Steffi declared in a clear voice, ‘I want to become a girl indistinguishable from any other, naturally-born girl. I want to live everyday for the rest of my life as a female with no reminder or thought of being male. And I want to die an old, happy woman.’
‘Then let’s make it happen,’ Dr. Hastert said calmly.

The Beneficiary, by Karin Bishop

Selected entries from the Journal of Donna Everton

Part 8

4/26 (the second half)

Unbelievable, how it went with Dr. Hastert! Thank you, Carla, and God bless you! We left for lunch while the lab work was processed, and I went straight to a Bennigan’s that had opened since the last time I was in that area. We were seated and ordered before it dawned on Steffi that she was out in public fully dressed as a girl. She gave me a strange look as we both realized and then we laughed. It was a wonderful moment to watch her blossom, to watch her accept that she was a girl in the world now–a pretty girl in the world.

I was still stunned by the appointment. There had been that shocked silence before we realized that the doctor had accepted my story, her story, our story …no, that’s not right. It makes it sound like we were lying when we weren’t. Well …I did the ‘sin of omission’ by not mentioning the CDs. It was a sort of lie, but then again, the feminizing CDs hadn’t been played. Setting aside for a moment how feminine Steve-now-Steffi has become, the CDs seem to have resulted in a kinder person with a good work ethic. Since the CD documentation didn’t mention any feminizing in the CDs already played, I don’t think any doctor, when medically evaluating a patient, would care that now the patient can study better. That would seem to be more the province of a psychiatrist. So I didn’t feel that I’d lied to Dr. Hastert.

But had Steffi lied? Or at least embroidered the situation? At some point I realized I’d have to ask Steffi if she really knew about the hormones. I’d already learned that she’s very, very smart and might have instantly put two and two together, realizing that the doctor would not allow anything to go one step further if she thought Steven had been turned into a girl without his knowledge.

While we ate–at a corner booth out of the way; I’d requested it from the hostess–Steffi told me of her experience, her first time with the paper-gown-and-stirrup-chair. She had about the same emotions all of us females do, exposed like that, but with the added shame of having male genitals dangling between her legs. She loved when the doctor inspected her breasts–because it seemed to validate her femaleness–and hated when the doctor inspected her penis–because it seemed to validate her maleness. But Dr. Hastert was coolly professional, treating her genitals with the same calm detachment as when she looked into Steffi’s eyes with the little penlight. All I could say was, ‘We all hate it and endure it; just remember that even Dr. Hastert has to climb up on one of those things!’ and we giggled because neither of us could quite picture it.

When we were together again with the doctor in her office, Dr. Hastert had explained some of the test results that had just come back, that all supported the assumption that at some point for some reason–maybe in the womb, for example–Steven’s body and mind were more inclined to be female. By a large margin, actually; perhaps even without any blockers or hormones, Steven’s female inclination would have been apparent. The delicate child I’d remembered from my long-ago visit now made perfect sense. So now Steffi would remain on the hormones, since her body was used to them. Debbie’s nursing skills (and any doctors she’d sought advice from) had the dosage correct so far. The main thing now was ‘socialization’; as soon as she healed to the point where she could regularly be out and about, it was time for Steffi to enter the world. She needed to meet girls her own age, develop friendships and eventually that special BFF relationship so vital to girls. She needed to learn to interact as a girl with boys. And she needed to start thinking of her future life as a girl and woman.

Dr. Hastert went on to tell us that there would be all sort of legal hoops to jump through, which surprised me; I hadn’t thought things through fully. The doctor was well-practiced in things; the only unusual complication was our relationship. Dr. Hastert pointed out that first, I had to get legal guardianship. I had just assumed that with Debbie gone I assumed guardianship. What a bozo I am!

Once the legal guardianship is established we can go for the name change that will officially welcome Stephanie Everton to the world! Steffi had told me on the way to Bennigan’s that she didn’t want her father’s name anymore and for some reason didn’t want our maiden name, Bridger. But to keep Mark’s name and memory going, I’m delighted she wants Everton. And it will simplify things when we’re both introduced to people as ‘the Evertons’.

School records? I had no idea how to do that; thank God it was in the paperwork from Dr. Hastert’s secretary. So, guardianship, name change, school records. And then on with our lives …

Watching her eat, I was struck by how …feminine she is. Naturally. The doctor’s question about Steven being effeminate didn’t have any meaning. How she handled her fork, tucked hair behind her ear, used her free hand to gesture while she talked …how much was her and how much were the CDs? And could they affect, I don’t know …I guess you could call them ‘motor functions’, bodily movements, whatever. I couldn’t see how you could subliminally make someone use their hands a certain way.

