Javier had done an excellent job keeping things in order in Tommy's absence. He even had some thoughts on marketing and had floated the idea of coming on full-time. It was a grand idea. Tommy liked the business, liked the challenge of buying and planning, the tactile pleasure of making the product, and the joy of seeing the pleasure it brought others. But he had other obligations now. He would need Javier's help.
Tommy flipped a few switches and checked some dials before grabbing his things and heading downstairs. He'd gotten back to the City several hours before. It was his first full day back home after Amy's funeral three weeks earlier, and he didn't want to be late to pick up Rhonda from work.
Laying his friend to rest in Flagstaff had been almost more than Tommy could bear, especially given the manner of her passing and the added indignity of fielding enquiries from local officials about the circumstances of her death. Tommy had convinced Linda to allow his lawyers to sort things out. To his surprise, though, Linda had been a rock for both Sam and him. She had long since given over to her grief and had moved beyond it. There was much of Amy in her.
After the services, Sam almost immediately had returned to Chicago with the girls. It had taken him little effort to convince Christy Sue to join them.
Few of the 98 abductees they'd rescued were comfortable returning to their old lives. Most felt marked by their own governments, and over the past weeks, Philly had negotiated a "package deal," as she called it, with Sam's Las Vegas contact to provide them new identities. She'd also begun building Internet profiles and credit and work histories for those new identities.
The young woman merely had looked at Tommy with pity when he'd expressed surprise that she could do such things.
For his part, Tommy had divided the money he'd netted from the sale of the diamonds among their new charges as best as he was able. The sum hadn't been princely, but it was a great deal more than he'd first anticipated, and there hopefully would be enough for each to make a fresh start.
A few immediately had struck out on their own. Others had opted to relocate to San Francisco, to benefit directly from Philly's help and kindness. Some decided to settle in Chicago near Sam and Christy Sue, who had all of what passed for medical records they'd salvaged from The Farm. Several of the refugees would require ongoing medical help for months or years to come.
To Tommy's surprise, nearly 50 of the former prisoners had chosen to relocate to New York City. Despite Sam's admonishments to stay out of sight, most had watched from the windows of the medical center as he and Tommy had battled Ulysses and his mercenaries. The looks of awe and veneration he'd received from the frightened people filled Tommy with unease, as such things often had. But he wouldn't let them down.
Philly found renewed courage in their victory and had returned home still set on building a support community for Gifted everywhere. She would do so with Tommy and Sam's full support. Tommy wasn't coming out of retirement, but no longer would he bury his head in the sand. It was still not perfectly clear how the government had identified the people they'd abducted—Tommy was convinced Morse had played a prominent role in that—so they all needed to remain vigilant.
Much to Tommy's amusement and pleasure, Camille, who'd been back on duty for less than a week, already had texted for his help on two different cases. In Brooklyn, a large, muscular man in a leather mask, wearing a pea coat and watch cap, had detained two heavily armed bank robbers before dashing down an alley and up the side of a four-story building. Rumors on the Internet were that the Roustabout had returned to the City.
As Tommy entered the ER doors, he was still pondering how he might best finance his various ventures. Rhonda saw him and rolled up with a coo and a sigh.
"Was that your last trip out of town?" she asked as she pulled him tight and planted her lips on his cheek and jaw. His girl usually wasn't so affectionate in public, but since she'd flown out for Amy's funeral, she'd been especially loving and attentive. The urge to cry nearly overwhelmed him. She squeezed him and pulled him out the ER door.
"It was miserable, but it's the last of it for the time being." Tommy made a quiet hum and steadied himself.
"For the time being?"
"Sam and I are driving down to the Carolinas at the end of the summer," he said. "Christy Sue could bring the girls out then, if you like."
That should soften the news, he hoped.
Rhonda was smitten with the two children but didn't take the bait. "What the hell are you two going to do in the Carolinas?"
"Oh, I know of a few places where there's some Spanish gold buried along the coast."
Rhonda stopped, a look of incredulity on her face. They hadn't even travelled a block from the hospital. "Pirate treasure?" she asked.
