Change-up by John Feinstein Page A

asked. “Or should we just split a pie?”
    “I think a couple of slices will be plenty for me,” Stevie said.
    “We’ll see about that,” Kelleher said.
    He ordered four slices and a couple of Cokes. Balancing the pizza on paper plates, drinks in their other hands, they continued down the hallway.
    “There’s tables and chairs in the middle of the building,” Kelleher said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find a place to sit.”
    The dining area had a vaulted ceiling and was gigantic, with tables and chairs in the middle, and tall tables around the edges where people could stand and eat.
    “Over there to the right,” Kelleher said, pointing. They began walking in that direction. Stevie was a step behind Kelleher when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar figure seated at a small table.
    It was Susan Carol. He’d know that ponytail anywhere.
    And sitting across from her was David Doyle. He was leaning forward in his chair and appeared to be talking with great feeling. Stevie stopped dead in his tracks, staring. Fortunately, David Doyle was so intent on his conversation with Susan Carol that he didn’t see Stevie. Stevie was pretty convinced that he could burst into flames andDavid wouldn’t notice because his eyes were so completely locked in on Susan Carol.
    Kelleher had apparently reached the table, put his food down, and then noticed that Stevie wasn’t behind him. He walked back to where Stevie was standing.
    “Stevie,” he said. “What’s up? Something wrong?”
    Unable to find his voice, Stevie simply gestured with his Coke hand in the direction of the table where Susan Carol and David were sitting.
    Kelleher looked. “Oh, it’s Susan Carol,” he said. “Who’s that she’s with?”
    “David Doyle,” Stevie said through clenched teeth.
    For a split second Kelleher didn’t respond. Then, apparently, he got it. “Okay,” he said calmly. “Come with me and let’s sit down before he notices you shooting daggers at him.”
    Stevie went. He wanted to do two things: find out what the hell was going on at that table and eat his pizza. For the moment, he would have to settle for the pizza.
    Stevie sat so he could see Susan Carol and managed to eat his pizza without ever taking his eyes off the two of them. They were both leaning forward as they talked, and although Stevie couldn’t be sure, he was convinced they were holding hands.
    “Let’s not overreact here,” Kelleher counseled. “There may be a perfectly simple explanation.”
    “Really?” Stevie said. “They just met this morning andlast saw each other all of two hours ago. What could possibly have happened to get them together here now, looking as if someone’s life was at stake.”
    Kelleher semi-laughed. “Given your history, isn’t it at least a possibility that someone’s life
is
at stake?” he said.
    Stevie had to concede Kelleher had a point. But he didn’t think it was likely. He had seen the way the two of them had looked at one another back at the Ritz.
    “I’m going over there,” he said, starting to stand up.
    “Oh, no you’re not,” Kelleher said, pulling him back down. “You’re going to sit here and eat your pizza and wait until later to see if Susan Carol tells you what happened on her own. If she doesn’t, then—and
only
then—do you consider asking her about it.”
    “But look at her!” Stevie said, exasperated.
    Kelleher glanced over his shoulder. Stevie might have told him not to look, except that there was no way either one of them was going to notice.
    “I will grant you,” Kelleher said, “that it doesn’t look great. But you have to admit that there have been many times when things were not what they appeared to be.”
    “Yeah, but … look at how he’s looking at her.”
    Kelleher smiled. “I know how you feel,” he said. “But you don’t know how
she’s
looking at him. Or why. So you’ve got to be patient.”
    He pointed at Stevie’s empty plate. Stevie had completely