My side trip yesterday on the way back to the RV park had been quite fruitful The auto parts store, a national brand, had the oil, filter and synthetic grease I has wanted to use for some time. After I changed the oil, I was going to service the front wheel bearings and double check the brake pads up front. I'd replaced the rear drum pads this summer while working a welding gig in Tucson. Now, I had the time for the other parts of the system.

While it was early, I took a risk and went back to the café for the chance of another a good breakfast. The place was packed, but before I could turn around to leave, my little pixie girl popped up.

"If you want to eat out on the patio, I can get your order right away." The bright smile was a bonus.
There was enough warm sun showing that sitting outside actually had some appeal. That and the place was jammed cheek to jowl with roughly clad men intent on wolfing down something before a long day at work.

"That would be wonderful, Sonya. Short stack, two eggs over easy and coffee.."

She just nodded, pointing to a door leading outside to a few tables scattered around on a flagstone surface. I found a comfortable chair and moved it to sit with my back to the sun.

I just had time to look over the area before Sonya dropped off my coffee and cream with a quick, "I'll have the rest in a bit."

The door didn't completely close and I heard one of the customers give her a ration for serving me before she got his coffee. Her response was....enlightening.

"Tough. That guy is both local and a regular. You don't like the service here; you are more than welcome to go eat breakfast at the gas station..."

Given what I knew of her recent past, she had either gotten a lot tougher or was certain others had her back. I'd pushed my chair back in case the scene had gotten ugly... In the end, the guy left and I enjoyed my coffee.

Something like 10 minutes later, she dropped a plate with my pancakes and to my surprise, a container of honey. At my look, she simply said, "I asked yesterday, the cook found some extra honey." With another smile adding, "She also said she'd rather have you as a regular customer, if you know what I mean...".

"I do and thanks!"

She hadn't left the tab, so I guessed that meant she was in quite the hurry. That didn't keep me from enjoying a nice and quiet meal with the sun warming my back on a cloudless day. Just as I finished my coffee, Sonya returned, coffee pot in hand.

"Sorry, no more coffee. I've really got to jet. Lots of chores today yet to be done," I held up a twenty, "Good?"

"Perfect." As she gathered up the flatware, she asked, "Tomorrow?"

I had to laugh. "Yup, same bat time, same bat channel..."

Now with a puzzled look, she said, "I'm sorry??"

I laughed even harder. "Sorry, vague reference to a very old TV show. Yes, I'll be here tomorrow and I'll have the same. Is that okay?"

She nodded. "Just come out here straightaway and grab a seat, the old farts don't show up till much later for their coffee and cigarette bull sessions..." Then looking directly into my eyes, she said, "Just tap the window by the register so I know you're here. Okay?"

"Will do. By the way, I should have asked your permission, is it okay to call you Sonya?"

That caused her to stop completely still and turn toward me.

"Around here, folks don't need to ask permission to use someone's first name. So, call me Sonya if you want. That's my name."

"Indeed. Please, call me Moses, if you would care to..."

That got me the brightest smile yet. "I will do just that, Mr. Moses... And yes, I know it's your first name, but the mister just sounds better - to me..."

"Mr. Moses it is then. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

With that, we parted ways. I went back to the RV park and her to her work. There was something about that kid I just couldn't put my finger on, but she was going to important to me at some point in time... I just knew it.


The oil change went without a single hiccup. I checked the valve clearances and they all came up roses as well. Now it was time to start on the front end. I'd moved the bus to the far side of the parking area, opposite my cabin. The office lady had no objection, provided I didn't make a mess. There, a couple of woebegone trees provided some relief from the now very bright sunshine. It was also nice to be far away from anyone that might stop by to kibitz.

Bus jacked up, jack stand in place, front tire removed and stowed under the frame, I got into it. With the brake caliper safely hanging from the shock tower, the dust cover off, the castle nut removed and sitting on a clean piece of cardboard leftover from my oil change, and I was ready to tease out the bearing out of the hub for cleaning, examination and a new slathering of high temperature synth grease.

I heard the auto pull up and park behind my bus. I just had to look to see who had the entirety of a huge – no, make that a massive parking lot and they chose to park right behind my rig... I didn't have to wait very long.

The woman was tall enough to be more than shoulder high to the side window, sported a ponytail of screaming red hair and was built like a model for a fashion house. In other words, she was completely out of place here in Middleton. That could only mean trouble....big trouble. At that revelation, I turned back to my work at hand.

"Excuse me? You happen to be Moses Canyon?"

Perhaps ignoring her might make her go away... I removed the outer bearing, dropping it into the small bread pan next to my leg. Then with the help of my deadfall hammer, started tapping the hub to encourage it to slide off the spindle. Just about then she walked away.

That victory was short lived, as she returned – with a folding chair. Setting it up in front of the bus, I couldn't help but to notice when she folded one shapely leg over the other.

"You should know now; I'm not going away. I'm just that kind of girl..."

I'm ashamed to admit, I rose to the obvious bait. "What kind of girl would that be...a pest?"

"Hardly, Mr. Canyon, if that's who you are. I'm a reporter. I work for the local newspaper."

I put my tools down. "Bull. ****! There is no local paper. I've tried to buy one and was told, more than once, the paper that was here, folded two years ago. Try again, Big Red..."

I had no idea of the game she wanted to play, but starting off with an outright lie wasn't a good game plan. Not that I was going to play to begin with... That name really plucked her twanger, but good.

"My name is Tiffany Crystalake. The Herald-Examiner when Green two years ago. We stopped aiding the deforestation that was..."

I cut her off with, "You went bankrupt. Lost the office and all goods related to your creditors. Don't try that holier-than-thou Green crap with me girl. Go away, I'm busy and don't have time to waste on whatever scam you're trying to pull."

My shot in the dark hit home. Her open-mouthed expression also showed she had yet to deal with real world, in your face, pushback. If she was a reporter, she was so wet behind the ears as to be useless or so used to her stunning good looks that she always had her way in interviews.

She recovered her composure soon enough. "Not a scam. I want to do a story on you and Baby Doe Number 6. My sources tell me that..."

"Stop! Go dig in some other pit if you want to splash your ghoulish crap online." I glared at her, "NO COMMENT!" After a second's pause, I added "And you make up anything and try to attribute as a quote, I warn you now, I have a lawyer on retainer – and he lives to tear into mass media jerks..."

To my great surprise, she looked as though I'd just hit her with a closed fist. Tears were starting to form at the corners of her eyes...

Had I come back too hard? After all the crap I went thru on Nancy and Buster's deaths, I had zero tolerance for ghouls in the news biz.

We just sat and stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time.

She finally broke the silence. "My apologies Mr. Canyon. I was touched by your kind gesture to an abandoned child and thought it worth a story in our publication. Yes, the paper end of the business folded, but our online edition still sells advertising and we have garnered a couple of State level awards for our reporting." The tears didn't help....

I leaned my head over to the wheel well for support. The sigh was just a bonus statement from me.

"Look Miss...Crystal, if that really is your name and I doubt that. I have my reasons for that last bit. In my defense, I'll just say your approach was more than a little off-putting..."

That caused her to learn forward in the chair, looking very intently at me with what turned out to be very deep green eyes...

I blurted out, "Are you by chance, any relation to Sonya, the gal that works at the café?"

Caught by surprise, she replied, "Yes. She's my youngest cousin. Why? You haven't been hitting on her, have you?!?"

It was my turn to recoil just a bit.

"You must think very poorly of all men if you think I would stoop to hit on a kid. Holy crap, woman, what's your problem...?"

The mutual glaring contest started anew.

The sun actually moved in the sky before she blinked.

"So, what approach should I have used?" This seemed genuine and also convinced me I would never understand women. Talk about shifting gears midstream...

"An honest question deserves an honest answer."

I went back to teasing out the inner bearing still trapped inside the hub. She remained silent for several minutes as I completed the task.

"You might have introduced yourself, then identifying to me that you worked for an online publication." I paused for a bit as I wiped the grease off the bearings.

"Then, stated you were working a Baby Doe story and asked for any comments. All very neutral... It would have helped if you laid out the theme of the story - like the story was to be crime focused, human interest or so on."

Here, she closed her eyes, not trying to wipe away the stream of tears now flowing down her face. Folding her hands in her lap, she remained both silent and still, like a statue.

I interrupted her funk with a question. "Excuse me, do you happen to currently be pregnant?"

Her eyes snapped open, and if looks could kill, I was sitting in a puddle of my own blood.

"What the hell kind of question is that!"

I held up the can of brake cleaner, and then tapped my finger on the label.

"I asked because this product label claims bad side effects for pregnant women if exposed to the vapors... Oh, and that it can kill salamanders in California. I know I'm not pregnant, and I'm not a salamander. So, just being polite to ask before I spray off my bearings..."

She stood up, folded her chair and walked away. Not stormed away, just walked. I knew victory was lost when the car didn't start....

I was nearly finished with the bearings. They were both in excellent shape and just before I started the greasing of the pair I heard a voice behind me...

"Excuse me - I'm sorry as I see you are busy. May I steal few moments of your time? My name is Crystalake, Tiffany Crystalake. I work for the Herald-Examiner, an online news reporting site. I'm working a story on a local event; an abandoned child and I understand you were involved."

I looked over to see her squatting on her heels, just out of reach, but close enough I could smell her perfume. It reminded me of the scent used by Nancy... I nearly lost it right there. Still, those green eyes were, were so bewitching.

"Glad to meet you ma'am. You obviously know my name – what can I do for you?"

"Well, let me buy you lunch and have a discussion over that lunch. I see the story as one of man who, despite being in a hard, cold world, took the time and took a real risk to help one of the most helpless sorts of people I know of in the world these days..."

She won right there. A total victory at many levels.

"Fine. Why don't you open the side door and have a seat. We can start now while I finish with the bearings."

Once she was seated, her first question was a bit odd.

"If I may, how old are you? I only ask to give my readers a framework for the actions you took."

"Do I really look that old?"

I had to ask, one never has a real clue on their looks as received by others, despite what the shaving mirror might say.

The soft reply floated down to me, "Yes and no. You look to be a hard case, but I know that's from hard experience, not age. Still, I was honest in both the question and the reason for asking it."

"Okay. I'm 38 this year. Before you ask, I had 10 years in the Corps, four of those in the sandbox and Africa."

That caused a sharp intake of breath. "My God, what did you do?"

"Tried my damnest to stay alive, something not too easy on most days. I came out in second place. I was medically discharged about 8 years ago. I think that worked best for both me and the Corps. Good enough?"

"More than I had wanted but thank you so much. I'll not use that desert part, but it does matter, just the same."

"Next?"

"What was the crack about Sonya?"

More proof about women. That was such a shift; it could have given lesser men a bad case of whiplash....

"It wasn't a crack. She works at the café and seems like a real nice kid. The red hair and the green eyes are not all that common in this area. I jumped to the conclusion you might be related. Sorry."

"Well, it was an honest jump. I'm sorry about the hitting on her part. It's just that...

"Assholes hit on her - all day, every day. That would explain the baggy blouses and knee length skirts. After what I heard this morning, I think she's growing a thicker skin and an attitude that will help in the long run. May I ask how bad it was for you in college?"

"You may not."

"No problem. How about your major?"

"You first."

"What makes you think I did the college thing?"

That caused her to pause for a bit and allowed me to concentrate on getting the castle nut on the spindle just tight enough, but not too much.

"Okay, Mr. Moses, I can't really say. Call it reporter's intuition. But I know you have a real education..."

"Who am I to argue with an ace reporter? Yes. But, if you laugh, I'll smack your knee." That knee was hovering just a few inches from my shoulder. I had ulterior motives for asking her to sit in the doorway...

"I wont' laugh, if you won't"

"Deal! Now, you go first..."

"Nope. I asked first. Being as I'm a lady and all..."

"Northern Arizona University. Cultural Archeology. Not Anthropology – I'm not so full of myself as to even guess how people used the bits of widgets I was looking for."

"How in the world did that lead to the Marines?"

"Uncle Sugar paid off all my student debt. All they asked in return was for me to be a really bad human target for a few years. They were kind enough to pay for my Master's to boot."

"Thank you. I'll bet that dissertation is a real barn burner.
I'm 26 by the way and my first major was in Child Psychology. I was two years in before it really dawned on me that I was facing a lifetime of being a cog – a very small cog, in a vast, and uncaring bureaucracy or starving to death in private practice. So, I brilliantly changed my major to Industrial Design."

"I agree. That was truly brilliant. Not a lot of women in that field, if I recall correctly. So, pretty bad then?"

"My drawings were good enough I was offered a full ride scholarship at Cal Poly."

"Kudos. Why did you bail?"

"I'm sorry . How's that?"

"Simple logic. You were in California, and obviously not a player. Despite a killer figure and obvious...talents. You're now here as a small-town cub reporter trying to change the world. Someone pressed to test and you like as not handed them their ass. I'm assuming here the industrial design comes from working on a farm or ranch, and thus, you have the ability to sort out, rather quickly, anyone stupid to try and paw you... Was he a postgrad or a Professor?"

I could feel her stare.

"I'm not clairvoyant. I just happen to know a lot of stupid men, many college educated."

She harrumphed a couple of time before admitting, "They published my dissertation at no cost to me as part of the court settlement. I also agreed to not publish anything about...him."

I had to lay out on my back to catch my breath, I was laughing so hard. She leaned over, arms on her knees, string down at me...

"Would you care to share the joke with me, my man?"

"You as a legit reporter. Oh my God. What a world-class troll. Epic! Do you send copies of your stories to the alumni association?"

She started laughing. "Guilty as charged. I understand you can hear them squirm all the way down to Oxnard..."

After disposing of my mess, putting the tools back in their proper location and double checking the wheel lugnuts were good and tight, I asked, "Where for lunch?"

She paused, giving me a very long look that I hadn't seen in some time. "How about my place? Private enough to chat without worry some local gossip would get an earful."

"Umm, huh. And speaking of local gossips, how will that look, to have a man at your place and in the middle of the day to boot? I would think the gossips would have a field day."

She laughed. "They would be wondering how we will pick out the names for our grandchildren. I was born and raised here, believe me, I know how this all works..."

"Okay by me, I'll be gone in a week or so, you'll have to live with the fallout."

"And when I don't have a baby bump to show off, that will be the end of it. I can take care of myself against the local biddies. Been doing it for years."

