Unfirom was not quite able to shudder. As he strode across the park, the thought of the phronik trying to handle their job one at a time, though, brought him fairly close. An attempt to influence lovers by less than the full crew would bring on a rush of lopsided emotion. He reassured himself with the consideration that any phron’s FIRST target would be any breath mints or bubblegum s[potted in a pocket or purse.
He glanced at the sky. His colleague Yomottow was probably still doing very well as a guardian angel.
Spotting another couple I the park, he dismissed this unworthy thought and strode on. The two men, completely overdressed for their surroundings, stood in the grass center of the track, oblivious to the people around them running after health. The tall developer was one of the pair, still lacking any hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothing. The shorter older man wore his wrinkles as a sign of his higher position in Rock Mountain: it was Marty, of course. Unfirom and the phronik had worked on Marty officially some thirty years ago, achieving success with Marty and his sweetheart. But one of the sad truths of this work was that making a couple fall in love did not guarantee that they would not fall out again.
Still, that first marriage had averted some of the complications that might have ensued otherwise, and Marty had risen to become a power in the community. He was a solid businessman, an officer of the Pont a Methon Museum, and a man never to be seen dining at Booty Burger.
Unfirom moved up unseen behind them as Marty said “Oh, I don’t suppose there really are any underground huts here. Griese wouldn’t have bought land he couldn’t build on.”
“He might not have known.”
Marty shook his head. “He’d know. All business, Griese, from everything I’ve heard, and no nonsense. He’d want this place developed in a way that will really put Rock Mountain on the map.”
The older man raised a stubby pointing finger. “Speaking of which, when you take out that fieldhouse for the new park lodge, we’ve been talking about a nice luxury lounge at one end.”
A tiny crease ruffled the ridge of the developer’s nose. “I thought everyone had agreed on a very inconspicuous park lodge. Perhaps partly underground.”
Marty nodded violently. “And that’s what we want, exactly what we want. But with a big room tacked on, with stained glass windows. They’re talking about weddings in the park, amd there’d need to be a place to go if it rains.” He swung a hand around behind him to wave in the direction of the not yet constructed Pont a Methon Museum. “Can’t have a whole dripping wedding party crowded into the galleries.”
The developer paused, considering an inconspicuous lodge with a large wedding chapel attached. “The gazebo we….”
“That’s the ticket.” Marty’s playful punch left a dent into the flawless surface of the jacket. “Exactly right: something along the lines of that gazebo. Great stuff. I know your team can give us just what we’re looking for.” He turned away to smile across the real estate. “And you’re right about one thing. If somebody else has heard about old sod huts, there’ll be delays. I’ll get Gabriel to check the old plats. But I bet they were all just filled in.”
The developer’s head quivered slightly to the left and then the right. “But that’s what we….”
“Got to run.” Marty nodded some more. “There’s a trustees’ meeting tonight, and I better be ready. Some of ‘em coming in from out of town. Keep up the good work.”
More small creases appeared in the developer’s face as he watched Marty go. Then he turned to regard the old brick fieldhouse. Unfirom saw six different lounges, two of them obviously chapels, pass through the man’s mind. The angel thought this over. Would having a chapel in the park complicate his work with the phronik, or make it easier?
Then he sped forward, shifting his constitution as he did so. Marty was no more than ten feet from the gate out of the park when the angel, now a graying man with a plaid sportcoat and a necktie with orange eagles all over it, called, “Well, it’s Marty, isn’t it? How’s Leah?”
Marty was far too good a businessman to suggest that he had failed to recognize a man who not only knew his name but that of his wife. “Fine, just fine! And how about you? And how about….”
“Fine, fine, we’re all just fine.” Unfirom reached out to shake Marty’s hand with enthusiasm. “Nice day!”
“Yes, indeed!” Marty returned the enthusiasm of the handshake. “And the…kids?” Grandkids more likely, he thought, but it was better not to push too far without knowing the territory.
“What can you say about kids?” the older man chortled. He looked back at the track. “So this is the park, huh?”
“You’re in tow for the meeting?” Marty had already figured this out, but it gave him something to say. “Yeah, this is it. Not much to look at now, of course. Er, Shirley Waterman’s in town for the meeting, too. She’s too smart to see this as much of an asset unless we do some work. Did you read that….”
The other man shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure whatever you come up with will be an executive decision.” He grinned. “I actually came in to see Rebecca Swartz. I’ve been hearing about her for it seems like years now, and someone said she might be at the meeting.”
“Swartz? Rebecca Swartz?” Marty was still not on firm ground. He knew all the trustees’ names, if not their faces, and there was no Rebecca Swartz among them.
