Earth
It was around three-fifty when Lois stepped into Rhapsody Knits, and the ringing sound of a tiny bell tinkling touched her ears. The materials and instruments of the knitter’s craft was curiously welcoming after the bullpen’s frantic pace. Rhapsody Knits was tucked away on Napier Avenue, not too far from what was once Suicide Slum. After extensive urban renewal brought about by MetroCorp, the area was now going by the neighborhood’s original colonial name: Cobble Hill. Not only was this local yarn shop a place to feast your eyes and hands on yarns with glorious colors, patterns, and textures, it was a haven where a working woman could leave behind the city’s hustle and swirl to settle down in a quiet place filled with inspiration for knitting artisans, both experts and absolute beginners.
Happily, surrounded by all lovely accouterments of the knitter’s craft, Lois took in a long breath and relaxed, allowing her mind to unwind. Whenever she stepped into the shop, life seemed to slow down to a pace approaching normal. This was a sensation she only experienced in two other places: Clark’s apartment and on the Kent farm.
A petite Asian woman in her early fifties stepped out from behind an upright wooden display case. On its countertop sat, a cash register. The shelves at the front of the case displayed different types of colorful project bags and small metal boxes to hold needles, stitch markers and tiny scissors. “Lois Lane, ace reporter for the Daily Planet, is on time for a change? What happened?” Grace Chen said cheerfully.
Groaning, the younger woman said, “Oh come on! Am I always late?”
Grace held up four slender fingers and said, “Four times this month.”
Lois remembering the appointments that she was late for and sighed in agreement. “Guilty as charged. But today my article was ready in plenty of time for me to come down here.”
“Never mind. I simply had to tease you! Jean is in the back getting ready. Miss Winley departed a few minutes ago. I’m so glad that glorious ice blue wool sweater is done. She’s been working on it for years.”
“What took so long?” Lois asked curiously.
“Sometimes a knitter falls in love with a pattern; the yarn’s feel and color simply plead to be taken up and created into a garment which will last for years. Perhaps even longer than the knitter. Sadly, as in Miss Winley’s case, she bit off more of a pattern than she could chew. It was a little beyond her skills set at the time. But thankfully, her abilities have improved and so now the sweater is done. Thank goodness! Neither Jean nor I wanted the garment to end up as a UFO.”
Puzzled, Lois said, “Come again? A UFO?”
A cheerful voice was heard from the back of the store, “Unfinished Object. Hello, Lois. Please don’t forget to pick up Martha’s yarn. The hand is simply scrumptious, so I’ve ordered three skeins of my own for a shawl project done in the Tunisian crochet stitch.”
Dr. Jean Carter, the former head of Metropolis General’s Obstetrics Department, was a tall angular woman, with gentle, knowing blue eyes and short gray hair. She entered from the back room and gave Lois a warm hug. “Ready to work on that sweater?
Lois response was eager. “Yeah, let’s get started!”
Jean tilted her head slightly to the side and said, “I’m proud of you. Most beginners, after knitting a few washcloths, make a scarf using either garter or stockinette stitch, not one as notoriously difficult, as herringbone.”
Lois bit her lower lip and said softly. “It’s for Clark. I … I wanted to create something exceptional.”
The two older women responded with respectful silence, which Lois appreciated more than platitudes. Learning how to knit was something Martha had suggested the first night after the courier’s arrival. She felt Lois needed to do more than dive even further into investigative work. At this stressful stage in her life, a creative outlet was required to give her a way to relax and interact with people outside of her profession. Besides being an accomplished knitter, Grace was a mutual friend of Lois’ Uncle Mike. She considered it a joy teaching a hard driving career woman like Lois to work with yarn and knitting needles. Such a skill would help her maintain a balance with her mental and emotional health during this very difficult time.
Clearing her throat, Jean said, “I have no doubt he will love it. But first, it has to be finished. Let’s see what’s been done so far.”
A nervous Lois reached into the bulging camel-colored briefcase and pulled out a beige canvas bag which was crammed to bursting. The scarf was rolled around ugly gray plastic size eight knitting needles which were almost bent in half. Unfortunately, this caused the stitches to slide off and unravel.
Lois squeaked in dismay. “All my work!”
