Park the Buick in Doc's garage early because my first meeting is at nine. I've been away from work for one day shy of two weeks. In case I need to, I arrive early for work.

So far, the day sucks. Maybe it's from talking to the therapist yesterday but for some reason, my shoulder hurts like hell today. Sara and I jogged a little and stretched this morning. The shoulder didn't begin bothering me until after my shower.

On my way to the door that leads to the skywalk across the Row, I pass a tall, skinny guy in a white shirt and tie. He is trying and failing to remove the grill on a big `66 Dodge van.

"What's the problem?" I ask.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I didn't notice you walking up."

Stand there looking at him, waiting.

He waves his hand at the Dodge van, and says, "Oh this? Got a short somewhere. My headlights are so dim I can't see to drive in the dark. Pretty soon, I won't be able to drive to or from work."

From where I'm standing I can see that the screw holding the ground wire is loose. "Give me the Phillips screwdriver." When he hands it over, I tell him, "Go turn on the headlights."

"You think you can fix it by. . . ."

"I'll wait `til you get back."

He walks around and pulls the switch. The headlights are so dim they produce only a yellowish-brown light that does not illuminate at all. He walks back around and stands with his hands on his hips, watching.

"See this wire connected to this screw? That's the ground connection." Tighten the screw and the headlights shine brightly, illuminating the garage.

"Wow! How did you know that?"

Hand him the screwdriver. "Tonight, take it out and clean the rust off the screw, the connector and around the screw hole. Put it back together and it'll be fine. Then you can replace your grill."

Begin to walk away but he calls out, "Wait! What's your name?"

Pausing, I look at him. "Jill Price."

"Tyrone Presnell," he says, holding out his hand.

Take his hand and give it a squeeze, which lights up the pain in my shoulder blade. Releasing his hand, I turn and walk toward the door.

"Thank you, Jill," he calls.

Wave with my left and continue walking. Inside, I take the elevator up. The door to the executive hallway is locked. See a light in Personnel so I rap on the window with a knuckle.

George comes out of his office and waves, hurrying to let me in. "Welcome back, Jill. How are you feeling?"

"Ask me in a month. When do Louise and Peter get in this morning, George?"

"They're in Louise' office, Jill. They arrived at eight."

"How about Liz and her team?"

"Setting up the video equipment in the executive conference room."

"Thanks George, see you later." Walk to my office and flip on the light. The bluelines for the first issue of Doc's Talks are on my desk. Two boxes of my new business cards and a stack of message forms too. Stuff the messages into the trash, pull out a few business cards—Jill Price, Communications Manager—and stuff them in my jacket pocket, pick up the bluelines and walk up the hall to the conference room. Sure enough, Liz and the kids are in there, checking the sound pickup on the microphones. "Hey," I say.

A chorus of greetings as they approach for hugs.

Hold up my left hand. "Touch me and I'll knock you on your ass. You ready?"

"Nice to see you too. Yeah, we're ready," says Liz.

"We're putting Morty and his team at this end and all of us observers at that end. We each have separate components we're observing for the de-briefing after the meeting."

"Are you going to participate?" asks Samantha.

"Hell no. I'd like a copy of the script though."

"Right here," says Liz, sliding the copy across the table.

"Thank you." Sit down and begin scanning it.

Thomas walks around the table and looms over me. "Uh, Jill?"

Look up at him.

"How are you doing?" he asks with a big smile.

"Get back to work," I tell him, "or get the hell out of here."

He looks at me, appearing hurt and confused, then turns and walks over to stand near Samantha.

See Liz smirking but I ignore her. Continuing to scan, I see that Liz and her two assistants did a good job of organizing the script from my outline. When I look up a short time later, I catch Liz's eye and nod.

She smiles, obviously pleased. When Louise and Peter walk in, Liz greets them. She directs them to chairs on either side of me. Peter and I exchange greetings.

