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chattering away, she walked around the house. John looked out the window across the valley to the mountains beyond. It was a beautiful, pristine spring day. And his mood began to lighten. Several of Jennifer’s friends would be over soon for a small party. He’d cook up some burgers on the grill out on the side deck; the kids would then retreat to Jennifer’s room. He had just opened the pool in the backyard over the weekend, and though the water was a chilly sixty-eight, a couple of the kids might jump in.
    He’d flush them out around dark, go to his Roundtable meeting, and maybe later this evening he’d dig back into that article he was committed to for the
Civil War Journal
about Lee versus Grant as a strategic commander . . . a no-brainer but still an extra five hundred bucks when done and another vita builder for tenure review next year. He could stay up late; his first lecture wasn’t until eleven in the morning tomorrow.
    â€œDad, Uncle Bob wants you!”
    Jennifer came out of her bedroom, holding up the phone. John took it, gave her a quick peck on the top of her head and a playful swat as she ran back off. Seconds later the damn stereo in her room doubled in sound.
    â€œYeah, Bob?”
    â€œJohn, I gotta run.”
    He could sense some tension in Bob’s voice. He could hear some voices in the background . . . shouting. It was hard to tell, though; Jennifer’s stereo was blaring.
    â€œSure, Bob. Will you be down next month?”
    â€œLook, John, something’s up. Got a problem here. I gotta—”
    The phone went dead.
    At that same instant, the ceiling fan began to slowly wind down, the stereo in Jennifer’s room shut down, and looking over to his side alcove office he saw the computer screen saver disappear, the green light of the on button on the nineteen-inch monitor disappearing. There was a chirping beep, the signal that the home security and fire alarm system was off-line; then that went silent as well.
    â€œBob?”
    Silence on the other end. John snapped the phone shut.
    Damn, power failure.
    â€œDad?”
    It was Jennifer.
    â€œMy CD player died.”
    â€œYeah, honey.” Thank God, he thought silently. “Power failure.”
    She looked at him, a bit crestfallen, as if he were somehow responsible or could snap his finger to make the CD player come back on. Actually, if he could permanently arrange for that damn player to die, he would be tempted to do it.
    â€œWhat about my party? Pat just gave me a CD and I wanted to play it.”
    â€œNo worry, sweetie. Let me call the power company. Most likely a blown transformer.”
    He picked up the landline phone . . . silence, no dial tone.
    Last time that happened some drunk had rammed into a telephone pole down at the bottom of the hill and wiped everything out. The drunk of course had walked away from it.
    Cell phone. John opened it back up, started to punch numbers . . . nothing.
    Damn.
    Cell phone was dead. He put it down on the kitchen table.
    Puzzling. The battery in his phone must have gone out just as Bob clicked off. Hell, without electricity John couldn’t charge it back up to call the power company.
    He looked over at Jennifer, who stared at him expectantly, as if he would now resolve things.
    â€œNo problem at all, kid. They’ll be on it, and besides, it’s a beautiful day; you don’t need to be listening to that garbage anyhow. Why can’t you like Mozart or Debussy the way Pat here does?”
    Pat looked at him uncomfortably and he realized he had committed one of the mortal sins of parenting; never compare your daughter to one of her buddies.
    â€œGo on outside; give the dogs a run. They’ll have the power back by dinnertime.”

 
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CHAPTER TWO
    DAY 1, 6:00 P.M.
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    Flipping the four burgers on the grill, two for himself, one each for Jennifer and Pat, he looked over his shoulder