For months, the tactic of leaving the car at Shae's studio and taking the subway on into Manhattan had worked well for Dave, but it was built around the idea that Shae was going to be there anyway. While she had business to deal with at the studio, she also had other business downtown at the WSN office. After considerable discussion, they'd agreed to leave the car at the studio as usual, and she would take the subway on into Manhattan when she'd dealt with the issues there. Dave had no idea how long it was going to take him at Aaron Tietelbaum's office and at the Dunlap and Fyre office, so they decided to just maintain contact with their cell phones, and meet back at the studio at five as a backup.

Even nearing six months of pregnancy Shae wasn't noticeably pregnant, even in the nude, unless you looked closely. She was just so damn big that the baby didn't make any impression. Dave remembered that at six months, Julie had clearly been pregnant, but it wasn't as obvious with Shae. But this morning, with malice aforethought, Shae was wearing an outfit that made her look a couple months further along. Dave knew this was strictly a political move to pull at the studio, and while he and Shae had frequently talked about the issues and personalities involved, he was somewhat detached from it. This would have to be Shae's battle to fight.

Still, when they kissed goodbye in the studio parking lot, she smiled and whispered, "This gets settled today, one way or the other. Wish me luck."

"Back at you," he said. "I think some of my office issues are going to get settled today, too."

The subway headed onto Manhattan was crowded; it was right around the tail end of the rush hour, and Dave felt a little tight for time, as he had an appointment with Aaron Tietelbaum before he went to Dunlap and Fyre. There were several issues he needed to bring up with Aaron, and the question of the half million Stan had raised the day before just added to the list.

As it turned out, there was nothing terribly earth shattering to deal with at the accountant's office, and Aaron's reaction to Dave's suggestion to Stan was fairly simple. "Officially, since we wrote off the money I don't want to hear about it," he said. "Unofficially, you came up with a pretty good solution off the top of your head. It keeps your hands out of it but accomplishes what you want, and that's always nice. You're starting to learn this stuff, Dave."

"No, I'm not," he said. "I just want to get this all in shape so I don't have to worry about it."

"Not going to happen," the little man smiled. "The government and the IRS are always doing something to keep us accountants in business. I'm just glad we've managed to get you through this without too much pain."

"I was telling Shae yesterday that she and I are creative people, not business people," Dave replied. "I'd just as soon keep it that way. Shae and I have some friends who like to take their guitars and set up in some mall with open gig bags, you know, like we see on the streets around here. They're creative people, and I'd be willing to bet good money that the IRS doesn't hear about one damn dime that lands in the gig bags."

"Sooner or later they're going to get their butts burned for not reporting it," Aaron said. "But the battle between the creative types and the business types is always there. Hell, I wouldn't have a business if it wasn't for it. You take care, Dave. I'll see you in a couple months or so, but don't be afraid to call if something comes up or you have questions."

The streets were busy as Dave walked the several blocks to the Ford building. He'd talked to Michelle once or twice a week over the past month, but he hadn't wanted to come right out and ask her what she thought of the book proposal he'd left her on his previous trip.

Knowing how busy Michelle was, Dave had set up an appointment for 10:30 with her, and as it turned out he was a little early; she was on the phone in the overcrowded office, as was normally the case. Once again, Dave looked around the jam-packed, confused mess and was glad he didn't have to try to work here.

"Holy Christ," Michelle said when she finally managed to hang up the phone. "I don't know why it always seems like one of those mornings when you show up here, except maybe for the fact that every morning is one of those mornings. Rob wants to see you first thing, so let's head into his office before the phone goes off again."

There were several things that visit could be about, but Dave was most afraid it was going to be a serious offer to move him up in the office hierarchy. He'd made up his mind months ago that Dunlap and Fyre could no longer afford to pay him enough to get him to take any of the positions that had been mentioned. However, since the option of doing editing part time or on a contract basis still hung out there he didn't want to brush it off too brusquely. And the book lay there, too, for whatever it was worth.

When he and Michelle walked into the office, Dick was already there, talking with Rob. "Have a seat, Dave, if you can find one," Rob said. "We've got several things to run past you."

