The Mine (10 page)

Joel had seen pictures of wooden classics numerous times in boating magazines. But on his twenty-second birthday, he got to pilot one for the better part of an afternoon.

"Thanks," he said as he powered the craft into open water near the southern tip of Mercer Island. "This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

"Don't mention it. Besides, it's your birthday. You're supposed to have fun."

"Thanks for the other stuff too." Joel throttled down and turned to face his friend. "You didn't have to take me in and your dad didn't have to give me a job. I might still be walking the streets looking for work had you not given me a break."

"I seem to recall that you rescued me first," Tom said, laughing. "Either way, it's no big deal. We're happy to have you. Dad thinks you're the best salesman on the planet, Mom wants to adopt you, and Brenda wants to bear your children. That's what I call a productive week."

Twenty minutes later Joel brought the vessel to a stop and dropped anchor off the west side of the island. In the distance, streams of automobiles crossed the eleven-month-old Lake Washington floating bridge. A second, more northerly span, connecting Seattle with its eastside suburbs, would not be built for another twenty-two years.

Joel climbed out of the deep cockpit and plopped onto the enclosed midsection of the speedboat, where he took off a gray sweatshirt, stretched out on one of Sandy Carter's guest towels, and welcomed his daily dose of Vitamin D. With the mercury mired in the high sixties, the mid-afternoon sun was a welcome sight.

"Tom, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"No. What do you want to know?"

"How serious are you and Ginny?"

"Why? Do you want to date her?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that. Not that there's anything wrong with her. She's quite a woman. It's just that you two seem like kind of an odd couple."

Tom sighed, relieved that Seattle's most eligible bachelor did not have his sights on his girl. Sitting on a newly upholstered seat in back, he put his hands behind his head.

"We
are
an odd couple," he said. "I know as much about journalism as she does about business, and our personalities are polar opposites. About the only things we have in common are martinis, baseball, and this boat. But we get along great."

"Do you see yourselves getting married?"

"Who knows? Right now, I can't see myself growing up."

Joel laughed.

"Seriously, I don't know. We'll see how things look in a year. She might run off with her editor, or I might have two dames on each arm. Now, wouldn't that be a sight?"

Joel smiled and tried to think of other things. But getting close to Tom had made that difficult. Since meeting his once and future grandmother, he had obsessed over a bit of family trivia his mother had shared when he was seventeen, information that meant little in 1995 but meant a whole lot more today.

Virginia Gillette's first fiancé had died in World War II.

Joel could not help but ponder the possibilities should that fiancé turn out to be Tom Carter. If he saved Tom's life by steering him away from the Army, or even the war itself, he might meddle with his own existence. If Grandma Ginny does not meet and marry Grandpa Joe, there is no daughter Cindy or grandson Joel. Would he vanish into thin air like Marty McFly? Or continue on his merry way in a parallel universe? Joel knew now why people passed up philosophy classes. This stuff could fry your circuits. The grandfather paradox took on new relevance.

Ginny Jorgenson's grandson found another story line far more comforting. Maybe Tom was not the one. Maybe his new friend was just a brief, colorful chapter in the life of a remarkable, strong-willed, and stridently independent woman.

Joel gave the matter a little more thought and then cast it aside like an undersized sockeye. There was no point fretting over a boyfriend of two months or predicaments that may or may not be dire. He rolled onto his stomach, repositioned borrowed shorts that were a tad too loose, and let the fire in the sky do its work.

The world was becoming a complicated place. But on his twenty-second birthday, Joel Smith of Seattle reduced it to a nap.

CHAPTER 26

Thomas Alvin Carter's graduation party was two parts wedding reception and one part ticker-tape parade, with a dash of polka hall.

When guests arrived, they walked past purple balloons attached to hedges and a "Congratulations, Tom!" banner that stretched fifteen feet. When they entered the large lawn in back, they navigated a maze of ten cloth-covered tables, wet bars, barbecue grills, and food stations. A suitcase-sized cake competed with pagoda-style candle lanterns and a happy guy named Dick who played requests on a squeezebox. Sandra Carter, it seemed, knew more than fried chicken.

