From Here to Paternity

heard enough Super Mario music to last him the rest of his life.“
    “I’ll go up there now. He’s probably locked himself in a closet by now. I can just see it. Mel in a fetal position, humming Nintendo music and looking stoned.“
    “Shelley, why don’t you let Mike walk you back?“ Jane said. “I’ll wait for the girls.“
    There wouldn’t be another shuttle for fifteen minutes, so Jane used the time to run down to the gift shop. She bought the bowl she and Tenny had talked about, even though it was far more than she could afford and would be a challenge to pack. Then she ran to the tiny bookstore and inquired whether it had HawkHunter’s book.
    “You mean the first one?“ the elderly bookstore lady said.
    “I guess so. I didn’t know he wrote another.“
    “Oh, yes. The publisher tried to cash in on the success of I , HawkHunter and got him to write another. It was a dismal flop. Written too fast, with not much more to say. Just a careless rehash of the best-seller, really. Publishers never learn. It was remaindered about as fast as it was printed.“
    “My, but you know a lot about it.“
    “I had a chain of small independent bookstores in Denver back then. I retired up here and run this one just to keep my hand in. This is the last copy until I get another order,“ she added, taking a paperback copy from the rack to the left of the counter.
    “I’m surprised you carry his book here.“
    “Why is that?“
    “Well, he’s not exactly a friend of the resort.“
    “Oh, the Smiths wouldn’t think of interfering in my stock. That’s our agreement. And he is a celebrity. I don’t think they care anyway. Half the people who have bought copies since yesterday thought the demonstration was some kind of free entertainment.“
    Jane was back in her spot in front of the resort when the next shuttle arrived. She was relieved to see Katie and Denise on board, not least of all because she was no longer in the fading sunshine and it was getting uncomfortably cold. They got off the shuttle urging her to look at their purchases—a lot of hair paraphernalia, primarily. “Come on, girls, I want to go back to the cabin,“ Jane told them.
    “Were you waiting for us?“ Katie asked suspiciously.
    “I’m afraid so. Let’s go. I’ll explain why on the way.“
    Jane gave them an even more abbreviated version of what she’d told Mike. “Now, I don’t want to frighten you. There’s no need to be worried. As long as you’re in our cabin with the doors locked or in the lodge, there’s no question that you’re entirely safe. And we’re all probably safe anyplace else, too. But just to be real sure, I don’t want you going back and forth without an adult.“
    “Oh, Mom! We’re not babies !“ Katie said. But Jane recognized this as an obligatory whine. Much the teenage equivalent of the perfect housekeeper who automatically laments what a mess the house is when visitors come.
    “I guess you’ve been eating all afternoon?“ she asked, to change the subject as they started up the road. “There’s a dance here tonight, but it isn’t until eight o’clock. I thought we might rest for a while, maybe nibble some of the stuff we’ve got at the cabin, then come down here for dinner.“
    “What kind of dance?“ Denise asked.
    “A line dance, the poster said. Whatever that is.“
    The girls groaned in unison.
    “That bad?“ Jane asked. “We’ll give it a try anyhow. Nobody from home is around to know. And it might be fun. And there might be some interesting boys there.“
    The girls considered this in silence for the rest of the way.

    Shelley was sound asleep when they got back. The girls disappeared into their own room and closed the door. Jane started a pot of coffee and tidied up the living room. While doing so, she discovered to her annoyance that she still had Doris Schmidtheiser’s file folder. She’d have to remember to give it to Lucky, who could return it to Doris’s family or offer it to a member of the Holnagrad Society who might want to continue her research. Jane sat down and took the papers out, mildly curious. They were still in a jumble, just as they had been when she’d picked them up and stuffed them in the folder. She sorted them into stacks of similar-looking documents.
    Most of it didn’t make any sense at all to her. There were copies of old census reports which were interesting in a purely historical sense. She liked the look of the old-fashioned handwriting and