The second week in December was too windy and cold to go outside on the weekend for any but the most pressing of chores. On Sunday morning, Howard put some oak logs in the fireplace and started a fire, then relaxed with a hot cup of heavily sugared coffee while he draped his legs across the couch arm. Anita looked on at his careless treatment of her furniture with disapproval, but held her tongue. Howard didn’t take criticism well and his mood was probably to fragile to provoke with a comment on his carelessness. His rejuvenation had made him mellow and he began musing about his successes at work with Anita. When he began talking dreamily about applying for an engineering prize for his work, Anita decided it was time to put her foot down. Howard needed to be brought down to earth before he did something stupid and the roof fell in on him. Anita sat him down on the family room couch and counseled him to keep his work as quiet as possible. She pointed out that if he received publicity, the reporters would perform a background investigation as a matter of course. She reminded him that the company he was advising was engaged in illegal activities. Neither he nor the company could afford to be in the public limelight. Howard’s face fell under her savage criticism and he reluctantly began to listen to what she was saying to him. His features took on a somber appearance when he realized the import of what he had proposed. She was right. Consulting for a less-than-honest company had ramifications he hadn’t considered. He frowned and nodded in agreement with Anita’s analysis of the situation. When his current contract ended with the company, he would have to find another, more honest, company to advise. He’d be damned if his brilliance was going to be hid under a bush for his entire professional life.
He smiled and thanked Anita for reminding him about the limits under which he worked. While he was thanking her, he was thinking about arranging for more lunchtime liaisons with Barbie. As long as he had to work for the bloody bastards, he might as well enjoy the perks.
Howard’s rejuvenation ground to a slow stop over the next two months. The world changes in climate, like Howard’s physical transformation, had stalled and settled into reassuring predictability. The usual sunny skies of his Southwestern clime had seemed to have permanently retreated behind steely grey clouds in December and had not reappeared by early February. Howard’s appearance improved by gradual steps; each day the effects of time and weather were smoothed away by the slow return of youthful vigor. The lines of maturity in his craggy, collagen-deficient face were replaced with wrinkle-less, finely textured skin as his apparent age stabilized at approximately twenty-two. He moderated his coffee consumption and his urination returned to normal. He decided that smoking two packs of cigarettes a day was unwise and switched over to smoking expensive cigars instead. Howard’s gut seemed to have gotten over whatever was bothering it and his bowel habits returned to normal. Even his dandruff seemed to get better; instead of waking up in a pile of dead skin, the flaking seemed to confine itself to his scalp. His libido continued to improve, turning his almost daily noontime rendezvous with his mistress into wild adventures.