"Who?"
"Noelle Murphy."
Mike's frown was now as fierce as Melissa's had been earlier. "I thought she wanted to be a nun. I can't say I know her at all, but I always got the sense that she's as straitlaced as they come. I can't really see her . . . why are you grinning at me like that?"
"Because the idea's charming in its own right. Don't forgot that Noelle's a bastard, too—or do you really think that idiot Francis fathered her? Pat Murphy's bastard, at that."
Mike rolled his eyes. "Melissa, if there is any single person in Grantville who can be described as `not playing with a full deck' more than Pat Murphy . . ."
Melissa clucked her tongue reprovingly. She did that extraordinarily well. "Thou shalt not visit the sins of the mother on the daughter. The follies, neither. This much I can tell you, because she was a student of mine—Noelle's smart as a whip, and there's a lot more going on under the surface than it looks. As for the religious business, she's never actually decided to become a nun, so far as I know. And what difference does it make anyway? We're not asking her to play Mata Hari, are we?"
Mike rubbed his chin. "Well, no. But . . ."
Melissa rose from her desk. "Come on. Let's at least raise the idea with Deborah and see what she thinks."
Deborah Trout was enthusiastic. As Mike had darkly suspected.
"Noelle would be perfect! How soon can she clear her desk out?"
"What I thought," he muttered under his breath. Then, loudly enough to be heard:
"Oh, not any time soon. For the moment, she'll appear to be staying on the job. Undercover, you might call it."
"Oh." It was almost comical, the way Deborah's face fell.
On their way back, Mike grumbled to Melissa. "This is a screwy idea. The only reason Deborah likes it is so she can get rid of Noelle."
"You're right," agreed Melissa serenely. "But look at it this way, Mike. How would you characterize Deborah Trout?"
Naturally, she didn't wait for an answer. "I'd characterize her as follows: earnest, efficient, serious, dedicated, hard-working bureaucrat."
"Um. Yeah, okay."
"And she's ecstatic at the idea of getting rid of Noelle."
Mike started to brighten up. "Mind you," he cautioned, "there's a place and a need for levelheaded public officials."
"Oh, sure. But not where you'd be sending Noelle."
There was still a problem. "Uh, Melissa, I admit I don't know the girl—sorry, young woman—as well as you do. But I get the distinct impression that Noelle thinks of herself as, well—"
"An earnest, efficient, serious, dedicated, hard-working bureaucrat, with strong religious convictions that are leaning her toward joining a religious order. But don't forget she's also a bastard. Trust me on this one, Mike."
They walked on a little further. Melissa added:
"The next thing we need is a symbol of some kind."
Mike shook his head. "Stick to what you know, Melissa. No way you can gimmick a symbol that means anything. You just have to wait until something emerges on its own."
"From where?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? Maybe the meatpacking industry."
"Huh?"
"Bacon. To go with your scrambled eggs."
Part II: Enter the Ram
Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord."
Ezekiel 37:4-6
The Merino Problem
Paula Goodlett
"It's ironic," Flo Richards said to herself, as she sipped the last of her coffee. "I may just be the only person in Grantville who gained time, instead of losing it."
J.D. had gone to work and Flo had the house to herself for a few more hours, until the Sprugs arrived. She and J.D. had met them yesterday and agreed that they should move in. The house was certainly big enough, and with the four girls gone it was sort of lonesome. Johan, Anna, and all six children would barely make a dent in the space. It would be nice to have company.
Flo intended to enjoy the quiet time. She hadn't had much of it over the years. Four daughters, the farm, J.D., all these had used up most of her time. Now, it looked like she just might have the time to do some things she had always wanted to do.