"Hello? Hey, Virg! How's it going?" Scott Tracy broke into a smile. He was always ready for a break from his studies when one of his brothers called from home, especially Virgil, his closest brother in age and in friendship.

"Scott… I need your help… I don't know… I've got…"

"Whoa. Slow down! What's wrong?"

On his computer screen, he could see that his brother was upset, and it caused his stomach to tighten. If it had been one of his youngest brothers, he would have known that whatever the problem, it couldn't be all that bad. A fight at school, an injured knee, any number of things could cause a tearful call requiring a virtual kiss on the boo-boo, but Virgil was made of sterner stuff. For him to be upset, it had to be serious.

"I got a letter from Kansas State today. They want me to come play football for them. They want to give me a full ride."

Scott's eyebrows climbed. "And this is bad news, how?"

The seventeen-year-old looked stricken as his brother's question. "Grandma saw the envelope. She'll tell Dad."

"Yeah, so?"

Virgil froze, staring at his brother with unbelieving eyes. Scott waited, wishing the psychic connection his grandmother swore he shared with Virgil was real. "Scott, I don't want to go to Kansas State."

"I know that, Virg. So does Dad. Hell, so does half of Kalvesta. What, you think Dad will take one look at that letter and make you go there? Give the man some credit."

Virgil's eyes slid away. "Are you sure? Are you sure he won't think it'll make a man out of me?"

Scott sighed, shaking his head. Years before, after their mother had died, their father had seriously gone off the rails for a couple of months. Things were said to Scott, Virgil and John that Jeff had regretted ever since. On one dark day, Virgil had been crying for his mother, and Jeff had lost his fragile temper and carried on about not raising a mama's boy. It had made a deep impression on young Virgil's psyche that was still proving indelible.

"Virg, what can I say? I know for a fact Dad will not 'make' you do anything you don't want to do. And I think you know it, too. So, why don't you start again, and tell me what the real problem is?"

As soon as he said it, he saw a flicker in his brother's eyes, and Scott suddenly knew what was going on. He waited to see if Virgil would say anything, but the teen was floundering, apparently afraid to put his fear into words.

"Have you heard from M.I.T. yet?"

Virgil hung his head. "No. Not from M.I.T., not from D.I.A.T., not even from Cal Tech."

Scott sighed. "Yeah, I know how that feels. It's hell waiting. But Virg, you can't possibly think you won't get in. You're the perfect student. They're going to beat down the doors to get a crack at you."

Virgil shook his head. "I should have run for class president. If I'd run for class president they'd want me."

Scott rolled his eyes. "That only works if you actually win. I told you, it's a gamble to run for office. I mean, I'm sure the girls would all vote for you… except maybe all of your ex-girlfriends… but a lot of guys would only see you as competition. No, you're better off not running than running and losing."

"You didn't lose."

"True, but I have a different career track than you. I had to show more leadership ability than you have to show. Schools like M.I.T. want academics, which you have up the yazoo."

"You don't think I have leadership ability?"

"Did I say that?" Scott challenged. "Look, if you weren't a leader, you wouldn't be football team captain as a junior. That's better than I did. Why do you think Kansas State wants you?"

Virgil threw his head back. "But I don't want to go to Kansas State!"

"Okay, Virg, think back for a minute. Remember when I was waiting for my college acceptance letters? It was the same thing. It took forever to get the ones I wanted. Remember the first one I got? Wyoming State? I mean, seriously, Wyoming State? I thought I was going to be stuck as a cowboy for the rest of my life."

Instead of laughing at Scott's little joke, Virgil shook his head. "All I remember is you never got the one you wanted. The Air Force Academy never responded."

Scott felt his jaw tighten. "You know why that happened, Virgil," he said coldly.

Virgil's cheeks turned pink. "I'm sorry, Scott. I don't know what made me say that. I didn't mean anything by it."

With an effort, Scott tamped down on his flaring temper. His failure to receive the appointment to the Air Force Academy was still a sore point even three years later. It had been his very bad luck to be of age in a year when politics were particularly uncivil. NASA had been one of the scapegoats of the ultra liberals in power, and being the son of even a hero astronaut had been a disability. All of his father's influence had worked against him, and Scott had found the one door he wanted shut.

Yale had been a poor second, but Yale is where he had landed up. At the time, Scott had felt like a total failure. But his father had encouraged him to go to the expensive private school. It had seemed an unlikely choice for a guy with his heart set on a career in the Air Force. But in fact, after a 'technical renaissance' a few years earlier, Yale's reputation for turning out top aeronautical engineering prospects was rapidly growing, and the Air Force was eager for any that would consider a commission upon graduation.

Scott took a breath, and shook his head. "Okay, here's the thing. It's true I wanted to go to the Academy, but I think it all turned out for the best. Half the guys caught up in that scandal last spring probably had nothing to do with the cheating, but that entire class has been tainted, and will be tainted for the rest of their careers. I escaped that." Scott shrugged. "And who knew Yakimura would decide to leave Japan and teach here? Between him and McQuarry, Becker, and Singh, I have the best aeronautics teachers on the planet."

"I know Scott, I know. You really lucked out. But I've never been that lucky. If I don't get into M.I.T., I'll… I'll…"

"You'll what? Turn into a fabulously wealthy football star?"

Virgil stopped, and rolled his own eyes. "I'm not big enough for pro ball. I'd probably land up a phys ed teacher in some backwater Kansas town."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "You dissing Coach Daugherty, there, Virg?"

Virgil started, then smiled, shaking his head. "No, never. I'd love to be Coach Daugherty. I was thinking more along the lines of Coach Miller from Jetmore."

