Aces and Knaves

their business pursuits, without glorifying them or mentioning money.
    When she was through, Michael said, "That's quite a story. Maybe I should have left too. The missus was always after me to go, but somehow I never got around to it. I do have me own business, though. Selling woolen goods. If it's warm sweaters you're after, we've got 'em. I'm even starting to do some business on the Internet, but it's slow going."
    "Have you got a website?" I asked.
    "Yes, but I'm having problems getting the customers to visit it. I'm trying to learn the code and how to make it look pretty; I hired a boy to put it together, but he costs money."
    "Karl is an expert at creating websites," Arrow said, giving me more credit than I deserved. "Let him take a look at yours. Maybe he can help."
    "And Arrow is an expert in marketing," I added.
    "A pretty lass like yourself?" Michael said, dubious, looking her over.
    However, he led us into the tiny spare bedroom, which he used as a home office. The state-of-the-art computer equipment looked out of place in this remote corner of the world, but Michael soon established a connection to the Internet.
    His website was bare-bones and I immediately thought of a dozen ways it could be improved, with better organization, use of color and modern graphics techniques. A thought occurred to me. If we could get on his good side he would be much more likely to talk freely to us.
    "I have some ideas," I told Michael. "If you like I'll do some work on it, but I won't change any of your existing pages so when I'm done you can either use my suggestions or stay with what you have. I can also get you hooked up with the best search engines."
    "I can't afford to pay you."
    "No, no, this is fun for me. I wouldn't charge you anything."
    The look on Michael's face told me that he didn't believe in taking something for nothing. I said, "There is something you can do for us in return. Elma asked...Elma is, umm, writing a book about her early life in Scotland. She asked us that if we were able to locate someone who knew her and Ned and James, to have them tell us their memories of those days so that she could use them in the book."
    Michael considered. "A book, is it? And she would send me a copy?"
    "Of course."
    "I wouldn't mind reliving those days." He said it, wistfully.
    There was another thing we had to do—get rid of Jock. Since the computer room wasn't large enough to hold four people Jock was standing outside the door looking like a guy who had just missed the bus. I said, "Jock, this may take a while. We really appreciate you bringing us here, but you don't have to stay. We'll find our own way back."
    Jock wasn't going to be dismissed that easily. Since the reason he had helped us was clear I turned to Arrow and pleaded with her, using my eyes. She squeezed past me and took him by the arm. I couldn't hear what she said to him as she guided him to the door, but I assumed she was bargaining, perhaps promising him a date for tonight. It was worth it, I told myself.
    ***
    Michael's wife returned while I was pounding on the computer and Arrow and Michael were going over his financial records on the dining room table. I was completely engrossed in programming, working fast to make up in speed what I lacked in ability.
    Michael had told us something about his wife so when I heard the front door close I immediately knew that I should show myself. I went quickly into the dining room. Arrow and Michael were sitting at the table with their heads close together. She had convinced him that she did know something about marketing.
    Mrs. McTavish entered the room on her way to the kitchen, with two large bags of groceries in her arms, just as I got to the back of Arrow's chair and put my hands on her shoulders. Michael looked up, startled at the appearance of his wife.
    He said, "Hello, dear, let me help you with those," sounding like a boy who has been caught watching an adult movie on cable. He quickly got up and took the bags from her. "These two have come from Los Angeles to find out about life here when we were young. Karl and Arrow, this is my wife, Heather."
    We said hello and Heather, who was short and thin, like her husband, nodded, without speaking or smiling and followed him through a swinging door into the kitchen. We could hear their voices then, speaking softly but rapidly, with Heather's demanding and Michael's placating.
    Arrow shrugged as if to say she couldn't help it and she'd seen it all before.
    I said,