The turtles retired to catch a few hours sleep. Before they left the room, I asked about the payphone stuck in the corner of the living room. I had originally taken it to be some sort of funk art, but Donatello assured me it worked fine, though it did require two quarters. "Phone company thinks it's still at the 38th street station," he told me.

I called Adeline Jackson and she sounded very glad to hear from me. She said she had been worried when I hadn't called and that she had wanted to have lunch with me, today if possible. She was happy with the last chapter I had sent her and was eager to meet me in person. That gave me a warm feeling inside, which only added to the warm feeling that finally came from the early morning conversation with the turtles and Splinter. It was taking a while to sink in, but I was realizing that despite everything I had told them about me, they accepted me. Maybe even cared about me. This was important,partly because I desperately needed them. But the other part was that even though I was worried about the Ninja aspect, and the violence I had already seen they were capable of, I really liked them.

I told Adeline I'd have to get back to her about lunch. The truth was, I had to wait for the turtles to wake up to help me navigate around the sewers. I still had no idea which part of New York I was underneath. I curled up on Splinter's couch and watched TV. with the volume off until I dozed off.

The sounds of kitchen clatterings awakened me. Raphael and Michaelangelo emerged from behind the beaded curtain with a box of cereal, a hunk of old-looking cheese, and half a bag of chips. I peered over the edge of the couch. "I guess it's time for me to go shopping."

"That, or the back alley diner of your choice," answered Raphael, his mouth full of chips.

"I don't think Lia's gonna like our usual method of food procurement," said Donatello, coming out of the sleeping passage with a small speaker in his hand. Like the others, he was out of uniform, unmasked and without gear. He sat down in front of one of several computer towers on the floor and began unscrewing a set of wires in the back. "I think I've figured out what's wrong with this thing..."

"How do you guys eat, anyway?" I asked, sitting up and stretching.

"Same way as anyone in this town without a paycheck," said Raphael.

"Dumpster diving," clarified Michaelangelo.

"Oh, no. Really?" I said without thinking.

"You got a problem with that?" challenged Raphael.

"No, no, of course not. It's just-"

"You can really score some great stuff," said Michaelangelo, shaking the box of Cap'n Crunch.

"I know...I mean, I imagine so, in a big city like this...all I meant was...oh, I just want to get you guys what you really want."

"You're not old enough to," said Raphael.

If he was trying to make me feel bad, he was succeeding.

"C'mon, Raph," said Michaelangelo. "Lighten up."

Leonardo came into the living room from the direction of what I took to be Splinter's room. "Hey," he said by way of greeting.

"S'up, Leo?" asked Michaelangelo.

"We need to talk about this proposed shopping trip," Leonardo came over and sat next to me on the couch. "The thing is, after this morning's encounter with Hulk Hogan, it's obvious he has a much better idea of Lia's whereabouts than we had hoped. And since we don't know how he came by this information, I think we need to be very cautious with where we let you go."

"Hulk Hogan?" I asked.

Leonardo's face slid into a half-smile.

"That's true," said Donatello from his corner on the floor. "There's that little market down in Chinatown. You know, the only one without dead ducks hanging in the window. We can cover both the front and rear doors at that place."

"There's something else I need to do, too," I said. "I need to make a luncheon date with Adeline, my publisher-"

"A luncheon date?" repeated Raphael. "And what are we supposed to do, wait in the cab for you? Maybe sign autographs? What the hell is this, Leo? Didn't I tell you?" Raphael was on his feet and in two steps standing behind us. "Didn't I say this? In two weeks this place is gonna be crawling with nosy people, or cops, or somebody, and we are gonna be down the road, homeless again-" Raphael turned away, waving his arms. "Not that I mind, I like a challenge, a change of pace, a little variety to keep things from getting too boring!" He turned and slammed his hands on the back of the couch behind us. "Leo, are you listening to me?"

"It's a little hard not to, Raph," said Leonardo with a tone of studied patience.

