Bouncing (5 page)

“Whoa!” P.J. whispered to himself as he replaced the box’s lid and returned it to its proper place. “That was close!” He exited by the same route and with the same care he’d used when he entered the house just a few minutes before.

“Well? What did he say?” Wes asked as he pulled out of the driveway.

“What?” P.J. had been thinking about other things and forgot what he’d told Wes.

“Did Pop give you any money?”

“Oh. No. He said he couldn’t afford it.”

Wes chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me. But I wish he’d given you enough to pay for my gas.”

P.J. tried to hide his smile. The bills in the cereal box were all hundreds, and although he hadn’t taken the time to count them before stuffing them in his pocket, he guessed, based on past experience, that he was sitting on about a thousand dollars.

P.J. frowned. “Yeah, it’s too bad. If he’d given me anything, I’d have split it with you.”

Birthday Bash

“Hi, Dad!” Alex said as she popped her head through the door of his office. This had once been
his
father’s office, in the rear of the building that housed the flagship dry cleaner’s that had opened long before her birth. In fact, Alex suspected that some of the paperwork scattered about the clutter might be from the same era. Not that the condition of his work space reflected on her dad—his mind was uncluttered, clear and calculating, capable of running multiple businesses and recalling minute details that were never written on paper.

“Hello, sunshine! What a nice surprise! Come in, have a seat,” he said. There was no room for debate in his tone, or in most discussions with him. Before she could do as she was told, though, he was out from behind his desk, pulling her into a bear hug that could have broken ribs. Like her, he was tall and blond, and he looked down at her and grinned. “How are you?”

He broke the hug and pushed Alex in the direction of a worn leather chair opposite his desk, and as she sat he returned to his throne behind it. From there he ran a dozen dry-cleaning stores and twice as many car washes and Laundromats.

“I’m great, Dad! How are you?”

“Perfect. I’m so glad you’re here early. Your mother will be delighted to see you. And I’m sure she’ll put you to work.”

Alex had left the sanctuary of the beach to come home for her mother’s sixtieth birthday party. An intimate affair for a hundred of her closest friends and family would be catered in the backyard of their home later the next afternoon. To guarantee her arrival in the midst of shore traffic, Alex had decided to return the day before. As much as she loved the beach, she did miss her parents when she was gone for the summer, and she could tell from their recent conversations that her mother was stressing over the party. Alex’s presence would calm her, and her dad was right—a million small tasks would need to be completed. Because she was efficient and skilled, Alex was sure her mother would assign each and every one of them to her.

Not that it’d been easy to get away. Alex was used to her freedom, and this morning as she’d packed her bag and her car, she’d had to deal with a jealous, brooding Anke, who suddenly wanted to take the weekend off to attend the party. Explaining all the reasons why that was a bad idea had only fueled Anke’s anger, and Alex had left the beach on such bad terms she wasn’t sure they’d be able to patch things up when she returned. It wasn’t until she reached Philly and stopped to stretch that the sting of Anke’s harsh words began to fade. When she passed through the Lehigh Tunnel, and the flat planes of the valley magically transformed into the mountainous landscape she loved, Alex finally began to relax.

“That’s why I’m here, Dad. Whatever she needs.”

“Good, good. How are you feeling?” He didn’t look at her but instead shuffled some papers before him.

“I’m great. My summer’s been a blast and my batteries are recharged.”

Now he did look, with squinted eyes that tried to understand the inconceivable fact that someone so young and healthy-looking might really be sick.

“Good! That’s good!” he said, and smiled with obvious relief.

Changing to a more comfortable topic, Alex asked about his business, a subject she knew would both brighten his spirits and occupy the conversation for the foreseeable future.

“Not good, sunshine, not good at all. All of this wash-and-wear and casual work attire is killing the dry-cleaning business. Thank God for kids who throw up in bed. We can still get forty bucks a pop for cleaning bedding! The other businesses are fine. They’ve become our bread and butter.”

