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course, they knew how much I loved and missed Carl. I proved it with my lies about his business trips and my denial to admit to anything else.
    But they sorely wanted closure, even if I didn’t.

    “So tell me: how are the kids?” That was always Ryan’s first question during our once-a-month lunch dates.
    Carl had been dead just over a year. Although it was Acme’s policy to keep mum on its progress toward finding the Quorum, if I had learned just one thing from my mother it was that the best way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Ryan never turned down my monthly invitation. And of course, I always insisted on picking up the tab.
    Not that Ryan divulged much. In fact, he did his best to keep us focused on safe mundane topics, like Mary’s grades or Jeff’s last ball game or Trisha’s latest growth milestone, in the hope that we’d run out of time and he wouldn’t have to answer the one question that was always on my lips:
    What progress was Acme making in finding the Quorum?
    “The children are okay. They don’t ask about Carl as much as they did, you know, since Phyllis–”
    “Look, I’m sorry she told them that way. I know how hard it’s been for you.”
    “Oh, no, you don’t.” I was smiling when I said it, but he knew better. He hated me calling his bluff. But guess what? That was exactly what I was doing.
    “You know we’re doing everything we can. Seriously, Donna, I wish I could do more–” As he paused, his eyes shifted away. I now knew him well enough to realize that he was about to drop a bomb.
    “–Particularly since I’ve been ordered to stop Carl’s paychecks after next month.” He shifted uneasily in the hard plastic chair. “You see, because of all the recent terror threats, other things have taken priority–”
    That was his way of explaining why the care and feeding of an invisible spook hadn’t made the cut, and that was just too bad for the family Stone.
    Wow. Just like that.
    I knew he expected me to say something: perhaps to rant and rave, maybe even cry.
    Instead I laughed. That was my way of letting him know that he could forgo the sob story about the Agency’s latest belt-tightening measures.
    “Well, well, isn’t that the cherry on the cake of my day! So tell me, Ryan: just what am I supposed to do now? Sell the house, get some secretarial job, and put my kids in after-school daycare?”
    What other option did I have, considering I had a nine-year-old who needed dental work, and a flatfooted six-year-old who needed orthotics? And whatever widow’s pension was coming my way wouldn’t be kicking in for quite some time.
    I hope Ryan isn’t expecting me to pick up the check…
    “Frankly, I for one think that would be an incredible waste of your natural talents.” He paused then looked me in the eye. “Why not come and work for me?”
    “You’re being funny, right?” I couldn’t imagine that he found my carpool skills impressive. Maybe it was my ability to negotiate a sane bedtime with Mary.
    Or maybe he figured out that hiring me was the easiest way for Acme to search my house as many times as needed, until it found whatever they thought the Quorum wanted.
    Ryan didn’t know it, but I was aware that they’d broken in three times already, while Mary and Jeff were at school and I did my volunteer time at Trisha’s nursery co-op. In my home, everything has its place. Even my kids have found this out the hard way. So when something has been moved, you better believe I know it.
    If he had only bothered to ask, I would have told him that I’d already searched it myself, top to bottom, without finding anything out of the ordinary. But hey, if hiring me assuaged his guilt over Acme’s break-ins–not to mention canceling Carl’s paycheck–then bring it on…
    “I’m being perfectly serious, Donna. I’ve got a gut feeling that you’d make a pretty good field op. First of all, you’re in great shape–”
    This was true. I was solid as a rock.