A Bolt from the Blue. Maggie Wells

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      Logically, Mick knew at the half-century mark that he wasn’t anywhere near being old, but the mailings from retirement associations were hard to ignore. There was nothing like the news of a classmate’s a heart attack to bring a guy’s mortality into sharp focus. He might not be old, but he sure as shit wasn’t young. And dating and all the B.S. surrounding it—those were games best left to those with fewer clicks on the meter. His daughter might like to play with fire, but he’d spent his life trying to contain the sparks he generated.

      Paperwork proved to be the ticket. Updating accounting software and gathering receipts proved to be mind-numbing enough to make the morning fly by. Hiring Stevie and Pete had been Kelly’s idea, and he had to admit, the move had been a good one. Until they came on, he hadn’t realized how far in over his head he was on the business end. Though technically his second cousins, or something, the boys had called him Uncle Mick their whole lives. Stevie was a year older than Kelly and Pete a year younger, but both boys had been drifting along in dead-end jobs before his daughter stepped in and set the three of them on course.

      Getting the Tweedle Brothers, as he liked to call them, through apprenticeship had been fairly arduous. In truth, the process consumed what patience parenthood hadn’t claimed, but they were certified now and gaining confidence all the time. As a matter of fact, the boys got through the morning appointments with only four phone calls between them. This was progress. At this rate, he might be able to take a full week of vacation in a year or five. And who knows, maybe in another decade or three, he’d actually think of retiring. The sky was the limit.