Scott laughed. All the Tracys from Jeff on down idolized Kalvesta High's venerable Coach Daugherty. Coach Miller, on the other hand, got no respect. Despite being the head coach at Jetmore High for as long as Coach Daugherty had been at Kalvesta, his team had yet to beat the Kalvesta High Panthers at any sport.

"Well, that's not going to happen. Worse comes to worst, you can come up here to New Haven and study aeronautics with me."

"Yale? No offense, man, but it would kill me to be that close to M.I.T. and not go there."

Scott crossed his arms. "Actually, I do take offense. You think M.I.T. is better than Yale?"

"You're kidding, right?"

Scott just raised an eyebrow, a wintry little smile on his face.

"Scott, seriously, man, there's like, no comparison! M.I.T. is the top engineering school in the country. In the world. You can't compare a has-been Ivy League school to M.I.T."

Scott put his little finger in his ear, and made a show of cleaning out the wax. "Has-been? Did I hear you correctly? You said has-been?"

Virgil smiled condescendingly. "Scott, come on! You have to know that Yakamura and those others only went to teach at Yale because they weren't good enough for M.I.T."

"You do realize that winter break begins in ten days, right? That I'll be home in eleven, right? That you'll be toast in twelve, right?"

"You'll make me toast when you get home? Aw, that's nice. You haven't made me toast since I was a little kid. Maybe you could make me tea, too. I hear that's all Yale men are good for, after all. Tea and toast."

Scott laughed. "Okay, you'll get yours. Listen, I have a class in a few minutes. Try not to worry, okay? That Kansas State letter is just the first of many, I promise you."

The teasing smile on Virgil's face faded to something more wistful. "Okay, Scott. I'll try. Can't wait for you to get home."

"Yeah, I can't wait, either. Say hi to the kids and Grandma for me."

"I will. Bye.

"Bye."

Scott stood wearily by as the baggage carousel turned, bringing his duffle bag around. Heaving a sigh, he reached for it, only to find a gloved hand there before him. He looked up to see his father smiling at him. "You walked right by me, boy."

"Dad! What are you doing here?"

Cocking an eyebrow, the elder Tracy said, "Well, it's certainly not for you. I came to get your dirty clothes."

Scott barked a laugh and reached to gather the older man into a hug. "It's good to see you, too."

Jeff returned his son's hug, then hefted the bag onto his shoulder. "You look tired."

As they headed through the airport concourse, Scott sighed. "I am tired. I'll tell you what, O'Hare is the worst place in the world to miss a connection. It was, like, nothing I could do would let me make the second connection to Dodge City."

What had seemed a straightforward trip from New Haven to Chicago to Kansas City to Dodge City had turned into a nightmare due to an ice storm that had grounded airlines all up and down the eastern seaboard. It was only after he'd missed the first connection that Scott had discovered the remaining connections fell apart, and what would have been a tiring seven-hour flight was going to take a grueling 30 hours.

He'd expected to spend the night in the hard plastic chairs of Kansas City International Airport, and catch the connector to Dodge in the late afternoon of the next day. Having his father meet him in Kansas City was a huge relief.

"That'll teach you. You should have waited for the direct flight, like I told you to."

"Yeah, I've been kicking myself all day. I could have driven it faster."

By this time, father and son were out of the airport building, and Jeff flagged down a cab. "Well, it's a lesson learned. Let's just get home. Your grandma was wringing her hands at the thought of you sitting in an airport terminal all night."

"How is she? How was her vacation?" For as long as Scott could remember, his grandmother had taken vacations in December.

"I'll let her tell you all about it. Suffice it to say, it was an adventure. When she got home, she was practically kissing the ground she was so happy to be there."

"Yeah, I kinda know the feeling. I love New Haven and all, but the last couple of weeks all I wanted was to be in my own bed, looking out at slush and mud and dead leaves."

Jeff chuckled. "God help us, we all get that way. I remember my Dad telling me about when he came home from Viet Nam. He was full of stories of the jungle, but then he'd look out over the fields and he'd just smile and say he could only breathe in Kansas. He was a Jayhawk through and through."

Scott smiled at the mention of his long dead grandfather. His dad rarely mentioned him, but when he did, it was always with affection. Curious, Scott cocked his head to one side. "And what about you, Dad? You ever feel that way?"

"Absolutely. Every time I come home from a trip, I feel like this is where I belong. Did I ever tell you that when I was in orbit, the one thing I could always recognize was Kansas? Even from outer space, the fields have a certain color that you just don't find anywhere else."

Scott noticed the cabby suddenly stiffen and look with wide eyes into his rearview mirror. The man had just realized who it was that sitting in his backseat. Scott couldn't help but smile. He loved the fact that the entire world realized what he had known since he was a kid. His father was a hero.

Still, he couldn't help but josh his dad. "Yeah, kind of a sickly dead brown."

Jeff laughed, "Yes, but it's OUR sickly dead brown."

As they pulled up at the small terminal of the private airfield where Tracy Enterprises kept a hangar, Jeff said, "So, I suppose you're too tired to take first seat?"

Scott's heart leapt at the opportunity to fly his father's jet, but he knew the remark was likely a test of his judgement. "I wish I could say I wasn't, Dad, but I probably should just fly co-pilot tonight."

Scott could tell he'd given the right answer by the look in his father's eye. "Well, grab your gear and let's get going."

Scott went to the rear of the cab to get his duffle from the trunk, as his father attempted to pay the cabby. The man refused the money, asking instead for his father's autograph, which Jeff supplied with a smile. As the two Tracys made their way to the hangar, Scott teased Jeff. "I guess if nothing else, a flight to the moon is good for free cab rides."

