77. THE WHITE HOUSE
“President Stump,” Kip said formally, “I’d like to introduce Mr. Wendell Dipmier.”
When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell.
Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may.
After all...I can't fix stupid.
Previously: Chuck, Lili and Deloris coordinate a masterful plan to infiltrate the Centurion Citadel to rescue Nat, Shamas, and throw Morty to the wolves.
Chapter 77
It doesn’t matter where you’re born or under what conditions…rich or poor, men are men.
Unless you’re a gnome.
…then you never know what might happen.
I walked another slow circle.
The room was barely big enough to stretch my arms—but it was enough. Four square walls. A ceiling just high enough to stand upright. A narrow bench bolted to one side. No windows. No door. A single bulb protruded over the bench, buzzing faintly.
I had no idea how long I’d been in here, but everything changes once I’d exposed myself to my captors. In near terror, they’d pumped me full of drugs to knock me out…and I woke up in here.
Every breath echoed in my ears. The space was much larger than a coffin, sure…but it still took all my concentration not to panic.
Got to get out. Don’t want to be in here anymore.
No.
Stay calm, Wendell. It’ll be alright. You’re not hurt.
There’s no danger.
I stopped mid-step and almost laughed.
“No danger?” coughed Doubt.
Yeah, okay. I know.
“You’ve been tortured. Drugged. Strapped down. Forced to watch psychotic gnomes beat and break Dax’s bones just to pry answers out of you. It felt like a bad TV drama—one of those grim crime shows you used to half-watch back on Earth.” Doubt mumbled. “But I have to say, Wendell, you flipped that script around in a heartbeat. THAT,…was impressive.”
Here I thought gnomes would be incredibly sweet, kind, cute little people with doll clothes on…
“Then you met Alhannah.”
A short, sharp laugh burst out of me. Tough. Skilled. Scary, even. All wrapped up in an adorable package. I shuddered.
“And then you get here and find out Alhannah isn’t so odd or unique with her anger management problems.” Doubt snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”
My hands traced the skin where the shackles had bitten into my wrists. My fingers slid to the crook of my elbow, where Ms. Callous had taken my blood…again and again…and again.
She’d woken up on the floor after being thrown across the room.
Not afraid.
Excited.
“That lady seriously needs a mental evaluation,” I muttered.
“Just don’t let Shrewd or Upshot do it,” Doubt said.
I snorted.
It reminded me of Earth. Of shows about unstable criminals. About cruelty packaged as entertainment. Hollywood violence inflicted on ordinary people. It turned my stomach.
“You never really know what’s going on in someone’s brain.”
“Says the voice in my head,” I smirked.
“Touché.”
To her, I’d been the discovery of a lifetime…until she’d seen the gem embedded in my chest.
The Ithari.
She’d hesitated then.
Only for a heartbeat.
It’s not real, she kept telling herself. It’s only an illusion. Mr. Shrewd hadn’t been so sure. After that moment, he refused to touch me at all. Instead, he barked orders at others—gnomes who looked just as uneasy about laying hands on me.
I’d been grateful for that much.
It made me wonder what gnomes truly believed about the Gnolaum. About their prophecies.
About me.
They weren’t terrified though. They were worried. Like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do. Like fingers in a cookie jar.
The thought stuck with me.
I should have asked Chuck more questions.
“Well, maybe now you might get the chance.”
Before the final Trench Wars match, I’d spent time with Alhannah and Höbin, prepping my speech. The G.R.R. and Bellows had expected me to use my victory to cement my public position.
Lean into the Gnolaum image.
Push it.
Wield it.
That was when I learned the Gnolaum wasn’t just a legend.
He was culture.
A symbol meant to guide gnomes. To set their lives in order.
Which is why I had SO many questions for The Librarian. Eva had so much knowledge, being tied to all the books contained in the Great Library. The more I experienced, the more questions I had, which led to more knowledge, and a single truth manifested itself over weeks of study…
None of it was comforting.
I pressed my palms to the wall, dragging my fingers across the cold metal, searching for a seam. A flaw. Anything.
Nothing.
“Not like you need more pressure on your shoulders, now do you?” said Doubt.
I sighed inwardly.
