The Hole in the Falling Sky

By P. E. Yudkoff

When Kelly first saw the handsome, charming and sexy Vaughn, her eyes widened and her breath caught. She could hardly believe he would ever fall for her. But he did and fell hard. It was a miracle. He would do anything to win her heart.

 

Too bad her best friend, Kiana, didn't believe in miracles and distrusted everyone. She heard nothing but alarm bells and had doubts about the guy Vaughn really was. A tough girl, she would do anything to protect Kelly from this smooth-talking hunk.

 

But Kelly's love for her bullheaded and, she had to admit, eccentric best friend was no match for the passion Vaughn had awakened within her. Kiana just had to grow up, get to know him and see how wonderful and sweet he truly was. Because there was no way Kelly was losing him. She would do anything she could to be with Vaughn. As would her mother, who was sure Vaughn was her daughter's ticket to a luxurious life.

 

Sometimes doing anything can lead to the unexpected. Like arson, deceptions, hitting the highway in an old Buick, attempted murder, confronting an old mystery and having some carefree fun.

 

A Coming of Age, Young Adult novel for readers who like a fast-paced read about the power of friendship that includes some mystery, romance, pain and silliness.The book runs about 107,000 words in a short chapter-format.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bolt Cove Press
• Release date: Jan 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781733594936

Book preview

Chapter 1

Kiana Cortlent sat at the kitchen island, not at all concerned about the mess she was making as she lifted the cover off the old gun's receiver. She would clean the place up before her father came home, though he wouldn't mind the clutter. As for her mother, she wasn't coming home ever. If she'd cared so much for a tidy kitchen, maybe she wouldn't have played hero.

Now annoyed with herself, eighteen-year-old Kiana shook the thought of her mother out of her head. It's been ten years, she thought wearily. Let it go.

Kiana did and refocused. She studied the innards of the gun and smiled. She had expected the trigger lever and firing pin to be gone, but was happy to see all the internal mounting points hadn't been ground away. Having grown up with mechanical curiosity and free access to the workshops of her father's engineering and prototyping firm, she had gained both the means and skills to reproduce the missing parts.

Kiana had inherited her mechanical ingenuity from her father. With much encouragement, he had taught her well in the art and science of making things. From her mother she had acquired impatience, an odd sense of humor, an act-first-worry-about-it-later nature and her beauty. Where she got her streak of irritability, her father didn't know. His wife hadn't suffered fools gladly, but she was never as short-tempered as their daughter.

Satisfied she could fix the firing mechanism, Kiana turned her thoughts to the gun's barrel. No longer did it point straight and true, but purposely bent, it flopped downward toward the floor in a droopy curve. She again disregarded considering the legality of bringing the vintage gun to life because that was more buzzkill than challenge. She focused instead on the details of machining a new barrel.

Despite the aroma of the store-bought slice-and-bake dough wafting from the oven, Kiana had forgotten about the bribe she was baking. She jumped up at the chiming of the oven's alarm and withdrew two dozen chocolate chip cookies of various sizes. Cooking and baking were unusual activities for Kiana, and she never applied to the kitchen the same precision she brought to a machine shop. It didn't matter. Chocolate chip was by far Kelly's favorite cookie. Kiana checked the time. She had fifteen minutes before her friend would arrive. She left the cookies to cool and reassembled the .30 caliber machine gun.

Chapter 2

I don’t care how many cookies you baked. I came because you said you need help at home. You said at home, Kiana. You didn’t say anything about going to the garage and working on the hog.

Kiana wondered if the cookies were going to be enough. Kelly genuinely seemed pissed.

If I’d have told you that, you wouldn’t be here now smelling your favorite freshly baked cookies. You know you want one. Go on. Try one. I baked them myself.

Kelly looked past Kiana and glared toward the kitchen island, taking in the tools, rags and weapon. Kiana watched her face. She was always a little startled, even after all these years, by the elegance of her friend. Unlike herself, Kelly had that classic symmetrical beauty. Perfect, unblemished face. No bad side, no good side. Just two perfectly matched beautiful halves. Her skin was fair, far paler than Kiana’s light caramel coloring, and complimented her natural ash blond hair, which was precisely trimmed to fall one inch past her shoulder blades. She was a tad shorter than Kiana, but to Kiana’s amazement, Kelly always looked taller. Kiana attributed that bit of magic to her posture and less hefty physique.

Kelly turned her eyes toward Kiana. Did you wash your hands after working on that? She pointed to the machine gun. And before slicing up the cookies?

