"Sometimes I wonder," he said, sounding more serious than a jest would warrant. It was difficult at times when he knew his people had problems with Meredith, shared them with him, and then asked that he not pass the concerns up the chain. How could she know that some of her decisions were causing rumblings if no one was willing to speak out?

"Sorry, Max. I don't make the calls," he said, shooting a smile the dog's way. He wondered how the shells could be cleaned well enough to prevent decomposition. Did they decay? He hadn't spent enough time consistently walking up and down beaches to know for sure. All he knew was that dead crabs smelled bad enough to send him heading in the other direction with a hand to his nose.

"I don't think I have the fingers for knitting. I used to watch my mother sometimes. She made it look very easy." He wiggled his thick fingers and glanced at them. "I'd have to supervise. You could retire. Somebody would have to stay on the rest of them to keep them productive."