Find a bird's nest that has fallen from a tree so I bite open the shells and lick up the contents. After drinking my fill of water, I mark the territory around the den and crawl back inside to sleep with the others.

Wake up feeling good. Try to move, which hurts which in turn pisses me off. Grow even angrier as I struggle into the bathroom with Soji's help. By the time we begin my therapy, I'm ready to chew nails and shit bullets.

Attack my therapy with controlled fury. After Soji and I shower together so he can hold me up, we eat with Lloyd. Back to bed where I fall asleep for two solid hours and awake refreshed.

A pair of crutches is beside my bed. I roll to a sitting position, pull myself up using one of the crutches and, Colt M1911A1 in hand, make my way to the bathroom. Soji has placed one aluminum frame around the toilet and another in the shower. It's a struggle but I can use the toilet by myself. Wash up as I lean on a crutch and when I'm ready, I can shower without help. All of this makes me happy indeed.

Back to my bedroom, I struggle into underpants, a pair of sweatpants with the legs cut off just above the knees, a baggy tee shirt and a zip-up-the-front sweat top. Dressing requires focus and energy but I can do it.

Lloyd and I move into the study where I occupy one office chair and she occupies another. Realizing that I want to prop my leg, I struggle back to my feet and fetch a towel as Lloyd ignores me. Flip the empty trashcan upside-down, fold the towel on it and—with a sigh—rest my ankle.

Walk Lloyd through both plans, which she outlines and sets aside. After I answer a couple of pointed questions from her regarding schedule and budget, we begin outlining the exec communications plan in detail. Answer her questions as she writes.

We work steadily for more than two hours as Lloyd guzzles coffee like I drink water. We take a pee break before eleven and just sit down again when the phone rings.

Push the headphones on my head and connect. "Yeah."

"Jill, Tom. I'm here with Sam and Charlie, shooting nickelodeon guts. I've seen the operational nickelodeon in the restaurant entryway. I want to move that one away from the wall and crawl inside tomorrow so you'll have some before and after shots. Can you arrange that?"

"How long will it take?"

"Two hours, tops."

"I'll call you back. Have you seen other stuff to shoot out there?"

"Tons. This is Americana gathering dust in a warehouse. History and antique buffs will love these photos when you get them published. Haul your ass out here and check it out."

"Maybe later, Tom. I'll call back." Disconnect and call Kelly.

"Hey Jill," she says.

"Kelly, tomorrow morning Sam and Charlie are going to move the nickelodeon away from the wall for the photographer. They'll finish in two hours, tops. Who authorizes that?"

"Probably Kerry," says Kelly. "Hang on and I'll put you through, Jill."

Soji appears in the doorway, watching me.

Explain what I need to Kerry. He agrees without hesitation, suggesting nine to eleven and offers to have Kelly notify everyone. Thank him and I'm about to disconnect when he asks, "Jill, you live out at Baron Ranch, right?"

"Yes."

"I called the Los Angeles office and got a recording. Left my name and got some literature through the mail, but I have yet to talk with a human being. Carlos says he got in after a two-year wait. How did you get in there?"

It helps to be the money behind the money behind the developer, Kerry. "I put my name in with the sales office two years ago," I tell him.

"Some sales office," he says. "They work by appointment only and mine's six months away. Do you know why they're taking so long to develop it?"

"I know that the crews building these homes are European craftsmen. The landscaping crews are from Japan."

"Why do you think I've been trying to get in there? More money doesn't make a difference. I already found that out. Do you know who the money is behind that development, Jill?"

"I've never asked," I tell him. "I did everything sight unseen through the mail and over the phone from Salt Lake City, Kerry. Took over a year, but when I arrived in mid-September, I picked up the key at security and walked in."

"Who handled financing, escrow and so on?"

"Paid cash," I say.

"Jesus, that must be nice."

"Inheritance," I say, which is only a partial lie, "My grandparents left me land. Sold it and bought this place."

"How big is your lot?"

"I just own the house. Pay a monthly fee for maintenance of the grounds and facilities, but I don't own the land."

"Is it nice?"

"Nicest house I've ever seen."

"I'd like to see it."

"Come on out. I'll leave a message with security that you're coming."

Soji holds up one finger, raising his eyebrows.

"Now? Are you serious? May I bring my wife?"

"Sure." Hold up two fingers to Soji and Lloyd.

"How about Max and his wife? He has his name in too."

Lift two more fingers. "Great. You want lunch?"

Soji's eyes get big.

"Oh no. We don't want to be any trouble."

"No trouble. I have friends staying with me to help. They'll have lunch ready when you get here."

"This is very generous of you, Jill."

