Chapter 20

Nikki’s turn:

I managed the stress of Mom’s interaction in my life quite well, I thought, right until Mizz Donna met me at the plane and hugged me. Then the floodgates opened.

“What was I supposed to do, Mizz Donna?” I sobbed. Poor Dan. He’s standing behind me, wanting to do SOMETHING.

“Darlin’,” she said comfortingly, “You did the right thing. World’s full of assholes. I used to be one, so I know...”

I heaved a wordless sob. Mizz Donna was hugging me, Dan’s hand was touching my shoulder.

“All we can do is pray, Nikki. She’s gotta come to the realization on her own. That’s what I did. It can happen to her.”

“I know...” I sobbed. “Still hurts...” and a few more sobs.

“Baby, we’re her for you,” Dan said. “And your mom, when she figures things out.”

I sobbed a bit more, realized that what the loves in my life said was true. I kissed Mizz Donna’s cheek. “Cindy’s lucky...” I whispered in her ear.

“Hon,” Mizz Donna said, “I’m lucky that I had that tiny bit of sense and I had Cindy and this whole crazy bunch to fall back on. We’ll pray for your mom.”

Tina’s turn:

The rapid appearance and disappearance of Nikki’s mom just ripped a bit of my heart away. I have faithfully been writing my own mom, care of a women’s prison in Arkansas. I have NEVER gotten a single acknowledgement. It’s a good thing I have family here because otherwise this would mess me up more than it does.

Everybody else’s moms ... Cindy’s is HERE. Mizz Donna is the proof that redemption is real. Her and Mister Bill and Elise and the impending William Carson Carmody Junior are a happy part of our community. Nikki’s mom – well, I wish she’d had the sense to see the way her daughter had turned out, but she was bought off all too easily by chasing her ill-informed dream of a life in Las Vegas.

Even Dana’s mom ... Dana wrote. Got a letter back. Arranged a visit.

“I dunno if I’m gonna subject myself to another one, Tina,” she’d told me when I asked about it, after she’d returned.

“Why? What happened?”

“Tina, there are signs you kinda want to see, you know? I mean, Mom never was exactly the person you wanted to parade in front of your schoolmates – tattoos. Just that worn-out look from a lifestyle I never could understand. I thought, ‘Dana, maybe prison will straighten her out.’ I was sooo wrong...”

Having to comfort a little sister while she explains disappointment in her life. I can do that. Of course, I have so many questions...

I’m used to using resources when I reach the end of my own abilities. A good engineer does that. Don’t know what to do about that particular problem? Find the expert on the subject and get help. So I figured that if I was dealing with criminals and incarceration, maybe I needed somebody in law enforcement.

“Officer Canfield,” I said into my iPhone, “this is Tina Addison.”

“Hey, Tina!” he replied. “What’s up?”

That’s a good thing. Ever since Alan stopped an armed robbery, the police department’s been welcome at our offices. Hardly a week goes by that we don’t entertain one or two officers on a ‘community relations’ check. Several are known to show up at our Saturday socials. So I’m comfortable in posing a little favor.

“I have a favor,” I said.

“After that last barbecue, I’m good,” he laughed. “Who do I need to kill?”

“Nothing that drastic,” I said. “You know my mom’s kinda been in prison in Arkansas, right?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Sadly, that’s the way it is. She and her boyfriend got arrested the day I met Alan. Anyway, I’ve been writing her and haven’t gotten a single reply in five years. Is there any way you can find out if she’s still in prison?”

“Gee, Tina ... That’s a horrible story,” he said with a pause. “I think I know somebody who can check. Can you get me information? I need her name, for sure. Social security number if you got it. Anything will help.”

“I have your email. I’ll send you what I have,” I said. “And thanks. And bring yourself and the missus by, come Saturday...”

“I worry about that, Tina,” he laughed. “Every time I do that, she starts playing with those babies and talking about us having another one.”

I giggled. “You NEED two.”

“I’m too old for another one.”

“Hush!” I laughed. “Talk to Bill Carmody. He’s sixty-one.”

“Yeah, okay,” he chuckled. “Maybe I can be Superman. Send me that stuff. I’ll do what I can for you.”

“Thank you, Chase,” I said.

“No probs, Tina. You take care.”

In the meantime, I have too much of a life to live. I’m going back to work now. We acquired a babysitter for the toddlers – mine, Susan’s, Mizz Donna’s, and Johanna’s when she’s not out gallivanting. He goes SAILING with them. Johanna just smiles and makes overt reference to his Viking ancestry.

Showing up at the office with work on my desk is stimulating. I think that’s more descriptive than calling it ‘refreshing’ because my dear husband dumped a stack of client drawings on my desk and informed me that we were going from 1960 to 2017 and I should know what to do.

I knew, first, that Mizz Donna could have one of the documents people convert these to electronic media. After all, we didn’t fork over a fortune for that big monitor just so I could risk paper cuts.

Next thing was to take a list of protective devices, state of the art 1960, and identify what they were doing in these people’s systems. It’s fun. You can take one device and use it a dozen different ways. I need to see what they’ve been doing, then get on the phone and see if they want to keep doing it that way, or if we might offer something a bit more modern. There’s an amazing amount of inertia in the power biz, and most of it’s at a dead stop.