Jean gave her a bemused smile, took the tangle of yarn from the bewildered young woman, and said in a crisp voice. “Oh dear. We need to perform emergency rescue procedures! Stat! Grace, a pair of #8 steel circular needles.”
Grace said with a perfectly straight face. “Yes Doctor! What about needle tip guards?”
“That would be excellent. I will be in the back with the patient. Why don’t you show Lois what we are talking about? No doubt, she is a little confused.” With those words, Jean took the tangled yarn and canvas bag into the classroom.
“The nice lady at the Handy Hobby store said those grey plastic needles would be perfect.” Lois said sadly.
“Of course she did …amateurs!” Grace muttered as she led her charge over to the wall where knitting needles, crochet hooks, tapestry needles and other tools of the craft hung in neat rows labeled alphabetically by manufacturer and then by size.
“Jean suggested steel circular needles, but maybe wooden ones might feel better?” Grace pulled colorful bamboo needles as well as a popular brand of pointy tipped steel needles made in Germany. Lois rubbed her hands over both kinds and imagined working up the sweater with these particular needles.
“The steel ones feel better in my hands.”
Grace nodded. “The cashmere and merino blend you chose for Clark’s scarf will move effortlessly over these needles. Cheap plastic ones do not allow for such ease of movement. After working with them for a few minutes you’ll feel the difference and the stitches will move much faster between the needles.” She gave Lois two hard, purple plastic caps that looked like elongated pyramids. “Oh, take these needle guards as well. That ought to keep any stitches from slipping off. Better hurry, Jean should be ready for you.”
Lois eyebrows shot up. “That quickly? The sweater was a tangled mess!”
“No. To the unpracticed eye, it looked much worse than it really was.” The shop owner said with a twinkle in her brown eyes.
Suddenly the doorbell tinkled, and two middle-aged ladies entered chattering gaily, each carrying colorful knitting project bags. Grace excused herself and went to attend to them.
Tentatively holding the cool steel needles, Lois walked into the spacious backroom where Jean was sitting at a long wooden table. In front of her lay Clark’s sweater, now securely attached to steel circular needles which were a perfect match for the ones Lois held.
“The sweater looks like it did this morning when I put it in the bag!” she exclaimed.
“Something indeed did happen! You are creating a garment Mr. Kent is going to cherish for a long time. Your workmanship – despite the small tangle - is impressive. The gauge and tension are exactly as the pattern calls for! Have a seat and get comfortable. This next hour is going to be fun! Now, the herringbone stitch knits up into a thick, squishy fabric, so it’s good you are using #8 needles rather than #6, which is what this yarn usually calls for. Remember that with a the herringbone stitch, you should always go one size larger than what the pattern calls for. Otherwise it will be too tight. Now it’s time to transfer the yarn from my #8 needles to yours.”
Determined to continue working on her gift to Clark, Lois took up the needles. Jean watched in silent approval as her charge navigated the shuttle of movement between cashmere and steel.
Once the last stitch had been transferred, Jean said, “Great first row! Now, the stitches on the right needle itself, their fate is yet to be decided.”
Lois’ heart swelled with pride. She was rapidly knitting what was for her a beginner, a very complex stitch! Jean saying, ‘their fate is yet to be decided,’ meant either the stitch would be simple stockinette or something more complex. An hour flew by. She was so absorbed in the work she didn’t hear the doorbell tinkle or Grace call out a greeting. But the man’s voice that responded caught her attention. The peaceful symphony of relaxed movement was forgotten as she clutched the needles hard, and if they had been made of bamboo, she probably would have broken them.
“Hello, Mrs. Chen. Lois had praised this place to everyone in the bullpen. I work with her at the Daily Planet. My name is Talmadge, Paul Talmadge. I know she’s in the middle of a knitting lesson and normally interrupting her would be the last thing on my mind … but we just got a break on a story we’re investigating …” His voice trailed off.
Jean noticed her student’s reaction and asked with concern in her voice. “Lois, who is that man?”
Lois groaned and rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I told that …that interloper to stay away from here! He’s my soon-to-be ex-partner!” She checked where she was in the two-row design pattern, marked it down on her paper and carefully put the scarf down. She deeply resented Paul’s disruption.