"See you soon," I tell him and disconnect.

"Four for lunch?" asks Soji, still standing in the doorway.

"Kerry and Max are executives at Doc's Place, Soji. Bringing their wives."

"China with cloth napkins from Carter's?"

"Yup. Thanks, Soji."

"What's Carter's?" asks Lloyd as Soji leaves.

"Upscale restaurant and catering business a few blocks from here," I reply. "They have a little sign in the catering shop: `Enjoy our food and service but please don't ask us to hurry.'"

"Sounds like they'll make an exception for you, Jill," says Lloyd.

"Millie Carter's a friend," I say. Millie Carter and her husband are buying out my share of their business.

Call the Galeti warehouse and tell Sam that Kerry approved the shoot for tomorrow. He informs me that I've pissed off Paul somehow but he's not getting in the middle of that. Disconnect and set the headphones aside.

Lloyd watches me work my way to my feet and then slowly toward my bedroom. "I'll tell Soji to wake you when security calls," she says.

"Thanks," I tell her. Beside my bed, I pull off my clothes and ease my way under the covers. One second later, Lloyd is holding my foot. Open my eyes and look at her.

"Sorry to wake you, Jill," she says. "Security is bringing them up now. We put the tabletop and linen on a plywood sheet on the pool table. The food is all set out."

"Thanks, Lloyd." Must have fallen asleep immediately but I feel refreshed now. Work my way to my feet, grab undies from a dresser drawer and then move toward the bathroom as Lloyd watches me. Pausing, I say, "Thought you were going to have Soji wake me."

"Soji told me to wake you," says Lloyd.

"Okay," I say with a shrug but no wince, which requires an act of will.

When I come out, Lloyd stands from straightening out the bed as she says, "I understand the bandages are for the bullet wounds, Jill, but where did all those scars, bruises and welts come from? And you eat like a damn horse, yet I can see every muscle and sinew under your skin. Why are you so thin?"

Move into the closet, pull on a sleeveless shift and give my hair a shake. "The scars are from old injuries and the bruises are from my workouts at the dojo, but thin? Who knows?" Slip an arm around her waist. "Speaking of eating, let's go, Lloyd. I'm starving."

Soji admits them at the front door and they introduce themselves. Max is a big, athletic, friendly guy with a beard and dark, curly hair. His wife is a beautiful, slim blonde. Kerry is tall, thin and wears big, sliver-frame glasses. Kerry's wife is serious and quiet like he is.

After introducing them to Lloyd and Soji, then shaking their hands with my left, I guide them into the grand room, where they gawk and exclaim at the size of the rooms, built-in cabinetry and windows. The women say they love the sunroom with its variety of plants, informal dining area and hot tub. They ask me about the plants but all I can say is that the groundskeepers tend them. The kitchen takes some time because of the beauty of the woodwork. The wood, glass and marble work of the spacious tubs and showers in the bathrooms receive careful inspection.

The women adore the huge closets and storage spaces, the grand scale of the rooms and windows, fireplaces in the bedrooms and the double doors. Kerry and Max love the big, warm garage with its tile floor, finished walls and cabinetry. They ogle the '53 Chevy step side pickup and the '63 T-bird convertible but ignore the Buick. I show them the shop in back for dirty work. There I keep the solvent tanks, compressor, welding rigs and so on for stripping down engines and parts from junkyards.

"Who works out here?" asks Kerry's wife.

"I do."

"Now I see why you haven't decorated," says Max's wife. Can't remember her name. "The only rooms that are really lived in are this shop, your garage and your study."

"True, and the sunroom," I say, unsure if she wants a comment from me.

"What's back there?" asks Kerry, pointing at two double doors, one at each end of the shop's rear wall.

"Storage. Go ahead. Parts on the right and toys on the left."

"Okay," says Max once he turns on the light and steps inside the parts storage room. "I knew some house mass was unaccounted for. Jesus, look at the engines and transmissions on these cherry pickers, Kerry. They look perfectly restored."

"One for the Chevy and one for the T-bird," I tell him.

"You don't have a spare engine or two for the dark blue car?" asks Kerry's wife, raising her eyebrows at Max's wife. They exchange a smile. Okay, I get it, ladies. You're laughing at me.

"Nope. Got a spare dark blue car."

She rolls her eyes and looks away.

"Is this 390 stock?" asks Kerry, inspecting the Ford V-8.

"Yup. The Holley four-barrel is stock on the Sports Roadster. See the M engine code?" When Kerry peers closely and nods, I add, "Ford increased the compression ratio from 9.6:1 to 10.8:1 with dual exhaust on the Z-code and M-code engines."

