"So," Diane repeated.

Zephyr shifted and looked around from where he stood in the foyer (Diane still hadn't quite invited them in). "Shall we get started?"

Diane hesitated. "Ye...eah," she began. "No, wait. I'm not... I'm not ready."

"Okay," Zephyr replied gently.

Diane still made no move to allow them further into the house, and Connor was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. The entranceway wasn't nearly large enough for three people - especially when one was in a wheelchair - and Connor had come very close to whacking Diane in the head with the end of the equipment bag several times. He was looking forward to putting his heavy bags down, but he was afraid to move a muscle in this crowded space. Getting desperate, he finally tried something he hoped wasn't out of line.

"Hey," he suggested, "why don't we take a few moments and relax, and you guys can catch up, or something..."

Zephyr nodded approvingly at him, which he supposed only made sense - Zephyr was the one who had told him that when a client was uncooperative, some coffee and small talk often helped get things going.

Diane seemed to like the idea, too. After a couple of tries, she managed to turn her wheelchair around and led them into the kitchen. The room was sparsely furnished but needed a good scrubbing, and there was only one chair at the cheap aluminum table. Connor resigned himself to standing in the doorway, grateful that he could at least put the bags down.

"I don't have anything to offer you," Diane said apologetically (and a little resentfully). "Oh, there's cookies on the counter there."

Connor, who was only two steps away from the package of pecan shortbread cookies, reached over and grabbed it and put it on the table. He then returned to his spot in the doorway.

Zephyr sat in the solitary chair. Diane positioned herself at the table across from him and looked at Connor. "There's a hassock in the living room," she informed him. "Drag it in here for yourself."

Connor did so, and returned to find Zephyr and Diane pointedly failing to make eye contact with each other. More waiting, he thought to himself as he grabbed a cookie and made himself comfortable against the wall near Zephyr's side of the table. He wondered whether many other engineering fields involved this much waiting. Not that he was dissatisfied; the great thing about this job was that he could learn engineering and human psychology at the same time.

Diane was the first to break the silence. "So what do we have to do?"

"Depends on what you want," Zephyr replied. "We can put in the usual standards, ramps and stairlifts and bars and things, but we specialize in custom accessories. We can personalize everything so that it's best for you. We usually start by assessing your abilities and needs, and then we design everything so that it fulfills your needs by playing to your strengths."

Diane sighed. "This is all so wrong."

"I know," Zephyr said gently, "but it's what we do, so don't worry about what Connor or I think. We came here expecting this. I mean, I wasn't expecting it to be you, but... y'know..."

"You weren't expecting me? I wasn't expecting you ! You, of all people! I thought you were... you were..." She waved her left arm (the only limb she'd shown any ability to use so far) awkardly in frustration.
"Retarded?" Zephyr suggested with a sharp edge of cynicism.

Diane frowned. "Yeah. No offense. But... aren't you?"

Zephyr looked distinctly displeased now, but managed to keep an even tone. "Hell no. I was the smartest kid in that school by far. Okay, with the possible exception of Cathy Foss, but even that was questionable."

"Oh, come on!" Diane countered. "There was obviously something wrong with you! And weren't you in the retard class until, like, high school? Even in high school, I think."

"You want to know what my disability was? My mother was the town drunk! That was enough, and you know it. You and all your friends made sure of that."

"Oh, it's all my fault now! Zephyr, you can't hold me responsible for your miserable childhood! I never did a thing to hurt you. I never touched you. I never even talked to you."

She was visibly upset, and Zephyr responded by keeping his own demeanor measured and calm. "No," he agreed, "You never talked to me. But you certainly talked about me."

"I did? When?"

"Remember that whole incest thing?"

Diane blinked at him. "Oh. Yeah. But that wasn't my fault. Everybody said it was true, and John Falza even said he had proof. Okay, I was stupid to believe it, but I was a kid. We were all kids."

"I was a kid too, remember. You have no idea how much that hurt Portia and me. Nobody should ever have to go through something like that."

"I'm sorry," Diane said quietly, and Connor thought she sounded sincere. "I guess I should have known better, but I never really thought about it. It was just easier not to."

"Yeah, well."

"And, hey, now the tables are turned." She broke into a forced-looking grin. "You look very good, and you're all successful and everything, and I'm the one who's a mess."

