But all morning Leo didn’t see Floyd be anything but a coal miner like him. That’s what it seemed like working down in the old basement among charred posts, broken panes of glass, two sets of bedsprings, a rusted radiator, weeds, a few empty pots and pans, and mountains of damp ash over more stuff. The hole was deep, but with all that ash to walk over, Leo had to stoop under the sooty boards that ran the width of the foundation. Floor joists, Chick said they were called, and he set up a winch and pulley off one of them, tied a rope to an empty bucket, and lowered it down to Floyd and Leo to fill again and again. They took turns, Leo shoveling ash into the bucket for a few loads and Floyd hoisting it up, then they would switch. Floyd chewed his gum quick and shoveled even quicker. But he was sloppy and spilled some ash around the bucket. When it was full, Leo pulled on the rope and watched their load rise, turning up between the joist boards into the sun. In those rare seconds when it seemed like there was nothing to do, like when Tom was unhooking the ash bucket to dump into the wheelbarrow that he’d later dump out behind the barn, Floyd never stopped moving. If there wasn’t a big enough mound to sink his shovel blade into, he’d make one. It that wasn’t a problem, he’d pick through the debris for solid stuff-a dining chair leg, half a plate, a whole medicine cabinet, a doorknob with a hunk of door still attached to it-and he’d chuck them up between the joists and out of the hole. As soon as Leo lowered the empty bucket down, Floyd would be back shoveling, the rivulets of sweat running down the muscular groove of his spine.

He worked at this pace right up to coffee break-Leo’s job, Chick called down to him, one Leo instantly liked because it meant climbing out of the basement, pulling on his shirt, taking a five from Chick, then driving the flatbed down the river road through the shady cool of the covered bridge up onto Paper Boulevard and into Beatrice’s almost vacant lot. And man, there Allie was, not out back out of sight in the kitchen, but up front, behind the counter in a snug-fitting white diner dress. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail. Around her waist was a black apron with a white flying saucer etched in at the middle.

“Welcome to the UFO Show, will you be dining here or order to go?”

Leo laughed. There wasn’t anyone sitting at the counter and only five or six men were scattered in the booths. They all wore suits and ties like GP’s old man. Sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes, they talked in low earnest voices about money. Leo could see Sidney through the food tray window in the wall scraping the grill with a wire brush. Allie leaned over the counter and kissed Leo on the chin. She jerked back smiling, glanced at the booths, then kissed him on the lips.