“I know when they’re going to move their next shipment. It’s in three hours.” I handed my father Stefano’s notebook. Our meeting had started late as we had waited for Francesco, who eventually cancelled on us. It wasn’t lost on either of us that it was the first time in twenty years he had missed one of these meetings.
I had been in my office in town all day making calls and preparing for our oil shipment to arrive. I needed things to go smoothly this evening. I had spent considerable hours trying to connect with Stefano’s mind before I was able to work out how his notes were kept. “It’s the day, then month,” I explained.
“This could be old.”
“It’s not. My guess would be he has one for each year. Flip the front cover and look at the spine.”
“Yup, there’s the year.” My father squinted a
