Reno, Nevada, is a casual, friendly city. But newcomers, after being warmly welcomed by Reno's oldtimers, must then get used to the merciless rays of the high-desert sun. Day after day, everything -- the whitewashed walls of the buildings, the waxed roofs of the newer cars, even the snow still topping the mountains in spring -- glitters in the sun. Clouds are rare in this part of the world.

A street known as the business extension of Highway 395 becomes Virginia Street as it veers southward. As the street passes the University of Reno, Professor Bantam is asking his class, "Do you believe in angels?"

He gets some raised hands, a few snickers. But from most of the students he gets blank stares.

"The angel theory hasn't been disproven," Bantam says. "And a lot of well-known people have claimed that it's true. 'We not only live among men, but there are airy hosts, blessed spectators, sympathetic lookers-on, that see and know and appreciate our thoughts and feelings and acts,' Henry Ward Beecher wrote. John Calvin wrote, 'The angels are the dispensers and administrators of the Divine beneficence toward us; they regard our safety, undertake our defense, direct our ways and exercise a constant solicitude that no evil befall us.' "

At that point in Bantam's lecture, one of his students usually presents evidence that an angel has entered his or her own life. Meanwhile, Virginia Street continues to push its way southward, through heavier traffic now. It rolls under the well-known "Biggest Little City in the World" arch. It enters a residential area.

Just before Virginia Street reaches the stately Park Lane Mall, you can see the Virginia Gardens apartment complex on your right. "Gardens" may not be an appropriate name for these grounds; not many flowers bloom here. But tall pines, cottonwoods, and elms do give the complex limited protection from the sun.

Elaine Mavis has bipolar disorder. She is also a refugee from an Eastern city which does not see the sun very often. On Sunday, June 3, 2001, Elaine arrives in Reno. Shortly after, wearing a broad-brimmed hat to protect herself from the sun, she moves her few possessions into Virginia Gardens. Roger, the live-in manager of Virginia Gardens, gives Elaine her first taste of Reno's warm hospitality.

"I'm from Tennessee," he drawls.

"Then you must have had trouble getting used to the high-desert sun too," Elaine says.

"Naww," Roger says. "I'm not afraid of a little sun."

Roger is pretty predictable. He opens his door at about 10 a.m., then just sits there, watching the TV talk shows. He eats lunch, then watches the soaps. He eats supper, then watches the games until bedtime. His always-open door opens onto the busiest part of the apartment's plaza. So he is never lonely, unlike Elaine, who is no expert at making new friends.

Guests are always welcome in Roger's home. Elaine, who has to pass Roger's door when she goes to get her mail, sometimes sees a guest sitting on Roger's sofa. She has only to walk into his apartment, and he will introduce his guest to her.

One of Roger's frequent guests is Nora, a blond, middle-aged woman. Another is Priscillla, a tall, slender brunette whose face contains a certain inexplicable radiance despite its plain features. A third is Lee Ann, the mother of two kids, aged seven and nine. All three women are tenants of Virginia Gardens. Nora and Priscilla, like Elaine, have just moved in. Lee Ann is one of the complex's long-time residents.

"Lee Ann's really poor," Roger whispers to Elaine while Lee Ann is occupied with her kids.

Early one Friday evening, Elaine hears a knock on her door.

"It's Roger," a voice says. Elaine breaks into a smile, opens the door, and invites him in.

"Hey," Roger says.

"Hey," Elaine says.

"You sit here all day, all alone," Roger says.

"Of course I sit here alone," Elaine says. "I've only lived in this town two months, and I don't know anybody yet."

"What do you say we go out for a drink, then come back here and neck?" Roger says.

"I think you're really cute," Elaine says, "but I don't drink." Roger smells as if he has already gotten started drinking today.

"OK, we'll go out to a casino and gamble a little. I got plenty of quarters."

"I don't gamble," Elaine says.

"What do you do?"

"I eat ice cream. Want to go out for ice cream?"

"I don't eat ice cream." Roger smiles, beautiful, charming. "C'mon. A little drink won't hurt you."

