Chapter 42AE

'Badass Miss DiPesto - Part II'

'The Dark Lord of Fundraising Demands Your Cash'

'Ain't Nobody Got Time for This!'

'Tarkin n' Talkin''

'Death Star for Dummies'

Title crawl:Not so long ago in a galaxy far, far away...

Title crawl: It is a dark time for the Galactic Military. The meek shall defend the office of the Dark Lord. The construction of a third Death Star is canceled. The former Imperial troops are driven out of their military strongholds on Geneosis, Hoth, and Tatooine. New Republic forces have taken over the bases to prevent Tarkin's tyrannical and power-hungry military plans from taking hold. Tarkin's bold attempts to form a coup have failed to overthrow Commander-In Chief Anakin Skywalker and his new regime. It is the meek who shall defend the office of the Dark Lord. Tarkin decides to take the next step to destroy Skywalker's reformed military by breaking down, what he believes is, the Dark Lord's weakest link: Executive Secretary Agnes DiPesto.

Miss DiPesto has a secret ally: Four-star General Lando Calrissian.

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord continues his couple's team building workshop by participating in another fund-raising event. Obsessed with completing these events with a profit and getting rid of the useless 'space junk' merchandise that is taking up his valuable time, the Dark Lord takes a few shortcuts by way of Jedi Mind tricks to generate the much needed cash for the Jedi parish. Jedi vow of poverty is getting the Jedi Order and the Jedi Coruscant Diocese nowhere fast. He believes that both should be run like a business. There is nothing wrong with making a profit! The irrepressible Dark Lord, obsessed with finding a quick way out of this charity event, has dispatched a handful of remote 'probes' into the far reaches of space...for a Sabacc game. He is on his mobile phone with one of his remote 'probes/contacts'.

"I want all the best players assembled for this tournament...what? Hell, yes I'm serious...I want to get out of this gig that my wife talked me into doing...what? Well, as soon as we raise enough cash...and then you can get some rest...hey, I need rest too! Couples therapy is a lot of work! This crap is exhausting...and if you tell anyone I'll destroy every misfit clone you have left in that arsenal on Kamino...listen, my life is important...I still have a military to run. What the heck do you do all day? My poor secretary is all alone fending off obnoxious demands of those scheming officers and I don't know if she'll survive the week. Gladys knew how to handle those fools…you know who I'm talking about…yeah…those idiots…I do a lot more than you do my cloned friend…I need to get back to my office soon or I'm going to start killing people and the cycle will start all over again and then I'll be right back in couple's therapy!…I'll tell you what it's like…We spend two hours a day talking about our feelings…and It's doing stuff with your wife like planting a garden and making bread in a cooking class…and more talking. We get 'effing' homework assignments. All I can say is you never want to wear black when you're working with flour…not flower, you moron! 'Flour'…the stuff you bake bread with...geez! What's wrong with you?...Did I do what? What are you talking about? Flours?...Ohhh…flowers!…We have flowers in our garden! She doesn't need anymore flowers. She says we don't communicate and that's why we're talking every damned day this summer…You would think she would run out of things to say? Hell No! She has one topic coming right after the other…Hell yeah; I'll listen because she'll tell the therapist. I'm expected to answer…yeah, I talk. That's none of your business!...We 'do' talk about important stuff…I love her, she loves me…What? I do not take her for granted. Where do you get off to lecture me about relationships? I don't see you with anybody…Yeah, that went well. So, getting back to this fundraising gig; I want you to round up the players for next week's game…because I'm a busy man and I will be out of town…None of your business…just get this game together. If you screw this up, heads will roll and they'll all be yours."

Meanwhile, just as the Dark Lord predicted, Miss DiPesto is fending off Tarkin and his insane military posse.

Several senior officers and one or two lower-ranking officers accompany the Grand Moff Wilhulf Tarkin. Tarkin decides he has the most influence to press Anakin's secretary to cooperate.

"Gentlemen, I think it is time we demonstrated the full power of the new space station. Set your course for Alderaan. This should get her to talk."

Miss DiPesto looks up at Tarkin. There is a confused expression on her face.

"But, I'm not from Alderaan."

"Oh…" A befuddled Tarkin turns to the two low-ranking officers behind him and barks out more orders. "Get Corporal Klinger in here immediately!"

"He's on duty on the C Level, sir. Another officer will arrive momentarily with a report."

Tarkin is increasingly frustrated with this situation. He turns to Miss DiPesto again. His stare is menacing.

