by Robyn Carr
He was behind the bar; she was sitting up on a stool facing him. He poured her a glass of wine while Landon bustled his dishes back to the kitchen.
“I had a beer with Mac and Coach Rayborough this afternoon. The coach—he’s worn down by all the trouble last year, by the fact that he had a player in trouble and missed all the signals. I think he’s just worn out, to tell you the truth. He’s getting on in years and the kids kind of—”
“Cooper!”
He leaned on the bar. “He’s going to retire, Sarah,” he said. “It’s not public yet, but he hopes there will be a new coach in place by the end of summer and he was real honest—he’s too tired for this. A new coach could be inexperienced and young. Rayborough could assist, but he’d rather just move on. He suggested that you and Landon might consider other schools, even private schools, where Landon could get the most and the best—”
He stopped when Sarah closed her eyes, tilted her head back and her lips took on that twisted, tortured look of someone who was fighting tears. She lost the fight, of course—a couple of big ones escaped and she wiped at them furiously.
“Baby?” he asked in a whisper.
“God, could the kid catch a break?” she whispered back. “Just when he’s weathered some of his toughest days, the winning coach who’s going to bring him out as quarterback for his senior year, showcase him and set him up for a scholarship…”
“It’s not the only game in town, Sarah. Plus there’s scholarship and grant money out there—there are good loans at the moment. And hell, I’d help. You know I’d…”
She just shook her head. “Napkin?” she asked. He handed her one and she blew her nose. Then she fanned her face with her fingers. And then Landon was back from the bar.
Landon had taken off his apron and had his backpack over on shoulder. “Need anything else, Cooper?”
“Yeah, just one more thing. I have some news to pass along. I’m glad your sister is here because I said I’d tell her, too.” Then he went through the details, the suggested options, the challenges and possible changes. “The coach said if you have a lot riding on this season, you should at least consider other schools….”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, shaking his head. Then he looked at his sister. “Not unless we have to, but God I hope we don’t have to.”
“Landon, if you don’t have a good coach or a solid team, it could really affect your ability to get noticed, to get help with tuition….”
“Then I’ll borrow money. Hey, maybe I’ll go Coast Guard or Army or something. But if I don’t have to, I’m not leaving town. We have a good team—we have a good little town. I have friends here. There’s Eve…” Then he looked at Cooper. “Is Coach all right?”
“He’s okay, Landon. He’s been coaching forty years now—he’s a little worn out. Last year was a bad year for him—he took things with Jag real personally. He said he’ll hang close to help the new coach. He said if you don’t consider your options, you’re going to have one helluva load on your shoulders. Teammates will expect a lot from you. He also said to call him if you want to talk about it, but he asked me to tell you because we’re…” He stopped for a minute. Then he shrugged. “Because we’re friends and I never miss a game.” He smiled.
“Does Eve know?” he asked.
Cooper nodded. “Mac’s going to tell her, but listen—it’s not official. You can talk to Eve, but you have to sit on this for a little while, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll talk to Eve. Then I’ll call Coach. It’s okay. I bet he doesn’t go anywhere. I’m not going to freak out. We have a good team. I know that. I know it.” Then he looked at Sarah. “I’ll leave you the Razor to take home. I need the walk. And the think.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“I think I’d rather not talk about it yet. But it’s okay. Really, it’s going to be okay.”
*
When Carrie asked her closest friend, Lou McCain, if she could help cater the Downys’ anniversary party, Lou smiled. “I’d much rather serve than attend as a guest.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carrie said. “Of course, if you’ve been invited, you have to go! I’ll find someone else.”
“Don’t be silly. I want to serve. That noodle-head Marjorie sent an invitation to me and another to Mac—both said no additional guests. She knows perfectly well that Mac and Gina are a couple. Does she think Mac wants to go with his old-maid aunt? I think she’s getting a little too big for her britches.”
“She hasn’t been very nice to Gina,” Carrie said.
