He was finishing a superset on the butterfly machine in the home gym at his parents’ lavish home when his pager went off. He finished his last set, wiped his face with a towel, and tossed it over his shoulder, grabbing the 32-ounce water bottle he’d been using throughout his workout. He guzzled it down all at once. He then went into the small office in the corner of the basement and called the designated number.
“What took so long? You’re required to answer immediately when you are paged.”
“I’m calling now,” Owen Randall answered back, annoyance in his voice, but knowing he needed to hold his tongue. “What’s this about? I’m not short this week and if I am, then somebody’s skimming. I haven’t been short in over three months.”
“That’s not what this is about. It pleases me, however, that you have concern over such things.” “Well, then, what is this about?” Owen’s brow furrowed.
“I received some interesting information from one of my associates that there has been activity on your woman. Have you heard anything?”
“She’s not my woman. She wasn’t ever really my woman. I haven’t had anything to do with her for almost a year.” Perhaps if he claimed ignorance, the past would be forgotten.
“That’s just it. It’s something you left hanging and I don’t like loose ends, Randall. I don’t like them at all. Loose ends need to be dealt with.”
“What have you heard? What’s going on?”
“She was seen by one of your former associates at a dinner in Marquette, Michigan. Were you aware that’s where she re-located?”
“No, I wasn’t. What am I supposed to do about it? It’s over. She named me. They investigated. The right people were bought off and I was cleared. There’s nothing more I can do.” He said this, although Owen knew that he’d be asked to do more once Etta had surfaced after disappearing months ago. He had hoped she would never re-surface and never be found.
“She knows about the drugs and she knows who I am. She can associate you with me and that is unacceptable. Our association must never see the light of day. There can never be a hint of impropriety. Do you understand?”
“She doesn’t know, man. You’re being paranoid. She doesn’t. She was out of it, she didn’t know who anybody was. She didn’t know what you were. We had her doped so she wouldn’t remember a thing.” “I’m not willing to take that chance and I won’t allow you to take that chance either.” There was a pause on the line. “I want this handled, Owen. Have I made myself clear? This problem needs to go away, permanently. I expect you to deal with this. So far, you’ve disappointed me in this area.”
“You can’t ask me to do that. There are limits.” Although he’d sold his soul to the devil, a man had to have a conscience. There was such a thing as basic right and wrong.
“Oh, are there limits? Perhaps there are limits on my loyalty to you as well. Should we test the limits of our relationship, Randall? Is that what will be required?”
“Fuck, no.” Owen couldn’t believe what was being asked of him. How in the hell could he take this big of a step? He’d hire it out. Why should he get his hands dirty? It was the road to hell or twenty-five-to-life, whichever came first. “I’ll take care of it. It may take a while, but I’ll take care of it.”
“See that you do.” The line went dead. A two-minute conversation that had the potential to destroy his life, no matter what he did. “Shit,” Owen muttered. He went back to pump some more iron. Perhaps if he worked up a sweat, he’d figure some way out of this mess. There had to be a way.
* * *
Etta pulled into the first available parking space, after waiting in the dreary rain for an elderly couple to pull out, windshield wipers waving in their steady rhythm. Parking spaces were at a premium on the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving. She put the car in park, turned to her passengers, Peggy, Gabby and Sophie. “All right, troops. Here’s the plan of attack. If we split up the effort, this will go much faster.” She handed a list back to Sophie. “Peggy, you and Gabby have a full night ahead of you and a busy day tomorrow if you’re going to bake enough pie for everyone, so we have to get to it. Your mission, you two,” pointing at Sophie and Gabby with a deadpan face, trying to keep her face looking serious, “if you choose to accept it, is to get everything on this list, and we’ll get everything on ours. We’ll meet in thirty minutes in the bread aisle at the front of the store to assess the situation, compare lists and regroup before heading to checkout. Any questions?” Etta paused for dramatic effect. The other women were silent. “Go forth, divide and conquer.” She lifted her fist in the air in a “charge”-type of gesture.
“Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir.” Sophie and Gabby giggled, whipped off a quick salute and all of the girls hopped out of the car. Sophie and Gabby ran into the store, avoiding the rain as much as possible, laughing at Etta’s absolutely ridiculous military-style of shopping.
Peggy looked over at Etta questioningly, as they made their way past the hordes of shoppers going to and from the grocery store. “You’re taking this very seriously, but they just want to have fun. Are you sure they’ll be able to handle this? They seem much more interested in screwing around than getting groceries.”