“Oh, you know,” said the tall grey man. “What-do-you-call-it…Community Relations or what-have-you for Booty Burger.” He shrugged. “I guess they’re sending her to put in a bid for the cafeteria concession.”
“Well, now….” Marty looked the man up and down again. Had someone really come from THAT far out of town?
The other man had raised his head to study the thickening clouds. “That’s your business, of course. But she might be able to pass along some community relations tips when we break for drinks.”
“She’s that good?” Marty rubbed his chin. Booty Burger was calling in the big guns? Did that mean their CEO was scared, or that there was an ace in the hole no one here knew about?
“There were those canvas bags for some book fair in Chicago,” the other man said, still scanning the sky. “For some library. People loved ‘em, and the name Booty Burger was all over town by the end of the week. Wish she could’ve done something about the colors.”
“Mm,” said Marty. And no one had heard….
“And some recreation program at that park in Milwaukee, to push all that protein they sell.” The man shook his head in admiration. “Half the kids in town carry a Booty Burger water bottle or wear that headband. Same rotten colors.”
“Mm-hmm.” Marty looked across the park, calculating. Not good, if Booty Burger was known for buddying up with parks and cultural institutions.
Unfirom could see the doubt nibbling the edges of Marty’s confidence. What he had said was true, too, even down to a possible visit from Ms. Swartz. All he had omitted to mention was that Booty Burger saw no point in spending any goodworks dollars in so minimedia a community as Rock Mountain.
“Don’t know that we’d want Booty Burger selling in the museum basement so much,” he said. “But the money can’t hurt.” He spread out his hands, palm out. “But that’s all up to you. Good to know Booty Burger is taking that much of an interest in us.”
Marty had forgotten his own hands, one of which was now stroking his throat. “And, er, Ms….Swartz?”
“Rebecca Swartz.”
Marty’s eyes rolled up for a second as he recorded the name and pronunciation. “Ms. Swartz. She’s in town now?”
“Haven’t seen her yet. Do me a favor and call me at the hotel when she wants to set up a meeting. Not to interfere; I just want a chance to talk to her.” Unfirom’s eyes shifted to the left. “Gotta go. Keep up the good work.”
He started away but Marty had a hand on her jacket. “A…bout how old a woman is Ms. Swartz?”
“Young, for as much as she’s done.” Unfirom raised his free arm. “That wouldn’t be her now, would it?”
He had supposed correctly, but in turning to look, Marty let go of his sleeve. “Is it?” Marty said, leaning forward to peer across the grass. “I….”
Marty spun around. The tall grey man wasn’t there. Turning back, he looked over at the unknown woman, to see if his new friend was already moving in to talk to the phenomenal Ms. Swartz.
Unfirom had instead recognized another couple moving toward the sort of mishap he was here to prevent, and needed to speak with smaller phenomena. Once again among the immortal colors of the park, he scanned the ground for phronik.
His ears caught the melody, but it was no more than a duet. There would be delays while he sought the rest of the combo. Ph, why couldn’t he be working with something easy to corral, like dandelion fluff or baby spiders?
“Cousin Katie was a star on radio
Playing Tiny Tina Tippett on a big hit show;
A saucy little miss who was adored by all –
Along came television: Kate was six feet tall!
Percolator, Coffemaker,
Subaru and Studebaker:
All ya got is all yer gonna get,
Waddya bet?”
Sweet Pea and Primrose had found a pile of grass clippings from the last time Park Maintenance had passed this way, and were very busy disentangling and replanting each blade. This was naturally taking time, as most had been cut in a way which made it difficult to decide which was the root end and which the top. Which did not make it difficult to argue about, of course. Each blade fell flat almost immediately upon being planted, but neither phron was interested in that detail.
“Have you seen your sisters?” Unfirom asked, stepping up as the pair were slapping each other with bits of their new garden.
Sweet Pea glanced up. “You mean today?”
“I mean now.”
The phron looked left and right, eyes wide and interested. Unfirom tapped an index finger against his thigh.
“Oh well,” he said. “I suppose I’ll find them where the bunnies are.”
Sweet pea dropped her plants. “Are they hogging all the bunnies again? Those guys are…worse than pumas!”
“As long as they’re not eating all the chow.” Primrose sighted along oe blade of grss to make sure it was perfectly straight before flinging it over one shoulder.
Sweet Pea was already up in the air. “Oh, there they are! They’re playing nice…not bothering bunnies at all.”
Following her gaze, Unfirom spotted the other two, flying from a man to a woman and back again. He understood at once what they were up to. He shook his head. Baby spiders, definitely.
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