Jeff shook his head. "Only in Kansas, and not even then anymore. I'm yesterday's news."

Scott schooled his face to match his father's melancholy look. "Yeah, it's sad, really."

"Tragic."

"Ah well. I'll be famous soon enough, and I'll let you ride my coattails."

"You?" Jeff snorted. "I'm thinking it will be John's coattails I'll be hanging on to. Have you heard he's decided to write a book?"

"A book? What kind of book?"

"He's decided he is the only person in the world capable of explaining quasars to the general public."

Scott chuckled. His middle brother saw things in black and white, and it would be just like him to think he would be the next great astronomer. "I suppose that's better than a book about laser death rays."

Jeff nodded. "As long as it isn't porn, I'll be happy."

As they entered the hangar, Scott's eyes widened. Instead of the staid business jet he'd expected to see, there was a little red sport jet sitting there, gleaming in the overhead lights. "Wow! Where did this come from?"

"Like it? It's the newest prototype out of Tuscaloosa. I just got it a few days ago."

Scott moved toward the plane, lust in his heart. "She's a beauty, Dad."

"She's a honey to fly, too. I'll tell you what, son. I'll fly her home tonight, and once you've gotten some sleep, we'll take her up together, get you checked out on her."

Scott turned a dazzling smile on his father. "Excellent!"

"That little hatch there is for cargo. Go ahead and put your gear there."

Jeff stood back with a proprietary smile as Scott inspected the indicated hatch. Scott raised an eyebrow when he realized the hatch featured a handprint scanner. With a grin, he put his hand on the scanner. Nothing happened for a moment, then the hatch slid aside. "Whoa! Cool! I never saw or felt a thing! How does it work?"

"I have the specs at home. Now that you can understand them, we can go over them together, and you can tell me what you think. For now, let's just enjoy the features."

Scott hefted his duffle through the hatch, then looked around for a way to close it. After a moment, he put his hand back on the scanner, and the hatch obediently slid closed. He turned to his father, feeling like the smile would never leave his face. "I think I'm in love."

Jeff grinned, waggling his eyebrows, "You ain't seen nuthin' yet, kid."

Forty minutes later, the little red jet touched down in Kalvesta on the Tracy's private airstrip at the farm. Neither Scott nor his father had stopped smiling the entire trip as they had discussed the features of the newest jet in the Tracy Enterprises lineup.

"Okay, so tomorrow you'll let me take her up?" Scott asked, beaming.

"Well, actually it's today. It's almost one a.m. And no, not today. Today we have to decorate the house."

Scott sighed. "You know, Dad, this waiting until I get home to decorate the house thing is just not reasonable. You should have had it done by now."

"Nice try, son. I'm going to need all the help I can get. Or did you forget that your brother turned twelve this year?"

Scott rolled his eyes. Family tradition said that when a Tracy son turned twelve, he could help decorate the roof of the old family farmhouse. Gordon had been chafing at the bit to get onto the roof since before he was even allowed on the ladder. "Actually, I was kind of hoping to miss it this year. Knowing Gordy, he'll either fall off or through the roof, and it'd be just my luck to have to clean up all the blood and guts."

"Do you think he'd notice if I clipped a bungee cord to the back of his pants?"

Scott chuckled at the wistful tone. "Dad, you do that, and he won't fall, he'll jump. More than once."

Jeff smiled as they got into the car. "You know, he's really turning into an amazing swimmer. As scatterbrained as he can be, when he gets up on the starting blocks he gets this intensity that is downright scary."

"Virg said he beat the older kids the other day."

"He didn't beat them, he annihilated them," Jeff said, shaking his head. "I have no idea where it comes from. I mean, I like to swim, but this competitive swimming thing is beyond me. Evan Daugherty has him working specifically on the butterfly stroke."

Scott shook his head. He knew exactly where his father was coming from. "I never could get the butterfly stroke to work for me. Three strokes in, and I was drowning."

"I know, me too. But your brother just flies across the pool. It's amazing."

"I'm going to have to see one of his practices while I'm home."

"He'll like that. If for no other reason than it'll mean a ride to the pool. He's been riding his bike whenever I'm not home. I'm going to have to put a stop to that for the winter. It's just not safe. But I can't be here all the time for him."

Scott frowned. "Virg isn't taking him?"

"Well, your brother has that funky metabolism. He needs more sleep than the rest of you. I'm not sure it would be any safer having him driving at five in the morning than having Gordon ride his bike."

Scott gave a dissatisfied little snort. He'd have a talk with Virgil about it, but he didn't want his dad knowing about it, so he changed the subject asking, "Has Virg gotten his M.I.T. acceptance yet?"

Jeff chuckled, "No, but he did get Wyoming State today."

Scott barked a laugh. "How did he take it?"

"You've never seen such a woebegone look in your life. Of course, the boys didn't help. John started in with that John Wayne imitation he does, and the kids were even worse channeling Woody from Toy Story. Your brother was hard put to be gracious about it."

"You know, he called me the other day when he got the letter from Kansas State. He was convinced that he would land up there and become a phys ed teacher."

"Yes, well, last week when he got a letter from Oregon, he said he didn't want to major in forestry, like that was even an option." Jeff shook his head. "I don't remember you being this paranoid about it."

"Oh, I was. I just never let on."

"Well, I talked to a few of my engineers and it seems M.I.T. has a reputation for being late with their letters. I tried telling your brother, but I don't think I got through to him."

They pulled up in front of the family home, and Scott sat back with a smile of pleasure. "You know, Dad, I think Grandpa was right. I breathe better in Kansas, too."