“They’re young, Peggy. You have to let them have their fun. They’ll pull their weight. Besides, if they don’t, we’ll get what they miss later.”
“I suppose you’re right. That mission statement was a bit over-the-top, though, wasn’t it?”
Etta shrugged and pulled out an empty cart from the corral, picked up a sales flyer to clip coupons as they walked thru the aisles. “Besides, this way we get some time alone, which we haven’t had since I picked you up at the bus station.”
“Thank you, by the way, for going with the flow. I just knew I’d never get my car up here without a breakdown. Well, I didn’t know, but I certainly fear it. Fear is a powerful motivator. And I didn’t mind taking the bus. It wasn’t really that bad.”
The two women continued their discussion as they made their way through the produce section. “It was no problem. It’s too bad you’ll lose two days of your week away on traveling but I’m sure it’s a load off your mind not to worry about your car. And you know it’ll be in one piece when you get back. Can you grab a bag of cranberries? I think we’ll need at least two heads of lettuce. I was planning on a simple salad, maybe just lettuce, a little vinaigrette. All I’ll need for that is some garlic.” She picked up a bulb and sniffed it.
“Yeah, I’m glad we’re alone too. So what’s been going on with you and Tom?”
Looking over her list, one item at a time, Etta said, “Let’s see: parsley, rosemary, chives, yams, two bags of russets, a bag of red onions, celery, french-fried onions. I gave the girls dairy and meat. We have produce and dry goods, including everything you need for pies. Are you sure you want to do pies?” Etta was grabbing items and throwing them into the cart with wild abandon.
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s my specialty. And you’re trying to change the subject. You said you had that dream and feelings towards him, whatever that means. Have you done anything about it? There’s clearly something stirring between you. You could cut the tension with a knife last night.”
“It’s that obvious?” Etta put more items into the cart as they headed towards the canned vegetable aisle. “Four cans of green beans.”
Peggy pulled the cans from the shelf and loaded them in the cart. “Oh, I love green bean casserole. And yes, it’s obvious. Well, maybe if you hadn’t told me it might have taken me ten minutes to figure it out.”
Etta heaved a deep sigh. “Crap. I thought I was hiding it better. Grab the mushroom soup for the beans, two cans and we might as well get some chicken broth.”
“Well, even if you were hiding it, he’s not. He pretty much can’t take his eyes off of you.” The women turned the corner to head down the baking aisle.
“Really? You think so?” They put some condensed milk and five pounds of flour in the cart.
“Yeah, I do. In case you haven’t noticed, and I don’t think you have, it’s a mutual thing you’ve got going, so you need to do something about it,” she said as she grabbed two cans of pumpkin pie filling. “Do you have the spices for pumpkin pie? You know, nutmeg, cinnamon?”
“Yup, I made pumpkin muffins last week, a new recipe.” Etta stopped for a minute, leaning on the cart, putting her face in her hands. “What am I gonna do, Peggy? I’m scared … well, I just don’t …”
“You’re flustered. You’ll talk to him, well, maybe you’ll do more than talk to him and work it out. You’ve got the hots for each other. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”
“I’m just --- well, I haven’t been with anyone since …”
“Cripes, Etta! Is that what you’re hung up on?” She gripped Etta by the shoulder, looking at her straight in the face. “What do you think he’s gonna do? Take you unwillingly? From what I’ve seen you’re both pretty damned willing and practically jumping the table.” She pushed Etta aside and started pushing the cart. “You gotta get a grip. It isn’t like you don’t know how it works. I mean, you had sex before that scumbag. You’ll do it again, that’s all.”
Etta stood flabbergasted for a minute as Peggy walked down the aisle with the cart. Perhaps she’s right. Maybe her mind was doing summersaults that just weren’t necessary. She rushed to catch up with her. “I’m making too much of it?”
“Of course. You’re both wound up tight as a spring. It’s not good to let things build like you have. You’ll feel what you feel. Maybe it’ll be uncomfortable for a while, but then it’ll come back to you like riding a bike and it’ll feel fine. It’ll feel good. Remember, sex feels good. You’ll get that ooey-gooey feeling and things will work naturally.” She stopped as she grabbed a bag of marshmallows, held them up. “You do need this, right?”
“The marshmallows?”