At that moment, Talmadge entered the back room, followed by a concerned Grace.
Lois stood up, fists clenched and said, “What are you doing here? This is my personal time! Whatever the break is, can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
He sighed, fully expecting this kind of reaction, and put his hands on the back of the chair she had just vacated. “Bill Henderson called me. They arrested Simcoe,” he said flatly.
***
An hour later, Lois stood in front of a two-way mirror of the main interrogation room of the 22nd Precinct. On the other side of the mirror, seated on a decrepit, wooden chair in front of rickety wooden table that had also seen better days, sat a tall man with dark, curly, hair. Simcoe, despite being interviewed by Detective Reed in her take-no-prisoners style, was perfectly at ease, his gray eyes utterly devoid of emotion. His right hand was wrapped in thick bandages.
“Why was he arrested?” Lois asked.
Bill Henderson answered drily, “He tried to assault Dr. Siebert earlier this evening while the doctor was closing the office. Seems our boy was not happy with that RoxxTen article, especially since you named him as an overzealous company rep who attempted to put undue pressure on a particular doctor.”
Lois shook her head in disbelief. “Why would he do something so senseless thing?
Henderson continued, a tiny smile pulling at his thin lips. “Heh! The idiot shouldn’t have done it. The good doctor may be tapping on seventy, but he got the drop on him! He broke his hand with a paperweight.”
“That must have been some paperweight!” the usually unruffled Talmadge said with a low whistle.
Henderson’s smile expanded into a genuine grin and then he said admiringly. “Yeah, a chunk of granite brought back from his tour of duty in Europe during WWII. According to the good doctor, it diverted a sniper’s bullet and now years later it’s saved him again.”
Lois said triumphantly, “Ha! Molly said he was not a man to be messed with! Where is he now?”
“Giving a sworn statement to the assistant D.A., Mayson Drake. Maybe you might want to chat with her when they’re done?”
Although their relationship had reached a peaceful settlement, Lois still did not actively seek out the counselor. “Mayson? Uh, not right now Henderson. I have to get back to the Planet and write a follow-up to the original article.”
Talmadge broke in quickly. “Don’t you mean ‘we’ have to write a follow-up? Besides, Siebert’s gotta be interviewed. It’ll make a great sidebar.”
Before Lois could answer, Detective Reed stormed out of the interrogation room, wearing an unruly expression that matched her red hair, coiled in a messy bun. Opening the door to their room, she snapped, “That low-life scum refuses to talk! He smirked at me. Bill, I bet my next paycheck someone’s protecting him!”
“Figures.” Henderson said gruffly. “Now; might be a good time to go to my office.”
Talmadge was about to speak, but Lois laid a restraining hand on his arm. Wordlessly, they both got up and followed Henderson and Reed into his office. Henderson, who folded his tall spare frame into the chair like a utility knife sat behind the wide desk.
This office always amazed Lois. It was if the personal items displayed were at odds with the man in front of her. Hanging on the wall were three large, framed documents: one from New Troy University, one from Metropolis Police Academy and a much smaller citation for bravery in the line of fire. On the wooden credenza were family photos, including one with Bill and his wife Midge on their wedding day, taken over thirty years ago. Several others were of their children and two grandchildren. There were two small metal replicas of antique cars, one a Ford Model-T and another of a grand touring car of the roaring twenties. She knew he had a fondness for that era’s cars and whenever there was an antique car show in town he always attended.
The bookshelf on the left side of the wall held several volumes on local Metropolis laws and police procedure. But on the middle shelf were well-thumbed books on deep-sea fishing, another of the laconic police officer’s passions and one which he shared with Midge. Here was a loving family man who wanted to serve his community and friends as best he could. It was a far cry from the official, dour face he presented to the world.
When they were seated, Lois spoke first. “We need to cut him loose and find out who his masters are.”
Henderson’s expression was not a pretty one. “No way, Lane. You don’t get to make those decisions. That nut job nearly killed Dr. Siebert. He doesn’t get to walk the streets again. We’ll find a way to make him talk. If not, then the state of New Troy can put him away someplace where he can’t cause any further harm. The trial will be quick and easy. Doc Siebert is more than ready to testify.”