Louise sits on my left and touches my arm in greeting. "Welcome back, Jill. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. It's good to see you, Louise. Any questions before Morty and his people get here?"

"Does anyone else need to be here?"

"The opposite, Louise."

"Okay. Peter and I discussed it but he said you would decide."

"Nothing to decide," I tell her. In my peripheral vision, I see Peter nod slightly. "All the execs and managers will face this team eventually," I add.

The door opens and in walks Morty, Mario Corto and three other men who manage slot operations on all shifts. They chatter about a group of patrons. Kelly follows a few seconds later. Liz has already briefed them on ignoring us as observers. They take seats as Morty keeps the banter going.

Just then, in walks Kerry and a distinguished-looking, bearded man'probably Phil Garrett, President of Doc's Place. They smile and look for seats.

Stand and say, "Hello Kerry. This meeting is to train my team. You do not need to attend."

"Well hello, Jill. It's nice to see you too. How are you feeling?" asks Kerry, pulling a chair back from the table. The man I assume is Phil does likewise.

"Kerry, you'll see this team in action soon enough," I tell him. "I'd appreciate it if you two guys would leave."

He stands beside the chair and glances at Peter, who is busy reading the script. Looking at me once more, Kerry says, "You know as well as I do that Phil can attend any meeting he wants and you also know Morty works for me."

"Phil, I'm glad to meet you. This team will evaluate your ability to conduct a meeting. I do not want you to know what they do until then. I'd like you and Kerry to leave." Look at them, and add, "Please."

Phil looks at Peter, and asks, "Peter?"

Peter looks up as if he's just noticed Phil for the first time. "Hello, Phil. Didn't Louise discuss this with you? She told me she did."

"Yes, but. . . ."

"There you go," says Peter with a smile. "I'll see you at lunch, Phil."

Phil glances at me.

"Thank you, gentlemen," I say as I watch them leave. Slowly, I sit down. Now my leg is beginning to throb too. Nod at Morty.

After the meeting, Morty dismisses Kelly and his staff. Liz and the kids run through the script and the videotape with him, taking the time to explain everything thoroughly. Morty seems pleased with himself and with the project. He tells us it is worthwhile.

Once Morty leaves, I compliment Liz and her assistants. We analyze the progress of the evaluation, discussing each detail. After that, I ask them to review. By the time we finish, they tell me they understand exactly what to do in preparation for the dress rehearsal with Dick Scope and his staff meeting next week. They gather up the video equipment and leave for Liz's office to talk some more. When I turn my attention to Peter and Louise, my shoulder is a raging inferno and my leg aches as if someone broke off a drill bit in there.

Louise looks down at the buttons on her suit, probably waiting for Peter to speak.

"I'm impressed," says Peter. "The way Liz and her team walked Morty through that videotape was as simple and clear as any evaluation and instruction I've ever seen. This program will provide the executives and managers at Doc's Place with a significant competitive edge. Please accept my compliments to you, Liz and her team, Jill."

Louise jumps in with her two cents. "I agree with Peter, Jill. You've done one hell of a job, especially considering what you've been through during the past two weeks."

"Thank you both on behalf of Liz and her team who did most of the work. It went as well as we had expected. Do we have authorization to proceed on schedule?"

Peter nods. "Absolutely. I assume you'll send out an announcement to the executives and managers soon?"

"Next week," I tell him.

"Then Louise, Phil and I will give you brief, supporting statements to include with the announcement. I want everyone to know that Phil and I weigh in one hundred percent behind this program."

"That will be helpful, Peter. Thank you." For a moment, I look at them because I can't remember what happens next.

Louise prompts me with, "Were you going to show us how your first issue of the magazine is progressing, Jill?"

"Right, here you go." Pick up the blueline showing the first issue's layout and set it on the table in front of Louise. That hurts enough that I don't want to move again so I stand and walk to the window to look outside. Feel my organism on the verge of panic, knowing I can't make it through a full day of work. Take deep, even breaths and focus on two fat women across the Row. One is pushing a baby stroller as they walk away, carrying on an animated conversation. They turn north on Virginia Street.