“No, not the marshmallows. I saw those on the list. You need the release, don’t you?”
Etta nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
Peggy kept walking down the aisle. “You just need to get back on the horse that threw ya. Ha-ha, get it. Back on the horse.” Peggy was grinned a malicious smile, lifted her eyebrows a couple of times, suggestively.
Etta’s lips curved up in a smile. “Okay, okay. And very funny, farm girl. Leave it to you to make animal analogies.” They kept strolling, throwing items on their list into the cart as they went. “You’re right. Pick yourself up, wipe yourself off, start all over again. Come on, let’s keep going. We’ve got many miles to go before we sleep.”
Etta and Peggy made their way through their entire list with five minutes left to spare, made their way to the front to meet Gabby and Sophie. “Were we really supposed to get two 10-pound turkeys, Etta? Isn’t that a lot of turkey?” Gabby asked.
“Well, you Donatos do a whole lot of eating. There’s going to be eighteen with your whole family, my dad, Murphy, Donovan and Epstein. Your mom said one pound per person, but I think she wants leftovers.”
The girls compared their lists, checked out, loaded up and made their way back to the house for an evening of pop music on the radio, baking and laughter. It was midnight by the time four pies were done, two pumpkin, one cherry and one apple. Etta and Peggy fell flat in bed, laughing and exhausted.
* * *
“Murphy, if you steal one more marshmallow, there won’t be enough for the yams. Then do you know what you get?” Izzy said, slapping his hand as he reached around her as she was distributing a seasoned butter mixture in the yams.
“Marshmallow-less yams?” He was undaunted, laughing, sneaking around her with his other long arm, grinning a wry smile, popping another one in his mouth.
“Yams nobody will eat. They’re better with marshmallows. I’ll send all the leftovers home with you, ya weirdo. Seriously, Murph, out of the kitchen. Now.” She turned, pushed against his broad chest and made a sweeping motion with both hands. “Scoot. And don’t come back until it’s time to eat. You can’t be trusted.”
Murphy grudgingly sauntered out the kitchen door, with a false pout, winking at her on his way out. Etta glanced over from the sink, grinned as she continued on with the seemingly never-ending job of peeling potatoes. The oven was full with two turkeys, stuffed to the gills, a green bean casserole, extra stuffing and Izzy was about to put in the yams. She opened the oven door and placed her dish carefully into the crowded oven. “There, I’m done with my bit and I’m exhausted. I’ve earned a little R&R. I’m gonna go lie down for a quickie nap. See ya later,” then turned and headed up the stairs towards her room.
Everything seemed to be “in hand”. The men of the gathering were watching the Macy’s parade on TV, with Glen Staley in the lounger, Brian and Epstein on the couch, Mr. Donato on the end with a plate of carrots, celery and dip on his lap. The two fathers were deep in a discussion about the afternoon’s football match-up. Anthony, who preferred to be called Anthony rather than Tony Jr., one of the two other Donovan brothers, was curled up in a beanbag in the corner, reading a book.
The house was otherwise, a cacophony of noise and chaos. It seemed like there were people everywhere. The Donatos had brought an early Christmas present with them, a full-sized keyboard which had been setup in the dining room. They knew that Gabby missed playing piano in her own home and since they’d gotten a good deal, it was convenient to bring it for a Thanksgiving surprise. Gabby and two of the younger girls were playing to their hearts’ content, with Peggy and Mrs. Donato watching over.
Suddenly Tom burst through the front door, holding his youngest 9-year-old brother, Ray, over his shoulder, his feet wiggling in the air. He came into the dining room. “Where would you like this one, ma’am?” he asked, standing before his mother. Barbara Donato, the matriarch of the large family, was a beautiful woman in her mid50s with long, doe-brown hair she’d pulled neatly into a tidy bun, with cascading wisps of hair at the sides. She had only a few hints of creases in her face and amber eyes that glowed with love for her family.
“Whatever you do, don’t put him down like that. He’s filthy. Would you mind taking him and your own kind to get the extra chairs we brought from the back of the van, Tommy? We could use a few more chairs for the kiddy table.”
Sarah, the 14-year-old Donato sister spoke up, “Oh, Ma, do you have to call it the kiddy table? Isn’t it embarrassing enough to have to sit there with the rugrats? Do we have to call it that too?”
“Well that’s what it’s called, dear. And, Tom, clean that one up a bit before he comes back in, will you? At least wipe off the outer layer.”