Lois snapped back. “Are you kidding me? Here’s a perfect chance to not just make a dent in this case, but to crack it wide open! Now is not the time to play it safe. Who knows how many other doctors are being bullied by ‘customer reps’ like Simcoe! These guys won’t just be local menaces in New Troy and surrendering states, they will become dangerous entrepreneurs and make health care cost ten times more expensive than it is already!”
Henderson glared at Lois, his frustration showing in his body language. “I don’t like it any more than you do Lane. I know that Doctor Siebert is no slouch! He gave an impressive accounting of himself when Simcoe tried to assault him. Nevertheless, he is still the victim of a crime and as such he deserves not to have his attacker released as if his crime was jaywalking! Simcoe stays in police custody the full forty-eight hours and then gets his court hearing. If no one posts bail, he stays.”
The silence that blanketed the room was gloomy and only served to highlight the frustration felt by everyone present.
Before it became unbearable, Detective Reed cleared her throat and said carefully. “Bill, much as I hate to agree with Lane, she may have a point here.”
Before the harried detective could answer, Talmadge broke out of his customary silence and spoke. “Simcoe has been officially charged. When is his court date set for?”
Henderson growled. “Probably next Thursday. I hope the judge sets his bail really high, like northwards of twenty thousand.”
“If it weren’t for his connection to Intergang and the RoxxTen mess, his bail wouldn’t be so high dollar. But hear me out. If Simcoe is important to Intergang, their mouthpiece will cover bail. Then we can put a tail on Simcoe. See who he meets up with,” Detective Reed said.
“Uh, Ms. Lane and I can help,” Talmadge offered. “We can keep an eye on Simcoe as well, perhaps by going undercover?”
Lois, who was thrilled about the prospect of going undercover, piped up. “Yes! Wanda Detroit can make a comeback, blend into the background, and watch him. Maybe Talmadge can do the same.”
“Lane, don’t make me laugh! All the vermin in Suicide Slum know who ‘Wanda’ really is! While government agent doesn’t exactly scream off him, Paul doesn’t quite fit in with that rough and tumble landscape.” Henderson scowled.
Christine Reed rubbed her chin. “I don’t know. They may have somethin’ here, Bill. There are a couple of our guys in the Narcotics department, Javier and Ryan, who can help out undercover, at least for a bit. If we can link Simcoe to Bill Church or to one of his lieutenants in a criminal conversation related to this case, then we’ve got them.”
Henderson snorted, “Criminal conversation? Reed, you’ve been watching too many British detective dramas. Still, it might work. But if we let Simcoe loose and he vanishes without a trace, it’ll be my head on the chopping block. Can you pull those guys in to help Christine? After all, they are in deep cover.” Henderson asked.
Detective Reed gave him a long and focused look but chose not to respond to the comment. She pushed back her chair, full of energy and said. “Give me ten minutes! Captain Montgomery owes me more than a few favors. If Intergang is as wrapped up with the lower-rung bad boys as we think, then workin’ with us helps them.”
“Great. But make sure that writer guy Castle doesn’t show up. He’s chummy with Javier and Ryan! We have enough writers involved already!” Henderson growled, looking at Lois and Talmadge.
Christine smiled mischievously and said, “What about Beckett? She might want in on the action as well.”
The laconic detective’s face flushed red. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself and then said, “Not on your life! That woman is a lightning rod for trouble! Just bring Javier and Ryan in. No reason to have their whole crew meddling in our case.”
“Henderson, you worry too much!” Reed scoffed. On that final note, she departed the office.
Henderson turned a baleful look on Lois and growled, “Are you happy Lane? If Simcoe gets out and threatens Doctor Siebert in any way, that might blow our case.”
Lois said confidently, “Nothing will happen to Doctor Siebert. Something tells me that if anyone tries to get near that man they are going to regret it to their dying day.”
Henderson pretended not to hear and said, “Maybe. But as of today, he’s getting protection. I’ll have a couple of uniforms sitting in a car outside his office… just in case.”
Lois stood up, ready to leave. “We need to get back to the Planet and get this article written up.”
Bill’s lips pulled into a tight smile. “Glad to hear you writing again with your old enthusiasm. Speaking of writing, Lane, how is the new partnership going?”
