by Nancy Star
Tim didn’t need time to mull it over. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t particularly like my brother. He’s not a nice person. But he’s my brother. I can’t push him out.”
“No pushing necessary. He’s going. That’s not up for discussion.”
“Why don’t you run the business?” Annie asked.
“It’s not my thing,” Trissy said. “Believe me, if it was, I would have stepped in long ago. Besides, I’m too busy. Daddy put Hank in charge of Hot Holidays, but he put me in charge of the rest of his portfolio. I’m not trying to boast, but do you think we’d still be living in this house if we had to live off Hank’s mismanagement skills?”
“You’re not doing a very good job of selling us your business plan,” Annie pointed out.
“My brother’s moving where?” Tim was having trouble absorbing the facts.
“Tortola,” Trissy said. “And the business is going to be fine. It’s been mismanaged, that’s true. But I convinced Hank to hire you, Tim, because you have the goods to turn it around. Unfortunately once you got there, Hank wouldn’t listen to you.”
“That’s nothing new,” Tim said.
“Well, now that problem has been eliminated. Hank is leaving the scene of the crime.” Trissy turned to Annie. “You are the hardest-working person I know. And transition is your thing. This is perfect for you. And, Tim, you are a brilliant numbers guy. If Hank had listened to me, you’d have been running the place for years. Believe me, Hank is out either way. Whether you fire him or I fire him makes no difference.”
“I can’t fire him,” Tim said. “But don’t take it personally. I can’t fire anyone. It’s a problem.”
“My father was the same way.” Trissy smiled at the memory. “He never fired an employee in his life. That’s why they loved him so much. He was incredibly loyal.”
“Hey, baby brother and sister-in-law of my dreams,” Hank said, barreling into the room with an armload of grocery bags filled with bottles of twenty-five-year-old scotch and fifty-year-old port. “It’s a goddamn nightmare out there. Storm of the Century, part two.”
He put the bag down on the buffet and took off his drenched leather jacket. Then he noticed the mood.
“Trissy.” Hank was peeved. “I wanted to tell them.”
Trissy gave him a tough-luck look.
“I don’t know what the hell she told you,” Hank said. “But I’m sure she managed to make me out to be an asshole.”
Trissy laughed. “That part comes across without any help from me at all.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Hank told Annie, as if she were the conscience of the group. “I’m a very faithful man. But sometimes nature takes over.”
“What are you, an orangutan?” Trissy asked. “You don’t have a brain? You don’t have the ability to choose?”
“How about if we try not to judge me for a change?” Hank said. “How about we try it for just sixty seconds?”
“Poor you,” Trissy said. “You want to come out of this with everyone thinking you’re a hero just because you finally admitted you’ve been lying to me for years.”
“I’m going to do the right thing,” Hank told Tim. “Moving to Tortola is really going to help the business grow. You’ll see.”
“He won’t see,” Trissy said. “No one is going to see. You can flush that idea right down the toilet where it and you belong.”
“See what I’m up against?” Hank said to Tim. “See what I’ve been living with? Do you have any idea what it’s like? On second thought, maybe you do.”
“You’re being an idiot, Hank,” Tim said.
“I’m being an idiot? Oh, sorry. I forgot. I’m talking to Perfect Boy. But wait a minute—I hear everything is not so perfect anymore. I hear you’re having a little work problem.”
“Don’t bring me into this,” Tim said.
“Why not? What’s wrong? Is it because Annie doesn’t know? Hey, Annie? Did you know Perfect Boy here is having a little work problem? My sources tell me Timmy gets a little freaked out whenever he tries to fire people. Why is that, Timmy? Huh? Are you worried people won’t like you? That must be hard. Because you’re supposed to be the one everyone likes, right?”
“You should stop talking now,” Annie said.