"Well, I haven't always been an ice cream vendor," he said a little defensively.
"Let me get this straight," she said, ignoring his previous statement, "you want to run off at the end of the summer with your buddy and look for pirate treasure?—What? Are you 12?"
"Well, I'm older than 12," he began honestly. "But we do need to scare up some money. It beats selling a building."
She gave him a long suspicious look and then resumed walking. He moved to catch up.
"How much gold are we talking, here?" she enquired finally.
"I don't know. Someone might've found it by now. But if it's all still there, I suppose ... a quarter ton."
Rhonda let out a choking sound and stopped again. "Why am I still working for a living?"
Both began laughing. Tommy pulled his girl close and kissed her ear thoroughly, the way she liked. "You work because you love what you do," he said at last. "Just like I do. You can retire any time you want."
"I'll think about it," she whispered. She moved closer. "I guess we can be friends again ... as long as you bring home enough gold ... and stay away from that skank Mindy."
Tommy finally felt safe to let his tears flow, and he and Rhonda stood there laughing in one another's arms for some time.
***
Three hours later, after feeding his girl and putting her to bed, Tommy was setting up his cart at Madison Square Park. It was one of several places he had a permit to vend, and it was his favorite. The view was perfect, and he had many regulars there.
Or I did, he thought. It'd been well over a month since he'd last worked the location.
As he prepared for the day, his thoughts went briefly to Mindy Meeker, who was, as he had foretold, now both a widow and an orphan.
He had phoned the young woman, as he'd promised her he would. She deserved, at the very least, to know something of her father's end. It had been clear throughout their brief conversation that she silently wept, but Tommy was surprised how upbeat her tone had been. She was every inch her father's daughter. At the end, she'd thanked him for his kind words and hoped they might one day meet again.
He doubted they would, but Mindy had been candid in their talk. She wasn't completely innocent, but knew little about what had transpired at The Farm or The Range. Her father had insisted that she be insulated from the uglier details of the conspiracy. Such a man was Ulysses Morse.
Even if she had been more deeply involved in the whole wretched affair, Tommy had decided he wasn't a judge in a court of law. He knew of no principled way by which he could grade and punish all the malefactors involved. There were just too many, their crimes too varied. The small fish would get to walk away, but as he'd promised Linda and Philly, he would find and hold to account all the designers and architects of the atrocity.
All of them. So help me God.
He soon set aside notions of vengeance, and as he finished setting up for the day's business, he thought again of Amy and was seized with an enormous sense of happiness and wellbeing.
She had been a good friend to him and had gifted him with much during their time together. It was only with her loss that it became clear to him how much goodness in his life flowed directly from her.
They had met at a time when he'd soured on human society. But she showed him something important: Happiness doesn't have to last forever for it to be true happiness. Like no one else he'd ever known, Amy Lascar had lived in the moment.
Without Amy, he never would've taken another chance on government service, never would have met Elliot and Maxine, and never would have manned up to protect the city that was his home in 1991. And despite the backlash that followed that year, it was that little bit of Amy inside him that afterward led him to the improbable profession in which he was now engaged. What better way to get to know people and to engage with humanity?
Without Amy Lascar in his life, he never would have had the courage to love Rhonda Pierce or to befriend Eric Mueller and Camille Thomas. There would never have been a Philly Mettouchi for him. It was the Amy Lascar and the Sam Babington in him that lent him the courage to play father and guardian to 47 injured and wronged souls who recently had come to his City, seeking his protection.
Another tear formed in his eye as his first customer of the day approached. It was a regular, Fabian Briscoe, who had a small cup of chocolate-cherry mocha whenever he came by, despite being allergic to chocolate. Fabian had been a bicycle messenger when they'd first met. Now he worked as a graphic artist.
"Tommy, my man ... where've you been?" His voice was warm and filled with good cheer.
Tommy got Fabian his regular before he ordered. "Important family business," he said, handing him the cup. "First customer of the day ... on the house. Did you bring your pen?"
The man laughed. "Nah. I'll take an antihistamine when I get back to the office."
