Crunch (17 page)

“‘PUT THE MARRISS BIKE BARN OUT OF
Business’?” Vince read as sheets of paper came breezing out of the printer.

“It’s a joke. Sort of,” I said. I was bouncing around. Energy to burn. “It’s an attention grabber, don’t you think?”

Vince shifted his weight. Arched his eyebrows. “Hmm. Guess so…” He started to read on. I grabbed the page away from him.

“Now listen up,” I told my siblings. “This is a lot to take in before breakfast, but this is what we’re doing. And I need everyone.”

The twins stared. Lil nodded slightly—all her focus on me.

“Here it is.” I showed them. “It’s a self-help
bike clinic,” I said. “It’s tomorrow—all day long. And it’s free.”

“Free,” Lil repeated.

“Yep. Because Dad is hurt. And he can’t come home to all those bikes. We need to at least reduce ’em way down. That’s my goal. People can pay for parts. If we even have them.” I tried not to sound miserable about that. “I’m calling Pop and Mattie. We’ll get Runks, too, if we’re lucky.”

“But Dew, Pop and Mattie aren’t bike mechanics,” Lil broke this news to me gently.

“But they can help,” I said, and I tilted my head toward the twins. “We’re going to be busy. We’ll need all kinds of help. And Pop will be good with crowd control if we need him.”

“Cr-rowd,” Vince said. His jaw hung.

“I have a plan,” I said. “I’m going to hide you in the loft. Cord across the stairs. Limited access to the genius. You’ll be all set up and you can do one-on-ones for the complicated jobs. The customer becomes your assistant.”

“You’re going to take care of all the rest? By yourself?”

“Self-help,”
I said. “I know, I know. It’s going
to be hard to pull this off, but I made these.” I grabbed a stack of papers off the desk and fanned them. “I typed up copies of—”

“Dad’s cheat sheets,” Vince said.

“We’ll set up stations with the right tools and instructions for these basic jobs. Seventy-five percent of our work is simple stuff that people could do with a little guidance and—”

“Proper tools,” Vince finished my sentence again.

“It’s going to be heck,” I said. “Even hell. But people want their bikes. They are motivated. And if it clears even
some
bikes out of the barn, I’m all about it.”

Meanwhile, Lil was reading over my flyer. She finished and tapped the corner of the page against her bottom lip. “One thought,” she said. “Why put this out there? Why not limit it to the bikes you already have logged in? You have all the phone numbers.”

“Two reasons,” I said. (It was good to be the guy with all the answers.) “First, not everyone will come. Not everyone will want a self-help clinic. And second, I feel bad about yesterday. About the
people I sent away. It was the things they said that gave me this idea. Maybe some of them will see the signs and come back. I would feel good about that.”

“O-kay…” Lil said. She was not convinced. “So here’s another thought,” she said. “You’re right, this is catchy wording—‘put the Bike Barn out of business.’ It’s cute. But…”

“I’m not taking any buts,” I said.

“Your decision. But I suggest you use
FREE BIKE CLINIC
as your first line. In bigger letters.”

“I’ll run out of space. Besides, it says ‘free clinic’ farther down.”

“Nothing wrong with mentioning that it’s free twice,” she said. She thought for a second. “And people will feel more
patient
because it is free.
They’ll be nicer
.” She put on a big smile. “So drive that home, Dew. Keep these. Just print it separately—real big—and we’ll put the two pages up together.” She looked me in the eye. “That’s the idea, right? Put this up around town?”

“Yes. On the Post Road. And definitely out at the end of our own drive. We’ll plaster them over
the bummer sign I put out yesterday.”

“Okay,” Lil said. “I’ll take Angus and Eva and we’ll do that while you and Vince set up here.”

“And one last thing, Lil.” I squared up my shoulders. “I’m hiring Robert back. I need at least one other person who knows what he’s doing. You
have
to say yes,” I told her. “You have to.”

She nodded slowly. “Makes sense,” she said.

Yes! I had Lil. That meant I had them all.

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, POP AND MATTIE
arrived with the sun. Runks switched his shift to join us for the day. He stood in the kitchen singing, “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” at the top of his lungs. Only he was changing the lyrics.

“‘There’s a bright golden haze on the Bike Barn…’”

“Meadow!”
The twins laughed and tried to correct him. He sang straight over them. “There’s a bright golden haze on the Bike Barn…The orders are high as an astronaut’s eye…”

“…and Miss Gloria Cloud just pinched a fresh pie…” Robert drowned out Runks as he made his entrance.

We groaned. Then we laughed.

“Ah! But she’s a crowd pleaser,” said Robert.
“You’ve got takers,” he said. “People in the yard.”

Lil surprised me. She was cheery. “Good morning, everybody! Thanks
so
much for coming to help.”

You would have thought we were about to throw a party. And why not? Why not at least try to think that way? Who knew what the day would bring? This was an experiment.

“Okay, everyone, we have the next twelve minutes for ourselves. Everyone knows what they’re doing. So for now, pretend there is no one out there,” I said. Of course, I looked out the window immediately. I saw about eighteen people bringing bikes and probably just as many arriving solo. I figured they had come to work on bikes that were already logged in. I’d done a lot of phoning the day before. Of course, once we saw the crowd, neither Vince nor I could eat. I was excited. He was stricken.