"Well, stop with the breathing, and let's get into the house. You know your grandmother has probably stayed up waiting for us, and she needs her rest, especially if we expect her to make us donuts and hot chocolate tomorrow."

With a grin, Scott got out of the car, and joined his father in taking the front steps two at a time.

"Do you think she'd like this one, Scott?"

Scott cocked his head, looking at the bright pink scarf his brother Alan was holding. "I dunno, kiddo, it's kind of bright."

"Yeah, that's what's good about it. All of Grandma's scarves are, like, dull and boring. I was thinking maybe she'd like a bright one for once."

Scott started to say something, then stopped and thought about it. Most of his grandmother's scarves were gifts from her son and grandsons, and Alan was right, the palette tended to run to earthy browns and greens. "You know, you're right. This might be just the thing."

Alan smiled, fingering the soft wool. "Then this is the one I want to get."

"Good enough. Let's go pay and get out of here."

The eleven-year-old beamed as he carried his prize to the cashier. Scott couldn't help his own smile in response. When Alan had asked him if he could take him Christmas shopping, Scott's first inclination was to say no. He hated Christmas shopping. The crowds were suffocating, and he didn't like the feeling of being rushed.

But when his youngest brother had surreptitiously started wringing his hands, Scott couldn't say no. And when his other brothers tried to hop on the bandwagon, Scott could tell by the sudden slumping of Alan's shoulders that the youngster had just wanted time alone with his big brother. Scott had waved his brothers off, even Virgil, and had driven Alan down to Garden City to pick out his gifts.

Scott had to admit, he enjoyed spending time with his younger brothers. Each one was totally different in attitude and point of view. Yesterday, he'd gotten up at the crack of dawn, surprising Gordon as the twelve-year-old prepared to pedal his way to his swimming practice and being surprised in turn at the level of skill his brother displayed in the pool. And the other night, he had stayed up late in the freezing winter air, sharing John's stargazing loft, teasingly trying to convince the teen that the constellation Capricorn really was called The Goat Fart in some circles.

Today, shopping with Alan, he'd been surprised at some of his brother's decisions. The kid didn't have a lot of money, but what he did have, he spent carefully, showing a lot of thought in the gifts he chose.

For instance, instead of heading to the Science aisle in the bookstore, Alan had gotten John a calendar featuring the wit and wisdom of Will Rogers. When Scott had thrown the boy a questioning look, Alan had responded that Johnny liked clever things, and his teacher had said that Will Rogers was clever.

The child had asked to go to one of the big discount stores and made a beeline to the pharmacy section, raising Scott's eyebrows. It made sense when the boy had reached for a box of chemical hand warmers, saying that when Virgil came in from outdoors and started playing the piano, it took him time to play good because his hands were so cold.

By the time Alan had picked out a padded bicycle seat for Gordon, Scott was practically glowing with pride. Being away at college, Scott was seeing his brother with new eyes. It was like the boy had gone from whiny toddler to thinking adolescent overnight.

Scott stood back as Alan got to the head of the line, calling out, "Don't forget to ask for a box, Al."

The boy glanced over and nodded his head, grinning. He pulled out his wallet, and paid, getting the necessary box, and thanking the cashier like someone twice his age. He came over to Scott, eyes shining like he'd won a prize. "I only need to get Dad, now."

"Okay, where to?"

"Pulanski's."

Scott smiled. "Really? What are you getting him?"

"A gearshift knob."

"A gearshift knob? What for?"

"Did you see that big tarp in the barn? Did you see what's under it?"

"Uh, no. What's under it?" Scott asked, his curiosity growing.

"Well, if you just peek at it, it looks like a pile of junk, but if you look close, there's a chassis, and a hemi, and some other stuff. I think he's going to build, like, an old-fashioned hot rod. You know, like, with the flames painted on the side? I looked up some of the parts in some books, and I'm pretty sure it's a hot rod. And I was looking at some pictures of hot rods on my computer, and a lot of them have these gearshift knobs that look like skulls with like, red ruby eyes, you know? And I thought Dad would like to have one for his hot rod."

Scott's eyebrows had climbed as he brother had gone on. "Really? You're sure it's for a rod?"

"Pretty sure. He keeps adding stuff to the pile, but he didn't answer when Johnny asked him about it. I think he wants to get all the parts before he starts on it."

"Okay, so, you've been watching pretty close?"

"Uh-huh. Every time he brings something else home, I go and look at it."

"So, is there anything you can think of that I can get him that he doesn't already have?"

"Um, I kind of wanted to get him this really cool steering wheel, but I don't have enough money. Maybe you could get him that?"

"Excellent. Tell you what. Let's go to Pulanski's and then we can grab a burger before we head home."

"Um…"

"I'm buying."

"You're buying? Then let's get steak."

Scott laughed. "How about a compromise? How about some ribs?"

"Cool!" Alan grinned from ear to ear.

Scott rolled his shoulders, to relieve the ache. "You know, Grandma, I'm getting too old for this."

"Oh, brother," John scoffed.

Virgil just snickered. As they got into the car, Scott shot Virgil a quelling look. "Laugh it up. One of these days they'll put you at the end of that table, and you'll see."

"Never happen. I'm in demand for skilled work. You and Johnny will just have to do all the grunt labor."

"Hey! I was doing a skilled job, too!" John huffed.

"No, no, no. Playing piano for the carolers is skilled work. Wrapping presents is grunt labor."

"Yeah? Have you ever seen Scott wrap a present? Believe me, compared to him, I am a highly skilled worker."

"Yeah, like either of you could lift fifty hams into charity baskets in a day," Scott sneered.

