Chapter 13

Olivia was rinsing the pasta, Peter was stirring the sauce, and Etta was setting the table. Rather, Etta was dancing around the table, and with every pirouette, she would lay down a piece of silverware.

"Whaddaya bet I get two forks again," Peter laughed.

Olivia shrugged. "You take what you can get, I guess…" She smiled at him as she emptied the pasta into a large bowl, then opened a cabinet and removed two oversized wine glasses and held them up for Peter's inspection. "A little celebration for saving the world?" she asked.

"Sure, why not." Peter poured the sauce over the pasta and carried the bowl to the table. "A-ha! A fork AND a spoon this time. Well done, Princess!" He made a formal bow to Etta, who curtsied and giggled.

"Red or white?" Olivia called from the kitchen.

"Oh, let's go for the sparkly stuff… we might really have something to celebrate," Peter replied as he pulled out Etta's chair for her. Once she was settled, he tucked a napkin around her neck and dished up salad and pasta for her.

"Really, now… what could that be?" Olivia came out of the kitchen and handed Peter a bottle of Prosecco. She and Etta covered their ears and Peter eased out the cork; they giggled and made faces at each other at the loud pop.

"So, what are we drinking to?" she asked as Peter filled the glasses.

"How about… to serendipity?" He held out his glass.

Etta raised her glass of milk and the three of them clinked glasses gently.

"To…. saran—dity," Etta said slowly, looking at her father for confirmation.

"Ser en dip ity," Peter said slowly. "It means a happy accident. Like finding something you weren't looking for."

"Ser en dipity," Etta repeated confidently. "Did you find a lucky penny, Daddy? Or a four leaf clover? Grandpa says that those are good luck, even if they are mutants."

Olivia stifled a smile, while Peter hid his grin by taking a sip of wine.

"Well?" Olivia nudged Peter.

"Well, it was a couple of things… you're responsible for one of them."

"Yay, Mama!" Etta interjected. "Did Mama help you save the world?"

"She did, kiddo. She gave me the first clue that told me where to look for the answers." Peter smiled at Olivia, who returned his smile with a puzzled look on her face.

"Remember a couple of weeks ago, we'd just picked up the Pearce case?"

Olivia nodded.

"You reminded me…." Peter paused and glanced at Etta. "You told me that Walter… that Walter may have viewed the world from a different perspective than the rest of us." He looked at Olivia. "You remember that conversation?"

She nodded slowly. "Peter…" she said with a warning tone to her voice.

"No, no…" he said hurriedly. "I'm not advocating his methods. But you reminded me what made Walter special."

Olivia rolled her eyes a bit, but nodded for him to continue.

"Then when I was teaching Etta about statistics and probabilities…remember, kiddo?"

"You were teaching her how to figure odds, Peter," she laughed.

"Same thing…" he shrugged. "But when Etta said the odds were fifty-fifty, you said …"

"Unless you break the laws of physics," Etta and Olivia said together.

"Exactly! And that made me think…. What if I COULD break the laws of physics? Like Walter… if I could do anything, what would I do? And how would I do it?"

"So Grandpa helped you, too," Etta said, between mouthfuls of pasta.

"You're right, kiddo," Peter said thoughtfully. "Grandpa helped me, too."

Olivia took a large gulp of her Prosecco and looked down at the pasta. Fathers and sons, she thought. What would you do for the ones you love.

"And…I had a really interesting conversation today," Peter continued. "Dean Kastner, from MIT."

"The Dean of Science? Was he…" Olivia paused.

"No, surprisingly enough, he wanted to talk to me."

"And…."

"We touched briefly on my… previous association with MIT," Peter said wryly. "And he had a proposition for me."

Olivia laughed, a short bark. "Did it have anything to do about pressing charges for misrepresentation?"

He gave her a dirty look before continuing. "No, as a matter of fact… he wants me to write a doctoral dissertation. They want to give me a Ph.D."

"But MIT doesn't award honorary…"

"He said it wouldn't be an honorary degree. It's the real deal." He shook his head. "I don't get it either. Maybe they're trying to cover their tracks. All they want is a dissertation… on any topic. He practically guaranteed a pass on the oral..."

Olivia rolled her eyes. Peter opened his mouth to speak, his eyes glittering, but she cut him off with a sharp glance to Etta, who appeared to be engrossed in twirling threads of linguine around her fork. "Don't even…" she warned him.

"All he said was that it had come to his attention that I had done exemplary work that the university would be proud to stand behind…" He looked at Olivia suspiciously. "Do you know anything about this?"

Olivia looked at him innocently. "Do you really think I have that kind of pull at MIT?"

"Hrmph." Peter looked doubtful. "I think I want to do it." He gave her a small smile. "I think Walter would like it…" He grimaced. "He always said I squandered my education."

Olivia looked down and bit her lip, that gesture that always melted Peter's heart. "I think he would like it, too," she murmured. She lifted her glass. "To Dr. Bishop," she said with a broad smile.

"To ANOTHER Dr. Bishop." Peter raised his glass and tipped it against hers.

Etta looked up from her pasta. "Cheers!" she exclaimed.

ooo

Olivia put the last of the leftovers in the refrigerator, then turned off the lights in the kitchen and followed the sound of voices to Peter's study. He and Etta were crouched in the middle of the room, examining an enormous metal box, almost the size of an old steamer trunk.

"That's right, kiddo, this is Grandpa's address on the top." Peter looked up at Olivia as she entered the room and shrugged apologetically. "As close as we can get it."

When Etta noticed her mother, she jumped up and grabbed Olivia's hand, tugging her excitedly to Peter's side. "Look what Aunt Nina sent us!"

Peter was running his hand over the top of the box, over an embossed plate bearing the inscription "Dr. Walter Bishop, Oslo, Norway". "I was talking to Nina after the Pearce case wrapped," he said quietly. "I told her a little bit about Walter's 'sabbatical'. I thought she had the right to know…"

"Of course," Olivia replied, putting her hand on Peter's shoulder. "But what it is?"

"According to Massive Dynamic, it is an indestructible container, guaranteed to survive nuclear explosions, fire, floods… and time. According to the warranty," he laughed, "it's good for 10,000 years."

Olivia gave Peter, and the box, a skeptical look. "A 10,000 year warranty, hmm?"

"Well, if anyone or anything will be around for years to come, I'd say it would be Massive Dynamic. Nina's having instructions drafted for managing the… delivery."

"And in the meantime," he said with a cheerfulness his eyes denied, "Etta will be filling it with drawings and letters to Grandpa, right, kiddo?"

"So he knows we're still thinking about him even though he's far away," Etta explained solemnly. "Daddy even bought me special paper and colors."

Peter shrugged again. "Acid free paper," he explained. "And archival markers. Plenty of room for letters and Etta's pictures… maybe a small turntable and a few albums." He stood up and stretched. "Plenty of time to figure it out."

Olivia slipped an arm around Peter's waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "Are you going to draw one tonight, Etta?"

Etta was already headed to Peter's desk, a pad of paper and new colored pencils in hand. "I want to write to Grandpa every day. Can I? I don't want him to be lonesome."

"Of course, sweetheart," Peter replied. "Maybe I'll write to him every day, too." He picked up a book from the desk, a journal bound in black leather. He showed it to Olivia, a wistful smile on his face. "I don't want to be lonesome, either."