Yes, of course.

Kelly knew her friend well. She again surveyed the tools spread around the gun and asked, did you use the hacksaw blade to cut the dough?

Stop being ridiculous and eat one.

Without a word, Kelly raised a brow.

Go check the sink. I was a good girl. You’ll find the knife there.

Kelly laughed and snagged a cookie. I do love these. What’s the hog’s gun doing here?

Just thinking about what to do with it.

Don’t think so hard you get yourself into trouble. And, hey, why does it have to be me to help at the garage? There’re plenty of other people who are better suited to helping with the hog. There’s Alison. She loves building stuff and getting dirty.

She’s good with her hands, but she’s a know-it-all.

And you’re not?

The difference is, I know when to stop talking. She doesn’t. Never listens and yaks non-stop.

What about Michael? He loves cars and working on them. And you two get along.

No. Michael’s a great guy, but I don’t want any boys working on the hog. When people see a vehicle a girl’s wrenched on, the first thing they always ask is, did you do this with your dad, or brother, or boyfriend? Remember when we went to the muscle car show at the county fair and met Maryann? The girl who did the chopped and dropped Chevy.

Ah, the what?

The blue Chevy with the chopped roof and chrome pipes through the hood. Total custom job she did herself. Even sprayed the paint.

Don’t remember, sorry.

Maryann! The blonde with the skirt you liked.

Oh, the girl with the teal ombre pleated skirt and the matching dyed bangs?

Yeah, the girl with the blue hair. Don’t you remember what every guy who came by her car said to her?

Kelly nodded. Do now. None of them thought she did the work herself. All questioned her about guys helping. You’re right. They were a bunch of jerks.

Exactly. No boys are working on the hog. This is a girl project. That leaves you.

What about Becky? She likes making stuff.

She’s more talk than skill.

I don’t have any skills working with tools.

And because you know that, you won’t take the initiative and do something stupid. I’ll tell you what to do. Come on, I made you cookies.

I’m not dressed to be around that dirty monstrosity.

All you have to do is watch and make notes on a pad of paper. I promise. I need help figuring out the rat’s nest of wiring. Got to get the brake lights working if I’m ever going to get the hog on the road.

But that place is so dirty I can’t even sit down.

You’re wearing jeans.

What are you? A guy? These jeans fit, and they cost a boatload of money.

Okay, I’ll bring a sheet from home as a cover for the chair.

And the cookies too?

Yes.

Kelly narrowed her eyes. Which are all for me? None for you? She’d make Kiana suffer a little for dragging her off to her grungy garage.

Yes, Princess Mean. All for you. Listen, Kelly, there’s an old proverb. One can only begin dancing when the drum is played. I can’t dance, if you don’t bang the drum.

That’s ridiculous, Kiana. What about my hands? Do you have gloves for me? I’ve got a recital next weekend.

The only thing you’ll be handling today is a pen and a clipboard. Your hands will be fine. What recital?

Mrs. Blair arranged for me and Sarah to play at the Mountain View Senior Living Center. Kelly took a plastic storage box from a cupboard and slid the cookies into it. Then she moved to another cabinet and removed a bag of pretzels. Okay. Let’s go.

Kiana had already endured today the evil eye of the Cortlent's housekeeper for bringing the hog's gun into the house. Preferring to avoid the woman and her questions, Kiana skipped sneaking a sheet from the linen closet upstairs. She pulled a tablecloth from a kitchen drawer and hefted the machine gun into her arms. Kelly followed her from the kitchen, through a mudroom and into the home’s three-car garage.

Kiana walked past her gas-guzzling 1965 Buick Riviera and headed for the glossy black ice cream vendor tricycle she had restored last year. She had remodeled the insulated box which had once carried ice cream treats into an open passenger compartment with a bench seat. Recently she had modified the trike by adding an electric assist motor. She gently placed in the gun and dropped the tablecloth over it. When she turned around, she found Kelly holding out to her the box of cookies and the pretzels.

Take these. I’m only going if I can be the chauffeur. She straddled the bicycle seat behind the passenger box.

Kiana handed her a helmet. Really? You’ve never wanted to before.

That was before when you had to peddle. Now that it’s all zippy, I want to drive.

