Sam was practically bouncing when she came home in the late afternoon. Rebecca finished taking down the last of the indoor clotheslines and looked at her quizzically. "What stash of sugar did you find that you're not sharing?"

Sam hadn't even bothered kicking off her ankle-height boots and strode quickly across the front room. "In a minute. Where's your phone?"

"You say that like you're my mother and I'm about to be grounded. Only you're way too happy about it?" She nodded towards the kitchen counter, where she'd briefly turned it on to look at a recipe note.

Detouring to pick it up while Rufus polished off the contents of his food dish after an afternoon outside, Sam ushered Rebecca out onto the balcony. When Sam handed the phone to her, Rebecca continued to look at her like she was some kind of three-eyed plant but powered it up obediently. She wondered if there was something Sam knew she was going to want a picture of, but didn't spot anything significant outside though.

"Turn on your Wi-Fi."

"What?" Rebecca blinked but hastily swiped to the quick-access control panel to disable airplane mode. She tapped into the network settings, and after a few moments of staring at the churning pinwheel, a cryptically named network appeared, flickering between two and three bars of signal. As the sight unlocked the muscles holding her jaw up, Sam plucked the phone from her hand and typed in a password before passing it back.

Without hesitation, Rebecca opened the folder with all of her messaging apps in it and waited breathlessly, praying she'd see little red numbers appearing. Sam had stepped over to her side and was looking past her shoulder, and sounded contrite.

"Sorry, sugar. It's local only. Well, sort of local. It turns out one of the random dudes we rescued at the farm is a total nerd, and they stopped by his house on the way to the airfield. Or maybe his mother's basement. Either way, he apparently got a Linux server running on a low power consumption Raspberry Pi and a couple of mesh access points."

Rebecca was still looking at the phone, but lifted an eyebrow as she glanced briefly away at Sam. "I recognize all of those words well enough to understand what they mean, but not what they mean. Boil it down into normie muggle-speak for me?"

"There's a super rudimentary network running in the courtyard, with a low-speed link to another one at the airfield, where he's running a mail server just for civilians and personal traffic. I put a bunch of names down on the list for accounts, he should make 'em tonight when the convoy elements go back."

"Goodness. Okay. Not quite the earthshaking miracle you had me dreaming of, but it's still a nice surprise."

"Right? I'd much rather just share my spreadsheet with him over Google Docs, but hey. Baby steps."

"Just spreadsheets? You're not gonna aim for, like, video games or something?"

"Says the one who sat on the couch and played games for the last week." She squinted at Rebecca teasingly. "Should I be worried about him?"

Rebecca just kissed Sam on the cheek then carefully slid her phone into a pocket. She peered over the balcony edge, surveying the activity below. "So what's the scoop with the big haul?"

Sam was clearly pleased by the affection as she flipped her hair back and joined Rebecca at the railing. "Now that people from the farm are arriving, Fairbanks gained a bunch of hands that aren't stretched thin with patrols or guard duty. He gave 'em all a couple of solid meals and some roofs over their heads, and then immediately took anyone he could carefully cajole to a specific handful of nondescript warehouses in the burbs. Did you know that CVS had a huge distribution center here?" Rebecca shook her head as Sam absentmindedly patted Rufus where he'd nudged his way hopefully between them. "Neither did I. Apparently nobody else did either, because they were only a little trashed. Probably looted by those who worked there, but not much else. So we got a smattering of nonperishables and meds, plus a fuckton of housewares stuff. There was a Pepsi warehouse across the street too."

Rebecca made a conflicted face. "I know I shouldn't be picky, but damn, if only it had been a Coke one."

"Yeah, I'll grant you that, most of Pepsi's stuff is too cloying for me, but hey, Mountain Dew. Yay caffeine."

"Eh. I guess." Rebecca watched the forklift extract a large plastic bin from the semi trailer, filled with myriad relics of consumerism. "Is Mom caught up in getting that all settled?"

"You know it. I think she's found her niche here, though I'm a little worried she'll end up bonding with Chrissie more than me!" They shared a brief grin as Sam continued. "She's bringing us a couple bags of chips when things settle down for the night. They might be a bit stale, but hey."

"Oh god, that'll make the next bowl of rice and beans so much more appealing. I didn't know how serious food boredom could get until six months ago. But, farm folks. Did you hear anything about Landry? Last I asked Ronnie, she just knew he was still 'upright and accounted for'."