Sitting back in her chair and assuming a comfortable pose, Alex looked at the joy on his face even as he talked about business going down the drain. She’d heard it all before, from her grandfather, and from her dad, yet here they were thirty years later, still going strong. She humored him, though.

“Will anything be left for Andrew to inherit?” she inquired about her older brother, who’d worked for their father since he was big enough to walk, or so it seemed, and had essentially never left. He’d attended the local college for both his bachelor’s and master’s degrees, married a local girl, and settled into the same neighborhood as their parents.

He sighed. “I don’t know, sunshine. Probably not much future in dry cleaning. But I’m looking into a couple of liquor licenses.”

Alex knew the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania was investigating the sale of their liquor monopoly. Under the current system, the state owned all of the hundreds of stores that provided liquor to both the public and private sectors. The governor was looking to privatize the system. Good arguments on both sides of the debate made the decision a difficult one. Revenue from alcohol sales funded everything from building roads to paying state salaries. Those who supported the sale of the stores touted the economic opportunity for people like her father.

“That’s good,” Alex replied. “Where do you buy those?”

He laughed. “They’re only going to award a handful. You need to have money to get one. Lots of money. And you need the right political connections. But I’ve contributed to the campaigns of every senator and congressman and representative in the area, and you know—it’s all who you know.”

Alex studied him for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She’d never agree with him about things like this, but she didn’t want to offend him by expressing her opinion too strongly. “That doesn’t seem very fair, Dad. I mean, shouldn’t they sell licenses to people who’ve lost their jobs and give them an opportunity to make a living?”

He squinted again, appearing confused. “They couldn’t afford them.”

“Maybe they could, if they dropped the price.”

Again, the squint. “Then how would the state make money?”

“Just sell more licenses. Give everyone a chance.”

Waving a dismissive hand, he shook his head. “That would never work, Alex. If the little guy spent, say, fifty grand on a license, it’d be a waste of his money. The outlet liquor stores would undercut the prices, and everyone would go there. Sure, people would go to the corner store to pick up one bottle of wine for dinner, but if they were having a party, buying a dozen bottles, or if they owned a restaurant or a bar—they’d drive a few extra miles to save money. And your little guy would be out of business in six months
and
fifty thousand dollars in debt.”

Alex tried not to show her anger at her dad’s logic, but it reflected his sense of entitlement, which infuriated her. He wasn’t a bad man, though; in fact he was a good one. Quite generous with his wealth, he supported local causes like children’s basketball leagues and the animal shelter, his employees had good salaries and health-care benefits, and he was a fair employer.

“Dad, do you really think that’s right?”

“Sunshine, it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s the way it is. And if I don’t buy the licenses, someone else will. Then they’ll be making all the money and I won’t. It doesn’t matter if they’re wearing casual clothes to work. They’re still going to happy hour afterward, and booze is always going to be a moneymaker.”

It was pointless to argue, and besides, this trip was supposed to be a happy one. She decided to change the subject. “I don’t suppose you can get out for nine holes before I report for duty with Mom?”

Shaking his head he frowned. “Not today. But let’s get some lunch. I won fifty bucks on the Yankees game last night.”

Alex smiled. Her dad had always been a gambler, and while he’d probably lost more than he’d won over the years, he’d always spoiled her and Andrew with the winnings. “And how is Mr. Merck?” Alex asked as they stood to leave. Mr. Merck was a friend of her dad’s, a jolly man who owned the largest bakery around, as evidenced by his enormous waistline. He also ran an illegal gambling operation.

“Not so good. He hasn’t recovered from his bypass and was forced to turn the business over to Greg.”

“It’s too bad about Mr. Merck. But I’m sure Greg will do well.” Greg Merck was two years older than she, but they’d grown up at the country club together, playing tennis and golf in the mornings and attempting to drown each other at the pool in the afternoons. A dozen of them were in that age group, a year or two older and younger than Alex. The parents were all friends and the kids got along as well. Alex was sure the Mercks would be there to celebrate her mother’s milestone.

“Shall we invite your mother to lunch?” he asked as he guided her from his office.