Runks came up beside me. “Dewey, I am
quite
certain this belongs to you,” he said. He was slipping something into my hand.

“What?” I looked down at a roll of cash.

“Among the items in Macey’s apartment,” he said. Then he added, “Smell it.”

I did. Peppermint.

“Thank you,” I said. I closed my fingers around the roll. “And for keeping it on the down low, too.”

Runks pulled us together for a good-luck hum, as he called it. “Something my theater group does before opening night,” he explained. We joined hands and sent a vibe through the kitchen that made Greatness howl and prance, while poor deaf Goodness just tilted his head at us. When the buzz was gone, we lined up to go outside. “Everyone ready?” I asked.

Angus and Eva began to march in place.

Pop Chilly raised his thermos of iced coffee and hollered, “Cheers!”

Mattie said, “May the mob prove gracious!”

“Hear! Hear!” cried Runks. “Oh, and to assist you, Dewey…” He pulled a megaphone out of a duffel bag. “Courtesy of the Rocky Shores PD!” He leaned toward me and said, “We owe you that much.”

It seemed to me if we went down we’d go down cheering. We walked out the front door. When I hit the lawn I called into the megaphone. “Good morning, Rocky Shores!”

WE GOT OFF TO A GOOD START.

Vince double-timed it up to the loft. I called for people with logged-in bikes to make a line to the right. They did this so perfectly it made me think of the biking lanes that had formed along the highway in recent days. “Okay, now this is Lil and this is Mattie.” They both waved. “They’ll fetch your bike for you if it’s already here. If you are new today and you know you need brakes or if your bike is hard to pedal, please move to the far left and go to the workbench marked
BRAKES
.” Robert raised his hands and pointed to the sign at his work station. Again, they split up in an orderly way.

I overheard a man say, “I’ll wait in any line he tells me to. I took the day off to be here. I figure it’s well worth it.” He smiled and nodded to a couple
of kids who were pushing trail bikes.

I called for Flats next and moved them two steps left. “Officer Runkle will get you started,” I called. “You’re in good hands. He’s had a few flats on the Rocky Shore’s bike beat. He knows what he’s doing.” That made the crowd laugh. I felt my face flush. I couldn’t help grinning. Maybe this
was
going to work. I called for Ragged Shifting and Fallen Chains.

So it went.

We had several diagnostic huddles going. People conversing and nodding. Cooperating! Excellent, I thought. Now how am I going to make it around to these other stations? I was the runner. I knew this part would be tough. And more “takers,” as Robert had called them, were arriving.

Lil rushed up and said, “Mattie will keep fetching. I’ll greet people and send them to the stations. I listened to you, Dewey. I can do it.” I handed her the megaphone.

On my way to the Ragged Shifting station, I saw Pop Chilly out of the corner of my eye. He gave me a quick thumbs-up. “Great start, Dewey!” I waved back. He had Angus and Eva involved in
something that had to do with a big tin can and a poster and some string. I couldn’t stop to find out what he was up to.

I told my Ragged Shifters, “Okay, believe it or not, your problem can be as simple as a sticky link in the chain that makes it
feel like
your shifters aren’t working. So let’s start there. Then we’ll work our way back from the derailleurs to the cables until we meet the problem.” People were focused. Willing. This was good. I moved two people over to the Chains bench to try lubricating. Then I ran one guy and his bike up to the Genius Loft to see Vince—his first customer of the day. When I felt like Vince was comfortable talking to the guy, I ran back down the stairs. I strung the rope across, as promised.

It was still a sort of triage, I thought. It was also like putting out fires. Lots and lots of fires. I swung out of the shop and glanced beyond the yard to the driveway. People were still arriving. Then a few flashes of purple and white caught my eye.

Team Bocci?

Sure enough. There were three touring bikes—all loaded down, one with a trailer in tow. One
of the riders came toward me, peeling off his helmet. “Hey,” he said. “It’s Dewey, right? Dewey Marriss?”

I recognized him, and the others, too. They were all members of Mr. Bocci’s team. They were also crackerjack mechanics. We shook hands.

“We hoped we could help. Where do you want us?”

“W-want you?” I said dumbly.

“Is it okay if we roll the trailer up here? Will it be in the way?”

“N-no,” I said, still being stupid.

“Oh, hey, look,” one guy told the others. He pointed to one of my station signs. “He’s got it divided up already.”

“Oh, perfect,” the first guy said. He pulled a portable bike stand from the cargo and started assembling it at one of the stations. “Is this good?” he asked me. “We’ve got two more. And a truing stand.”

“This…is
great
,” I said. “But you should know…uh…it’s a
free
clinic, really. These people aren’t expecting to pay for labor.”

“Free.” The guy smiled. “Yeah. We saw your sign. We’re cool with that. We’re volunteers.” His team began unpacking the trailer—make that
a treasure chest on wheels
; it was full of parts.

“I-I will make sure you get paid for the parts, though,” I said.