"Lady," Raphael turned to me. "We are not on anyone's social registry, an' we don't do the frickin' Waldorf Astoria!" He turned away and stomped into the kitchen. "Maybe your publisher Adeline would like to go dumpster diving!" he shouted from behind the beaded curtain. Michaelangelo, having finished off the Cap'n Crunch, went to work on Raphael's bag of chips.

I looked back at Leonardo. I know my eyes were wide as saucers and my heart was pounding.

"Don't worry about him," Leonardo shook his head. "Some things just seem to set him off. But in all honesty, I don't know how you're going to be able to do that, meet her for lunch. I have my doubts about you going shopping. That deal at the hotel was pretty much a disaster. All those goons got a real good look. Don...?"

"Yeah, but we know that market, Leo," answered Donatello from his contorted position on the floor, one screwdriver in his mouth, another in his hand. "The main problem at the hotel was we didn't know the fourth floor was really the fifth floor..."

"I know, but that's not the point," said Leonardo. He leaned back and looked up. "I just have a bad feeling about this."

"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Raphael coming back into the living room. "Leo's got a bad feeling so nowwebetter all pay attention! Never mind if any of us have bad feelings-"

"Come on, Raph," Leo returned, perhaps a little condescendingly. "Can we please try to work together on this thing?"

"Oh, yeah, Leo, oh yeah! And you are all of that!" Raphael left again, this time down the sleeping passage.

"Ok, Lia," Leonardo turned back to me. "What is it exactly you want to do?"

Run and hide, was my first thought. Instead I asked, very quietly, "Why does he hate me so much?"

Leonardo started to say something, but Michaelangelo broke in. "He doesn't hate you. I think he likes you. He wouldn't mess with your head if he didn't like you." I turned to look back at him to see if Mike was now messing with my head. "Really," he said.

"Ok, shh," I whispered. "I don't want him to hear me."

"He's already heard you," said Leonardo. "Our hearing seems to be a little sharper than most people are accustomed to."

"Really"? I asked. "You think he heard me?"

"Yeah, he heard you," grunted Raphael, suddenly right behind us again. He came around, flopped down onto the over-stuffed chair next to me, and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Where," asked Leonardo again, "are you supposed to meet for lunch?"

I looked at Raphael, afraid to say anything. His unmasked face was deadpan and betrayed nothing. To Leonardo I said, "Adeline mentioned the Sinclair..."

"Oh yeah," Leonardo ran a hand over his eyes. "That's up there...what? East 47th ?" He seemed tired.

"Ya know, Leo," said Donatello. "It's probably worth mentioning that one of the things that we agreed to do for Lia was make sure Skypilot doesn't stop her from completing her book. And if we're curtailing her actions out of over-caution, he's winning."

"Yeah, I think you're right, Don. I'm just trying to think how we're gonna do this. There's that culvert by the little pond, but there's still a block of downtown to cross..."

"No, no, look," Michaelangelo came over holding a tourist guide book. "It's right here, at the edge of the park-"

Raphael took the book from Mike's hands. "It's right here, across the street," he pointed. "And here's that storm drain by the restrooms. You remember those kids that time got stuck in there? There's a gardener's shed behind the fence here, an' the restrooms, plus trees with leaves. We can watch the front of the restaurant from here, or there, or lock ourselves in the men's room and watch from the windows. There. You all happy now?" He handed the book to Leonardo.

"Thanks, Raph," grinned Leo.

XXX

Adeline Jackson turned out to be strikingly beautiful; deep mahogany skin, sleek black hair, and startling light amber eyes. She wore a pale lavender business suit which made me feel frowzy in comparison in my one and only long skirt. We sat in the cool, quiet, restaurant overlooking Central Park, eating seafood salads and talking about my manuscript, and life in general.

"You have certainly been through a lot." Adeline looked out the window at the sharp, angular, skyline of Manhattan towering over the bright green of the trees below. "And you're still so young, with so much still ahead of you, career, family, all those possibilities." She smiled at me. "And you'll find a good man, if you want to, Lia."

