Add continuity dashboard and scene authoring workflow

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-\f0\fs24 The kitchen clock read 5:47 when Ella came downstairs, her golf shoes already on her feet, bag propped against the wall by the garage door. She'd been awake since five, lying in bed listening to the mockingbirds outside her window, running through her swing in her mind the way her father had taught her to do. First weekend of summer. Thirty-six holes ahead of her. She could hardly stand it.\par
+\f0\fs24 The kitchen clock read 5:47 and Ella Hayes had been ready since five-fifteen.\par
 \par
-Her mother was at the stove, sliding eggs onto a plate without being asked, because Elikapeka Hayes always knew what her daughters needed before they knew themselves.\par
+She stood at the sliding glass door that opened onto the back patio, watching the canal. The water was black and flat under a sky just beginning to lose its darkest shade, the stars above the mangroves fading one by one like lights being switched off in a distant building. The sailboat at the dock \u8212? Jim Kowalski's enormous white fifty-footer \u8212? shifted almost imperceptibly against its lines, and the soft knock of fiberglass against the piling was the only sound in the world. Ella had her golf shoes on already, had them on for the better part of an hour, and she could feel the cleats against the kitchen tile, a solid deliberate contact that made her feel ready in the way that the shoes of a surgeon or a soldier might make them feel ready.\par
 \par
-"Sit," her mother said.\par
+Her bag was in the garage, standing up against the wall beside her father's. She had checked it twice. Fourteen clubs, a dozen golf balls because you never needed a dozen but she liked having them there, two gloves with the left hand on top, four sharpened pencils, the yardage book she'd made herself for Pompano Beach Golf Club with notations in her own small handwriting, a rain jacket rolled tight inside the side pocket even though the forecast called for nothing but clear skies and the low nineties by afternoon.\par
 \par
-Ella sat, but only on the edge of the chair.\par
+Behind her at the kitchen table, her father turned a page of the newspaper.\par
 \par
-She ate quickly, cleaned her plate, drank her orange juice in three swallows, and carried everything to the sink. It was 6:02. Their tee time was 7:24. Pompano Beach was twelve minutes away, maybe fifteen with the light on Sample Road. She wanted forty-five minutes on the range, minimum. That left them needing to leave the house no later than six-thirty, and even that was cutting it closer than she liked.\par
+She did not look at him. Looking at him would require her to say something, and she had already said enough. She had cleared her breakfast plate, rinsed it, set it in the rack, and said, "Dad, we should go." He had nodded without lifting his eyes from the sports section. She had gone to the garage to check the bags and come back and said, "Seriously, Dad, we should go." He had said, "Ella, the first tee is at seven twenty-four. We have time." And then he had reached for the coffee pot.\par
 \par
-She stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened. Upstairs, her sisters were still asleep. She could hear the particular silence of rooms full of sleeping people. And from the direction of the master bedroom she heard the low murmur of the television her father turned on every morning while he dressed, and she knew from long experience that the television was a bad sign. The television meant he was not rushing.\par
+The second cup. She had watched him pour it with the specific agony of someone watching a slow leak drain something precious away.\par
 \par
-She went back to the kitchen and sat down again, this time not even pretending to be relaxed.\par
+She turned from the door. Her father sat with his long legs stretched under the table, ankles crossed, newspaper folded to a quarter of its size the way he always did. He was still in his golf shirt and shorts and his shoes were on, at least, which was something. His bag was in the garage too, already loaded, which she had checked along with her own. But he had that cup in his hand, that white ceramic mug her mother had brought back from Oahu six years ago, and he was in no hurry at all.\par
 \par
-Her father came out of the master bedroom at 6:09 in his golf shirt and khaki shorts, his hair still damp, and went directly to the coffee maker. He poured a cup and leaned against the counter and looked out the window at the canal, where the first light was going silver and pink across the water. The sailboat in their dock shifted almost imperceptibly against its lines.\par
+Andrew Hayes was a large, unhurried man. In nearly every context Ella had observed him \u8212? at the airline, at family gatherings, on the golf course \u8212? he moved and spoke at a pace that suggested the world would wait for him. Usually Ella admired this about him. On the golf course it produced a steadiness she had tried for years to copy into her own game, that ability to stand over a four-foot putt with a two-shot lead or a two-shot deficit and feel more or less the same. Off the golf course, especially on Saturday mornings, it made her want to scream.\par
 \par
-"Morning," he said.\par
+"Bobby's going to beat us there," she said.\par
 \par
-"We need to leave before six-thirty," Ella said.\par
+Her father looked up. He had a handsome, creased face, dark from the sun, and he looked at her with the mild amusement that she found simultaneously comforting and infuriating. "Bobby lives ten minutes closer than we do."\par
 \par
-"Morning, Ella."\par
+"That's my point."\par
 \par
-She exhaled through her nose. "Good morning. We need to leave before six-thirty."\par
