Chapter 9

"Harold, we brought our own housing. Can we set up here?" Ed asked.

"Nope, sorry. The housing authority here said no camping or trailers, but you can sleep on the boat. It's wired, there's a working john on the boat and it's hooked to the airbase plumbing." Harold sounded a little envious. "You really need to see what you're giving up. It's a classy boat."

Ed bumped Seph in the ribs. He whispered, "we can see if there are any clues for a watch."

If you think one hundred and fifty-six feet of Italian design is impressive on the outside ... you should see the inside. Ed was floored ... and in love. Six different kinds of mahogany, four different teaks, circassian walnut, english walnut, black walnut, pecan, birch, quarter-sawn maple ... rare woods he never heard of and some he knew were endangered.

Seph saw that look and said, "Ed, does this look like a normal people boat?"

"No," he said, sheepishly.

"Are we normal people?"

"I guess," he sighed, "but it's so pretty."

She held up her hands. "See these hands, Ed?"

"Yes..."

"These hands are pretty ... they wouldn't be if I had to keep all this wood clean." She drew a breath, "normal people ... even slightly upper middle class don't have boats like this ... and they damn sure don't have a crew that does nothing else but wipe up salt spray and polish wood. These are MY hands ... I'm NOT going to keep this boat looking like this ... are YOU?"

"You're right ... a boat like this would cost a good million dollars a year ... just for upkeep. That's a lot of money for something we'd use 12 weekends a year. Ok ... I get it." He ran a loving hand across the marvelous wood and said, wistfully... "Bye bye, boat."

"And while we're at it, HAROLD?" She hollered up the hatchway.

Wonder of all wonders, he heard them just as he was going to close up the hangar.

"Yes, Seph?"

"Meet us at the semi cab, please." She gave Ed a gentle poke. "Get going, cowboy."

They took the ladder off the stern and hiked up to the Volvo tractor. Harold was there soon enough.

"Harold, teach us to fly. I want to keep the Beech twin and the Staggerwing ... you make us proficient and you can HAVE the rest of the aircraft ... I mean, what would we do with the Sabre or a MIG? The Waco planes? Money poured in a hole in the air and it's going to be bad enough having two boats ... boat is a hole in the water you pour money in. Fiberglas isn't as expensive as wood but it's still new paint every couple of years ... new sails every five and an overhaul here and there.

"I'll give you even money Ed is going to want to build a cedar strip canoe and a get a set of waders for trout fishing and the sailboats will sit at the marina. We'll use them a couple of years and that'll be it."

"Your kids might have something to say about that."

"Harold ... Ed's snipped and I'm tied. Both of us together wouldn't make half a parent. We're both crazy ... fun but nuts. I play an extremely proficient flute and Ed's a fair hand at the lute and guitar. We don't have time for kids. You don't take babies to the Met or the Royal Ballet. If we must, we'll adopt. Somebody older who lost their parents to accident or calamity. A girl ... Ed is enough trouble by his own self."

Harold asked, "have you seen my daughter?"

"Should I?"

"Those legs in Cosmo showing off shoes and the spectacular butt wearing tiny panties?"

Seph and Ed both nodded ... Seph gave Ed such a look.

"That's her. Boys? You worry about one dick ... girls ... you worry about every dick."

Harold laughed, "when she got her drivers license we chipped her ... and the 'vette. Sent her to the doc and he put a tracer chip under her skin. Sent the 'vette to a first class agency and they put several trackers on it. She's too fucking beautiful ... pardon my French ... to let out on the street."

They thought about that tidbit for awhile.

Seph finally said, "will you take the planes for training us?"

"Oh, yes ma'am ... in a New York minute ... and the business will do your annuals and hundred hour checks free for life."

He looked at the Volvo and flatbed. "I'm going to deliver this wherever Megan wants and then I'm keeping the truck." He laughed, "she's, for sure, not going to haul it on this again. My wife is expecting ... I should go."

"Expecting? Oh Harold ... when is she due? Have we been keeping you too long?"

"Wrong kind of expecting ... she's expecting me for dinner."

"Harold? Before you go ... please don't tell Megan, Mina, DD or Violet..."

"Especially Violet," said Ed.

Seph glared at him..."Yes Ed ... Especially Violet, Harold ... that we're here. We've played an enormous trick on her. We hope she doesn't find it out until Monday or Tuesday. Tuesday would be best."

"Where did the people in the tipi go?" Violet had the note, but hadn't read it yet. "They were here this morning."

Eleanor and John Elmwood were walking by.

"Gosh, Violet ... they were here last night. The tipi was buzzing until two am. I heard them leave at five ... but they came back. Maybe you should read the note?"

Well, now ... that made sense, Violet was, after all was said and done, a product of her times ... and her times were sudden death and violence. She reacted as a savage ... pissed because she was put off. It was only when her training came into play that she decided the advice was good ... read the note. She did.

'Violet: Thanks for the help with the dedication ceremony. We appreciate the time and effort you've provided. It's time we moved on. Ed and Seph'

Violet blew her stack.

Blowing your stack is a term from steam days. If the fire got too hot and the water turning to steam didn't have work to do, eventually the pressure buildup caused a leak in the boiler tubes. This released massive amounts of high pressure steam. Either the boiler casing failed to contain the pressure and exploded or the casing did its job and the steam all escaped up the smokestack ... usually taking the stack with it. 'Blow the stack.'

Violet turned bright red and lost her English. Certain Native American languages can sound immensely expressive and they can make a statement like, 'the sky is blue, ' sound like the worlds best drill sergeant expressing his displeasure with this particular group of trainees ... a group so inept that he doubted their survival. Said departure being at his hands.

Violet ran to the house. Had she been Clark Kent, she would have been seeking the nearest phone booth. Cellphones mostly eliminated those so she headed for the passage way beneath the fancy staircase. Violet started flickering.

With her watch, she didn't have to worry ... too much ... about people seeing her pop in and out of time. She started at 2am ... tipi... 3am ... tipi... 4am ... tipi... 5am ... tipi... 6am ... tipi... 7am ... no tipi.

OK ... sometime between six and seven in the morning they loaded their truck and left.

Back to 5am and the parking lot ... no truck ... but fresh tracks, the grass was springing back up and the tires left a line of no dew. Just missed them ... Time it to the nearest Lottery outlet ... not open ... eventually she found them going into a 24 hour convenience mart ... ah ... ticket.

They didn't reappear at the gathering... ??? ... where did they go? Forwarding to the tipi, they drove up at five-thirty ... coffee? Maybe.

The lodge was gone in 22 minutes ... the truck passing the Pipers Pepper Place in eight more. They were heading west on the freeway ... Montgomery. She relaxed and popped back to the gathering.