THE POLLYANNA MODULE
Amanda saw Francine before Francine saw her. She was pushing a cart loaded with luggage and two bulky, hard-sided cases, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. Her blonde hair, usually so soft and perfectly styled, had the flat, dry dullness of someone who'd been on a plane too long, and her normally pristine clothing was rumpled and strangely casual.
Francine caught sight of Amanda standing outside Customs and her expression changed to one of surprise, then confusion. Amanda gave her a little wave, as if by way of apology.
"Hi," she said, as Francine approached. "Duffy was busy so you get me instead."
"I thought you weren't back until next week."
Amanda shrugged. "I'm cleared for light duty, so here I am. I've already been back for a week." She glanced down at the bags. "Though those don't look light."
"Oh. Ha. No, but we can get a porter to help." Francine chewed her lip, which for a change held no trace of lipstick. "Did you bring your car?"
"No, my mother needed it today," Amanda said, waiting for Francine to make a crack. When none came, she continued. "I have one from the pool. Some kind of van."
Francine wrinkled her nose. "A van?"
Amanda nodded. "A minivan. I have no idea why it's in the pool but it is and it's what Leatherneck gave me. But at least it's clean this time." She gestured to Francine's baggage. "We'll have plenty of room for that."
She had been surprised to discover Francine was away on assignment when she'd started work again. Lee hadn't mentioned it, and when she'd brought it up he'd grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement, and said if she wanted a breath of icy air he'd heard the equipment lab was testing some kind of new cryogenic technology. Amanda had rolled her eyes in exasperation, and then Lee, serious suddenly, had told her Francine had left the day before on an overseas assignment, which probably had everything to do with her ex-fiance's appearance on — and then rapid departure from — the scene a couple of weeks before.
"I can't believe they sent you on an airport run," Francine said as Amanda pulled up to the payment booth a few minutes later.
"They didn't send me," Amanda said, handing her receipt to the attendant and fishing out a five-dollar bill. "I volunteered."
"You did?"
Amanda sighed. "I couldn't stand being in the office one more minute. Everyone has been acting like I've either had a lobotomy or I'm going to break in two if they give me a complex task."
Francine grimaced. Amanda knew the frustration was clear in her voice.
"Anyway. Do you want to stop at your place first? There's time if you want to drop off your luggage or freshen up or whatever."
Francine sighed. "No, it's okay. If I get a look at my bed I'll never want to leave." She rubbed her eyes. "But thanks."
Amanda shrugged.
"It's good to see you up and around again," Francine said suddenly. "You look much better than you did last time I saw you."
A month ago, Amanda realized. She winced a little at the memory. Francine had caught her after a particularly rigorous therapy session, when pain and exhaustion had been nipping at her heels. She'd probably been a little stand-offish, though she hadn't meant to be, and she suspected it had left Francine feeling off-balance. In the last year or so things between the two of them had been much easier — friendly, even. Amanda had always respected Francine professionally but Francine had, at the beginning, been more than clear that she did not return the sentiment. But as they'd gotten to know each other and it had become clear Amanda wasn't going away anytime soon, their mutual perceptions had changed. Funny how it had taken the two of them getting locked in a freezer to for things to thaw, but Amanda thought of that day as one that had started a change between them.
"I've had nowhere to go but up," she commented wryly.
"That wasn't what I meant," Francine said, with just the merest hint of irritation in her voice.
Amanda gave in to a smile, then. "I know what you meant."
"What happened out there in California?" Francine asked. "Did they remove your Pollyanna module?"
"No, but it has a big hole in it," Amanda said.
"Well, I suppose you've had the same conversation about fifty times this week, so I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."
Francine was right, she'd had the same conversation fifty times that week. The first day back, Amanda had spent half an hour in the hallway outside the break room, listening to her coworkers tell her how good she looked and how the place hadn't been the same. It had been nice, at first, but after day four the sentiment had worn thin, and even Billy had made a wry joke about sending her to a meeting with an escort in case she got caught in a group hug in the hallway.
"It's okay," Amanda protested. "I'm just in a mood. Please don't go soft on me, Francine. I need one person to just be their usual self."
"Well, I've been up for twenty-four hours straight, I had the middle seat in coach on a twelve-hour flight, the guy next to me had breath like a crypt keeper and I missed dinner reservations at Aubergine last night that I've been waiting six months for. So I might not be my usual self, but I won't go soft on you."
Amanda laughed, then. "That's exactly what I was looking for." She cast Francine a sideways glance. "Did they feed you on the plane?"
"Not really. I mean, the usual, but it wasn't very satisfying. Why?"
