Variation on a Theme, Book 7
Copyright© 2026 by Grey Wolf
Chapter 9: Closing Time
Sunday, July 20, 1986
We were up fairly early, finished packing, and arrived at Hobee’s a few minutes early. Everyone was glad Lizzie and Janet had proposed it, even if they had to put up with my mentioning it was yet another trip to Hobee’s before my first one. Considering my ex-wife had introduced me to Hobee’s, it could have been one of those things. Thankfully, it wasn’t.
Meg, Steffie, Ryan, Gene, Sue, Amit, and Sheila all arrived just after we did, and Colleen, Nina, and Suzi appeared just after them. Colleen put in a request for two tables for ten. I came up a couple of noses short until Darla and Hank arrived.
Lizzie and Janet arrived, with grins on their faces, about fifteen minutes later.
“So ... how much sleep did you get?” Colleen asked as they came in.
“Um...” Lizzie said.
“Not much,” Janet said. “But what sleep there was, was excellent.”
Lizzie groaned, then grinned.
“What can you do?” she said, shrugging.
We had a great time recapping moments from the wedding and just hanging out. The majority of people here would be at several weddings next year. I doubted we would invite Colleen and Nina or Suzi, and I doubted they would attend if we did. The rest, though? They were long since on the list. Well ... except for Hank, but he hadn’t been a member of this circle until recently. If he and Darla worked out, though, he would definitely be on the list.
At one point, there was a bathroom outing involving Darla, Jas, Angie, Sue, and Cammie. Jas nudged me a few minutes after she got back. When I looked, she gave me a wink, then a thumbs-up. I was pretty sure I had the message right. If so, it was a big step for Darla and Hank, and a necessary one. Also, one that meant Clara Winton was likely to be hearing about Hank soon. Darla wouldn’t keep her mom in the dark once things got serious.
Just before eleven, we said farewell and safe travels to the happy couple and to all of those flying out today, then piled into the car. Once we were on the road, Paige said, “I assume Jas clued you in.”
“I did!” Jas said, giggling. “Apparently weddings make girls horny! Initial reviews are highly positive, too. You probably will have a big hole in your social calendar this fall, fiancé.”
“I can use it,” I said. “Classes will be busy, there’s France to plan for, and P.C.’s Limited is picking up. Amy is still very much involved, as are a few people in this car.”
There were giggles at that.
“And ... who knows? A new girl could always appear,” Mel said, grinning.
“I’d say ‘I’m not looking,’” I said. “But I wasn’t looking for Amy, and Darla was supposed to be ... well. A fling.”
“Speaking of flings ... no bridesmaids nailed,” Angie said.
“By any of us,” Jas added. “Except Mel.”
Mel grinned.
“I refuse to confirm or deny...”
Cammie pretended to swat her.
“Weddings make girls horny. I will confirm that much.”
There was a lot of giggling.
“That ... wasn’t going anywhere for me,” I said.
“What a surprise! Who knew a totally clumsy pass by a drunken bridesmaid wasn’t going to do it?” Jas said, snorting.
That got more giggling.
“I dunno if I’d characterize her as ‘drunken’...” I said.
“More than drunk enough,” Angie said.
“There’ll be more weddings with more bridesmaids. We’ll see,” I said.
Cammie looked at Mel, who looked back. Whatever silent communication they had led to Cammie saying, “We’re not naming names, but ... the odds are that we will have one or more bridesmaids you can nail without increasing your ... count.”
There was a chorus of shrieks from Jas and Paige. Angie joined in as well.
“C’mon!” Cammie said, rolling her eyes. “Angie, you’re among the first people who knew about us. And Jas, and Paige, you’ve known for a long time. Plus ... we’re family. How could we not enlist at least one or two of you?”
“Steve counts, too. Obviously. But he can’t be a bridesmaid,” Mel said, grinning.
“Obviously!” Cammie said, nodding.
“We’re in the same place in reverse,” Angie said, with Jas and Paige nodding. “And we have two sets of bridesmaids. Sort of. Maybe?”
“Probably one bigger set, honestly,” Jas said.
“That makes the most sense. Our circles of friends just don’t differ that much,” Paige said.
“But two Maids of Honor,” Paige said.
“Well ... duh!” Angie said, giggling. “Unless we pick the same person. Best Man? That’s really Steve’s call. I might pick a different one, or share.”
“We will see,” I said.
For me, it was getting close to being Michael or Marshall. If I picked Michael, I suspected Angie would pick Marshall. That might well be a win-win. The amusing part would be picking Michael because he was Michael, and not because there was a certain level of amusement in having a future billionaire in my wedding party. I suspected that was because the odds were getting stronger and stronger that we would be four future billionaires getting married, and we might have more involved besides Michael.
I dropped the girls at the terminal, returned the rental car, and headed back to meet them. Half an hour later, we were sitting at our gate waiting for our flight. All six of us had schoolwork out. This had been a great trip, and we’d enjoyed it, but it was time to get back to our lives, and that meant catching up so that Monday wasn’t a disaster.