"That's what I'm here for," Dave smiled.

"First things first," Michelle said. "This book proposal you brought in the last time you were here. I've had half a dozen people look it over, and the worst comment I've had is, 'Holy Christ, this is good.' Well, with the exception of Rayme, who thought it was shit, but his opinion no longer matters."

"It doesn't?" Dave said. "The impression I had the last time I was here was he was pretty certain to take your job, Dick."

"Well, he's not," Rob said flatly. "In fact, he's out the door. He gave too many people the impression it was a done deal, and it was never more than a long shot. When he trashed this book proposal, he proved he didn't know anything about science fiction or fantasy, and we couldn't have him overseeing the department no matter who was running it. For that matter, I haven't been all that pleased with the general fiction he'd been putting out, either. Anyway, Michelle is going to be taking over Dick's job at the end of the year, so we need to renew the idea of your taking over her job."

Well, good news and bad news right there. "I've thought about it some," he said tentatively, not giving any hint of the answer he'd already worked out.

"I know you think this is a zoo," Rob said. "And you're right, it is. I can't imagine how bad it would be if we didn't have half the staff working at home. That has worked pretty well and I think we're going to continue it in a fairly large way when we move back to the old offices."

"We're moving back?" Dave said in surprise. "I thought the building was so bad they were going to drop it."

"That's what we thought until a couple months ago," Rob said. "But it turns out that while the facade took a beating it's still structurally sound. We haven't been given a date we can move back in, but it won't be in the next couple months, and could be six months to a year. It'll take a bit of the pressure off. But there's something else that figures in, and that's this book proposal Michelle brought to me. God, it's dark for fantasy, but I think it says things that should be said. Now, I notice there's no title or author listed. Can you fill us in a little?"

Oh, hell, Dave thought. For better or worse, it was time to come all the way clean, especially knowing that they liked the book. "There's a reason the author's name isn't on it," he said. "The working title at the moment is Slave of Sinsy, but it's changed a few times, and I'm open to suggestions."

"You're open to suggestions?" Michelle grinned. "Dick, that's five bucks you owe me."

"I voted with Michelle," Rob grinned. "I thought the dark, antifundamentalist message had to be something that came from the heart. Dick said he thought it must have been some friend of yours, like that big gal you had at the Christmas party."

"No, she just does kids' stuff," Dave smiled. "She doesn't look at things that darkly. By the way, we're getting married on August fourth in Bradford, and we hope to be in our new house before the baby arrives. The three of you and your spouses are invited to the wedding, but we haven't gotten out formal invitations yet."

"Boy, you don't mess around, do you?" Rob grinned. "I take what you just said to mean you're not interested in becoming science fiction chief editor at Dunlap and Fyre, right?"

"Not unless I can do it online," Dave said flatly. "I still miss Julie a lot, and I have yet to be able to get up the whatever it takes to go down to the World Trade Center site. I cannot imagine how I could ever work in the old offices overlooking it." That wasn't totally a lie; it would have been difficult. A visit, maybe once in a while -- but day to day would be intolerable. But right now, it was a solid gold excuse that was irresistible.

"Not surprising," Dick said. "Michelle, that's my five bucks back."

"Well, at least we got that settled now," Rob said. "How close are you to finishing this dark fantasy of yours?"

"Not real close," Dave replied. "It's never been my first priority, and it's gotten squeezed out at times, although I try to do a little each day. I wanted to see if I could write fantasy. The darkness came from reflections on Julie's death, and really, it's been therapeutic. I deliberately didn't put my name on it because I didn't want you judging it as something coming from someone in-house."

"I figured that," Rob said. "You're not the first person in the business to do it this way, either. I'm just glad you didn't decide to take it elsewhere, because I think this one can be a breakthrough into mainstream, sort of like The Handmaiden's Tale. So, the next question: would a $50,000 advance get it done in the next six months or so?"

"Rob," Dave said. "If you want to publish it and push it, not just as a favor to an employee but as a potential best seller, then a five-dollar advance would be enough. Like I said, I wanted to write fantasy, but this story was what came out, and I think it demands to be told. I know this is going to sound strange, but the money is secondary, at best. The book is, in its way, my monument to Julie. It's a vision of what could happen if we let those bastards have their way."

