TIMING AND TEMPERATURE

"You still have it?" Amanda said, her eyes wide as they pulled up in front of the run-down garage.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and she and Lee had been out that morning running errands, taking their time as they stopped at the hardware store and looked at a new kitchen table, still sipping the coffees they'd picked up at a bakery near Lee's old place. The boys were with Joe and the house was blissfully quiet, a rarity — no one had an appointment or a volunteer shift or a ball game. And then Lee had said, as if it had just occurred to him, that he needed to meet Ivor at this garage on the opposite side of town.

Amanda had been so convinced work was going to ruin their weekend that he'd finally admitted the real nature of the meeting as he navigated the offramp from the freeway, slowing as they drove through a desolate-looking industrial area. And now she was staring at him as he killed the engine, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Yeah." Lee nodded. "I know, I know. I was going to get rid of it, I kept meaning to get rid of it, and then Rhonda said I could park it and things got a little hairy for a while and I kinda… I dunno… forgot about it."

"A food truck. You forgot about a food truck?"

"I thought about it now and then but honestly, Amanda, you can't deny we've been busy." He lifted his hand, as if to count things off. "Birol —" She made a face and he shot her an apologetic look — "getting married, California —" another apologetic look — "getting married again, me settling into the house, your mother moving out, the whole Vavilov incident, general, day-to-day insanity of living with two teenagers, the Dvornak case —" now he grimaced — "your new job, your mother mov —"

"Okay, okay." She held up a hand. "I get it. Say no more. Things have been a little nuts, I know. But a whole truck?"

He shrugged. She shook her head and laughed.

"And now Ivor wants to buy it? You're going to sell it to a former KGB agent?"

"Apparently." He grinned. "A former KGB agent who makes the best fries in town and fixed your bike so it runs like new, I might add."

Amanda laughed. "I have no problem with Ivor," she said, unclipping her seatbelt. "I like Ivor a lot, in fact. I'm just enjoying how ironic the whole thing is. You only own it because of —"

"I know, I know."

"Did you tell him the story?"

"He already knew the story, I didn't have to say a word. Stemwinder generated a ton of chatter at the time. On both sides." He pushed open his door. "Anyway, he'll be here in a couple of minutes so let's check it out and make sure everything's okay."

"How did this whole deal even come about?" she asked, waiting as he unlocked a padlock on a rusty door and yanked it overhead.

He shot her a look and she sighed.

"Okay, maybe a better question is, how did Brenda know you owned a food truck?"

"She didn't. She was outside taking a smoke break with Ivor when I rolled up last Tuesday, and we got to talking and he said he was thinking about starting his own business, and I asked him if he meant bicycles and he said no, food-related but he couldn't afford a restaurant, and…."

"And you said, 'Funny thing, I have a food truck kicking around.'"

"Pretty much."

Amanda shook her head, leaning a shoulder against the steel siding of the building. "Well, that's great for him."

"It's great for me, too, since he's agreed to act as another set of eyes and ears out there for us."

"As part of the family?"

Lee nodded. "I, uh, expedited his permits as a kind of down-payment on his services. And he's getting a killer deal on the truck."

She shifted on her feet, unsure how to ask her next question, then decided to just come out with it. "As your contact?"

"Well, kind of. Until he gets to know Peterson better." He paused, casting her a sideways glance. "I'm going along for a while but Paul's driving the bus, so to speak."

"Uh huh." She smirked, not really believing him but not really wanting to get into an argument about whether he'd ever really give up his field contacts. He was fiercely protective of his 'family,' choosy about who he added to the list and even choosier about which of their colleagues were allowed to be contacts. "That's great for the Agency. One thing, though — who's going to make the fries at The Pie Plate now?"

Lee chuckled. "He's been working on that. He has an apprentice who's been making them for a few weeks. We've all been eating them and not even knowing." His eyes twinkled. "Even you, two at a time."

Amanda rolled her eyes. She slipped her hands into her pockets and stood looking into the garage, at the boxy white truck that squatted there, waiting. Behind her, she heard the crunch of tires on gravel — not a car, though, something smaller and lighter — and turned to see Ivor rolling up on his bicycle.

She waved. "Hello."

Ivor grinned and nodded back, skidding to a stop beside their car.

