“I've always got time for you, in any way. Come on back. Layla's going to hold my calls.” He winked at her as he took Essie's arm. “In case our passions overwhelm us.”
“Should I just lock the outside door?” Layla called out as he led Essie away.
“It's a wonder you can keep your mind on your work,” Essie told him as they moved into his office, “with a pretty girl like that around.”
“I have Herculean power of will. Want a Coke?”
“You know, I believe I would.”
“Two seconds.”
He got a glass, ice, poured. She was one of Fox's favorite people, and he made sure she was comfortable before he sat with her in the sitting area of his office. “Where's Ginger?” he asked, referring to Cal's cousin who lived with Essie.
“She went on to the bank before it closes. She'll be coming back for me. This won't take long.”
“What can I do for you? Want to sue somebody?”
She smiled at him. “Can't think of anything I'd like less. I wonder why people are forever suing each other.”
“Blame the lawyers. Still, it's a better alternative than beating the hell out of each other. Mostly.”
“People do that, too. But I'm not here for either. It's about my will, Fox.”
It gave him a little pang. She was ninety-three, and he certainly understood and appreciated the value of having your affairs well in order long before you approached Essie's age. But it still gave him a little pang to think of his world without her in it.
“I updated your will and your trust a few years ago. Do you want changes?”
“Nothing big. I have a couple pieces of jewelry I wanted to earmark for Quinn. Right now, my pearls and my aquamarine earrings are going to Frannie. She understands I want to leave them to her future daughter-in-law. I've talked to her about it. And I know I can leave it like that, I can trust her to give them to Quinn. But, as I recall, you told me it's easier on those left behind if everything's spelled out.”
“It generally is. I can take care of that for you.” Though he trusted his memory when it came to Essie's business, Fox rose to get a legal pad and note it all down. “It won't take long to draft the change. I can bring it by for your signature on Monday if that works for you.”
“That's just fine, but I don't mind coming in.”
He knew she continued to go into the library nearly every day, but if he could save her a trip he'd rather. “Tell you what, when it's ready, I'll give you a call. Then we'll see which way it works best. Is there anything else you want to change, add, take out?”
“No, just those two pieces. You have everything spelled out so clearly. It gives me peace of mind, Fox.”
“And if any of my grandchildren turn out to be lawyers, they can handle it for you.”
Her lips curved, but her eyes stayed somber as she reached out to pat his hand. “I'd like to live to see Cal married next fall. I'd like to live through this next Seven and dance with my boy at his wedding.”
“Miss Essieâ”
“Wouldn't mind dancing with you at yours. And I can be greedy and say I'd like to hold Cal's firstborn in my arms. But I know that may not be. What's coming this time is worse than all the rest.”
“We won't let anything happen to you.”
She let out a sigh that was full of affection. “You've seen to this town since you were ten years old. You and Cal and Gage. I'd like to live to see the day you didn't have to see to it. I'm holding out for that.” She gave his hand another pat. “Now I expect Ginger will be coming along to fetch me.”
He rose to help her to her feet. “I'll walk you out, wait for her.”
“You just go about your business. I hope you've got something fun planned for the weekend.”
“I would if you'd go out with me.”
She laughed, leaning on his arm as he walked her out. “There was a day.”
He stood at the window, watching as Ginger eased Essie into the car.
“She's a remarkable woman,” Layla commented.
“Yeah, she's something. I need you to pull her estate file. She wants a couple of changes.”
“All right.”
“Do you ever think we'll lose this? That we'll lose the town, ourselves, the whole damn ball?”
She hesitated. “Don't you?”
“No.” He glanced back at her. “No, I know we'll win this. But we won't all make it. Not everyone who's out there going about their business today is going to come through it.”
Instead of taking his walk, Fox went back into his office. He took a copy of his own will out of the desk drawer to review it.