"Oh," I shook my head. "No, I'm not looking."

"You don't think you'll get married again?" Adeline asked.

"No. Never." Of all my uncertainties, that was one thing I was sure of.

"Well, I understand. But you know, baby," Adeline reached her hand across the table and patted mine. "They're not all like him. There are good men out there. I'll tell you something, I was married to a good man, a wonderful man. He was lost in the Middle East, ten years ago, serving in the Marines, and I knew there would never be another man in my life. I just thought that part of my life was over. But you know, time does heal. And I have met someone, someone very interesting. And I don't know where it will go, but I know time does heal. Never say never."

I smiled at Adeline. "I'm happy for you," I said. "How did you meet him?"

"He's a writer. I meet a lot of writers," Adeline smiled back, her eyes alight.

XXX

Adeline Jackson took the elevator to the sixteenth floor of the Elizabeth Ford Building which housed the modest offices of JackDancer Publishing. Over the past ten years Adeline had built a reputation for her company by bringing a series of young and remarkably talented new writers to print. The primary genre she had worked in was fiction, and this book of Lia Hanrahan's was one of her first autobiographies, and certainly her first experience with metaphysics. Lia's style however, an unusual blend of poetry and prose, gave what could have been a very grim subject matter an almost dream-like quality. As Adeline had commented to the young writer, she was the living embodiment of her writing style: part fairy-child, part philosopher.

Adeline's secretary was not at the front desk, and no one appeared to be around. The door was unlocked and Adeline let herself in, thinking it odd that everything was left open. The computer's screen swam lazily with neon fish and the carved African masks stared sightlessly from the wall overhead.

Inside her bright office with it's huge picture window, rendering a close up view of more towering office buildings and their windows, Adeline threw her briefcase onto her desk. It felt so quiet, suddenly, without her secretary's music and conversation. Out of habit Adeline rolled her shoulders, feeling the tension in her neck and shoulders. She turned toward her window. This had been one busy week...

"Hi."

Adeline jumped with a cry and turned around "Oh! Oh my-!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you..."

"Oh, my God, Peter," Adeline pressed a hand over her heart. Her initial shock of hearing a man's voice in an office she thought was empty was replaced by the shock of seeing who it was. "I didn't hear you come in-"

"I am so sorry. I saw the door was open..." The tall, blond man before her looked abashed. "Well, I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to bring you these." He held out a bouquet of delicate blue and white flowers in a small crystal bowl. "And to thank you for the wonderful evening the other night."

"Peter, you are so sweet-oh, my those are Texas Bluebonnets! Where in the world in New York City did you manage to find Texas Bluebonnets?"

Peter shrugged non-commitally.

"Do you know," said Adeline taking the flowers, "when I was a little girl, I used to stay summers at my grandfather's ranch, and we picked Texas Bluebonnets, all of us girls..."

"Really?" asked Peter. He watched her as she gazed at the fragrant mass in her hands. "I was wondering if you know of any other nice restaurants? And if we might go to dinner again tomorrow night?"

"Now, you are in New York. If there's one thing we've got, it's nice restaurants." Adeline set the bowl on her desk.

"You'll be my guide, then?"

Adeline looked up at him, He was dressed in a casual suit, loosely cut, tie-less, long hair tied back in a ponytail. "I would love to," she smiled.

"Wonderful," Peter glanced around the office. "Well, look, I don't want to keep you, I know you're busy."

Adeline looked down at her desk. "Actually, I don't know how much more I'm going to get done today. I had a late lunch with one of my writers."

"Oh? Who?"

"Interesting young lady..." Adeline mused. "Delightful writer, really, with a fascinating story to tell."

"What's her name?" asked Peter lifting a geode paperweight on Adeline's desk. He smiled. "What makes her story so interesting? I've told you, I need all the help I can get."

"Well, have a seat, Peter, and I'll tell you about her."

"I've got a better idea. Let's go down to that bistro I saw on the corner, and you can tell me there."

Adeline smiled. "Twist my arm..."