"Don't exaggerate, dear," Ruth Tracy said as she patted her hair into place. "There were only forty-seven hams this year. And you all made me very proud. Not every person there could say that their grandsons would take the time out to do charity work. All day long people were coming up to me to compliment me on how wonderful you all were."

"Grandma, you know we only do it for the cookies," John said with a smile.

Ruth shook her head, undeterred. "You do it because you are all good people. You care about others, and that is saying a lot in this day and age. Now, Scott, let's just head over to Watson's. After all that work, I believe we all deserve a treat."

"Uh, Watson's, Grandma?" Virgil sounded distinctly uncomfortable.

"Yes, Watson's. I have a hankering for a hot fudge sundae," Ruth said firmly.

"I was thinking maybe Grilley's instead. That way we could, um, take some donuts home for Dad and the kids."

Ruth shook her head. "The last I heard, Grilley's does not serve ice cream."

Scott had paused at the church's driveway. "Well, make up your minds. Do I turn left or right? I've got cars behind me."

"Right, honey. We're going to Watson's." Ruth pursed her lips. "But I think we'll just stop at Grilley's on the way home. That was a good thought, Virgil. We'll get some treats for tomorrow's breakfast."

Scott sensed Virgil stiffening behind him. He frowned when he heard John sniggering. Before he could say anything, Ruth asked sharply, "John, have you something to share?"

"No, Grandma," John replied. Scott could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He wasn't sure what the problem was, but he figured he'd ask Virgil when they got out of the car.

Kalvesta was a small town, so it was only a minute or so when they pulled into a parking space just a few doors down from Watson's Drug Store and Soda Fountain. Getting out of the car, Scott watched as John opened the passenger door, and lent his grandmother a hand getting out.

"Thank you, baby. Come along, boys, the hot fudge awaits!" Ruth declared, taking John's arm and marching off down the street.

Scott noticed Virgil was slow to get out of the car. "Okay, Virg, so what's the problem."

Virgil's mouth was set in a grim line. Closing his eyes, he sighed, and slumped his shoulders. "Addie, Jessica and Kim all work the counter at Watson's."

Scott grimaced in sympathy. Girls seemed to fall for his brother all the time. There was no such thing as a simple, friendly relationship with Virgil. Every girlfriend he had ever had had thrown herself at him as if he were the last guy on Earth. And when the somehow inevitable breakups occurred, the girls in question always took it hard, and usually got angry. The three girls in question were particularly nasty about it.

Scott wasn't sure if his grandmother knew the girls worked at Watson's. If she did, this was probably some sort of lesson she wanted Virgil to learn. If she didn't, she was probably in for a big shock.

"Well, let's go get it over with." Scott took a deep breath, wondering why he felt so apprehensive. It wasn't as if he had been involved with any of these girls.

Virgil nodded glumly, and slunk behind his older brother into the old-fashioned store. Scott opened the door, hearing the familiar tinkle of the bell. He led the way to the back of the store where the old style banquettes lined the wall. His grandmother and brother John were at the furthest one, and were chatting with Kim Sung, who looked pretty cute in her old-fashioned waitress outfit.

Looking to the left, he saw Jenner Magnuson at the counter, and felt a certain relief. At least they wouldn't have to worry about spit in their ice cream.

Scott automatically ran interference for his brother, putting a hand on Kim's shoulder, attracting her attention as Virgil walked around behind her, sliding into the booth next to John. "Kim! How have you been?"

"Oh, hello, Scott. Are you home for the holidays?" The teenager blossomed at the attention from a college man.

Scott held the girl's attention by maintaining eye contact and flashing a brilliant smile. He acted as if he had no idea of the nature of the breakup with his brother, which had included throwing cow's blood in Virgil's face. "Yes, I'm here until after New Year's. How long have you been working here?"

"Just a couple of months. And only on the weekends. I'm only here now because of winter break. What can I get you?"

"Virg and I both want Hot Fudge Banana Splits," Scott said with his most winning smile.

Kim started, only then noticing Virgil sitting quietly. "Oh, uh, okay, I'll have that right up."

Her cheeks red, the girl hurried away. Ruth watched her go, then put her hand over Scott's. "That was very smoothly done, baby, but you know, my intention here was to have Virgil conduct a civil conversation with her."

Virgil sat up. "What?"

Ruth shook her head. "Son, I know it is hard to break up with a girl. But we live in a very small town. You'll run into Kim Sung again and again. I don't expect you two to ever be friends, but I do expect you to be able to pass each other on the street without starting a shouting match. Oh, yes, I heard about that, and about some other goings on that I was not proud of." Ruth's tone caused Virgil to duck his head. "Now, when she brings our ice cream, I expect you to thank her properly, like you've been taught, and Scott, you'll kindly not interfere."

Scott murmured, "Yes, ma'am," along with Virgil.

The booth was quiet while they awaited Kim's return. "Well, here's a motley looking crew, if ever I saw one!"

Scott looked up and grinned. Tom Garman stood at their booth, smiling widely. "Ruth, how are you? How's Jeff?"

"Tom, it's nice to see you. Why don't you join us? Virgil, get Mr. Garman a chair." Ruth held out her hand for her son's old friend.

"No, don't bother, Virgil. I can't stay. I just stopped by to pick up a prescription, and had to just say hello."

"Well, Jeff is back from his trip, so give him a call. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

"I'll do just that. If I don't see you again before the 25th, have a Merry Christmas!"

All four Tracys responded, wishing the man a Merry Christmas. Before he walked away, Kim was back with a large tray carrying their order. "Hot Fudge Sundae," she said as she expertly slid a tulip-shaped glass to Ruth.