Kiana smiled. Be my guest. Now listen up. This is the throttle …

The girls were soon rolling along toward Hog Heaven, the two-bay garage Kiana’s father rented for his daughter on the property of a factory which made vending machines. Kelly had given the place its name. She didn’t think her friend could be happier anyplace else in the world. But right now, Kiana’s face was tense while Kelly’s broad smile reflected her unfettered joy. Driving the trike was a blast, and she had a box full of chocolate chip cookies and a bag of pretzels. Above all, she had her best friend. Kelly knew she would be heading to Kiana’s hellhole garage even without the bribe. She just liked messing with her friend.

Chapter 3

Kiana’s workshop looked like a giant Lego block building. It was a solid square topped with a flat roof. Two steel, twelve foot square sectional garage doors separated by a wide pilaster dominated the facade. Above the big doors stretched rows of shabby looking cinder blocks whose original white paint had turned a dirty gray hue. Flanking each garage door was a four-foot steel bollard with a rounded top. Two of them stood knocked askew, but all four Kiana had painted a bright yellow. Her father had installed high wattage floodlights above each garage door, and around the side of the building, a red gooseneck light fixture above the usual people-sized entry door. The only other addition to the building’s appearance was a large, painted steel whirligig swinging on a bracket bolted high on the front exterior.

Kelly was having so much fun piloting the trike, she was disappointed when they arrived.

Wait here, Kiana instructed, I’ll get the door open. She hurried away to the side entrance and used two different keys to unbolt three locks. Once inside, she tapped in her pass code and deactivated the security system. A garage door smoothly lifted, but Kelly didn’t wait for it to open completely. She ducked her head and rode the trike in.

From what she could see, the hog looked very much like it did two years ago when Kiana’s father gave the thing to her on her sixteenth birthday. He meant it to be the ultimate DIY project for her to get the monster up and running. Kiana had been thrilled. She immediately saw past the goal of restoring it and envisioned a whole new mission for the derelict, Vietnam war era Gage V-100 armored personnel carrier. Kelly from the beginning thought the whole endeavor was a little insane, and was the one who first called the big, ugly thing the hog. But she realized it had been the perfect gift for her odd, and slightly crazy, friend.

Other than the bent machine gun barrel no longer poking out from the turret, the hog looked little different than it did two years ago. But Kelly knew Kiana had done much work. She had completely overhauled the powerful Chrysler V8 engine and 5-speed manual transmission, which Kiana assured her would enable the 4-wheel drive hog to negotiate rough off-road terrain as well as reach sixty miles per hour on a highway. Most unbelievable to Kelly was that the seven ton vehicle was amphibious and should be able to manage three miles per hour on the water.

Kelly swung her head around and looked over the workshop. As soon as Kiana was in earshot, she called out, who’s your ugly friend and is that my cap he’s wearing?

Kiana draped an arm around the shoulder of the armless, legless man’s torso and head punching bag. It sported on its vinyl head a baseball cap printed with the words Cello Beast. He’s my sparring partner, and yes, that’s the hat you left at my house, which you said wasn’t your style. Frank likes it.

Frank?

I had to call it something. It’s been great for practicing my strikes and kicks. You know I’m closing in on my green belt.

How much longer?

I don’t know. Maybe three or four months.

You really like the Krav Maga training, don’t you?

I do. But I don’t practice enough. I’m not as dedicated as you are to your cello.

It’s because my cello is prettier than Frank. And pays me a lot better too.

Only because you’re talented and work at it. You deserve every penny.

That’s exactly what Northeastern University thought. A four-year music scholarship would pay for her way through school. It would be tight, but she could manage it.

Kelly first saw a cello at age eleven when no one in her class showed any interest in playing the instrument. She didn’t either, but the music teacher told her she looked pretty sitting with the cello, so she gave it a try. At the first pull of the bow, she fell in love with the sound. Three times a week after school, she eagerly practiced using the music department’s cello. When she was thirteen, her teacher let her take it home on weekends. Kelly treasured how the fluid sounds of the notes provided her solitude, shutting out the world beyond her bedroom.

But her cello playing wasn’t a match for the outside world. Kelly had grown, and not long after turning fifteen, it was time to have a full size cello if she were to continue playing seriously. Her mother deemed the expense frivolous and declared it beyond her means. The news devastated Kelly, and she thought her playing days were over when an anonymous donor offered to gift a cello to the school for Kelly's exclusive use.