Zephyr shook his head. "Don't think of it like that. Shit happens to the best of us. And as for me, well, I worked very hard to accomplish what I did. I had nowhere to go but up, after all." He returned her smile, but if his were forced, Connor thought, he was better at faking it. "If I may ask, what is the nature of your injury?"

Diane gave a quick, sad laugh. "Skiing accident. In Colorado. I was going down the expert slope... I took a jump, landed wrong, and broke my neck."

"Ow," said Zephyr. "I'm sorry."

"I was a great skier," she mused. "I got into it a few years ago, when I met my husband. That was his scene. Jeff was a bigwig in the ski and snowboard equipment industry. All the major retailers and resort owners knew who he was."

"What happened to him?" Zephyr inquired reverently.

"Oh, nothing!" Diane laughed. "He's fine. He left me a month after my accident. He's out there somewhere, living the high life with some other beautiful blonde, I'm sure. Probably younger. He was probably trying to phase me out anyway, and I just provided the perfect excuse."

"I'd say good riddance, but the circumstances sort of prevent that," Zephyr said sympathetically.

"Eh, life goes on," Diane replied. "Sick, twisted motherfucker that it is. You know what I hate the most? I don't care if Jeff is getting some from some other chick. What really drives me up the wall is that I don't have a chance anymore. Nobody cares about a crippled chick. Everyone treats me like some grotesque monster. One minute I had guys lusting after me, and the next I'm untouchable. It's wrong! It's so friggin' unfair! You can't imagine!"

"I think I can," Zephyr told her. "Okay, not the popular part, but the unfair part. I know that extremely well."

"I guess you do. But I'm a little confused about something. Now, don't get me wrong; you look great now. You really do, Zeph. You could stand to do something more flattering with your hair, but you're like a whole different person. But there was something funny, something wrong about you before, and it wasn't just that you were unhappy. Weren't you sick all the time or something?"

Zephyr gave her a thoroughly displeased look, but didn't say anything.

"Oh, come on," Diane insisted, apparently sensing she was right. "I have to tell you in excruciating detail what's wrong with me! You think it's easy, talking about being a cripple? It's the hardest thing I've ever tried to do in my life! The least you could do is be honest with me. If you don't, all I have to go on is old rumors."

Connor thought that was a low blow, and he guessed Zephyr would be inclined to agree. But he maintained a level of professionalism that astonished Connor.

"Okay, if it'll help you feel more comfortable working with me," he said. "You know, if people would stop and think about it rationally, they'd probably figure it out. Portia and I were both born with fetal alcohol syndrome. That's what happens when you drink and shoot up while you're pregnant... your kids come out funny. Portia's symptoms are mostly emotional and psychological. That's why she always seemed like she had a screw loose. She has a terrible memory, and she has a hard time comprehending things like blame or consequences. She's cheerful all the time because she doesn't understand all the things she should be sad or angry about. She can also come off as really insensitive for the same reasons.

"I'm just the opposite. I don't have learning disabilities or emotional disorders or ADHD or anything. I'm not being the least bit immodest when I say that I'm brilliant. I have a congenital heart defect - nothing life-threatening, but it does prevent me from running in marathons or whatever. I also have a neural disorder. You can see it best in my hands. Look."

Zephyr held his right hand out to Diane to demonstrate. Connor leaned forward ever so slightly so he could watch without appearing too interested. He already had developed a basic idea of Zephyr's problem, simply by being quietly observant; but this was the first time he'd ever gotten an explanation.

"I can move my thumb in toward my palm, but I can't move it out or around, and it doesn't bend very easily. I also can't move these three fingers unless I move my index finger first, see, like that."

"Oh," Diane said. "Hey, your fingers are really short. Is that part of it?"

Zephyr shrugged. "I don't think so. I think I just have short fingers. Okay, so I just gave you a demonstration of what Connor and I need you to do for us. You don't have to do it all right now, but we have to know exactly what you can and can't do with every part of your body. We brought some weights and devices to measure your strength and flexibility and there are a number of exercises we're going to ask you to do. If you have to stop for whatever reason, just say so and we'll make another appointment to cover what we don't get done today. And we also need to look at the house and discuss what you need us to alter or build for you. That can be done over time, too, but I'd at least like to get a good start today. Ready?"

"I guess so," Diane said. "I'm warning you, though. I can't do much."

"It's okay. Like I said before, it's all part of the job for us."

Connor reached for the equipment bag and got ready for Zephyr to tell him what to grab first.