The Farewell Season (6 page)

"Tougher than I thought it would be," Rolf said. "I'm kind of in the spotlight, and some of the guys … well, they look at me differently. Like I'm not just one of the guys anymore."

"What do you mean?" Glynnie rested her chin on her hand and leaned forward.

"Well, uh, I've always been kind of … loud.
Enthusiastic
, Coach Short always said. When the defense is on the sidelines, I always cheer and stuff, to help the team keep going." He popped a spritz cookie in his mouth, downing it in two chews. "You know, when guys are down sometimes sideline enthusiasm can turn into on-field enthusiasm. Now that I'm captain, though … I don't know … some of the guys don't like it. It's weird. I wonder, am I the right guy for the job?"

"Of
course
you're the right guy for the job, Rolf." Kirstin jabbed her finger at him for emphasis.

Rolf smiled and gently tweaked Kirstin's chin. "My loyal fan club."

Glynnie took notes on all of this.

"What are you writing … a book?" I asked.

Glynnie shook her head. "For now, just an article."

"And someday …?" I asked, figuring there was more.

"The Great American Novel, of course," Glynnie said, not quite keeping a straight face.

"Oh, of course," I said. I did not add, Give me a break … doesn't everyone who writes think he'll write the Great American novel?

"You want to be a
writer
? For a
living
?" Kirstin asked.

"'Want to be' is the key phrase," Glynnie said.

"You'll make it," Kirstin said, ever the optimist. "I can say I knew you when."

"Check back in ten years and see if you admit to ever knowing me," Glynnie said, half-seriously.

When we finished eating, Kirstin managed to duck out of cleaning up again by insisting on showing Glynnie the goldfish. Just as Rolf and I finished cleaning up, Kirstin and Glynnie came back in.

"Perfect timing," I said.

"What did you think of the goldfish, Glynnie?" Rolf said.

"They were fun to watch," Glynnie said. "And the yard, it's just beautiful! I could've sat back there all afternoon."

"Kirstin did most of the work in the yard," Rolf said.

"Really?" Glynnie asked.

"Well, Mom and me," Kirstin said, "with a lot of advice from Rolf about native woodland plants."

"I'm impressed." Glynnie scribbled some notes.

"Are you through reviewing the yard?" I asked. "I mean, I'd like to get some rest before afternoon practice."

"Isn't the antique store closed today?" Glynnie asked.

"Yeah, but the sign also says that it's open 'By Chance.'"

"Meaning, if anyone's home, the store is open?"

"You got it," I said. I was thinking it would be nice if Glynnie would leave.

The buzzer sounded.

"Rolf and I have some errands to run," Kirstin said.

"Hey, it's your turn," I said, but she and Rolf were out the door before I got the last word out.

"Duty calls," I said to Glynnie. "See ya."

I suppose I could've walked her to the front door first, but I figured she'd find her way out.

In the shop were two men who seemed to know exactly what they were looking for. They circled the shop and within five minutes had picked up a batter bowl, pitcher, salt-and-pepper shaker set and a one-quart casserole dish all in a red-dots pattern from the early thirties.

As I totaled things up the shorter guy with the mustache said, "I can't believe these marvelous finds!"

"Everything is
so
perfect for our kitchen!" the tall guy wearing vintage rimless eyeglasses exclaimed.

I couldn't believe how quickly they'd dropped over two hundred dollars, not that I was complaining.

As soon as they left, I was ready to head back into the house. I needed at least a quick nap before afternoon practice or I'd never make it through. I was feeling pretty good, thinking of the money I'd pulled in and how good it would be to sack out for a while. Just as I took two steps, however, another customer entered the store. He was a tall dude, black hair, blue eyes and a face so tanned and chiseled it looked as if it'd been cast in bronze.

He nodded at me, but then immediately started poking through the box of tools near the end of the counter. It didn't look as if he needed any help, so I didn't ask. It didn't take long for him to pull a ruler out of the box.

He opened it, looked it over, folded it up. "Hmm. It's got clear markings, folds tight, very nice condition. I'll take it."

"That'll be seventy-five dollars."

"Do you take credit cards?"

"Yes sir." I took the card, ran it through the machine, which to me is practically an antique. Maybe that's why Mom insists on keeping it even though I've tried to talk her into going electronic instead. I guess the old machine fits in with the cash register and the phone, which is a replica of an 1820's wooden wall phone. I check the receipt twice to make sure I filled it out right. Once I forgot to write down what the item was and Mom had a fit.

I asked for I.D. and checked it carefully. Trevor Rock. Huh. The name fit his sculpted looks. I saw that he was from L.A. Mom would want me to be "friendly" and ask if he'd just moved here or if he was in town for the Scandinavian Festival, but he didn't look like the kind of guy who wanted to make small talk. Instead, I said, "You want a sack?"

"No, thanks." He started to leave, then stopped and asked, "You run this place?"

"Me? No. It's my Mom's."

"Mmm. Nice shop."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"See ya."

He turned and left. As he opened the door, I noticed a black pickup parked there. I went over and peaked out the front window. Sure enough, he got in the pickup. Huh. Was that the same guy who stopped to talk to Glynnie? Why was he still hanging around town?

Okay. Maybe he
was
here for the Scandinavian Festival. Or maybe he
did
just move to town. Wait. What did it matter? I sold close to three hundred dollars worth of stuff in less than twenty minutes. Not bad.

I started whistling, but my good mood was cut short when I opened the door to go back in the house. I heard piano music and Glynnie singing from "All Through the Night."