"Yeah, and you don't pull many punches, either," Dick said. "Not just Muslims, but all kinds of fundamentalists. I agree, this is a story that demands to be told. What's more I was telling Rob before you came in that I think it needs enough of a push that I'm willing to stay on either as fiction chief or science fiction chief for a while to make sure it gets the push it needs. That'll give Michelle some time to get her feet under her and give the rest of us time to get new general fiction and science fiction chiefs settled in before I head off to the Sunshine State. Hell, I'm not sure I really want to retire anyway. But to get back to the main question, can you have an editable first draft done in six months or so, if it becomes your first priority?"

"It shouldn't be any problem," Dave said. "The thing of it is I'm probably going to have to quit editing to get it done in that time frame, and I really don't want to give up being an editor. This thing may be a one-shot wonder if it flies at all. I'm not sure I can do another one like it. As I told you, Shae and I are committed to staying in Bradford, but I'm willing to continue editing on a part-time or contract basis once I get this book done."

"Can you get your current projects wrapped up before you go full time on it?" Michelle asked. "I'm under the impression you're pretty well done with what's on your plate, and we were trying to keep the list short in case you decided to take my job after all."

"Yeah, a week or two at the most," Dave nodded. "Hell, the main thing on my list for this trip was to beg for more work."

"Looks to me like you've got it," Rob said. "All right, how about this: in lieu of an advance, we'll continue your salary from now until you turn in a completed first draft without assigning you other projects?"

"I'm not going to turn down the money," Dave said. "Just understand that the money is not an issue. Like I said, this is a memorial to Julie. Rob, she left me an awful lot of money, more than I ever dreamed. You saved my butt in several ways when you introduced me to Aaron Tietelbaum. To be honest, if I'm careful with it, I don't need to work again, ever. However, I want to work, because I'm not good at doing nothing. If it's writing and the output is valid, that's fine with me. If it's editing, that's fine too, because I enjoy doing it. If neither of those work out, I own a piece of the local newspaper in Bradford, and the boss is always looking for cheap talent. But I'm not a New Yorker anymore, and the only office I ever want to work in again is being built in a cupola in my new home overlooking a woods and a quiet pond."

"I frankly think you're crazy as hell," Rob grinned. "This city is where it's at, and I can't imagine anyone wanting to live anywhere else."

"The feeling is mutual," Dave grinned back. "I've come to believe that anyone who wants to live here is crazy as hell and can't imagine my being crazy enough to want to live here again."

"When was the wedding?" Rob smiled, as Dave understood the business part of the meeting was pretty much over with. "Maybe I'll have to come, if I can figure out where the hell Ohio or Indiana or whatever is."

There were other issues to be dealt with around the Dunlap and Fyre office, including a quick meeting with Larissa Hamilton, who had finally finished her book; in fact, Dave's final edit of it came with him on this trip. It was more conventional fantasy than Slave of Sinsy, a name he didn't like but at least served as a working title. Rob took both of them to lunch, where Dave was a little surprised when Larissa urged him to get cracking on finishing the book because she wanted to read it -- Michelle had slipped her a few chapters; she loved it and was quite surprised to discover Dave was the author.

By the middle of the afternoon, Dave was about done with what he had to do at Dunlap and Fyre.

Once he got out of the office, he headed down to the street and pulled out his cell phone and called Shae. It turned out she was up at the WNN offices, between meetings.

"So, what happened?" he asked. "Or do the walls have ears?"

"Well, there are some things I'd rather tell you face to face," she said. "But the upshot at the moment is if they continue Avalon, which is not a done deal, they're going to slowly phase out Shaella Sunrise. It looks like I may have to be in the city for a week or so every month or two for a while. It's just enough to make me wonder whether it's worth the trouble to keep the apartment or not, and at the moment I'm leaning toward not. I'm up here talking about maybe doing color or calling at some games in the Midwest, just to hold down travel expenses. But it won't be much more than a once-in-a-while thing to keep my foot in the door. What about you?"

