From the living room below, Caydance heard the familiar summer sound of baseball on the radio. Remembering how Griff heard her whisper his name from the balcony, three years ago when at a Museum opening, he showed up in pursuit of her, she wound up the music box; walked to the balcony rail of her studio loft. When the enchanting music box sound began, he looked up, pointed invitingly to the beer beside him, and then to the kitchen refrigerator. "Soon", she replied.

Striding powerfully across the landscape, the second miniature on the music box base was the solitary "land girl". Transferred in mind to the before-she-was born World War II front, Caydance succumbed to the historical romance that the image suggested. If, as she surmised, from the Italian mountain battlefields where the 10th was sent, an Army skier sent his farm worker girlfriend the centuries old Book of Hours, Caydance needed to identify the soldier and/or the land girl. Locating the soldier seemed the most promising because her father had worked procuring equipment for the 10th Mountain Division. A question to his friends from that era -- "Do you know of a soldier whose girlfriend was a land girl?" -- had more potential than locating one woman among the 1.5 million women who worked the farms during WW2.