“Hey, that’s a cop-out, Wendell.”
Does it even matter anymore?
“I know I don’t say this often, but if I don’t preserve you, I don’t preserve me, so…you’re NOT a bad person, Wendell. You have a fault…”
Here we go…
“No, listen to me,” Doubt growled. “I know I’m rough on you, cause that’s my job, but one of your biggest faults is how much you take on as your responsibility, when you weren’t the one who made the choice! That’s not on you.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem,” Doubt replied. “Now get us out of here, before we find out this is some garbage compactor and they make us into pâté.”
Annnnd, he’s back.
I leaned forward until my forehead rested against the wall.
Cool metal. Solid. Unforgiving.
I needed to walk through this. Come up with a plan for escape, get Dax, get out. I had no idea where I was or what they were going to do with me…but they knew who I was now.
No—that wasn’t quite right.
They thought they did.
I’d been sedated almost immediately after revealing myself. Darkness swallowed me whole. When I woke, I’d been crumpled on the floor of this room, my shirt tossed over me like an afterthought.
At least they’d let me keep my clothes.
I rubbed my wrists again and held my hands up, turning them over. They’d cleaned me. All the blood was gone. The ugly scars across my hands were already fading, scabs flaking away.
I smiled faintly. You really are amazing, and I tapped the center of my chest in quiet gratitude.
“Well,” I said aloud, “at least I don’t have to hide you anymore, right?” I snorted. “The bird’s out of the bag. Or…is that the saying? I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter.”
I slid down and sat on the bench.
Now what?
Images of Mr. Upshot torturing Dax surged into my mind. Fingers snapping. Bones crushed by a hammer.
Guilt slammed into me.
Watching Dax suffer so I could…keep lying.
But no—Dax would’ve done the same. For Alhannah. For the crew. For Morty and Deloris.
…for Chuck.
I’d done the right thing. I’m…pretty sure of that.
It didn’t stop the panic.
What happens now? If they think they’ve gotten everything they want…
My breathing hitched.
The monitor had gone dark in a hurry once I’d revealed myself as the Gnolaum. Since then…nothing. Silence.
Even if I did get out of here, I had no idea where Dax was. Or if he was even alive. Rocking back and forth, I squeezed my eyes shut.
Is this what the rest of the world is going to be like?
The fear. The hatred. The suspicion.
Would humans be any different? I hadn’t exactly received a warm welcome from Evan when I first arrived in Tilliman Village, either. Miriam, Evan’s mother, would never forgive me for allowing Hiram to die…even though there was nothing I could do for him. That’s the thing about people being disappointed in you.
It’s not about what you think…only what they think. It is there minds you have to change in order to find redemption in their eyes.
No—that wasn’t fair.
I’d snuck into Clockworks.
“Well, in a body bag so to speak, but okay,” Doubt chuckled.
Shut up.
The gnomes were paranoid about outsiders. I’d been in trouble the moment I set foot on..*cough*… woke UP on the island.
Doubt laughed.
Shut uuuup.
What started as a harmless quest had spiraled completely out of control.
…and they still had my friend.
I jumped up and kicked the wall. “I want to see Dax!” Then I slammed my fist against the metal. “He better be alright…”
I kicked it again.
He better be.
The threat rang hollow, and I knew it.
I didn’t want to hurt the gnomes. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.
Okay. I wanted to punch Mr. Shrewd in the face. Maybe hold Mr. Upshot still so Dax could take a few shots of his own.
…but that was it.
Ms. Callous had already been knocked flat.
Okay. That was pretty funny.
But mostly, I wanted out of this room. I wanted to know my friend was safe.
Most of all, I wanted to go home.
I was done with Clockworks City. Let the gnomes worry about themselves. I don’t want to get involved.
There was a soft pop, followed by a muffled voice crackling through hidden speakers. “Your friend is well enough at present. Please have a seat and remain still, Mr. Dipmier.”
It was Mr. Upshot.
The cool, dial-tone cadence was unmistakable.
Not sure what to expect, I hesitated. My eyes darted around the tiny room, searching for movement, seams, changes…anything. For all I knew, the room could start filling with water.
“Please,” Upshot repeated calmly, “have a seat.”
