Steve sat through a couple of coffee refills, just replaying his thinking. Several of the revelations about Ann seemed solid, but others were still pretty speculative. About the third time the waitress – he’d figured out she was the Becky of the name of the place – came by to offer him another refill, he turned it down, stating that he had to be getting on the road. His thoughts were chasing their own tails anyway. He was missing something, something important, probably something right under his nose, and he didn’t know what it was. Probably there was more than one something.

Once out on the road in the Caliber his thoughts changed somewhat. There was obviously something very funny going on in that huge, eerie old Victorian house stuck back in the woods, something else he didn’t understand. But what should he do about it?

As the miles rolled by he came up with the best interim answer he could manage – do nothing. Just do what he was told, and let what was going on be revealed to him in its own good time. He was obviously being groomed for something, although he had only the vaguest idea of what it would be, whether it would be short-term or long-term. If he went along with the game, it seemed like he could be ending up with a considerable amount of money – maybe not as much as Uncle Homer was worth, or even what he suspected Ann must be worth. If he could manage that and stay out of jail in the process it might be worth the effort. It might be best to not upset the apple cart by being too nosy.

About an hour out he came to a town that had one of the public libraries on the list Ann had given him. He took the thumb drive inside, asked the librarian to use one of the public computers, and went to work. It was only the work of a couple minutes to log onto Zapmail and figure out the unfamiliar screen. Working quickly, he started a new e-mail, copied the address, subject line, and body of the message, which was an apple pie recipe, of all things, so he figured the real message must have been in the attachment. That only took a moment to append to the email; he hit “send” and it was gone. He logged off Zapmail and got off the computer in probably less than five minutes.

“That didn’t take long,” the librarian said as he was on his way out.

“No, but my laptop is screwed up and won’t connect to wireless,” he lied. “It was some stuff I had to get to the home office. Thanks much for your help.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” the cheerful, chubby blonde librarian said. “Stop in and see us again sometime.”

“I might have to,” he said, “but I’m not from around here. Nice library you have here, though.”

“Thank you. We like it. You have a good day.”

Half an hour later he did the same thing again in a large, cut-stone library with a historical plaque that said it was one of the few remaining largely unmodified Carnegie libraries built more than a century before. That finished the first part of the project. He changed directions now, heading for a computer store in a city thirty miles off. On the way he passed through a small town with a post office and used the box out front to drop off the two pre-stamped manila envelopes. A few minutes later he dropped off the dozen or so smaller envelopes in front of a mall in the town with the big-box electronics store. There was no telling what any of it might be about, but he figured he’d find out sooner or later if he needed to know.

Buying the computer took a little more time. It happened to be one of those stores that actually employed sales personnel, which was getting to be all too rare. He talked about this computer and that one with a salesman who seemed to know what he was talking about. It took half an hour to get a midrange computer. The salesman suggested two monitors so he could have different files visible at the same time, and Steve had found that feature to be useful at RELI, so bought two medium-sized monitors, along with some other peripherals, which included a combination scanner/fax/printer at a reasonable price. It all added up to more than a thousand dollars, which still seemed steep even considering the way Steve had been throwing around figures in the hundreds of thousands only days before.

As friendly as the salesman had been, his friendship didn’t extend to helping Steve haul everything out to the car, but at least there was a large grocery-store-style cart he could use. That pretty well shot the main issues Steve had on his list, except for getting back, getting groceries, and calling Phil Crocker.

A quick check of the cell phone reported an excellent connection, so he decided that sitting in the car right there was as good a place as any. It took a few minutes to get Phil’s home number – Steve didn’t have it in his memory – but dialing it soon got him in touch.

“Hey, Phil, Steve Taylor,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“It could damn well be better,” Phil replied. “I’m still pretty pissed at that shit those bastards from Shawtex pulled on us, but I figure there’s not much I can do about it.”

With that for an opening there wasn’t much Steve figured he could do but get down to business. “Hey, I was talking with Craig Markham the other day, and he said you were trying to pull together a new operation.”

“Yeah, there are a couple contracts I think I can get back when they expire.” He named a couple of job numbers Steve was familiar with. “I’ve already talked with the guys involved, and they don’t want to do business with Shawtex a minute longer than they have to. Shawtex is getting the parts made in China. The quality control has gone straight to hell, and the delivery dates are so much wishful thinking.”