"Why are some of these wheels and things so clean and others so dirty?" asks one of the wives, looking at an axle on a stand.

"I comb junkyards for parts, then clean and repair `em when I get a chance."

Max looks at the ceiling and whispers, "Ah, I see. You have a traveling block and tackle rigged up on suspended rails."

"Right. That's it hanging over the tranny in the corner. Put it in a couple weekends ago with a buddy. Makes working on heavy stuff easy."

"A buddy from a junkyard?" asks Max's wife.

"Mm-hmm."

We move back out to the shop and to the other double doors. Kerry flicks on the light, and whispers, "Holy shit."

"You use all this stuff, Jill?" asks Max.

"From time to time, yes. I haven't climbed rock for a couple years but I still run the rivers, ski and so on."

"My god, Price," says Max, "you're a total freakin' jock!"

"For heaven's sake, Max," says his wife. "At least you don't have hunting rifles, Jill."

"Afraid I do, ma'am. Locked up in that safe you saw in my bedroom closet."

"I'm surprised you don't have trophy heads on the wall," says Max' wife.

Picture the heads of Alon Guccione and his crew hanging on the wall and decide that Bruno the detective and Tony the federal agent would probably disapprove. "Not my thing," is all I say in reply to her comment.

"Excuse me," says Lloyd, appearing in the doorway. "Lunch is ready if you'd like to come inside, everyone."

Kerry and Max fall in either side of me as we follow their wives through the shop and garage toward the living room. "How's the recovery going, Jill?" asks Kerry.

"Pretty well, considering I caught two rounds four days ago. I'm not used to this invalid shit. Be glad when I can run again."

"Are you doing therapy?" asks Max.

"Yeah, Soji helps me there. Has me pushin' the envelope already. It's true about loving and hating your physical therapist."

"Sounds like you're staying on schedule with your plans at Doc's," says Kerry.

"Thanks to help from a lot of people. And thanks again, Kerry for helping to arrange the nickelodeon shoot tomorrow."

"Glad to help," says Kerry. "You should know that you really pissed off Paul and Phil by going to Peter over Sam's time, Jill."

"Wish I had more mobility and time to do this face to face but I can't right now. Well, they'll get over it or they won't, right?"

"And what did you do to Dick Scope, Jill?" asks Max, chuckling. "Jesus, he hates your guts."

"Told him to approve the budgets on my plans or I'd kick his ass."

Both men laugh. "I believe it," says Kerry. "He hates you but he's scared of you."

"Shit, you scare me, Price," says Max.

Our guests exclaim over the beautiful lunch setting and then rave at how delicious everything is. They want to know about Soji and Lloyd. Soji tells them he's an old friend and Lloyd tells them we served on the same military base in Japan together over ten years ago. We spend the rest of the time talking about Baron Ranch.

"They keep the houses all single-story so you don't see your neighbor's houses except from the street," I tell them. "Must be pretty strict covenants, codes and restrictions," says Max's wife. I still can't remember either wife's name.

"Absolutely. Guests park at the entrance and ride in on the electric carts so no visible cars are on the streets. The landscaping hides the houses from one another. The craftsmen do all the landscaping, renovation work and so on."

"I like that," says Max. "No junky cars or junky yards with half-finished projects lying around for weeks and months."

"So who designed your house and its interior, Jill?" asks Kerry's wife.

"I met with an architect and some craftsmen over the phone one morning. It took a couple hours to get everything the way I wanted it. It was good to finally see it after they sent me the final plans because the drawings looked just as I had imagined."

"Didn't somebody try to sue Baron Ranch for something?" asks Max's wife.

"Yeah, a local lawyer with a Spanish surname sued for faster entrance, claiming racial discrimination. The suit died on discovery. It came out that one black couple and two Hispanic families already live here."

"One of them is Carlos Esteban, Security Manager at Doc's," says Kerry. "I found out you live here because he told me."

"Good guy, Carlos."

"You stomped all over him at racquetball," says Max.

"Wasn't fair. I'm sponsored and I've toured."

"Uh-oh," says Max, looking at Kerry. "She's semi-pro. Watch out, Kerry." He turns to me. "Kerry won the state invitational championships two years running down in Las Vegas. He's looking forward to getting his butt kicked by you."

"Maybe in a couple months, Kerry," I tell him with a grin. "Meanwhile, we can sit back and let the suckers take odds."

He and Max laugh heartily at that one but the wives stand up, saying it's time to go. Work my way to the door to see them off. Once they're gone, Lloyd tells me that at least I hit it off with the guys.

"I think the only reason they were friendly was to see the house," I tell her. "I like both those guys but I don't trust `em."

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