Lois glared at him, jerked a thumb over to Talmadge and said, “So my FBI shadow is here because of you?”
Sensing the volatile conversation to come, Talmadge got up from his chair and said, “I am going to see if the doctor is available for an interview.” He then slipped out of the room without another word.
The detective looked at the closed door, turned to Lois and said, “I have a personal stake in this. Clark’s your fiancé and my friend. If … no, when he gets home from New Krypton, he doesn’t need to find out you were hurt or heaven forbid, killed on my watch – despite the fact that you are determined to jump into one of the most dangerous cases of your career. Sure, you’ve tangled with some rough customers, but Bill Church and his bunch are a different kettle of rotten fish.”
She answered frostily, “I appreciate the concern, but what is it with everybody? I’ve been in tight corners before, and I can handle Church and his cronies!”
“Maybe so Lois, but car thieves, high-end scam artists and even the occasional corrupt, disgruntled senator are small-time compared to Bill Church. He is an international bad guy, he makes Lex Luthor look like an amateur!”
Lois wanted to snap at him, be Mad Dog Lane, but somehow she couldn’t summon enough anger to do it. She and the terse detective had started out as adversaries, but over time a friendly, grudging respect had developed for each other’s abilities. If he felt having a shadow around was for her benefit, so be it, even if the ‘shadow’ was the first person she really felt was special to her… only to stab her in the back by seeing Linda on the side. Bill Henderson was completely unaware of hers and Talmadge’s shared history. And Lois preferred it that way.
With a rub of her chin, she said, “Okay, Bill, you win. Meanwhile, the ‘Shadow’ and I have to get back to work and write up this article about Simcoe’s arrest for tomorrow’s morning edition.”
Bill got up and walked her to the door. “What is it with Talmadge? It’s not that you and the Feds have ever gotten along, but the tension between you and this guy is … unusual. What did he do? Steal your favorite Number 2 pencil?
“None of your business!” Forgetting her previous resolve, her response was fiercer than intended.
Behind Bill’s steel framed glasses, his eyebrows shot up in shock. A moment passed, then in a surprisingly gentle voice, he said. “Lois, I’ve known you a long time. Longer than your fiancé has. If this Talmadge fella is giving you any kind of grief, I can make a phone call and he’s on a plane back to D.C.”
Genuinely touched by his concern, she said, “Sorry. Agent Talmadge is nothing I can’t handle. Thanks for being so considerate about my protection. See you later.”
The detective nodded, picked up a file from his desk. Before Lois closed the door, she heard him say as a way of farewell, “Clark invited Midge and me to the wedding and we have every intention of going!”
When Lois was gone, Bill Henderson continued to stare out the door after her. His normally stoic face held an apprehensive expression. “Nothing, my elbow! There is something ‘off’ about those two working together. I bet my pension on it!”
Outside Henderson’s office, Lois saw Talmadge leaning against the wall. Upon seeing her, he quickly straightened up and said, “Doctor Siebert gave me a condensed version of what happened. I get the impression he’s tired of telling the story and is ready to go home. Everything all right with Detective Henderson?”
With a flash of irritation, she said, “Just peachy! Come on, we’ve got a story to write!”
***
After a swift taxi ride across town, they found themselves walking down the bullpen’s ramp, just as Perry was exiting his office to leave.
“Where have you two been? The paper was put to bed hours ago.”
Talmadge spoke before his partner could get the words past her lips. “Mr. White, I have a new story. More of a follow-up on the RoxxTen case ...”
Lois rolled her eyes and thought, <Oh no, not again!> She interrupted him by saying, “In point of fact, Perry, we have a new angle on the RoxxTen case. It seems that the former company representative Simcoe broke into Dr. Siebert’s office with the intention of harming the doctor.”
Talmadge, realizing his mistake, tried to cover it by jumping on board with her, “Yeah, according to Lois, this World War II veteran does not frighten easily. While she was talking to Detective Henderson, I got a quick interview with him. In any case, there’s a plan to use Simcoe’s arrest and release in order to smoke out the other Intergang snakes involved with RoxxTen.”