"Fine by me. I'll follow you to your place.."

It was a short trip; Middleton is just small. The place was nice, sitting back from the road and with some shade trees on the South side of the building.

She pulled up and waved at me to pull in, up to the garage. Once I had shut off the engine, she walked over to say, "You still need to do the other side of your van, yes?" At my nod, she added, "Good, we can do that after lunch."

With that she turned and unlocked the solid wood door, before opening it wide and gesturing for me to enter. Inside, the light was subdued, curtains blocking most of the sun that made it past the trees outside.

Dropping her rather substantial purse into the couch, she asked, "What do you want for lunch?"

"What's on the menu?" No sense asking for something she lacked ingredients to make.

That netted another very long look, then a smile.

"Pancakes are out. I can do Belgian waffles, French toast, peaches and heavy cream. The peaches are fresh in from Santaquin."

I was so tickled I didn't get the expected 'Coffee, tea or me' that I had expected. "Peaches sounds great, any iced tea?"

"Black or green?"

Before I could reply, she added, pointing to "Get over here and stick your hands out..."

After I did just that, she sprayed some soap from a pump bottle and directed me to start scrubbing... While occupied with this task, she removed three peaches form the fridge and proceeded to cutting them up on a small plastic board that had been hidden inside the countertop.

"Okay, you should be good, go ahead and rise..."

I held up my now very messy hands and replied with "I don't want to make a mess of the faucet." I was hoping for a close encounter as she reached for the taps.

"Look at your feet." She paused for a second, "The left side pedal is cold water, the right side hot – and I mean real hot. Press them both and wait for the green light on the faucet, you have 100-degree water..."

This was a surprise, and the first time I had ever seen such a setup. But, just as she'd said, the water was perfect to rinse off the soapy mess on my hands.

"Towels are in the middle drawer, just hit it with your knee to open."

This worked as advertised and as I was wiping my hands and arms dry, she filled up a small teapot. This she sat onto another section of the counter, before touching something out of my sight.

"Have a seat, I'll be done in the jiff..."

As I sat at the table parked in a small nook off to the side of the kitchen, I took in the total look of the place. The 'atomic clock' hanging on the wall was a real classic from the 50's. The table and chairs looked to be the same vintage, heavily chromed pipe frames with nicely padded seats and backs.

"Nice table and chairs. Did you find these locally?"

"Nope. Assembled them myself. Manufacturer sent me the lot to assemble and vet the instructions as printed. Preproduction flat-pack prototype for the set. The table is solid oak, but stained for the color." A second later, she added, "Put the chairs back to back..."

When I did that, I could see one was a bit smaller than the other. Then it hit me, "These come two to a box to save on shipping?"

"Actually, it can be up to four to a box. Nice, yes?"

"Four?" I couldn't see how that would work...

"It's all in the packing." She sat two bowls on the table, "Been a best seller for a couple of years now."

After staring at my bowl of peaches, I had to ask, "How did you get picked for the vetting...all the way out here?"

She laughed as she poured the hot water into a carafe', dropping in some teabags. She then put a set of glasses filled with ice cubes on the table. The carafe' came next. She finally sat down across from me.

"I did the assembly to QC their work. Since it's my design, they wanted to know about any glitches before they went into full production. Who better than the designer for that bit, eh?"

The second I spoke, I knew it would sound either stupid or at worse, condescending. "You did this?"

"No, silly. I designed this, did the basic engineering drawings and helped with the production layout. The factory built this... Now, eat your peaches before they get to warm."

I finished my lunch in complete silence. I carried my own service, dropping the dishes into the sink. Then I went back to sit again, with Tiffany watching every move.

I looked directly at her before saying,. "Sorry. I must sound like quite the..."

"Lunkhead. I think is the term you would be looking to use here. Cut yourself some slack, how many industrial designers do you know?"

"Well, including you. One."

She laughed for a good long time. A she laughed, I could feel a loneliness growing inside. An emotion I'd I had banished tears ago.

"Moses, don't look so glum. I came up with the faucet setup for a design contest run by the maker. That got me the auto you see outside. With the contest win, came other offers. I found one that had terms I could live with. The kitchen was my next big project. The maker liked the whole, 'Designed by a woman for women' tag. I get a fractional cut from each sale. My house is paid for..." She wrinkled her nose before adding, "Of course, back a few years, before all the out of towners showed up, things were a lot cheaper."

I had the grace to actually blush. Her next question floored me.

"I hate to ask this, Moses. But are you... Ahhh, not interested in women?"

I stared at her for an eternity. "What?"

"I asked if you were interested in women. It's cool if you aren't - I get it.."

I honestly did not know how to answer this; I'd never been asked such a question, so boldly, in my entire life. The hell?
I settled for "Why do you ask?"

She closed her eyes. "I ask because we have been together for a couple of hours, counting the parking lot... You are the first man I've run across since I was a junior in high school that didn't desperately try to crawl into my pants within the first three minutes of meeting me. That or run away screaming. That's why. Sorry if you find that offensive... Everybody has their own lifestyle choices these days..."

How to answer would require some thought. I gain a bit of time; I cleaned up her meal things before returning to the table.

"First, I'm not offended..." Her face just fell with that bit. Which said volumes all by itself.

"Although I'm not used to such...direct questions. I do like woman. I was married once, a few years back. As for not slobbering all over you, I'd like to think of myself as a gentleman. A gentleman takes his time to develop something of a relationship before anything physical might start. Old fashioned, perhaps, but that's my worldview."

I waited a full minute before adding, "Does that help? You are a stunning beauty, and have a very sharp mind to boot, if perhaps to some, you are a bit...indelicate. If you're really asking if I'm interested in you, my answer is....it depends."

Here I stood to avoid what could become an awkward moment. "I need to get the rest of my bus maintenance done for the sun goes down. Care to join me?"

To my delight, she sat cross legged next to me, seemingly content to hand me tools and make idle chatter over nothing. As I finished up cleaning my tools and squaring away the bus, she asked innocently enough, "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"I do, actually. I was going to run out to the Stateline and check out the cave system. I hear it is quite the visit. It will also serve as a check run on my maintenance just performed to ensure my ride to Alaska is trouble free."

She shyly asked, "Care for some company?"

"What exactly did you have in mind? It's not lost on me this is a camper bus.."

"Oh, you'll be safe from me. I'm quite the good girl..."

"Are you serious about going? If so, cut the crap. It's not something I need right now, okay?"

Now contrite, she simply said, "Yes. I'm serious. Normally the school system makes a field trip out to the caves as an end of school year treat for the junior class. I missed that year, because I had a shift to pull. Sorry."

"Fine. I'm eating breakfast at 7 AM, mostly because I promised Sonya I would be there. You can join me at the café, okay?"

She reached out to touch my arm. "That would be...perfect. I'll see you there." Her "Thank you," came out as a whisper.

Back at the cabin, I took a very long and very cold shower. This thing with Tiffany was something so new I couldn't make heads or tails of it. But – tomorrow might give me a better idea of what was going on inside her noggin...

We both sat in silence until I pulled into the parking lot for the caves. I paid the entry fee and we were lucky enough to catch a tour that was just starting. After entering the cave via a double door airlock, I was able to forget everything else and just enjoy the beauty provided by Nature. At one point, the guide shut off the lights to show us what total darkness was in reality. That was then Tiffany slipped her hand into mine and gave it a bit of a squeeze. It had been far too long...
A few minutes after we started back to Middleton, Tiffany spoke up, "My turn. My real last name is Stroud." After a pause, she went on, "As in the Middleton Stroud's, that is." Looking at me, she said, "I wouldn't expect you to know. It's a Founding Family thing and the reason most everyone has moved to Salt Lake City. When the big Ag types started moving in, Dad sold almost all of our land but kept his water rights, those rights he leases out. He's made real bank. That's why I could afford to go to college."

As if running out of steam, she went silent. That was fine, it was a long drive back, she would say what she wanted, when she wanted.

The sudden outburst was startling. "When I got back to town, too many treated me like a local version of a Disney Princess. You know?"

I had to laugh. "All your problems will go away if only a big strong man comes into your life?"

"You do understand!"

"No, I don't understand. That whole thing is so out of my experience – the meddling, the unwanted advice, the pressure. I have no real clue of what you've had to put up with." I looked over at her, "Honestly. It's just a meme for me, you had to put up with the ****..."

"You, Sir, understand more than most. One of the Bubba's that got shoveled at me took it to mind I was his woman... We never even had a single date. Just an introduction at a friend's party. That's it. See?"

"I can guess scary as hell...stalking, lots of phone calls, emails and the toad showing up in front of your house, at all hours, maybe at night?"

When I glanced over, she was staring at me so intently it was...frightening.

"What did you do to stop it? You're here, so I know you didn't shoot the bastard..."

"Almost did. The Sherriff wouldn't do anything. To be fair, he was up to his ass in alligators. I filed for a protective order. Denied. So, I went over to Fillmore and bought a Government Model 45, and six boxes of ammo. Then I forced my cousin, a former spec ops guy, to show me how to properly shoot. It may have leaked out that if this jerk showed up again, I would be ready..."

I was laughing so hard, I almost had to pull over to stay in control.

"And so your place on the crazy-hot curve was set forever. Sorry I laughed; it's most certainly not funny. Still, I got to admit, a classic fix to an ugly problem."

"Yeah, well, maybe too good a fix. Now anyone that might be the least interesting runs away like I'm a..."

"Madwoman with a big-assed gat." That stopped me cold. Another thought had just occurred to me."

Rather than say what had just hit me, I said, "I need to take a detour here in a bit. That a problem?"

"So long as that detour isn't to the local hot springs to go skinny dipping, detour away..."

I just tapped the screen on my phone. The GPS lady came to life advising me I had five miles to my turn...
The sign front of the office trailer pronounced that we had arrived at "The Rock Shop". I didn't say anything to my passenger, she could follow if she wanted to or not. Either way, it didn't matter to me.

Walking up the front desk, I said, "Hi. I'm Mr. Canyon, I called late yesterday?"

The kid behind the desk gave me the once over before speaking into a microphone next to her terminal. "Otto, your scrap guy is here." Looking back at me, she said, "Outside, to the right you'll see an open shed. Otto will meet you there."

Then turning back to her terminal, I saw that I was completely dismissed. With nothing more than that, I went back out and headed for the open shed in the distance. I heard the door on the bus slam, so assumed Tiffany would be following along shortly.

I was met before I reached the shed by a short man; one wearing overalls, dusty workbooks and with a pair of heavy gloves sticking out of a back pocket. This just had to be Otto...

Sticking out his hand, the man shook mine saying, "Follow me, I'm sure I got what you're looking for..."

We trekked around a long line of side-stacked rock slabs, and then over to the fence line where a large stack of obvious work scraps was piled.
Pointing, Otto said, "This batch is pink granite, mostly polished on one side – the other is some really nice blue granite, but it costs a lot more per pound."

Pointing to another stack further down the fence line, "That's the black granite and most of it isn't polished or even ground true. The rock is cheaper, the work is more expensive. You got an idea of what you want to have engraved...?"

I fished out my phone and brought up what I had written last night. Handing the phone to him, I waited for his feedback. His opinion as the expert was what I had come to get prior to making a buy.

Looking up from the screen, he asked, "How long is the name?"

"They are all the same. Ten characters, to include the spaces."

He nodded and I could see him counting with one hand, lips moving. This went on for several minutes, by then Tiffany had arrived and unbidden, taken my hand.

Otto finally spoke. "Okay. Two lines, no less than 18 pitch, maybe a bit bigger when I see what you have picked out. Anything you pick has to be at least four by six inches, and you can go eight by ten to keep the same perspective. Rock costs by the pound, I have to have that. I'll do the engraving at cost..."

I stuck out my hand, "Deal! Where to I bring my picks?"

"Just drop then at the front of the shed. You'll see a large blue tub full of sealant. Just drop 'em in there. I'll weigh 'em and get the final cost to your email for approval. I can start engraving tomorrow morning. Is that fast enough?"

"You have my approval right now. I'll pick a couple of spare pieces, in case something turns out bad, like a hidden crack or that."

He nodded in agreement, shook my hand, handed me a tape measure and with no more than that, walked back toward the office.

In the ensuing silence, Tiffany spoke, "Okay, big boy. What's this all about?"

I handed her my phone and walked over to the pile of blue rock. I had found my first piece when she joined me. It looked like I could go eight by ten with the number of polished pieces showing.
It took more than two hours before we dropped the dozen slabs in the soaking tub. Both of us were also very dusty, hot and sweaty. Stopping by the office to check out took just a moment, and then we climbed into the bus. Tiffany waited until we were back on the highway and at speed before she spoke.

"Nothing for Baby Jane? That doesn't seem..."

"I have a request in for a quote over at the foundry in Toole. I'm asking for a bronze plaque. I should get that quote by tomorrow. You were saying?"

"I was saying it's not too late to turn around for a dip in the hot springs..."

"Sorry, kiddo. As tempting as that is right now, I've got to get back, shower, shave and made myself presentable for the county Board meeting tonight. I appreciate the offer, but maybe a rain check?"

"Better yet – how about dinner after the meeting? I've got some wicked good shrimp in the freezer."

"After the meeting?"

She laughed, "I cover all the Board meetings because, so few actually bother to show up. Open meeting laws don't mean squat if nobody is there to keep their feet to the fire."

"Shrimp, eh? What else is on the menu?"

"We can decide that after the meeting, eh?"

"I guess we can at that..."

As I pulled up to Tiffany's home, she glanced at her watch, then said, "Moses, it only just past three. Why don't you come in for some iced tea?"

"Well, that sounds very much like a trap... What's your motive?"

After she stopped laughing, she replied, "To help you, you big galoot. The Board really lacks an imagination, and that's not a bad thing in a small town politico. I'm assuming you are going to request permission for placing the new markers... I'm thinking some simple graphics would help..."

Now it was my turn to chuckle. "Not an issue. In chatting with Doc McCarthy yesterday, that came up. Bottom line, I've already sold the markers to the County Coroner for a penny each, as a 'durable replacement item' under the current no-bid rules in place." I added a smile. "They have exactly squat to say about it. I have the receipt for sale and everything, should they fuss."

"Okay then, why?" She seemed genuinely puzzled.

"It's about dirt."

"Dirt?"

