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.King’s newest mystery between rings of the doorbell.Then Barr had called, and I ended up inviting him over.Or he invited himself.Actually, I’m not sure how it happened, but here he was.Ms.King, move over.I watched Meghan as she heated soup on the stove for her and Erin’s early dinner.I’d been worried about her reaction to Dick’s slime-ball behavior.He hadn’t stood up against his vile mother when it came to his own daughter, and given that, Meghan was ready to believe the worst about him.Meghan was kicking around the idea of trying to adjust their custody agreement, even more uneasy than before about his ability to take care of Erin, even for a couple of days at a time.But since asking for her help, Dick wasn’t calling, wasn’t making a peep.He hadn’t shown up to get Erin last weekend, either.Meghan had heard from a mutual friend that he’d said something about how much Cadyville sucked and how he wanted to move back to California.I think she was hoping he’d do so as soon as he was allowed to leave the state.As for Erin herself, she seemed to be on an even keel.Somehow the kid was able to accept things, not fight against them, and not expect them to be different.The rest of us, the grownups at least, tended to rail against the inevitable with remarkable regularity.She coasted along in the present like a little Zen monk with a wicked sense of humor.Her dad was a creep? Yeah, well … what about it?Then I remembered her sitting on the sofa, acting like she was reading The Wolves of Willoughby Chase but feeling lower than slug snot because Dick had brought her home early.Maybe her aplomb wasn’t quite so seamless.Maybe Meghan and I should be keeping a close eye on the little one for cracks and broken places.“So, what’s your costume going to be?” Ambrose asked Erin.Her mouth full of the cheese and crackers her mom had put in front of her, Erin pointed to her chest.She was wearing a knockoff Seattle Mariners jersey with a big 51 on the front.“You’re going as a baseball player?”She chewed and nodded emphatically, pointing at her chest again.“You’re going as Ichiro.”Her head bobbed in the affirmative.Ambrose sat back.“Cool.”Erin swallowed.“I’m gonna slick my hair down, and I’ve got these cool shades just like his.And I’ve got a bat and a ball and a glove and stuff.”“Sounds like a lot to carry,” Ambrose said.“Good thing your mom’ll be along.”Meghan grinned.“I may have to charge a percentage for hauling around all that candy.”“Oh right, Mom.Like you won’t eat half of it, anyway.”Meghan waggled her eyebrows at her daughter, and they both giggled.“Do you play baseball?” Ambrose asked.“No.I suck at sports,” Erin said.“But I like to watch.”“Erin,” Meghan said.“Sorry.I’m really bad at sports.”“No, you’re not.”“Whatever.I’m gonna go get my stuff and show it to Barr.”“But your soup’s ready,” Meghan said—to the sound of Erin pounding up the stairs to her room.Moments later, she came back into the room with a Mariners cap on and lugging a ball, bat, and glove.Meghan set a bowl of soup on the table and pointed at the chair.“Eat.”Erin wrinkled her nose and set her props in the corner.I got up and dug salami, olives, and pickled asparagus out of the fridge to round out the snack, and Erin ate her soup while we chatted.When she’d finished, she rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher.Meghan got up, and they both went upstairs.When they returned, Erin’s hair was gooed down to her skull and tucked into the back of her collar.Meghan had drawn thin sideburns and a narrow moustache on her heart-shaped face with eyebrow pencil and smudged a hint of a beard across her chin.Erin put on her shades and struck a pose, then bent to put on her tennis shoes.“That’d be easier if you could see what you were doing,” I said.She ignored me, squinting, but after a few more moments gave up and removed the sunglasses.Meghan looked up.“Ready?”“Uh huh,” Erin said, gathering her baseball paraphernalia.Barr cocked his head.“What’s on the ball?”Erin held it up, turning it in order to see better.“Just a bunch of names.”“Let me see,” he said.She brought him the ball.As I leaned closer, he rotated it so we could see all the signatures.“Where did you get this?” he asked, reverence in his voice.“Walter gave it to me.He made me promise not to play with it, but since I don’t actually like to play baseball, that was okay.And this isn’t playing with it, is it?” She seemed worried.Meghan had been watching Barr’s face.“What is it?”He took a deep breath.“I think it’s a 1927 World Series ball.Yankees—see, here’s Ruth, and Meusel, and Gehrig.Lazzeri, Huggins, Pennock.” He looked up.“If it’s real, it’s worth at least twenty grand.”Meghan’s eyes widened.“He gave me other ones, too,” Erin said.“I just thought they were plain old baseballs.”Barr stood up.“Where are they?”Erin leading the way, we all trooped up to her room.She knelt and dug into the junk on the floor of her closet, pulling out four more baseballs.All had signatures.Barr identified one as a Yankee World Series ball from 1928, and another from 1932.The other two he wanted to have someone look at.In fact, he said, we should have the balls appraised by a professional and then put them in a safety deposit box [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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