Suddenly I realized what it was. The CDs didn’t make Steffi’s gestures feminine; the CDs allowed her to remove or get around the mental block of how a male was supposed to gesture and act. The CDs released the inner person, perhaps. I realized in a flash how the process actually worked: If a customer ordered a set of ‘Stop-Smoking’ CDs, for example, it was because they wanted to quit but something else was in their mind–besides the nicotine addiction–that was preventing them from fully quitting. The CDs couldn’t make somebody start to want to quit; but they would allow the person who already wanted to quit to get around the block and the desire to quit would seem stronger. It was always there, but blocked.

In the case of ‘feminizing’ CDs, it would be similar. If the listener’s inner person wanted to be female–or was female, in their core identity, the CDs would allow them to express it openly. If the inner person were a male, with naturally masculine gestures, there probably wouldn’t be any change. I hadn’t really seen Steven gesture or move for years but I imagine he sort of ‘butched things up’ without consciously thinking about it, because he’d been worried about his size, and the bullying, and trying to match up to his father. And Steven had been fighting Steffi’s emergence even though she hadn’t had a name at that time.

That was the hardest thing to wrap my head around–how it would be to have one nature inside of you and do everything you could to mask or deny that nature, and be faced with a lifetime of lying to yourself, keeping yourself hidden. And if psychologists are right, all of that might be happening without even being conscious of it happening. No wonder you might start acting up, getting in trouble, letting your grades slip. So for whatever conscious or unconscious reasons Debbie had, whether she knew she was freeing her trapped daughter or she’d just decided to eliminate her unruly son, she had acted in the best interest of her child.

And as stunned as I’d been to hear Steffi calmly, rationally explain her past to Dr. Hastert, it felt like truth. It seemed to connect the dots, fill in the missing blanks, whatever metaphor. Maybe I wanted to believe it was true–that Steven was transgender all along, acted out to over-compensate, and perhaps persuaded his mother to begin his transition to female–because it let me off the hook, so to speak. I’d thought Debbie was forcing girlhood on him and, to my shame, I continued her program. Knowing that there was no forcing involved was a relief but can’t really expiate my guilt. But at least I didn’t damage my niece!

Wow …so much to think about!

After the doctor’s it was Mall Time. Steffi was understandably nervous and excited. I was concerned about her strength and walking ability and was keeping an eye on her for signs of tiring, but her excitement was giving her new energy. Still, we moved slowly due to the crutches and to keep from exhaustion, and I forced her to sit several times on those little couches. I’d use the sitting time to talk about our next target.

As I promised, it was time for the bra fitter. I’d called while Steffi was in with the doctor so she was expecting us. This is a rite of passage for all daughters and mothers, or for us, nephews and aunts (?). I’ve got to just forget ever thinking that; Steffi is my niece. And always has been, really. The fitter, Mrs. Gonzalez, was excellent with a ‘bedroom manner’ even sweeter than Dr. Hastert. She was almost grandmotherly and took the nervous girl under her wing. Steffi said she’d like me to be present, not to check up on Mrs. Gonzalez but to share in the ritual. I gave her a warm smile and observed.

Steffi removed her bolero jacket and blouse and bra, covering her breasts with her arms and slipped on the light silk robe she was handed. Then Mrs. Gonzalez measured carefully and wrote everything down and flipped through a thick binder of catalogs and then had Steffi choose some bras that she liked. She chose three and Mrs. Gonzalez left us alone for a moment and returned quickly with a handful of bras and had Steffi try them on, one at a time, tugging here and feeling there and writing down some more. Then she came back with another handful and by the time she was done Steffi had half-a-dozen styles that fit beautifully. Now it was a matter of us going into the racks and picking the same style in the right sizes and in the colors she wanted and pretty soon we had a shopping bag full of lingerie. Steffi had bras, panties, camisoles, and some more nightgowns.

We took the bag to the car and I told her that Claire’s was next. Her ears were now pierced, thanks to Tina, and it was time for her to pick up earrings and other jewelry to her taste. She also liked scarves, it turned out, and a wide variety of bracelets and bangles like girls her age. Some hair accessories, too. Fortunately the things from Claire’s took up little space so we didn’t need to haul them to the car but continued to shop. I told Steffi that she’d have more fun with Tina and any girls closer to her own age, but since it was the two of us, I was going to do the ‘mother’ thing–or at least the ‘hip aunt’ thing–by focusing on the fundamentals. Let her come back with Tina for the kicky miniskirts and cute tops thing; she’ll get a better feeling for girlhood.