"Well, the lack of ground cover. The burial field is sprayed twice a year for weeds and gets no watering. This in an effort to stop weeds to begin with. I honestly get that part. The side effect is that the place is utterly devoid of any sense of nature – completely dehumanizing, as if the people there just don't matter, but are just a step above trash. I'm going to suggest seeding the area with dwarf while clover. The kind I going to pitch for the clover rarely grows over two inches tall, fixes nitrogen, thus no fertilizer is ever needed, and the stuff is crazy drought resistant. All of this will save the Country some dough, which is my main selling point. No spraying, no mowing. I'll even pay for the seed, its stupid cheap."

"I'll have to say, Moses, I'm impressed. Do you always think this far ahead?"

I had to shake my head. "Where I can do that, I do. Call it my logistics Jones from my days with the Corps. If I can't plan ahead, I can at least hope what I carry with me can cover a problem. Since the field isn't going to move, it makes that part simple."

"Okay. But I still think a simple graphic would help them see what you are shooting for. Change comes slowly, if at all, here once a thing or process has been around this long... The upset apple cart meme."

"Since you put it that way, and I am thirsty." I opened the door and finished with, "Let's see what you have in mind..."
Once seated inside, Tiffany put two glassed filled with ice on the table. The little teapot she sat on the stove, then said, "Give a few minutes while the water boils, then we can get started..."

With that she headed off deeper into her home and the sound of running water quickly filled the room. Just as the teapot started to whistle, Tiffany ran back in to shut off the stove and pop a few teabags int the steaming pot.

She had obviously changed; she was wear a hot pink...set of sweats? She was wearing something other that what she left the room in- that much was obvious. She wordlessly moved past me to the wall, depressed a section and reach into a now exposed cubby to remove several items.

When these were placed on the table, it appeared to be a laptop and a small pad of some kind, bracketed by a trackball and a conventional mouse. She poured the tea into our glasses, with the ice cracking loudly in the silence filling the room.
She settled into the seat opposite of mane and said, "Thanks. I just had to rinse off. I'll take a proper bath after you leave." After typing rapidly, she started a stream of one-way conversation.

"Okay. The Google Earth overhead view is pretty recent. So, I cut and paste... Then we find you clover.." Here she looked up. "Got a name or brand or something I can use..?"

I pulled out my phone, tapped it a couple of time, then passed it over to her.

"Ah! Got it. Now to find some kind of large area photo..."

While she pursued her digital quarry, I just sat and sipped my tea, fascinated to see her at hard at work. The ponytail flayed as she snapped her head around from side to side, fingers flying. Finally she looked up.

"Here, I've made a composite for the field on a before and after basis. Not perfect, but should give them a clue..."
She turned the screen to face me. "Your thoughts, Sir?"

I could only shrug. "Looks about right, as should work..."

Turning the screen back to face her, she started at the image.

"You know, this needs something more. An attractant. Some reason for folks to visit, which I'm thinking is your real reason for the ground cover. Yes?"

"You don't miss much, I'll give you that. If you have any ideas, let'er rip. I'm clueless here. Not being familiar with what might work in Middleton, I decided on safe..."

In reply she just sat and started at the screen, brow furrowed in concentration.

Her head snapped up to look at me, "Got it. Flower pots!"

"That's going to be a tough sale. No pots or growing flowers are allowed in the public cemetery now. They can get out of control, look like hell when wilted and can be a real mess to clean up. Not to mention the issue of possible vandalism, sad to say. Make those out of terra cotta or wood and you are just asking for trouble."

She nodded, staying silent. Her mind was obviously going a million miles an hour.

"Uuuum. Okay. How about Art that can hold some wildflowers. Local ones. Here, look at this.."

I moved over to sit next to her as she used the trackball to draw out a flying saucer, or that least half of one."

"Here's a classic bowl shape, and now the same under for a support." She clicked and spun the trackball... "The we put scallops into the support base, to give the illusion of legs, add some side braces...: The halves will be joined in the middle with a bolt and welding, with small openings around the perimeter to allow rainwater to quickly drain, smaller holes on the bottom will allow real drainage. The side supports will be welded and mostly decoration, but still providing some bracing."

"The vandalism part?"

"These will be made of nickeled stainless steel, the bases can really be a three quarter round, so burial will make them stable, but they can roll over of pushed hard enough. If that happens, anyone with a shovel can put them right fairly quickly. Instead of flowers, you could use annual succulents; some have flowers, small enough to stay inside of the bowl..."

She turned to look at me. "Something wrong with any of this?"

Stammering, I could only spit out, "You came up with all of this - off the top of your head?"

"Well, yes. The college used to hold snap design competitions. They had both group and singleton contests. I hated the group stuff, you always had people trying to take credit for your ideas. The singleton contests you sank or swam on your own. I did pretty well for myself; the prize money came in handy for drawing supplies."

"Damn. I'm impressed. How about costs? I'll foot the bill for this, just how, where and how much?"

"You'll need three for symmetry. I've got a guy in Spanish Fork, used him a couple of times for my welded stuff. Stainless is tricky and has to be done just right. I'll get a quote by tomorrow."

She turned back to the laptop and typed rapidly again, I wen t back to my seat to finish off the tea. Tiffany had talents I had no clue about. No wonder the folks at Cal Poly had offered her a full ride scholarship...

"I'll add these to your graphic. For ongoing plant maintenance, the local garden club may be interested. I know a few of the ladies... I'm willing to bet someone will step up."

"I see. I can pitch it as an offer. If the local club buys in, the County gets an Memorandum of Understanding, listing the will and won't. This protects both sides. The Boards buys off on the final MOU, then we can build the flowerpots..."
After bit more thought, I threw in, "I'll go ahead and offer a performance bond. I'd say five grand would cover things. If the Art turns sour or the club abandons the project, the bond will pay for removal and disposal, no cost to the County. Term of coverage would be...three years."

At this, I got a funny look from Tiffany. "Moses, are you sure you can afford all of this?"

"Yup. The Buster Canyon Memorial Foundation has covered other projects like this. I control the Foundation; Bruce does the audits and keeps the IRS happy and off our back. The Five Oh One cee Four rules we chartered the Foundation under require we disperse a certain percentage of the fund yearly, aggregated over five years. So, I'm good for the tab. Anything else?"

"Maybe get back to your cabin and shower? The Board meeting is in just over an hour. I'll meet you there. Time flies when fun is at hand...yes?"

I didn't answer as the door shut behind me by the time she finished speaking.

After the Board meeting, I waited for Tiffany in the parking lot. She insisted we enter separate and leave separately as well. I could only surmise this was owing to her having some history with the Board members and she didn't want that to impact on the presentation. I found this to be humorous as in this small a town, everybody likely knew we were working together on something.

I had been able to keep my presentation short and to the point. To my great surprise, the Board approved the addition of the clover to the 'cemetery annex' and they seemed willing to wait for another meeting to see about the Art pieces. The new marker stones weren't even mentioned.

I was leaning against the front of the bus, looking at my phone for any messages from a friend Anchor Point. I'd asked for a cost to hydro-axe the area around my cabin before I got back into the area. It was just one of a number of things I needed to get started if I was going to be able to have any time for the run of King salmon that usually ran in late June.

Tiffany walked up to me, accompanied by two women. Both seemed to be much older than her. Before I could open my mouth, she jumped right in...

"Moses, this is Jen, my Aunt and her friend, Mrs. Colby. They are part of the local gardening community council. They have a question for you ..."

"Ladies, my pleasure. How may I be of help?"

Mrs. Colby spoke first, "Young man, I was quite impressed with your pitch to the Board. We've been trying, for years, to get the old goats to approve something, anything, for that horribly barren area... The idea to use clover had never occurred to any of us."

I could only say, "You are most kind, Ma'am. I can't take much credit, as I've seen it used in other parks with great success. That this subspecies is so drought resistant, it only made sense to suggest it for use."

Jen added, "I wonder if you have some free time day after tomorrow? We will be having our monthly lunch discussion and I think the rest of the council would love to hear about what you seem to have planned for the Potter's Field area. It has been an issue with us for some time, as it just looks so...shabby."

I looked at Tiffany, and she just mouthed, "Please..."

"I would be pleased to share my ideas of what might be possible for the annex. Can you give me the details?"

After the pair had left, I looked at Tiffany. "Okay, give...my plans? Three flowerpots is not a plan."

"How about we go over than while we have dinner? I walked over to here, so if you don't mind?"

We sat in the bus, silent as the little bit a traffic cleared out of the parking lot. I had to wonder what brand of sunshine she'd blown up their skits prior to the Board meeting. That the sunshine involved me, I had no doubt.
*
After shutting the door, Tiffany pointed to her divan and said, "The shrimp is thawed, have you thought about what you wanted to go with?"

"Hard to say, I don't know what you have on hand... I can say, no pancakes..." I waited for her laughter to slow down before continuing, "No wine." Here, I paused for effect, "I don't drink, period."

"Noted, Moses. Nor do I. How about some garlic toast and something green? The neighbors have a greenhouse, so I do have some fresh asparagus. I'll sauté them in real butter..."

"Sold. What can I do to help?"

She smiled. "Get comfortable, take off your shoes and tell me a story." She paused for a second, then added, "Or tell me why you did what you did out there when you found Baby Jane..."

While a bit of a surprise, the question wasn't completely unexpected. I was surprised some total stranger hadn't braced me about that in the last couple of days. On the other hand, my reasons were my own and nobody needed to hear them.

"In that case, you get a story. Not even a war story. I've put in multiple grant applications to perform a new type of survey of a known and in work archeological site, preferably Neolithic A or earlier. One that hasn't been fully developed to date. I 'm trying to target Pre-Pottery Neolithic A sites; hopefully one with some signs of agriculture."

She laughed again, it was like a waterfall of sound. "Translated into English that I understand?"

"Fair enough. Someplace with stone tools, an established site, not a camp. A place where ovens to make pottery haven't been discovered or have been ruled out."

"How old would that be, in round numbers?"

"Between 10,000 and 12,000 years ago."

She turned and stared at me for a few seconds. "That old? Is there anything left to look at?"

I had to chuckle. "Plenty. In fact, up by Salt Lake City, these is Hogup Cave, an active site." I held up my hand, "Before you get any ideas, cave sites won't work for what I want to do?

She sat a pot of water on what I now assumed to be a stove and tapped the countertop a couple of times. That she walked over and sat right next to me.
"So, what do you want to do?"

I was ready for this one. "Drone based aerial photogrammetric surveys to map out potential water sources, grain fields and all the other things that can make a site the location of a permanent or long seasonal habitat. Then use that as shot for a doctoral thesis. Once I land the grant, I suspect that University will entertain the drone based survey idea to form the basis of adding to the current toolset."

She nodded slowly. She then cautiously asked, "Do you need the funding?"

I had to chuckle. "No. The grant is to get my foot in the door with the University working a site. Academia is the ultimate NIMBY or not invented here mindset. Too many big egos, all trying to protect their turf and funding. It's sadly, quite the racket in too many places."

'I see, Moses. How about, the rest of the story?"

"The rest?"

"I have had just a few hours with you, but I can tell you that your lack of love of Academia is not the reason for your...quest. I'm pretty sure that a desire to add P,H and D after your name is the last reason you are chasing this..."

She had me there. "You win. The military has incredible amounts of drone footage, all geoindexed to within a few inches, of places no scientist has been or is likely to visit in the near future. I can only hope to be able to leverage that data into something useful for future archeologists. Old CORONA spy sat images have yielded some surprising finds and that data was rudimentary, at best."

With that, she kissed my cheek and said, "How toasty do you like your toast?"

I could only sit dumbfounded while she finished prepping our dinner and dished it out onto the table. We ate mostly in silence, a comfortable silence, where one needn't say a thing to enjoy the company one is with at the moment. With dinner finished, and the hidden dishwasher loaded, she took me by the hand and we sat back down on the divan.

"First, Tiffany, that was a super meal. Thank you. Second, now will you answer my question about the 'plans' bit with the nice flower ladies?"

She looked up at the overhead, clearly gathering her thoughts. It didn't help me when she put her hand on my leg and gave it a squeeze.

"My friend in Spanish Fork sent a reply and a counterproposal for the flowerpots. His proposal is a bit more...involved and is going to be a lot more expensive. That's why I really, really wanted you to be at the flower luncheon. "

I didn't want to feel used, but that feeling was starting to creep into the back of my mind, and that would be a shame. Every time in the last five years anybody got wind of the money I could access, things had gone to **** in a hand basket. That was one of the reasons I enjoyed living in near Bush Alaska. No people to bother you, if you didn't want to be bothered...

I didn't want to sigh, not really. Instead, I just said, "Lay it out. Sell me first."

In reply, she went back to the wall cubby and pulled out what seemed to be a large tablet. Once functioning, she tapped the face of the tablet until an image appeared. She turned to me and held it up.

"Atreus thought the flower pots didn't have enough vertical development, and so he sent this to me. This would sit between the cemetery proper and the annex. Serving to link them together, a common focal point."

She tapped the screen again, "The flowerpots could then serve to define the Annex area. The clover, if we can talk the Board into it, would flow between the two and at the end, we would have a complete space. One where everyone would be, hopefully, comforted."

She placed the tablet into my outstretched hand. The proposed change was another Art piece. From the drawing, it looked to be between six to eight feet tall. As drawn, it was structure of six legs, with a series of bowls winding around the legs until the top, where the legs terminated with a figure. Each bowl was smaller than the one below and by the time the string ended, the last bowl as about hand-sized. The figure was fuzzy in the drawing, as if the artist was unsure of what might be acceptable. I assumed to bowls would hold more of the succulents.

It was striking, it was unique and it was something I saw as completely unneeded. To be fair to both Tiffany and her friend, I leaned back in the divan and just stared at the drawing. I closed my eyes and tried to see how it might fit. Having never been to the site, I was finding it almost impossible to see how this would work.

"Let's go for a drive. I've not been to the site, so I want to see where you think this should be placed."
The sun was just a hand's width above the horizon when we arrived. Tiffany had me stand at the front of the bus in what seemed to pass for a parking area, a gravel lot. She then walked over to a place that made some sense to her and held up both arms, full length, legs just a bit more than shoulder width.

"Right about here. It will be this tall, more or less, depending on the figure. No lights, but made out of the same stainless, so a bit shiny, a dull shine, in the direct sunlight." As she spoke, she slowly turned, as if to make a point. When she waved me over, I joined her.

