Frank could hear the love for her family's estate in her voice as she talked about how hard it was to keep it running. He admired that. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way about anything. 

Well, there had been Jennifer. They'd fallen in lust initially, following that up with love in the end. They'd been good together. That was over, obviously, but the feelings he'd had for her were still within him.

When she spoke of dying and wanting to be buried in the family plot, he said with humor in his voice, "Well, if I'm still here when that happens, I'll see to it. But after that breakfast, which was unbelievable, thank you ... I'd prefer that you didn't give up the ghost too soon."

He headed inside, showered, and found a new set of Allison's grandfather's clothes to don. He chose a plaid button-up and jeans, but -- because of the patriarch's relative shortness -- they were tight in the crotch and high at the ankles. He went with a pair of overalls again, which he could hang loose on his shoulders to give room to his [i]package[/i].

"Try this," she told him when he rejoined her on the porch. She talked about the family's ale recipe and what it took to raise one of the main ingredients. "I almost let the crop go this year. Might not even put it in next."

"No, don't do that," Frank told her with a stern tone. "This is delicious. If I have to come back here in the spring to help you plant and fall to help you harvest, you'll see me comin' up the driveway." He looked to the dogs, saying, "I'm sure the Stooges will let you know I'm coming."

Frank didn't know if it was what he'd said -- half in jest, half in all seriousness -- but a moment later, Allison was inviting him to stay around a while, possible a [i]long[/i] while. "...if you thought you'd be interested ... you and Little Bit could make a home here."

He smiled at the nickname his hostess had given Robert. Jennifer had had her own loving terms of endearment for the infant, but she'd never given him what Frank would have called a nickname. He liked Little Bit. It reminded him of a movie, of what a female character had called a child in her care. One day maybe he'd recall it came from [i]Quigley Down Under[/i], but for now it would remain a mystery to him.

"That's quite an offer, Allison," he told her with a smile and nod. 

He thought about the offer, looking out about the property. He understood after just one day of labor that the farm, ranch, orchard, etc., was far too much for one person, even one who'd spent her entire life learning the work. Two people would half the work; simple math. 

But was this what he wanted to do, be it for a week, a month, a year, or the rest of his life? He had nothing else going on in his life. Nothing he'd done over the last many years had been satisfying in any way to him. And since the pandemic, life had been one tragedy after another, including near starvation, forced labor, and conscription to a militia for which he did things that still woke him his sleep on bad nights.

"Deal," he said, almost before he knew he was even saying it. He looked back to the playpen, where Robert was milling about and testing out his language skills in yet more babbling. "[i]Little Bit[/i] needs stability ... safety and security. I don't think I'm going to find that for him out there anywhere. I think yesterday showed that."

He looked back to Allison, smiled again, and continued, "You show me what needs to be done and I'll get it done. If I come up with ideas on how to lessen the workload, I presume you'll want to hear them ... [i]however![/i] ... it's your place, and I'll understand if you shrug them off. [i]You're[/i] the boss."

Pre-pandemic, Frank would have leaned Allison's direction and offered out his hand to seal the deal. If was interesting how pandemics -- COVID-19 before this one, I-55 now -- had changed the world in such simple ways. He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen a birthday cake with candles on it, for instance. The idea of blowing spittle all over a cake's frosting and then serving that cake to others was just so wrong anymore.

He looked off again, to the distance forest that surrounded the majority of the estate's acres. "So ... what else can I do? There's got to be more that you want me to participate in. I could do the dishes, since you cooked, I mean."

He lifted his glass of beer in toast, sipped at it, and smiled.