Unknown to Kelly, her mother suspected, and later confirmed, the anonymous donor was Kiana’s father. Claiming she wasn’t one to take charity, her mother told the school she had to decline the offer. Her friends knew, however, that she never liked her daughter’s best friend who, she complained, was always thumbing her nose at us when our backs were turned. A surprise to all, three weeks later she came up with the money on her own and bought her daughter a new cello, bow and case. Kelly was overjoyed, brought to tears by her mother’s generosity. She never questioned where she got the three thousand dollars. Kelly guessed that she must have had most of it saved up and sweet-talked her boyfriend for the rest. She also thought the old lady must really love her.

Chapter 4

Something else caught Kelly's eye at the garage. Hanging on a wall was a thick pine board painted with a three-inch diameter circle at its center and similarly sized black circles in its corners. She remembered when Kiana had tacked the board up. How nice it had looked, smooth and unblemished. Now its surface was badly scarred and deeply hacked up. The natural color of the wood dotted the circles where the paint had been chipped away. Kiana had been honing her knife throwing skills. It not only helped her clear her mind, but, like the martial arts training, it aided Kiana's determination to never be unprepared for a fight.

Kelly looked back to see Kiana's grimy, torn-and-duct-taped upholstered armchair in line with the target board. She presumed being able to throw while standing wasn't good enough for Kiana. The girl was practicing her knife throwing from a sitting position as well. Next to the chair was something Kelly hadn't seen before, and she admired it: an old fire hydrant sprouting three long flexible metal tubes which ended in delicate blue, bell-shaped glass shades. Did you make that?

Yeah, I needed a floor lamp, so I used the junk and scrap I had. Only had to buy the switch. Try it. Turn the nut on top, one click at a time.

Kelly liked how easily the big metal nut rotated. At each click, a bulb came on. At the fourth click, all the lamps switched off.

It's beautiful. Where'd you get the shades? They look familiar.

Street garbage. In front of a house a block up from your place.

Around Christmas time, right?

Think so. It was definitely winter. Why are you asking?

Kelly's faced lit with an amused look. That garbage you found was a gift to Jolene from Bobby.

Your mom’s boyfriend, the tire salesman?

That's the one. He gave her that light fixture you found as a gift for her bedroom. She didn't think too much of it and was going to trade it away. You know how she does. Anyway, a couple of days later, she sees his wife driving a new car. Mom lost it. Ranting how she got a lousy light fixture, and the wife got a new car. Next time he comes over, she hurls it at him. That's how it got broken. It's amazing three of the shades survived. She couldn't stand seeing it and told me to get rid of it. I took it up the block.

Why didn't you tell me?

Like you need more reasons to hate my mother? It wasn't a big deal.

So she broke up with the tire guy?

Yup.

Shoot, that’s too bad.

Why? You never liked him. Made fun of his taxidermy.

He made all the squirrels have weird smiles. But I was hoping he could help me find a new set of tires for the hog at a discount price.

For a rich girl, you can be cheap. Chiseling down his commission.

I’m not rich. My dad may have money, but he earns it, and I’m on a budget.

I know. And I know you’re sensitive about it. My bad for pressing that button. Forgive me?

I always do. So, who’s Jolene’s new guy?

I don't know. Let's not talk about it.

That's okay with me. Let me show you what we're doing, and how you're going to help.

Reluctantly, Kelly followed Kiana into the hog and paid attention to Kiana's explanation of the bundles of tangled wires heaped up over the steering wheel.

Got it? I need to figure out what wires do what. So while I'm in here putting power to the circuits, you watch outside and report any lights coming on.

I got it. But Kiana, let's be serious. It's going to take years to get this thing fixed up, and we're headed to college in September. I know this is a challenge for you, but you're pouring time and money into it. What are you going to do with it when it's done? You should get rid of it and that ancient Buick of yours and get a new car. Something from this century. Something that doesn't smell weird. As it is, you ride the trike around town because that old Buick uses so much gas.

And for the exercise.

Is that why you added an electric motor?

Kiana’s face turned serious. I’ve got the Buick purring and last month finished a new modification, she lectured. And I know exactly what I'm doing when the hog is finished. Because in the future, the hog’s going to be the ultimate adventure vehicle. I'm putting in a tiny kitchen, a bathroom, bunks. We're going back-country traveling like we've talked about since sixth grade. The hog will handle most any terrain and ford most rivers and streams. We can go anyplace. Explore the Yukon Territory. See the aurora borealis. The fishing will be great. And we'll be safe. You'll be able to sleep easy at night. The damn thing is bulletproof.

Are you going to make the gun work too?

I don’t know. Got to think about that.

