Zephyr took a long, slow sip of his coffee and then rummaged around in the large drawer on the right side of his desk until he found his deely-boppers. One of the springs was warped slightly, but no matter. He slid it onto his head, poking the ends under the hair around his ears so it would stay in place. Then he put his glasses on over them

"What're those for?" Connor asked from the doorway.

Zephyr motioned for the intern to enter. As Connor approached the desk, Zephyr tapped a slim folder lying open on the desktop. "New client. Melody Brandes, ten years old, extremely shy. She'll be here in ten minutes. I want you to sit right here at my desk and take notes. Don't say anything, don't get in the way, don't even remind the Brandeses you're here. You can say hi if I introduce you. Other than that, take notes. Understand?"

Connor nodded, although he still looked like he wanted to say something. Zephyr waited, and finally the kid spat it out. "Sorry, I'm still kind of confused about the deely-boppers. What—"

The phone interrupted him with a double beep. That was Mariluz paging him to the lobby. "They're early," Zephyr observed. "Ready? Paper, pen? Mouth closed? Here goes."

He didn't stick around to get a vocal confirmation or to see whether Connor had his note-taking necessities. His heart pounded painfully and his gut bunched up inside him and he knew he needed to dive right in if he wanted to keep his nerve. This is what I'm good at, he reminded himself as he shuffled up the side corridor and turned into the main corridor toward the lobby. Deely-boppers straight, ponytail… eh, passable, posture straight…ish… okay. Ready.

Zephyr stepped out into the lobby, willing himself an air of quiet self-assurance. Mariluz gawked at him as he passed the reception desk; he allowed her a quick half-smile before forcing his focus forward. The Brandes family was there in the waiting area chairs – the swarthy, slim husband in a beige suit that had seen better days; the petite, auburn-haired wife in a green windbreaker and wool pants; and the little girl, Melody, mostly hidden under a granny-square afghan tucked into her wheelchair. What Zephyr could see of Melody consisted primarily of an impressive cloud of dark blonde hair and, when she turned her gaze up at him, two of the biggest, bluest eyes he'd ever seen. They were like sky breaking through rainclouds, which Zephyr suspected was a silly pseudo-poetic thought to have, but they were. There was wheelchair, hair, and then right in the middle those two enormous bright blue eyes.

Melody's parents stood up. Zephyr offered his hand and an introduction: "Hi, Zephyr Decastle. Glad you could come in."

"Joey Brandes," the father replied, shaking Zephyr's hand firmly. Zephyr hoped he wasn't one of those men who judged people by their grip, because Zephyr didn't have a grip, per se. A grip would require fingers curling, and his fingers didn't tend to like to do that, especially if there was a solid object in the way like, for instance, someone's hand. But it was stupid to worry about stupid things like that now, because he was the professional and he was the one who could help these people and besides, he was wearing deely-boppers and what were they going to do, take their business elsewhere? Well, that was a possibility; there was still Eureka Custom, but MARZ was Eureka Custom, essentially; at least, the best parts of it.

"I'm Anna," the mother offered with a nod. She'd positioned herself behind the wheelchair, which made shaking hands awkward, so Zephyr let it go gratefully.

"Come in," Zephyr said. "My office is this way." He flashed a calm, self-assured smile all around and slowly turned and led them down the corridor and around the corner, painfully aware of his pounding heart and his posture and his balance and the three sets of eyes upon him as he walked. Connor was in place in Zephyr's swivel chair, his massive body crammed as well as might be expected against the wall to the left. Zephyr veered right and indicated the sofa as the Brandeses entered behind him. Anna parked Melody in the space between the sofa and the door and rested one hand on the little girl's lap as she sat next to her. When the family was settled in, Zephyr took the big blue chair facing the sofa and leaned forward slightly. He'd been noticing how they all kept letting their eyes wander up, up over his head before jerking them down again. That was good.

"So," he said, "you're Melody. Hi, Melody. I'm Zephyr. This is my office, and that's Connor, my assistant. He's quite nice, really, but he's not very interesting. He just sits there and writes things and doesn't do much else."

"Hi," said Connor softly before scrambling to look busy with the pen and notebook. There wasn't anything to write yet, so Zephyr suspected he was doodling. Good kid.

"So tell me what you need," Zephyr instructed the Brandeses, leaving it open for any one of them to answer.

Mr. Brandes spoke first. "Melly's doctor believes she is strong enough to walk with braces and crutches, but of course the usual designs won't work for her. So he recommended that we get some custom-made especially for her."

"Well, great," Zephyr said with a smile. "I'm sure we can do that. Now, what we'll need to do first is give her a few tests; range of motion, specific strength measurements… basically we find out what she can do, make a list of what she wants to do, and use what she can do to give her the abil—"

"What're those for?" Melody asked suddenly. The direction of her gaze made it quite plain what she meant.

Zephyr allowed himself to be interrupted, although the little girl's voice was certainly tiny enough to talk over. "They're my antennas," he told her sincerely, reaching up almost involuntarily to touch one of the springs.

"Why do you have them?" Melody inquired.

