Denver Cereal

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
(part four) 
Monday morning, 10 AM

Jacob leaned forward to look at Jill. She was sitting against the back of the couch holding her cup of coffee. She hadn’t said much since coming to get him for his ten o’clock break. He wondered if she was irritated that he wasn’t sleeping as the doctor ordered.  She didn’t look irritated. Mostly she seemed lost in thought.

But how would he know if she looked irritated or not? To him, her every expression was beautiful.

“We weren’t always wealthy,” Jacob said.

“What?”

“You asked me why I had so much money if I don’t care about it at all.” He paused. “Listen, I can imagine how strange it must be for you. Everything is different for you, for Katy and for me.”

“But not bad,” Jill said. “I’m not moving back to the apartment because I’m unhappy or anything’s bad. I just feel…. I don’t know… like I should. I mean, you said it last night, we don’t really know each other.”

Jacob nodded.

“I’d like you to stay,” he said. “Not as my nurse maid. I like your company. I like being in the same room with you, under the same roof. I think everyone does. How can I get to know you better if you’re somewhere else?”

Jill opened her mouth to respond then closed it.

“You started to tell me about making the money.”

“Right.” He noticed her diversion but didn’t want to fight it. “We lived in a little apartment until I was about five years old. Two bedrooms. Val and I shared a room. My parents worked. A lot. Val and I spent all our time either at school or with Delphie. I didn’t know we were poor. I guess we had each other.”

“What happened?” Jill asked.

“A bunch of stuff,” Jacob said. “In building the new airport, priority was given to women owned businesses.  My mother owned a majority share of Lipson Construction because she put up the Marlowe mine as equity to start the company.  Lipson got the work. They did such a good job at DIA that when they closed Lowry Air Force base, we got that work too.  Then they closed the old airport…. Just before she died, my Mom reformulated the company by creating the board of directors, and we got to work on the T-Rex project. By the time she died, the company was worth a lot of money.”

“But didn’t you live in a big house in Crestmoor before….”

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
(part three) 

“Um, Ok. You want to film this?”

“Yes, Dr. Lerner,” the producer said.  “We’re taping for Oprah. She’d like you to show the painting and tell us how you found it.”

“Ok, yeah, I got a call last night,” Adam Lerner said.  A trim, handsome man, he looked more like a rock climber than a curator of the Lab at the Denver Museum of Art.

“Can you stand next to the painting?” The camera man said.

“Um, sure.” Adam moved over to an oil painting.

“Ok, go ahead,” the camera man said.

“It’s a funny kind of thing,” Adam said. “Museum curators can make their entire careers on finding a great painting. I’m pretty young to be a curator. And I’ve been a curator for a long time. Finding a great work of art, like this, would solidify my career. Not that I’m unhappy in my career.”

“You’re doing great,” the producer said. “Just tell us the story.”

“At the same time, artists want their work to hang in museums. Most artists believe they’ve created great works of art.”

“When they haven’t?”

“Mostly. No. You can see there’s this collision of forces. The artist and the museum curator act in this kind of dance… of greatness.”

Adam took a breath. Over the last five years, he prepared for what he would say when someone finally asked and Mike was ready to tell. He just hoped he didn’t screw it up.

“Anyway, I received a call from Senator Patrick Hargreaves about a painting. Usually, I don’t respond to ‘come see my painting’ requests because….”

“There are so many?”

“Well, yeah. And we don’t have a permanent collection at the Lab. They got my name from someone who knew me or met me.  Anyway, the Senator said that the painting was a gift from a local artist and he felt it was too good to keep in one collection.  He wanted to donate it to the museum. Would I come for dinner? Please bring your wife. Oh, and the artist would like to remain anonymous. Of course, I was suspicious. But can you really say no to a Senator who invites you to his house for dinner? I couldn’t.”

Adam shook his head.

“Please continue.”

“I know they fed me dinner, and I’m certain it was wonderful. My wife went with me. I remember that. But honestly, when I saw this painting…. I don’t really remember anything else. I wanted to hide it, protect it… like a naked child in the freezing rain….”