"Did you bike all the way here?"

"Ah, no." Ivor got off his bicycle and leaned it against his hip. "Took a crosstown bus, too. How's your bike? Been out with your boys?"

"A little," she said. "And by myself a few times. It's working great."

"Good, good."

"I hear you're going into business."

Ivor nodded. "Trying something new."

"That's terrific."

"Hope so." He shrugged his shoulders, settling the worn collar of his denim jacket. Amanda felt tiny beside him, suddenly. She wondered if his enemies had found him intimidating. He wasn't intimidating now, but she sensed he might have the capacity to transform somehow. If circumstances required it.

He nodded, looking at the truck. "So this is it."

Amanda watched as he moved into the garage, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, and inspected the truck. Lee had disappeared around the back of the vehicle, into the darkened garage, and Amanda heard him moving around. A moment later the service window on the side of the truck opened and he poked his head out.

"Hey," he said to Ivor. "What do you think?"

"Just like you said," Ivor answered, nodding. "Good condition."

"Yup." Lee leaned on the counter. "I'll give it a good scrub out for you. It's been sitting a while."

Ivor shook his head and waved a hand. "No need," he said. "You're giving me a good deal."

"It's no trouble," Lee insisted. "I told our boys I'd pay them to do it."

Ivor laughed. "Well then. I don't want to disappoint them."

Our boys, Amanda thought, and felt her cheeks prickle with a funny, happy feeling at the words. Not the boys or Amanda's boys. Theirs.

She looked at the truck and thought about sitting in the front seat with him, tense and anxious, sure someone was going to catch them. Wondering if she'd ever see Phillip or Jamie again. She had pushed all of those feelings down at the time, somewhere deep and out of the way, and she'd never really bothered to take them out again until now, years later. They bubbled up in her chest and made her catch her breath loud enough that Ivor turned to look at her.

"A mouse," she said, lamely. She had never let herself imagine what it would really be like to leave her sons behind and start a new life — the two weeks she'd spent without them had been terrible enough, even though she'd had Lee — but she realized she was looking at the one person she knew who probably understood that. Ivor had left everything behind, including his son. It didn't matter that his son was fully grown.

"Oh I'm sure they've been living it up in there," Ivor said, chuckling. "Makarov probably sent them. Little KGB mice, here to steal secrets. Only I have none."

"Your fries," she joked.

"Those are just temperature and timing," he said.

Lee had hopped out of the back of the van and joined them. Even he looked small next to Ivor, Amanda thought.

"Amanda's concerned The Pie Plate will lose some of its appeal," he said, and Ivor gave a big laugh, then.

"You give me too much credit," he said. "I only make easy things. Fries, burgers, fried chicken. Someone else does the harder stuff."

"If you say so," Amanda said, though she wasn't convinced those were easy to do well. Time and temperature sounded like simple things but she knew they weren't, not when you had a rush to deal with, and she'd been in that restaurant at peak hours. Even her mother had her timing and temperature down to a science, based on the oven she was using or the humidity outside.

Ivor had tugged open the driver's side door and was sitting in the front seat, running his hand over the steering wheel thoughtfully.

"Here," Lee said, fishing the keys out of his pocket. "Go ahead and fire it up. I had Rhonda run it regularly and she checked the spark plugs and everything last week."

Lee hadn't forgotten about it, Amanda realized. Not really. He'd kept it for some reason, something he didn't want to admit to or tell her about. It could have been as innocent as a potential cover, but maybe it was something else. A reminder that the Agency, though filled with people they both considered friends and allies, could just as easily turn on any of them.

Ivor turned the key and the engine sprang to life with a cough, then settled into a low rumble. Amanda saw his expression relax into a wide smile as he revved the engine, and he turned and nodded at Lee.

"Take it for a spin," Lee said. "We'll wait."

They watched as Ivor eased the truck out of the garage and headed out of the parking lot. Amanda sighed as the growl of the engine faded and she turned to look at Lee, who was watching the Ivor drive away with a strange look on his face.

She nudged him with her shoulder, and he slid an arm around her, his gaze still following the truck as it disappeared around a corner.

"You didn't forget," she said.

"No."

"So what gives? Why hang onto it for so long?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I told myself I was being practical and the Agency would buy it, or I'd need it for a case or something, but…."