“Because she’s a fool. People around here would much rather spend time with Gina than Marjorie. If she had a brain, she’d suck up to Gina.”
“Is Mac going to go?”
Lou gave a laugh. “Well, he’s a public servant. He doesn’t discriminate, so he tries to be everyone’s friend, especially in the good times. He’s going to stop by, in uniform, drink a cup of coffee and run for his life.”
“If you’re sure,” Carrie said.
“I’m sure.”
“I just need one more person,” Carrie said. “I wonder if Sylvia—”
“Ray Anne,” Lou said. “Let’s ask Ray Anne.”
Carrie scowled and lifted one eyebrow. “Ray Anne? She’s never helped me. Ever.”
“I’ll show her what to do.”
“You hate her!”
“We have a little truce going. I had a drink with her when I was banned from the house so Cee Jay could see the kids. We may not like each other but we have a very nice understanding. Sort of.”
“Right,” Carrie said with a laugh. “And how long will that last?”
“We’re good. It’ll be fine. She can wear her satin, low-cut, supershort waitress uniform with the seven-inch heels.”
“What if you squabble and snipe at each other?”
“I’ll pass that by her, tell her you’re worried about that,” Lou said.
“You talk to her?”
“We’ve had the occasional glass of wine, nothing big. So?”
Carrie narrowed her eyes. “If you start to bicker, I’m going to hurt you.”
Lou laughed.
“You’re an invited guest,” Carrie said. “I don’t feel right about this.”
Lou laughed again. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll hit the next twentieth anniversary party in a couple of years.”
Carrie gasped. “I didn’t say anything about that!”
“Did you think I didn’t know? She’s been fudging that for a long time now. Everyone knows. So what? She got caught. It’s been known to happen.”
“But you’ve only lived here four years! I’ve been here since before they moved to Thunder Point!”
“Carrie, everyone knows. See, here’s the lesson—if you have secrets to keep, at least be nice so people feel like helping you keep them. Marjorie has been a pain in the ass because she thinks she’s going to buy the world with her son’s future in pro baseball.” Then she reflected, looking up. “The kid is amazing. I bet he’s going to kill ’em with that arm.” Then she grew serious. “Marjorie should remember, it’s not her arm.”
“Well, much as I’d love to give her a large piece of my mind, I have a business to run and my only goal for this party is that it be perfect. If I were rich or even more comfortable financially, I wouldn’t have taken the job, even though she asked me before Downy and Ashley broke up. The truth is, in a town of fifteen hundred, I can’t afford to be too picky about catering contracts. I have a reputation to uphold—I won’t shortchange a customer because I don’t personally like them. If you’re not on board with that—”
“I’m on board, I’m on board,” Lou said. She reached out and put a comforting hand on Carrie’s forearm. “You’re my closest friend. Even though I pretty much want to shove Marjorie and her precious son in a hole right now, no one will ever know it!”
*
Carrie put out a beautiful spread and her presentation was, as always, fetching—a long buffet and ref
reshment table garnished with roses and baby’s breath that she drove all the way to her favorite nursery east of Bandon to buy. She served crab and salmon canapés, deviled eggs garnished with caviar, though not the most expensive brand, tapenade on small toast rounds, stuffed grape leaves, hot artichoke dip with thin sliced baguette, bite-size beef burgundy and a variety of relishes. There was also a beautiful white cake that said Happy Anniversary in silver frosting. She brought her champagne flutes for a toast and set up a wine bar at the end of the dining room. And Marjorie looked very nice in a new dress for the occasion.
Her husband, Crawford Senior, who everyone called Ford, had other ideas about the party. He ran some Christmas lights between the trees in the backyard and put out a couple of coolers of beer along with a bowl of chips and salsa on the picnic table. It seemed most of the guests, especially the men, preferred to be out there. Many of them loaded up on hors d’oeuvres and took their plates outside to mix them up with chips and beer. The women appreciated the wine bar and fancy nibbles, content to sit around the living room, gossiping. Nothing Marjorie could do would coax the men inside.