JUST AFTER FIVE HE WALKED HIS LAST CLIENT TO the door, then turned to Layla. “We're out of here. Grab your things. We're going bowling.”
“I really don't think so, but that's a nice thought. I want to check in with Quinn.”
“She's meeting us there. The whole gang's hitting the Bowl-a-Rama. It's Friday night. Pizza, beer, and duckpins.”
She thought of the quiet meal of soup she'd planned, a glass of wine and a book. “You like to bowl.”
“I hate it, which is problematic seeing as one of my closest friends owns a bowling alley.” He got her coat as he spoke. “But the pizza's good, and there are pinball machines. I love me some pinball. Regardless, we earned a break. From everything.”
“I guess we did.”
He held out her coat. “Friday night in the Hollow? The Bowl-a-Rama's the place to be.”
She smiled. “Then I guess we'd better get there. Can we walk?”
“Read my mind. Figuratively speaking. I've been antsy all day.” He paused after they'd stepped outside. “Pansies in the tub outside the Flower Pot and see there? That's Eric Moore, clean-shaven. He shaves off his winter beard every March. Spring's coming.”
He took her hand as they hit the sidewalk. “Do you know what I love as much as pinball and pizza?”
“What?”
“Taking a walk with a pretty girl.”
She aimed a look at him. “Your mood's improved.”
“Anticipation of pizza does that for me.”
“No, I mean it.”
He shot a wave at someone across the street. “I wallowed some. I need a good wallow once in a while, then I scrape it off.”
“How?”
“By remembering we all do what we do. By reminding myself I believe good mostly wins out in the long run. Sometimes the long run's a bitch, but good mostly wins out.”
“You're cheering me up.”
“Good. That was the plan.”
“I wasn't exactly wallowing. I think I got jammed up at worrying. Pansies in the tub, that's a good sign, but I hate that it's offset by ones like this.” She gestured toward the gift shop. “I want to believe good mostly wins out, too, but it's hard knowing it costs so much, that some people have to lose.”
“Maybe it's not a loss. Maybe they'll relocate to Iowa and hit the lottery, or double their business. Or they'll just be happier there, for whatever reason. The wheel's got to turn before you get anywhere.”
“So says the man practicing law in the town where he was born.”
“I turned the wheel.” They crossed at the Square. “It brought me right back here. Brought you here, too.”
He pulled open the door, and led her into the noise of the Bowl-a-Rama.
“To pizza and pinball.”
“And pansies, to continue the alliteration. Then there's bowling and bonhomie.”
“Bonhomie. Triple word score.”
“Play your cards right.” He turned her and, letting the mood carry him, laid his lips on hers before she could prepare herself. “There could be sex and satisfaction.”
“I'm not playing cards just yet.”
“So we settle for friends and frivolity. And boy, am I done with that.” He led her to lane six, where Cal sat along with Quinn and Cybil, changing shoes. “Where's Turner?”
“Deserted us for the arcade,” Cybil told him.
“And the pinball rivalry continues. Catch you later.”
“No problem. I'll have three beautiful women to myself.” Cal held out a pair of bowling shoes. “Size seven?”
“That would be me.” Layla slid into the booth as Fox gestured Cal a few steps away.
“How'd you get Gage to come in?”
“It's his father's night off. Bill's not around, so . . .”
“Got it. I'm going to go whip his ass at Tomcat. He'll be buying the beer.”
“Tomcat?” Cybil's eyebrows rose dramatically. “Isn't that a war game?”
“Maybe.” Fox eyed her narrowly. “What are you, my mother? And you don't have to mention me whipping Gage's ass at a war game to my mother if you should happen to run into her.”
An hour with the lights, the bells, the patter of antiair-craft cut away even the fading edges of Fox's pensive mood. It didn't hurt to stand and watch a trio of attractive women bend and stretch while he drank a victory beer. Gage had
never
been able to beat him at Tomcat.
“Best view in the house,” Gage commented as they stood back, studying Quinn's posterior as she approached the line.
