"Yes—of course, Mr. Hines. I'll get you the things," she said with apology in her eyes and voice, as if fussy celebrities had descended on her small, unsettled, and poor household.
"On the Moon you were a swell cook, Helen," Frank reminded her.
She flashed a small smile. "It was different, there. Things weighed something, and stayed in place. Here—just breathe hard and you have a kitchen accident. Besides, I had a garden. [p. 104] We'd like one here, but there's no room... And in the market..."
"Shucks—it's new here to us, too," Ramos soothed. "Riding an Archer in space, at zero-G, is different from this..."
Things were a bit less strained, after that, through the skimpy meal, with its special devices, unique to the asteroids and their tiny gravity. Clamps to fasten plates to tables and victuals to plates. Drinking vessels that were half-squeeze bottles. Such equipment was now available in what might once have been called a dime store—but with another price-level.
The visitors made a game of being awkward and inept, together. It was balm for Helen's sensitivity.
"Somebody's got to keep the camera for us, Mex," Frank Nelsen said presently.
"Yeah—I know. Les'll do it for us," Ramos answered. "He's the best, there. He can run through all the pictures—make copies with an ordinary camera... See if he can market them. Twenty percent ought to be about right for his cut."
Lester tried to interrupt, but Frank got ahead of him. "We owe Gimp for those loads we lost. Got to cut him into this, as a consultant. You'll be around Pallastown for a while, helping out with this end of the Twin's enterprises, won't you, Gimp?"
Hines grinned. "Probably. Glad you slobs got memories. Glad to be of assistance, anytime. Les is no louse—he'll help old friends. I'll bring him the camera, out of the safe at my hotel, as soon as we leave here..."