Downy brought his new girlfriend, a beautiful and tiny young thing dressed for sex with a very short skirt, high shoes, see-through blouse not covering her purple bra. Her long black hair was loose and flowing and she was stuck to Downy like lint. They pawed each other and drank too much beer, although they were underage and everyone knew it, so when the deputy showed up, Ford told them to go hide in one of the bedrooms. Not ten minutes later there was a scream. One of the women at the party went looking for her purse, opened the bedroom door and found them stark naked, in flagrante.
Carrie had a helluva time rounding everyone up for a champagne toast after that but managed to convince Ford to do this one thing for his wife. Carrie, though not exactly commissioned to do so, took as many pictures of them toasting and cutting the cake as she could grab.
Then Ford was back outside with a box of cigars.
By eleven Carrie, Lou and Ray Anne had cleaned up, put the rest of the hors d’oeuvres on disposable but attractive plastic plates, washed out the chafing dishes and serving utensils and loaded everything in Carrie’s van. Carrie told Marjorie good-night and Marjorie said, “Thank you, Carrie. I think it went very well.” And Carrie wondered if the woman was being brave or delusional.
Once in the van she said, “I need a glass of wine.”
“I could use something stronger,” Lou said. “I’m completely exhausted.”
“Not at my house, where Gina and Ashley will probably be waiting for a report. Not at your house, where Eve will be listening and will report to Ashley.” They both looked at Ray Anne.
“All right,” she said. “All right. My house.”
There was no talking in the van as Carrie drove them to Ray Anne’s little bungalow on the hill, just ten blocks from the Downys’. Like everything in Thunder Point, it was close. It was only five minutes to get there and eight minutes before Ray Anne was opening a cold white and pouring it into three glasses. They sat in the living room, kicking off their shoes. They sipped their wine and just sat quiet for a moment.
“I’ve seen it a hundred times,” Carrie finally said. “It’s the hardest part about this work—people with huge expectations are always disappointed.”
“I like Ford, but he’s an ass,” Ray Anne said.
“Well, I can’t stand Marjorie, but I think I feel sorry for her,” Lou said.
“It gets to the point that when you have an event that didn’t disappoint, you want to give a discount,” Carrie said, rubbing her foot. “The worst is when a young bride doesn’t get the reception she always dreamed of. It’s rarely about the venue or the food, but usually some relative or guest with bad manners.”
“I bet you don’t often see renegade fucking at wedding receptions,” Ray Anne said.
“That’s where you see it the most,” Carrie said.
“Really? I thought that was just me….”
“No, there’s something about a wedding that makes people amorous. And reckless. But I have to say, I’ve never seen it happen at an anniversary party. By the son of the couple. In their bedroom. In the middle of the party.”
“Coolers of beer and cigars…I bet Marjorie wanted to die. Here she was all dressed up and Ford’s wearing his Seattle Mariners cap.”
“Yeah, I bet that dress cost her forty bucks,” Ray Anne said meanly.
“Get it out of your system,” Carrie said. “Because you are not to gossip about this! To anyone!”
“I didn’t sign a confidentiality agreement,” Lou said. “Besides, everyone is going to be talking about it. Especially Pat, who got a close-up of Downy’s naked ass.” She took a sip of her wine. “And all you did was pull the door closed!”
“It was that or throw a bucket of cold water on him,” Carrie said. “I know he broke my baby’s heart, but I’m glad she’s moving on. Hopefully to someone with some manners. If not class. Jeez.”
And then the three of them looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter until they were crying and couldn’t sit up straight.
*
Frank knocked on Ashley’s door at nine-thirty. Gina answered, looking surprised. “Frank!”
“Hi. Is Ashley home?”
“Um, yes. I think she’s plugged into her iPod. Or on the phone. I’ll check. Come on in.”