“Awh, Annie. You don’t like what I’m saying, either? Well, guess what? I don’t give a crap. Because at the end of the day, you’re just like Trissy. I mean, who are you to judge? Really, what the hell is your problem anyway? What’s the rush? Where’s the fire? I never saw anyone running so fast to nowhere in my life.”
Tim sighed, stood up and walked over to the buffet, to the large platter of doughnuts. They were chocolate with vanilla frosting, his brother’s favorite.
“Hank,” Tim said. “Why don’t we grab some doughnuts and go sit down somewhere.”
“Great idea,” Hank said. “The air in here is getting unbearably self-righteous.”
Tim put three doughnuts on a plate. “Is there somewhere private we can go?”
“Sure, Timmo. Follow me.” Hank turned and led his brother to his study.
A clap of thunder exploded directly overhead.
Forty-six
Don’t feel bad for me,” Trissy said. “This really is going to be for the best.”
She walked over to the buffet and picked up a platter of sandwiches. “I’m going downstairs to see if the kids want food. They don’t know,” she added.
Annie nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Trissy took a breath and composed herself. Then she plastered a smile on her face and breezed out of the room.
Annie heard something vibrate. It was a phone. It was her phone. She found her purse and fished it out just in time.
“I’m calling to let everyone know practice is on,” Winslow said, instead of hello.
“There’s a huge thunderstorm going on,” Annie said. “You don’t want the girls to practice in the middle of a thunderstorm, do you?”
“I haven’t heard any thunder,” Winslow insisted.
“You might not have heard it,” Annie said. “But it’s happening.”
“Maybe it is thundering where you are. But it is not thundering where I am. And we have no idea if it is thundering where we’re going to be, do we? It’s always thundering somewhere. So all we can really do is to make our decision based on what is actually happening where we are.”
“I will not allow Charlotte to practice in a thunderstorm,” Annie said.
“Perhaps you didn’t get a chance to read my bulletin on this. The league policy is quite clear. All games and practices are canceled immediately at the second flash.”
There was another rumble.
“Did you hear that?” Annie asked.
“Perhaps I am not speaking in a language you understand. Let me try again. Any player who is not on the field when practice begins will be assumed to have resigned from the team. Is that clear enough?” Winslow hung up the phone.
Annie walked to the top of the stairs that led down to the entertainment wing. “Charlotte?” she called. “Can I talk to you?”
Charlotte came upstairs. “Yes?”
The house turned bright with another flash of lightning. A second later a huge clap of thunder exploded.
“You’re off the team,” Annie said.
“Winslow dropped me?”
“No,” Annie said. “I’m pulling you off.”
“But you and Dad don’t like quitters. If you pull me off the team, will you think I’m a quitter?”
“No,” Annie said. “If you leave the team, I’ll think you’re a winner.”
Charlotte’s forehead remained furrowed. “Is it because I’m not good enough?”
“Absolutely not,” Annie said. “It has nothing to do with that. You’re as good as it gets.”
“Because I can work harder. I haven’t been practicing that much at home. But I can. I should.”
“Charlotte, have you had any fun on the Power?” Annie asked. “Be honest.”
Charlotte shrugged. “The girls are really nice. But it’s not fun.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Winslow said we aren’t playing at our level. He says we need more discipline. And our skills aren’t as good as they should be. And our conditioning is terrible. And our attitude isn’t right. We don’t have enough commitment. And we aren’t hungry enough to do the work to win.”
“It’s not supposed to be like that,” Annie said. “You’re twelve years old. It’s supposed to be fun.”
Hank stormed into the room. “I cannot believe this,” he said to Annie. “Did you know your nutso husband just tried to fire me? Is he out of his mind? He can’t fire me. He works for me.”
Trissy was right behind him. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you. Tim works for me now.”
Tim came in last, just as another lightning bolt struck. A clap of thunder followed a second behind. The storm was now directly overhead.
“Daddy, what would you think if I quit my soccer team?” Charlotte asked. She still wasn’t sure it was okay.