“And?”

“No one could believe we had what we had. We did all the tests - paint, xray, whatever. Was it a copy of a masterpiece? A fake? No, it was a new painter. This painting is a huge find. A real masterpiece. Then we asked to meet the artist. We had to force their hand as the artist didn’t want to talk to us.”

“Michael Roper.”

“If you say so,” Adam said. “All I can tell you is that a really amazing human being painted this painting and gifted it to the museum… through me. It’s considered to be one of America’s great masterpieces. We’ve received offers to buy it from major museums - New York, Smithsonian…. There’s no way we’re selling it. This painting belongs to the people of Denver and their Museum.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“He’s painted others.”

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
(part two) 

“Oh Sandy.” Her mother’s voice dripped with disappointment. “A man like that…. You have to string him along.  You don’t want to end up like Jill do you?”

“Jill’s a wonderful person. I wouldn’t mind being just exactly like Jill.”

“You know what I mean.” Her mother’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Alone with a child.”

“Oh. You mean like you?”

“Sandra.  You are no match for a wealthy older man. He’s going to use you and dump you.”

“Maybe I’ll use him, Mom. I was thinking of spending all his money then dumping him.”

“You are not very funny, young lady.  What does he do?”

“He helps run a company,” Sandy said.

“That man is way out of your league.” Her mother’s voice was conclusive.  “Men like that don’t marry girls like you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get married.”

“Oh Sandy.”  Her mother’s sorrow came through the phone lines. “How will you ever have children?”

“The usual way, I suppose.  Sorry, Mom, I’ve got to go.”

“I saw your father last week.”

“My father’s dead, Mom.”

“Your real father, Sandra.”

“Why do you interact with him at all, Mother?”

“I can’t help that he banks at my branch.  Although he doesn’t have much money.” Her mother sighed.

“How do you know that, Mom?”

“He waited to come up to my teller window. He told me that you won’t even speak to him.  He said that he saw you at King Soopers and you walked the other way.”

“And?”

“Sandy… honey, you can’t blame a man for being an alcoholic.” Her mother gave another exaggerated sigh.  “Gosh, your father hurt me more than you and I’ve moved on. I’ve forgiven him. You need to….”

“Sorry Mom. I’m going to be late. See you Friday for a color?”

“Yes, honey. I just get so worried about you. And with this new man….”

“Remember, I have that party on Friday,” Sandy said. “You have to come before work.”

“The party at Jacob Marlowe’s house. Is Jill still dating that gay boy?”

“Jill is dating Jacob,” Sandy said.

“Poor Jill. I guess a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do to feed her child,” Sandy’s mother said. “I just don’t want you to be in that position, Sandy.”

“Ok Mom. Love you. See you Friday morning.”

“Oh, love you, Sandy.”

Sandy hung up the phone. In years past, she might have been angry about the conversation. Today, she just felt sad. Not for herself. No. Outside of the surprised assault of gripping pain, Sandy never felt much of anything for herself.  She felt sorry for her mother.

Grateful too.

Her mother taught her independence, gave her siblings to love and more than anything brought her step-dad into her life. Her only real parent, he loved her, understood her, and protected her from awful, unspeakable things. Before he died, he even bought this condo for her.

When Jill told her that Jacob was adopting Katy, she reminded Jill of what her step-dad used to say. Souls find each other. Trevor never liked Katy much. Maybe Jacob was supposed to be Katy’s father.  Just like her step-dad believed that he was supposed to be Sandy’s father.

Sandy couldn’t be too mad at her mother.

Finishing her coffee, she straightened the bed, cleaned Cleo’s cat box then got dressed for the gym.

And Aden.

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
(part one) 

Monday morning, 9:20 AM

In her own bed, Sandy rolled onto her back and stretched. Aden had brought her home before he went to work at five that morning. Sandy climbed the stairs, then crawled into bed with Cleo curled up next to her.  She slept like a log until her alarm went off.

Time to get up.