"I will ask you once more Miss DiPesto, ring your boss."

"I cannot do that, sir. Mr. Skywalker is not receiving calls. "

"Where is he? Let me see his calendar!" He gestures with his bony white hand for her to turn the monitor around so he can see it.

Tarkin leans across the desk and tries to a glance at the plasma monitor. Agnes immediately activates the security screen. All Tarkin can see is a swirling images of the highlights from last season's Galaxies Opera. Tarkin gives her a stern look.

"Must I remind you who I am?"

"No sir, I am aware of 'whom' you are but instructions from my boss trump any request you may have. You will have to wait until he returns to the office. "

"And when will that be?"

Miss DiPesto responds in a slow, calm manner.

"Oooh, I can't say. He is on extended leave this summer."

Tarkin is outraged.

"Extended leave? First he's taking personal days and now he's on 'extended leave'?"

"Yes."

Admiral Motti shakes his head with icy disdain.

"What's he taking extended leave for?"

"It's personal, Admiral."

Motti's impatience is evident by the look on his face. He growls.

"Oh, this is preposterous!"

Motti's angry outburst elicits a quiet giggle from Miss DiPesto. Tarkin attempts to intimidate Miss DiPesto into cooperating fail dismally.

"I grow tired of asking this so it will be the last time: *Where* is your boss?"

"...Dantooine. They're on Dantooine."

He turns to Admiral Tagge who is standing behind him.

"There. You see, Admiral Tagge, she can be reasonable. Continue with the operation; you may fire when ready."

Miss DiPesto shouts back. This is the first time anyone has heard her raise her voice.

"WHAT?"

"You're far too trusting, Miss DiPesto. Dantooine is too remote to make an effective demonstration - but don't worry, we will deal with your boss soon enough. Get my communications officer in here now!"

The communications officer Lieutenant Cass hurries into the office. He is a thin young man with pale skin, platinum blond hair, and thick bushing eyebrows that make ridge of his forehead look caveman-like. He appears flustered as he waves a handful of papers. "Corporal Klinger is on Level C in the infirmary. They have incoming wounded from the Outer Rim Territories. Concerning the target, our scout ships have reached Dantooine. They found the remains of a Rebel base, but they estimate that it has been deserted for some time…possibly more than thirty years ago. They are now conducting an extensive search of the surrounding systems."

Tarkin rolls his eyes and shouts at the officer.

"We know that now! He's not on Dantooine! He's on vacation somewhere! We don't take vacation while the control of the galaxy is slipping through our fingers, do we, Lieutenant?"

"No sir." Lieutenant Cass wishes he were on vacation. Nothing good can come from this. He can feel the tension as Tarkin and the other senior officers plot to overthrow the Dark Lord. He has more bad news for Tarkin. ".…uhm…There's one more thing, sir… We sent a relay team to the new Death Star construction site…the laborers are gone. No one is working on it."

"What? That is nonsense; I've watched the construction myself. It's a bit behind schedule but it's coming along."

"That's the thing, sir. It's been shut down for some time, sir. The Death Star foreman is working on a new project on Corellia. The contractor's name is Dominic Jade of BanthaJadeco Construction. I believe he is related to Vic Jade the road-paving guy. He's got a new contract authorized by a…" The officer reads the bottom of one of the documents along the signature line. "The name is…s…oh, there's a 'K' at the end…Binks. We contacted Mr. Jade who says he hasn't had a construction crew at the Death Star since the spring. Then he used a few choice epithets and told us to stop calling him unless we want to 'sleep with the fishes'. After that strange conversation, we checked the military construction records. Any approvals concerning construction contracts would have come from this office, sir. The coordinates you have been using are useless, sir. It's a dummy control switch. It's not live. You were given a control version of the feed that is not online. The view you've been watching, sir is actually a loop, sir. Someone with basic computer knowledge would have been able to alter it. "

"She lied to us! This secretary is uncooperative!"

"So what are we going to do, sir? She'll never tell you anything."

"Terminate her... immediately!"

Motti, Tagge, and the two lower ranking officers look at Tarkin. The lower-ranking officers stand idly, not knowing what to do.

Tarkin turns away in a huff as if he is about to leave the office. Suddenly he returns to the desk. The nuna leather slippers that he is wearing make a squeaking sound against the Sullustan rug, a gift from the monks at the monastery where Anakin brought old man Palpatine for some spiritual cleansing. He leans across the desk until he is face-to-face with Miss DiPesto. She can smell the scent of his cologne. It is an ancient brand no longer sold in perfumeries or department stores. She figures he must have a stockpile of the old fragrance from Eriadu. If it ever smelled pleasant, it must have been decades ago because now it smells like moldy dust from a box left in the cellar too long. To Miss DiPesto, it reminds her of mint and fermented, moldy spices.