Our flight wound up leaving a bit early. Even so, that put us in Houston at seven-fifteen. By the time we’d gotten our bags and picked up the car, it was after eight. We didn’t make it home until a bit after ten.
Al was there as well, and I shook hands with him, while the girls all hugged him. Amy was still up and met everyone with hugs.
“I hope it was a lot of fun!” she said.
“It was!” Jas said. “So much fun!”
“I am looking forward to attending weddings. Yours will be first, I believe,” Amy said, smiling to Cammie and Mel.
“Unless there’s a huge surprise, I agree,” Cammie said, grinning, with Mel nodding.
“You took many pictures?” Amy asked.
“We did!” Paige said. “We’ll have to get them developed tomorrow.”
“Including plenty of big brother in his finery, dancing with girl after girl,” Angie said, giggling.
“I can’t wait to see them!” Amy said. “We ... Al and I ... also have something weird to tell you.”
Al said, “It’s really Amy’s story. I didn’t see it.”
“I came home a bit early on Friday. We got off early. When I came around the corner, I thought I saw a car idling across the street. Brown. Small. It drove off when I arrived. I didn’t think a lot of it, but ... well. Today, I got home early again, because Hullabaloo was completely dead. This time, I got a better look at it. Same car. I think the guy in it was taking notes. He took off right before I could get any details. Not even make or model. It looked like a lot of things, at least to me.”
“I didn’t see it,” Al said. “Everyone, keep an eye out, though. Whoever it is, he might be wary because he’s been spotted first. But ... he might be looking for someone specific to engage, or he might be looking for something else. I don’t know, but I’d like to.”
“We all would!” Angie said. “Whatever he’s up to, it sounds nefarious. I doubt he’s with Publisher’s Clearing House, planning to give one of us buckets of money.”
“On the other hand, I’ll happily take buckets of money, if so!” Cammie said.
“I would as well,” Amy said.
They grinned at each other, then exchanged a high five.
“If you see it, let me know,” Al said. “Especially if you get any information. It’s technically not part of my job — not my jurisdiction, nor am I on duty — but I can follow up some, at least. CSPD might be able to do more, and they owe you a favor or ten.”
“True enough!” Cammie said, grinning.
After Al left, Amy got kisses from me and from Jas. The eight of us hung out for about half an hour, going over the highlights. Then it was off to bed. Both Jas and I would have liked to reconnect more with Amy. Sadly, we were tired, Amy was tired, and tomorrow was a school day for all of us.
Monday, July 21, 1986
As promised, Peter Blair and Susanne Mitchell both had full sets of notes for us. Skimming them, we saw a few minor differences, but nothing that would matter. We thanked them profusely and invited them to a study meeting on Wednesday night. Both of them agreed. We would decide later whether we needed a Thursday session as well.
Dr. Halloran talked with us briefly as well. He wanted Paige and me to speak during the first week of August. We both readily agreed. He was going to add a section on homosexual rights, justifying it both because it had been a hot-button issue on campus until fairly recently and because he had relative experts in his class.
I had no idea if this was going to keep happening. We were, by and large, running out of classes where ‘social topics’ would fit. Still ... this was us. We tended to attract a certain level of attention.
After school, we dropped off the film from the wedding pictures. The plan was to pick them up tomorrow. Everyone was eager to see them. Amy the most, but the others were as well. We might have to plan a weekend trip to Houston just to show them off to the parents.
Michael called just after seven.
“Hey, Steve!” he said.
“Hey, Michael!” I said. “How goes it?”
“Lousy,” he said. “Which isn’t true. Most things are going well. We have the production-ish 386 prototype actually working, and are trying to build about forty of them. But...”
He sighed.
“Lee’s in ... Des Moines, I think. Someone is threatening to sue us into oblivion because his computer might have burned down the office. It didn’t, but ... in fairness, that’s because they were quick with a fire extinguisher, not because there weren’t flames coming out of the case. I’m pretty sure there were.”
“Yikes!” I said, having flashbacks (or, really, flashforwards) to Dell quality issues of the future.
“He wouldn’t win the suit, the lawyers say. But it would be terrible press. We have two big problems, at least. It’s hard to tell what went wrong, given our manufacturing system, and ... well. Compatible parts sometimes ... aren’t.”
“Those both make sense.”
“We need an external support system, but that’s impossible. The cost difference would kill us. And we need a better manufacturing parts-tracking system. Lee thinks he’s got a lead on that and wants to talk when he gets back. Got time to meet on the phone late this week or early next? It’s not technically a board decision, but ... we need to get in the habit of treating more things like board decisions.”
“I’m good with that. Just let me know. Saturday’s a pain, but could work. I’m getting interviewed by the school paper. Friday’s busy, so ... Thursday late, if it’s under an hour. Or Monday.”
“Let’s go with Thursday, if that’s okay? It’ll be short. Do we need to worry about the interview?”
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