The next major visit was the salon. The reason for the trip to Claire’s first was that we were early for the salon appointment I’d made. As we slowly walked across the mall, I told Steffi what to expect and how to act. When we got there, I gave them the ‘my niece is growing out of her tomboy phase’ speech and the staff understood and led her away. I decided to have a quick manicure as well so I was in the salon. They did all of their magic and I was reading a magazine, admiring my pretty nails and wondering how long they were going to last, when this vision was led out. They had cut and styled her hair; it was still past her shoulders but not much more, but best of all it was so becoming! It had been cut for a side part with sexy sweep of bangs, and was textured and bias cut at the ends in a very hip, very cool, very whatever-they-call-it look. She was very attractive and looked older than her fourteen years. They had also shaped her eyebrows into delicate, feminine arches that erased any lingering trace of Steven.

So, on to essentials. A good purse. Some leotards and workout clothes. Belts. Several shoes; flats, sandals, what we used to call ‘tennis shoes’, and some serious black dress pumps with a 3’ heel. That made me think of ‘dress-up’ clothes, the kind that a couple of young girls wouldn’t shop for on their own. We picked up a more formal sleeveless white sheath, actually; and managed to find what will no doubt be the first of many Little Black Dresses. She was so cute in it, and turning this way and that in the three-way mirror, I think for the very first time she saw herself as a sexy girl.

I’m going to have to keep a close eye on this one as she grows up!

Walking through the mall on crutches had been agony for her and I’ll bet the first thing she wants to do when she’s strong enough is hit it again! It was more than enough for one day, one emotional rush after another. Finally, exhausted and deliriously happy, we returned home. I was surprised that we had a brisk dinner crowd; Tina was working tables and Steffi was disappointed that she couldn’t come see her new goodies, but I told her if there was a slow period at the end of the night I’d see if I couldn’t get Tina up to her for a little bit before she headed home to Darryl. Steffi hugged me and said, ‘Thanks, Andonna! You’re the best!’ and I wondered how long that’s going to last!

There were some messages waiting for me; one was from Dr. Hastert saying that the more thorough tests confirmed her original diagnosis and to call for scheduling regular appointments. She also gave me the name of ‘a good lawyer’ to handle the documentation changes. The second call made me glad that I had just received the name of ‘a good lawyer’. It was from the State Patrol in Debbie’s home state; they wanted me to call tomorrow. I’m hoping that it’s something simple, about the accident or something, but it cast a pall on what has been otherwise a wonderful, wonderful day.

4/28

Well, yesterday was madness; and today wasn’t much better. I spent nearly all the time on the phone. It seems that when vendors want to change their contracts, or their products, or their schedules, or anything …they gang up and do it at the same time.

And then this thing with the State Patrol …

It was a fishing expedition, pure and simple. I think they’ve learned something and the lieutenant somebody-or-other didn’t want to come right out with it. Something about Dave. After what Steffi had told me about ‘Mexico’, I’m betting they found his body, or at least have an idea what happened to him.

I feel terrible; I found myself praying, ‘Please, don’t let Dave be wanting his son back!’

5/6

Court date for the formal guardianship. I guess I passed with flying colors. The judge said he wished every family case could be settled so simply. On the other hand, something–just a feeling–makes me hope he isn’t around for the name change. Steffi wasn’t in court; she was ‘Steven, bedridden while healing from his injuries’. I was worried that it was almost perjury but Aaron Summerfield, the lawyer, assured me that there was a procedure and everything had to be by the book, and B couldn’t be done until A was done–and don’t even think about C until A and then B! So that’s the little dance we had to do, according to Aaron. First, Donna gets Steven, then Steven becomes Stephanie, then Donna gets Stephanie. And then all documents get revised.

So I’ve got Steven–on paper, now–and then we had lunch, and then Steffi showed up and yes! we were in another court and Steven became Stephanie and then that same judge granted the revised guardianship and Steffi’s stuck with me, now! Aaron said that he’d prepare everything for the school records, and was applying for a passport as well, since it would be easier while the whole document revision process was active.