“I hear that kind of shit goes along with doing business in China,” Steve agreed. “So what’s the deal on getting a new operation going?”

“It takes money to make money, you know that. Like I said, I’m pretty sure I can get the contracts if I have a place to do the work and the machinery to do it with. I’ve got a line on both of them, and there are a few guys from RELI who are still looking for work who would love to hop on it. The problem is that it takes up-front cash, and after this bullshit with Shawtex the banks don’t want to talk to me.”

“God, that sucks,” Steve sympathized. “How much are you going to need?”

“I’m still working on that one, trying to cut corners. I think I have a building I can get into on a short-term lease, so that should be covered, though still I need front money. I’ve tracked down most of the machinery we’d need, most of it used and some of it used a lot, but it would be enough to get us going. Once we get the parts flowing there probably would be money to replace equipment as needed.”

“Yeah, build it up by your bootstraps.”

“I’ve done it before and it’s not any fun, but I’ll do it again if I have to. The problem is that I need the front money. How much isn’t real clear, but I’m guessing somewhere around a quarter mil if I cut it a little on the tight side. More would obviously be better since I wouldn’t have to get as much junk machinery. You don’t happen to know anyone who has that much cash floating around they don’t need?”

“Not right off the top of my head,” Steve fibbed, not wanting to show his hand just yet. “But I know a guy who might know a guy who piddles around with venture capital. I don’t know if he’d be interested, or even if this is something down his alley, or what.”

“God, if you could come up with something, that would be wonderful. I’m not in a position where I want to get involved with loan sharks, but something legitimate would get things rolling again. I think I can build on that.”

“Well, I can’t make any promises or anything, but I’ll snoop around. If this guy is interested, I don’t have any idea what kind of terms he’d want.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, Steve, I don’t want to get my ass in a sling like that again. Whatever happens, I have to maintain majority ownership so I can’t get shit on like those Shawtex bastards did to me. I think I learned my lesson on that one. I’d be willing to talk a loan on pretty unfavorable terms before I let that happen.”

“That’s totally understandable and I can pass that along. But like I said, no promises.”

“Well, if you can come up with something that will get me going again, I’d really appreciate it. Look, if something happens, whether you’re involved with finding the money or not, are you interested in coming along with me? I’m going to need a serious quality control guy.”

“Phil, I can’t make any promises about that, either,” Steve admitted. “Things got sort of crazy around me the last few days, and I may have another opportunity coming along. We’re just going to have to wait and see what happens.”

“Can’t blame you on that one. Let’s face it, this could be a long shot, but it’s a no-shot if I can’t get the start-up capital. Jesus, I’d sure give a lot to be able to take a chunk out of the ass of those Shawtex bastards the way they did me.”

“You never know,” Steve smiled. “Stranger things have happened. If it does, save a piece of them for me. Good talking to you, Phil. Like I said, let me do some snooping around, maybe talk to a few people. No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Anything you can do to help would be appreciated.”

“I’ll let you know if and when I hear something,” Steve told him.

After he was done Steve clicked off the call. He’d actually learned quite a bit of key data – the first thing being that Markham had given him good information, the second that Phil was seriously pissed but had good prospects, though wasn’t about to let his butt get caught on the short end of a stock-ownership deal again. The money – well, it was clear that a quarter million was going to be cutting it goddamn tight. Knowing what he did about quality control and production engineering, Steve was pretty sure that a half million, rather than a quarter, would be money well spent and would pay for itself quickly in machine repair and replacement costs if nothing else. But half a million was also getting near the limit for just those two contracts, too – and then they’d have to be tied down pretty tightly with binding legal paperwork, not just pie in the sky.

In short, Steve thought it was a good prospect. He knew enough about Phil and the kind of work he did and his insistence on quality that he’d be willing to bet a hundred thousand of his own money on it, maybe even as much as a hundred and a quarter if he could work the tax angle right. It was pretty much found money as far as he was concerned, not quite real, so in one sense of the word it was no big deal. But realistically, it was only about a quarter of what Phil would need to make a go of things. Good enough for a positive recommendation to Uncle Homer? Within reason, but he was sure Uncle Homer would see things he didn’t. There was nothing he could do but ask.