Tim’s face exploded into a smile. “I would think, without question, that is the very best news I’ve heard all day.”
“I get it now,” Hank said. “You’re all a bunch of losers and you deserve each other.”
“Hank, honey,” Trissy said. “Would you mind taking the next lightning bolt to hell?”
“Need any help carrying out your things?” Tim asked.
If Hank heard the offer he didn’t say. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the house. The next flash of lightning illuminated his hunched departure.
Forty-seven
Winslow opened the van door. “No, I will not cancel.”
Vicki started to speak, but Winslow cut her off.
“Do not say another word. I will not have this discussion with my wife. We practice in the rain.”
He slammed the van door. The rain pelted him with hard drops. For a moment he thought it was hail. No. It could not be hail. He would not let it be hail. He pulled up the hood of his slicker, opened the back door of the van, yanked out the large net ball bag, and threw it over his shoulder.
“Dinah,” he called. “Get out.”
He could hear the muffled noise of Vicki telling Dinah not to go. Then the passenger door glided open. Dinah climbed out, leaving her crutch behind.
Vicki ran after her. She shoved a Winslow West Soccer-Plex baseball cap on Dinah’s head. “It’s hailing,” she yelled at Winslow. “Are you insane?”
“Dinah, get the cones.”
Dinah leaned on the van as she made her way to the back. Keeping her weight on her good foot, she lifted out the tall stack of orange cones.
“This is ridiculous,” Vicki screamed.
“We do not cancel practice because of rain,” Winslow screamed back.
The wind whipped up, blowing Dinah’s cap off. Dinah put down the cones to run after it.
“Forget your hat,” Winslow yelled. “Let’s go.” He lurched forward, toward the field.
Drenched, Dinah hopped behind him.
Shelby was already there. So was Mary Ann Hunter, with her father. She clung close to him, trying to stay beneath his small umbrella.
“It was hailing a minute ago,” her father said.
“And there were glaciers in New Jersey in the ice age. But there are no glaciers here now, are there?”
“They’re talking about thunderstorms all afternoon,” Mary Ann’s father told him.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to deal with the future when it arrives.”
A figure ran up the hill. Winslow turned to see who it was. “Bailey,” he said, cheering up a bit. “Where is your slicker? Saving it for a sunny day?”
“I forgot it,” Bailey said.
Winslow smiled. Now there was a little trooper.
They heard a distant rumble
“What was that?” Mary Ann asked.
Winslow walked away and started setting up the cones.
Another rumble followed, distant but distinct.
“Winslow,” Mary Ann’s father called over. “What do you say we cancel?”
Winslow struggled to ignore the use of the pronoun we and continued setting up the cones in perfect lines.
At the third rumble, Dinah hopped over to him to tell him that Mary Ann was crying.
He glanced over at the irritating sight of the whimpering child.
“I’m taking her home,” the father said.
“She is not dismissed,” Winslow said. “No one is dismissed.” He shouted to be heard over the thunder. “No one is to leave until she is officially dismissed.”
Winslow glanced up at the sky, rain streaking down his face. There was no flash of lightning. There was no reason practice shouldn’t go on.
A bright blue Gortex track suit ran toward him. Barbie waved her arms, calling for Bailey.
“Tell your mother practice is not canceled,” Winslow said. “Tell her the thunder is still miles away.”
Bailey ran to tell her mother.
Another mother approached, her tan poncho plastered to her body. The poncho waved its arms wildly. The mother inside sounded hysterical as she screamed something half audible about running off the field.
Winslow yelled, to be sure he would be heard. “You idiot! This is a soccer practice, not a picnic. Look up. Do you see any lightning? Or are you so stupid that you don’t know where to look?”
The poncho marched closer, close enough so he could hear the voice. “Dinah, get over here now.”
“Vicki. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”
“Dinah,” Vicki yelled. Her cheeks were wet, and red as her hair. “Get in the car now.”
“Vicki. Practice is not canceled.”