"The short version is they want me to hurry and finish up the book," he said. He went on to explain it looked like he was going to be facing the occasional trip to New York well into the unknown future, and probably some travel promoting the book when the time came, maybe next summer. "But, as of today, I'm a former New Yorker. I can tell you about it later."

"Why don't we meet uptown?" she suggested. "We can have dinner, and it may yet turn into a dinner meeting."

"Fine with me," he said. "Let's figure on meeting at WSN at five if we can't make contact by cell."

"Sounds good, lover," she replied. "OK, gotta run."

"See you later, babe," he replied.

Dave punched off the cell phone and looked at it for a moment. He'd only used it rarely in Bradford, and usually didn't keep it with him, but with both he and Shae heading different places on uncertain schedules, today it was invaluable. Only then did it strike him that this was the same cell phone on which he'd heard Julie's last words nine months before -- and, a few hours later, the first words he'd heard from Shae in over a decade.

Up in the Dunlap and Fyre office, he'd mentioned he hadn't been over to the World Trade Center site since Julie's death; back last fall, even going near it had been a fast trip to a deep depression, and he just hadn't risked it since.

But that was then, and it was hard to believe things had changed for him so much in nine months. If the towers hadn't gone down, it seemed likely that he and Julie would still be living in Battery Park Village, the boys would still be going to their expensive private school -- and, well, a lot of things that had happened in the nine months wouldn't have happened. In spite of the huge hole that Julie's death had left in his life, with a lot of help from friends, he'd mostly forgotten about how hard it had been to pick up the pieces and put his life together again. In some ways, it would be a better life than before, and in spite of how much he loved Shae and looked toward the future with her, he still wished Julie could share it with him.

He glanced at his watch: close to three hours to kill. Plenty of time. For nine months, he'd been avoiding the World Trade Center site, and now he knew he couldn't do it any longer.

It was quite a ways from the Ford building in midtown to the World Trade Center site, but the subway made it a fairly quick trip. He had to walk the last few blocks but it was a familiar trip through places he'd often been before, although always in the past with the twin towers looming over him; now, they were gone, and so much else had gone with them. He hadn't seen the place close up since a few hours after the buildings went down, but in spite of trying to avoid it, he'd seen lots of pictures that jibed with his memory: a mess.

At street level it wasn't a mess now -- at least no more of a mess than someone from Bradford would think about anywhere in New York. He knew a low viewing stand had been erected over the site, but he had to find it before he could climb to the top. Where once the towers had loomed high overhead, there now was a hole in the ground, with a ramp leading down into it. As he watched, a truck with a flatbed trailer crawled up the ramp, carrying a steel beam, another piece of the towers being hauled off.

To the best of his knowledge -- and this part he'd kept good contact on -- there had never been any sign of Julie found, no body, no remains, nothing identifiable, anyway. The way the pile of rubble had smoked and smoldered for months had pretty well taken care of any hope of finding anything of her, either. He remembered telling Shae last fall that in New York there was no avoiding seeing the smoke of Julie's funeral pyre, and that was what it had indeed been. But somehow, he felt that Julie's spirit was still here, hanging around, perhaps waiting for him to come make his final peace with what had happened.

"God, I still miss you, Julie," he said in a low voice, even though there was no one else on the viewing stand at the moment. "The boys are doing fine, but they miss you, too. They're going to have a wonderful woman trying to fill your shoes, but she can never be what you were to them. We're going to be living in Bradford, and I think Shae and I can make a good life for them. We're doing our best to make sure they don't forget you. I know I never will, Julie. We had a wonderful life together, but I've had to come to realize I can't wallow in what we had and have to move on with things, especially for your sons. But I'll never stop wishing it could have been with you."

Dave stood there on the viewing stand for a few more moments, reflecting on what had been and what might have been, and what had come to be. "I guess that's about what I had to say, Julie," he said finally. "Except that now, for the first time, I feel like I can say goodbye. Thank you, Julie. Thank you for everything you did for me. I still love you, babe."

There was nothing more to say, nothing more to see as he turned to walk down the stairs and on to a new life.

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