Tribute

laid a hand over Cilla’s. “There’ll be lights and music again.”
    “She bought the dog from you,” Cilla murmured, “and the farm from your grandfather.” She looked at Gavin. “I guess it’s another circle. Maybe you could help me with the gardens.”
    “I’d like that.”
    “I hired a landscaper today, but I have to decide what I want put in. I’ve got a book on gardening in this zone, but I could use some direction.”
    “It’s a deal. And I’ve got a couple of gardening books that might give you more ideas.”
    “A couple?”
    Gavin grinned at his wife’s rolling eyes. “A few more than a couple. Who’d you hire?”
    “Morrow? Brian Morrow?”
    “Good choice. He does good work, and he’s reliable. Was a football star back in high school, and never pushed himself to be more than a dead average student. But he’s built up a good business and reputation for himself.”
    “So I hear. I met another of your former students today. Ford Sawyer.”
    “Of course,” Patty put in. “He lives right across the road.”
    “Clever boy, always was.” Gavin nodded over his tea. “Tended to day-dream, but if you engaged his mind, he’d use it. He’s done well for himself, too.”
    “Has he? How?”
    “He writes graphic novels. Illustrates them, too, which isn’t usual, I’m told. The Seeker ? That’s his. It’s interesting work.”
    “ The Seeker . Super-crime-fighter sort of thing?”
    “Along those lines. A down-on-his-luck private investigator stumbles across a madman’s plot to destroy the world’s great art through the use of a molecular scrambler that renders them invisible. His hopes to stop them—and secure his own fame and fortune—result in the murder of his devoted girlfriend. He himself is left for dead, but he’s also exposed to the scrambler.”
    “And is imbued with the power of invisibility,” Cilla finished. “I’ve heard of this. A couple of the guys who worked on my flips were into graphic novels. God knows Steve was,” she said, referring to her ex-husband. “They’d argue the Seeker versus the Dark Knight or X-Men as compared to the Fantastic Four half the day. When I said something about grown men and comic books, I got the fish eye.”
    “Gavin enjoys them. Well, Ford’s in particular.”
    “Do you really?” The image of the quiet-natured high school teacher poring over superhero comics amused her. “Because he’s a former student?”
    “That’s certainly a factor. And the boy tells a good, meaty story centered on a complicated character who seeks redemption by seeking out evil. He attempted to do the right thing, but for all the wrong reasons. To stop a madman but for his own personal gain. And that single act cost the life of the woman who loved him, and whom he’d treated carelessly. His power of invisibility becomes a metaphor—he becomes a hero but will never be seen. Interesting work.”
    “He’s single,” Patty added, and made Gavin laugh. “Well, I’m only mentioning it because he lives right across the road, and Cilla’s going to be alone at the farm. She might want some company now and again.”
    Head that one off at the pass, Cilla thought. "Actually, I’m going to be spending my days on the rehab, and my evenings plotting out the phases of the job. I’ll be too busy for much company for a while. In fact, I should get back to it. I’ve got a full day scheduled tomorrow.”
    “Oh, but can’t you stay for dinner?” Patty protested. “Let’s get a nice home-cooked meal into you before you go. I’ve got lasagna all made up and ready to pop into the oven. It won’t take long.”
    “That sounds great.” Cilla realized it did just that. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”
    “You sit right here, have another glass of tea with your father.”
    Cilla watched while Patty popped up, then bustled across the patio and into the house. “Should I go help her?”
    “She likes to fuss with meals. It relaxes her, the way gardening does me. She’ll like it better if you sit out here and let her.”
    “I make her nervous.”
    “A little. It’ll pass. I can tell you she’d have been disappointed if you’d said no to dinner. Lasagna’s Patty’s specialty. She makes the sauce from my tomato harvest every summer and cans it.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    His lips quirked at her quick and absolute surprise. “It’s a different world, sweetie.”
    “I’ll say.”
    In this world, Cilla discovered, people ate homemade lasagna