Taking a second glass with pink ice cream and red topping, she slid it in front of John. "Cherry Bomb Sundae."

John licked his lips in anticipation, and said, loudly, "Thank you, Kim."

Kim smiled at John, then placed a larger dish in front of Scott. "Hot Fudge Banana Split."

"This looks great, Kim, thanks."

There was a slight hesitation as Kim picked up the last dish, and Virgil tensed, apparently expecting the ice cream to be dumped on his lap or in his face. Scott did his own tensing, determined to prevent such a disaster from happening if he could. But despite a clenched jaw, Kim simply placed the dessert in front of Virgil, not saying a word.

As she turned to go, Virgil let out a breath, and with a glance at his grandma, said softly, "Thank you, Kim."

The girl paused, and with a pained look, said to no one in particular, "You're welcome," then fled back to the counter.

There was a general sigh of relief from the three Tracy sons, and Ruth said, "There now. That wasn't so hard, was it? Believe me, Virgil, it's never a good thing to let things fester. Kim will be better for knowing she can walk through town without worrying about running into you."

Virgil had already started on his ice cream, and he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Scott dug into his own treat, and after the first bite, sat back, savoring the flavor. Shaking his head, he said, "You know Grandma, I've had Hot Fudge Banana Splits in New Haven, but they just don't taste the same. I wonder why that is."

"Ag haze," Virgil said dryly.

Scott snorted a laugh, as Johnny frowned, shaking his head. "In the middle of winter? I don't think so."

Ruth shook her own head, her eyes twinkling, "I'm not so sure, sweetheart. When your Aunt Tina and I got up to Banff and started hanging up our clothes, I was sure that there was wheat chaff on every piece of clothing I took."

With a smile, Scott pointed his spoon at John. "You know, Johnny, Dad was telling me just the other day that he could spot Kansas from orbit. Said the color gave it away."

"Yup, even if they plowed under every farm in the state tomorrow, the agricultural haze would still be there when you graduate high school," Virgil said sagely.

John looked from his grandmother, to each of his brothers, then just rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh."

Scott laughed, Ruth and Virgil joining in, and after a moment, John laughed, too. The family ate their ice cream, and Scott basked in the good feelings.

Scott turned the heater in the tractor cab up another notch. Not even the fleece-lined gloves seemed to be keeping out the winter cold. After a heavy snowfall the night before, Scott and Virgil had hooked up the snowplow blade to the John Deere, and now Scott was clearing the driveway up to the main road.

He checked his watch and sighed. His plans for the day were shot. Instead of getting together with his friend, Wyatt, he was going to be stuck clearing the road into town.

His father had bought the blade when one of the town's elderly snowplows had given up the ghost two winters earlier. If Scott just stayed home, the road would eventually get plowed, but probably not for a couple of days.

Scott could have said nothing when his father had grabbed his coat, saying he was getting out the tractor. But his dad had promised to spend the day with his sons, and Scott had seen the faces fall when the boys had realized their game day was being cancelled.

He told his dad to stay put, that he had some Christmas shopping to do, and he might as well use the tractor as a car. Looking out at the four feet of snow covering the yard and driveway, Jeff had simply cocked an eyebrow.

Scott looked his father straight in the eye, and just smiled. Jeff quickly realized that his son was giving him a gift of time, and he nodded, slapping Scott's shoulder, and telling him thanks.

Ruth had appeared with a thermos of hot coffee and a jug of water. She made sure Scott's phone was fully charged. She gave him a list of farms that would need to their driveways cleared, and ordered him to keep in touch, and to keep hydrated.

That was a half-hour ago, and he had only made it as far as the main road. The snow had proven to be heavy as well as deep, and Scott had found he needed two passes to do a good job of clearing it.

At the road, he turned away from the town, heading for the Wilkens farm. He would clear there, and at the Pendergast's a few miles beyond. Mr. Milstein, who owned the big farm beyond that would clear from the Pendergast's out to the interstate.

As he drove the snowplow up the road, he realized the tricky part would be to actually find the Wilkens' driveway. The farmland in the area was for the most part flat, and the deep snow was a great leveler. In fact, Scott was finding that if he wasn't particularly careful, he would drift off the road onto the gravel verge.

Just when he started to think he'd missed the turnoff, he saw old Mr. Wilkens waving to him, well off to the right. Scott pulled level with the man, and shook his head. He could see where the elderly farmer had broken ground through the snow in a straight line from a rise in the distance.

Scott grimaced with chagrin as he realized he could see the smoke from the chimney of the farmhouse, and once seen, he didn't know how he could have missed it. He watched as Mr. Wilkens stopped, and plowed to the left, planted a flag, then plowed back to the right to plant another one.

Scott put the tractor in gear, and lined himself up between the flags, and pushed forward, until he was even with the old man. Opening his door, he said, "Thanks, Mr. Wilkens. I'm not sure I could have found the way without your help."

"Scott! How are you? How's that fancy school of yours?" Greg Wilkens shook Scott's hand as he climbed up into the tractor cab.

"I'm fine, sir. School's good. We beat Harvard, and that's the only game that really matters. How have you been? I didn't really expect to see you wading through that snow."

"Well, I'll tell you, the wife is cooking up a storm. And Susie brought her girls over yesterday, and they're cleaning house. No sane man stays in a house full of women when they're cooking and cleaning. If you hadn't come when you did, I was thinking I'd build myself a snow fort to hide out in."

Scott laughed. "I know what you're saying. When my grandma starts in, we all head for the hills."

Greg nodded. "Just follow my path all the way back to the house, then around the side to the barn. I'll just spend some quality time with the cows."