"And now you know you probably won't."

He shifted on his feet. "Yeah. I guess."

"It's not doing anyone any good sitting in this garage," Amanda said.

"Nope."

"And you're adding a new member to your family."

"Yep."

"And Ivor's getting a fresh start. He deserves a fresh start." She wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about that — really, she barely knew Ivor. But he'd been kind to her and she sensed he was a good person. She wondered if his son would come and work with him, if they'd dish up hot lunches side-by-side to hungry patrons on a break from their workday or kids looking for an alternative to school cafeteria fare. She wondered if he was buying the truck because of time and temperature — because he finally felt settled enough to make another in what she knew was probably a long string of changes. Because things were settled enough on the other side of the world that he could finally, perhaps, bring his son to DC.

Lee nodded. "He does deserve a fresh start."

Amanda leaned against him. "I think it's good to let go of things now and then."

His arm tightened around her. "Like old trucks?"

"You weren't gonna run a food truck, were you?"

He waited a beat before he answered. Long enough she lifted her head from his shoulder and peered up at him, curious. He gave her a quick smile. "No, of course not."

She felt him tense against her as he spoke, and then he stepped away and headed toward the car, mumbling something about the bill of sale.


Amanda knew where they were going the moment Lee turned off the freeway. He was taking the long way back, no doubt craving a little comfort. They didn't have to be anywhere until three-thirty, when they were meeting Joe to watch Jamie's soccer game. Ivor's test drive had gone off without a hitch, and when he'd parked the truck outside the garage and slid out of the driver's seat, he already had an envelope of cash in his hand. They'd agreed he'd leave the truck where it was until the next Sunday, and Phillip and Jamie, who had Friday off school that week, would come by and clean it. Amanda had been surprised to discover Lee had already arranged all this with the boys on the drive over to Joe's the night before. He'd insisted on dropping them off while she made dinner, and now it all made sense. She wondered why he didn't want to tell her about it all until the last minute. And then she knew.

"You were worried it'd happen again, weren't you?" she asked, as he killed the engine and reached for his seat belt. "That's why you kept the truck."

"What?"

"Another Stemwinder. Another… something… that would send us underground again."

He ducked his head, fiddling with his keyring. "Yeah, I guess in the back of my mind, I was."

Amanda sat with her hand on the door latch. "You don't still worry about that, do you?"

"Not now that we're both out of the field, no," he admitted. "The odds are much, much lower. But I still have enemies out there."

"We both do," she reminded him. "I guess we all do. Ivor, and Brenda, and Francine, and even Billy."

"Yep." He reached out to catch her hand. "Funny thing, though, we've also all got each other's backs. Right?"

Amanda felt the knot in her chest melt away at the funny little smile curving his mouth. "Right," she repeated, squeezing his fingers. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles, then pushed open the driver's side door and let go.

Timing and temperature, she thought, as they stood in the vestibule of the crowded diner, waiting for their table. She watched Lee as he studied the room, his hand at the small of her back. He looked relaxed, as if selling the truck had closed another one of his abandoned, unfinished chapters. Perhaps it had.

She could never watch him without him noticing, and after a moment she felt his hand press against her. "What?" he asked, and she lifted a shoulder in response, choosing her words.

"You look happy about things," she said finally.

"I am happy about things. I was happy about things before." He drew her close against his side. "It's one less thing to think about."

"And one more thing that worked out," she added.

He grinned. "Yep. I've got a long list of those now."

She wanted to ask how the other list was coming along, the things he still hadn't put to rest, but instead she stood beside him and watched the crowd in the dining room.

Amanda couldn't point fingers. She had her own things, she realized. Anyone their age did. The fact she hadn't thought about his in a while should be enough. The fact she hadn't thought about hers should be enough, too. You couldn't have everything, and what they did have, if she wanted to push Ivor's metaphor to its limit, was bubbling along quite nicely.

"I'm going to do a test," she said after a minute.

He looked down at her, puzzled.

"I'm going to see if it's true and Ivor's student understands time and temperature as well as Ivor does." She saw Brenda approaching, beckoning to them with two menus in hand.

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question, the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. "If that's your way of asking me if I want to share a plate of fries," he said, dipping his head to kiss her cheek, "the answer is always yes."