"I… uh…" Zephyr bit his lip and blushed, which wasn't entirely an act. He did feel ridiculous wearing these things. But that was the point! "I sorta need them. They help me pick up vibrations, and important things like that."

Connor snorted. Zephyr shot the kid a glare as he raised his notebook as if to hide behind it. "I'm sorry. I've always thought they were really cool, myself. But that's just me." Connor averted his eyes downward and instantly became riveted in whatever the notebook contained.

Zephyr turned back to Melody. "Connor likes them," he informed her.

Melody blinked those enormous blue eyes at him and said, "I like them too."

Zephyr sat back with a satisfied smile. "Good. See, there's nothing weird about having antennas. Antennas are cool."

"Are you a bug?" Melody asked.

"No. I'm a regular person." Zephyr studied Melody appraisingly. "What about you?"

Melody giggled. "I'm not a bug either! I'm a regular person too."

"How about you?" Zephyr asked Joey.

Joey smirked and tapped his fingers on his knees. "I am something creepy-crawly, like a lizard. So these tests and measurements," he added. "Do you need to do them right now, today? Is there anything Anna and me should do to help?"

Zephyr shrugged to show there was no hurry. "It's the day before the holiday; we won't get much done until next week anyway. I figure we can just talk about what to expect and what these crutches and braces will be like when they're done. I can show you some of the measuring devices ahead of time; there are some pretty fun ones. We'll take it at whatever speed Melody's comfortable with. When she's had enough, that's fine; we'll just pick it up again when she's ready."

Joey and Anna nodded their understanding, and Anna remarked, "This is good. We'll have the long weekend to think about it."

"Exactly," Zephyr agreed. "And that's important because I need some input from you. I need to know everything you want to be able to do better, Melody. While you're at home, doing all the usual things, try to notice which tasks you wish you could do better, all right? And tasks you want to do but can't. All three of you, and then make a list of everything you think of. A written list – that's important! And you can give it to me next time we see each other. We probably won't be able to cover everything on the list – we're only making a couple of crutches and a couple of braces, so if Melody wants to make a banana milkshake, she's going to have to use the blender just like everyone else." That got a giggle. "If she wants to go skydiving, well, I guess we could tuck a parachute into the right-leg compartment, but it'll cost you extra." More giggles. Zephyr grinned and continued. "But adding a couple of small extra features is no problem, if we know which ones you'd find useful."

Joey leaned in close to Anna and muttered something in Spanish. Anna nodded and glanced at Melody, who stared back with those huge blue eyes.

When they were quiet again, Zephyr asked Melody, "Do you want a sneak preview of some of the gizmos and gadgets you'll get to try out?"

Melody nodded. "Do I do them now?" she asked.

"Do you want to?" Zephyr looked around for the black duffel bag he'd just had that morning… and put… oh, right. Behind the chair he was sitting in. He caught the strap and dragged it around the chair and closer to Melody's wheelchair.

Melody paused thoughtfully and then nodded. "One or two, I guess."

"Sounds good to me!" Zephyr exclaimed as he fished a device out of the bag. "Okay, here's a good one. Oh, but before we start that, I'm going to ask you one little question. Can you stand up by yourself without any braces on?"

"Yes, she can," Anna said. "But she can't move around at all."

"That's all right," Zephyr assured them. "Can you show me?"

Melody looked at her mother and then nodded her assent. Anna reached over and removed the afghan from Melody's lap and passed it over to Joey. She unzipped Melody's jacket, slipped it off her, and passed that on as well. Then she stood up, grabbed Melody under the arms, and pulled her to a standing position.

The little girl's light blue sweatsuit was too baggy to get a good sense of her contours, but Zephyr immediately identified two problems that required the custom-design process. Her arms and legs were far too thin; they appeared to taper starting at the knees and elbows, especially her arms. And her hands were long and narrow and shaped altogether wrong. Zephyr couldn't even be sure she had thumbs.

He knelt in front of her and presented for her viewing pleasure the device, which resembled a small, black pillow. "You're doing good so far," he told her. "Ready for the fun part? This here is a pressure pillow. Actually it's not; I just made that up. But it sounds so much cooler than its regular name. Now, what you do with the pressure pillow is you press it. You don't shove it or ram into it; nice and slow until you're pushing as hard as you can. You can lean on my shoulders if you want. Sorry, did I just bop you with my antennas? Okay, sorry about that. I'm going to hold it against my leg, and you take your shin and you press it. Press it! Yeah. And then I shout out a number to Connor; that's your score. Try to get high scores. High scores are good."

She pressed, and he let her do it two more times, and they all cheered each time she beat her own score. He had her use her right leg from several different points and angles, then switched to the left leg, then let her sit down again and got a few more readings. Her parents and Connor all helped cheer her on with each effort, and cheered and praised her when she made the numbers increase. Zephyr, meanwhile, took the opportunity to get a better look at her hands. They were stiff and the fingers curled downward as a unit. At first he thought her fingers were fused together, but when she braced against the armrests for leverage and several fingers separated, he noted that this was not the case. They did, however, appear to be immobile. She did have thumbs after all, he noted; they were tiny and pressed uselessly against her long, cupped palms. When he finally dared to take her hands into his own, he discovered that some of her wrist bones were fused. Melody stopped giggling and watched him somberly as he explored her hands, giving him the impression she was familiar with this sort of examination. He determined what he could in a few brief seconds and let go of her as soon as he had the general idea. This would indeed be a problem. Crutches with no hand grips?