Perry whistled and then said, “Elvis would be proud! Well, don’t just stand there! Get moving. We can get the article ready for the morning edition, it will be below the fold …”
“Chief, this is a follow-up to the RoxxTen scandal! It has to go above!” Lois protested.
“Lois, back that train up. I’m still the editor around here. The Hennessey Whiskey company’s main refinery blew up today. That refinery has been open for more than a hundred years – its destruction is a tragedy and fresh news! There was damage aplenty and a lot of folks are going to be affected. Applegate and Peters are covering that story. A story you would be covering if you hadn’t gone to Napier Avenue for ‘personal’ reasons.”
She blushed. No one had known about today’s knitting appointment at Rhapsody Knits except Talmadge. She glared at her temporary partner and to his credit he did not turn away.
He spoke softly, “My job is to protect you, Lois, which means letting Perry know where you are at all times.”
“Yeah.” She answered bitterly. “Fine! The story goes below the fold, but only because of the explosion.” With those words, she stormed down the ramp and over to her desk. Talmadge, knowing he was in trouble, slipped unobtrusively into the large wooden desk that was originally Clark’s.
The big bear of a man smiled down at her. “Right! I’m the editor of this newspaper, not Lois Lane!”
“For now!” she answered back.
Despite himself, Perry chuckled, actually grinned even wider as he walked up the ramp. The working relationship between Lane and Talmadge still had its rough spots. Lois -- when pushed -- could temporarily work with anyone, with the definite exception of Ralph, to get the job done. It was great to have one half of the hottest team in town back.
***
Later that evening, Lois was sitting on the couch looking over research for another story. A large plate held a colorful, heathy salad which contained among other things avocados, shrimp, cucumbers, fresh thyme, arugula, and tomatoes. When she was in mourning over Clark’s departure, her normally healthy diet had gone out the window. In what seemed like a blink of an eye, none of her clothing fit. Now she was on a mission to rectify that situation. Between eating more vegetables, cutting out red meat and working out five days a week, she could both see and feel a difference in her body. Suddenly her phone rang.
“Hi, stranger! Where have you been hiding?” Molly Flynn’s light voice came over the phone.
Lois laughed. “Tracking down the bad guys as per usual! Speaking of bad guys, let me tell you what happened today ...”
After listening to her friend recount what took place at the precinct, Molly said, “Let me get this straight. Dr. Siebert was attacked by that creepy Simcoe guy?”
“Yes, so we are using Simcoe to get to the higher-ups at Intergang. But that’s not the only bit of news, Molls.” Lois bit her lower lip before continuing. “Perry gave me a new partner; he works for a D.C. paper … and the F.B.I. His name is … Paul Talmadge.”
There was a shocked silence, then Molly said, very slowly drawing out the word as if she were chipping it into stone with a mallet and chisel. “Why?”
Lois explained everything and then finished by saying with a snicker, “It could be worse. Perry could have locked me up.”
Her friend groaned in commiseration, then said feelingly, “I’m proud of you for being so calm and respectful to Paul. In the old days, you would have wrung that creep out to dry.”
Unspoken between them were the words, “before Clark.”
“Thanks. It wasn’t easy. After our chat in the supply room, it was decided that ‘respectful boundaries’ was the best way to go. He’s changed, Molly. Become quiet and introspective. But he’s still a reporter and a snake. I had to keep him from taking most of the credit for the latest RoxxTen article.”
“Ha! Some things never change! Listen, much as I want to chat further, if I don’t get this latest recipe typed up and emailed over to my editor, he’s going to hunt me down. Hey, are you still coming over for brunch this Sunday?” Molly asked.
“Eleven o’clock?” Lois answered.
“Yes, don’t eat anything beforehand. I’m cooking up a storm!” Molly said.
“Yummy! I’m actually looking forward to testing all those vegetarian dishes. See you then!”
***
The next few days had passed quietly after the story regarding Dr. Siebert’s attack. The undercover cops, Javier and Ryan had not reported anything out of the ordinary with Simcoe’s behavior. Despite his career in Washington and the FBI ‘side job’, Perry wanted to see if Paul Talmadge could hold his own as a reporter. He gave him a series of assignments which, to no one’s real surprise, he managed quite well. Lois did not write any additional stories with him for the rest of the week.