As to the other …interesting news, the State Patrol–a Captain with the dashing name of Velasquez this time; at least I’m moving up in the ranks–finally laid his cards on the table. From what I’ve read, a high percentage of crimes are solved not through detective work or even CSI gadgetry, but through coincidences that point to the solution.

A tail light. It all came down to a tail light.

A cop did a routine traffic stop on a car with a faulty tail light. The driver pulled over but his partner panicked and shot the policeman. The officer survived, but the shooter didn’t survive the gun battle with police six hours later. Police react faster than light when one of their own is attacked. Once the shooter was body-bagged and the driver taken into custody–this is fun, like writing a novel!–it was discovered that the tail light was faulty because the body inside the trunk was rubbing against it. I got a chill just writing that! The driver admitted they were a disposal team and eventually admitted to years of such activity. Once he was broken, he was very helpful in listing dates and individuals and locations. It led to an auto junkyard (among other businesses such as a landfill and a tannery–yuck!) being raided and certain vehicles being inspected for DNA, often from the bloody leakage from the compressed car.

They found Dave. It was just as Steffi had overheard–right out of Goldfinger! The State Patrol and local police now officially listed Dave as a murder victim and went on with the expanding case. But I was notified as the only next-of-kin for Debbie. Captain Velasquez had no interest in me or Steffi or our situation, but he said there might be something with the insurance company, if there was a policy. I told him I had no idea if there was or not.

But the really great news is that Steffi is walking, pretty well unaided! Thanks to Carla’s touch-point system, Steffi knows about having convenient handholds and I’ve watched her move around; she’s never more than two steps or so from something to hang on. But today she walked out into the back and talked with Tim, and there were no handholds or touch-points for fifty feet or more! She walks carefully, afraid of a stumble, of course, but there is a grace to her motion and a gentle sway. I have a hunch that once she’s fully healed and walking in heels, she’s going to be one very sexy fifteen-year-old! Because Dr. Hastert–who is actually her primary physician now; did I mention that before?–says that by midsummer Steffi should be fully healed and building muscle strength so when her birthday rolls around in September, she’ll be good to go.

5/10

Tonight was important. I’ve been talking with Steffi about working around the inn, earning money, and I’ve been trying to get her out of her bedroom/office. Her website for the inn has been getting easily three times the hits than before she re-did it, and she says she still needed the full-restaurant shot and thought a staff shot would be nice, too. But she’s gotten two nibbles from local businesses that wanted her to design their sites–never dreaming she was a fourteen-year-old convalescent!–and she’s certainly going to be making money. In fact, more money than I would pay her but she needs socialization, Dr. Hastert says at every appointment.

Steffi is still shy but had a fantastic time with Tina at the mall two days ago. The girls–I keep calling them that even though Tina is, technically, a married woman–had a field day and came back with my imposed limit of $200 in purchases, but had spent very wisely and Steffi had a growing closet and finally had typical teen clothes. They giggled their way back home, through putting things away, and right up until the time that Darryl showed up. He’s never come here before, but did that night and started yelling that she was supposed to be home getting his meal ready but instead she was cutting work and fooling around and did she even have a job?

This was an ugly, public scene, and I saw Tim appear out of nowhere and head for Darryl but he caught my eye and I put up a hand; Tim held point while I walked up to Darryl and simply said, ‘Follow me’ and walked to the far corner of the property. He followed since I was the source of a substantial part of his income. When we were a distance away, still under the eagle eye of Tim, I turned and folded my arms and stared at Darryl for a moment. He was getting ready to bluster but I off-footed him by starting conciliatory.

‘Darryl, you have a right to know why Tina was not working tonight.’ He stopped his build-up and blinked at my gentle tone. ‘I know things are tough for a young couple starting out and I’m very lucky to have Tina as an employee.’ He nodded, uncertain. He was sure I was going to yell and give him one of those ‘how dare you!’ lectures.

I said, ‘I don’t know what Tina has told you about my niece …’ I trailed off, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged and shook his head, saying, ‘Didn’t know you had one.’

I nodded. ‘My sister’s child. My sister and nephew were killed by a drunk driver at the end of the year, and Steffi–she’s Stephanie–was the only survivor but was critically injured. She’s been recovering for months and is only now able to walk unaided.’

‘That’s a bummer. I mean, about your sister and nephew,’ Darryl said.

I knew that one of his in-laws had been seriously injured by a drunk driver years ago and I was counting on that.