The two stood and chatted for some time. Regulars and non-regulars alike often loitered a time, eating ice cream and chatting under Tommy's large parasol. Before long, Fabian departed for his day, and several more customers came, purchased, and chatted. A small crowd had gathered when Tommy again heard his name taken it vain.
Looking up, he saw Nadia Liang, one of his absolute favorites. There was a fiver in her hand, and she looked thoroughly dapper in a perfectly tailored business suit and headscarf. Nadia was the daughter of Romanian emigres whose marriage a year before to a Chinese Muslim and adoption of her new husband's faith had not stopped her often shameless flirtations with Tommy.
"You ... you ... you ...," she said, handing him her money. "I thought we'd lost you, forever." She smiled broadly in laughing reproach. The headscarf was not a daily part of her ensemble. Tommy rather suspected its appearance was tied more closely to her having a bad hair day than to any fluctuations in her piety or devotion.
"I've been tending to family business," he said. "Have you missed me?"
"I'm a married woman," she nearly shrieked. "I'm not supposed to miss you." She smiled and winked as he got her usual and made change. Before she had a chance to make her customary flirtations, though, another regular arrived.
Tommy knew only that Chris was a banker. The man seldom stopped to talk, but looking at him now, Tommy suspected something.
"Chris ... boy or a girl?"
The man gave him a shocked look. "What the fuck?" he said with a slowly blossoming smile. "We haven't even told our parents yet."
"Tommy's a psychic," said Lynn, a stock analyst. "He once guessed where my parents were born just based on my accent."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa ...," said Chris. "Just a small today."
"Starting to pick up that sympathy weight already?" Tommy had long been good at making simple guesstimates.
Chris smiled and ran his hand through his thin, close-cropped hair. "Jeez, you are a psychic," he replied. "Okay, what's the due date?"
Tommy looked hard at the man. "Ummmm... second week in February."
"Shit," the man said. "Okay, you tell me, boy are a girl?"
"Girl," Tommy fired back.
"That was fifty-fifty," said Nadia, laughing.
"And that's all it is," said Tommy as he served another customer. "Just lucky guesses."
"Nah, nah, nah," said Chris. "All those others, maybe. But how'd you know the wife was in that way?"
"I don't know," said Tommy. He really didn't. "There's just something paternal about you now. It's your first, isn't it?"
"Yeah," the man beamed. "How about you, Tommy? How many you got?"
"Not a one," said Tommy. "The plumbing doesn't work right."
Nadia let out a sudden, "Oh, that's terrible," and just as suddenly began to blush. "You should see a doctor," she added wisely after a few moments.
"I went and saw a witchdoctor about it once. He wasn't very optimistic." The asshole charged me 15 sheep, thought Tommy as the small group laughed. It wasn't so funny then.
But he smiled. He loved these people, he loved the job he was doing, and he loved his life with Rhonda.
There was a ping from a phone. Nadia pulled hers out and began scrolling. "Have you guys been following the news?" she said in a hushed voice.
"Nah, what's that?" asked Tommy.
"Mallory Chaney is missing," said Nadia.
Lynn let out a loud gasp. "I heard about that. Jeez. The Secret Service is flipping out."
"Yeah," said Nadia. "It says here the president's going to speak about it at noon."
"There has to be something going on there," said a tall young man eating a large lemon sherbet crush. "Someone like that just doesn't disappear."
"According to BBC Online, there were half a dozen Secret Service agents at her house last night when it happened. That sounds like a lot," continued Nadia. "Tommy, what do you think?"
He smiled back at her. "I'm not really a psychic, you know."
"Oh, I know that," she said. "But you do know a lot."
"I don't know much about politics. But I know there've been a lot of disappearances in the last few years. A lot of people have just disappeared into thin air. A really good friend of mine vanished like that a few months ago." His voice was quiet, and Nadia looked at him in surprise and sympathy.
"Did they find her? ... your friend?"
"No. My friend Amy wasn't rich and famous," he said. "The police hardly looked for her at all."
Nadia regarded Tommy for a brief few moments with concern. "Do you think they're connected in some way? Your friend's disappearance? ... and Mallory's?"
"Nah," he said softly. "I'm certain of it."