And he’s hardly that attractive anyway, objectively speaking.” Mom says, glancing at you during the last part, oddly enough. Vanessa shrugs.“Sur...ly if I can get him, then he’s not good for Brooke, right? I’m being helpful!” Vanessa insists, and Mom considers this.“Knock yourself out.” Mom relents. Vanessa fist pumps.At dinner, at a pizza joint, you, Mom, and Vanessa walk in to see Brooke and Gemma at a table, no Mark in sight.“Where’s Mark?” Vanessa asks instantly, as you slide across the booth. I knew of Wood's exploits here in the territories against some of the worst of the Indian tribes and he was ultimately successful. Wood certainly had the knowledge, and I suspected Roosevelt had all of the bravery that was needed to get the job done.I realized that this was going to be played out and my second thoughts on the war were going to mean diddley squat. I did have confidence in my son and his capabilities. Roosevelt must have had them as well or he wouldn't have made the effort to. ”“No need to thank me. That bar over there tells the story.”After Roy was gone I wandered over to my weight set. What story did it tell, I wondered? Then I saw what Roy was talking about. The weight bar that Becky Finklestein used to effortlessly curl three hundred pounds sat gleaming in the light, and pressed into the steel as if by a die were the impressions of eight tiny fingers and two tiny thumbs. I felt light-headed. How strong was she actually? What was her limit? Did she have a limit?. I'm Mike. Michael Franklin Hampton." Well, Michael Franklin Hampton." She shook the offered hand then let her own fingers trace her jawline. "I s'pect ah'll have to teach you just about everything?" God I hope so."Mike shook his head at the memory. He continued to stare across the pond as he spoke. "I was thinking about when we first met, the bar-b-q... what you said... about teaching me everything. I guess you had to learn it from..." That's not what ah remember about that day. Ah remember.