The hawk's sharply focused view of a flat, valley floor moving below. See tiny movements here and there in the grass or beneath sagebrush.

"Well, I must say," says Peter a few minutes later, "I never thought that reading about restoring nickelodeons would make me proud to be an American, proud to be associated with Doc's Place and smart enough to understand how historical these pieces are, all at the same time. I've read the opening article twice, and I'm still not sure how you pulled it off, Jill. The cover photo of Sam using the tuning fork is fascinating—all those parts. People will study this photo—all the photos—repeatedly. The way you have woven in the Ferro support is just right. Oh, the stockholders and collectors out there will love this."

Louise jumps in with, "And that back cover shot with the little girl and boy staring at the giant nickelodeon as they listen. See their faces? As if they're having a religious experience. I have tears looking at it."

"Did you see the caption on the inside back cover, Louise?" Peter asks. "Look. Their folks brought them here from Pennsylvania on the way back from visiting their grandparents in San Francisco, just so they could bring their kids to Doc's Place to put a nickel in the nickelodeon and hear it play."

"The detail in these photos is astounding. I can't wait to see the real thing," says Louise. "We'd better print plenty of extras of this issue. People are going to clamor for copies."

Peter says to Louise, "Would you give Jill and me a moment, Louise? I'll stop by your office in a few minutes. Thank you." Peter is standing next to me now. "Jill, the message you have conveyed in this issue is at once subtle and obvious. Ferro has invested in Doc's Place as a site of Americana. Ferro intends to keep it going forever. If you do no other thing, you have delivered on your promise. Thank you."

The hawk found a quivering rabbit hiding beside a clump of grass. I'd rather stay with the hawk, but I return to pain, which is diminished, but still gnawing and grinding. "Thank you Peter," I say softly. "This will only whet their appetites for more and better."

He looks at me for a moment. "You already know how you're going to top this, don't you?" When I turn my head to look up into his eyes, he says, "Amazing. What are you doing here?"

"I'm working for a living, Peter. Just as you are, I suspect."

"Please," he says. When I say nothing further, he says, "Well, you certainly have no reason to discuss your personal motivations with me. Do what you want here through the term of our agreement to accomplish our agreed objectives. Ignore obstacles and distractions. I will disembowel anyone who attempts to stop you or slow you down in achieving those objectives. Okay?"

"Okay, Peter."

He looks at me for another moment, turns and walks out the door, leaving it open behind him.

Find the hawk perched on a dead tree limb, tearing gobbets of meat off the rabbit carcass. The meat is tasty. The hunting domain is secure. The hawk's satisfaction, of living in this moment, is total.

Walk back to my office, pick up the phone and call Ron. Hold the receiver to my ear with my left hand, which is awkward. Karen answers, so I tell her to deliver the layouts to the printer as is. She says she'll deliver them this afternoon.

Call the Aces and talk to Penny. Tell her to start shooting Sam's museum preparations, especially the firearms, next week. She tells me they can start shooting Tuesday morning. Ask her if they want some guidance from me on cover shots, but she declines. "We know what you want. If we want help, we'll call."

Call the Galeti Way warehouse to tell Sam Bowles that the Aces will be out Tuesday.

"That's fine," says Sam. "Having Tom and Penny out there doesn't bother me at all. Once I know what they're doing, I just ignore them and keep working."

Liz pokes her head in to say, "The kids and I are gonna pick up a burger. You in?"

"Sure, if you're drivin'."

"Let's go."

We walk out to the Personnel foyer where Samantha and Thomas are waiting. Animated, Liz and the kids chatter as we walk out to her battered Mercedes, telling me about their preparations for the dress rehearsal in Dick Scope's meeting next week.

"When?" I ask.

"Wednesday at ten in the exec conference room," says Liz. "Are you coming, Jill?"

"Yes. How about scheduling the execs and managers, and sending out the announcements?"