“Sure thing, Ma. Come on, runt. Let’s go get some chairs.” Tom turned and walked out, lightly punching Murphy on the shoulder on the way out. “You, too. Do some light lifting with me? I know there’s at least two more hiding out here in the bushes where I left them that can help haul some chairs.”
As Tom and Murphy stepped outdoors, the side entrance door in the kitchen opened and two younger sisters, Josie and Leah, came running into the house, giggling. They made their way through the kitchen and stomped up the stairs, no doubt heading for Izzy or their sisters’ room. They were having an awesome time hiding from Tom and Ray, constantly on the move.
Barbara glided into the kitchen, raising an arm as one of her daughters ran past her, seemingly unaware of the activity around her and walked up to Etta. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Etta looked up from the potato she was peeling. “We don’t want you to fuss, Mrs. Donato. It’s the kids cooking for parents today, if only to prove we can do it.”
“I wouldn’t be fussing, and I often enlist the kids help when it’s me doing the cooking. Turnabout is fair play. And please call me Barbara.”
“Well, as long as you asked. If you don’t mind, Mrs. – Barbara - I have a couple of heads of lettuce to dress. I made the salad dressing yesterday, but left the lettuce for today. There’s a big bowl up in the right-hand cupboard on the top shelf – oh, maybe that can wait for Tom.”
Barbara Donato went to the fridge, grabbed the two heads of lettuce then went back to the sink. She opened the packages and proceeded to open and clean the heads with amazing efficiency.
“Wow, you’re really good at that! How do you do that so fast?”
“A ridiculous amount of experience, Etta.” She turned to Etta and smiled. “I dress about fifty of these a day in the restaurant.” She calmly walked to the living room and asked, “Tony, can you come get a bowl for me?” then proceeded to continue on with rinsing, cleaning and shaking water from the heads of lettuce. In about two minutes, Tony Donato, Sr., came into the kitchen, stood behind his wife and said, “Where?” She glanced up at him, pointed to the cupboard, “Up there.” He reached up, pulled the bowl down from its spot, put it on the counter, then reached around his wife’s waist, snuggled up against her back and kissed her neck from behind, in a light kiss that only lasted a second, then let her go and went back to his spot in the living room. Tony was a tall man, with olive skin, dark smoldering eyes that he’d passed on to his son. He, too, had a full head of black hair, occasionally flecked with a few gray hairs and a small, neat moustache with a mischievous grin that he used most often on his wife.
“See how easy that is? Having a personal assistant is really quite handy,” she said to Etta, as she ripped and tore the lettuce into the bowl.
“Looks like there’s side benefits too.”
“Oh, yes. They’re pretty good side benefits of which I may have partaken too often.”
“Well, the evidence is all around you. I’m afraid you may not beat those charges.”
“Oh, you are a quick witted one. I like you!” She continued preparing the lettuce quietly for a few moments. “So, since it’s a mothers’ prerogative to ask after her children, why haven’t you been getting any side benefits since we’ve been here?”
Etta continued peeling a potato. “I’m sorry?”
“You and Tom. The longing glances, but not one peck. You don’t have to hide anything from us, you know. It’s okay.”
“Oh, well, it’s not like that, Mrs. – Barbara.” She stopped her peeling and rested her hands against the side of the sink. “We’re just friends. We run together.”
Barbara continued working on the salad for a long moment. “You don’t lie to your father like that, do you?” Their discussion had quickly gone from playful to serious.
Etta’s faced dropped in alarm. She stopped and turned towards Barbara. “Oh my – I’m not – No, of course not. We’re just – oh, crap.” Etta was now beyond flustered. What was she supposed to say to her? How could she justify the way she felt or explain the way things were?
Barbara gently took Etta’s elbow. “Relax. It’s okay. If you’re not doing anything about the way you feel then it’s none of my business.” She was silent for another moment as the two women worked. “So what’s wrong with him?”
Etta had gone back to peeling. “What do you mean?”
“Well, why not? Has he done something stupid? I tried very hard to raise a respectful, kind man, but you don’t know what they’re going to do when they leave home.”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that. Tom is a very nice man, Barbara.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Well, then, what’s the problem? It’s obvious there’s something there.”
“Is it?”