I stormed into the living room and slammed my fist on the piano. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Chapter Five

Glynnie's eyebrows flew up. "I saw the sheet music, so I assumed it was okay to play the piano." She stood up and closed the lid over the keys. "If it's too fragile, I apologize."

For a second I froze, staring at Glynnie, confused by her response. Of course, how could she have known? "Look," I finally said, "it's not the piano. It's … it's … I'm tired. I really think you should go."

I grabbed her elbow and propelled her out the door onto the front porch.

"But I haven't really had a chance to interview
you
yet," Glynnie said, apparently unfazed by being rushed outside. "How 'bout just a few minutes?"

"Look, I—"

I heard loud, thumping music. I saw Jenny Lund driving down the street with Hedy riding shotgun. "Well, okay." I quickly guided Glynnie over to the porch swing. We sat down and I not-quite rested my hand on her shoulder. "I guess you could ask a few questions." I sneaked a look at Jenny's car to see if Hedy was getting an eyeful. She was. "What would you like to know?"

"For starters," Glynnie said, her big gray-blue eyes sharp and assessing through her thick round glasses, "you could tell me what the heck is going on."

"Going on?" I put on my best little-boy innocent look that worked so well on girls from two to ninety-two. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why on earth would you try to use
me
to make Hedy Theodore jealous?"

"What?"

"You put your hand on my shoulder after practice, just as Hedy walks by. Then, you're ready to throw me off your porch one second and cozying up to me on the swing the next. I mean, I
am
aware that your arm is perilously close to being around my shoulder."

Caught.
I withdrew my arm. I guess Glynnie was one of those rare females, besides Kirstin, who wasn't totally charmed by my angelic looks. "It wasn't the piano … it was the song."

"What?"

"It was the song that bothered me. It's okay to play the piano. Mom doesn't believe in having furniture that can't be used."

"And the song has something to do with Hedy?"

"No. Nothing like that." I took a deep breath. "I guess what I'm trying to do is apologize. Let's start over. Ask me something about football."

"Oh, no." Glynnie shook her head. She was not easily distracted. "You can't throw out something like that comment about the song and not explain."

I was floating in a foggy sea of emotions. Maybe if I just gave one big kick, I'd hit dry land. "My father used to sing that song. All the time. With Kirstin. They'd play a duet and sing. It was his favorite song."

"Why, then," Glynnie asked softly, "did it make you
angry
to hear it?"

"I don't know … I mean … that is … I'm sorry I blew up."

Glynnie sat there, staring at me, not in shock, but thoughtfully.

"I'm beat," I said. "I'll see you." Without waiting for a response, I got up, went into the house and straight to my room. I flung myself on my bed and pounded the mattress.

Damn! Damn … Why did I act like such a jerk about Glynnie playing the piano? What was wrong with me, anyway?

Chapter Six

I must've fallen asleep, because next thing I knew my face was buried in my pillow and Starburst was scratching at the window screen.

I sat up, opened the screen for Starburst and tried to think. What time was it? I checked my watch. Quarter to three. Rolf would be here soon.

Suddenly my face burned. I'd left Glynnie on the porch swing. For a second, I pictured her still sitting there, waiting for me to come back and answer questions. I almost laughed at the idea. Persistent as she was, I was sure Glynnie wasn't the sort of girl who'd cool her heels for two hours for anybody.

Starburst rubbed against my arm, meowing insistently in her I'm-ready-to-be-fed voice. I scratched her head. "Okay, okay."

When I stood up I realized how tired I was, and how hot. I had another two hours of practice in front of me. Trying not to step on Starburst as she led me downstairs to the kitchen, I felt the aches and pains that would only get worse by tomorrow.

"Okay, what'll it be?" I asked as I surveyed the selection of cat food. "How 'bout Seafood Stew?"

Starburst rubbed against my leg and purred her approval.

As I spooned some gooey nuggets of Seafood Stew into Starburst's food bowl and refilled her water dish, I thought about what a great life she had and wondered if she appreciated it. Would she miss me when I went away to college? She acted real weird after Dad died, so I thought she knew he was gone and that it bothered her. But who could tell for sure? She was back to her old routine and her life seemed right on track.

Suddenly, Kirstin and Rolf spilled into the kitchen.

"There he is." Kirstin pointed at me. "With the only living creature he shows any concern for besides himself."

"That's 'cause Starburst is the only female under sixteen in this house who shows me any respect," I shot back.

"She's eighty-four in human years," Kirstin replied. "You know how those grandmother types like to fuss over you."

"All females like to fuss over me," I said, "with one notable exception." Well, maybe two, if you counted Glynnie—but I wasn't going to mention that to Kirstin.

"If you mean me, you've got that right!"

"Okay, you two," Rolf said, sounding almost parental. "Eric and I have to shove off."

"Oh. Goodbye, Rolf," Kirstin said.

"See you later, Kirstin." Rolf gave her braid a playful tug.

I gave it a good hard yank, ran outside, hopped in Rolf's truck and locked the door before Kirstin could retaliate. I expected her to run out and pound on the door, but after a minute or so, Rolf came out alone.

"What'd you do? Tie her up?" I joked.

"Huh?" Rolf looked puzzled as he started the truck. Then he laughed. "I talked. She calmed down."

"You're a real pro," I said.

"When it comes to girls, you're the expert," Rolf said. He paused, then asked, "When're you going to start looking at girls again? It's been quite a while since …." He stopped and then went on, "… since you broke up with Hedy."

"Yeah … well." I twisted in my seat. "With practice and applying to college and trying to get recruited for a football scholarship, I've got enough to think about."