“Yes it is. Dinah!” she shouted, and motioned for her daughter to come.
Dinah made her way as fast as she could. Vicki hustled them to the parking lot. Bailey and Shelby ran alongside. When they caught up to Barbie, she ran with them too.
“Practice is not canceled,” Winslow raged into the wind as he watched them all disappear.
The first bolt of lightning struck as he stood alone, at the top of the rise. He had no memory of what happened next.
When he opened his eyes, he was on his back on a gurney listening to a nurse explain to an aide how a bolt of lightning had hit the ground and bounced up through someone’s foot.
The nurse noticed he was awake, and asked him to tell her his name.
“Don’t you know who I am?” Winslow asked.
“That’s good,” she said. “At least he can talk.”
His left foot was wrapped in a bandage, and even though he was groggy from the painkillers they’d given him, he could still make out a distinct throbbing.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You’re very lucky,” the nurse said. “All you did was lose a toe. Your little toe. That’s all you’re missing. Are you a lucky man or what?”
But he was already gone, passed out in a dream, where he remained for the next twenty-seven hours.
Forty-eight
As far as Roy knew, his only crime was being late for dinner. He stared at the brick of food on the plate in front of him. He knew it was meat loaf, from the shape. But even though he picked at it from every angle, his fork couldn’t penetrate.
He saw the pile of papers on the table. Of course Maura would pretend she’d just forgotten to put them away—a dozen computer print-outs of homes in Chestnut Heights, Sandy Creek, and Grover, and estimates from four different movers.
Maura slammed the cabinet door shut to get his attention. “Gerri Picker called,” she snapped. “What the hell does she want?”
Roy shrugged. “Maybe she finally got the call from Winslow saying he was moving Nadine up to his team.”
“You are hopeless,” Maura said. She turned on the garbage disposal.
Roy didn’t know what was in the pipes but it sounded like teeth being ground to dust. He took
advantage of the noise and went to the refrigerator. He pulled a piece of cheese off an antipasto plate she’d put together and forgotten to throw at him.
She swung around. “What are you doing?”
He gulped the cheese. “I’m going to call Gerri.”
“While you’re on the phone, why don’t you tell her I said she can go to hell.”
Roy escaped to the family room, where the TV was playing to no one. He turned it off and dialed.
“Thanks for getting back to me, Roy,” Gerri said.
“No problem. What’s up? Did Winslow call you about Nadine?”
“It’s not about Nadine. I’m calling because I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?”
“I need to find a new coach for the Asteroids,” Gerri said. “I’m stepping down. You’d make a great coach, Roy. I really hope you’ll agree to do this.”
“Me? I can’t. I’m pretty sure Nadine is not going to be on the team that much longer. You should ask someone else. Like Peggy Ann. She would do it. Why are you stepping down anyway?”
“Peggy Ann can’t do it, either. Peggy Ann and I are going to be Power parents.”
“What?”
“I know. I was surprised too,” Gerri said. “Winslow called me as soon as he got home from the hospital. You heard about his toe, right?”
It happened now and then. Roy got a feeling of unreality, like he wasn’t really there—like he was high up in the sky, watching a movie about someone who looked exactly liked him, a movie that didn’t make any sense.
“Roy?” Gerri said.
He crashed back to earth. “What?”
“Did you hear about Winslow’s toe?”
“What did you say about you and Peggy Ann?” Roy asked.
“I know players don’t normally move this late in the season. But a couple of kids left the Power unexpectedly.” Gerri lowered her voice. “I don’t actually know if they left voluntarily, or if they were asked to leave. All I know is Winslow called and asked if Meredith could join the team. And he called Peggy Ann too. I hate to do this to the Asteroids, taking away two of their best players and their coach, but it’s an emergency. Winslow’s got the Power playing in the big exhibition game at the opening of the Soccer-Plex. And Meredith’s wanted to be on his team forever. You can understand, right? I couldn’t say no.”