"Okay, sounds good to me." Scott followed Greg's instructions, and had the drive plowed past the house and to the barn within an hour.

As Greg was climbing down out of the cab, a young girl came running out of the house, carrying a brown paper bag. She almost made it to the tractor when the icy ground caused her feet to fly out from under her. She was saved a nasty spill when Greg caught her. "Whoa, now, Sarah! You know better than to run when there's ice. What's your big hurry?"

The girl held up the bag, "Grandma wanted me to give this to Mr. Tracy."

"Well, then, I guess you'd better give it to him."

The girl climbed up, and seeing Scott, her eyes widened. "You're not Mr. Tracy. You're just Alan's brother."

Scott worked to hide his grin. The girl had definitely sounded disappointed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Sarah, apologize to the man. He was good enough to come all this way just so you and your mom could get home by Christmas."

The child's cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, Scott. I didn't mean to be mean. I just kind of wanted to talk to your dad."

"My dad? Why?"

"I wanted to ask him about how to be an astronaut. Alan says only boys can, but I know girls can too, and I wanted to ask him how to do it."

"No, girls can be astronauts, too. I think Alan was just kidding you. Tell you what. Give me your phone number, and I'll tell my dad, and maybe he can call you."

"Really? You think he would?"

"I don't see why not." Scott smiled at the pigtailed girl, who grinned to beat the band. She pulled a pencil with a fuzzy ball on the end out of her pocket, and wrote her number on the bag, which she then handed to Scott.

"Don't forget to give it to him."

"I won't," Scott promised. He looked over at Greg and said, "I've got to get going, unless you need something else?"

"No, Scott, you've done a great job. You head on out, and thank you."

"You're welcome." Scott smiled, closing the cab door, and waving as he got the big John Deere turned around. As he had at home, he engaged the plow at the start of the long driveway, widening it as he returned to the main road.

As he got back onto the road, he pulled out his cell phone, and hit the speed dial. "Dad? Hi. I just finished the Wilkens' and I'm heading out to the Pendergast's. No, no trouble. Oh, before I forget, can you take down this number?"

Scott waited while his father got pen and paper, then gave him the phone number that Sarah Wilkens had given him, telling him of her desire to become an astronaut. Jeff promised to give the kid a call, and Scott hung up to concentrate on his work.

For all that he was only sitting behind the wheel, and the big tractor was doing all of the work, Scott found the constant tension to be exhausting. He thought that at least the Pendergast's driveway was well-marked with an actual gateway between two short brick fences.

As he came up over the rise to the gateway, he was surprised to find the road and driveway were already plowed. As he watched, a red tractor sporting a snowplow blade was making its slow way back up the driveway to the road. He pushed his tractor forward through the snow drift thrown up by the other tractor, and got himself turned around, facing back the way he came.

Scott waited until the second tractor pulled up next to him. He opened his cab door, and was surprised when the other door opened to reveal Jenna Milstein, instead of her father. Raising his voice to be heard over the idling tractors, Scott said, "Jenna, I thought I was doing out to the end of this property, and you folks were doing up to the interstate."

The freckled sixteen-year-old nodded. "Yeah, Dad's working out to the interstate. I was just supposed to go to the end of our farm, but when I got there, I just figured I would keep going until I ran into you."

Scott frowned a bit. "Well, you've done a good job as far as I can see. Are you sure you can get home safely? Do you want me to lead the way?"

Jenna shot Scott a look. "I've driven tractors since I was eight-years-old. This isn't any different from plowing a field."

Scott grinned. "Okay, I just thought I'd ask. Thanks for the help, I really appreciate it."

"No problem. Besides, Mrs. Pendergast gave me a summer sausage to say thanks. I love summer sausage!"

Scott laughed. "All right, I see I'll have to be faster the next time. Take it easy."

The girl grinned, and the two parted, their respective tractors chugging and snowplows clanging as they scraped the road. Scott kept checking his rearview mirror until he was back over the rise, but Jenna seemed to be competent, keeping a straight course, and clearing more of the road as she went.

Scott checked in with his dad once again, and by the time he was passing the Wilkens' driveway, he was thinking maybe he should stop at home for a break. As he approached the long driveway, he found himself smiling. His brother Virgil stood there, waving, carrying a couple of snow shovels.

As he pulled up, Virgil jumped up on the step and opened the cab door. "Hey. I thought I'd come with you, and help."

"Cool. You want to drive for a while?"

"Really? Yes!"

Scott grinned at his brother's enthusiasm. "Okay, here's how we'll do it. You drive while we're on the main road, and I'll drive in the driveways."

"That works for me." Virgil grinned.

Scott shifted out of the driver's seat and into the small backward facing jump seat. He figured he'd let Virgil find out just how hard driving a snowplow was.

Shifting the tractor into gear, and dropping the snowplow down, Virgil turned worried eyes on his older brother. "Scott, you know how Grandma made me talk to Kim yesterday? Do you think she really thinks I'm going to stay in Kalvesta once I've finished college?"

Scott took a deep breath to consider the question.

Scott sat in his bedroom, working on the computer. His father had given him permission to use the schematics from the little prototype jet in an extra credit project for one of his design classes, and he was just wrapping up his report.

It was a rare afternoon of quiet in the Tracy household. His dad had taken his three younger brothers to the movies, and his grandmother was in the kitchen baking cookies. A movement out the window caught his eye, and he looked up to see his brother Virgil coming down the long driveway.

As he had every day that Scott had been home, the teen had gone out to the main road to get the mail. Scott watched as his brother slowly made his way back to the house, stopping frequently as he read whatever it was that he had gotten.