“We’ll collect as we go. Oh, I almost forgot. Mr. Bocci says hi.”

Helpfulness is contagious. Not only did I have Team Bocci on my side, I had a lot of the day’s “takers” on my side too. But they were not just takers. They were also
givers
.

“Adjusting a bottom bracket? I can do it!” I heard one woman calling. “I just learned. Did it right here.” She waved a cheat sheet over her head and pointed to her bike. “I can help you!”

It happened over and over again all morning long. People stayed to help each other.

Meanwhile, Pop Chilly strung that tin can from a pine branch and stuck a poster on the tree that said
WHAT’S TODAY WORTH TO YOU
? He found himself a stick and every so often he’d give that can a nice noisy beating just to point it out to everyone.

“Pop,” I whispered a reminder. “It’s supposed to be a
free
clinic. Don’t embarrass anyone if—”

“Baw!” said Pop. “I’m a geezer! Geezers get away with whatever! Ask the expert,” he said, and he motioned to the fence, where Mr. Spivey was leaning on his elbows and observing. What could I do? This was not a day that I could stop to steer geezers.

It was past noon before I paused to look around again. The sun was high and bright. The yard was hot. I was exhausted and drenched in sweat. But the clinic was going great. With Team Bocci’s help, we had every station manned. Runks was working his way through flats. Lil had joined forces with him—in command of the compressor. Vince was calm and productive in the loft.

Suddenly, my body called on breakfast—the one I had not eaten.

I was starved.

I was also sorry. I had a lot of helpers and they probably all needed food. I was about to pull Lil off the compressor and beg her to go open a bunch of sardines or something when I saw Mattie throw
a cloth over our picnic table. She set out a stack of paper plates and napkins.

Then Mrs. Bertalli came riding up on her bike. Her boys followed close behind her, along with two more bikers—a man I did not know and a woman with a toddler on the back of her bike, who I thought looked familiar. They were loaded down with canvas grocery bags.

Food!
Somebody had a plan.

“Okay now,” Mrs. B called to her sons. “Chris and Carl, bring those sandwiches over here on this end, boys. And Frederick, how about a little shade for your pasta salads?”

“Don’t forget, I have ham-and-honey-mustard and beef and Boursin biscuits coming, too.”

“They’re bringing the chicken wings and coleslaw, too,” said the lady with the baby.

“So make us some room!” Frederick, whoever he was, gave Mrs. Bertalli a friendly nudge and she laughed.

It sounded to me like someone else must be coming. Then I heard it—the electric hum.

The Rocky Shores Police Department’s wheelie
pod pulled into our driveway. Mrs. Bertalli and her friends let out a cheer. Smiling and laughing, two officers unloaded a couple of coolers and several boxes.

“Mattie, sweetheart, where’s that pitcher for lemonade?” Mrs. B set to slicing lemons. Lil appeared out of nowhere to steal a slice.

I took a break and jogged over. “Mrs. Bertalli! Wow! What’s all of this?” I asked.

But it was the man called Frederick who supplied the answer. “Think of this as a few pounds of gratitude with a little bit of mayo.”

“Gratitude?” Lil and I looked at each other.

“You kids don’t know the half of it. But my deli was robbed three times before you spray-painted the culprit. I didn’t even know at first. In fact, that young officer had me so confused. He called me each time to tell me he’d found my door jimmied open. I was so grateful to him. But it never seemed like much was missing. So I put in a security camera, check the tapes, and
who
do I think I see walking away in the middle of the night with a half a rib roast and a six-pound wheel of imported
Fontina cheese on his shoulder?”

“No!”
Lil said.

“Yessir! And very clever. He took
not so much
each time.” Frederick made a pinching gesture with his fingers.

“Yes! That’s it!” I nearly exploded. Lil locked eyes with me for just a second and gave me a slight nod.

“But I’m not the only one,” Frederick said.

“That’s right.” The lady with the toddler turned to me. “I don’t know if you remember me. You fixed my bike. I own McKinnon’s Grill.”

“Oh!” I said. “Mrs. McKinnon—Big M, small c, big K…”

She laughed and said, “That’s right. The thief hit my business, too. Same story. The thing was, none of us could be positive who it was on those murky security tapes. But once you spray-painted him…well, you know the rest. We’re very grateful. When we saw the signs for the clinic we wanted to be a part of it, and your friend Mrs. Bertalli got us organized.”

“So, here’s lunch!” Frederick said.

“And we’ve got something for everybody,” Mrs. Bertalli said. “Eat! Eat! You must be famished. Let’s get everyone.”

“I can do it!” Eva called, and she ran up onto the porch and rang the bell. Suddenly Angus’s voice came over the police megaphone.

“Anybody hungry out there?”

So friends, takers, givers, Boccis, and even a neighbor all had lunch together. Pop Chilly called Mr. Spivey over, and he came.

“Here,” Pop said. He pushed his can-whacking stick into the Spive’s hands. “Drum for your supper. I’m taking a break. You manage the can.”

Lil and I looked at each other. We both started laughing so hard I thought pasta salad would come out her nose.