"As a matter of fact, I want you to tell your 'boss' that this situation will not stand. His refusal to communicate with the military brass and me will place him in a precarious position both politically and professionally. He still has to answer for the situation concerning Admiral Zaarin."

"Will that all be all or should I take notes?"

"For now. Mark my words, you and your boss will hear from me. The joint chiefs are meeting to discuss actions."

"So you're telling me that you and your cronies are plotting against him. I suppose I should start writing all this down. Are you sure you want to say all of this?" Miss DiPesto takes a legal pad out of her drawer and a pen from the penholder on her desk where the crystal dish of Paonga Minis used to be. She begins writing. "I don't think you want to test him."

Motti interjects, afraid of Tarkin's threats against the Dark Lord will mean another 'force choke' for him.

"We never said that…did we decide?"

Miss DiPesto twirls a lock of her wavy brunette hair as she sits at her desk. She is seemingly unfazed by Tarkin's threats.

"Well, gentlemen, shall I tell him of your intentions? I'm sure he already knows."

Tarkin is angry but he also, he is also thinking about the repercussions of starting a battle with the Dark Lord. It is a battle he will surely lose. Tarkin becomes defensive.

"That's not what I said. My, you are a bold one lately. "

"Well, that's what you implied, isn't it? You're sneaking around when he's out of the office. You're trying to change laws he has put into place. Might I be so bold as to remind you, Governor that the laws you seem so firmly against are for the benefit of the entire military. Shall I tell him about your intentions or will you?"

Tarkin sneers, almost half smiling, with contempt in response to Miss DiPesto's reply.

"I see he has been training his secretary to be disrespectful to superior officers. Your attitude is unacceptable."

"Oh, Mr. Skywalker is not responsible for my attitude. I know other people who are quite influential." Agnes opens her desk drawer and pulls out her purse. She is barely listening to Tarkin.

"Is that so? You won't last long here no matter who your boss is or who your 'influential 'friends' are."

She looks up from rummaging through the large red handbag.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Let's just say, it is a warning."

"Well, you don't have authorization to 'terminate' me. You have a nice day, Governor Tarkin."

Governor Tarkin clenches his teeth then storms out of the office. The other officers follow him. Miss DiPesto mumbles to herself as she finds what she wants. She mocks Tarkin's rant.

"What is his problem? 'Your attitude is unacceptable.' Old turkey face! Ain't nobody got time for that!"

Tarkin opens the office door pokes his head inside and looks at Miss DiPesto. He does not have the audacity to step inside again for fear that she will tell Anakin about the threats he made to her.

"Did you say something, Miss DiPesto?"

"No…No, Mr. Moff…Tarkin."

Tarkin finally leaves for good, slamming the door. He is frustrated and angry; but what seems to perturb him more is that Miss DiPesto has not addressed him properly since she was hired.

Miss DiPesto takes red lipstick out of her bag and touches up her lips. The phone rings.

"Oh, Hello General Calrissian…Yes, he did…He stormed in here with his henchmen…he just left…Ooh, let's see… he threatened me with bodily harm and then he said he was going to terminate me…Hah-hah-hah! I suppose that's true…he doesn't have the authority to terminate me and he can only kill me once…You're so funny…I tried, but I couldn't say it with him staring at me. Oh, I waited until he walked out the door…I thought he heard me when he opened the door again." She giggles…I can't say it now…I'm too embarrassed and you're making me laugh…okay…her it goes: 'Ain't nobody got time for that!' How was that? Really? Thank you. You know, it actually feels good to say it whether he heard me or not. I think he is scared of me. I never thought I would have the nerve to speak up to him. I guess I could call a couple of stormtroopers to guard the door but I feel secure here in the office by myself. I'm not worried about old 'prune-face' coming back. You would think that he would have the constitution of a nice old man but he's mean…Really? You think that's what he needs? Hah-hah-hah! General, you're so funny. I think it would be hilarious! Getting drunk might mellow him out a bit. Would you really do that? A case? Does he drink Hoth 45? Oooh, you just want to see him get drunk. Shame on you! Maybe he's a kind old man when he drinks. Well, you should do it soon while my boss is on vacation…He should be calling in…I will speak to him before I leave today.