Elaine wonders what it would be like to be Roger's girlfriend, his soft, southern voice telling her that he loves her, that he will always be there for her, that she will never have to be alone again --

Another knock on the door.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" Priscilla asks.

"Yes," Roger says.

"No," Elaine says. She breathes an undetectible sigh of relief and shakes the fantasy out of her head. She has only been setting herself up for more pain, daydreaming like that. The fact of the matter is that she knows almost nobody in this town; right now, she needs others much more than they need her. So she has to be careful to hold out until she meets somebody who is not going to take advantage of her neediness.

"Roger and I were thinking of going out for ice cream," Elaine says to Priscilla. "Want to come along?"

"I'd love to," Priscilla says.

Roger storms off. "Ice cream!" Elaine hears him mutter under his breath.

"What's his problem?" Priscilla asks as they head for the parking lot.

"Let's just say you must have been sent by God," Elaine says, "because you came at just the right time."

Nora is a schizophrenic, a closet schizophrenic forced to live on the meager income Social Security provides her with.

Dr. Janssen has been Nora's psychiatrist since she moved to Reno six weeks ago. "Good morning, Nora," he says. "Has the Risperdal been working for you?"

"Yes," Nora says. "I'm so glad I've finally found effective medication. But my sciatica is worse. Can sciatica be triggered by stress?"

"Definitely. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

"Yes, for two reasons. The first one is overwork. I don't know anybody in Reno yet, so I have no social life. Sometimes I have nothing to do but work."

"You need to get some friends."

"I know. But it's easier said than done when you don't know anybody in town."

"You only need one or two really good friends," Janssen says.

"Of course. But you can't just mail order them from some central storehouse. 'Please send me one good friend. Make it a rush order; I'm pretty lonely'."

"What's your other source of stress?"

"You."

Janssen raises his thick eyebrows a fraction of an inch. This furrows his forehead a little. Nora takes the bill his secretary has sent her out of her bag and hands it back to him. A red sticker threatening to call in a collection agency stands out in sharp contrast to the remainder of the blue and white bill.

"The total is $400," Nora says. "I told you on my first visit that I can't pay you, and you didn't tell me you'd charge me. You just said, 'Don't worry about it'."

"Talk to Shella," Janssen says. "She does my billing."

"That's what you always -- " But Janssen is out the door.

"I reduced the bill almost $200," Shella, the billing clerk, says. "What more do you want?"

"But I can't pay $400. Besides, I've seen the doctor six times, and you only put five of the visits on the reduced bill. How do I know you won't -- "

"You have to pay something on the bill," Shella says. "You have to start making good-faith payments. You can't expect me to take more off the bill if you don't pay me anything at all."

"But the balance is $400. I don't have $400."

"You only have to give me a little at a time."

"Shella, I'm having trouble paying for food."

"You have to pay Dr. Jenssen. He makes his living at this."

The last thing Nora needs is bill collectors harassing her. She can feel another breakdown coming on. She reaches for her wallet. If she gives Shella the five dollars she was going to spend at the supermarket, maybe she can get out of here, away from the intolerable pressure, in time to avoid -- "

A new client comes in.

"Priscilla!" Nora says. "I didn't know -- " She stops herself.

"Yes, I'm a consumer, a bipolar," Priscilla says.

"Excuse me," Shella says in a high and mighty tone of voice. "Nora and I weren't finished talking about her bill."

Priscilla reads the terror in Nora's eyes. "Have you billed Medicare and Medicaid for Nora's account?" she asks Shella.

"Yes," Shella lies while giving Nora a look of utter hatred.

"Medicaid?" asks Nora. "I didn't know Medicaid paid psychiatrists."

"They do," Priscilla says. Suspicious, she asks, "Shella, are you sure you billed Medicaid? Nora shouldn't owe you a thing."

Shella pretends to examine Nora's records, then admits her "mistake". "I'll take care of it right away," she says.

The pre-breakdown tension drains out of Nora's body as she walks to the bus stop.

Lee Ann is crying again.

"You can't take care of them," her ex says.

Lee Ann grips the phone tighter. "But -- I love them. How can I send my own children away?"