 She wandered through her condo apartment to the kitchen. After the last passion filled nights, coffee was definitely in order. She started brewing a pot of coffee.

On her way to the bathroom, Sandy pressed the play button on her blinking answering machine. Hearing her mother’s voice, she decided to shower. She was meeting Aden at the gym at 10:30 after he dropped his kids off at their therapy appointment.  Sandy washed, moisturized, and blew dry her hair. She was slipping on her bathrobe when her mother’s voice stopped talking on the answering machine.  Sandy flipped the machine off on her way back to the kitchen.

Taking a long drink of coffee, Sandy leaned against the kitchen counter to wait for her mother to call on her ten o’clock break.

“Hi Mom.” Sandy answered the call on the first ring.

“Sandy!” Her mother exclaimed as if they hadn’t spoken in years. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Mom. How are you?”

“Worried about you, dear,” her mother said.  “I tried to call you this weekend….”

“I just got your messages,” Sandy said.

“Clogged up your machine again,” her mother chuckled.

Sandy let the silence lag. Her mother only called for specific reasons.  If she waited, her mother would get around to what she wanted.

“Elsa called.” Her mother’s voice was breezy, but the phone line echoed a chorus of ‘Sandy screwed up.’ “She said that she saw you with a man at the Avenue Grill on Friday night. Do you have a new boyfriend?”

“Yep.”

“Well, Elsa said he was older than you and seemed to have a lot of money - nice watch, fancy car, paid cash. She said she walked by your table three times. She wanted to meet the man but you never even looked up.”

“I don’t remember her.”

Sandy took a drink of coffee. Elsa was her mother’s oldest and nosiest friend. Who knows if Elsa actually saw Sandy or if she heard it from someone else who heard it from someone who….

“Elsa said that he was holding your hand. Even through dinner! Holding your hand.  She thought that you were already… intimate with that man.  You know, Sandy, a man like that only dates young girls for one thing.”

“What’s that, Mom?”

“You haven’t let him… touch you already have you?”

Sandy didn’t respond.

“Oh Sandy.” Her mother’s voice dripped with disappointment. “A man like that…. You have to string him along.  You don’t want to end up like Jill do you?”

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

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Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(part six) 

Monday morning 9 AM

“You wanted to see me?” Jacob asked.

In an attempt to look like he was working, he sat behind a desk. Zonked by the acupuncture needles, he could barely keep his eyes open. Aden sat in a chair next to him and Blane stood behind him.  Sam Lipson stood to the side of the desk. If Jacob fell over, he was pretty sure one of them would catch him.

“You have NO RIGHT! NO RIGHT at all,” Honey said. She stood in front of the desk. “I… I….”

Honey collapsed into a chair to cry. While she looked like her mother and older sister, she was almost an exact opposite. She wore blue jeans, work boots and a button down blue shirt with “Lipson Construction” stitched on the pocket. Her white blond hair was pulled back in a simple pony tail.

“What happened?” Sam asked. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Honey, we don’t have any idea what’s going on. Can you tell us?”

“Mom told us last night… the whole thing… about the trusts, I mean.” She popped to her feet and loomed over the desk. “And I don’t give a CRAP about any trust. I don’t want your money. And just because my father is in prison and my mother is an  idiot and my sister is a jerk. None of that has anything to do with me. You can’t FIRE ME because of them!”

“Fire you?” Jacob asked. “Who fired you?”

“YOU DID,” Honey screamed. “And it’s so UNFAIR. I’ve worked really hard and I’m really good on the roads. Everyone likes me. AND I’M NOT GIVING THE NAME BACK.”

She crossed her arms and plopped back down in the chair.

“Dad?” Jacob asked. Sam shook his head.

“Aden?” Jacob asked. Aden shrugged. Jacob knew that Aden was against hiring Honey when she graduatedfrom high school. But Honey had proved to be a great employee. She worked really hard, never complained and had become integral part of a road team. Jacob squinted his eyes at Aden to ask if Aden had fired her while Jacob was in the hospital. Aden shook his head.