Couple's training is working better than Anakin had expected. The fundraising project, in particular was something he thoroughly enjoyed…except for the haggling part. He didn't have time for that nonsense. He and Isabel are packing up the unsold merchandise. The other volunteers are also packing up their wares. Anakin will work on selling the last few items he has not been able to sell…three lamps!

One of the other parish coordinators from the fundraising committee approaches him. She is somewhat older than Wini-Li Colwathner-Prentiss IV. This woman is a shorter and slightly stocky with auburn hair and a friendly smile that brightens up her green eyes. She dresses like Wini-Li but her demeanor appears genuinely friendly. Her name is Edith Grantham. The husky-voiced woman showers him with compliments.

"Mr. Skywalker, I'm Edie Grantham from the parish Fellowship Committee. You and your wife are doing a splendid job. We hope you'll give us some more of your time. Thank you so much for your work here today." Edith 'Edie' Grantham places her left hand on Anakin's right arm as she shakes his hand. My husband, Lou agrees with the changes you're making at the Galactic Military. He wrote an editorial in the Coruscant Times."

"Is that so? I'll have to catch up on my reading. I've been busy 'talking' all summer Well, Mrs. Grantham, I'm pleased that I have support from the news media."

"Call me 'Edie. Everyone calls me Edie!" She is still holding his hand.

No one ever touches the Dark Lord, but Edie's gentle hand gives him such a good feeling that he does not mind. Only one thing concerns Anakin about his chat with Edie.

After the conversation with Mrs. Grantham, Anakin wastes no time telling Isabel what he has learned.

"Are you kidding me? Another sale? Isabel, I don't have time for this!"

"Anakin, sweetie, this will be the best gig you'll get all day. You'll even get a gavel."

This idea intrigues Anakin. He loves wielding control of things like the military, the galaxy, space stations...cool gavels like the one the Judge used in court years ago when he was fighting for custody of Luke and Leia.

"Oh…really? So I get to control everything?"

"Sort of."

"Really?"

"Father Valentin told me earlier that he was so impressed with your selling skills that he wants you to run the first couple of hours of the afternoon auction. Mrs. Grantham was with him and agreed that you should."

"I'm fine with that but I am starving. They need to give a guy a break. What is this, a Tatooine slave camp?"

"There's a buffet table in the green tent. I thought I told you."

"No, you did not. Were you going to wait until I passed out from starvation? How long do I have to get something to eat? What happened to, 'We don't communicate…we need to talk more.'

"I'm communicating with you now, Anakin."

"Are you going to time me?"

"Of course not. The auction doesn't start for two hours. Go relax and take a break."

"Did you get a break?"

"Of course. I had lunch with Father Valentin."

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have sat down together and talked." Anakin is taunting Isabel. He is waiting to see if she becomes angry but she does not fall into his trap. She is actually quite calm with him.

"You were so busy trying to practice haggling with everyone; I didn't want to destroy your fun."

It would have been fun to argue with her. How disappointing! He has only one response:

"Humph!"

Anakin walks over to the green refreshment tent. There is a food buffet and several tablecloth-covered tables surrounded by white folding chairs. There is real flatware, serviettes, and china on a small, round table. He is impressed that he does not have to deal with plastic forks and paper plates. Anakin is surprised by the variety of appetizing food items available. He fills his plate then takes a finds an empty table far from the others. Only a few people are in the buffet tent with lots of empty tables from which to choose. He senses a presence as he prepares to sit. Wini-Li is there. He tries to avoid her but she sees him first. He holds his plate as he stands looking at Wini-Li like a stunned bantha. Wini-Li blocks his access to the table he chooses. This is an awkward moment. She smiles up at him like a crazed groupie.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Uhm…" He is tempted to say 'No' but his former Jedi self tells him to be friendly. Besides, Wini-Li keeps talking as Anakin pulls out a chair for her. He could torture her and set her in carbonite, she would continue talking. This is something he would love to try. She would never whine like that pain-in-the ass son-in-law of his, Han Solo. Anakin removes the linen serviette from his flatware as Wini-Li speaks.

"This is such a special occasion. I can't believe this…my bridge club won't believe it! You have made our fundraising event so fresh and exciting. Customers have approached me and said they purchased things that they never would have normally. Everyone is raving about your kind words and gentle manner."

"Uhm…why…thank you, Winnie. That means a lot to me."

"Why haven't you joined one of our Fellowship groups?"

Anakin scratches his eyebrow and sighs wistfully.

"As you know, Winnie, I am a busy man."

