“Of course not, Hazel,” he said. “Leave the kid alone. A government
job! What do you know! Those things pay plenty. Where is it, baby?”
I could see him wondering how much he could tap me for to pay his bills
and I began to wonder if I’d have any money at all to keep up the
pretense. I said, “The job’s at Sonoma Preserve.”
Papa said, “What they need with a pyro up there?”
I got a brilliant inspiration. I said, “To keep the _Nothings_ in line.
A little burn here, a little burn there. You know.”
That struck my father funny. When he could stop laughing he said, “I
know you, honey. I’ve watched your think tank pretty close. You’ll take
care of yourself and no funny business. Do they have nice safe quarters
for you up there?”
“The safest,” I said.
I felt him take another prod at my blanket and withdraw. “Government
work is top secret,” I said.
“Sure. I understand,” he said.
So I went to my room and got my things packed. The folks made some more
fuss about my going away so sudden, but they quieted down when I told
them I had to go at once or lose the chance at the job.
Papa finally said, “Well, if the government isn’t safe, then nothing
is.”
They kissed me goodbye and I promised to write and to visit home on my
first free weekend.
“Don’t worry, Papa,” I said.
The jet buggy took me back to the preserve. When I went into the
office, Claude, my husband, was sitting across the desk from his father.
The old man had his hands to his forehead and there were beads of
perspiration showing where the fingers didn’t cover. Presently, he
lowered his hands and shook his head.
“Well?” asked Claude.
“Not a thing,” said the old man.