“Blane?” Jacob turned to see Blane looking at Honey like she was insane. Blane had such bad experiences with the step-whore that he refused to speak to Honey.

“Honey, we don’t have any idea what’s going on,” Jacob said. “This is my first day back.  Can you slow down and tell us what’s going on?”

“Oh,” Honey said. “You don’t?”

The men shook their heads at her.

“Oh,” Honey said again. “I’m still not giving the name back.  Sam’s the only Dad I ever had.”

“Ok, we have that in common,” Jacob said. “He’s the only Dad I’ve ever had too.”

Honey gave Jacob a watery smile.

“What happened today, Honey?” Sam asked. “You started to tell us. Your Mom told you about the trusts last night. And….”

“I was asked to report to Human Resources. I figured I was getting fired, so I just came here.” The young woman stuck her chin out in stubborn defiance. “You want to fire me, you have to do it to my face.”

“OH SHIT!” Blane exclaimed.  He flipped through a stack of papers.  Pulling out packet of papers, he slipped it in front of Jacob. “Sorry Jake. It’s in the stack of papers to sign.” 

“We haven’t figured out how to sign the papers yet.” Blane gave Honey a weak smile. “He can’t hold a pen and….”

Jacob looked at the papers.

“You’ve been approved for the scholarship program, Honey,” Jacob said. He flipped through the papers. “Wow, your high school grades are excellent. I had no idea you did so well.”

“Your mom told me that, ‘Every day, we must work hard, take every opportunity and suck the marrow out of life’,” Honey said. “I do that. Every day. Suck the marrow. But I don’t actually suck marrow out of bones. I tried that? And it was kind of gross.”

“Yeah, it’s gross.” Jacob wrinkled his nose. Aden and Blane nodded as if they also had tried marrow sucking. “You know how this works?”

Honey shook her head. 

“I just want to go to college. And I want to pay for it myself. I mean, Mom said that Dad would pay for it, but I want to do it myself. But I can’t afford it so I applied. That’s like doing it yourself, isn’t it?”

“Very much so,” Aden said. “You have to work full time, and go to school. I mean it’s a lot but that’s how I paid for college and my MBA.”

“Me too,” Blane said. “Only Jake had the free ride.”

“You have to pay for the first semester.” Jacob kept talking as a way of ignoring Blane’s comment as the ride never felt very free. “You can take whatever you want. If your grades are good, like over a B, we reimburse you.”

“Oh,” Honey said. “I can’t pay for the first semester. I had to replace my car and my apartment….”

“I’ll give you the money,” Sam said.

“If you give me money, then, you’ll have to give money to….”

“I’ll do it,” Val said. She was standing in the doorway. “I’ll give you the money. And I’m Ok if you keep the name.”

Honey jumped to her feet. Valerie had never spoken to her. In fact, she hadn’t ever been in the same room as her famous actress step-sister. 

“And he’s the only Dad I’ve ever had too.” Val nodded. Walking forward, she held her hand out. “I’m Valerie Lipson.”

Honey shook Val’s hand.

“Thanks,” Honey said. 

“You’re a part of the Lipson family,” Val said. “I… I’m glad to meet you….”

Honey beamed at Valerie.

“Finally,” Sam said.

Denver Cereal continues on Monday….

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(part five)

“They’re both great girls,” Blane said. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

“I know. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and…,” Jacob said.  “God, Blane, that’s great.”

“We’ll keep them in for twenty minutes or so,” Blane said. “Then we’ll do it again this afternoon. When we can, we’ll start some of the salves on those scars.”

“Thanks, Blane. Really.”

“Well, shit, Jacob,” Blane said. “You got me off the streets, gave me a place to live when I needed it,  paid for my school, fed me, gave me this job,  even take care of me when I’m sick…. This is the least I can do.”

“You’re family,” Jacob said.

“Speaking of family,” Blane said, “your step-sister is waiting to see you. Sorry, I told her that it would be a while. Then I forgot her.”

“Which step sister?”

“Honey. The awful one is in Thailand. I made sure that she and that tool got on the plane myself,” Blane said. His face flushed bright red with rage. “Bitch. Can you believe….”