How did he know I was standing? Where was the freaking camera?
I dropped to my hands and knees and looked under the bench.
There it was.
A small metal box fastened beneath the seat. A round lens adjusted slightly, a red light blinking beneath it.
I ripped it free.
The red light kept flashing.
Holding it up to my mouth, I said flatly, “Open the door.”
Another pop.
The red light went dead.
With a click and a clack, bolts shifted. The wall opposite the bench swung open and bright yellow light flooded the room. I raised my hand to shield my eyes, blinking until the silhouette resolved into a single figure standing in the doorway.
“That was quite inconsiderate, Mr. Dipmier,” Mr. Upshot said coolly. “Those devices are expensive.”
I flicked my wrist and tossed the broken camera at him. “Bill me.”
He caught it smoothly and slipped it into his lab coat pocket. “Let’s have a look at your wounds now, shall we?”
Before he could react, I lunged.
I grabbed him by the front of his coat and slammed him into the wall. My fingers closed around his thin neck and squeezed. His feet kicked uselessly, dangling off the floor.
“Where is my friend?” I snarled.
The smiley face on my shirt shifted…bright yellow bleeding into ember red. Thick brows lowered slowly. Eyes sharpened.
The smile I’d come to associate with my captors slowly tore its way across Upshot’s face.
He laughed.
It started deep in his chest—a wet, gurgling sound, forced and broken by my grip—but the glee was unmistakable. “You are so quaint, Mr. Dipmier,” he rasped. “A true youth with spunk, I’ll give you that.” He wheezed. “But you’re not going to hurt me.”
“Oh?” I growled, tightening my grip. “I could crush you like a pathetic little bug.”
He laughed harder.
“It…is not…in your…nature.”
The anger drained out of me, replaced by something worse.
Frustration.
He was right. I hated this place. Hated him even more for saying it out loud. Hated how easily these gnomes saw into me—and how powerless I was to do the same.
My grip loosened.
Fighting the vallen, creatures that killed without hesitation, was one thing. Crushing a mad scientist gnome was something else entirely.
“Tell me where Dax is.”
The laughter stopped instantly. “Do you think I would tell you?” Upshot said calmly. “Right here? Right now? I am not a fool.” He patted my hand as if I were a child. “Let me down.”
I dropped him.
He straightened slowly, rubbing his throat and smoothing his coat. “Unlike my associates, Mr. Dipmier, I am not bound by personal beliefs. I do not care whether you are the literal Gnolaum or not.”
He smiled thinly.
“You are not a gnome. You do not belong here, among us, or within these walls. Hence, you are a threat.”
My hands curled into fists.
“That beast,” he continued, “which you so disgustingly call a friend, will remain in my personal custody to ensure you walk among us as a guest—and not an antagonist.”
He really did see me as a threat. It wasn’t personal…except that he believed he was protecting his people from me.
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
“Well,” he chuckled mechanically, “I’d like to say I’d hate ending the creature’s life—but I’d be lying.” His smile vanished. “So let me be perfectly clear. If you turn on the people of this city, Dax will suffer. Using every medical and technological advancement at my disposal, I will discover exactly how much of his body he can live without.”
I swallowed.
“Now,” he said pleasantly, “shall we examine your wounds?”
The guy was a psychopath. There was nothing cute about this…this thing. And the way he said “creature” when talking about Dax—
I slumped onto the bench as he checked my arms and head.
“No open wounds. Scars fading. Completely devoid of bruising.” He nodded. “You’re a perfect specimen of health.”
“Joy.”
Two figures appeared in the doorway.
Once my eyes adjusted, it was obvious they didn’t belong here.
Too young. No lab coats.
“Is he ready?” asked the young male. Blond. Blue-eyed. Gum chewing openly. He grinned and nodded at me.
Mr. Upshot stepped aside. “You are free to go, Mr. Dipmier.”
Free to—
“Well, not totally free!” the young woman giggled.
She stepped closer, eyes wide with awe. Shoulder-length blond curls streaked dark and pulled into a ponytail. Neon-orange makeup framed green eyes. She clasped her hands dramatically.
“Ohhh…he’s handsome too,” she sighed. “Even if he is human.” Her smile lingered. “Mmmmmm.”
