Time and Again

Maybe you can give her some pointers."
    "Sunny's always taking lessons." There was both amusement and affection in Libby's voice as she passed the salad on to her mother. "She's good at everything. She took up parachuting and figured the next step was to learn how to fly the plane herself."
    "Makes sense." He glanced over at Caroline. Caroline Stone, he thought, not for the first time. The twentieth-century genius. Cal would have found it no more incredible to be sharing a meal with Vincent Van Gogh or Voltaire. "This is a wonderful salad, Mrs. Stone."
    "Caroline. Thanks." She slanted a look at her husband, knowing he would have preferred his sausages and chips and a cold beer. After more than twenty years, she hadn't quite converted him. That never stopped her from trying.
    "I feel very strongly that proper nutrition is what keeps the mind clear and open," she began. "I recently read a study where proper diet and exercise was directly linked to longer life spans. If we cared for ourselves better, we could live well over a hundred years."
    Noting the expression on Cal's face, Libby gave his ankle a kick under the table. She had a feeling he'd been about to inform her mother that people did live over the century mark, and regularly.
    "What's the use of living that long if you have to eat leaves and twigs?" William began, but then he noted his wife's narrowed look. "Not that these aren't great leaves."
    "You can have something sweet for dessert." She leaned over to kiss his cheek. Six rings glittered on her hands as she offered the bowl to Cal again. "Have some more?"
    "Yes, thanks." He took a second serving. His appetite continued to amaze Libby. "I admire your work, Mrs. Stone."
    "Really?" It still pleased her when anyone referred to her weaving as her "work."
    "Do you have a piece?"
    "No, it's- out of my reach," he told her, remembering the display he'd seen behind glass at the Smithsonian.
    "Where are you from, Hornblower?" Cal switched his attention to Libby's father. "Philadelphia."
    "Your work must involve a lot of traveling." Cal didn't bother to suppress the grin. "More than you can imagine."
    "Do you have a family?"
    "My parents and my younger brother are still back- back east."
    Despite himself, William thawed a bit. There had been something in Cal's eyes, in his voice, when he'd spoken of his family.
    Enough, Libby decided, was enough. She pushed her bowl aside, picked up her tea with both hands, then leaned back, her eyes on her father. "If you have an application form handy, I'm sure Cal could fill it out. Then you'd have his date of birth and Social Security number, as well."
    "A little snotty, aren't you?" Will commented over a forkful of salad. "I'm snotty?"
    "Don't apologize." Will patted her hand. "We are what we are. Tell me, Cal, what's your party affiliation?"
    "Dad!"
    "Just kidding." With a lopsided grin, he reached over to pull Libby onto his lap. "She was born here, you know."
    "Yes, she told me." Cal watched Libby hook an arm around her father's neck.
    "Used to play naked right out that door while I was gardening."
    Despite herself, Libby laughed, even as she closed a hand over her father's throat. "Monster."
    "Can I ask him what he thinks of Dylan?"
    She gave his head a shake. "No."
    "Bob Dylan or Dylan Thomas?" Cal asked, earning a narrowed look from William and one of surprise from Libby before she remembered his affection for poetry.
    "Either," Will decided.
    "Dylan Thomas was brilliant but depressing. I'd rather read Bob Dylan."
    "Read?"
    "The lyrics, Dad. Now that that's settled, why don't you tell me what you're doing here instead of driving your board of directors crazy?"
    "I wanted to see my little girl."
    She kissed him, just above the beard, because she knew it was partially true. "I saw you when I got back from the South Pacific. Try again."
    "And I wanted Caro to have the fresh air." He sent his wife a smug look over his daughter's shoulder.
    "We both figured the air around here worked well the first two times, so we'd try it again."
    "What are you talking about?"
    "I'm talking about this place being good for your mother's condition."
    "Condition? You're sick?" Libby was up and grabbing her mother's hands. "What's wrong?"
    "Will, you never could come to the point. What he's trying to say is I'm pregnant."
    "Pregnant?" Libby felt her knees go weak. "But how?"
    "And you call yourself a scientist," Cal murmured, and earned his first laugh from Will.
    "But-" Too dazed to be annoyed by