devoured the two slices of pizza without even noticing.
“You want more?” Kelleher said.
“Absolutely,” Stevie said, starved, hurt, and angry all at once.
“Come on,” Kelleher said. “We’ll get some more and then go eat outside.”
Stevie started to argue, then stopped. This wasn’t the time for a confrontation. And as much as he wanted to know what was going on, he was fairly convinced that he wouldn’t like the answer.
7: UNANSWERED QUESTIONS
KELLEHER WAS SMART ENOUGH not to try to engage Stevie in further conversation. They walked outside with their fresh pizza slices, while happy throngs of Bostonians enjoyed the brisk October sunshine all around them.
“Just try not to jump to any conclusions until Susan Carol has a chance to explain what was going on,” Kelleher said as they rode the escalator back up to the hotel lobby. “I know that’s hard, but there’s no sense making yourself crazy over something that may turn out to be nothing.”
Stevie nodded. “I know you’re right,” he said. “But I’ve already jumped to about a million conclusions—none of them very appealing—and it’s pretty hard to unjump.”
Kelleher put his arm around Stevie. “Let’s just wait and see what we see,” he said.
Stevie went back to his room and turned on the TV. He sat watching some talking heads analyzing game one for the fiftieth time and then noticed a crawl on the bottom of the screen that said, “A published report claims that Norbert Doyle will start game two of the World Series tonight in place of Ross Detwiler. ESPN’s Peter Gammons reports that Nationals manager Manny Acta is refusing comment.”
Stevie couldn’t help but laugh. ESPN couldn’t confirm the story, so they had found a way to report it and make it sound shaky all at once.
His phone rang.
“You watching ESPN?” It was Kelleher.
“Yeah.”
“Typical of them. I love it.”
He hung up. Stevie tried to focus on what was being said on the screen but couldn’t. His mind kept flashing back to Faneuil Hall and the sight of David Doyle and Susan Carol talking. There
had
to be an explanation, right? But what in the world could it be? Several times he reached for the phone to call her but stopped himself. He would play it Kelleher’s way and see if she mentioned it without his asking.
The droning voices made him drowsy. He figured he would rest his eyes for five minutes. The next thing he knew, the phone was ringing. He looked at the clock and saw it was 3:30. Uh-oh, he was late.
“Stevie, where are you?” a voice said when he picked up. It was Susan Carol.
For a moment he forgot everything. “Sorry,” he said. “Fell asleep. Give me a couple minutes.”
“Hurry. Bobby and Tamara are here, and they’re ready to go.”
Stevie splashed some water on his face to wake up. Then he grabbed his jacket and his computer bag and raced to the door. He was in the jam-packed lobby five minutes after Susan Carol’s call.
“Catching up on your beauty rest?” Susan Carol said, giving him the Smile when he walked up to them.
“I guess I don’t have the energy some people have,” Stevie said, causing Kelleher to give him a look.
Stevie saw Tim McCarver, the longtime Fox TV analyst, crossing the lobby and heading in their direction. Stevie liked McCarver’s work, and he had a soft spot for him, since he had finished his playing career with the Phillies.
Every time he saw him, Stevie was reminded of a story his dad had told him. Near the end of McCarver’s playing days, his main job had been to catch Steve Carlton, the temperamental Hall of Fame pitcher. Carlton was so adamant about McCarver catching him that McCarver once said, “I think when Steve and I die, we’re going to be buried sixty feet, six inches apart”—that being the distance between the mound and home plate.
McCarver shook hands with Kelleher and Tamara and said, “Don’t think me rude, but I’m actually hoping you’ll introduce me to young Mr.
“You want more?” Kelleher said.
“Absolutely,” Stevie said, starved, hurt, and angry all at once.
“Come on,” Kelleher said. “We’ll get some more and then go eat outside.”
Stevie started to argue, then stopped. This wasn’t the time for a confrontation. And as much as he wanted to know what was going on, he was fairly convinced that he wouldn’t like the answer.
7: UNANSWERED QUESTIONS
KELLEHER WAS SMART ENOUGH not to try to engage Stevie in further conversation. They walked outside with their fresh pizza slices, while happy throngs of Bostonians enjoyed the brisk October sunshine all around them.
“Just try not to jump to any conclusions until Susan Carol has a chance to explain what was going on,” Kelleher said as they rode the escalator back up to the hotel lobby. “I know that’s hard, but there’s no sense making yourself crazy over something that may turn out to be nothing.”
Stevie nodded. “I know you’re right,” he said. “But I’ve already jumped to about a million conclusions—none of them very appealing—and it’s pretty hard to unjump.”
Kelleher put his arm around Stevie. “Let’s just wait and see what we see,” he said.
Stevie went back to his room and turned on the TV. He sat watching some talking heads analyzing game one for the fiftieth time and then noticed a crawl on the bottom of the screen that said, “A published report claims that Norbert Doyle will start game two of the World Series tonight in place of Ross Detwiler. ESPN’s Peter Gammons reports that Nationals manager Manny Acta is refusing comment.”
Stevie couldn’t help but laugh. ESPN couldn’t confirm the story, so they had found a way to report it and make it sound shaky all at once.
His phone rang.
“You watching ESPN?” It was Kelleher.
“Yeah.”
“Typical of them. I love it.”
He hung up. Stevie tried to focus on what was being said on the screen but couldn’t. His mind kept flashing back to Faneuil Hall and the sight of David Doyle and Susan Carol talking. There
had
to be an explanation, right? But what in the world could it be? Several times he reached for the phone to call her but stopped himself. He would play it Kelleher’s way and see if she mentioned it without his asking.
The droning voices made him drowsy. He figured he would rest his eyes for five minutes. The next thing he knew, the phone was ringing. He looked at the clock and saw it was 3:30. Uh-oh, he was late.
“Stevie, where are you?” a voice said when he picked up. It was Susan Carol.
For a moment he forgot everything. “Sorry,” he said. “Fell asleep. Give me a couple minutes.”
“Hurry. Bobby and Tamara are here, and they’re ready to go.”
Stevie splashed some water on his face to wake up. Then he grabbed his jacket and his computer bag and raced to the door. He was in the jam-packed lobby five minutes after Susan Carol’s call.
“Catching up on your beauty rest?” Susan Carol said, giving him the Smile when he walked up to them.
“I guess I don’t have the energy some people have,” Stevie said, causing Kelleher to give him a look.
Stevie saw Tim McCarver, the longtime Fox TV analyst, crossing the lobby and heading in their direction. Stevie liked McCarver’s work, and he had a soft spot for him, since he had finished his playing career with the Phillies.
Every time he saw him, Stevie was reminded of a story his dad had told him. Near the end of McCarver’s playing days, his main job had been to catch Steve Carlton, the temperamental Hall of Fame pitcher. Carlton was so adamant about McCarver catching him that McCarver once said, “I think when Steve and I die, we’re going to be buried sixty feet, six inches apart”—that being the distance between the mound and home plate.
McCarver shook hands with Kelleher and Tamara and said, “Don’t think me rude, but I’m actually hoping you’ll introduce me to young Mr.
Similar Books