I suddenly felt underdressed and adjusted my shirt.
They looked…my age.
The smiley shot Upshot a wary glance.
The boy groaned. “Don’t mind Buffy, Wendell. She says that about anyone she’s not dating.” He stuck out his hand. “Kip Stump. Completely awesome to meet you, bro.”
Mr. Upshot moved between us. “Kip, I wouldn’t—”
“Oh can it, Upchuck,” Kip snapped, shoving him aside. “Go play with your test tubes.”
I bit back a laugh.
Kip flashed a wide grin. “Doesn’t matter what anyone else says. You’re the REAL Grand Champion of Trench Wars.” He elbowed me lightly as we started walking. “Do you believe that guy?”
As we entered the long, white corridor, I glanced back.
Upshot stood in the center of the hall, watching.
“Yeah,” I muttered, “…actually, I do.”
*****
The halls were an endless maze. Even if I’d gotten free, there was no way I would have escaped from…wherever this was. And I was starting to realize something worse.
I would never find Dax without help.
For nearly twenty minutes we walked, weaving around corners of flat white walls and endless silver doors. Occasionally we passed windows where small groups of gnomes in lab coats worked with chemicals, clacked away at computer consoles, or wrestled strange, furry creatures while injecting them with needles filled with colorful liquids.
Anyone who stumbled into the halls avoided us.
Tiny bodies pressed themselves flat against the walls, many squeezing their eyes shut until we passed. Others noticed us coming and slammed doors closed before we reached them.
They really were afraid of me.
Even after everything I’d tried to do…even after winning the competition…they were terrified.
I kept my eyes down after that, making a point to avoid looking at anyone except my escorts.
Kip, however, hadn’t stopped talking since we met.
He rattled on nonstop, replaying every major moment of my Trench Wars matches as if he were calling them live. Buffy, on the other hand, walked close—too close—brushing against my arm, giggling, and repeatedly trying to lace her fingers through mine. Every time I flinched away, she only smiled, sighed dramatically, and batted her eyes.
“…so I’m tellin’ you, it’s totally bunk that the trophy went to The Trinity,” Kip scoffed. “They didn’t deserve it! You kicked the trash outta them and they still strut around like they won?” He snorted. “Whatever. Such idiots.”
Then he stopped short.
“Hey—say, Wendell. You look pretty young for a human. How old are you?”
I blinked. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked me that. Not since I’d arrived from Earth, which was….how long ago?
“I just turned eighteen,” I said.
His face lit up. “Us too!”
“Us?” I asked. “As in…?”
“We’re twins,” Buffy cooed, making another grab for my hand. “Can’t you tell?”
Kip stepped between us smoothly. “Oh leave him alone, Buff. He’s got enough problems in his life. He doesn’t need to add you to the list.” He grinned up at me. “I got yer back, bro.”
The smiley on my shirt laughed silently.
Buffy huffed.
“Good thing they changed the rules this season,” Kip went on. “Used to be anyone eighteen or older could jump in a S.L.A.G., but now you have to be twenty-one to pilot. Total crock, if you ask me. But I’m just here to watch anyway.” He laughed. “Then again…being human? They probably wouldn’t have let you play in the first place.”
“No,” I smirked. “Probably not.”
We stopped in front of a bank of elevators. Kip hit the call button.
“Cool shirt, by the way,” he said. “That one of the new chip-set models? Heard they were working on animated cloth canvases, but never seen one in person.” He leaned in and poked my stomach. “Looks lifelike.”
The smiley winked at him.
Kip burst out laughing. “Cooool.”
“So where are you taking me?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
A nearby cluster of gnomes fell silent the moment we stopped talking…then scattered.
I sighed.
“Oh, we don’t mind at all!” Kip said brightly. “Ask whatever you want. Total honor hanging with you, Wendell. We’re heading up to the penthouse. Our dad sent us down to get you. Thought it’d be nicer than sending those sucky Centurion robots.”
“You only say that because you have a record,” Buffy giggled.
“Shut up, you Gowan turd!” Kip snapped. “Peeing off a catwalk doesn’t make me a criminal. It means I had to pee and didn’t wanna wet my shorts!”
