Cretaceous Sea

rise in status. He bathed standing in the small plas-tic tub in the sleeping tent and changed into fresh clothes. Afterward, he wandered off to the shore. He had fallen in love with the sea. He found its beauty and its vitality irresistible. For the first time, he truly understood why old people missed the beaches so. Watching the light on the moving water, it seemed strange and sad that one day this would become the Great Plains and the Dust Bowl.

A silver bell announced dinner, and Rick hastened to the pavilion to help serve. Con appeared wearing a dress and shoes.

'You look nice this evening,' said her father.

Con smiled. 'I brought you a present, Daddy.'

'What?'

'A seashell'

'Oh,' he said, sounding somewhat annoyed.

Con rang the silver bell and Joe and Pandit bore the ammonite from its hiding place. By the time they set it down in front of the pavilion, John Greighton was on his feet, staring in amazement.

'Your daughter's bagged you quite a trophy,' said James.

'How sweet,' said Sara.

John walked over to his present and appreciatively ran his hand over its glossy, smooth surface. 'This will look great in my office.'

'It'll be unique ... priceless,' said Peter Green.

Rick envisioned the publicity photographs—John Greighton with a hammy smile, showing off his latest possession. So much for secrecy, he thought. Strangely, Green seemed unperturbed, even pleased, with Greigh-ton's plans for the ammonite. A rich man's trophy— what a waste! Rick thought of Tom and how he might use such a gift. I'm merely the help, he reflected with an edge of bitterness. That shell was never mine to give.

Pandit brought out a tray of filled champagne flutes. 'A toast!' cried out James, lifting a glass high. Con's father took a glass, handed it to Con, then took one for himself.

'To the conquering huntress!' said James.

'To Constance!' said John Greighton. Beaming, he clinked Con's glass. 'Thank you, honey.' John Greighton's excitement set an upbeat tone for the meal. Only Sara seemed unaffected by his mood. She ap-peared miffed by the praise he lavished on Con, but held her tongue. Con basked in her father's attention, her eyes shining. Both Green and James bore the satisfied look of hosts whose party was going well. Once, Green lifted his glass in Rick's direction and gave him a silent nod. After Rick had his dinner with the staff, he walked out to the protected beach. He found Con there, still in her dinner dress. The wine had obviously gone to her head. She had thrown off her shoes and was whirling about the sand in a tipsy dance.

'Rick,' she cried. 'Isn't it wonderful?'

'Sure,' he replied, uncertain what she was referring to.

'I finally did it! I got 'em something he couldn't buy.'

'You sure did.'

'Sara Big-Tits-Boyton can't match that. All she gives him is ... well, you know what she gives him.'

'Yes,' said Rick dryly.

'I could get tits like Sara's. Think I should?'

'Con.'

'All I want is a scientific opinion. After all, you've seen mine. I know you've seen hers. Everyone has.'

'My scientific opinion is you've had too much to drink. Maybe you should lie down.'

'Yeah,' said Con, collapsing on the sand.