Through an open door, a radio carried news about the final preparations underway for the Summit Conference. The only piece of the picture that did not...fit was a red Geo misaligned against the curb, its windows rolled down. The right front wheel had scraped against the old pink sandstone curb. The sound of a guest arriving had not brought out either of the proprietresses. Dean pushed the gate open and stepped into the yard. No response to the clink of the gate. Garden tools lay by an abandoned. “Now you.”With a shaking hand he took the pen, unsure if he was relieved or terrified. He initialed the change, capped the pen, and returned it. She discarded it into a cup on the desk where it sat, the red cap glowering at him for long minutes as she re-sorted the pages and stuffed them away into a desk drawer. “Okay,” she said with some finality. “So, I won’t tell, and neither will you, and if someone finds out I’ll come to your rescue,” she stated, clearly entertained. “Provided you do what. More

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