"Now. Stand right here for a bit." She walked away, stopped about 25 to 30 feet away. "The first flower pot goes here." This was repeated twice more, then she returned to my side.

Pointing, she said, "you can see the rest of the regular cemetery there. The fence is the far end of the property set aside for cemetery use." Turning, she pointed back the other direction. "The fence line there is the other end. The Potter's Field section was started back in 1910, I think. A traveler died in a railroad accident and nobody claimed the remains. The town put the body here, assuming someone would be along to claim them. Here we are."

I nodded. "My turn. The rest of the story?"

She looked at the ground. "The other, taller, hexapod would go into the city center park. That one would hold wildflowers." She stopped talking.

"Go on. This just didn't come out of the blue." I worked to keep my tone level.

Feeling used wasn't new to me, but it also was not recent.

She took my hand and said, "Let's go to the res... We'll talk there."

With her directions, we wound up at a reservoir, a fairly large one. One that I had to assume fed the irrigation system. By now, the sun had set, the moon was well up and that moonlight shimmered off the surface of the water.

I shut down the engine then turned to the woman sitting next to me. "Alright, Tiffany, here is where you explain how you aren't using me for something..."

Her reply was soft, almost inaudible, "Using you?"

"Yes. Using me. I've an open mind, but this last bit is... Well, you tell me."

She sat silent, for a very long time. I wasn't going anywhere and my seat was comfortable enough to sit in all night, if needed. I'd done just that more than once.

She finally spoke. "I guess you can say I'm using you, like a lever or maybe even...dynamite. Can you recall the words used by Mrs. Colby? About trying to get approval from the board?"

"My memory is intact. Yes, I remember. The operative word I think you are making your point over is 'years', yes?"

"Almost, Moses. The word I'm reaching for is 'change'. I warned you that between inertia and so-called history, change is rare. Better put, damn near impossible. Yet in a matter of a couple of days, you 've caused changes that some of us have tried forever to make. I want to ride that momentum. I saw the Art pieces in the Annex as an opening for something new at the park. That's all."

This last bit came out as a whisper.

"Okay, Tiffany. I'll cede your point. On the other hand, I need to you consider something else. Something so obvious, that it may have escaped you in the moment."

She looked at me with a tear-streaked face. "What" was all she said.

"Three years ago, I might...might have agreed. But with all the new construction, all the new strangers in town, the troubles and everything else that have some and have yet to come with the new solar plants has been an earthquake to the underpinnings of the town and the social norms developed over the last decades."

Now, I set my voice to be a bit harsh. "The most I'll do for these new hexapods is to introduce them to the flower club and ask if they would raise the funds to build and maintain them. I'll still fund the original flowerpots as I see that as a real plus to the whole cemetery vibe."

I reached over an put my hand under chin and force her to look directly at me.

"You and your two friends will have to carry the weight on the rest."

I dropped her off in front of her house and returned to my cabin. I didn't know if I should be angry, just used or if it would be even sane to continue with this infuriating woman...
The next morning found me at the outdoor patio of the café, sitting in my now usual chair. I'd slept badly, with visions of Nancy and Buster's funeral's playing over and over in my head.

The cup of coffee landing in front of me snapped me back to the here and now. A familiar voice said, "I'll be right back."

Soon enough Sonya reappeared with my pancakes and honey. Only today she was wearing a brightly colored blouse and form fitting slacks. Adding to my surprise, she sat down across from me.

"Yesterday was my last day here. School starts soon and it was a split paycheck, tax thing my boss tells me. Besides, I'd like to talk with you for a minute, if that's okay?"

I just nodded. This was going to be at least as interesting as last night, or as bad.

"Look, I want to apologize. My question the other day was a bit out of line. Tiffany has her own look out, I have mine."

She leaned forward, with an intensity I'd yet to see.
"Oh, crap. Here it comes," I thought.

"Just so you know Mr. Moses, Tiff is bat-**** crazy about you. I don't know how you did that, but all mom could talk about last night was you and Tiff, as a couple. She's never talked about my cousin like that, ever."

She leaned back before continuing, "Also, and you might know this, everybody in town thinks you are all that and a bag of chips, because of the Baby Jane thing.. Here, she really smiled, "I think you're just the sweetest man I've met. I think you'll be a great addition to the family."

To my credit, I didn't choke on my mouthful of pancakes, but it was a near thing.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, I asked, "Going back to school?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I lucked out and got a calculus class to go with my organic chem class set. If I get lucky next semester, I'll have all the grunt classes out of the way for my degree at State next year."

Sipping my coffee gave me a minute to try and digest all this she just dumped in my lap.

"But, you're still in high school, right?"

"Yes. The college and the school district cut a deal a few years back, instead of offering Advanced Placement classes, they just offered the college course instead. They're all distance learning anyway, and we get credit against a degree, if we pay a registration fee per credit hour."

"Let me guess, your tips have covered everything to date?"

"Yeah. I'm going to need to take out a loan or something for the actual degree work at the U. Mom and Dad don't have that kind of dough..."

I just nodded. "Had any luck with scholarships or grants?"

"Right now, no. Pell Grants are out – I have both parents and don't fit their demographic model." She looked up, "That is to say, dirt poor. We're just average both parents working poor."
I could only answer, "I see. What major are you chasing?"

"Agronomy, with a minor of Ag Business. Nobody wants to fund farmers these days. It's all about STEM." She shrugged, "I've got an outfit online that claims they can help with finding funding. I'm waiting to hear back if they're legit or a scam."

"Smart move. Too many folks out there looking to fleece new students."

"Yeah. Look, I need to go, but I have a request."

"That is...?" I couldn't help but to anticipate a cringe in my near future.
"Please have the wedding here and not Alaska. I don't think I could afford to go that far for her wedding..."
No matter how I answered, I was screwed. "That's getting way far ahead of things, Sonya. We'll just to see how things play out. Okay?"

"Good enough, Mr. Moses. Thanks for your time. I gotta go and the cook says this one is on the house...."

With nothing more than that, she walked away; humming what I supposed was supposed to be a happy tune.
*

The drive back out to The Rock Shop might have been a time for some quiet introspection of the events last night. Due to my lack of sleep, it was a struggle to stay awake. Happy to say, long practice and an empty road allowed me to arrive alive.

Entering the trailer based office presented me with the scene of both Otto and an older woman, huddled over the terminal screen. Rather than say anything, I took a seat on the somewhat battered couch against the wall and waited to be recognized. It only took my leaning back and resting my head on the wall to zone out.

Reality snapped back when a hand lightly touched my arm with a voice saying, "Mr. Moses! Are you a doctor needing now?"

Otto was hovering nearby, a very concerned look playing across his face. I shook my head and leaned forward.

"Sorry, Otto. I just had a bad night is all. Didn't get a lot of sleep. Are you free now?"

"Um gesund zu sein, braucht man Schlaf...You must rest. Are you here for your markers?"

,,"Yes. I saw your message this morning. I appreciate the fast work, and I'm willing to pay a premium, if that is a normal billing procedure for you."

"Nien, Mr. Moses. We work quickly on small projects. I have a new machine my son has found. It uses a jet from water to make the etching, very modern, ya?"

"New tech is the bobdiggity, no doubt. How much do I owe you for the lot?"

Otto walked back behind the desk and sat at the terminal. It took him a few minutes but he managed to prod the system into producing a printed invoice from the printer sitting on the shelf behind his seat. He wordlessly handed it to me. The numbers were plain and far less than he had quoted me over the phone just two days before.

I looked back at the older man and stated, "This isn't right. I am more than willing to pay a fair price, the one you gave me over the telephone was more than fair. Why the drop?"

That got me a big smile in return. "Gott weiß, wer sich um die Kleinen kümmert, und so werden ihnen Segen gegeben, ya? So, I wish the little ones to smile on me as well. You can share with me these smiles. Come, we go look."

I followed him outside and over to a smaller building, one that had no windows. Inside was a large machine and to one side, my little pieces of stone. Otto picked one up and handed it to me.

"This is as you desired, ya?"

The etching was...perfect. The depth allowed just enough shadow to make reading it easy...'Here rests Baby Doe 1, known only to Heaven above'
The second line, aligned with the first, read, 'Now home, they share the joy of reunion '. Around the edges was a light interlacing filigree with tiny flowers every few millimeters... I was stunned.

When I looked at Otto, he smiled again. "My son, he find a app, he calls it. To use for no charge to make the stone...with the flowers. Pretty, yes?"

"More than I could have hoped. This is...beautiful."

"So, you are happy, and now, I am happy. The little ones, now maybe, can rest a bit easier."

With no more than that he took the stone from me and placed it in a heavy cardboard sleeve, then added it to the other four sitting in a reinforced cardboard box. He walked back to the office, sitting the box outside, to one side. Once I had signed the credit card receipt, Otto added a one-off comment.

"You can tell Emil that I will have Lisel to bring the ground spikes and resin tomorrow to his office. This takes a few hours to harden and I wanted your approval before the spikes were added. Yes?"

I felt stupid. "Ahh. Emil?"

"Ya. Emil McCarthy, you know him. We have talked about you together."

The light bloomed, "Yes, of course...Emil. I will visit him next, in fact. Once again, Otto, I want to thank you for your generosity in this, it is quite remarkable."

"Maybe where you live, this is unusual. Here, it is the way it is today. Please drive with care. If you wish to nap, I have another couch in the back of the other office space..."

"No, but thank you just the same for the offer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go..."

He just waved as he took the seat behind the desk once more. I loaded the box into the side door of the bus and headed back toward Middleton. I had wanted to go right over to Tooele and check on the bronze piece, but it seemed I had a meeting with Doc McCarthy first...
Finding the Coroner's office was simple, now that I knew of the 'secret' location. On entering I was surprised to see Doc McCarthy waiting for me at the window. He held up a hand.

"You can drive around back to unload the markers; I'll meet you there."

True to his word, I found him standing next to a large roll-up door. It took just a minute to transfer the box of markers inside and he pointed to a door at the back of the space as he activated the door mechanism. Once back in his office, I took the proffered chair.

After I declined his offer of a cup of coffee, he sat back and sipped his for quite some time. I was happy to wait to see what he might say, as I assumed it would be instructional, as always.

"I have to say, Moses, you've cut quite the swath for as little a time as you've been in town. Tell me, to what do you owe your success?"

This was a puzzle, "You win Doc. What success?"

I had to wait for his laughter to slow, and then stop. This was going to be good – or so I could hope.

"You sell yourself short, Mr. Canyon. Half the town thinks you and Miss Stroud have been engaging in world-class bedroom gymnastics and judging by your looks, it has been a most energetic time together..." Holding up his hand, he went on, "All BS of course. I happen to know, for a fact, your little vixen is as straight-laced as a preacher on a Sunday morning. But, that won't stop the gossips. You two are the hottest topic in town, at least for now."

"I'll admit, Doc, that particular bit is the best I've heard in some time. Beats all the other crap thrown my way."

"Tell me, Brother. Anyway, gossips aside, what can I do for you?"

"Simple. Otto asked that I pass along that Lisel?... will bring you some kind of spike and the resin..." I shrugged, "I assume you know what this means."

"Ah! Excellent. The spikes are used to keep these little markers in place. We're not allowed to put them on proper concrete foundations as that might make later exhumation more difficult and thus, more expensive."

I just nodded. Frost heave was unlikely to be a problem, so something simple would work to keep thing tidy.

'Got it. When I was out there screening and pulling scrap, I picked a dozen pieces, all 8 by 10, Otto still has the rest of the lot. My thought was seeing these Baby Doe markers, someone local might step forward and pony up for another marker for one of the other folks buried there." Here, I could only shrug.

'Well, you've plucked someone's stings. The foundry over in Tooele called and asked me to pass along a message. Seems they managed to lose your contact data and would you please call them." He held out slip of paper.

I took it from his hand and tucked it into my shirt. It was nothing that couldn't wait for a few more minutes – plus waiting would give me a chance to cool off a bit.

"You seem to be plugged into the gossip loop, let me ask this... What's the deal with Tiffany and the kerfuffle in SoCal?"

He leaned back in the chair and took a long drink from his coffee. "First, what exactly did she tell you? Sorry to have to ask, but much of what we've discussed, Tiffany and I, is...confidential. You see?"

I had to blink a couple of times before replying with a stupid sounding, "Yes, of course." I took a minute before saying, "Now that I think about she told me exactly - nothing. I assumed this was from embarrassment. I also assumed that someone on staff or a post-grad tried to put a move on her and got thrashed for his stupidity." After a short pause, I added, "And perhaps I assumed too much?"

"Waaaay too much, Moses. Before I go on, tell me where you think this will go.."

"You win, what 'this' ?"

Doc laughed, and for a good while to boot.

"I'm not blind. Neither is anyone else in town. We all see how strongly you two are attracted to each other, that is as plain as the nose on your face- even if you two refuse to see it. I also know you have some...history and may not be ready to play the game again. That's what I'm really asking. Are you in the game or not?"

"For Finagle's sake, Doc, I've only just met the woman!"

"You've been together for most of the last two days, my question stands. If it helps, I met and married my wife after just a week. That was twenty years ago... So?"

"Your're a hard-nosed SOB..."

"Moses, stop dodging. I might be willing to share what I know, but first – I have to know how you see Miss Stroud."

He had me there.

"I honestly don't know. We had a falling out last night and have not talked yet today."

"At some risk of being indiscrete, care to share the topic of contention? You didn't try anything...did you ?"

"We argued over my thinking she is using me to pay for something she wants." I tried not to sound petulant, but failed, miserably.

Rather than say anything, he got up out of his chair and poured himself another large cup of coffee. This time he also opened a bottle fished from his desk drawer and poured a good sized shot in the coffee.

The cup was half empty when he said, "What I am about to tell you goes nowhere – ever. I want you word of honor, as a Marine Crops Officer, on this, Moses."

That demand for my word of honor was a slap in the face and a good indication that I may have utterly misjudged Tiffany.

I settled deeper into the chair and after a minute, I said, "I may live to regret this, but you have my word, on my honor as an Officer of the Corps, that what I hear now will never be divulged. Ever."

Doc just nodded. "Good enough then. I knew Tiffany before she left for college. Her mother and my wife ran in the same circle."