"I thought of one thing I wanna do that's extra," Melody said quietly as he started to stand up. "Hold a pencil."

"I know the feeling," Zephyr mumbled back before he really thought about what he was saying. Well, it was true in a way. He did remember having to teach himself how to hold a writing utensil because none of the grown-ups would help him. They didn't believe he could do it. He proved them wrong, eventually.

Once standing, he looked over at Melody's parents and… hmm. How could he explain to them what a challenge this would be? Possibly an expensive challenge, too, as Reg ate through supplies trying to develop a design that worked. MARZ wasn't ready to absorb that kind of cost. If Connor took good notes, that would help; and a great deal of pre-design planning might head off some obvious errors. The big problem here was that Reg would be working off measurements and written information without any sort of concrete model of the client's unique shape. They could make casts and molds of her limbs, sure. If they could convince her to cooperate. God, it would be so much easier if Reg could just see her for himself!

Well…

Zephyr looked at the Brandeses again. They expected him to say something; he had to make a decision now . Could they handle it? Would the sight of Reg freak them out? Asking permission wasn't the issue; he was sure they'd give it. But if they got downstairs and Reg was in one of his wonky moods, or having trouble speaking, or if he did something unpredictable in Melody's general direction…

Zephyr knew with absolute certainty that Reg wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't prove it to strangers, but he knew. And it might help him understand Melody's needs… it might… although Zephyr didn't have much evidence to back that possibility up. Reg never met clients. Never.

If he screwed this up, Marsh would never forgive him. He'd probably ask him to resign. But… what the hell.

"I have an idea. Our team engineer is right downstairs and I'd like your permission to introduce him to Melody. He doesn't usually meet clients; that's what I'm for. He handles design and construction. But I think if we made an exception here, it would save him some work. What do you think?"

"Sure," Joey agreed. "Whatever you think will help." Anna nodded and murmured an agreement, too.

"Okay. Right this way. The elevator's in the front, near the lobby. Now, I have to warn you, Reg is one of those really smart guys who cares more about the brilliant ideas in his head than what anyone thinks of him. He's a little strange, but he's an incredible engineer."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Anna said as she followed Joey and the wheelchair down the hall.

"It will," Zephyr promised. "He's a nice guy; it's just, people aren't his thing." He clammed up before he found himself saying something regrettable.

Connor fell in behind him and whispered over his shoulder, "Are… are you sure?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Zephyr snapped. The deely-boppers were beginning to irk him. He pulled them off and handed them to Connor and then quickened his pace to catch up with the Brandeses, who were already in front of the elevator.

Zephyr smiled at them all the way down, doing his determined best to look calm and self-assured. This was going to work – of course it was – so if his gut would only stop churning and his vision would quit swimming, he could do his job properly.

Reg was at the table saw, poring intently over a blueprint laid out on a table to his left as the machine severed a two-by-four in half. Zephyr motioned for everyone else to stand back and approached Reg alone.

"Zephyr," Reg said without taking his eyes from the blueprint.

"Hi, Reg." Zephyr rested one hand on Reg's arm and leaned in to speak to him above the noise. "I have a task for you to do. Interrupt this task and do the new task and then you can complete this task."

Reg reached around Zephyr and punched the off button; the saw came to a rattling halt and was silent.

Zephyr nudged Reg to turn around and face Connor and the Brandeses. Once he was sure Reg saw them, he said, "I want you to meet a client, Melody Brandes. She has a new account with us. I'll give you the notes at 5:00 this afternoon, but right now I want you to meet Melody. Come on. Let's go over there."

He guided Reg forward with a hand on his back, trying to look casual about it. Joey and Anna stood to each side of and slightly behind Melody's wheelchair and they watched Reg approach in staid silence. When Reg stopped two feet away from her, Melody reached her arms upward and demanded, "Help me up." Her parents did so, and for a long, tense moment they stood there – slim, lanky, beautiful Reginald towering over tiny, twiglike, beautiful Melody.

"Hi," Melody squeaked upward.

Reg dropped into a sudden, graceful crouch that brought him only a few inches above eye level with her. Zephyr watched helplessly, paralyzed by his uncertainty. He wasn't the only one, it seemed. Both of Melody's parents chewed their lips nervously and squeezed each other's hands. Connor looked absolutely welded to the floor, the silver deely-bopper balls waggling happily from out of his white-knuckled fist.

Then Reg stood, spun around, and strode back to the table saw and it was over. The roar of machinery again filled the workshop. Zephyr grinned at his clients and said lamely, "Well, we're done, I guess. Shall we go upstairs and make another appointment for sometime after Thanksgiving?"

As they headed back toward the elevator, Connor shot Zephyr a pink-faced smile. He was a good kid, Zephyr thought. He had a good sense of when and how to stay out of the way – even if he did take up twice as much space as just about every other human being.

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