A smile spread across Kelly's face. I should have known you had big plans. Except for the gun, I'm all in. Let's get to work on this baby. Get in there and make something work.

Twenty minutes, some cursing and twenty-eight attempts later, Kelly excitedly called out, You did it. The left rear light is on. Two minutes later, the right rear light glowed red. Kiana jumped out of the hog.

Finally, some progress. Let's celebrate. Where are the cookies?

Chapter 5

Kiana sat in the open side door of the hog, a half-eaten cookie in one hand, a whole cookie in the other. Kelly, after draping it with the tablecloth, lounged comfortably in Kiana's armchair, munching on pretzels. Kiana saw her eyeing the target board on the wall.

Do you want to take a couple of throws, Kel?

What?

I see you staring at my practice target. Do you want to take a couple of throws at it?

No. I was just thinking about traveling in the hog. Will there be room for my cello?

Uh. Only if you sleep with it.

Really?

I don't know. It's pretty big. But I'll think on it if it's … A car horn, urgently beeping, interrupted Kiana. She stood up and looked beyond the open garage door. Oh crap. Don't get up and don't move. Maybe she won't see you.

Kelly reluctantly rose. Wearily, she said, It's my mom, isn't it? She turned in time to see the old, cherry red Honda roll to a stop.

What does she want now? Kiana growled. Last month I changed her engine oil, rotated the tires and lubed the struts.

"I don’t know. I just hope she’s not well lubricated. Looks like she got her hair done. She watched her mother sitting in her car admiring herself in the rearview mirror before digging a lipstick out of her purse and touching up her lips. Her long hair had been swept up into a perfect beehive. It was her signature look. Kiana had never seen her hair styled any other way. Its platinum blond sheen glistened from a fresh color treatment. Kelly marveled. She must have left work after lunch to get her hair done."

How does she get away with working half a day?

She's the only woman admin working at the recycling facility. She says there are benefits to being the only hen in a pen full of roosters. But mostly because she lets the office manager feel her up at Christmas time when she receives her bonus check.

Do you know that from drunk talk?

Yup.

Kiana tossed her cookies back into the Tupperware box and ambled toward Kelly while keeping an eye on Jolene, who strutted effortlessly into the garage on her pointy stiletto heeled boots. On most women, Kiana thought, her outfits and makeup would have crossed the line to cheap and nasty. But Jolene, with her hard-edged natural beauty, carried it off with a sexy allure, just short of sleazy. Kiana figured Jolene had nailed a sort of virgin whore style, though she had never mentioned this to Kelly.

What's wrong, Mom? Is everything all right? She gazed into her mother's eyes and nervously waited for her to start speaking.

I came to talk to you with news. Kelly relaxed. She was sober. But the first question is, what are you doing here, and why are you not answering your mother's calls?

Kelly grabbed her phone from her pocket and scanned it. Sorry, Mom. I turned the ringer off before my lesson and forgot to turn it back on. My screwup. I'm really sorry. How did you know to find me here?

I called over to Kiana's place and their puffed-up maid told me she brought you here.

Kiana smiled and raised her hand in a wave. Hi, Jolene.

Jolene turned a glare on Kiana. What's the matter with you? You know this is no place for a girl like Kelly. Just like you not to appreciate her delicate features. How can you let her get all greasy and disgusting? And before I forget, that maid of yours asked me to remind you to bring back her tablecloth.

Darn, that woman must have eyes in the back of her head. She didn't get greasy, Jolene, Kiana said with unnatural restraint.

The woman ignored Kiana and marched over to Kelly. Show me your hands. What man wants these touching him? You’ve wasted your manicure. Look, there’s a nail missing. Your hands weren’t meant for working in a place like this. It’s bad enough what you're doing to your fingers because of that cello. With a dramatic flourish, Jolene pointed a spiked-shaped fingernail toward Kiana's hands. Kelly, she said loud enough to be sure Kiana would hear, you want to end up with paws like that!

Hey, I moisturize every day, rain or shine, Kiana strained to say politely.

A dismissive smile spread across Jolene's face. So, this is where you pretend to be a poor working girl?

It's where I worked on your car, Jolene, for free. Changed your engine oil, rotated your tires.

And you felt the better for it. You got to feel like a big shot helping one of us regular folks. And the Lord knows you ain't regular. Kelly tells me you're going to that fancy MIT school in Boston. You’re just perfect for them. You're smart, your daddy can pay all the bills on time in full, and you get to check the special person box as a … what was your mother? A Fiji island princess? Tell me, Kiana. Can you walk on fire like those island people? Are those big gunboats of yours really that tough?