Lois noticed how different his presence in the newsroom was from Clark’s. Whereas her fiancé was quick to smile, and he appreciated a good joke, Talmadge’s personality was calm, almost reserved, yet approachable. Those who knew Clark well were a little standoffish at first. After all, they had seen their colleague kidnapped before their eyes and this new person was taking his desk and working with the man’s partner. Elsie in rewrite, who treated Clark like another grandson, steered clear of him.
Although some new members of the bullpen felt comfortable with him, especially since they did not know Lois’s partner. Many others, such as the cleaning personnel and mailroom staff, treated him as if he were anyone else in the newsroom.
The one person that ran afoul of him was Ralph Lombard. Ralph made the mistake of talking about Stacy in a crude manner to one of the mailroom guys in Talmadge’s presence. At lunchtime, Paul asked him if they could confer over a story he was working on. The two men went into the conference room for a few minutes. When they returned, Ralph’s face was flushed red, and he was holding his wrist as if it had been injured.
From that day on, Ralph never spoke disrespectfully to or about a woman staffer. But he also never went near Talmadge. He was more than cautious around the new reporter; he was scared witless of him.
Something else had happened. He briefly met with Molly Flynn for the first time in years.
She had come up to get Lois and grab lunch. When he saw her at the top of the ramp, he walked up to meet her, and with a bit of nervous trepidation extended his hand.
“It … it is really good to see you again, Molly.”
She blinked and stammered, “Ah …yeah. Lois tells me you are settling into this temporary assignment very well. Does your editor miss seeing your by-line in the Chronicle?”
With a tight nod, he said. “Yes. He would like me to return to D.C. as soon as this case is cracked.”
“Th …that’s good. Um, I see Lois, talk with you later. Excuse me.”
With those hastily spoken words, Molly, with a firm grip on the handrail, walked with uneven steps down the ramp and went straight to Lois’ desk. She hadn’t meant to act like a nervous teenager. But sadly, Linda King and Paul Talmadge had caused a lot of damage to the school’s newspaper and hurt to her friend. It would take a long time before she and Paul Talmadge could be comfortable around each other.
“Hi Lois! Ready to go to lunch? I’m starving!”
“Great, ‘cause I’m ready to go.”
“Ooh, I have news… I’m dating my karate instructor.”
Surprised, Lois said, “What? When did this happen? Wait, when did you take up karate? I thought your doctor wanted you to be careful with that injured foot?”
“We met on the day I broke it. When I went back to start working on my upper body strength he was there and wanted to know how the recovery was going. We started talking, decided to go for a coffee, and the rest is history.”
Lois nodded and said with a chuckle. “Good work. When do I meet this man? What is his name?”
“Greg DeLuca. When he’s not instructing, he works for Quantum Industries as a programmer. He’s got a great sense of humor and a good heart. He’s coming to my next food tasting this Friday.”
Lois remembered that the courier would be landing at Clark’s apartment on the balcony that day. She dared not let the Kryptonian device remain outside. “Oh, not this Friday, Molls. I have that standing appointment to call my future in-laws. But maybe during one of those yummy food tastings.”
Her friend smiled and said, “Count on it! Also, please tell the Kents hello from me!”
Before Lois could answer, Cat’s voice said. “Excuse me Molly, did I hear right? You’re taking up karate?”
“Yes, despite the foot problem. I wanted to stretch myself physically.”
“Stretch? If you ever want to experience a good lengthening of the limbs, what about attending a Pilates class? All the Hollywood stars are doing it. Most of the dancers on Broadway swear by the physical fitness system created by Joseph Pilates.”
Cocking her head to the side as if to listen closer, Molly said, “Interesting. I might take you up on that as soon as my foot finishes healing."
At that moment Diane came over. “Pilates? Oh no, take a kickboxing class!”
“Kickboxing? Are you kidding? With her foot? What happened to Spin class?” Lois asked.
Diane smiled, “I do that, too! Great for the glutes.”
The enthusiastic group of women gathered around her desk continuing to chat about the health benefits of each regimen. The energy and joy they generated made Lois think of her beloved. What Clark had said in his message was right. With loyal friends around, Lois felt certain she could handle just about anything … even though his absence still upset her deeply, they helped ease the ache of that missing piece of her life.
