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Eric had crowded in to look at the check. The four of us stood there staring at it. We were all adults, living in the twenty-first century, so the sight of five hundred dollars shouldn’t have floored us. But the whole situation was so bizarre.
    Neil took the letter and continued where I had stopped. “I have enclosed a check for five hundred dollars to cover your initial expenses and as a gesture of good faith. I hope to see you Thursday at nine. Sincerely yours, Alessandra Kline.”
    We stood for a moment in contemplative silence.
    “That should go a long way to soothing your ruffled feathers, Uncle Scrooge,” Neil said.
    “You’re going to take the job now, right, Maggie?” She waved the check in front of my face. “This proves that they aren’t horrible people out to insult you. She even apologized! You have to do it!”
    “It would only be temporary,” Neil reminded me.
    “Until something better comes along,” Eric added.
    They all stared at me, waiting.
    “They call me Cash,” I said.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    P art of the job description for aNavy SEAL is demolitions expert. After basic underwater demolition or BUD/s training, Neil excelled in blowing things up. Creating explosions may seem simple, but Neil has told me a little of what’s involved for safely containing and controlling what goes boom. He told me it was only natural for him to go to work in the dynamic electronics industry. Neil believes in playing to his strengths.
    Instead of your typical nine-to-five, which Neil has never done since he joined the navy straight out of high school, on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday he works twelve hour shifts, with four hours on Wednesday. I asked him when he was first offered the job if he could deal with the stress of the electronics field. He gave me a look that said, well at least no one is trying to kill me and I don’t have to worry about blowing myself up. Neil has his priorities straight.
    Sunday is family day in our house, when we take the boys out, sometimes to play football in the park. Neil has to be on my team since I reek like week-old tuna when it comes to sports. Both Josh and Kenny have inherited Neil’s athletic ability, and I can easily envision a future full of athletic scholarships.
    Mondays and Tuesdays are grown up time. I do the mom thing, getting the boys up, doling out breakfast, and seeing them off to school. Neil sometimes goes to the gym and occasionally drags me along. I do about ten minutes on the treadmill before giving up and chatting with Sylvia between classes. When Neil is done, we have a leisurely lunch, run some errands, and basically enjoy one another’s company. The boys arrive home around three, and Neil takes his turn helping with homework. Both children had surpassed my meager spelling and math skills in kindergarten.
    The downside of my week starts on Wednesday afternoons. Neil works half a shift, and I’m left alone with my thoughts. I like to think I’m an optimist at heart, but when one is forced to trundle about the house, desperate for someone to talk to, one goes a little nutty.  
    When Neil was away with his SEAL team, I had a hard time keeping my fear at bay, hence my need to scrub every available surface, wash every stitch of clothing, and cook for thirty while feeding three. I would take my casseroles and pies down to the Veterans’ shelter, where I knew they wouldn’t go to waste. Military spouses often develop a coping mechanism; mine happens to put Martha Stewart to shame. My anxiety has abated somewhat now that my husband is no longer being shot at, but the paranoia is crazy-glued to my mind. I scrub the house down every evening and play games with Kenny and Josh, but there is always a part of my brain that frets over finances and mulls over statistics of traffic accidents. That’s a problem when you lose someone you love at an early age, you never quite shake the feeling that the other shoe is about to drop.
    I’d