I just nodded an acknowledgement.

"When Tiff was a senior, a couple of the local...boys had trouble understanding that when she said she wasn't interested in what they were offering, that meant they should back off and leave her alone. After an ugly incident at a school dance, one of her cousins asked me to go with him as a backup – strictly in the shadows. He confronted them and strongly suggested if they continued in their stupidly, even a cadaver dog would not find all the pieces.

"If I were to guess, Doc, these dips weren't bright enough to take the hint?"

He snorted. "Three of them tried to take him down. One was in hospital for a week, at some point he'll be able to use his arm fully again. The other two were treated and released. I'll have to say, as a Ranger, he showed remarkable restraint. Happily, the cops wrote it off as a misunderstanding. Tiff didn't have any trouble for the rest of the year. Her first year at State was indecent free, halfway through her sophomore year, she picked up a stalker."

He took a long hit on his coffee, then started up again. "The cops got that sorted out and the," he mumbled here for a bit, "got deported back to wherever desert hellhole he crawled out of. Still, she got spooked enough to change majors."

Doc drained his coffee cup. "Switching to the design thing made a world of difference. She really blossomed and was good enough at her work that on graduation, she was offered a full ride scholarship at Cal Poly to work on a Master's."

I nodded. "She did mention that much. She also hinted she had some kind of problem there..."

Shaking his head, Doc replied with, "Yeah, she had a problem all right. As she was just ready to graduate, one of her professors invited her to a graduation party. He just didn't mention it was a party of two."

I had to cringe. "How bad?"

"Bad enough. She got the knife away from the guy and from talking with the ME over there, beat his ass - but good. But..."

"Oh, ****... a classic But..," I thought. "Go ahead, I'm sitting down."

"Yeah. The prof had never had a student turn him down, later investigation showed. I suppose he wanted to save face or something. He used his own knife on himself and called it in as a murder attempt."

"Holy sweet Jesus..."

"Yeah. Looked grim, for a bit. Her fingerprints were all over the damn knife..." He paused, as if considering another shot. "Dumbass managed to kill himself, waited too long before calling 911, I suppose. The ME was a bit fuzzy on that part, but the dolt had consumed a massive amount of alcohol."

"I know I wouldn't have heard anything about this in Alaska, but how did they cover it up?"

He snorted again. "Turns out, his old lady was suspicious of him and had a couple of nannycams hidden in the home. Two other coeds also outed the SOB during the investigation. She was cleared before it really hit the papers. The school quashed the rest and offered Tiff big money to go away and keep quiet."

"Ahh. Big money?" I knew this was going to hurt.

"Yes. Big, California big, big money."

"Oh, just... ****."

"You didn't know. Her folks know and they live out of town. I know, because she laid it all out for me one day. That was back when I was looking for a full time assistant. I told her it would be a waste of her education...and it would be, a waste."

He stood up and put out his hand. "This is where you tell me you need to drive over to Tooele and see a man about a marker..."

I at least stopped for gas and a very large soda before I left...

With the window down and the music up full blast, the drive was pretty pleasant – so far. The bus was running great and I was able to run at just over 60 per, everything stayed cool and this was a good indicator that the trip to Alaska would be a smooth run.

My GPS lady started squawking before I got into town proper, not surprising, a metal work would be a bad neighbor for anyone but a dedicated industrial area.

The company name left little to the imagination - Fertigungsanlagen Metallkraftwerks GmbH, clearly indicating a home-grown, long-time Utah company that my searches showed had recently been acquired by a larger European conglomerate.

The lady I had talked with on the telephone seem to understand what I was looking for, so I had assumed, that word again, a quote would be a piece of cake. Assumed had been killing me all day... The loss of my contact data was my fault, I should have sent a follow-up email, but had failed to do that. Being in a hurry always caused issues, little or big, and I should have learned that lesson by now.

Two turns and along drive later, my GPS guide announced I had arrived. The place had a pretty serious industrial vibe, but a new looking office building place sat out almost on the road, glass front and all. Certainly, the place looked too modern for a outfit that had been doing foundry and machine work for decades. Maybe that European money was being put to use.

I parked and walked into an empty room. The wall had both a listing of name & numbers, but the counter lacked an attendant. Walking up the counter proper revealed a button marked as Drücken Sie die Taste für den Service. I could sort that much out and pressed to test. A few seconds later, a younger woman appeared from a doorway and joined my on her side of the counter.

"Yes?"

"Good morning. I'm Moses Canyon." I fished the paper, still unread, from my pocket, waving it around, "Your company left a message for me. I had asked for a quote on a small bronze plaque?"

"Moses? Is that correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am, that is correct."

"A moment, please." She picked up a handset and punched in a number on an unseen keypad. A bit later, she stated, "Zelda? Ya. Das ist Lina. Your transporter fellow is here." She nodded at whatever answer she got in return and then placed the headset back in its cradle.

"If you please, Zelda will be here to collect you very soon. She asked that I apologize for us, together, as I carelessly and foolishly lost your data." She turned a definite shade of red, something rare for me to see.

"Ahh, look...Lina. Not a problem. I wanted to take a drive today anyway."

To this, she just turned a deeper shade of red. Before I could jam my foot any deeper into my own mouth, a woman blew into the room, radiating such...energy that I was momentarily taken aback.

I took stock of the new arrival. A full 160 cm on a good day, and I doubt she would tip the scales anywhere near 50 kilos. Her hair was jet black and done in some kind of severe braid, worn like a ponytail.

She put out her hand, saying, "I'm Zelda, Zelda Harriman, I head the digital Kraftwerks. My partner is Zachary Gold. Come, he wants to meet you now as well."

I waved at the still silent Lina and followed. I was still struck by Zelda's eyes, a strange shade of violet. While this wasn't a legit rabbit hole, the situation was taking on a otherworldly vibe. Maybe I was just tired, still...

It was just a short walk to a cramped workspace. Not quite a closet or storeroom, this space clearly, to me anyway, was originally never meant to be an office. The back wall held a side to side desk, one hosting several monitors and under which squatted what had to be some kind of industrial computer. On the left was a printer and the other wall held up...I had no idea. In the middle of this sat a bear of a man.

"Look, Zack, Lina has found your bus gentleman!"

It was time to put on the brakes here. "Excuse me? Bus gentleman?" I didn't want to sound ugly, but this was from left field...

The bear stood and turned around. If he lost his gig here, I was certain any number of teams would sign this guy as a linebacker. He stood a bit taller than me and had a smile that would light up any room he entered.

"Yes. Good morning. Zelda is most correct; I am looking forward to meeting you very much!" He pointed to a seat, "Please have some time with us both."

I sat down and waited. The rabbit, I was beginning to fear, would be along any second.
Zelda saved the day when she handed me a newspaper. Below the fold was a large image of me guiding in the medicvac chopper. The caption was...unwelcome. "Hero saves infant abandoned on rural roadside." Just the kind of tabloid crap I hated.

"Mr. Canyon, you seem...displeased at the newspaper. May I ask why? Zelda's question seemed sincere, and was soft-spoken, telling me I really needed to work on my poker face.

"In the US, I assumed it was customary for a news outlet to ask permission before using an image of a person. I was not contacted. May I?"

I took the paper to examine it. It took just a second to see the paper was a local rag, mostly reprinting wire service crud and feeds from Salt Lake. I scanned the article and quickly discovered the air ambulance service had released the image and story as PR ploy. They likely saw this as a chance at some free publicity; I chose to see it as an invasion of my privacy. Worse, it had my name and listed Alaska as my residence.

I looked back up at the pair. "May I keep this? I need to send a copy to my attorney, there might be implications I'm not aware of..." At their look, I hastily added, "I'm not on the lam, it's a privacy thing."

Zack looked between the both of us before asking, "Vas ist das... lam?"

I had to laugh. "Sorry. I am not in trouble of any kind with the authorities. I'm just very protective of my privacy. I've had past dealings with newspapers and found them to be...less than truthful when they have an agenda."

Zelda waved a hand. "Of course, the paper is yours. What we wanted to show you was the design for your plaque request. Zack had assumed your request is related to the story of the...infant." She leaned over and lightly touched my leg. "If this is not the case, I am so..."

I patted her hand before giving it back, "Nothing to apologize for, the plaque is for just that infant. She did not survive the night. It seems that the mother was a heroin addict and the baby was born, also addicted. Not to mention she was very premature, often a side effect of maternal drug abuse."

The pair just sat and stared at me for a couple of minutes, not doubt processing the bad news. "Yes, the quite harsh reality of life can be startling, to say the least. Now... You were going to show me...?"

Zack recovered first, turning he tapped one of the keyboards. The monitor on my side of the long desk flashed to life. Six different images popped up. Each held the message I had given in my quote request, but each was very different.

Here, Zelda spoke so softly as to make it hard to hear her words over the hum of the computer fans. "When we left a message with the Coroner, in our attempt to contact you, he indicated to us that he was very aware of the situation. He also said the format size had been determined by you. Using that data, we proceeded to craft these prototypes."

She continued with, "None of us are aware on any...religious context you wish, and these sorts of...products, often have such, as part of the design. Given the words you left in your original contact, Zack and I came up with these designs, each with what we believe are appropriate..."

Indeed, each of the designs held these words "Born innocent of any sin, Baby Jane Doe has returned home to the love she was denied here".

Zack now chose to speak. "We tried several ways to make this symmetrical, with the three-line format we saw as the best fit. What do you think?"

Each design was unique. I stared at each, weighing what might be a light touch. Two were heavy on small Angels, normally appropriate. Given the situation, both were out.

"What kind of flowers are these?" The last image used just a few flowers and was quite tasteful in my view.

"These are a stylized Carnation, we have both fully bloomed and can have just budding flowers as well." Zack tapped his keyboard and I watched as the display changed instantly. "You see these can be quite varied. I can show them," he started tapping again, "in profile, a three quarter view and a normal or classic overhead view, as though the viewer were holding the blossom in hand..."

"I see. Can you run a line off each side of the name line, with the flowers getting smaller toward the end, to make the line bit more...distinctive?"

Zack's answer was to start typing, pausing for each iteration of the flowers requested...

Finally, I was able to say, "Perfect! Right there..."

I now turned fully to face Zelda. "How long before you can get this cast?"

To my surprise she said, "Thank you. We can have this to you just after lunch." At my dumbfounded look, she continued, "Zack and I are here to launch a new ultrafast prototyping service, especially in metals like brass or bronze." Pointing to the odd box at the side, she said "From this CAD image, we cut a precision ceramic mold with this machine. This mold goes to the foundry, where it is filled with a kind of bronze powder. Then it goes into what is called a parasitic oven, which is on the back of the regular melt furnaces. There is enough vibration and heat to ensure the mold fills completely when the powder melts. If needed, the machine shop can flatten the back of the piece or make any adjustments per the customer. All much newer than the additive process used by many..."

"I'm impressed. How much will this cost, I ask as I have not yet received a quote..."

Zelda looked at me quite intensely. "If you will sign a release, so we can use this product to show the accuracy of the process, we will waive any change." She held up a hand to forestall what she expected to hear, "We will replace the baby's name with a series of Xs – place holders. Our managers are most anxious to have a few real-world examples to introduce this new process. Do you see?"

"And my privacy?"

"No mention of you or Baby Jane will be released. Only Zack and I will have the full story. You happen to be the first, as we have just this week finished testing of our system here in Utah."

This offer required some real thought on my part. "I'll get some lunch, come back and look at the release, then decide. Otherwise, what is the cost?"

She held up a finger and started typing on her keyboard, while Zack kept working away on his. "Today, with tax, just under three hundred US dollars. The metal we are going to use is recycled from a shaping operation and is also part of the testing. To date, this kind of metal has shown to work the best, being annealed in the earlier casting. As a plus to this use, this bolsters our claims for recycling and controlling waste." She made a face, adding "It should keep the bean counters happy as well, yes?"

I had to laugh at this. "Always the bean counters..."

Her next comment was a surprise, "If I may, I would like to take you to lunch as our guest. We should have never lost your contact data, and this cost you time and fuel for the trip here. Think of it as an apology on our part."

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

She laughed, "At home, we would have some schnitzel and beer. That is not possible here. So, a steak and some good coffee?"

"I take it you have someplace in mind? I'm a complete stranger, despite having travelled through Tooele a few times. None of these involved anything more than gas station food..."

"Then we are both saved. Lina has made friends with a nearby steakhouse. They are familiar to us."

With the window down and the music up full blast, the drive was pretty pleasant – so far. The bus was running great and I was able to run at just over 60 per, everything stayed cool and this was a good indicator that the trip to Alaska would be a smooth run.

My GPS lady started squawking before I got into town proper, not surprising, a metal work would be a bad neighbor for anyone but a dedicated industrial area.

The company name left little to the imagination - Fertigungsanlagen Metallkraftwerks GmbH, clearly indicating a home-grown, long-time Utah company that my searches showed had recently been acquired by a larger European conglomerate.

The lady I had talked with on the telephone seem to understand what I was looking for, so I had assumed, that word again, a quote would be a piece of cake. Assumed had been killing me all day... The loss of my contact data was my fault, I should have sent a follow-up email, but had failed to do that. Being in a hurry always caused issues, little or big, and I should have learned that lesson by now.

Two turns and along drive later, my GPS guide announced I had arrived. The place had a pretty serious industrial vibe, but a new looking office building place sat out almost on the road, glass front and all. Certainly, the place looked too modern for a outfit that had been doing foundry and machine work for decades. Maybe that European money was being put to use.

I parked and walked into an empty room. The wall had both a listing of name & numbers, but the counter lacked an attendant. Walking up the counter proper revealed a button marked as Drücken Sie die Taste für den Service. I could sort that much out and pressed to test. A few seconds later, a younger woman appeared from a doorway and joined my on her side of the counter.

"Yes?"

"Good morning. I'm Moses Canyon." I fished the paper, still unread, from my pocket, waving it around, "Your company left a message for me. I had asked for a quote on a small bronze plaque?"

"Moses? Is that correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am, that is correct."

"A moment, please." She picked up a handset and punched in a number on an unseen keypad. A bit later, she stated, "Zelda? Ya. Das ist Lina. Your transporter fellow is here." She nodded at whatever answer she got in return and then placed the headset back in its cradle.

