We did not have quantities of keys in Eorzea, outside of instances. Doors were either open for us, or they were not. There were gatekeepers in some places who allowed us to pass, even in those places where we could fly over the gate. So keychains were not a thing we had crafting recipes for.

We had breakfast in the lodge restaurant after our last night in the cabin. We stopped at the desk to settle our bill. I needed to add my money to the final payment, and to pay at the restaurant. That still left most of my money, but I think we will not be coming back here very often.

Husband went to the bathroom after eating. I went to the lobby and found a small merchant shop. There was food, clothing, books, pictures, small statues and jewelry. A lot of it looked the same, as if it was made with recipes. Or, as Husband might suggest, factories.

Among the jewelry were what I recognized from google as keychains, a ring on the end of a short chain with an ornamental thing at the other end. Most were round or square with pictures of the lake, or fish, or the head of a man wearing feathers, or a brown beastkin that google said was a beaver.

One keychain had what looked like a tooth as an ornament. As Husband said, this was probably not an authentically-gathered gator tooth; in fact, comparing the feel to the gator teeth in my inventory, I was not sure it was an authentic tooth at all. But it showed how to fasten a tooth to a keychain, so I picked it and a bag of pork rinds.

The young innkeeper was not an innkeeper this morning; he was the merchant in the shop. An older man was the innkeeper at the desk. The young merchant recognized me. "Morning, Mrs. Hartford. Enjoying your stay here?"

"It has been very nice. I liked the omelets in the restaurant. Do you know how they are made so fluffy?"

"Think I heard they put pancake batter in them."

"Interesting. I shall try that. Thank you."

"Sure. Uh...did you know there was a game warden asking about you two?"

"We met one in the woods yesterday. We rescued him from a gator."

"You rescued him?"

"He did not see the gator before it attacked."

"Huh. Bet he felt stupid."

"Perhaps he did. I will buy this keychain to remember him. And the pork rinds."

Pork rinds are mostly dry flakes and air. I do not know why I like them. They make me very thirsty. But there is something fascinating about the feeling on my tongue. Wikipedia says they are made of pig hide; perhaps we should hunt pigs.

We will have enough to work with for a while, though. Along with teeth, gators provided hide, meat, sinew and scalekin blood. Gator hide seems similar to raptor hide. We will continue to improve our armor.

We Returned to Wyatt and walked home. Husband filled the mower with cornoline and mowed while I vacuumed inside. We agreed we should get back to our work to remind people why they let us stay. I also emailed Myra to let her know I was available to fight, so that I could replace the thousands of dollars we spent the week before.

After starting the clothes washer I studied the keychain I had bought. The metal was the color of brass, but felt more fragile. Perhaps it was more ornamental than functional. I made three brass ingots, then used one ingot for each of the three parts: the ring, the chain and the clasp for the tooth. The parts were small enough that I could make five of a type from a single ingot. The final recipe will use one ingot plus the tooth to make a single keychain, though the first approach may be a better use of metal if I have many teeth to work with.

I made five keychains: two for us, two for the Hartmans, and one for Sam. Husband was happy with his; he put three keys on it right away. Then he gave me a key.

"What is this?"

"It's for the workshop. I've got a lock I'll install if Trevor's done with the lights. In fact..." He produced another key. "...put this on Sam's ring. Landlord gets a key."

I had one key for the Hartman house before. Now I have two keys. I have keys, and a phone, and a home, and an email address, and jobs and money and a vehicle. More and more I become like everyone else in this world. I still do not have identity. But I have normalcy.

We went to the Pit and found that Trevor was indeed done with the lights. Husband found a switch near the door and made the room brightly lit. We now have a workshop.

Husband started working on the door. I took the key to Sam. He looked at the keyring with interest. "This ain't from an Oklahoma gator, right?"

"Of course not."

"Good to know."

"May I borrow a stool?"

"Sure. Just don't ferget y'already owe me a table."

The first thing Husband made in the workshop was a table. The first thing I made was a stool. The table was bigger and took more wood, but the stool took longer because I needed to write the recipe. Of course, the table will sit in the workshop for the next two days because Earth people cannot make tables in two hours. The stools I made will stay in the workshop unless we start breaking Sam's stools.

As I worked on my stools, Husband determined that our computers will work in the workshop, that we are "in range" of the wifi router in the bar. So we can type and email and research and craft in the workshop. We can do these things in other places, but this is our place.

Husband is once again not telling me something, but at least he is telling me that he is not telling me. He has set up a table at one end of the workshop and has spread a large sheet of paper on it. He says he has ideas for projects. The first project will be a bicycle, to see if I can supply components without actually building it.

The next project, he said, is a "surprise". He talked once again about me being a "double-blind test subject". I will consent to being used this way, since it is "informed" consent.

The children were happy to see us at the diner in the evening. The Hartmans were happy with the keychains. Deputy Frank was Deputy Frank.

This is now our normalcy.