Of course, there’s Beck’s herbal tea. Or Alan’s coffee – espresso – so thick it wants to climb up the sides of the little demitasse cup. Or anything in the range between those extremes.

“And by the way, Cindy’s got Nikki scheduled for her first pilot in command flight in the 402 this evening. You’re invited as ballast,” Alan said.

“Oh, great! Nikki needs the moral support,” I responded. “You can stay on the ground with Kathy. I doubt that I can keep the pTerridactyl away, either.”

“Yeah, you got that right. We should’ve had a lottery. Sold chances for ten bucks a ticket.”

Nikki’s pregnant, too. Another thing to pray for, after her first one ended in miscarriage. But she’s Nikki, and in some ways she’s bulletproof, and I’m very happy for her. Grandma Desai’s been giving her Shiva shrine a workout as well. Me, I’m with whatever works. Nikki NEEDS a baby.

Cindy, on the other hand... “Okay, I need to visit Los Alamos again in a month. Conference.”

“Normal schedule? I asked.

“Yeah. Travel on Monday. Play brain games Tuesday through Thursday. Travel on Friday.”

“And if you fly yourself, that’s a two-day trip at each end,” I said.

“Yeah. Wish I could justify taking Songbird. So much faster.”

I looked into her face. Those startlingly green eyes. “You’re getting expensive tastes,” I laughed.

“What’s that cheesy line? ‘I feel the need for speed’?”

“You could fly commercial,” I said.

“Not if I can help it. I guess if it’s just me ‘n’ Nikki, we’ll take her Mooney. It’s a little faster than our Cessna.”

“More economical, too,” I said. “Nikki’s thinking about going?”

“They asked for her.”

“And her Dan hasn’t chained her to the bed yet?”

Dan 2.0 is very wary of anything that might stress his barely pregnant wife this time. Cautious, to a fault, really. He cares. Nikki squeals, at once reveling in how much attention he shows her, not that she’s ever starved for attention since he rescued her in the aftermath of that hurricane, but this is even MORE attention.

“We’re supposed to present a paper for peer review,” Cindy sighed. “That’s a joke. If they were really ‘peers’ they wouldn’t be reviewing our paper, they’d be doing this stuff themselves.”

“Yeah, okay, Doctor Redhead,” I laughed. Cindy didn’t often come off as arrogant, but if anyone around here could justify it, that would be her. Or Nikki, who was slightly less flamboyant.

Okay. Back to work. In addition to the stack of client drawings, I have new catalogs to peruse. “That’s dangerous,” my husband says. “I was told that the most dangerous thing in industry is an engineer with a new catalog.”

“I will be careful,” I laughed. “I’m not one of those people who has to put the latest trinkets into service.”

“We’re here to make life better, doll,” he retorted. “For our clients. Just remember that we’re supposed to SOLVE problems, not create new ones.”

Problems. Old equipment reacts slowly. In 1960, lights flickering meant nothing. In 2017, a flicker means havoc to computers and EVERYTHING these days is a computer. My task is to help a utility company speed up some things so that the inevitable fault won’t suck the voltage down over a larger area than it needs to.

I explained that ‘needs to’ statement to an intern one day. “We can get to 95% pretty easily. To get to 99%, we’re going to spend a LOT of money. And it doesn’t matter how much money we spend, we NEVER get to a hundred percent.” It’s a part of that ‘facts versus wishes’ lecture that Alan gave to me and now it’s my turn to pass it on.

It’s just work. As I pore over the specifications of a digital protection relay, I pause, think about what it would be like to be stacking jeans at a department store. I’ve shopped for jeans. I find it pleasant that they were properly stacked, but if the person who stocked the shelves had gotten them out of order, I’d’ve had to spend an extra minute searching through the stack.

That drawing over there is the protection for a goodly chunk of the South’s power grid. Hose that up, and the lights go out in Georgia, and that’s not just an old song. People trust us to make this thing work.

Speaking of trust ... Am I being too overprotective when I call Mimi mid-morning?

“Hey, Tina!” she chirps.

“Hi, Mimi? How’s the kiddo?”

“Good. Say, ain’t kids this age supposed to try to EAT LEGOS?”

“They’re playing with LEGOS?”

“Those great big ones. I know better than to give a two-year-old something he can stick in his mouth and swallow. But these big ones...”

I relaxed. Terri’s got a big tub of LEGO blocks in her room. We don’t let Kathy play with them. Yet. We bought some oversized ones. The kids play with those.

“They can play with the big ones,” I said. “Why?”

Mimi sighed. “Interesting. Elise made the other two sort them by color, then they divided them into equal piles. Now they’re putting them together...”

“Okayyyy...”

“Tina, they’re TWO!”

“I know, right?!?” I giggled. “Told you that they weren’t NORMAL.”

“Yeah, but...”

“Am I the first?”

“First what?”

“First mommy to call and check on the kids today?”

Mimi laughed. “Nope. Susan beat you to it.”

“You know it doesn’t mean we don’t trust you,” I said.

“Tina, if I had one like this, he’d be the most important thing in my life, too...”

“Well, she IS,” I said. “Right there with Alan and Terri.”

“They’re frustrated, you know.”

“Who’s frustrated?”

“The babies. I get the feeling that they’re frustrated that their hands don’t work like they want. Playing with those blocks – they want to do more, but they’re just not that well developed. Same thing with language. But boy, can they talk.”