"Mr. Skywalker, would you ever consider coming to speak at our annual 'Core World Guest Speakers Evening?'"

"No."

Wini-Li giggles. She thinks he is making a joke. Anakin turns and summons the bartender to the table. He usually only drinks during dinner but today he needs a drink if he is going to avoid force choking 'motor-mouth' Wini-Li Colwathner-Prentiss IV. She has obviously not noticed Anakin addressing her as 'Winnie' during their, mostly one-sided conversation. Wini-Li is still talking.

"Oh, you're so funny and charming. It's nothing big, just wine and cheese…a sit-down dinner is possible. We will compensate you of course…unless, of course, you want to donate your fee to charity. Everyone would love to hear what you have to say about the state of the galaxy and your fundraising experience. It might urge others to participate."

"What if I'm not successful in drawing people to the event?" The eager bartender hurries over and presents Anakin a bottle of Corellian Chardonnay. Anakin points to his empty wine glass as he contemplates killing himself or Wini-Li. He loses patience, grabs the bottle from the bartender, and dismisses him. "Thank-you; you may go."

Wini-Li waves her hand and laughs. Her nails have been recently manicured. She also had them painted with 'Opalescent Xim Pink' nail lacquer. She gives him a sly wink and folds her hands under her chin. Anakin notices that she has had a facelift. He is trying to figure out her true age. She is probably 20 years older than she looks. Wini-Li continues to speak.

"That would never happen! People would run for the chance to attend an event where you're the featured speaker."

"Why don't you just tell them that I suggest they join?"

"We also want to get money out of these people. They would pay to see you."

"How much are we talking about?"

"Eighty credits for two people if purchased in advance and 95 credits at the door…45 credits per person. So, what do you say?"

"I will think about it and get back to you."

"Oh, you are such a dear! Here is my card. Thank you." Wini-Li reaches inside her apron pocket and presents a card to him. Her full name is on it along with a hologram of her smiling as if she were posing for her debutant ball. Anakin accepts the card and slips it into his shirt pocket. Those shirts he got for Father's Day were actually useful. He is also starting to like the pastel colors. His mother-in-law, Ouisanne commented that the shirts bring out the blue in his eyes. Han, of all people, was present during this compliment and decides to add his own comment: 'Hey, you qualify as a model for the 'Endor Outdoorsman Summer and Fall' fishing and hunting catalog. Leia laughs, referring to the popular retail mailer as the 'Sith Back-to-School' issue.

Anakin has zoned out while Wini-Li is talking. He has her business card. Why is she still sitting at the table with him? He thinks she is going to get up and leave the table but she remains. He thinks of something to get rid of her.

"Hey, you have to clear up the tables out on the arboretum."

Wini-Li puts her hand to her temple. Anakin notices the furrows forehead. Yes, she is at least in her 80's or 90's. She needs to find a new plastic surgeon.

"Oh, I forgot. I need to make sure that the tables are taken down from the arboretum. Will you excuse me?"

"Not a problem. Go right ahead. Take your time."

Wini-Li finally leaves the table. Anakin is able to enjoy his meal in peace. He will rejoin his wife later in the cathedral rectory.

It is late afternoon. People quickly file into the meeting room, now set up to resemble an auction house. An usher distributes bidding paddles. Anakin is excited about this project. Unfortunately, none of the items up for auction sparks much interest from the bidders. Anakin decides to use his 'executive selling skills' to get things moving along.

"Okay, the next item up for bid is this exquisite Sullustan vase from the Triakk Dynasty. We will open the bidding at 650 credits." He sees a paddle rise in the crowd. "Okay…700 credits…do I hear 750 credits? Come on people, this is a very good collectible." One of the handles breaks and falls onto the rotating display. "Hey, this just makes it more valuable. It's old. Come on, people. I know you have money. "He points to an elderly grey-haired woman in the third row. Her paddle goes up. "800 credits. Thank you, ma'am. Do I hear 850 credits. You, sir, in the grey bowler…"

The old gentleman wearing a morning coat, bowler hat, and white gloves. His thick, white mustache covers his upper lip. He notices the other bidders staring at him. A black onyx-handled walking stick dangles from his arm.

"Oh, I was just fanning myself…it's terribly warm in here. Someone should do something about the air-conditioning in here."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"The bidding paddle is not a fan, 'Mr. Jeeves'. Perhaps you're just overdressed for the occasion. Am I boring you?"

"As a matter of fact, you are. And the name is Viscount Mormony Pennybags…the eighth."

"Oh, well I apologize."

