Chapter 31

I did have plans for Monday morning, though despite what I'd told Doug they hadn't required advance preparation. With no idea how long it would take, I was up by 6:00 and down for breakfast by a little before 7:00.

Doug wasn't there again—still sleeping it off, I surmised—but Celeste was. If she'd missed dinner entirely she'd be pretty hungry by now, and her mildly chubby body told me it wasn't accustomed to missing many meals. She smiled at me pleasantly as I entered but made no move to invite me to join her, and I took another table.

Once again it was order-anything-you-like, and this time I opted for French toast and bacon. It came with honest-to-God maple syrup—none of the artificially flavored substitutes for this place—and the toast was beautifully crispy on the outside and soft and succulent inside. The bacon, which came in thick strips, was perfectly cooked. I finished every bite.

About halfway through Celeste got up and walked over to me purposefully. She leaned down so the waitress, a few feet away, wouldn't hear. "Larry, I wanted to thank you again from the bottom of my heart for yesterday," she said. "I'm going home today. I called Bertie last night and we talked for a very long time. We both said a lot of things we've needed to say to each other for, well, forever, you know. And I think it's, well, it's all going to work out. I'll always be grateful to you." And she kissed me smartly on the cheek.

I looked up at her and smiled. "Good luck, Celeste," I told her.

"You know, I don't think I'll need it, not now," she replied. Smiling again, she left.

Susan giggled. "Just two 'you knows, '" she said. "And six, no seven, sentences. Wow."

"Smart-ass," I teased her.

"It is, actually," she responded in kind. "Ooh, maple."

"Huh?"

"I just sat down on your French toast; that's the flavor."

"Yuck," I said. "Sit down on your own damn food."

"I will if I ever get an ass to sit down on again," she said, suddenly sour.

"Come on, baby," I cajoled. "Don't start that again. Just give it time."

"I know," she sighed. "I will. Patience, girl, patience."

The girl at the front desk—yet another one; they seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of teeny-boppers in the area—told me where to go to find a shopping center with the stores I was looking for. So after breakfast I headed off in the car in the direction she'd told me.

Of course my directions were a little skimpy. It was the usual when you asked a native how to get places; they were real good on the primary turns but tended to forget about things like forks in the road. I guess you get used to the roads and overlook what's glaringly obvious to a visitor. I managed to pick the wrong direction both times I had a choice, and had to retrace my steps. But ultimately we got there.

First I needed a hardware store, which also happened to be the first thing I saw in the long strip mall. The Liberator, which was otherwise extruded plastic, did require one metal part, a nail that would act as the firing pin. The download had been quite specific about size and configuration, and the store had plenty of them. Naturally you couldn't buy just one, but it wouldn't hurt to have backups; I picked up a package of a dozen.

I also got a spirit level and a Phillips-head screwdriver; I'd need them as well. And a bottle of acetone, plus a tiny brush to apply it. My Liberator download and the printer specs warned that I'd need both.

Then I went shopping in the home hardware department. What I wanted were three or four doorknob sets, as different as I could find. Susan was completely puzzled at my choices, but I just told her to "wait and see" on that. Several seemed good candidates; I got four. On the way out a display offered a selection of key-rings; I grinned and picked one up with a cute little rabbit's-foot fob. A small tube of superglue also went into the cart.