‘Thank you, Darryl. But Steffi is living with me, now; since my husband Mark died, Steffi and I are the only family now; we only have each other. But I’ve got an inn to run, and a pretty good restaurant, and I’ve got my hands full.’

‘I can see that,’ he nodded.

‘Tina’s a very good waitress, and a very good employee. Well, Steffi was working on her crutches with her physical therapist–she’s really good but really expensive–and Steffi and Tina met. They seemed to hit it off, and because Tina’s such a great girl, for the first time Steffi came out of her depression after the accident. And the doctors said the depression was affecting her healing.’ Okay, so I was lying freely. But I got another set of nods from him.

‘So, Darryl, I made the decision. This was my doing. I asked Tina if she would, you know, be a friend to Steffi, because she’s way closer in age to Steffi than I am. And I’m her aunt so I have to be like her mother, too, and girls need a friend, even if it’s only to bitch about how their aunt is riding them.’

He actually chuckled at that. Plus, I think using the word ‘bitch’ softened him up.

‘I pay Tina her salary, same as if she’s working, and I pay her the share of the tip money that she would earn if she was in the restaurant. Do you understand that? She loses absolutely no money by helping my niece. She earns what she would earn waiting tables. And I don’t keep her any longer than she would if she were waitressing. Plus, we’ve had busy nights and she waits tables, and we’ve had nights where she waits tables, things slow down, and I’ve asked her to at least look in on Steffi and cheer her up.’

He nodded. ‘She’s always been real good about that. When my mom got sick, it was Tina that kept her company every chance she got.’

‘She’s a very, very good person, Darryl,’ I said.

I was quiet then, as everything I’d said and the pleasant explanation sank in. Once I saw that it had, I changed my tone, becoming the bitch I’d mentioned and taking some pleasure in it.

‘She’s better than you deserve,’ I said coldly. ‘If you’re going to treat her like a slave, like a work horse and then like your own personal whore, then it’s best that you two divorce and you get out of her life. Right away.’

‘Wha-what?’ he gasped, blinking, totally blind-sided.

I pressed on. ‘You were the golden boy in high school but you just weren’t good enough or smart enough for college. And it’s turned you mean. You blame Tina and life in general for the fact that you never worked hard enough to make it. So every day is a pity party for you. You try to keep those high school days going with your buddies, drinking and fooling around, and it’s just a way to avoid growing up and being a man. And they probably tell you what you want to hear, reinforcing your own pity. So, Darryl, the question is to you. Can you stand up for yourself? You work for your dad’s car dealership–when you work. Would anybody else hire you? Can you get a job? Can you hold a job?’

He reacted like I was hitting him; little shocks snapped his head back and I continued the attack.

‘You can’t even make dinner for yourself? You need Tina to do it? Are you one of those mamma’s boys that have everything done for them? Wait, I know your mother. She’s a good woman and she’s probably despairing that she raised such a selfish, immature boy. You’re hurting your mother, and you’re hurting Tina, but she’s so good and so strong she doesn’t say a word or let on, but I can tell. I can tell she goes home to an ungrateful, complaining lump of a husband that she once loved and believed in but now feels a deep sadness and disappointment for. And, no, she hasn’t said a word against you or about you. She’s that good a person. You showed strength and promise on the football field a few years ago. How about now? It’s not football, it’s life, and you’re losing the game. So either let her go; divorce her and let her find a real man while you drink with your high-school buddies. Or man-up, grow up and be the kind of man and husband that will make Tina and all the rest of us proud to know.’

I started walking back, leaving the stunned Darryl staring after me, and turned after three steps and raised a finger. ‘And if you come onto my place of business and residence again raising a ruckus and affecting my customers and employees again, I will have the sheriff arrest you for trespassing. Am I clear, young man?’

He was so shocked that he could only nod, open-mouthed.

I said, ‘Good. Now go wait in your truck. I’ll send Tina out at the end of her work shift.’

‘That’s okay …she drove her own car. I’ll go home …tell her …tell her I can microwave something …’

On the way back to the inn, Tim came out of the shadows. ‘Felt pretty good, didn’t it?’

I shivered and blew out some air and said, ‘Yeah, but I was scared.’

Tim nodded and said, ‘Not out of the woods yet. Once he’s had time to think about it, if he’s really sour deep-down, he’ll take it out on Tina.’

My eyes widened in shock and fear. ‘God, Tim! I was so full of myself I didn’t think of that! If he lays one hand on her, it’ll be my fault!’