"Thank you."

"No, I apologize for your parent's lack of imagination in choosing names for their kids. So, are you bidding on this vase?"

"No one wants that vase. It's in deplorable condition. Show us the next item." Viscount Pennybags waves his walking stick and almost hits another bidder…The elderly lady with the cerulean gloves. If the old man had injured her, the evening news story would have been 'Mormony assaults Nomoney' Anakin has had enough of 'Sir Dress-A-Lot.'

"Why don't you buy the vase and then we'll move on."

The man wearing the bowler blinks a few times, and then nods his head.

"I think I'll buy the vase and then I'll move on." The man raises his paddle. By the time Anakin's gavel comes down, the vase is purchased for 975 credits. Pennybags is dazed and confused as one of the artifact handlers escorts him to the cashier.

Isabel is not surprised that Anakin breaks his promise not to use his force powers but at the end of the auction, they have raised over 9,700 credits. Anakin is quite proud of himself as they are about to drive home that evening. He looks at his mobile phone. He knows the number on the display. Isabel is waiting for him to unlock the passenger door to the speeder. He gets inside and returns the call.

"Hey, you're still there? Go home! How did the day go?" Yeah? Yeah? Oh really? Sounds like something he would do, that yellow rat bastard…it's okay…I'll take care of him…well, good for you, Miss DiPesto. Sounds as if you've been talking to Lando…This is quite out of character for you. I think I'm starting to develop a new-found respect for you now…" He senses Isabel waiting outside staring at him. She taps on the driver-side window. Anakin continues his conversation. "No…he won't see me next week either…the missus and I will be picking up our son from camp. Listen; if that gaunt, shifty-eyed, humorless backstabbing vampire tries anything, mark my words, he is going to regret meddling with my staff. Thank you….and Miss DiPesto? There will be a bonus in your next paycheck. I'll make sure that incompetent Jar-Jar doesn't screw it up…I would have fired him years ago but I think he's got some sort of idiot savant talent when it comes to numbers...okay…gotta go…my wife is going to kill me. Thanks for holding down the space station…hah…hah…hah…it's a joke, Miss DiPesto…goodnight." He puts away his phone then looks out the window. He rolls it down and smiles up at his wife. "Hey, what are you still doing out there?"

"You know you locked me out of the speeder while you were scheming."

"Get in…it's been unlocked the whole time. What makes you think I'm scheming? You know, Isabel, I'm hurt by that accusation."

Isabel walks back around to the passenger door and opens it. It is true; after initially locking the door, he immediately unlocks it but Isabel was already standing at the driver's door scowling at him through the window.

"I can tell when you're up to something."

"Oh get in and stop complaining, woman." Anakin turns away and grins.

"I should slap you."

"No! You don't want to mess up this pretty face…Who are you going to kiss in the morning?"

"The dog."

"Ha-hah! You're so funny. Hey, we have to pick up our child next week. We'll be on a road trip! We'll have plenty of time to chat and bondage…and all that stuff you women love so much."

"It's 'bonding.'"

"Bondage can be fun…" He gives her a sly wink.

"I'm beginning to think this couple's exercise isn't going to be as much fun as I thought. You're not taking this seriously, Anakin."

"You love it! I'm even starting to enjoy it. I raised money for the parish and I put up with those highfalutin women from the fundraising committee. It wasn't such a bad day after all."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I have friends who help me out when I'm not around. I have things to be thankful for this year. Father Valentin said last week in Mass make a list of five things you are thankful for in the next months leading up to Befana Eve."

"Oh, boy, I can't wait to hear this. Half the time you zone out during Mass. You were actually listening?"

"Yes! I listen…between the non-stop kneeling, standing, and sitting, yes, I listen. I can do that in my sleep."

"You do!"

"Hey, I listen to what Father Valentin has to say: 'Holy this, Holy that…Jedi Saints, pray, pray…'

"Wonderful." Isabel rolls her eyes.

"So, mock me all you want. I am thankful for the help and support I've been getting lately. I have to do something nice for Lando."

"Really? You're usually tormenting him."

"Yeah but he's turned my secretary into a real badass. I'm impressed."

"That sweet Miss DiPesto?"

"Yeah! I think Tarkin is going to back off for a while. She seems to be working out fine. I'm glad I didn't fire her. I still miss Gladys. Did you know that she and Uli are traveling the galaxy on all that retirement money? I think I overpaid her. Good help is hard to come by. Imagine, 'Badass Miss DiPesto'."

"Yes, imagine that.