"I have a craving for the Pie Plate, is all."
"What's the Pie Plate?"
"I'll show you." Amanda grinned and moved across two lanes of traffic. She hadn't been hungry at lunch but now all she could think about were their crinkle fries, hot and salty from the deep fryer, and maybe a slice of pie afterwards.
A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot and made sure they parked the van where they could see it, through the big picture windows that ran along the front of the restaurant. Inside, they sat at a booth right near the window — the place was practically empty and their usual waitress, Brenda, was at the table with menus and her coffee pot before Francine had her jacket off. Amanda ordered her fries and Francine ordered a hot roast-beef sandwich, because it was the special and the waitress assured them it'd be out in less than five minutes.
"What kind of light duty are you doing now, anyway?" Francine asked as they ate.
Amanda groaned. "Filing. Typing up Lee's reports. I drew the line at transcription. I think Beaman was a little shocked, actually."
Francine frowned. "Ugh." She ate a forkful of mashed potato. "They have people for that."
Amanda smiled, ruefully. "I know. I used to be one."
"They should use you somewhere else."
"Billy wants me to work with Analysis," Amanda said, dipping a fry into a little pot of mayonnaise. She'd tried it that way once on a trip to Belgium and had never gone back to ketchup, not even after her boys had informed her that mayo on fries was disgusting.
Francine straightened in her seat. "You should! Are you going to?"
"I don't know. They're all so… seasoned. I think they'd hate having me around." Amanda didn't want to admit the idea fascinated her. It was something she hadn't really considered until Billy had brought it up — she'd always assumed she'd train as a field agent, until she couldn't. But he'd asked her to think of it as a kind of job shadowing, and he'd insisted her skills were well-suited to the work.
"They won't," Francine said. "You're a warm body and they're short."
Amanda laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Just do it, all right? You'll be great at it, and it'll be good for your career." Francine frowned as a piece of meat fell off her fork, onto her plate. She speared it with her fork again and popped it into her mouth. "I wish I'd done that early on."
"You could still do it."
Francine shook her head. "I'm on a different path now."
"Future section chief." Amanda smiled as she said it. She knew some people scoffed at Francine's ambition but she'd come to admire it. Francine worked hard, and Amanda knew that much of Francine's early resentment of her stemmed from the mistaken perception that Amanda didn't have to.
Francine laughed. "Maybe. If I'm lucky. Probably not, though. I'll probably take a bullet in the wrong place and be forcibly retired." She caught herself suddenly, and gave Amanda an apologetic look. "Sorry. That was insensitive of me."
Amanda reached for another fry. "Don't be. It's fine. Though I don't recommend it, personally."
Francine sighed. She looked morose for a second, enough that Amanda pointed at her with the french fry and tried to look stern.
"Desmond, what did we just talk about?"
Francine frowned. "Sorry, sorry." Her gaze drifted out the window, and she looked more thoughtful than sad, but Amanda was still thrown off by the absence of her usual edge. It wasn't like Francine to walk back her pointed observations or snarky asides. "How's all that going, though? The recovery?" she asked, turning her cornflower-blue eyes toward Amanda again.
"I'm a regular miracle," Amanda said, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "Unless you're asking me to do up my own zipper, reach something on the top shelf, or run around the block."
"Those things will come."
"So they say." Amanda pushed her plate away, toward Francine, and dragged on the straw of her Sprite. She didn't want to talk about her lack of shoulder mobility or all the pretty dresses she'd never wear again. She was grateful to be there but she'd reached her capacity for self-reflection. "What about your date?"
"What date?"
"To Aubergine. Did he take a rain check?"
"Oh." Francine sighed. "I guess."
"You don't sound very excited about it."
"I'm not. I really just wanted to go to the restaurant. The actual date was secondary." Francine popped a fry into her mouth. "I even bought the perfect dress for it. It's kind of loose, so if I ate the six-course meal I wouldn't be praying for death by the entree."
Amanda laughed aloud, then, and so did Francine. She wondered when Francine had softened around the edges, which made her wonder when she'd hardened in the middle. "That sounds great," she said, as reached for the dessert menu.
"Yeah. Oh well."
"Did you put yourself back on the list?"
"For reservations? No." She paused, tapping her fingers on the table. "You know they have this chocolate silk souffle on the menu that's supposed to be amazing."
Amanda nodded, scanning the menu. "Well, this place is no Aubergine but it does have a chocolate pie, if you need a consolation prize."
Francine reached for the menu, shaking her head as if in disbelief. "Amanda, how long have we known each other? You should know by now that chocolate is never a consolation prize."