+"Ella." He said her name the way he sometimes said it, with a slight downward inflection, the way you'd say *easy* to a horse. "We have an hour and thirty-seven minutes before we tee off. The drive is twenty minutes. You like to warm up for forty-five minutes. That leaves\u8212?"\par
 \par
-Her father smiled at his coffee cup, and that smile\u8212?patient, unhurried, the smile of a man who had been doing this for thirty years and believed there was very little in life that required actual rushing\u8212?made her want to tip the cup out of his hand.\par
+"I like to warm up for an hour."\par
 \par
-"Bobby's probably already there," she said.\par
+He looked at her over the top of his reading glasses, which he'd recently started wearing and which she'd recently started resenting because they made him look settled. "Since when."\par
 \par
-"Bobby can wait."\par
+"Since this summer. I've been working on the range every morning this week and an hour is what I need." She pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, not because she wanted to sit but because standing and looking at him while he sat made her feel like she was waiting to be seen by a doctor. "If we leave now we have exactly enough time."\par
 \par
-"Bobby doesn't like to wait. Neither do I."\par
+He folded the newspaper and set it on the table and picked up the mug.\par
 \par
-"Then Bobby and you are well matched." He sipped his coffee. "Your mother made eggs?"\par
+She watched the mug.\par
 \par
-"There's some in the pan. Dad. We need a good warm-up. I need a good warm-up. You can hit six balls and walk to the first tee, but I need time on the range."\par
+He drank.\par
 \par
-"You'll have time on the range."\par
+"Dad."\par
 \par
-"Not if we leave at seven."\par
+"It's hot." He set the mug down. "I can't drink it fast when it's hot."\par
 \par
-"I didn't say we were leaving at seven."\par
+"Then you shouldn't have poured a second cup."\par
 \par
-"You're on your first cup."\par
+He smiled. It was not a chastened smile. It was the smile of a man who understood perfectly well that he was being unreasonable and had made his peace with that. Ella had seen the smile ten thousand times and it still got to her, the way an old joke can still be funny even after you know the punchline by heart.\par
 \par
-He looked at her over the rim of the mug. "This is my second cup."\par
+From upstairs came the faint sound of one of her sisters shifting in a bed, a creak of springs, then silence. The rest of the house was asleep. Her mother had gotten up before five to make breakfast \u8212? eggs and toast and sliced fruit, the same breakfast as every Saturday \u8212? and had gone back to bed with a kind and unhurried efficiency that reminded Ella, not for the first time, that her mother and father were profoundly well-matched in a way that had almost nothing to do with her. Her mother understood her father completely and found him largely sufficient. This was admirable. It was also no help to Ella at ten to six on a Saturday morning.\par
 \par
-She stood up from the table and walked to her golf bag and crouched down and unzipped the front pocket and took out her glove and put it on and took it back off again. She had no reason to do this. She did it anyway.\par
+She stood up again and went to the glass door again.\par
 \par
-Behind her she heard the scrape of a skillet, her mother serving her father his eggs, and then the soft sound of them exchanging some words she couldn't quite make out, and her mother's quiet laugh, and the terrible, leisurely normalcy of it all. It was 6:14.\par
+The canal had taken on a thin pewter color. The stars were entirely gone now. Somewhere out on the water something jumped, a mullet probably, and there was a brief silvery splash and then the flatness again. Down the canal, in the direction of the Intracoastal, a heron stood on someone's dock with the motionless concentration of a professional. Ella felt a brief abstract kinship with it.\par
 \par
-She went out the back door and stood beside the pool. The water was still and dark blue in the early light, and the neighbor's bougainvillea spilled over the fence in a great cascade of orange-pink that was almost violent in its color. She breathed in the morning air, which smelled like canal water and cut grass and the faint diesel memory of some boat that had gone out before dawn. She tried to think about her swing. She'd been working on keeping her right elbow closer to her body on the downswing, something her father had shown her three weeks ago at the range, and she'd had it and then she'd lost it and she wanted to find it again before she was standing over a shot on the first hole.\par
+She thought about the range. She thought about the sequence of the session \u8212? wedges first, short irons, then the middle irons, then the hybrids, then driver last, but not too many drivers because this course didn't ask for driver very often. She thought about the thing she'd been working on with her ball position, moving it back a half inch with the seven iron, the way it was cleaning up that occasional thin strike she'd been getting on courses with firm fairways. She wanted to hit at least thirty seven irons before they walked to the first tee.\par
 \par
-The door opened behind her.\par
+"You know," her father said behind her, "when I was coming up, you hit six balls on the range and if the six balls went more or less where you were pointing you went and played."\par
 \par
-"Five minutes," her father said.\par
+"That's why I'm better than you."\par
 \par
-She turned. He was carrying his coffee cup. Still.\par
+A pause. She did not turn around.\par
 \par
-"You're bringing that?"\par
+"That might be the most disrespectful thing you've ever said to me," he said.\par
 \par
-"I'm finishing it."\par
+"You know I'm right."\par
 \par
-"In the truck."\par
+Another pause. Longer this time.\par
 \par