“Hard to beat. Friday night leagues are coming in.” Fox glanced over where men and women in bowling shirts passed by the front desk. “Cal's going to have a full house tonight.”
“There's Napper.” Gage sipped his beer while he studied the man in the maroon and cream team shirt. “Is he stillâ”
“Yeah. Had some words with him just a couple days ago. He's just an older asshole now, with a badge.”
“A fifty-eight.” Layla plopped down to change her shoes after her last frame. “I don't think I've discovered my newest passion.”
“I like it,” Cybil said as she sat beside her. “I'd vote for more attractive footwear, but I like the game, the destruct, reconstruct of it.”
“Meaning?”
“Deliver the ball, destroy the pins. Hit them right, you can make them destroy each other. Then, wait a minute, they're all back again, like ten soldiers. After all those war games,” she said with a teasing smile for Fox, “I'm starving.” She tipped her head back, looked at Gage. “How'd your battle fare?”
“I do better with cards and women.”
“I kicked his ass, as promised. Beer's on Gage.”
They didn't discuss the morning as they sat around a table with pizza and beer. They didn't talk about their plans for the next day. For the moment, they were simply a group of friends enjoying one another and the entertainment offered in a small, rural town.
“My game next time,” Gage announced. “A nice friendly game of poker.” He sneered at Fox. “We'll see who's buying the beer then.”
“Anytime, anywhere.” Fox grinned as he grabbed a slice of pizza. “I've been practicing.”
“Strip poker doesn't count.”
“Does if you win,” he said with his mouth full.
“Look who's back!” Shelley Kholer wiggled her way over in jeans designed to bruise internal organs and a shirt sized for an undeveloped twelve-year-old. She grabbed Gage's face with both hands and gave him a long, greedy and slightly drunken kiss.
“Hey, Shell,” he said when he had his tongue back.
“I heard you were back, but haven't seen hide or hair. Aren't you just as yummy as ever? Why don't weâ”
“What's new?” he interrupted, and picked up a beer to shield his mouth from another assault.
“I'm getting a divorce.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“I'm not. Block's a worthless, two-timing bastard with a dick the size of a pickle. One of those little ones, you know?”
“I didn't know that.”
“Shoulda run away with you,” she said and sent everyone at the table a blurry smile. “Hi, y'all. Hey, Fox! I want to talk to you about my divorce.”
She wanted to talk about her divorce twenty hours out of every twenty-four, Fox thought. The other four were reserved for talking about her sister who'd gotten a little too friendly with Shelley's husband. “Why don't you come into the office next week?”
“I can talk freely here. I got no secrets. I got no secrets in the whole damn town. Every sumbitch in it knows my husband got caught with his hand on my sister's tit. I wanna add that thing, that loss of consortiumâthat loss of nookie thing to the complaint.”
“We'll talk about that. Why don't I buy you a cup of coffee up at the counter, and we canâ”
“Don't want coffee. I got a nice buzz on to celebrate my upcoming divorce. I want another beer, and I want to make out with Gage. Like the old days.”
“Why don't we have one anyway?”
“I could make out with you,” she said to Fox as he rose to lead her away. “Did we ever make out?”
“I was fifteen in the old days,” Gage announced when Fox steered Shelley to the counter. “I just want that on record.”
“She's so unhappy. Sorry,” Layla murmured. “It's one of those things I can't help but pick up on. She's so miserable.”
“Fox'll help her through it. It's what he does.” Cal nodded toward the counter where Shelley sat, listening to Fox, her head resting on his shoulder. “He's the sort of lawyer who takes the term
counselor
to heart.”
“If my sister played squeeze the melons with my husband, I'd want to skin him in a divorce, too.” Cybil broke off a tiny corner of a nacho. “That's if I were married. And after I'd beaten them both to bloody pulps. Is her husband really named Block?”
“Unfortunately,” Cal confirmed.