Buffy gasped. “I’m telling Dad you called me a turd!”
“I said Gowan turd,” Kip grumbled. “That’s an animal dump bigger than you—but you’d know that if you did your homework.”
Buffy folded her arms and stomped her foot.
I cleared my throat to keep from laughing. “Your dad?”
Kip nodded. “President Stump’s our pop.”
“President?”
They both nodded.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
My heart kicked harder and my hand drifted instinctively to my chest. The twins seemed harmless enough…but after everything I’d seen, gnome leadership made me uneasy.
“Well, well,” a voice snickered.
Ian Twofold rounded the corner, his pasty face stretching into that unnatural grin, giant beaver-like teeth gleaming. “If it isn’t the ex–Grand Champion himself.” He strutted toward the elevators. “Children.”
Kip rolled his eyes. “Twoface.”
Ian ignored him. “Doing the city a favor by escorting young Wendell to meet your father, I see.” Then he turned to me, grinning behind oversized mirrored glasses. “I trust your accommodations have been…pleasant?”
For the first time since leaving the cell, I genuinely wanted to drop-kick someone.The mental image of Ian bouncing down the hall almost made me smile.
Almost.
“Sure,” I muttered. “If you enjoy pain, torture, and a good shock treatment.”
The elevator doors slid open.
I stepped inside. Buffy followed, still huffing. Kip was last. Before Ian could enter, Kip lifted a hand and blocked him.
“Sorry, Twoface,” he said, pressing the button. “This box is full. Catch the next one.”
The doors closed.
“He’s not gonna forget that,” Buffy warned.
Kip laughed. “Like I care. He’s a footrest for better gnomes.” He grinned. “Real Gowan turd.”
Buffy giggled.
I shifted uneasily.
This would come back on me. I knew it.
Everything I did from here on out—every smile, every friendly word—would be seen as a threat by people like Ian. Like Upshot.
“So,” Kip said suddenly, flipping around to face me, “how’d you get this job? I mean…as the Gnolaum.”
I stared between the twins. “How do you even know…?”
“He listens in on Dad’s conversations,” Buffy said helpfully.
“Ah.”
Kip ignored her. “Yeah, I know it’s not public knowledge or anything, but…did you know you were the Gnolaum?” He shrugged. “I keep thinking about it and all I get is—yeah, that’s not a job I’d sign up for. No offense.”
There was no dodging it. Why not let someone understand me for once?
“None taken,” I said. “I had no clue it was coming.”
“Seriously?” he gasped
“Seriously.”
He frowned. “Well…that kinda sucks.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Buffy asked bluntly.
“Oh shut uuup,” Kip sighed, rolling his eyes.
“No,” I said honestly. Kyliene’s face flickered through my thoughts, but I pushed it away. It was instantly replaced by thoughts of Lili, which hurt even worse. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Buffy smiled brightly. “Want one?”
“SHUT UP ALREADY!” Kip snapped. He immediately softened. “Sorry, Buff.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You didn’t have to yell.”
The anger completely faded from Kip’s face. “I know, sis. I’m sorry.”
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “Dad doesn’t let me out any more than he does you.”
“I realize that.” Kip glanced at me, embarrassed. “Sorry about that. We…don’t get many visitors. At least not the kind we get to talk to. There’s always someone trying to hurt Dad or cause problems, so we pretty much live in the tower. Guards, security systems…all of it.” He shrugged. “Unless he lets us come along on trips, but that hardly ever happens. It’s kinda lonely.”
I smiled at both of them. “I know how you feel.”
Buffy snorted softly. “I doubt that.”
“It’s true,” I said. “Back where I come from, I was the odd one out. Most people didn’t want me around, and I was told more times than I can count that I was useless.” I hesitated. “That wasn’t completely true, though. I can see that now…the more time I spend away. I always had potential. I just wasn’t willing to explore it, and the people around me got tired of trying to pry it loose.” I shrugged. “At least, that’s how it felt.”
“Man,” Kip breathed, “I never would’ve guessed.”
“I’m actually grateful you two came to get me,” I admitted. “Since I got to Clockworks, I haven’t had anyone my age to talk to. Feels…kinda nice.”
Buffy sniffed again and managed a small smile.