"If you please, Zelda will be here to collect you very soon. She asked that I apologize for us, together, as I carelessly and foolishly lost your data." She turned a definite shade of red, something rare for me to see.

"Ahh, look...Lina. Not a problem. I wanted to take a drive today anyway."

To this, she just turned a deeper shade of red. Before I could jam my foot any deeper into my own mouth, a woman blew into the room, radiating such...energy that I was momentarily taken aback.

I took stock of the new arrival. A full 160 cm on a good day, and I doubt she would tip the scales anywhere near 50 kilos. Her hair was jet black and done in some kind of severe braid, worn like a ponytail.

She put out her hand, saying, "I'm Zelda, Zelda Harriman, I head the digital Kraftwerks. My partner is Zachary Gold. Come, he wants to meet you now as well."

I waved at the still silent Lina and followed. I was still struck by Zelda's eyes, a strange shade of violet. While this wasn't a legit rabbit hole, the situation was taking on a otherworldly vibe. Maybe I was just tired, still...

It was just a short walk to a cramped workspace. Not quite a closet or storeroom, this space clearly, to me anyway, was originally never meant to be an office. The back wall held a side to side desk, one hosting several monitors and under which squatted what had to be some kind of industrial computer. On the left was a printer and the other wall held up...I had no idea. In the middle of this sat a bear of a man.

"Look, Zack, Lina has found your bus gentleman!"

It was time to put on the brakes here. "Excuse me? Bus gentleman?" I didn't want to sound ugly, but this was from left field...

The bear stood and turned around. If he lost his gig here, I was certain any number of teams would sign this guy as a linebacker. He stood a bit taller than me and had a smile that would light up any room he entered.

"Yes. Good morning. Zelda is most correct; I am looking forward to meeting you very much!" He pointed to a seat, "Please have some time with us both."

I sat down and waited. The rabbit, I was beginning to fear, would be along any second.
Zelda saved the day when she handed me a newspaper. Below the fold was a large image of me guiding in the medicvac chopper. The caption was...unwelcome. "Hero saves infant abandoned on rural roadside." Just the kind of tabloid crap I hated.

"Mr. Canyon, you seem...displeased at the newspaper. May I ask why? Zelda's question seemed sincere, and was soft-spoken, telling me I really needed to work on my poker face.

"In the US, I assumed it was customary for a new outlet to ask permission before using an image of a person. I was not contacted. May I?"

I took the paper to examine it. It took just a second to see the paper was a local rag, mostly reprinting wire service crud and feeds from Salt Lake. I scanned the article and quickly discovered the air ambulance service had released the image and story as PR ploy. They likely saw this as a chance at some free publicity; I chose to see it as an invasion of my privacy. Worse, it had my name and listed Alaska as my residence.

I looked back up at the pair. "May I keep this? I need to send a copy to my attorney, there might be implications I'm not aware of..." At their look, I hastily added, "I'm not on the lam, it's a privacy thing."

Zack looked between the both of us before asking, "Vas ist das... lam?"

I had to laugh. "Sorry. I am not in trouble of any kind with the authorities. I'm just very protective of my privacy. I've had past dealings with newspapers and found them to be...less than truthful when they have an agenda."

Zelda waved a hand. "Of course, the paper is yours. What we wanted to show you was the design for your plaque request. Zack had assumed your request is related to the story of the...infant." She leaned over and lightly touched my leg. "If this is not the case, I am so..."

I patted her hand before giving it back, "Nothing to apologize for, the plaque is for just that infant. She did not survive the night. It seems that the mother was a heroin addict and the baby was born, also addicted. Not to mention she was very premature, often a side effect of maternal drug abuse."

The pair just sat and stared at me for a couple of minutes, not doubt processing the bad news. "Yes, the quite harsh reality of life can be startling, to say the least. Now... You were going to show me...?"

Zack recovered first, turning he tapped one of the keyboards. The monitor on my side of the long desk flashed to life. Six different images popped up. Each held the message I had given in my quote request, but each was very different.

Here, Zelda spoke so softly as to make it hard to hear her words over the hum of the computer fans. "When we left a message with the Coroner, in our attempt to contact you, he indicated to us that he was very aware of the situation. He also said the format size had been determined by you. Using that data, we proceeded to craft these prototypes."

She continued with, "None of us are aware on any...religious context you wish, and these sorts of...products, often have such, as part of the design. Given the words you left in your original contact, Zack and I came up with these designs, each with what we believe are appropriate..."

Indeed, each of the designs held these words "Born innocent of any sin, Baby Jane Doe has returned home to the love she was denied here".

Zack now chose to speak. "We tried several ways to make this symmetrical, with the three-line format we saw as the best fit. What do you think?"

Each design was unique. I stared at each, weighing what might be a light touch. Two were heavy on small Angels, normally appropriate. Given the situation, both were out.

"What kind of flowers are these?" The last image used just a few flowers and was quite tasteful in my view.

"These are a stylized Carnation, we have both fully bloomed and can have just budding flowers as well." Zack tapped his keyboard and I watched as the display changed instantly. "You see these can be quite varied. I can show them," he started tapping again, "in profile, a three quarter view and a normal or classic overhead view, as though the viewer were holding the blossom in hand..."

"I see. Can you run a line off each side of the name line, with the flowers getting smaller toward the end, to make the line bit more...distinctive?"

Zack's answer was to start typing, pausing for each iteration of the flowers requested...

Finally, I was able to say, "Perfect! Right there..."

I now turned fully to face Zelda. "How long before you can get this cast?"

To my surprise she said, "Thank you. We can have this to you just after lunch." At my dumbfounded look, she continued, "Zack and I are here to launch a new ultrafast prototyping service, especially in metals like brass or bronze." Pointing to the odd box at the side, she said "From this CAD image, we cut a precision ceramic mold with this machine. This mold goes to the foundry, where it is filled with a kind of bronze powder. Then it goes into what is called a parasitic oven, which is on the back of the regular melt furnaces. There is enough vibration and heat to ensure the mold fills completely when the powder melts. If needed, the machine shop can flatten the back of the piece or make any adjustments per the customer. All much newer than the additive process used by many..."

"I'm impressed. How much will this cost, I ask as I have not yet received a quote..."
Zelda looked at me quite intensely. "If you will sign a release, so we can use this product to show the accuracy of the process, we will waive any change." She held up a hand to forestall what she expected to hear, "We will replace the baby's name with a series of Xs – place holders. Our managers are most anxious to have a few real-world examples to introduce this new process. Do you see?"

"And my privacy?"

"No mention of you or Baby Jane will be released. Only Zack and I will have the full story. You happen to be the first, as we have just this week finished testing of our system here in Utah."

This offer required some real thought on my part. "I'll get some lunch, come back and look at the release, then decide. Otherwise, what is the cost?"

She held up a finger and started typing on her keyboard, while Zack kept working away on his. "Today, with tax, just under three hundred US dollars. The metal we are going to use is recycled from a shaping operation and is also part of the testing. To date, this kind of metal has shown to work the best, being annealed in the earlier casting. As a plus to this use, this bolsters our claims for recycling and controlling waste." She made a face, adding "It should keep the bean counters happy as well, yes?"

I had to laugh at this. "Always the bean counters..."

Her next comment was a surprise, "If I may, I would like to take you to lunch as our guest. We should have never lost your contact data, and this cost you time and fuel for the trip here. Think of it as an apology on our part."

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

She laughed, "At home, we would have some schnitzel and beer. That is not possible here. So, a steak and some good coffee?"

"I take it you have someplace in mind? I'm a complete stranger, despite having travelled through Tooele a few times. None of these involved anything more than gas station food..."

"Then we are both saved. Lina has made friends with a nearby steakhouse. They are familiar to us."
*

It wasn't long before I was heading South, with the still warm plaque nested in a double layer of stout cardboard on the floorboards, in front of the passenger seat. It only took a few manures for me to realize that without some sleep, I would likely wind up off the road in a wreck.

Another mile crawled by when I spotted a pair of large OTR trucks parked in a gravel lot off the side of the road. It took me two seconds to pull in and find a spot out of the way. I then also shut off my engine and jumped into the back of the bus. I was able to pull the bed all the way out before falling into it and sleep.

The angry beeping of my watch woke me. A look out thru the window shade showed the sun near the horizon. I'd been out for several hours and still felt like crap. Running some lukewarm water in the basin and then splashing my face helped, but I was still bone tired. With nothing else left that I could do, it was back on the road and pressing on.

An hour and a half later, I was in the cabin and taking a hot shower. Setting my phone alarm, I climbed into bed and this time fell asleep after just a few minutes pondering how age could creep up on one at the worst possible times..
This time, the alarm pulled me from a dreamless sleep. Putting my feet on the floor I debated taking another shower or walking over to the office for a shot at the 'Continental Breakfast' offered to residents. I compromised with a shave and a large cup of coffee with a dash of cream. The offered bagels had seen better days and I really wasn't that hungry. Or desperate.

The café was out for now as Sonya wasn't there to run interference for me and eating in such a crowed space held little incentive to return.

On the way back to my cabin, I snagged my laptop out of the bus and fired it up using the RV parks internet link to connect to my VPN, then my mail server. Being on the road so much of late had honed my security senses and the way I handled my business over the 'net.

The messages were, for the most part, good. My neighbor would be able to clear the Alder growth over a wider area, thanks to a small grant from the Borough, using funding channeled into our area as a result of last year's massive wildfires. Since my cabin had an all metal roof, it was eligible for enhanced fire safe clearing. I wasn't going to look a gift horse, or nearly free clear-cutting, in the mouth, so as to speak.

One of my fishing buddies messaged me that a California flatlander was going to expand his McMansion up by the river and needed to clear a large gravel shelf on the property. He was getting paid to haul it away, and hoped he could he dump a few loads at my place to save fuel. I didn't break my arm replying but told him I would take all the gravel he would care to dump by the cabin. I could rent a skid steer to level it after I got back on site.

Finally, I messaged the Ace Hardware in Homer to order a full 40 gallons of log oil. With the lead times I'd seen in the past, this just seemed prudent. I had an account with that store, so the order would go though and I would pay on pickup. The cabin would get a good soaking of the oil and the logs sitting on the rock foundation would get a second coat.

By the time I was done, it was just past 9 AM. Now came the hard or tricky part. Using the local white pages I found Jen's phone number. I also noted the address should the call be successful.

Putting my phone in speaker mode, I dialed the number I'd found. It picked up on the second ring and a female voice said, "Hello?"

"This is Moses Canyon, am I speaking to Sonya's mother?"

"Yes! Moses, you have the right number. What can I do for you?"

"If it isn't a bother, I'd like to drop by and discuss a possible funding channel for Sonya's college time. That, and I have an item to discuss before the luncheon, if that's okay with you...?"

"Why, certainly. Come on over. Can you find our place?"

"I have the address, I doubt I could get lost in Middleton..."

"Great, I'll see you in a jiff then."

With no more than that, she terminated the connection. I put the laptop back in its little padded niche in the bus and drove on into town. It took a couple of wrong turns before I found the address I was seeking.

The little house was, at best, non-descript. A neatly trimmed front lawn and tidy paint gave the impression of some care taken in the upkeep of the place; the cracked drive leading up to the garage said something else.

There was a pair of steps leading up to the small front porch; the door opened before my foot hit the first step. Jen stood in the doorway beckoning me inside.

The space might be called a living room or a parlor, but it was smallish, holding only a well-used couch and an overstuffed easy chair. The corner held a large metal wood burning stove. The adjoining space was clearly being used as the dining room. The few photos hanging from the wall were of an obviously large family in different group poses. This told me of a family that had been in comfortable circumstances, but not lately.

"Moses. So good to see you again. You said something about college funding?"

That she had cut to the chase skipping any small talk said volumes.

"Yes. I'll be a brief as I can, you are, no doubt, very busy today."

Her reply was a bit of a surprise, "Don't be silly. This is one of my days off, I work it so the luncheon day is always free. Would you care for a cup of tea? I have the pot on right now."

"No, but thank you just the same. I've just finished a rather large coffee, I'll be good for the rest of today."

"Fine, have a seat, I'll be right back."

Rather than park myself in the easy chair, I pulled out one of the dining table chairs and sat, my back to the front door. A window to my left let in all the light I might need. Jen returned with a mug of what I assumed was tea, sitting at the opposite end of the table. The spacing said something; I just wasn't sure what that might mean.

"First, thank you for your time. I'll get right to the point. Sonya had a few minutes to chat yesterday while I had breakfast. She mentioned some classes here and how that could help with her desire to go up to the U for the rest of a degree program. The issue seemed to be affording things."

A wide range of emotions played across Jen's face. I could guess she was loath to talk about either money or her daughter's needs. Before she spoke, I continued.

"I think I can help with that." I pulled a small case from my pocket and removed an oversized business card. I slid this toward Jen. As she held it, I started again.

"The NPC Foundation specializes in funding college students. They have a rather...unique approach for this funding... If I may continue?"

She nodded; I kept going. "If the student is approved, the first semester's books and class fees, but not tuition, are fully covered, this is classed as a type of loan." I held up a finger.

"Should the student receive a grade of C or better, for all classes, the loan becomes a tax-free grant. The Foundation will then cover the same expenses, for the next semester and retroactively cover the expenses of tuition for the prior period. For every class where the grades meet the minimum criteria, the Foundation will carry the support forward to the next semester under the same terms. Should the student have grades better than the minimum, there is a sliding scale to cover some to most of their living expenses, again retroactively."

Jen just nodded. "Go on, there has to be more."

"More of a policy view from the Foundation. Many students can't cut it at college, but still run up massive debt with no good outcome from the expenses. This particular path by the Foundation, forces the student to have some skin in the game, the initial tuition costs and an incentive to stay focused, which is the loan conversion part. The carrot is the forward funding for the next semester and stick is the need to payback the funds for the books and fees. One can dispassionately see this as either generous or draconian. But no matter the view, it is not a free ride, by any means measured."

I leaned back and paused. Jen just sipped her tea and kept her own council.

"Bottom line, the student needs to track their expenses, if they expect to see any of the sliding scale funding for living expenses, which we have found to help them focus on expenses, rather than funding remaining. It also plays to being an incentive to do better than the minimum required to get ahead. In short, the foundation pays for results, not just 'trying'. Do you see?"

