.

Usually somebody hasn't.

For Frank, Westerly was never simply a house or a town. His childhood was filled with movement after his parents divorced when he was five—state after state, school after school, seven elementary schools before stability finally arrived. The Westerly house became something more than property. It became evidence that some things could stay put.

That helps explain why the idea of Florida initially sounded less like an opportunity than an eviction from his own life.

Rose understood that before Frank completely did. She gave him room to arrive at change in his own time, which is fortunate because pushing Frank usually produces the same result as pushing a brick wall, except the wall complains less.

Once Frank commits, however, reluctance becomes determination. He notices problems, organizes information, asks questions other people would rather avoid, and has an irritating habit of becoming useful precisely when everybody was enjoying making fun of him.

And somewhere nearby is Sophie—watching him, staying close, and occasionally demonstrating that life's most important things cannot be entered into a spreadsheet.

Frank is beginning to understand that.

He doesn't hate change. He'd just like it to submit the proper paperwork first.