"You never cease to amaze, Mom," the graduate said.

"Thank you, honey, but the accordion was your father's idea. You know he can't host a party without putting his stamp on something."

On the other side of the yard, Melvin Carter rushed to a smoky grill temporarily managed by his twenty-year-old nephew, Lawrence, while his teenaged niece, Lauren, and Brenda Carter guided guests to their tables. To the west, a setting sun illuminated similar outdoor parties in the university district as a slight breeze kept mosquitoes at bay.

"It's perfect." Tom kissed his mother on the forehead and surveyed the celebration in his honor. More than sixty relatives, friends, schoolmates, and business associates had already streamed through the door. "Where's Joel? The store closed two hours ago."

"He was here. He got all cleaned up and everything, but then he left. Your father paid him yesterday. Maybe he went to the store. I really don't know."

"That's OK. I'm sure I'll see him later. I have a lot of other people to greet. It looks like Dad invited half the city."

"He did," Sandy said. "He's very proud of you, and so am I. Go enjoy your party."

* * * * *

Joel had not exercised this kind of time management since he had organized Adam's twenty-first birthday party at the Strip 'n' Whip eight months earlier.

After selling a washing machine at closing time to a woman who wanted to know if R2-D2 removed berry stains, he raced to the Airstream, showered, and donned some fancy, time-appropriate duds he had picked up on Friday. From there he walked to a nearby drug store and purchased a greeting card and a current copy of the
Seattle Sun
. He returned to the Carters in time to find Tom delivering a pitcher of beer to Ginny and two others gathered around a picnic table covered with a checked tablecloth.

Tom greeted Joel as he walked back toward a buffet table loaded with burgers, hot dogs, chicken breasts, salads, corncobs, desserts, and Sandra Carter's famous biscuits. A toothy smile spread across his face, followed by hearty laughter.

"Where did you steal those?"

"Very funny. I bought them. I got paid yesterday. Remember?"

Joel had upgraded his attire. Wearing a red pinstriped shirt, orange tie, gray vest, matching cuffed wide-legged trousers, and two-tone Oxfords, he looked like a man trying to bridge two decades on a salesman's salary and a college student's imagination. No more cowboy hats and Candy in Chains for him.

"It's not the most coordinated outfit I've seen today, but you look sharp. You're going to turn some heads tonight, buddy. Let me get you a drink."

"You can in a minute. First, let me give you something." Joel reached in a vest pocket, pulled out an envelope containing a card, and handed it to Tom. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. But you shouldn't waste money on me. I have everything I need – maybe even new wheels. I suspect that that new Plymouth convertible parked behind the trailer has my name on it, and all because I didn't flunk out of school."

Brenda Carter approached stealthily from the side in bare feet, slowing to a stop to study Joel's revamped duds. She wore a pink cotton dress and a mischievous grin.

"You look nice, Joel. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," he said. "You look nice, too, Brenda – very nice."

"Thanks." She blushed and dawdled for a few seconds before skipping off to the kitchen to help her mother and her cousin.

Joel couldn't help but smile at all the attention she had thrown his way. She would need lion tamers to keep the men away when she went to UCLA in the fall. But for now, he was her sun and her moon – the unattainable cowboy with a knack for selling sofas and assembling creative outfits off of discount store racks.

Tom opened the card and laughed at the message. When he returned the card to the envelope, he noticed a slip of paper inside. It was the clipping of a newspaper article. The headline read: CONN, LOUIS SET FOR TITLE SCRAP.

"What's this? Did you buy tickets or something? That fight is at the Polo Grounds in New York. Tell me you didn't blow your first check on a fight you can't see."

"I didn't," Joel said. He smiled and put his hand on Tom's shoulder. "I just wanted to do something for the man who has everything."

"Well, I appreciate you keeping me informed. But I knew about the fight. Half the world knows about it. I plan on listening to it after work on Wednesday."

"I was counting on that. Do you know a crowded drinking establishment that will carry the broadcast, round by round?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. But let's talk about that later. You need a drink, my friend, and there are some people I want you to meet."