“Getting angry only makes you sick.” Jacob put his hand on Blane’s forearm. “Did Dad give you the divorce papers?”

“No, I have them,” Aden said coming back into the room.  “No anger, Blane.”

Blane nodded. He walked to the window to calm down. The virus had injured his liver so that every time he was enraged, he got very sick.

“Promise me this,” Blane said. “That’s going to happen for me… what you have with Jill… what Aden has with Sandy.”

“Celia said that when you were better, you would find love,” Jacob said.

“And you?”

“What would I know?” Jacob said as if he didn’t know what Blane was talking about.

“Fuck you Jacob Marlowe,” Blane said. “You have this gift and you won’t share it?”

“Sorry, force of habit,” Jacob said. “I don’t know how to describe what I see. I see you with a family that is your family. Children, love, and very happy. But I also see you not sick. No HIV. No Hep C. Nothing.”

“So it will happen?” Blane said.

Aden put his hand on Blane’s shoulder. Blane turned to look at him.

“He’s saying you will find love and more,” Aden said. “But first, we have to get you well. No anger.”

Blane nodded his head.

“Family problem number one? Honey Lipson. Or family problem number two? Your father’s ridiculous divorce papers,” Blane asked.

“Is Dad still here?” Jacob asked.

“I’ll get him,” Blane said. “Should I get Honey?”

“Let’s talk to her when Dad’s here,” Jacob said.  “Is she….”

“She’s been crying,” Blane said. “She seems very upset.”

Jacob nodded. “Family problem number One.”