There really wasn’t a great deal for Steve to do after that, and he had plenty of time to kill if he was going to stay away from Uncle Homer’s house until it was about time for Ann to be getting up. He killed part of it by stopping at a quiet little country restaurant he found along the way. The food was good and reasonably priced, but what impressed him the most was the waitress – a very thin, plain-looking girl who was an absolute bundle of energy, smiling and flirting with just about every word she spoke in spite of the wedding ring she wore prominently. It was obviously just good-natured teasing and she was good at it.

The thing that really got his attention about the waitress was that she was just about the complete opposite of Ann, especially in her personality. Where Ann was quiet, sober, and serious, hardly ever cracking a smile and only rarely allowing anything human to show through, this gal was just absolutely vivacious and full of energy. The contrasts were obvious, and it set him to wondering even more about the mystery of Ann and who she was.

It was late in the afternoon when Steve arrived back at Uncle Homer’s house. Ann was up and waiting for him, seemingly as awake as ever; the only thing out of the ordinary was that she was dressed in khaki slacks and another white blouse. It was the first time Steve had seen her when she wasn’t wearing a skirt or dress. “Good evening, Mr. Taylor,” she said warmly. “Did you manage to get everything done?”

“With time to spare, Ann,” he replied. “It really didn’t take that long. I have a couple of bags of groceries and a new computer in the car.”

“Sir, would you be so kind as to bring in the groceries? There are some things I will need for our breakfast. The computer might as well stay there for a while since we are not ready for it.”

“Sure, not a problem. The car is in the garage so the computer isn’t going to walk away. How long before we’re going to be setting it up?”

“Possibly during the day tomorrow, sir. I suspect much of the setup work can be done while Mr. Taylor and I are sleeping. That will give us this evening to finish getting the room for your new office ready. I cleaned it while you were sleeping earlier, but I didn’t want to run the vacuum for fear of waking you.”

“That was thoughtful of you, Ann.”

“Sir, I suspect there’s going to be some learning on both our parts if we’re going to be on somewhat different schedules, but I think if we all show some consideration for each other it can be done with a minimum of difficulties. Mr. Taylor is not up yet but I shall have to wake him shortly. Would you be offended if I were to serve you breakfast again, instead of a dinner meal?”

“It’s no problem for me, Ann. I’m used to eating whatever is in the box I grab out of the freezer. The worst you could possibly do for breakfast is better than that.”

“I’m glad you think so, sir,” she smiled mildly, not showing her teeth in the process – something Steve had become used to. “Since you will be up for a while yet, would you be interested in some coffee?”

“Certainly, Ann. I’ll go out and get the groceries, and I’ll haul the computer up to my room just to get something done myself while you’re dealing with breakfast.”

“That would be excellent, sir.”

Steve had just finished stacking the boxes of computer components in his room when Ann called him to eat. As always, breakfast was in the dining room – waffles and bacon this time – and they had a pleasant conversation about nothing in particular. However, once they were past the meal and some after-dinner coffee Uncle Homer said, “Steve, did you get a chance to talk to your friend Crocker?”

“I did,” Steve replied, and gave a brief summary of the discussion. “In short, I think it would be a good bet for someone, so long as they kept themselves covered a little bit. By that, I mean Phil would have to have the parts contracts in his hands before he got the money. That doesn’t necessarily mean immediate delivery, and he could write the contracts stipulating that financing is pending. It might also be possible to have a lien on the machinery, but that wouldn’t be enough collateral to cover the deal.”

“But you think he can make a go of it?”

“Let’s say I’m pretty sure he can, assuming there are no major unforeseen difficulties. The thing is, I know Phil and I trust him. A banker may not know him and is just going to look at the superficialities, like how RELI got taken down. So they wouldn’t have the same reason to trust him.”

“There’s no huge rush on this, is there? I mean, there’s nothing that would hurt if we spent a day or two to think about it, and maybe do some planning on how to handle it?”

“Nothing in the very short term,” Steve replied, “but we can’t sit on it forever, either. It’s going to take him time to get everything together if he’s going to be ready to go when those contracts expire, and we probably ought to give him as much as possible.”

“All right, a big question. Do you want to be seen as the one who’s loaning him the money, or do you just want to appear to be the facilitator?”