Jen nodded. "Not just diabolical, but diabolically clever. Quite the little rat race you've built with this Foundation. Given that life itself is the ultimate rat race, this fits nicely with forcing a youngster to decide just how hard they want to play in the ultimate race."

"You may see it as you wish, Jen. It is a funding channel with very well described strings attached in the most visible way possible. You and Sonya can decide if this is something she might wish to pursue. The card has the URL's for the Foundation and the expressed details are covered there in excruciatingly minute detail for one to study. I will add this is a 'by invitation only' process. Not everyone can cut it, but from what I see in Sonya, tells me she not only can cut it, but likely will excel in the process."

At this, Jen stood and left the room. When she returned, she had a small notepad and pencil in hand. This time when she sat, it was halfway down the table, toward my end of the expanse.

"Now then, Moses. You had something on the luncheon?"

I blew out a sigh. "About that. Tiffany and I had a...blowout yesterday over the other Art pieces. I honestly could have handled that much better, especially with my background. No matter, I don't see that Art as a positive or even appropriate to the cemetery or to the town Commons. They just don't, in my view, fit into the area. I get that this is matter of taste, perhaps, but it is one I cannot support."

Jen just sat, tapping her pencil on her teeth, deep in thought. What she might be thinking would, no doubt, be a mystery to me or any other man alive today.

"Moses. I'll concede to your point, for now. I'll also keep my opinion to myself for now as well, if you don't object. Let me ask this in return...what do you see that might be a better fit? I'm most curious."

This I was ready for... "Tiffany stressed the idea of a focal point and with vertical development, in an effort to tie the Annex and the greater cemetery together. I don't see the proposed Art object as a focal point; it does nothing to add to the overall layout and doesn't provide anything to think about. I see it as jarring, at best. May I borrow you pencil and paper?"

Sketching on the paper while I spoke, I said, "Here is the two separate parts of the whole. The flowerpots, which I fully support, will go here, here and here."

I made a trio of Xs for this point. I added another mark, this one a square, offset between the two areas and the parking lot.

"People go to a cemetery to remember, to ponder or to honor their friends and or family members there. I'd want to see a place, out of the weather or direct sun, where a person can sit and look at the whole of the cemetery. A place where people, families can gather to visit, at least for a while. Here..."

I drew a modified set of arches, with a bench as part of the support structure. The arch was covered.

"One could sit here, with one's back to the parking lot and take the time they may wish to...consider many things. The arch has a beginning and end, although which end is which is ambiguous. Being covered, one could tarry even in the rain or afternoon sun, with some comfort.

The overhead can be slotted to reduce wind load and if sited correctly steer breezes onto the bench. If someone wanted to add to the arch in the future, a semi-circular wall could be placed on the side of the prevailing wind, to provide some shelter in the winter. This wall might be built as a set of panels, adding additional panels as funding becomes available. All of this can be coated to allow easy cleaning should some dolts decide to spray paint any of the structures."

Jen just sat. I couldn't say if she was stunned, surprised or horrified. Finally, she stood.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll be back shortly..."

With nothing more than that, she left the room again. On retuning a few minutes later, she simply said, "I've invited someone over. We have quite a bit of time before we have to leave for the luncheon venue. By the way, Moses, today we meet at Curley's on the northern end of town. They have quite the menu choice today..."

We both sat making some small talk about the weather when I heard the gravel crunch outside, indicting someone had arrived. I had no view, so this newcomer was unseen.

A minute later there was a tap at the door, and then it opened, allowing Tiffany to walk in. I had to catch my breath, she looked both desolate and so beautiful at the same time, I simply stopped breathing. Her eyes were rimmed, dark circles accenting the deep green.

Jen just pointed to the seat between us and then stood. "I'm getting some ice water, Tiff. You want something to drink or a snack?

"No, Aunt Jen, I'm fine. Thanks."

She sat, stiff backed, looking everywhere but at me. I tapped the table and said, "Be right back."

I ran out to the bus and grabbed the newspaper. I knew from checking that morning, the local Herald-Examiner site had been silent on both me and Baby Jane. Tiffany had respected my privacy....

On retuning inside, I found the pair had huddled over the now open and running laptop. I took my seat once more; I could wait to mention the newspaper....

The familiar trackball, pad and keyboard surrounded the laptop and I could see a drawing starting to appear on the screen.

Jen looked over at me and asked, "You have any idea of the size of these arches, or the bench itself?"

I nodded, "If the bench is free standing, the arch should center on the bench and be at least eight feet above ground level. If the bench is attached to the arch supports, then the bench should be offset and allow a tall person to sit without hitting their head. As for width or length. I'd say no more than 18 to 24 inches deep and as wide as needed for a large family. Perhaps as much as twenty feet..."

As I spoke, Tiffany tapped away on the laptop keyboard. She rolled the trackball several times, and then looked to Jen. With a slight nod, Tiffany went back to typing.

Staring straight ahead, Tiffany asked, "If you are using pipe for the arch itself, what diameter do you want?"

Rather than answer, I glanced at Jen, then put my hand lightly on Tiffany's shoulder. "I'm clueless here, kiddo. What do you think? Bigger may be a bit stronger, but harder to find locally."

When Tiffany turned to look at me, I could only blurt out, "Please...forgive me."

At this, Jen stood and left the room. I heard the back door slam and I knew we were alone. This would be my make-or-break moment. I took the chair that Jen had just vacated and turned it to face Tiffany. I then reached around and pulled her chair toward mine, so our knees touched. She offered no resistance, but also did nothing to assist.

Now came the risky part. I gently grasped her hands in mine, looked deep into her eyes and said, "I'm a complete ass. From a long line of said asses. I'm asking that you give me a second chance...please."

She jumped into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and with her head on my shoulder, she started sobbing.

Now I knew there was a chance to repair what I had stupidly broken...!
When the back door slammed again, this time loud enough I was certain the neighbors had to be wondering, Tiffany and I were both on the couch, deep into a second, lingering kiss. That was cut short by a discreet cough.

"Now that you two seem to have sorted some things out, we have an hour to clean up your presentation and get out to Curley's. If you two want to... skip lunch, we'll have almost two hours. What's your choice?"

Tiffany laughed, "If we skip lunch, poor Mrs. Colby will have an attack thinking Moses and I are back at my place, busy making..."

"A better plan for the presentation," I finished hastily.

Jen laughed, "Well, no matter. Too many of the club ladies have been busy deciding what your grandchildren will look like anyway... So, what will it be?"

It took me a bit to untangle from my little wildcat, and then stand.

"How about we mark this as a preliminary design drawing and open for some discussion? I also want to gin up a figure of merit number for potential costs. We already have the numbers for the flowerpots in hand."

Tiffany jumped up from the couch and on her way over to the laptop, slapped my backside. Tonight, would be nothing but a maze of potential emotional landmines to navigate through. I had to admit, it would be a most pleasant minefield to press through.

As Tiffany bent over working the keyboard, Jan walked up to me and gave me a full-frontal hug.

She then whispered into my ear, "Thank you. Tiff was over last night and so...destroyed, she couldn't stop crying..."

That message ended with another hug, I was now in the accepted zone. What came next would be a roller coaster, at best. But for now, I could ride the wind...or failing that - crash and burn again.
*
Lunch was wonderful. Served family style, I sat between Tiffany and Sonya, who had joined us for lunch; her mother next to the right of me and across the table sat the medic I'd met when I first walked into the Coroner's office complex. When I had shaken her proffered hand, I got a warm smile and a wink. I could only dare to nod in return.

The presentation went well enough, at the start. I took the reaction to the flowerpots as positive, for the most part. When I put up the drawing for the bench with arch, I could feel the change in the room. I had clearly crossed some line that was invisible to me.

Small town inertia had arrived, along with a good dose of, no doubt, who the hell does this stranger think he is added.

I fiddled with the portable projector for a few seconds, and then turned to face the group. In reading the room, I saw very little chance of this going anywhere. So, in for a penny, in for a dollar five eighty....

"This drawing and the overall design I must credit to both Tiffany Stroud and her Aunt, Jen. If I can use my time, please allow me to explain why I see this bench or at least a bench as a good thing.

Five years ago, I lost both my dear wife and our three-year-old boy to a stupid auto wreck." I still refused to call the event an accident.

"To make the whole situation even worse, this came at a time I had just finished formal rehab work at the VA – my injuries were from an aircraft crash, one that took place in El Anbar Province, Iraq."

You could cut the silence with a chainsaw, no knife could possibly work. I continued.

"The one saving grace, if you could call it such, is that my family died instantly, the vehicle that hit them was going nearly a hundred miles an hour. I had their remains cremated and their ashes mixed. I later purchased a couple of acres next to the local public park in my wife's hometown. I had it cleared and personally planted the area in grass, and later, clover – for the flowers. Every day, just before sundown, I would sit on the bench I'd installed and watch the sun set, pondering my loss."

I took a deep breath before going on.

"I did that for three months. One day, I did something different. I went out to the park before sunrise. I watched the sun rise and considered what I might do going forward – all while sitting on my bench. Finally, on a very bright Sunday morning, I said goodbye, sold everything and left for Alaska. I've never looked back, but I know the bench is still there..."

By now, every eye in the place was riveted on me. "I think benches are important. Yes, you could sit in the parking lot, in your auto, and think. I believe that a bench, one out in the air, in the open, in Nature, where you can see the sun, moon and stars is a far better thing to sit on. This one has a cover, so the sun and perhaps some rain won't be as bothersome. This so one can sit and ponder the many things that one often does at a cemetery... Please accept my thanks for your time."

I didn't sit back down at the table, but walked outside. I hadn't planned on that, but somehow, it just came to me, that I had done the right thing....

It seemed like forever before Tiffany and Jen joined me in the parking lot. Jen gave me a one-armed hug for a second and Tiffney about broke one of my ribs. I chose to sit in the back of the sedan as we made our way back to Jen's home. I was happy to remain silent as the women chatted away about how the meeting had ended. I finally sifted out of the chatter that the club would meet again in a month and entertain different designs for a bench between the Annex and the cemetery proper. I suppose that could be considered a victory of sorts.

Rather than go inside with the ladies, I mentioned I needed to see Doc McCarthy and drop off something. If I could have placed the plaque myself, in private, I would have, but that path wasn't an option. So, I would hand it over and when the County got around to interring the remains of Baby Jane, they could place the plaque at the same time. Of course,. I would be long gone as I had no idea how long that part could drag out.

Entering the office building, I was greeted at the little window by one of the medical staff.

"Is Doc ..." was as far as I got before the medic spoke.

"Sorry, Mr. Canyon. He's out at a meeting right now. He asked if you would mind if he called when he was free...?"

"No sweat, I just came to drop this off for him." I handed over the bronze plaque I'd picked up yesterday. "He knows what it's all about. Please let him know I'll call before I leave town, might be in a day or two, I've done nearly everything here I've needed to..."

She silently took the package and just nodded. With nothing more to be said, I returned to the bus and drove over by Tiffany's place. Her car was out front, so I pulled up the curb and parked. I took a few minutes to try and gather my thoughts before we met again. I dreaded how I would tell her I was heading out soon, but what would be, would be.

I tapped on the door and seconds later, it opened to show Tiffany, this time dressed in her pink lounge outfit, at least it didn't look like she was planning on going out anytime soon.

"Moses. Please, do come in..." After she shut the door behind me, she added, "Go ahead and take off your shoes, and have a seat." This went with a wave at her divan.

I parked myself at one end of the divan and took my time removing my shoes. While I was occupied, Tiffany sat in the middle area of the divan and just clasped her hands together. Not quite what I had expected...

Shoes off and tucked under the furniture, I sat back and just closed my eyes for a moment. Time for the coming train wreck...

"Tiffany, I hope you understand..."

She turned toward me and tucked her legs up under, leaning against the back of the divan... I could see tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes.

"This afternoon, I shared something with a group of people that I've only talked about in private a couple of times. I'm okay with that, it seemed like the right thing to talk about, to explain what I was thinking."

She just nodded. The silence grew painful, yet I really couldn't bring myself to say what had to come next. She beat me to it...

"So, you'll be leaving tomorrow?"

I could only shrug. "Or the day after. I need to do some shopping for some food and snacks for the trip up the ALCAN. Coffee and cream, that sort of thing."

She nodded again. She whispered, "What about...us?'

There, she had broken the mirror...

I began with a simple, "That, I think, mostly depends on you."

"Go on" this said so quietly it was almost inaudible.

How to put this delicately? "Tiffany, you're not a one-night-stand person. You're too... too sweet, too smart and too, well just too much of everything for me to think of you as a..."

I took a deep breath. "I want something more, a lot more. And that something more takes time. Time to make a foundation, time to build understanding, time to...understand, at least at some level, each other. Think about it, I don't even know the names of your parents or your favorite color."

She smiled, "Pink."

Caught flatfooted, I could only say, "Pink?"

"Pink, that's my favorite color, silly." She tugged at her pullover, "You know, like this..."

"Of course..."

"We can meet with my folks on the way to Alaska. Sonya is more than happy to house sit my place. Everything I'm currently working on, I can do remotely on my laptop..." I could hear something in her voice... Fear?

She was light-years ahead of me, but utterly clueless on what I was really talking about. Time to try reality. "Okay. Do you have a current passport?"

She pulled back like she'd been slapped. "Passport?"

I held up both hands. "Hang on. I'm not trying to be a smartass. We'll have to travel through Canada to get to Alaska. Oddly, you now have to have a passport to get back onto the US."

That went over like the classic lead balloon. "Look, if you don't want me along for the trip, just say so!" Her eyes were so...angry. And that brought back so many bad memories....

I put my hand up to my forehead. I managed to strangle a sigh, and that took some effort.

"Go get your laptop. Use this search string...'visit anchorage'. If you fly up, no passport is required. Drive up and you need to show a passport at the border. No tickee, no shirtee, them's the rules. I have exactly bumpkus to say about that rule."

Leaning back, I continued with, "Go ahead and look it up. I'll consider this part of a trust building exercise." After a short pause, "I have absolutely no reason to lie to you. If I didn't want you with me on the trip, I would have said just that. That's another thing that requires some time. Trust."

She started at me forever; I just waved my hand toward the wall where the cubby held her laptop. She finally gave in and brought back her laptop. A few minutes later she looked up and said, "I had no idea..."

"That's okay. Most people who travel very little wouldn't have a reason to know that. Let me ask you a real-life question. When was the last time you went camping, either in a tent or hiking and then staying overnight..?"

