Project Reunion (6 page)

He laughed. “OK. No more politics.”

“I don’t like people calling you a benign dictator.”

He shrugged. “They’ll call me a lot worse than that, if I try to fix this instead of letting people work it out for themselves. Just imagine if I tried to reform land use top-down. Get rid of all the little scraps, and put together effective farms.”

I sat up in alarm. “You mean, take my farm away?”

“Darlin’, you don’t have a farm. You barely have a subsistence lot.” I bristled. “Dee, my step-dad has a subsistence farm. It’s back-breaking work, with no end in sight. You never get ahead, never get it done. Even with me as free labor, we didn’t earn half as much as Momma. And he’s got ten, twenty times the land you do. I’m not criticizing you at all. I’m amazed at what you get out of that suburban scrap of land. But darlin’, it doesn’t have to be that way. You see these trees? The grass? That sunlight? The rain? They can do most of the work, Dee, if you leverage them right. This is a good farm.”

“This is a dozen good farms.”

Emmett shook his head. “One family runs this operation, and they know how. They give a lot of people jobs, sure. But it’s one farm.
But.
I’m not going to take your farm away. I’m not about to chop up this successful orchard and give the pieces to amateurs, either. So you break your heart and back feeding us all, on less than an acre, while Pine Ridge Orchard’s got apples to burn.”

“We don’t have enough margin to relieve New York, do we?” I asked sadly.

He considered that. “Shoreline Connecticut was a bedroom area. We don’t have any margin at all. That’s not true of the Northeast as a whole. There are plenty of real farms. Just not here.” He suddenly chuckled. “Is that what’s bothering you? You’re already hacked off that you’re breaking your back, while these Amen1 yahoos get a free ride? And then you picture feeding a bunch of city idiots, too?”

I pursed my lips to stifle a grin.

“Well, damn, Dee. That’s so unfair.”

I gave up and giggled into my knees.

“Oh, I know. They’re probably good at asphalt, those city types. We could put them to hard labor. They could jack-hammer up your street and driveways. That could give you, oh, another half-acre. You could plant a couple apple trees. Have to wait five years for the first harvest, though.”

“Stop!” I said, laughing.

He grabbed me into a hug and rolled us down into the grass. I finally relaxed into him, and just enjoyed the comfort of his body, insects singing, the people’s voices far away. Increasingly far away, in fact – it sounded like this party was drawing to a close. Only the real farm workers were left gleaning in earnest. The volunteers were worn out.

“Congratulations on your gleaning, Emmett. It was a good day.”

“Yeah, it was. Dee... I’m not coming back to Totoket tonight. I’ll be gone a few days.”

“Oh?”

“I need to do my research for this New York proposal.”

“Oh.” I assumed he meant to visit the border garrisons.

He kissed me slowly and tenderly, then pulled us both back to our feet, to walk down the cidery hill to the mad-house of laughing children by the little red shack. It was a good day.

He came back from his research sick as a dog, and closeted himself in his house. When the vomiting and fever subsided and he could think straight again, he had a lot of proposal left to write and precious little time left to do it in.

Chapter 5

Interesting fact: The Greater New York City borders were closed two weeks ahead of schedule on an emergency basis, due to the Ebola outbreak. The New York–New England border closed at the same time, a month early. Their share of the U.S. strategic reserves – food, fuel, and ammunition, among other things – was not delivered before the borders closed early.

“Darlin’, remember you’re not here as my girlfriend.” Emmett waited until we were parked at the Coast Guard Academy to drop this little bombshell. He casually proceeded to unbuckle his seatbelt and hop out of the car.

I sat gaping at him. That was the second time in two weeks I’d been informed that he wouldn’t consider me his girlfriend for the next bit. The first time hadn’t gone so well. For a moment I was just stunned. Then I started getting mad.