Stop it, Kelly shouted. That's enough. Leave right now if you can't control that mouth of yours.

Tell her not to use that looking-down-her-nose tone with me like first thing I did every morning was pee in her cornflakes.

That's ridiculous, Mom. Kiana's not like that. How can you say …

Kelly! She's right, Kiana blurted out. She couldn't stand hearing Kelly fight with Jolene because of her. Your mom's right. I'm sorry, Jolene. Sometimes a disrespectful tone colors my words. It's not right.

That's big of you to say, Kiana, Jolene said without emotion. Like I said, Kelly, I've come to tell you some things. I told you I have news.

Apologize first to Kiana. Then I'll listen to you.

Kiana's face crinkled into a little smile aimed at Jolene. She couldn't help herself. She hated the woman.

Come on, Mom. Kiana apologized to you. Now it's your turn. Your words were hurtful.

I'm sorry. Didn't mean that crack about your feet.

My mother was a native Hawaiian, not a Fijian. But anyone could make that mistake. There're a lot of islands in the South Pacific. Kiana knew the only one who needed their apologies was Kelly. All the snippy words, eye rolling, dismissive gestures and insolent attitudes over the years between Jolene and Kiana merely bounced off them. But they cut at Kelly, sometimes deeply. Apology accepted, Jolene, Kiana said sincerely. Now, what's this news you want to share?

Chapter 6

I got a letter for you. Came today in the mail. It’s from the financial aid office at Vakeford.

I told you. I’ve decided to go to Northeastern.

But Vakeford is going to give you more money, and it’s way cheaper than going all the way up to Boston.

You opened the letter, didn’t you?

Of course, I’m your mother.

Kiana bit her tongue and held back telling Jolene about the basic rights of privacy regarding the mail one receives. It would only rile her and make things worse for Kelly.

Boston is a great opportunity for me. NEU is giving me scholarship money and a sweet work-study job at the library. And I really like the music department. It’s the best option for me.

Jolene waved the white business envelope through the air. Read their offer. They’ve changed it. They’re now including full living expenses as well as a full scholarship. Rent, food, books and incendiaries.

Kiana spun around, hiding her giggle. She despised Jolene, but she wasn’t going to embarrass her in front of Kelly by schooling her on the word incidentals.

You can get paid for living at home. You can’t beat that.

I’ve already told them I’m interested in going elsewhere.

Well, they’re trying to change your mind. It’s because of the cello, don’t you see? It’s a thousand dollars a month, and you could live at home.

This has nothing to do with money. I’m not living at home.

So you prefer to live in a tiny dorm room squished in with a bunch of strange girls while your mother struggles to make ends meet?

There it is. Kiana shook her head. It’s always about Jolene.

Stop making me feel guilty. When I’m in Boston, you’ll have more money because you won’t have to feed me. I’m not going to Vakeford to study steno. It’s more a finishing school for rich kids with C averages than a real college. For God’s sake, Mom, it’s where the guys are just looking to get laid and the girls are just looking to get laid and husbands. We’ve spoken about this a dozen times. I’m not studying to be a stenographer.

Are they still teaching that? Kiana wondered aloud.

I don’t know. My mother seems to think so. She thinks steno and a tight blouse will land me a rich lawyer husband.

Jolene mulishly set her hands on her hips. Are you done running your mouth? Vakeford does have a program for learning shorthand, and I tell you those kids are going to get jobs. Most of the gals today doing shorthand in courtrooms are getting on in age because young people think everything’s going digital, and there’s no need for it. But I tell you, I read up on this and well before digital audio replaces stenographers, there’s going to be a real shortage of them. It’s your sweet spot, Kelly. Just at the time you’re looking your best, they’ll be plenty of good-paying jobs. And you’ll shine among the old crones. Lawyers and judges will notice. I’m telling you they won’t be able to take their eyes off a girl as pretty as you. You’ll be able to have your pick. Being a lawyer’s wife and living in a big, fancy house isn’t a bad life.

Kiana was truly impressed with Jolene’s analysis. That’s an interesting insight, Jolene. In anticipation of new technology making stenography obsolete, young people will avoid the field prematurely, leading to a shortage of stenographers too early. I can see that.

It doesn’t matter! Kelly snapped. I’m not planning a career so I can lure a lawyer into marriage.

"There’re