-"In the truck," he agreed, and something in his tone told her he'd been planning to leave at six-thirty all along and had simply declined to tell her, because he found her impatience amusing and saw no reason to relieve it prematurely. This was, she knew, a form of love. It did not feel like one.\par
+"I'm going to finish my coffee," he said.\par
 \par
-She picked up her bag and went through the house to the garage without waiting for him.\par
+"Obviously."\par
 \par
----\par
+But when she finally turned around she caught something in his expression before he recovered it, a flicker of something that was not amusement and not offense. Something closer to pride. He looked down at the mug and she looked at the side of his face for a moment, his jaw, the gray that had started at his temples in the last year, and she felt the particular complicated love of a daughter who has been taught by her father to be difficult and precise and uncompromising and who is now deploying those qualities directly against him.\par
 \par
-They drove north on Federal Highway with the windows down, her father's coffee cup sitting in the holder between them, still half full. The morning was already warm the way South Florida mornings were in late May, the air thick and sweetly humid, and the palm trees along the road were motionless in the stillness before the sea breeze came up. Ella sat with her left knee bouncing and her arm out the window.\par
+"Five minutes," he said.\par
 \par
-"You need to stop rushing the range," her father said.\par
+"Two."\par
 \par
-"I don't rush the range."\par
+"Ella."\par
 \par
-"You rush the range. You go too fast and you don't let the feelings settle. You hit twelve balls when you should hit eight."\par
+"You've had two cups. There's nothing left in there worth saving."\par
 \par
-"Bobby hits fifty balls."\par
+He looked into the mug. He looked at her. He pushed his chair back with his foot and stood up, all six feet two inches of him, unhurried as ever, and carried the mug to the sink, rinsed it, set it down.\par
 \par
-"Bobby's habits are Bobby's business."\par
+"Get your bag," he said.\par
 \par
-She looked out the window. A sprinkler system was running in the parking lot of a strip mall, arching water across the empty asphalt for no apparent reason. "I just want to be ready," she said.\par
+She was already through the door to the garage.\par
 \par
-"You're already ready. You've been ready since you woke up." He glanced at her. "Probably since last night."\par
+The sky outside the garage door, when her father lifted it, was a deep and luminous blue-gray, the color the sky is for only a few minutes in the summer before the light begins its real work. The air smelled like water and cut grass from somewhere down the block. Ella slung her bag onto her shoulder and felt the weight of it settle and felt the cleats of her shoes on the driveway and felt the whole long useful day opening in front of her like a fairway.\par
 \par
-She didn't say anything.\par
-\par
-"How long have we been doing this?" he said.\par
-\par
-"Since I was six."\par
-\par
-"And have I ever not gotten you to the course in time for a proper warm-up?"\par
-\par
-She thought about it longer than he deserved to wait. "No."\par
-\par
-"Okay then."\par
-\par
-She let her knee stop bouncing. He reached over without looking and turned on the radio, and they drove the rest of the way with the windows down and the warm air coming in and a country station playing low enough that it was almost just texture rather than sound.\par
-\par
----\par
-\par
-The parking lot at Pompano Beach Golf Course was mostly empty when they pulled in, only a handful of cars clustered near the clubhouse entrance. Ella had her door open before the truck stopped rolling, which earned her a single patient look from her father that she ignored. She shouldered her bag and walked fast toward the entrance, her spikes clicking on the asphalt.\par
-\par
-Through the glass door she could see Bobby Carpenter already inside, sitting on the bench beside the pro shop counter with his arms folded, his own bag leaning against the wall beside him. He was wearing a Pompano Beach Golf hat and a green shirt, and when he saw her come through the door he made a show of checking his watch.\par
-\par
-"Six-forty-five," he said. "I've been here since six-forty."\par
-\par
-"Then you've had five minutes to contemplate your many swing flaws," Ella said, going directly to the counter.\par
-\par
-"My swing flaws." Bobby unfolded his arms and stood up. "You're the one who started blocking it right under pressure last month. What was that on sixteen at the district qualifier?"\par
-\par
-"That was the wind." She slid her father's credit card across the counter to the young man working the register. "Two, on the Pines. Hayes."\par
-\par
-"That was not the wind," Bobby said. "There was no wind."\par
-\par
-"There was some wind."\par
-\par
-"There was no wind, Ella."\par
-\par
-"Good morning to you too, Bobby," her father said, coming through the door behind her, carrying nothing, having left both his golf bag and his apparently now-finished coffee in the truck.\par
-\par
-Bobby grinned and shook Andy's hand. "Morning, Mr. Hayes. I've been telling Ella I've been here since six-forty."\par
-\par
-"I know," her father said. "She mentioned it."\par
-\par
-"I didn't mention it," Ella said, signing the receipt and taking the card back. "I acknowledged it. There's a difference." She picked up her scorecard from the counter and turned toward the door that led to the range. "We have nineteen minutes. I'm going to go use them."\par
-\par
-Her father looked at Bobby and Bobby looked at her father and some small communication passed between them that she caught only from the corner of her eye and chose to ignore entirely.\par
-\par
-She pushed through the door into the morning light, already thinking about her elbow.
+"Let's go," she said, not unkindly, and she walked to the truck.
 }