He stepped inside while Gina went down the hall and tapped on Ashley’s bedroom door. When she came out, wearing a perplexed frown, her iPod earbuds were dangling over her shoulders. And Gina went in a different direction, leaving them alone.
He smiled and said, “Hi.”
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your parents’ party?”
“I stayed for the toast and the cake cutting. That’s long enough. I’m sure they’ll think I’m in my room or something.”
“But what are you doing?”
“I’m going to the beach to look for stars and constellations and meteors. It’s clear and cool.” He half turned, showing her his backpack. “I have a log and a couple of drinks.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Frank. I mean, it’s nice of you, but I am managing not to feel like total toe jelly knowing Downy’s in town with his girlfriend.”
“Well, good. So, the internet says there could be a mild meteor shower tonight. And I did this, as you say, because no one else would be interested. And the party is not for me. My mom is semihappy—my dad gave her a necklace. And now he’s getting hammered with some of his buddies on the patio. So—”
“Getting hammered? I thought it was a fancy party!”
“That is fancy for my dad. He put out two coolers full of beer.” Frank grinned.
“What if someone’s looking for you?”
“I left a note on my computer—gone to the beach to look at stars. I’ve done it before. They won’t worry.”
She sighed. “I’ll sit on the steps with you for a little while, but I don’t want to talk about Downy.”
“Good, because I don’t have anything to say about him. But turn off the porch light, in case there are meteors. I want to see them.”
She flicked off the light, turned off her iPod and pulled the door closed behind them. She sat down on the top step with Frank.
Frank shed the backpack, opened it and pulled out a couple of drinks, handing her one.
“Let’s be sure we have something straight,” she said. “We’re just friends. We’re going to stay just friends and not because of Downy or the fact that you’re a Downy or anything. It’s because I’m not dating. Got it?”
He twisted the top off his drink. “I think we already had this conversation. I get it. And I’m real sorry my brother hurt you but I’m not sorry it gave me a chance to get to know you on a different level. While you were with Downy, we only talked if you had a math crisis. I’m not looking for anything, Ash. I’m not dating, either. I have a lot I want to do.”
&
nbsp; “Like?” she asked, opening her drink.
“I have to ace a whole bunch of classes, for one thing. I’m not going to be getting a football scholarship.”
“Hmm. So, where do you think you’re going to college?”
“Harvard.”
“Whoa. That’s gonna be expensive.”
“There are whole websites and blogs dedicated to tips on how to get in and pay for it. You could fill a phone book with the scholarships and grants available. Not to mention loans.”
“Isn’t there anything closer?”
“There are lots of good universities that are closer, but I want to go to the east coast. There’s a lot out there I haven’t experienced—museums, libraries, galleries, theater, observatories. Not only does Harvard have a lot to offer but the whole area is a cultural mecca. Not to mention—I just want to spend some time in New York City. And D.C. I’ve never seen the monuments. And the National Air and Space Museum. I guess you already know—I like space and numbers.”
She was mesmerized. “You are going to be Bill Gates….”
He chuckled. “Bill Gates is taken. I’ll just be me.”
“Would you drop out of college?” she asked, thinking of Gates.
“If I had ideas that were bigger than what I could get in college, I might. That hasn’t happened yet. And I don’t see it happening soon. I’m more excited about the classes I’ll get to take than the prospect of getting out of school and making money. I have a long way to go.”
“You don’t have as far as everyone else,” she pointed out. “Show me the constellations again,” she said, leaning back and looking up.
He leaned back. “See the Big Dipper? Ursa Major. And right across from that is Cassiopeia—the Lady in the Chair. See it? Shaped like a W. And see the North star? The last star in the handle of the Little Dipper.” And then two burning stars shot across the sky. “Whoa,” he said. “Nice.”
“Make a wish,” she said.
“Don’t I get two?” he asked. “There are going to be more. It’s the perfect night for it.”
She laid back on the porch, her legs hanging down the stairs. “I love summer nights in Thunder Point. Tell me what you want to see in Boston, in New York.”