Maybe he felt the vibe. Maybe he just noticed that I wasn’t moving as he wanted me to. He bent down to peer in through the door. His familiar bushy brown hair was gone. Somehow he’d managed to get a precise military haircut after we’d quit work last night at midnight, and before he picked me up this morning for the trip to New London. His cropped hair was topped with proper red beret over cammies, the trousers bloused into combat boots. That look hid his tight wiry body even better than the dress blues. He looked padded. Why he wasn’t wearing dress blues, I hadn’t a clue. I was certainly wearing navy blue blazer and chinos, my old corporate standard. Suspicion dawned that I didn’t know who this man was, or what he’d done with my lover.

“Dee,” he said. “We’re both presenters here? Colleagues.” He sighed. “Just trust me on this? We cannot have a scene right now. We’ll talk later in our room.”

Our room
, yes. How exactly weren’t we here as lovers, when we were sharing a hotel room? Oh, yes, there would be a talk. I pulled his messenger bag out of the back seat and thrust it at him. Then I flashed him my sunniest steel-edged smile. “I look forward to that, Major MacLaren!”

He grinned crookedly. “Shit. I’ll see you in the meeting, Ms. Baker.”

By the time I’d clambered out of the car with my own laptop case, and straightened my clothes, he’d been swallowed into a small flock of a half-dozen cammie-clad men of similar 30-something age. They clapped each other on the shoulders, shook hands, sometimes combined with half-hugs, and other close physical male bonding. At a guess, they were the Connecticut Rescos, minus their commanding officer, Lt. Colonel Mora, the only other Resco I’d ever met. The Cocos were civilians, or at least reservists. But the next tier up, the Rescos, retained their commissions as Army officers.

I sighed, affixed another false smile on my face, and looked around for anyone else I knew cluttering up the little campus green in front of the entrance. Finding none, I headed for the door. Just inside, I met an armed security screening checkpoint, yet another thing I didn’t miss from life before the borders.

“Corporal Tibbs!” I cried, with a sincere smile this time. “So good to see you again! Thank you for your help last winter.” The stolid young marine had been my jailer the last time I’d visited New London harbor, on an aircraft carrier converted to an ark. He’d been dutiful enough as a jailer. He’d also surreptitiously gotten word of my incarceration to the right people. That probably saved me from death at the hands of Homeland Security. I was glad to see it didn’t get Tibbs fired.

“Ms. Baker. Good to see you well.” A certain sharp glance suggested that Tibbs would prefer I not get too specific, in this context, about the incident last winter. He inspected my laptop bag thoroughly. He ran me through the stand-up X-ray. He photographed me and took a retina print. From all this, he produced a very high-tech version of a ‘Hi! My Name Is Dee!’ name tag. It proclaimed my affiliation as ‘Presenter, Amenac Resource, New Haven County.’

I slung its lanyard around my neck, and tried not to dwell on how many trillions the Defense Department had added to the national debt with toys like this. It was all moot now.

I re-affixed earrings and shoes, and gazed around the sea of cammie-clad men, as the after-images from the retina scan abated. They were all men. The different color berets and camouflage probably meant something. But not to me.

“Dee,” Tibbs said softly, “Lieutenant Commander Lacey is over there. He’s standing with Captain Niedermeyer.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” I breathed. And I hesitated. These military types seemed very big on protocol. I knew nothing about military protocol. With them all wearing cammies, I couldn’t even tell Navy from Army from Coast Guard or Marine, without getting close enough to inspect the labels.

“Captain Niedermeyer is your host, ma’am,” Tibbs further prompted. “It is always appropriate to greet your host first. Or anyone else you already know.”

“Right. Thank you!” I hazarded a smile at him this time. But he blandly gazed out the door, in relaxed readiness, and pretended not to know me. Right. I couldn’t blame him. Ex-prisoner, ex-jailer was such an awkward social tie. I steeled my courage, and strode to my ex-fiancé Adam Lacey as though this were a cocktail party. “Adam!” I cried.

“Dee! Great to see you!” Adam, at least, didn’t have a flagpole up his back. He broke into a broad grin, folded me into a warm hug, and kissed my cheek. He turned to his companion. “John, I’ve told you about Dee Baker, my once fiancée. Dee, meet Captain John Niedermeyer. Ah, Dee, a Coast Guard captain is two ranks up from an Army major,” he added for clarification. “In contrast to an Army captain, who is one rank below major.” Adam understood my haziness on such matters.

