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"Just fine! The dentist says I'm going to get a new tooth, but the Tooth Fairy left me a whole dollar for
my old one!"
"Just between us, the Tooth Fairy's going bust," Bob said in a lowered voice.
"Can I see your gun, Uncle Lang, huh?" Mikey persisted.
The security guard lifted both eyebrows. Lang could have groaned out loud as the man approached.
He'd been through the routine so often that he just put Mikey down and opened his jacket without
being asked to.
The security man cocked his head. "Nice shirt, or are you showing off your muscles?"
"I'm showing you that I don't have a gun," Lang muttered.
"Oh, that. No, I wasn't looking for a gun.You're Lang Patton?"
Lang blinked. "Yes."
"Nobody else here fits the description," the man added sheepishly. "Well, there's a Mrs. Patton on the
phone who asks that you stop by the auto parts place and pick her up a new carburetor for a '65 Ford
Mustang, please."
"No, he will not," Bob muttered. "I told her she can't do that overhaul, but she won't listen. She's going
to prove me wrong or. ..cowardly woman, to sucker you into it," he added indignantly to Lang, who
was grinning from ear to ear.
"His wife my sister-in-law is a whiz with engines," Lang told the security man. "She can fix
anything on wheels. But he " he jerked his thumb at an outraged Bob " doesn't think it's ladylike."
"What century is he living in?" the security man asked. "Gee, my wife keeps our washing machine
fixed. Saves us a fortune in repair bills. Nothing like a wife who's handy with equipment. You should
count your blessings," he added to Bob. "Do you know what a mechanic charges?"
"Yes, I know what a mechanic charges, I'm married to one," Bob said darkly. "She owns her own
repair shop, and she doesn't care that I don't like her covered in grease and smelling of burned rubber.
All I am these days is a glorified baby-sitter."
Lang knew why Bob was upset. He and his brother had spent their childhood playing second fiddle to
their mother's job. "You know Connie loves you," he said, trying to pacify Bob. "Besides, you're a
career man yourself, and a terrific surveyor," Lang argued when the security man was called away to
a passenger in distress. "Mikev will take after you one day. Won't you, Mikey?" he asked the child.
"Not me. I want to be a grease monkey, just like my mommy!"
Bob threw up his hands and walked away, leaving Lang and Mikey to catch up.
The Pattons lived in Floresville, a pleasant little ride down from San Antonio, past rolling land
occupied by grazing cattle and oil pumping stations. This part of Texas was still rural, and Lang
remembered happy times as a boy when he and Bob visited their uncle's ranch and got to ride horses
with the cowboys. Things at home were less pleasant.
"Time passes so quickly," Lang remarked.
"You have no idea," Bob replied. He glanced at Lang. "I saw Kirry downtown the other day."
Lang's heart jumped. He hadn't expected to hear her name mentioned. In five years, he'd done his best
to forget her. The memories were sudden and acute, Kirry with her long wavy blond hair blowing in
the breeze, her green eyes wide and bright with laughter and love. There were other memories, not so
pleasant, of Kirry crying her eyes out and begging a recalcitrant Lang to listen. But he wouldn't. He'd
caught her in a state of undress with his best friend and, in a jealous rage, he'd believed the worst. It
had taken six months for him to find out that his good friend had set Kirry up because he wanted her
for himself.
"I tried to apologize once," Lang said without elaborating, because Bob knew the whole story.
"She won't talk about you to this day," was the quiet reply. Bob turned into the side street that led to the
Patton house. "She's very polite when you're mentioned, but she always changes the subject."
"She went away to college before I left," Lang reminded him.
"Yes, and graduated early, with honors. She's vice president of a top public relations firm in San
Antonio. She makes very good money, and she travels a lot."
"Does she still come home?" Lang asked.
Bob shook his head. "She avoids Floresville like the plague. She can afford to since her mother sold
the old homestead." His eyes shifted to Lang "You must have hurt her a lot."
Lang smiled with self-contempt. "You have no idea how much."
"It was right after that when you were accepted for the CIA."
"I'd applied six months before," he reminded Bob. "It wasn't a sudden decision."
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