She slowly closed her laptop, setting it aside.

"Since you asked like that. Exactly, ...never."

"Then I'm saving you a horrible, cramped, nearly week-long trip in a small VW bus. A slow bus, at that. Cooking over a small stove or no hot food at all. There are few to no diners, inns, motels or even roadhouses for most all of the road, and those that do exist are often booked months in advance, so damn expensive, or just plain nasty, folks chose to sleep in their cars. My bus is just a step above that. You don't even want to know about the sanitary arrangements..."

She curled up in a ball, arms against her cheat, but, to my joy, didn't start crying.

"Take a deep breath. Then come over here and sit on my lap. We're both smart and have opposable thumbs, so we can figure out something that will work for both of us. Yes?"
After she had relaxed to the point of sitting still, I said, "I want to share something I've never said out load to anyone. Just stick with me to the end...okay?"

I could feel her head on my cheat, nodding in agreement.

"I met Nancy at the hospital where I was doing my rehab effort. She worked at the facility as medical transcriptionist. A very good one at that. We met at lunch one day and we seemed to hit it off. One thing led to another and two months later, she told me she was pregnant."

Tiffany's muffled "And then?" quickly followed.

"We got married of course. I'd met her folks and most of her family. They were a bit of an odd lot, but we seemed to get along. The post assigned us a small apartment. That's when Nancy stopped working at the hospital and begin working from home as an independent contractor. Pay for play. She got paid by the page for the transcripts and could set her own hours."

I was surprised when Tiffany asked, "So, when did it start to come apart?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Why would she quit a good paying job in a stable environment, especially as a newlywed? That makes no sense to me at all. Women don't get fired for being pregnant and with that kind of job, she could have worked right up to her due date. That's what Aunt Jen did, twice."

"It really started shredding when I got called to meet the medical review board. Bottom line - they thanked me for my service, told me I could never fly again for the Corps, and had no skill set they could fit into anything they had open. So, here's your disability discharge and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
I was out on the street with a wife seven months pregnant, with no job, no place to live and no real prospects, as I had counted on being able to stay active duty."

She squeezed my arms before speaking, "Just like that, they tossed you out on your ear?"

"I just gave you the Cliff Notes version, but yes. They did. It isn't like everyone involved didn't care, it just how the system works."

Tiffany pulled in tighter, "Well, the system sucks."

"You'll get no argument from anybody that been chewed up by that system."

"So, what happened next?"

"I was able to land a gig as a long-term substitute math teacher in a rural high school outside of Rocket City and we rented a place for a placeholder."

"Okay. Stop. Rocket City?"

"Ah. Sorry. Huntsville. Local nickname sort of thing."

"So, when did she start making your life hell?"

I tapped Tiffany on her head. "She did no such thing. It did dawn on me about that time she wasn't working at the hospital as a good job, but as a good place to meet a potential husband..." I paused for a long while, and then started up again.

"Which also explained a lot of other things. After Buster was born, she became quite the stay-at-home mother, and was really protective of Buster. I'll admit we had more than a few...arguments, but I wrote those off as part of learning more about each other."

She just shook her head.

"Okay, say it..."

"You were trapped in a job you didn't like, with a wife who had wanted something else, and now you were...not a bad choice, but not the best choice. Was she stepping out on you?"

I pushed Tiffany away from me. "Where the hell did that come from?"

She reached out a hand, touching my arm. "I may live in a small town, but that doesn't mean the same thing can't happen here and sometimes in a much more public way. My brother is living in Salt Lake because his now ex-wife was unhappy in how he'd 'progressed' in his old job. Her activities in finding a replacement breadwinner were just a little too public for my family."

"Uff Da. Nancy wasn't cheating on me, or at least I had no idea if that was..."

"No. That was not happening," I thought.

"As you wish, Moses. Finish the story..."

"We'd had an...argument and she had left with Buster to go stay with her folks for a bit to let things cool off..."

She blew out her breath. "And that's when Deputy Dawg entered the picture?"

I bent over and clasped my arms behind my knees. The emotions were like a burning fire in my gut... Anger, rage at the unfairness, the lost chance to see Buster grow up.... Every damn thing that had turned to **** right in front of me... I didn't scream, I'd eventually learned not to scream....
To Tiffany's credit, she left me to work through my rage by making up a pot of iced tea. She at least understood enough to know that this many years on, I had come to develop a set of working skills to deal with...my problems. That she seemed to be content to leave me alone rather than try to smother me in an effort to 'help me work though it' was a happy revelation.

She just went up more than a few notches in my estimation. It certainly made me decide that spending the time with this unknown woman would be worth the effort and likely, more than a little pain.

When I sat back up to look around, she had taken a seat at the table and was sipping on a glass of what should be the tea I heard her make.

"Now that you're back with me, could I interest you in a glass of nice mint tea? I even have some cookies, if you're a bit hungry." She rose and walked over to me, offering her hand. "Come on, you should really have something to drink right now."

What an odd thing to say. I asked, "And you are an expert on this because?"

Her reply was a bit of a shock, "Because I worked with Aunt Jen in the summer at the clinic for two years while I was in high school. We had to deal with the folks working through the emotional aftermath of some pretty knarly road accidents. So, yes, I know what I'm talking about."

She gave me a hard look. "You aren't the only person that has had to deal with dead people that you knew or grew up with..."

I followed her over to the table. A much more neutral ground than the divan and sat in front of the glass, one dripping with moisture. I was halfway done with the glass of tea when she chose to speak...

"I'm sorry, Moses. What I said was uncalled for and way out of line, for as long as we haven't known each other." She paused for a bit, then added, "I guess you're right. What we don't know about each other, or our families, our life up to now, is enough to fill the Grand Canyon more than once."

I drained the rest of my tea. "Thank you. Just for the record, Nancy did not get pregnant to trap me. I do know where babies come from and how they get started... I was a more than willing participant in the making part."

She nodded. "And you are not going to find yourself in that position again. I get that. And just so you know, we are not going to be doing any of the 'making' part until we are married. Cart verses horse. To quote you; no tickee, no shirtee. My rules here Buddy, and make no mistake about it, them's the rules."

I stood up and walked over to where she was sitting and gave her a long, deep and lingering kiss. "I can play by those rules, no sweat."

"Well, now that we have all that out of the way...where do we go from here?"

"I go back to Alaska, you fly up in a couple of weeks and we spend the summer busting ass on the cabin. While we're doing that, we can get to know each other better. Fill in that Grand Canyon you mentioned."

The rest of the evening was spent working out possible flight connections and timing, \a light dinner, and then a sweet goodbye as I went back to my cabin and a very cold shower....

I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I woke, it was like a light switch had been thrown. Rather than give that much thought, I took a long hot shower, then shaved. Looking in the mirror, I wondered if a haircut might be in order before I hit the road...AS I trundled over to the office to start my checkout, I was to get a large cup of very fresh coffee and a massive blueberry muffin. It was so soft and warm, I decided it had to be a local product.

Back at the cabin, I took out the last of my things and put them into the bus and booted my laptop to do my final 'mission brief' – that is, check the ten-day weather forecast for my route. Look for any listed road closures or road work that might cause a delay and confirm the current status, frequency and PL tone for the repeaters that I might be forced to use when there was no cell phone service. It was a good way to be productive while enjoying a nice leisurely breakfast.

With that part done and my paper notes tucked into my map case, I changed over to see what messages might be waiting,. I could only hope my buddy would send me a photo of the hydroaxe work around my cabin, one filled with mounds of free gravel. Nothing there. There was one that was a real eye catcher.
Following the invitation, I was able to connect to the sender where I spent the next hour and a half chatting. After a polite goodbye, I realized it had been a good thing I'd decided to shave that morning.

That call changed everything.

Now, I wasn't going up to spend the summer messing around with the cabin with my new... Tiffany. It was still too early to even guess how this budding relationship might turn out, but I could always hope.

No, I would be pressing hard to get what I could done to prep the place for a sale. I had already decided that selling the cabin this summer was a good thing. This last winter had been brutal, and I'd been lucky to be sitting in Tucson while everyone else got buried in snow, storm after storm and the odd earthquake.
I'd been getting unsolicited offers all winter and some of them were at levels I'd used to consider insane – all out of California. I didn't know what to make of that, other than folks were desperate to move someplace they thought might be a better fit. Now I had a reason to sell, and sooner rather than later.

The call was a provisional acceptance of my Doctorate proposal. I would need to be ready to start work in the Fall, near Buttermilk Creek, Bell county, Texas. As I put the laptop back in its little padded bag, then in the bus, I swore I heard little kids laughing in the distance....

I waited, fussing about, handing my key back before I would talk with Tiffany. This was big enough that the last thing I wanted to do was spring the news early in the morning. Closer to lunch seemed to be the prudent choice. After gassing up, I headed over to her place. Pulling up to the curb, I took a deep breath and jumped...out of the bus and into something unknown.

At my tap on the door, I got a muffled "Who's there?"

With a smile, I replied with, "Its Moses. I'm here to fix the sink..."

The door cracked open and could see a very green eye looking out through the crack. "Moses?"

"Yes. And I'm here to fix your sink..."

Now the door opened with the brisk, "Get in here before someone sees me...".

I'd barely made it inside before the door closed and I could hear the lock slide home. Tiffany was wearing a very short bathrobe and her hair was wrapped in at least two towels.

"Do you know what time it is" she hissed.

"I do," I said while glancing at my watch, "It is exactly four minutes after ten AM on a Friday morning. Go back and finish your bath or whatever. I'll sit on the divan and keep my hands to myself. We really do need to talk. Some things came up just this morning..."

At her wide-eyed look of dismay, I quickly added, "It's all good. And it's something you already kind of know about. Just a minor change in long term plans. I need to be in Texas this Fall...."

With that I walked over and then sat on the couch. "I'll wait right here. I'm not going anywhere until we talk..."

She stared at me for a long minute, then dashed around the corner, deeper into the house.

"If you want, I can help you change or dry your back for you."

Her reply was slightly muffled, "I really want, but not right now."

"Okay. Always your call." I had just barely finished speaking when she came back into the room. She was wearing a tight, long sleeve shirt, and what I would call gym shorts. I mean, Spandex works with everything after all, yes? Her hair was pulled up into a kind of bun and for the first time, I noticed she had a very light dusting of freckles across her nose.

I couldn't help myself, "You have...freckles."

"That's it? You came over here to tell me I have freckles?"

I laughed, and then patted the divan next to where I was perched. "We can pursue the subject of finding all your freckles later, I happen to think that might just be a lot of fun. I got some good news this morning and I want to share it with you straightway."

She carefully sat near me; her look still seemed to radiate a kind of fear. "Go ahead and share."

"I received a message from the State of Texas University system. It seems my grant and Doctoral proposal ran head on into another proposal looking to use Artificial Intelligence to solve so-called unique problems. I spent just over an hour chatting with the Department head and the Dean on how these might work together for a new class of predictive Archeology.

The AI doctoral candidate has secured a massive grant and in a very uncharacteristic turn of events, he is willing to share some of that with me in order to exclusively obtain my unique data steam. We will be coauthors on any related papers published prior to our Dissertation peer review and being published."

She gave me a real thousand-mile stare. When she snapped back to the here and now, she asked, "Unique data stream?"

I didn't laugh, she'd hit the nail perfectly on the first try.

"Yup. Any AI is stupid, it has to be trained. Go to school on Archeology in a manner of speaking. My drone based overhead 3D mapping will be digitized and overlaid on a known, vetted exiting pre-Clovis site and the two compared to see if any markers or other signs can be used to predict another dig site. We'll use the predictors spit out by the AI to start a new, minimal dig. Buttermilk Creek is just exactly the place to try this. It helps that the weather is good nearly all year and the UT supercomputer site is right up the road in Austin."

Nodding, she asked, "And us? What will this mean?"

I reached out to hold her hand, which she put into mine. "I was going to sell the cabin at the end of this summer. The last thing I want to do is winter over this next season. This just pushes things up a bit. I already have a raft of offers, some very attractive. For the time I'll run my drone campaigns, I'll have to be on site or close by. Otherwise, I can be quite literally, anywhere.

If I'm able to work a Doctorate out of this entire effort, then I can pretty much live where I want, and only have to be on site for any digs I can either start or get invited to join. You see?"

"So we can...live here?"

"If that's what you want to do. Or we can live in Texas Hill Country. I have no extended family that I care to be around. I can see that this something you might find...necessary for your life."

We sat in dead silence for many minutes. She finally said, "So, how many children do you want to help me raise?"

By now, the whiplash was something I'd come to expect.

"That's entirely up to you, Tiffany. None, one or a dozen. You're going to be doing all the heavy lifting, having babies is hard work after all. The other stuff - bottles, diapers and the like is pretty easy stuff. And," I gave her a real smile, "I'm already trained."

After a long time, we separated. She left without comment, I just went over to the fridge to see what she might have in the way of cold water.

She returned with a pair a casual capris and a thin, short-sleeved shirt over a heavy T shirt. She shoes were oddly colored sneakers. She stopped and gave out a sigh.

"Do you have to leave today?"

Not knowing where this might lead, I could only be honest. "I've checked out. Honestly, if I was heading up the road, I would've liked to have left early this morning. To beat the traffic in Salt Lake."

She nodded. "How about we go visit Jen for a bit and then head up to Salk Lake for dinner with my folks? They have lots of room and if you leave from there, it saves you a couple of hours, easy."

"Just drop in on your folks, unannounced?"

"No. We're going up to meet them as they have invited us. I think Dad wants to give you the once over. Mom has no problem. Seems she's still plugged into the gossip loop down here."

I just smiled, "I'm fully packed and ready to go, one day isn't going to matter. How will you get home?"

"Sonya has agreed to come and get me using my car. We can do some shopping on the way home..."

With nothing more than that we headed out – on a trip, together and with any luck - one that would last a lifetime.

I still couldn't shake the notion I was hearing little kids laughing in the background as we drove off...

That's all folks!

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I've worked hard to wire a story with real, 3D characters.   The story, IMO, is both realistic and is played on a realistic 'screen'.

Looking forward to your comments.   Please keep in mind, I've closed out my Amazon marketplace for these stories, so with that mind, share your thoughts.

And yes, I really worked to make this a tear-jerker of a story.