Sam nodded towards the convoy of vehicles, which seemed to be preparing to leave without the trailer. "Davis, the guy who went into the apartments with us, is leading that escort. Sounds like our very 'brotherly' friend is still on light duty, put to use liaising between Fairbanks' chain of command and the civilians moving in across the street. Head of the neighborhood watch, as it were."

Rebecca couldn't fight back her grin. "I'm sure a certain single mom is happy about that."

"I'm sure Dylan is very concerned about making sure he's healing comfortably and that the group's communal gratitude is adequately expressed."

"Hah." Rebecca looked down at the swarm of personnel and residents descending on the large palette box immediately after the forklift set it down and returned to the truck for another. Two separate human chains were already forming as those closest to the box seemed to be sorting the contents to the different lines based some logic her mother no doubt had a part in. "So is it open season, or..."

"Davis says the stuff they took to the airfield and... I guess we'll call it the 'new' farm is freely available to households who live and work there. Scarce items are set aside for need-based distribution, but as he put it, 'anyone who wants a pair of flip-flops or a toothbrush can have them'. For now, it sounds like they're just trying to help people put down roots and worry about distribution models after foundations are laid. Apparently Ronnie gets discretion on how to handle it here since she knows the scene."

"I'm willing to bet she both appreciates and resents that."

"Probably equal odds with Dylan and 'Nicholas' sleeping together in spite of the busted rib."

"Wow, babe."

Sam rolled her eyes and headed back inside. "Okay, fine. Made out. Puritan."

**

The sudden influx of household goods accelerated the process of getting Laura moved in two doors down. She still spent most mealtimes with the girls — cooking for three was only slightly more effort than one or two, and another pair of hands for cleanup continued to be a welcome alleviation. New strings of holiday lights added low amperage illumination to the courtyard and stairwells, and dozens of mirrors were added to foyers, bouncing daylight down the hallways. Overall, the 'brighten up the place' metaphor became somewhat heavy-handed, but the plummeting count of stumbles and stubbed toes in the dark made up for it.

Rebecca was helping her mother settle in, unloading a laundry basket of kitchen goods while Laura transferred folded garments onto a set of newly obtained hangers. She'd just set up the dish drainer for the glasses and plastic plateware she was rinsing when a quiet huff drew her attention. "Mom? What's up?"

Sighing, Laura put down the light jacket she'd just threaded a hangar into. "Oh, just having a little moment of deja vu. It reminds me of settling into the beach vacation rental, the first trip we took together as an adult. Or putting together a new apartment your first year out of the dorms."

Rebecca plunked a cheap paring knife into the drainer. "Really? Between us, we're one adult? We're lucky Sam isn't here."

"You don't think she teases you too much?"

Here came the long-withheld grilling. Rebecca supposed that as much as they were all seeing each other, and intense as events had been, a few weeks wasn't so bad of a timeline for the inevitable 'not good enough for her baby' carping to bubble to the surface. "No, stop worrying. You know damned well she'll tear into anyone else who makes fun of me — well, except for you and Ronnie, or Chrissie and Pat... and Allie and Leonard and goddammit I'm just that much of an easy target, aren't I." Rebecca laughed in amused chagrin. "Well, it's okay. It probably toughens me up a little."

Laura smirked as she hefted a stack of loaded hangers over her shoulder. "You probably like it anyway."

"Jesus, Mom. Phrasing. You sound like Sam when she's feeling raunchy."

Her mother called back from the bedroom hallway. "I don't need to know those kind of details! I — "

"Yeah, I know, you heard too much already. Blah blah blah." Rebecca grumbled under her breath as she stacked a set of wet pots inverted on a new towel she'd laid out across the counter. She hoped any retroactive blush faded before her mother came back.

Laura was still smirking, but gently, when she returned. "I can't really judge. About the teasing, I mean. God knows your father and I tried to avoid traumatizing you that other way."

"Until now! Jeez."

A lackadaisical hand-wave dismissed her indignation. "It took a few dates for me to realize what I was getting into. He was a consummate—"

"I don't need to hear about consummating anything, Mom."