“I haven’t thought about it in that way so I can’t give you an answer. Just off the top of my head, it might be better if he just thought I was setting things up. It may work out that I’ll have to put some time into helping him get things running, especially in terms of quality control. That could make the difference between this being a success or a failure.”

“You’re probably correct in wanting to be a facilitator, but let me think about it for a day or so. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow. Ann, how are you coming on getting Steve’s office set up?”

“It’s a long way from done, sir,” she replied smartly, “but it’s just work. I found that roll-top desk we were speaking of and some other furniture that may be useful on the third floor. How about if I ask the Dozier brothers to come over and move the desk down the stairs? If we’re going to do it tonight I really ought to call them soon.”

“If it’s the same desk I remember from, oh, twenty years ago, it may even be a little too much for Bob and Ray, so there’s no way you and Steve could handle it.” Uncle Homer turned to Steve and explained, “Bob and Ray Dozier do most of the landscaping and outside maintenance around here and occasionally move heavy objects for us, along with other chores. They aren’t exactly the sharpest pencils in the box, but they do good work for what they can do. Ann or I will have to explain to them that you’re going to be helping us out for a while so they don’t get suspicious. We sort of have them trained to notice people snooping around who shouldn’t be here, but you should know who they are, too.”

“Ann said you had someone do the yard work,” Steve replied, “but she didn’t say any more than that.”

“Might as well get it out of the way,” Uncle Homer shrugged. “Ann, go ahead and give them a call. We might as well get it over with.”

Half an hour later a battered old pickup truck pulled into the driveway, and a couple of men got out; they were in their fifties, Steve guessed, and just from the look of them they didn’t appear real bright. The sun was now low enough that Ann didn’t appear to mind being outside to greet them, although she wore her sunglasses. “You said you needed somethin’ moved, Miss Ann?” one of them asked.

“Yes, Bob,” she replied. She introduced Steve to them and explained that there was a desk and some other items on the third floor that needed to be moved down to the second floor.

“Might’s well do it, then,” Bob replied. Ray didn’t say anything as Ann led the three of them through the house, and up to the third floor, where Steve had never been.

Once he got up there, he realized that no one went up there very often – Ann had said something about dust and cobwebs up there, and even the hall was full of them. “You don’t get up here very often, do you?” Steve asked Ann.

“Rarely, sir,” she said. “I’ll come up here, and even into the attic once or twice a year after heavy storms to check for leaks, but I have never found any. That’s a slate roof, and it just doesn’t leak. Looking for office furniture is one of the rare occasions I’ve been up here in years except for that. There really isn’t a great deal in the rooms except some odds and ends. There are some cots and dressers that were probably left over from the Sons of the Father. There are rooms here that I haven’t even looked in for years. Even when he was more active Mr. Taylor never had much reason to come up here.”

They soon found the room with the desk, and it was as advertised – a huge oak roll-top piece of furniture, easily a hundred years old and possibly half that again, incredibly dusty and covered with cobwebs. Steve was glad he didn’t have to be the one to move it because it looked like it was awful heavy, and he would have gotten dirty as hell in the process. But the brothers picked it up with ease and hauled it down the stairs, leaving it in the hall near Steve’s room.

The rest of the furniture was simpler – an antique swivel chair on casters, a large table about the right height for a computer desk, and a couple of odds and ends. All in all, the project couldn’t have taken ten minutes.

“Thanks, Bob, Ray,” Ann said as they finished. “I hated to take you away from your TV, but this needed to get done.”

“That’s all right, ma’am,” Bob said. “We know you don’t do much durin’ the day.”

“Still, it’s appreciated,” she said, handing them a couple of twenties. “You take care, now, and thanks for the good work.”

The pickup soon rattled down the driveway, and Ann turned to Steve. “We might as well get some rags and a bucket, sir,” she said as primly as usual.

“You know where they are, Ann,” he replied. “Just tell me what to do.”

“I shall meet you upstairs, sir,” she replied. “We’re going to be a while getting that desk cleaned up.”

Steve started up the stairs and, only as he looked at the desk and contemplated the work to be done, did a couple of strange things strike him: Ray had never said a word; Bob did all the talking. On top of that, Ann was more casual with the two of them than she had ever been with him. Now that he thought about it, she’d never used the term ‘sir’ once with them. Did that mean something? Or nothing?

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