Mining a Meteorite
Copyright© 2009 by Peter H. Salus
Preface
"Hollister."
"Hi, Gordy."
"Greetings, O evil father-in-law."
"We're fine. But I've got a mining problem. Might you have time to talk to me and possibly help?"
"You know I've always time for you, but I know nothing about mining."
"That's Okay. Would tomorrow be possible? I'd drive up."
"You or both of you?"
"Just me. This is work."
"I'll be in the office by 9 or 9:30. We'll go off for lunch at some point."
"Fine. Kiss Weena and Pat for me."
"Right."
"Who was that?"
"Your dad. I'm meeting him at my office tomorrow."
"I'll figure out something for dinner. Martha's at the library, I think."
"I don't think he'll be staying. He sounded serious about talking to me about something. Not a word about Mary or about coming here. Just that I should kiss you and Patrick for him."
"Funny. I wonder what it is. I thought they'd be all quiet after nearly a year away."
"They've been back for months. Enough time to get bored with sitting still and fishing."
"I suppose."
"I'll try to get away by four and tell you all."
"You'd better! Otherwise I'm stuck with Patrick for conversation." I leaned over and kissed her.
"I didn't marry you for conversation."
"Don't try to butter me up!"
"No butter. You'd slip out of my lewd grasp."
"Cheeky!"
I kissed her again. "Where's Patrick?"
"In his playpen, tallying his toes."
"I'll worry when one falls off."
"Can that really happen?"
"Yes, but I've never heard of it in Australia. Only in Africa and South America, I seem to recall. It's called Ainhum."
"Seriously?"
"Look it up. Isn't there a medical dictionary here?"
"I've got an old Stedman, but it's in a box."
"Well, use google." I walked to Patrick's doorway. He was talking to his toes, but most of it was unintelligible. "Hi, Patrick."