Frank was up and about when Allison emerged from the country house, carrying a platter of what he presumed was breakfast. He watched her from the his side of one of the propane heaters, on which he was warming water for Robert's formula.

The night had been surprisingly comfortable for both of the male guests to the McGee estate. The pad and bedding had kept the two of them warm and cozy, accompanied by one of the closed-flame propane heaters that received air from an opening in the tarp near the ground and exhausted gases through similar gaps at both the bottom and top of the doghouse. Frank had taken Allison's warming about carbon monoxide buildup seriously; he'd seen people kill themselves by burning charcoal in an enclosed space, unaware that they were both depleting their oxygen and accumulating the odorless, tasteless, invisible CO.

Allison apologized again for leaving Frank and the baby out of doors, then asked if they'd stayed warm. He responded, "I totally understand. And yes, we were plenty comfortable. Thanks for the extra bedding and heater.

She explained about Jennifer's body, then invited Frank to the picnic table for a hot breakfast. "I don't really know much about what infants eat."

"[i]This[/i] one will eat about [i]anything[/i]," Frank told her. "He's not picky, I've learned."

Allison talked about being the eldest of her generation of McGees, to which Frank laughed. "Ironically, I was one of the youngest. I have 32 older cousins and 4 older siblings. The only family members younger than me were Connie and Hanna, my sister and cousin, both two years my junior. We all lived in the Denver area, so we saw each other a lot, not just for holidays and family reunions."

Frank dug into the food before him, trying not to appear as if he'd never seen food in his life but likely failing. He would stuff his mouth with something, then tend to Robert a moment; once his mouth was clear, he'd repeat the steps again. 

"This is amazing," he told Allison, nodding his head toward the spread. "I haven't seen pork products in months--" He chuckled, continuing, "--and even then, I think it was one of those small cans of Vienna Sausages. Thank you for this. Really. This is great."

They continued eating, chatting about the farm surrounding them, mostly to make conversation. Frank wanted to ask if there was anyone else here with Allison, perhaps hiding out until they'd decided whether or not it was safe to reveal themselves. Perhaps right now, someone was watching him through the optics on a high powered rifle.

"I have a room in the house for you and Robert," Allison said after Robert told her he just couldn't and [i]shouldn't[/i] eat anymore. 

She explained with a serious tone that she'd been alone on the farm for two months and that she didn't function well alone. Robert understood that. Human Beings were a [i]herd[/i] animal, a social creature; they weren't meant to be alone for long periods of time, be them months, years, or more.

"I don't know you, Frank," she went on. She talked about his paternal care of Robert and how that had affected her, telling him, "If you want, you can stay here a while..."

He listened as she finished, then considered the offer before him. He and Jennifer hadn't had a destination in mind, other than north, possibly all the way to Canada. He had no where to be, which led him to respond, "I'd like that ... to stay, I mean. Couple of days ... more. As long as you'll have me. And I'll work, of course. I'll earn my keep, my room and board. I'm not a slacker, and I know things. I've been a Handy Man off and on during my life. Started out helping my father with home repairs, joined the Navy as a Machinists Mate, then got out and..."

He hesitated a moment, smiled, and laughed. "To be honest, I had trouble keeping a job for several years, so I bounced around from one job to another. Bad thing about that is you can't get ahead. [i]Good[/i] thing about it is that you learn to do a lot of things. I'm sure I can help you around here, though, honestly, I don't know the first thing about running a farm. Or do you call it a ranch?"