So ... Artie stepped out and scratched on the tipi cover.“Karen, you’re on TV,” he said. Then he asked, “That much?”The dash to the office rivaled the Yankees winning the Series. Since I already knew how much, I wandered in behind the herd.The reveal must have already happened. Evidently they missed it.“No one has been able to locate Miss Post since she left the Miller Falls industrial tools complex...” some complex ... one building... “Where she purchased tooling for her shop.”The boys, in clean Miller Falls shirts and tan pants, who loaded my “tooling” were shown standing by the freshly painted red forklift, “Miller Falls, Helena, MT,” resplendent in its beginning to drip white paint.I began to laugh.“What’s so funny?” Angie asked.“When the back room boys loaded my used parts they were wearing tee shirts and worn out shorts. The forklift had a hard time lifting the box,” I said. “Okay, show’s over ... time for bed.”“Bed? They haven’t said how much you won.”“Does it matter?”The look. He had a house closing, a court call and two clients wanted appointments for which Cal had no idea of the subject. Looking at one of the names, he guessed it was another DUI that he wanted Cal to fix.“I almost forgot that I still have to make living.”He packed everything up. It was time to go home.Cal’s first order of business the following morning was to get something into his stomach. He hadn’t had a chance to eat anything the day before. A couple of eggs over easy with bacon and home fries would straighten that out. He stopped at his office first and then walked over to the Bluebird. He didn’t wait to be shown to a table. He took his regular booth in the back.It was early. The first breakfast wave was still in the diner. They were the working men, getting ready to go out and climb electric poles, pave roads or maintain the dorms and classrooms at the college. Cal thought they became quieter as he walked by them in his business suit.He supposed they were the lucky ones. They had.
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