Laura just narrowed her eyes at Rebecca. "— professional the entire time he and his small crew were finishing the kitchen. I believe the first thing he teased me about was taking so long to realize the plummeting price on materials, practically to wholesale by the time he gave me a quote for the bath and laundry room, was because he was interested in me."

Rebecca had meandered around the kitchen peninsula to stand near her mother by the dining table, and smiled. "Okay, that is kinda cute. But don't tell Sam that story please, she'll get both of us about how long we both took to figure that out."

"Is that so?" Laura waved Rebecca towards the couch, and proceeded to grill her about the lead-up to realizing she and Sam were an item. In particular, she gently needled Rebecca about not recognizing all of the hotheaded protectiveness might have been a sign, but hearing about it also seemed to further warm her to Sam. In return, Rebecca learned how her father had misinterpreted Laura's overwhelming gratitude from getting her out of the lurch a previous, far less scrupulous contractor had left her in. He'd thought the invitation to come over for the first fancy dinner she cooked in the new kitchen was just for him, not him and his crew. Rebecca couldn't help giggling at the description of how full they both were and the weekend worth of leftovers they split up... and his months-later confession that he'd shared none of it with his guys.

She eventually sighed happily, looking out the window with her mouth resting against her knuckles. "I guess I didn't have much experience realizing when someone's into me, what with dating apps sorta taking care of that for me and just stupid high school shit before. Which is stupid, because intellectually, I knew the basic tells from classes. Dilated eyes, leaning inward, hair tosses, open body postures, speech mirroring." She waved the hand she'd been resting against for emphasis, drifting it past the pendant's bump under her shirt on the way back down.

"You still miss him."

She shifted her gaze from the window to eye contact with her mother. "Of course. The other day when Sam showed me the wifi was sort of up, before I turned the phone off, I glanced at the last few messages he sent me. Mundane stuff, like confirming when he was coming over or a really cheesy meme." She laughed nostalgically. "Bless him, he was so terrible at that. Sam's light-years better and she doesn't even have a functioning internet to rely on anymore. Maybe it was part of his charm."

She sighed, and the pause gave her the opportunity to notice a hint of concern creeping into her mother's expression. "I wasn't... spiraling or anything. This time, at least. I guess it just tied back into my fear of forgetting things, especially him."

Laura nodded. "Okay. You can see why I'd worry."

"Yeah."

"I get it, though. Again, very much like with your father. Sam doesn't get jealous?"

"She says she doesn't, and I try to be sensitive about it, to be careful. Hoping that a tiny bit of worry will keep me mindful. God, she's been so patient, Mom. It's probably one of the biggest things I appreciate about her."

"Does she know that?"

Rebecca hesitated. "I mean... I hope so? Now you're going to make me worry. I don't know how to bring it up without adding back onto the pile. Like 'Hey, thanks for putting up with all my moping, but let me remind you about all my moping while I'm at it' or something."

"Mm. Well, I don't even have to guess that you're doing it for her about her mother, and worrying like mad about tiptoeing with me being here. Just make sure she knows you appreciate her in general, and since that's such a part of who she is, it'll be included."

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah. Hopefully." She turned her head to gaze out the window again. "Mom, do you ever wish you could go back? Like... I'm so grateful that you're here safe and God knows I'm happy about Sam, but... I just wish there was some way to undo all the bad things and keep all the good ones too."

"Sweetheart. The last thing I want to do is discourage you from sharing your feelings, but oh my god, duh. Of course I do. What I wouldn't do to spare you all the hurt, or the years without your father. To see what growing older with him would have been like, and a hip that I didn't have a reciprocally hateful relationship with."

She looked back at her mother again. "Okay. I didn't mean for it to sound so stupid."

"Stop it, before I call Sam."

Rebecca chuckled and looked down at her hand. "Yeah, alright. You know, I thought of Dad a bit yesterday." She lifted a mostly-healed scraped knuckle to show it to Laura. "The way I used to fret about the tiniest little nick and not understand why he didn't need a bandage for them, just like me. And now here I am doing the same thing, shrugging it off once I'm sure it won't get infected. It... almost feels like a connection to him, a little understanding now."

Laura took Rebecca's hands and ran her fingertips over them, like she was exploring all the callouses that had formed in the last year and a half. "I hate what the world's put you through, but you've made the best of things despite it all. I guess you do have a lot of him in you."