“Well, that’s confusing,” I said with a laugh. I held out a hand to shake, hoping for the best. “Pleased to meet you at last, Captain Niedermeyer. And thank you for inviting me to present.”

Niedermeyer grasped my hand for a robust two-handed shake, so apparently I got that right enough. “Pleased to meet
you,
Dee. You saved our posteriors on the New Year’s hurricane. Looking forward to your presentation!”

Niedermeyer smiled. I smiled. Adam put his hand on the small of my back to draw me to his other side to chat. So apparently that was enough of that. I was just grateful I didn’t have to wade alone back into the throng of large men in cammies again just yet. Adam and I had a fine time catching up quietly. Occasionally Niedermeyer boomed greetings to others, but Adam merely smiled and nodded politely to them.

Of course, that didn’t include Emmett. After Niedermeyer fulsomely greeted Emmett, Adam pulled his right hand off my back to offer it to him. “Good to see you again, Major.”

“Have we...met,” Emmett managed, glancing down at Adam’s name tag and thus answering his own question. “Ah, of course, Lieutenant Commander. At Zack’s funeral.” He was not pleased to find me with some other man’s hand resting on my back. He was not more pleased to recognize my ex-fiancé. Being reminded of Zack’s funeral didn’t help much, either.

I was annoyed enough with Emmett to be glad. I smiled sunnily.

His head tilted. “Uh-huh.”

With all the panache you’d expect of a Wall Street scion and prep school upbringing, Adam cut in smoothly, “I hope your trip from Totoket wasn’t too challenging. I hear a bridge was out on I-95? Refreshments will be served in a few minutes.”

“The inevitable pizza?” I quipped.

“We’ve adopted the inevitable clam chowder of late,” Adam played along. “I also anticipate cider.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander.” Emmett placed his hand firmly on the small of my back and led me away to stand against a wall between him and a rubbery plant. He occasionally greeted people. I smiled and shook hands when he introduced me, and otherwise bonded with the rubbery plant while he socialized with not-me.

“I only know three people here,” I pointed out to Emmett during a lull in the greetings. “You, Adam, and the Marine at the door. The Marine held me in jail last winter. Well, Mora too, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Uh-huh.”

I shot him a hairy eyeball. Accidentally, on my eyes’ way back to pleasant blandness, I caught Adam’s eye down the hall. He looked amused. He also looked damned good. In a sea of large bulky looking men, leave it to Adam to actually look good in cammies. Superior tailoring, no doubt. I fought to suppress a grin.

“Dee, I didn’t brief you,” Emmett cut in, “because I wasn’t worried about you. You’re better at making instant friends than anyone I know. Then twisting them around your little finger.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” I claimed.

“Uh-huh. So you just did. Right in front of Niedermeyer.” Emmett looked pointedly at Adam, then held my eye again. “Look, the brass is going to be here any minute. I just introduced you to a half dozen colleagues of mine. They’d love to know you. Go mingle.” He sighed. “Try to avoid the brass.”

He pushed off and immediately another man’s arm flung around him. The same little Resco flock from outside drifted back to him, their seeming center of gravity.

I kicked myself mentally for being slow on the uptake. That’s exactly what was happening. Emmett was second in command of the Rescos in Connecticut. This was his team, and he was revving them up until their boss, Mora, showed. And brass would be...Mora? And Niedermeyer?

I drifted into a side room to sample the clam chowder – the standard New England cream-based variety. No pricey wheat crackers were included. It had been a century or so since New England had grown much wheat, and we were still tooling up on that. My sense of humor gradually kicked in. “Oh, good heavens, you’re from Massachusetts? I wasn’t sure it was still there!” and other party quips to my fellow buffet grazers.

One of the other Connecticut Rescos, Cameron, from the northeast corner, ducked in for food. He actually stopped to get to know me. “I can’t tell you how much Emmett has helped me, Dee. And Amenac! God, it’s a lifesaver. I’m really looking forward to your presentation tomorrow!”