He said, ‘Donna, I was about to head to my place and see what the heck I’ve TiVo-ed tonight. Maybe I’ll take a moonlit drive.’

I realized he was going to follow Tina home and wait outside her house, in case there was any problem with Darryl. I’m so grateful for Tim! I squeezed his arm and thanked him and went inside. I told Tina that I was sending her home now. I told her that I’d given Darryl ‘what for’ and her eyes widened and she suppressed a giggle. ‘Bet that would have been fun to see!’ she said, but I told her I was worried he might turn on her. So I ordered her–not just suggested, but ordered, on pain of termination–to call me tonight once she knew everything was okay with Darryl. If things weren’t okay, and she couldn’t speak freely because Darryl was listening, she was supposed to apologize for ‘dropping the salad’. Either way, I’d call Tim’s cell phone and say she’s being forced so she needed help, or things were fine and come on home.

Thank God, she called later and said they’d had a long, quiet, sad talk, and he’d gone to bed–sober–and she was going to get ready for bed. I thanked her and told her that Steffi and I loved her and to be safe. When I called Tim to come home, he said he had a good book and a decent flashlight and was going to stay for awhile longer just to make sure. I told him he was one in a million and got a lump in my throat at his quiet strength.

So, back to tonight. After a bunch of calls, we got the Kiwanis bunch in for a retirement dinner and absolutely packed the place. As the reservations were coming in, I went to Steffi’s room. She was working at her computer, looking like a teen girl with homework. She wore khaki capris and a light blue camisole and that high ponytail again. Except now it doesn’t look like a horse’s mane because of her new hairstyle. I told her she had a task: She had one hour to shower and put on makeup, dress and be at the hostess station. I held a hanger with an outfit, a long black skirt with a high slit and a white silk blouse with a high collar. I told her black shoes; the pumps if she could–I know she’s been practicing in them in secret!–and she would hostess. Steffi stared at me; we’d talked about this but she probably never thought the day would come. I turned back and grinned, ‘Oh, and you are on the clock. See you at seven,’ and left her.

She was downstairs in fifty minutes. And she was stunning! Tina had taught her well; her makeup was more dramatic than her daily wear Her hair was piled up on her head, making her look not only older but timeless, like a blond Gibson Girl or something. It worked very well with the high collar, and I knew that wives would nudge their husbands’ eyes away from Steffi’s cleavage. I’d had the skirt ready for her in her size and it fit like a glove, and she was taller by wearing the pumps. She’d even added smoky pantyhose, even though I hadn’t specified it.

‘What do I do?’ she asked after I was done complimenting her. I took her through the procedure, checking the name on the list against the available seating. Tonight it was a piece of cake because we were closed to the public for the Kiwanis group, so there would be no waiting. Steffi would cradle the menus in her left arm and guide them to their table–she’s already familiar with our table numbering system–hand them their menus and tell them the name of their waitress, Bonnie, Carole, or Tina, and wish them a pleasant dinner and return for the next guests. I was worried about all the walking but she pointed out that every chair was a touch-point for her so I relaxed.

And she was fantastic, gliding like royalty with guests in her wake. I saw her once take the tiniest of bobbles on the way back from a table–even I have the occasional trouble with heels–and she placed a hand on the back of an occupied chair, leaned over the table and with a huge smile asked, ‘How’s everybody doing here?’ They nodded and smiled and she came back up to the hostess podium, holding on and flexing her ankle. What she’d done at the table was so smooth and professional I was in awe. How does she know this stuff?

What Steffi didn’t know was that Tim had the camera that we’d originally borrowed, and was taking pictures. Unobtrusively, without a flash, and then later, in a dark suit and tie that I didn’t know he had, he went through the tables asking if they’d like ‘a commemorative picture of this wonderful night?’ and then he’d use the flash. At the end of the night after the last guest left, I plucked Steffi from the chair I’d exiled her to–she was so dedicated that she would have walked her feet bloody if I hadn’t ordered her to sit down–and got everybody together for a group photo. Tim had set up a tripod so he could get in them, too.

Just before she went to bed, Steffi called me into her bedroom and showed me the uploaded photos. Despite her protests, I chose a busy restaurant photo that showed our stunning hostess, and a group photo that had her prominently featured as well. I think her protest was pro forma, because I could tell she was proud of her work. I hugged her and told her how very proud I am.

God, I absolutely love that girl!

End of Part 8