“Coming up,” Blane said.

~~~~~~~~

Jill pressed open the side door. The Castle buzzed with activity and various Lipson employees. She looked longingly at the apartment door, but turned into the Castle living room.  She was supposed to….

She stopped walking.  She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Time for a mental list.

Laundry first. Move out? She grimaced.  She and Jacob had argued about it last night and this morning. She thought she should return to her apartment. Jacob begged her to stay.

Jill sighed.

Groceries? No, they have groceries delivered.  Val asked her to…. God, rich people live in some foreign land. Who knew that groceries could be delivered?

List of groceries! That’s right, that’s what Val needed.

Jill was meeting Sandy at her condo in… three hours for a girl’s day of hair styling and….

“Excuse me,” A woman wearing inexpensive but professional dress said. “Are you Jill? Jillian Roper?”

“I am,” Jill said.

Lawyer? No, Jacob’s lawyers were expensive. They’d wear better shoes.

“Oh great. Mr. Marlowe said you were coming back….”

“Here I am,” Jill said. Jill smiled at the woman.

The woman’s voice was professional but a little rude. Maybe she was a lawyer.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Patti,” the woman said. “I am work in Human Resources at Lipson Construction? Mr. Marlowe has some papers for you to sign.”

“Papers?”

“Insurance papers? For you and Katherine?”

“Insurance?”

The woman blinked, blushed, then said, “You have no idea what I’m talking about or who I am.”

Jill shook her head.

Patti laughed. She put her hand on Jill’s arm.

“We had this idea…. Mr. Marlowe’s never even dated anyone,” Patti said. “Then all of a sudden, there’s a girl and child and well…. When Blane told us to get this together, well, we thought….”

“Gold digger?” Jill asked.

“Please don’t tell him. He’ll be furious,” Patti said. “Is he really adopting your daughter?”

“He wants to,” Jill said.

“He’s great with kids. He’s like an uncle to all the Lipson kids. He stops by the school to read to them at least once a week.  Will Katy go to the school?”

“What school?”

“Let’s start by getting these papers signed.”

“Insurance?”

“Health, dental, life, extended care,” Patti said. “For you and Katherine.”

Patti looked at Jill’s confused face then smiled.

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“A cell phone?”

“Mr. Marlowe has a new phone for you,” Patti said. “Come on. I’ll explain everything.”

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(part four)

Monday morning, 8:12 A.M.

“Ouch! Shit, Blane,” Jacob said. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Blane was inserting acupuncture needles around Jacob’s sutures. When he wasn’t working as Jacob’s assistant, Blane was a student at the Colorado School of Traditional Chinese Medicine. Three years into a Chinese Medical Doctor degree, he spent had the last week researching the right herbs, salves and points to accelerate Jacob’s healing. Not quite fluent in Chinese, yet, Blane was still a star pupil.

“Ya ‘cuz,” Blane said with the mock Hispanic accent he used to drive Jacob crazy. “Dis guy, he said to try dis thing and I figured….”

“This hurts,” Jacob said.

“You could just take your pain medication,” Aden said.

“Fuck you too,” Jacob said to Aden.

Aden laughed at Jacob. They were sitting in a small office at the Castle. They had spent the morning making sure every site manager had what he or she needed to get the job done today.  Lipson Construction was humming like a well oiled engine. 

Except for it’s President, Jacob Marlowe. 

Although healing, his week old shoulder injury, and multiple surgeries, left him at half his capacity. Blane thought his acupuncture wonder might be able to help. At least ease some of the desperate pain.

“Hi,” Jill said. She poked her head in the door. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not if you’ve heard a few swear words before,” Aden said. He opened the door for Jill. “I’m going to check on my kids. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Katy wanted to say ‘good-bye’ before she went to school,” Jill said.  She came into the room carrying three year old, Katy, on her hip. Pointing to the hundreds of needles in Jacob’s shoulder and neck, she added, “Oooh, that doesn’t look good.”

“Mommy? He’s touching the white gauze,” Katy said.  “Uncle Blane?  Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Good question,” Jacob said.

“Hi sweetie,” Blane said.  He came around the chair to kiss Katy on the cheek. “I’m trying to help your….”

“Daddy,” Jacob said.

Blane beamed like the Cheshire Cat. He had been after Jacob about Katy since Trevor abandoned them.  He knew what it was like to be abandoned. And he didn’t want anything bad to happen to sweet Katy.

“I’m helping your Daddy get better.”

“My Daddy needs help,” Katy said.

“Yes, he does,” Jacob said.  

Jacob held his left arm out and Jill set Katy in his lap. Katy gently hugged him. She kissed his cheek.

“I have to go to school,” Katy said. 

“See you this afternoon,” Jacob said.

Holding Jill’s hand, Katy was almost to the door when she ran back. She climbed onto Jacob’s lap then whispered in his ear.  Jacob flushed, held her close then kissed her cheek.  She jumped off his lap and ran to Jill.  Jill picked her up.  Katy waved ‘good-bye’ before Jill closed the door behind them.

“What was that?” Blane asked.  He returned to putting needles into Jacob.

“She said that she loved me.” Jacob’s eyes filled. “It’s like a dream.”

“I told you. She’s a great kid,” Blane said.  “Ok, one more.  That should….”

Jacob felt a whoosh of relief. His pain had all but vanished.

“Wow.” 

“They’re both great girls,” Blane said. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

“I know. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and…,” Jacob said.  

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(part three) 

“You’re asking me to broadcast untruths?” Her voice betrayed her indignation.