“So,” I said, “can I ask another question?”
Kip nodded. “Sure.”
“Is your dad…nice?”
The twins exchanged a look.
The elevator doors slid open.
“Come on in, Wendell,” Kip said brightly, clearly changing the subject. “I’ll let Dad know we’re here.” He shot Buffy a warning look. “Keep your hands off him.”
She stuck out her tongue.
Two broad-shouldered gnomes in black suits immediately stepped forward, blocking our path.
I gulped.
Kip shoved between them without hesitation. “Oh, move already! Dad asked us to bring him, you knob-heads!”
One of the guards lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Clear.”
They stepped aside and resumed their rigid stances on either side of the elevator.
Cautiously, I stepped out.
The first thing I noticed was the guards—were everywhere. At every doorway, every window. All of them in black suits and sunglasses. They looked exactly like the men from the dance club, the first time we’d gone to meet Darcy.
The image twisted in my gut. I pictured the suits piled up outside a bathroom door, just like when Shamas had found me that night.
Made me wonder what was happening with everyone I knew.
I shifted uneasily, thinking of Freak and the TNT crew being rounded up, dragged off to places like this.
“Hey, Wendell,” Kip said. “You coming?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I took one last glance over my shoulder at the suits.
The penthouse was…open. That was the best word for it.
Big, too. Bright—but not harsh. Thin slats of bleached driftwood, tinted grey-blue, lined the floors and walls, reflecting natural light that poured in from somewhere I couldn’t see. The dividing walls looked like glass, though not quite clear—translucent enough for shadows and movement, offering privacy without isolation.
It was a curious design.
Not lavish. Not cold.
Family photos lined one wall—pictures of the twins, another of them with a smiling female gnome. Bookshelves. A few paintings. Landscapes that reminded me of Humär—mountains, forests…lots of trees.
At the center of the room, a massive screen hovered above a narrow fireplace, set into a free-standing wall.
But my attention snagged on one painting.
It hung alone on its own retaining wall, overlooking a sitting area with a small couch and two plush chairs. An overly round-faced gnome smiled out from the canvas. Clean shaven. Almost yellow hair that looked a great deal like a combover.
I pointed. “Your dad?”
Buffy nodded. “Mm-hm.”
“So why is everyone scared of me,” I asked, “but not you two?” I frowned. “Ian doesn’t seem scared either.”
“I wouldn’t lump Twoface in with normal gnomes,” Buffy said. “There’s nothing normal about that yes-gnome.” She studied me, eyes lingering. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re really cute.”
“Uh-huh,” I said uneasily. The smiley gulped. “Thanks…but that’s kinda my point.”
She thought about it. “Well…I might be wrong, but maybe it’s Dax. Not you. Guilt by association.”
That stopped me. I hadn’t thought of it that way. A small spark of hope flickered—and with it, an idea. “Then why do you call Ian ‘Twoface’?”
She chuckled and leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Because he’s a freak. Me and Kip have seen and heard some pretty weird stuff when he’s around. I’ve seen him lower his glasses before—his eyes were red.” She shuddered. “Not bloodshot. Red. And his voice—it went all deep and rough and—”
“Wendell,” Kip cut in. “I’d like you to meet our father.” He was pushing a wheelchair, the wheels squeaking softly as they rolled forward. Seated in it was a solid, broad-shouldered gnome with a big almost yellow combover. He smiled warmly and tugged a small blanket higher over his withered legs. “President Stump,” Kip said formally, “I’d like to introduce Mr. Wendell Dipmier.”
The gnome extended his hand. “It’s an absolute honor to meet you, sir! May I call you Wendell?”
I shook his hand firmly. “Uh…sure.”
“Splendid! I hope you don’t mind the kids fetching you. As you can see, I’m not terribly mobile.” He shrugged. “And they spend far too much time cooped up here with me. Not exactly thrilling for young folk.”
“Dad,” Kip whispered, “he’s our age. He’s just a kid.”
“Is that so?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The President laughed. “Sir?” He patted Kip’s hand. “Did you hear that? The Gnolaum called me sir!”
The twins laughed with him.
Then he folded his hands over his broad belly and studied me intently.
“Wendell,” he said, “I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”
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