"You're going to have to. You said it yourself. You earn just barely too much to get Medicaid, and you can't pay their medical bills yourself 'cause your rent eats up over two thirds of your income. You can't even feed them right. You know I have more than enough money to take care of them."

"But you live all the way across the country," Lee Ann says, continuing to cry.

The next day, Elaine again passes Roger's apartment on the way to her mailbox. Inexplicably, his door is shut. Elaine glances into his window. A tall blonde sits on the sofa, laughing, talking, smoking with him.

Elaine notices that Roger is eating something from a bowl on his lap. She looks closer. The bright Nevada sun makes it so hard to see inside apartments in the daytime. It's a bowl of ice cream.

Elaine suddenly feels great love for Priscilla.

Lee Ann stands in a terminal of the Reno/Sparks airport and cries. She cries as she squats down to comb Tammy's hair and straighten Corey's collar. She has prayed for months that God will arrange for her to find the money she needs so that she won't have to send her children away. Hasn't He heard her?

The loud speaker announces the arrival of the kids' flight.

"Mommy, do we have to go?"

"Yes, Tammy. I'll come and visit you." Lee Ann knows Tammy could never understand that she cannot afford to fly out to see her.

"Every week?"

"As often as I can. And I'll talk to you on the phone. You can call me any time you want."

Corey starts crying. Through her own tears, Lee Ann can hardly see who is approaching. The flight attendant?

"Lee Ann?" the woman says.

"How do you know my -- Oh! You're not the flight attendant."

"No. I'm Priscilla, your neighbor."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you. Come sit down with me and talk for a minute, will you please?"

"But the kids will miss their flight."

"We have a few minutes, don't we?"

The flight attendant, who has just walked over, nods "yes".

Priscilla takes Tammy's and Corey's hands as the four of them walk back to the lobby.

"Lee Ann, why are you sending the kids away?" Priscilla asks.

"I have to. I can't support them." Lee Ann starts crying again. "My rent eats up so much of my salary I can hardly afford to feed them, much less pay their doctor bills."

"Legally, you only have to pay one third of your income toward rent," Priscilla says. "And you're entitled to deduct most of your kids' doctor bills from your rent payment."

"In Nevada?"

"Anywhere in the U.S. It's called Section 8."

"I know about Section 8. But I'd have to move into a high-crime Section 8 housing project."

"There's no such thing as a Section 8 housing project. Section 8 is a program, not a type of housing development. Our own landlord accepts tenants on Section 8 subsidies, right here in this nice neighborhood. Didn't Roger tell you that when you moved in?"

"But how could he accept Section 8? You and lots of the other tenants pay $430 a month rent."

"Because we don't need the program. You do. Some Virginia Gardens tenants, the ones who need reduced rent, are already getting Section 8 rent subsidies."

"How come nobody told me about this before?"

"Reno's a very casual city. There's no central agency making sure that everybody knows what services are available to them and how to apply for them. Let me take you to the Reno Housing Authority office, so you can get your rent reduced as soon as possible."

Lee Ann squats down, hugs her kids, and cries again. But this time she's smiling as she cries.

As Elaine again walks to her mailbox, the university's Professor Bantam is telling his students, "Many people believe that, if you pray, an angel walks by your side at all times, whether you know it or not."

Elaine opens her mailbox. She overhears Lee Ann scolding Roger.

"Why didn't you tell me you accept Section 8? All these years, I haven't been able to take care of my own kids, and it's your fault."

"It's your responsibility to enroll in Section 8, not mine." Roger talks very fast and avoids Lee Ann's eyes.

"And I did, once I found out our landlord accepts it. But I almost sent my kids away, no thanks to you."

For some reason, Elaine remembers Priscilla right then. She walks over to Priscilla's apartment. It's vacant.

"Roger!" Now it's Elaine who is yelling at him. "What happened to Priscilla?"

"She's moving out. If you run, you can still catch her."

Elaine runs. Priscilla is just pulling her packed car out of the parking lot.

"Priscilla!" Elaine calls.

But Priscilla drives right past her. A smile lights up her face, as if she can see something -- someone? -- she loves, something Elaine can't see. A glowing light seems to surround her.

Or maybe it's just the bright Nevada sun.