Scott looked back at his report, and after a moment, shut the computer down, figuring his brother's mental health was more important at the moment. He reached the front hallway just as the door opened, and his preoccupied brother walked in, still concentrating on what appeared to be a series of brochures.

"Whatcha got there, Virg?"

Virgil looked up, startled. "Uh, this is stuff from Denver Institute of Advanced Technology."

"D.I.A.T.? You got your acceptance?"

"Um, yeah."

Scott raised an eyebrow at the slightly bewildered tone in Virgil's voice. "Yeah? That's good, right?"

Frowning, Virgil thrust the handful of brochures forward. "Look at this stuff, Scott. Here, look at this one. It's a comparison of the job offers their graduates get against the job offers M.I.T. graduates get. It says the top ten percent of M.I.T. grads start at a hundred thousand or more, but at Denver, seventeen percent start that high."

"So you're only getting into engineering for the money?"

That stopped his brother, but only for a moment. "No, of course not. But I also want to be able to get the jobs I want. I mean, if more companies want Denver grads, that means they'd have more choice, doesn't it? And look at this, it's their classes. I could start structural mechanics as a freshman. And look at this one, 'Computational Mechanics of Materials.' God, I want to start that one tomorrow!"

Scott blinked. "Am I hearing you right? You're considering Denver instead of M.I.T.?"

"No!… Yes… I don't know… Scott, I've wanted to go to M.I.T. since I was in junior high. I never even considered anything else, but this school looks… good."

Scott nodded, remembering his own confusion when he had first arrived at Yale, and discovered he actually liked it there. "Well, keep in mind, you haven't seen the literature from M.I.T. yet. At this stage, they're trying to sell you on their school. It's all going to look good."

"Yeah." Virgil said, distracted. He walked away, still engrossed by the tantalizing brochures.

Scott buttoned his new wool coat, tucking the equally new muffler in. Picking up his duffle bag, he turned to face his family. "Okay, I'm all set. I'll see you guys in the spring."

His brothers all came forward to wrap him in a group hug, Alan saying, "I wish you didn't have to go."

"Yeah, Scott, it's like, all boring around here without you," Gordon chimed in.

"Hey, I'll be back before you know it. Grandma, you won't forget your promise, right? One apple pie a month, right?"

"I'll remind her, Scott." Virgil stood looking resigned at his brother's departure.

"And I'll remind Virg," John said, stoutly.

"As if I need any reminders from the likes of you!" Ruth sniffed. "Don't you worry baby, you'll get your pies."

"All right, let's get this show on the road," Jeff said gruffly, opening the front door.

With a smile, Scott stepped out into the bright winter sunlight. "Bye, guys!"

To the sounds of farewell, Scott went down the steps of the porch to the waiting car. He dropped his duffle in the backseat, then dropped into the passenger seat next to his father. He waved to his family as his dad pulled away.

"Okay, so you're ready?" Jeff asked with a smile.

"I was born ready, Dad. I can't wait!" Scott grinned in anticipation. He hadn't actually gotten an opportunity to try out the little red sport jet his father had acquired. But this morning, his father had nonchalantly said he had a meeting in New York, and could fly Scott to New Haven if he was willing to leave a day earlier.

Scott had jumped at the chance, knowing that his dad would let him fly the jet at least part of the way. He had impressed his dad with the report he had written on the innovations that the jet displayed. He just hoped Professor McQuarry would be as impressed.

"It's been good having you home, son," Jeff said, quietly.

"It's been good to be home. The kids are growing so fast, it's like meeting them all over again every time I come home."

"I feel that way every time I take a long trip. I leave behind little kids and come home to find young men. Of course, some things never change. I think your brother John still has two or three presents left to open."

Scott laughed at his father's wry remark. Johnny had always been the last to finish opening his Christmas presents because he always wanted to enjoy each gift immediately. One year, his grandma had tried to break the boy of the habit by wrapping up several pairs of socks separately. John had tried on each and every sock before opening the next, identical gift.

"I think he just does it to be different. God knows everybody else opens their gifts fast enough."

"Oh, he's different all right. Did he tell you he's decided he wants to go to Harvard?"

"What? Oh, that's just… wrong."

Jeff shrugged. "It's his choice. I think he just wants to get a rise out of you."

"I'll give him a rise. Harvard? He better not."

"He's got a few years to think it over. He was looking at that paperwork that Virgil got from M.I.T. last night. Maybe he'll go there, now that Virgil is leaning towards Denver."

Scott shook his head. "Who would have thought that Virgil would pick any other school than M.I.T.?"

"Frankly, I'm pleased. I knew Yale was going to be right for you, even if you didn't think so at the time. Same way, I'm convinced Denver is the right school for Virgil. They've got some very forward thinkers up there. That wing configuration on the sport jet that you like so much came from one of my Denver engineers. Virgil, with his creativity, will do well there."

"Well, you were right about me at Yale. I feel like the teachers there are perfect for me."

"They darn well better be at the price I'm paying," Jeff grumbled.

"Hey, you're the one that made me turn down the scholarship. You said I should leave it for someone who needs the money."

"True. I don't begrudge a single dime. It's a good school, and I'm glad to have you going there."

Scott smiled, then his eyes brightened as they reached the airstrip at the far side of the farm. The little red jet sat gleaming in the sunshine, looking all the brighter for the grays and whites of the snowy background.

Seeing the look on his son's face, Jeff said, "All right, I'm going to make a major sacrifice here. You can take first seat for the entire trip. Consider it just another Christmas present."

Knowing how much his father loved flying, Scott realized how great a gift it was, and with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, he got out of the car, and headed to the plane. His school and his future awaited, and he faced it all with joy and pride.