"Louise told me to use the Personnel staff. Is that okay with you, Jill?"

"Sure."

"And who is writing the announcement?" asks Liz.

"I am," I tell her from the back seat where I'm sitting with Thomas. Liz is driving and Samantha is sitting in the front passenger seat. "When do you need it?"

"How about tomorrow? That way, we can have the announcement and schedule on everyone's desk or mail slot Monday morning."

"Who has mail slots?"

"Casino and other shift floor managers," says Liz as we pull into the parking lot of a burger shop near the university.

As Liz and Samantha are piling out in front, I pull the door handle.

Thomas touches my left shoulder.

Look at his hand and then at him. He removes his hand. "Jill," he says, "Why haven't you called me? Why are you so cold?"

Look at his pleading face and realize he is beautiful. He is not used to a woman, any woman, ignoring him. "I haven't called you because I haven't thought about you, Thomas but even if I did, I wouldn't call. I'm ignoring you. Okay?"

He looks down, and then suddenly reaches for me. By then, I'm gone. Liz, Samantha and I are halfway through the parking lot when Samantha turns to call out, "Thomas! Are you coming?" Turning to us, she says, "Honestly, he is such a baby. He's probably sulking over your ignoring him, Jill."

Liz laughs. "Well, he's an adult, right? Come on, ladies."

Inside, a tall, athletic brunette is standing at the bar with three other girls, laughing and talking. Her eyes catch mine immediately.

"Burger with everything, no cheese, no fries," I murmur to Samantha, and walk over to the tall, slim beauty. "Hello," I say to her.

"Hi," she says. "I've never seen you in here."

"My first time. Jill Price," I say, extending my hand.

She takes it. "Heather Sorenson, Jill. Nice to meet you."

"Want to get together tomorrow evening? Pick you up here at seven."

She raises her eyebrows, glances around and says, "Okay, Jill. Sure."

"I have a friend. Got a friend who'd like to join us?"

"Is your friend as forward as you?" asks a black-haired beauty standing beside me.

Smiling, I say, "She will change your life."

She laughs. "Who can resist that? Jenny Polito. Count me in."

One of the other two—she has a spread-out look, like she had a kid maybe—says, "Hey, what about us? Let's make it a party."

Look at her and say, "No, but thank you for the offer." Turning away to look at the first two, I say, "Heather, Jenny, see you tomorrow evening."

Mommy asks loudly, "Why not?"

"Not interested," I tell her, standing still and looking into her eyes.

She looks me up and down and asks, "In who? Me?"

"Either of you," I say.

"The four of us are a group," she says. "Not polite at all to invite only two of us."

"I won't invite either of you regardless of what you say," I tell her softly.

"It's very impolite," says Mommy. When I do not respond, Mommy turns and asks, "Gonna let her get away with this, Heather?"

"Oh yeah," says Heather. "I'm going with Jill for sure."

"Me too," says Jenny. "See you tomorrow, Jill. Bring your friend."

Smiling at Heather and Jenny, I turn and walk to the booth. I can hear Mommy beginning to lobby Jenny against meeting me.

"That was quick," says Samantha as I scoot in beside her. "You get a date?"

"Tomorrow night," I tell them. Thomas is sitting beside Liz, facing me. "Thomas, finished sulking yet?" Catch his hand before it leaves the table. "Calm down, boy," I tell him. "I might have Liz here sit on you. She handles my light work."

"What's the matter, Thomas?" asks Liz. "You know there are other fish in the sea."

"Fish is right," he says, "and a cold fish at that."

We laugh briefly at that one. "Ooh, good one, Thomas," says Samantha. "Next step in the process is realization. At this rate, you'll be fully recovered by the time we finish lunch."

He smiles despite himself. "Bunch o' bitches," he mutters.

We laugh again. Pat his hand. "See? You're over it already." Notice that Heather has not taken her eyes off me. Jenny keeps glancing over as well.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License