the old woman. Except that now Sully was seated at the counter talking to Cass as if he'd forgotten all about Rub and the booth. To make matters worse, several people had come in and were waiting near the door for a booth to be vacated. They kept looking at Rub, all alone in his big one. Had the stool next to Sully been empty Rub would have made for it, but that stool was occupied, which meant he had to choose between sitting alone at a booth for six and not having a place to sit at all.
His deeply furrowed expression suggested that the conundrum might be causing a cranial blood clot.
"He has been even more pathetic than usual this fall," Cass had to admit.
"He was in here earlier looking for you."
"I figured."
"He ask you yet?" Sully shook his head.
"He keeps getting interrupted. In another minute or two he'll cry." Indeed, Rub looked to be on the verge of tears when Sully finally relented and waved him over.
Jumping up quickly, he came toward them at a trot, like a dog released from a difficult command.
"There's no stool," he said as soon as he arrived.
Sully swiveled on his, a complete circle.
"You know what? You're right."
The people waiting by the door made for the booth Rub had vacated. Rub sighed deeply as he watched them take possession.
"What was wrong with the booth?"
"Nothing," Sully told him.
"Not a goddamn thing. Booths are great, in fact." Rub threw up his hands. The look on his face was pure exasperation.
"Think a minute," Sully reminded him.
"What'd you just do for me over at the house?" Rub thought.
"Tied your shoe," he suddenly remembered.
"Which means?" Sully prompted. Cass set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Sully and asked Rub if he wanted any.
"Don't interrupt," Sully told her.
"He's deep in thought."
"I never minded tying your shoe," Rub said.
"I know your knee's hurt.
I didn't forget." This last was delivered so unconvincingly that Sully and Cassexchanged glances.
"You want some coffee?" Sully said.
"Okay," Rub said sadly.
"I just don't see how come you can sit in her booth and not in the one down there." His face was flushed with the effort to understand.
"And how come you can sit on a stool, but not in a booth?" Sully couldn't help grinning at him.
"I wish I could give you this knee for about fifteen minutes," he said.
"Hell, I'd take it," Rub said earnestly, shaming Sully with his customary sincerity.
"I just wisht there was someplace for me to sit here at the counter, is all. We could have both sat over there in that booth." Both Sully and Cass were grinning at him now, and after a few seconds of being grinned at. Rub had to look at the floor. He was devoted to Sully and just regretted that, with Sully, whenever there were three people, it ended up two against one, and Rub was always the one. Sully could stare and grin at you forever, too, and when he did this Rub got so self-conscious he had to look down at the floor.
"We going back to work?" he said finally, for something to say. Sully shrugged.
"You think we should?" Rub nodded enthusiastically.
"Okay," Sully said.
"As long as you're not too worried." Rub frowned.
"About what?"
"About my bad knee. The one you never forget about. I thought you might be worried I'd hurt it again." Rub wasn't at all sure how to respond to this. He could think of only two responses--no, he wasn't too worried, and yes, he was worried. Neither seemed quite right. He knew he was supposed to be worried. If true, this meant he was expected to hope they didn't go back to work, something Rub couldn't really hope, because he'd missed working with Sully a great deal this fall and hated working with his cousins collecting trash, almost as much as they hated letting him.
North Bath had recently suspended trash collection as a city service, leading to entrepreneurial daring on the part of Rub's relatives, who had for generations worked for the sanitation department. Last year they'd purchased the oldest and most broken down of the town's
His deeply furrowed expression suggested that the conundrum might be causing a cranial blood clot.
"He has been even more pathetic than usual this fall," Cass had to admit.
"He was in here earlier looking for you."
"I figured."
"He ask you yet?" Sully shook his head.
"He keeps getting interrupted. In another minute or two he'll cry." Indeed, Rub looked to be on the verge of tears when Sully finally relented and waved him over.
Jumping up quickly, he came toward them at a trot, like a dog released from a difficult command.
"There's no stool," he said as soon as he arrived.
Sully swiveled on his, a complete circle.
"You know what? You're right."
The people waiting by the door made for the booth Rub had vacated. Rub sighed deeply as he watched them take possession.
"What was wrong with the booth?"
"Nothing," Sully told him.
"Not a goddamn thing. Booths are great, in fact." Rub threw up his hands. The look on his face was pure exasperation.
"Think a minute," Sully reminded him.
"What'd you just do for me over at the house?" Rub thought.
"Tied your shoe," he suddenly remembered.
"Which means?" Sully prompted. Cass set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Sully and asked Rub if he wanted any.
"Don't interrupt," Sully told her.
"He's deep in thought."
"I never minded tying your shoe," Rub said.
"I know your knee's hurt.
I didn't forget." This last was delivered so unconvincingly that Sully and Cassexchanged glances.
"You want some coffee?" Sully said.
"Okay," Rub said sadly.
"I just don't see how come you can sit in her booth and not in the one down there." His face was flushed with the effort to understand.
"And how come you can sit on a stool, but not in a booth?" Sully couldn't help grinning at him.
"I wish I could give you this knee for about fifteen minutes," he said.
"Hell, I'd take it," Rub said earnestly, shaming Sully with his customary sincerity.
"I just wisht there was someplace for me to sit here at the counter, is all. We could have both sat over there in that booth." Both Sully and Cass were grinning at him now, and after a few seconds of being grinned at. Rub had to look at the floor. He was devoted to Sully and just regretted that, with Sully, whenever there were three people, it ended up two against one, and Rub was always the one. Sully could stare and grin at you forever, too, and when he did this Rub got so self-conscious he had to look down at the floor.
"We going back to work?" he said finally, for something to say. Sully shrugged.
"You think we should?" Rub nodded enthusiastically.
"Okay," Sully said.
"As long as you're not too worried." Rub frowned.
"About what?"
"About my bad knee. The one you never forget about. I thought you might be worried I'd hurt it again." Rub wasn't at all sure how to respond to this. He could think of only two responses--no, he wasn't too worried, and yes, he was worried. Neither seemed quite right. He knew he was supposed to be worried. If true, this meant he was expected to hope they didn't go back to work, something Rub couldn't really hope, because he'd missed working with Sully a great deal this fall and hated working with his cousins collecting trash, almost as much as they hated letting him.
North Bath had recently suspended trash collection as a city service, leading to entrepreneurial daring on the part of Rub's relatives, who had for generations worked for the sanitation department. Last year they'd purchased the oldest and most broken down of the town's
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