“Let’s just make it a special date for us, Dad.”

Her car knew the way to the country club, and they took a table on the massive covered patio overlooking the eighteenth green. On the way they were greeted by a dozen members, most of them women who were friends of her mom or whose husbands did business with her dad. He’d grown up here, as she had, and served on the board, and knew everyone.

“I love it here,” Alex said as she wistfully looked out at the golf course and to the forest beyond, the hills slowly rising, blending into the Endless Mountains in the distance. A group was teeing off on a picturesque hole that climbed the mountainside, its green carved into the trees at the end of the fairway. She loved that hole and all of them at Mountain Meadows.

“You could be the pro here, Alex, if you just said the word.”

She laughed. “I couldn’t kiss that many asses, Dad.”

He laughed, and as the waiter took his order, Alex watched a beautiful drive sail down the middle of the fairway. She was itching to play. Maybe she could talk her mom into it, after the party.

Their lunch was pleasant, and after promising to see each other at home later, they went their separate ways. As expected, her mother was delighted to see her. She quickly put Alex to work taking care of the little things that needed to be done for the party. And what a party it was. Rather than lawn tents, the catering company actually set up a series of gazebos on the back lawn, some designated for the service of food and cocktails, others with bench-style seating and tables to allow people to eat without fear of attack from insects in the grass or the sun overhead.

Alex saw people she hadn’t seen in years—the parents of her friends, local doctors and lawyers, a judge, a congressman, businessmen and women—all the important people in Lackawanna County. The number one hundred had been mentioned as an estimated total of guests, and Alex wasn’t sure if anyone was counting, but she must have given out at least twice that many hugs before the night was through.

Cleanup was part of the package with the caterers (as well as restoration of the lawn trampled by human feet and gazebo floors), so without an ounce of guilt Alex sought the solitude of her childhood bedroom overlooking the quiet, tree-studded front yard, while the party was still in full force in the back. The sheer size of the property and the thickness of the old leaded windows combined with the soothing hum of the air conditioner to create for Alex a sanctuary a world apart from the one she’d escaped.

After showering, she stretched out in her bed and closed her eyes, thinking about the night. Her mother had been radiant, charming guests with her warm smile and kind words, and her father had entertained everyone with stories and off-color jokes. They were a remarkable couple, still happy after thirty-five years together.

Her parents were already married when they were her age, and while Alex wasn’t concerned with finding a wife, she found herself envying them—the companionship they shared, the obvious love, the comfortable life. Would she ever have that?

When she was younger, it was something she’d never thought of. After her diagnosis, it was something she couldn’t think of.

Uncomfortable with these thoughts and suddenly feeling quite alone, Alex rolled over and pulled her blanket up under her chin, desperately fighting the impulse to call Anke.

Crepes and Dates

The first rays of the morning sun were lending their light to the day as Brit climbed onto her Trek and began pedaling. As she headed north out of Bethany Beach, her view of the sunrise was blocked by the rows of houses to the east of Route One. All manner and size of beach homes had been erected over the years, from cottages that had been handed down through generations of families to multimillion-dollar dwellings housing the summer visitors from Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. She passed a gas station, empty at this early hour, and a twenty-four-hour pharmacy, which was surprisingly busy. The coffee-shop lot was filled.

How different this place was from Brazil. She hadn’t had long to recover from her service trip before embarking on her family vacation to the beach, and it was still shocking to see the evidence of civilization around her. It didn’t last long.

After a few miles Brit entered the Delaware Seashore State Park, and the development came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly, nothing obstructed her view of the waves of the Atlantic crashing on the shore except the grass on the dunes. Britain sucked in a breath, not from the effort of her exercise but from the sheer beauty before her. The waves shimmered as the bright rays of morning sun danced on their peaks. She was close enough to see the spray of water as the waves shattered on the beach. Under cover of darkness the ocean had delivered the treasures children would spend their morning discovering—petrified wood, seaweed, human trash, and seashells, broken and chipped and priceless to little seashell hunters.