The General stopped running.  The group of men and dogs stopped running.  A bird’s call broke the sudden silence in the lane. He turned to look at her.

“No, I am asking you to treat a true hero with the respect he deserves.  He’s not a public speaker or even avery good poker player. He’s too straight of a guy.  His story is true and deserves to be heard.”

“And these details?”

“Are sensitive.”

“You’re saying that he’s been coached. I’ll notice the coaching because he’s such a straight forward guy.”

The General started running again. They ran in silence while she processed his request.

“I won’t throw national security at you. However, I would not ask if people’s lives were not at stake,” he said.  “We can pull the interview. There was a suggestion to disrupt the satellite feed during your transmission of the show. A few well placed individuals, including myself, would like the world to hear Roper’s story.”

“With the details removed?”  

“With a few details removed.”

“And the satellite feed? I don’t want to interview some guy and have it not go out.”

“A few high level people have used their authority to allow the interview with…”

“A few details removed.” She finished his sentence.

“Exactly. These people will be with Roper when you do the interview. You might notice them, but probably not.”

“If I do this, will you come on my show?” She asked.  “Talk about the war? The soldiers?”

“You’ve asked before.”

“I’ve asked for five years,” she said.

“Treat Roper with the respect he deserves and I’ll seriously consider it.”

She nodded.

“I need to get back to the desert,” the General said.  “Do we have an agreement?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

The General gave a low whistle and the soldiers closed the circle. Within moments, she held the leashes of her dogs.  Before they were out of earshot she shouted:

“Sir?”

The General stopped running and turned in her direction.

“Who is Michael Roper?” She yelled.

“He’s married to Valerie Lipson,” he said. Laughing, he added, “Enjoy your Pulitzer.”

The men picked up the pace. Within moments, she was alone on the quiet lane.  She ran for another mile then turned for home.  Arriving home, her dog trainer took the dogs to feed and water them. She was about to head upstairs when she saw something slip under her front door. 

Picking it up, she ripped open the manila envelope to find a single sheet of paper.  Near the bottom, scrawled in a man’s handwriting was a note that said: ‘For background on Roper’.  The sheet contained ten names, home phone numbers and private email addresses of top level people in government or retired military. There was even a curator at the Denver Art Museum. One name was someone she had begged to interview. More than once.

Looks like Valerie Lipson’s secret husband was more interesting than she thought.

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(part two) 

Monday Morning, 6:30 AM
Outside Chicago, IL

 A small woman began jogging down the driveway of her estate home with a few of her dogs.  No matter what her hectic schedule demanded, she loved the early morning quiet with her dogs. They settled into a steady jog down the driveway. Turning onto the quiet lane in front of her home,  she heard a sound behind her. 

Boots on the pavement.  

Like something out of a movie, she could hear at least five people running in boots behind her. And they were fast.  

Turning to look, she saw a group of short haired men wearing green t-shirts, digital fatigue pants and tactical boots running toward her.  A man ran in the very middle of this pack of these men.  

As they approached, her dog pack skittered uncomfortably. These men were twice her size, fit and muscular. Her mind shifted to the horror stories her guests had told on her own talk show. Glancing around, she realized how alone, how vulnerable, she was.

The men caught up with her then slowed their pace to match hers.

“Would you mind if we take your dogs?” A fresh faced young man asked.

“I….”

“The General would like a private conversation,” a second man said.  “We won’t harm them. Just take them so that you might talk.”

Before she could say anything, the young men reached for the leashes.  She was about to call her dogs back when she caught sight of the man in the center of the pack. Stunned, she stopped running.  

Standing in the middle of the quiet lane, she gawked at the US Army General.

“Shall we continue?” The General asked.  

Each young man took a dog. They separated out in to a large circle giving just enough space for a quiet conversation.  When the General started running again, she joined his jogging pace.

“I wanted to have a private word with you about Michael Roper,” the General said.  “It’s my understanding that you’ll interview him this week.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.  

She cursed herself for not reviewing her schedule before leaving the house.  In her mind, she flipped through her interviews and shows planned for this week. 

Who was Michael Roper?

“He’s going to tell you a story that… well, could win you a Pulitzer Prize.”

“But it’s not true?”

“No, ma’am.  Michael Roper will tell you a true story and one that needs to be heard, especially at this time. However….”

The General fell silent.  He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.

“Sir?”

“I don’t doubt that you’ll notice a few details in Roper’s story are… fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?”

“Unclear.  I’m certain you ‘ll notice that he’s covering something or possibly diverting your attention.  He’s not an experienced liar.  We expect that you might notice areas of ….”

“Sir?”

“Michael Roper is a true hero. He saved the lives of at least seven men and possibly more.  He suffered unspeakable things during his service and he has never asked for acclaim or reward. In fact, he says that he was just doing his job.  His story is absolutely one hundred percent true, even if the details are a little muddy.”

“You’re asking me to broadcast untruths?” Her voice betrayed her indignation.

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….