Three months later, Howard was unemployed. the layoff was a shock, but all the guys on the line, and the union brass, and management, all of them, felt sure that it would be a short term deal as Chrysler retooled to meet the Japanese import threat. Just a temporary setback, they said. But when four months had slipped by, and Howard hadn’t been called back, they started to get a little nervous.

Howard and Caroline decided to start their own business. They emptied their savings account, bought a used 1977 Dodge Tradesman 200, a new vacuum, some mops and brooms and buckets, and launched a janitorial service. They stayed up late plotting out which businesses to approach, and how much to charge per hour, or whether to offer a flat rate. They tried to join their first names into something catchy to call the business, but adding ‘C’ for Caroline to ‘-oward’ made ‘Coward’, and putting an ‘H’ for Howard onto ‘-aroline’ sounded vaguely like ‘heroin’, so they settles on ‘C & H Cleaning Service’.

Within a year, c&H had fourteen accounts, and Howard had more keys than would fit on his old UAW key ring. He got one of those retracting chain key holders and clipped it onto his belt. He put little paper labels on the keys. The labels had the names of the businesses Howard cleaned, places like ToeTyme Shoes and the Hi-Spot Bar and Barb’s Beauty Bungalow.

Caroline did the books and the billing, keeping neat handwritten accounts on green ledger sheets. Howard did the cleaning, starting with the businesses that closed earliest, and ending up at the Hi-Spot after it closed at two a.m., mopping up the cigarette butts and amalgamated cocktail residue that coated the floor and made his shoes sticky.

Howard extends his arm, stiff from supporting his head, hands the ring with the three keys up to Caroline, and says, “The meter is almost expired, too. Got any quarters?”

“No. you handle the finances now, remember?”

“Right. I handle the finances now. Doing a hell of a job, too.” Howard hears the cash-register-and-coins intro to Pink Floyd’s “Money”. He digs into his front pocket, coming up with three quarters. “Here you go.”

Caroline puts Dakota into the stroller and carefully arranges the blue blanket around the baby’s body. The child’s cheeks are red, as are Caroline’s.

“I think maybe I’ll try to nurse her in the car. Maybe she’ll sleep. It’s warmer in the car. I didn’t sleep too well on that cot last night; those shelters fell like a camp out in hell.” Caroline smiles distantly.

Howard thinks about the distance between a new Art Van bedroom set and a cot in a county homeless shelter. It’s a very long distance, he thinks, but one that can be traveled in a very short time.

“Just lock the doors. I’m going to take a walk while you rest. If you’re not awake when I get back, I’ll knock on the window and wake you up. Maybe we can splurge for dinner tonight; go to Denny’s or something.”

"Oh, Howard. We’re supposed to be saving the money. I’d rather have PB and Js if it means we can start out for my mother’s sooner.”

“We need some hot food. Something like home. Chicken-fried steak, or pork chops.” Chicken-fried steak always sounded homey to Howard, although they never made it even when they had a home.

“We’ll talk about it when you’re back from your walk. I’ll take the blanket to the car.”

Howard doesn’t move.

“Well, get off it,” Caroline says.

He rolls off the blanket, onto the cold ground. His Tigers baseball cap slips off his head, and as it lies upturned for a moment, a maple leaf parachutes from a branch above and lands in the bowl of the hat. Howard pulls the cap back on his head without noticing the leaf.

Caroline bends down and rolls up the plaid blanket, picking off the ripped leaves clinging to the bottom. she grabs the frisbee and tosses it onto Howard’s stomach. “Maybe you can find the rightful owner of this while you’re walking,” she smiles. “And be sure to thank them for waking up your daughter.” She lays the blanket over the canopy of the stroller, lifts her bag, and rolls their daughter toward the car.

He watches as this woman, his woman, reaches the Lincoln. She pauses at the parking meter, inserts the coins, and twists the handle. Taking the keys from her bag, she unlocks the passenger door, and reaches back to pull up the lock stem of the rear door. After gently laying the baby on the rear seat, she quickly opens the trunk, folds the stroller, and puzzles it into the crowded compartment. Howard has always loved to watch her body move; graceful, flexible, with a strength so unlike that of a man. She closes the trunk lid and slips into the back seat, shuts the door, and disappears below the rear window. Howard sees her hand reach up and slap the lock down. From where he’s lying, it looks as if she’s waving goodbye. Then her hand disappears, too.

The labels had the names of the businesses Howard cleaned, places like ToeTyme Shoes and the Hi-Spot Bar and Barb’s Beauty Bungalow.