CHAPTER 27

Tom and Joel swaggered across the lawn like Napoleon and his aide-de-camp inspecting the grounds at Versailles. When they approached the picnic table, they found Virginia Gillette puffing on a cigarette, holding a lager, and ruling her roost of three. She brightened at the sight of her male caller and his colorfully attired companion.

"Now that's what I call a sharp-dressed man. How are you, Joel?"

"I couldn't be better, Miss Gillette. I feel like a bee's knees."

Ginny and the others laughed uproariously, sending Joel into an unexpected retreat. He had wanted to practice his forties slang all week but now wondered whether he had botched his first test by saying something that probably meant, "I feel constipated." He gritted his teeth, stepped back, and sought a quick exit.

"That's good to hear," Ginny said. "Perhaps you can buzz for us later."

The girls giggled.

Tom smiled but did not pile on. He appeared focused on something else. He stepped behind his girlfriend, snared a pickle off her plate, and nodded, as if to suggest that marinated cucumbers were the bee's knees. When he finished chewing, he turned to the other young women at the table. Both looked past Tom to his sidekick.

"Ladies, this is Joel Smith. He just moved to the area and has been living with us the past few days." He put a hand on Joel's shoulder and slapped it twice. "Joel, this is Linda McEwan and Katie Kobayashi. Both are seniors at the university and will be sharing a house with Ginny this year. In fact, I think they move in tomorrow."

"Monday," Ginny said. "We can't move in until Monday."

"I stand corrected."

The women stood up and took turns greeting the late arrival.

"It's nice to meet you," Linda said, painting her target with luminous green eyes. She placed a highball glass on the table, next to a full beer and an empty bottle, and extended her right hand. "Ginny told us a lot about you. I see it's all true."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Joel said, with a nervous laugh. "She didn't tell me a thing about you, though. Had I known she had such ravishing roommates, I wouldn't have spent so much time hanging around this lug."

The girls smiled and turned toward Ginny.

"Where did you find this guy?" Linda asked. "I'm ready to take him home!"

"Tom can fill you in on that," Ginny said. She grinned and took a puff. "You may not want to know."

Joel glared at Grandma for a few seconds before casting more sweetness and light on her court. He would have to exercise caution around Virginia Gillette. Skeptical, dogged, and inquisitive, she was no doubt on to him.

Perhaps sensing an opportunity, maybe her only opportunity, to step out of the shadows, the quiet member of the trio leaned toward Joel and offered a hand.

"I'm Katie, by the way, in case you haven't figured it out."

"Hi, Katie."

Joel noted the mirthful eyes of the friendly Japanese girl in the lavender sundress. Gentle and benign, they contrasted sharply with the more covetous peepers of the curvy, freckled redhead at Ginny's side. Wearing a crisp white blouse and floral skirt, Linda McEwan was Smiling Sarah's more assertive and no doubt lethal twin.

"Ginny says you're from Montana," Linda said, eyes still locked and loaded.

"Yes, ma'am," Joel said. "I'm from Helena, the state capital."

"He's also a rancher," Ginny added with a wink.

"A rancher? Oh, my," Linda said. "Where's your cowboy hat, cowboy?"

"In the trailer," Joel said.

"Why don't you get it? I want to see how it looks on you."

"Maybe later. It's resting now."

And riding shotgun with Candy in Chains.

Linda switched from her gin fizz to her draft beer as if they were the same drink, never taking her eyes off Thomas Carter's newest pal. After two disastrous relationships in as many years, she appeared ready to test the third-time-is-a-charm theory.

"So what brings you out here?"

"Economic opportunity. Tom's father has been kind enough to employ me at his furniture store, and I have to admit it beats roping steers."

Ginny took another puff and flashed Joel a smile that said, "You're good but not that good."

"I'll bet it does," Linda said. "I haven't been in Carter's in a long time. I may have to stop by and buy a lamp or something."

"You do that. I'll give you all the help I can."

"I'd like that."

Tom plucked another pickle from Ginny's plate.

"Ginny and Linda are sorority sisters. So is their other housemate. Kappa Delta Alpha to the core," he said. He examined his nearly empty schooner of beer and turned to Ginny. "Where is Grace, anyway? I know she was invited."