“Oh, my dear, I’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb.” She quickly finished up tearing the lettuce before her. “Never mind. You two will figure it out. I’m hereby no longer sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. I’m so sorry.” She patted her gently on the back, pulled out a small knife from a nearby drawer, went to the closet to pull an old newspaper from the garbage and sat down at the table, spreading out the newspaper. “Now, come sit down over here and bring those potatoes. You’ve been standing long enough. You and I will finish up peeling these and get them on to cook. I’ll be another set of hands for you. Many hands make light work.”
After the potatoes were boiled, Glen came in to help her whip them with butter and sour cream, adding chives at the last minute. Barbara called Tony in to carve the turkeys and the food was dished out between the two tables. Donovan and Epstein were designated as chaperones at the kid table. Before everyone was seated, they all gathered in the living room to join hands, Etta holding her father’s hand on one side and Tom’s on the other, with Tom holding his mother’s hand next to his father. It took a while for all of them to quiet down, coming from all their scattered spots and stop squirming. Tom said, “Dad, would you do the honors?”
“I’d be happy to. Let us pray.” All heads bowed. “We give you thanks, O Lord, for your bountiful blessings to us, the food we eat and for the feast before us today. Bless the hands that have prepared it and the mouths that shall receive it. Thank you for the roof over our heads, both here and at home, our friends and family, especially those gathered here today and those that couldn’t be here.” Etta squeezed both her dad and Tom’s hands. “We thank you for our health, our work and our play. Bring comfort, Lord, to those who are hungry, sick, alone or suffering, in war or peace or despair. Open our hearts to love.” Tom squeezed Etta’s hand. “We ask these things through Christ your son. Amen.” He slapped his palms together and said, “Okay. Let’s eat gang.”
They all sat down at their designated spots, Etta between her father and Peggy, Barbara and Tony at the head of the table and the older Donato kids along the side opposite of Etta. Sarah, for a change, was seated with the adults and looked somewhat bored. She, no doubt, grew tired of adult conversation and longed for the fun of the other children, so Etta and Peggy tried to keep her entertained.
Etta’s father asked, “Peggy, do you ever play anymore? You’re so talented. I know you didn’t choose to go to school for music, but from what I heard, you were quite good.”
“I play when I get a chance, but I don’t have a piano right now. Sometimes I go to a local church just to keep from getting rusty and beg them to let me play.”
Gabby spoke up, “You play? You’ve been watching all this time today and you didn’t play?”
“She more than plays, Gabby. She’s a virtuoso and was accepted at Julliard, weren’t you?” Etta smiled.
Daggers were shooting from Peggy to Etta. “Yeah, I was accepted at Julliard, but that doesn’t mean I could afford to go. Besides, I decided I didn’t want to be a little fish in a big pond. My father’s words, not mine.”
“Oh, that’s really too bad, Peggy.” Barbara said. “You must be very good to have made it that far. Would you give us a concert after dinner? I’d love to hear you play, wouldn’t you, Gabby?”
“I sure would. I keep trying, but I’ve never gotten to be very good. I just like to have fun with it, and the new keyboard is amazing. I just love it, mom and dad. Thank you so much for bringing it. It’ll be fun to play Christmas carols coming up to the holiday.”
The talk meandered around music, studies and work. The Donatos were experiencing the first Thanksgiving away from home since they opened their first pizzeria, in large point due to a new manager that had been hired in the past year, in which Tony had great confidence.
“How did last night’s rush go, Dad?” Tom asked.
“I called Bruce at home earlier and it was a late night with a few drunks that had to be sorted late, but otherwise, we survived. I can’t tell you how nice it was to avoid the busiest night of the year for a change.”
Mr. Staley jumped in. “The night before Thanksgiving is the busiest night of the year? I wouldn’t imagine.”
“Yes, always has been. While we’re happy and grateful to be here and feasting with our family, it’s amazing how many people are not feasting or alone or, on the other hand, grumpy to be with their not-so-favored family. They tend to drown their sorrows with pizza and beer the night before.” He took a big bite of turkey, speaking while he ate, “Mmmm. Always swamped.”
“Tony if you keep talking with your mouth full, you’ll go without dessert like the children. Good grief, set an example,” Barbara chimed in. All of the kids at the table sported wide smiles at her comment and muffled chuckles.
“Geez, Dad, you gonna let her talk to you like that?” Tom asked, with a grin that spoke of mischief.
“Yes, and don’t you go starting anything. You should know better. You know who rules the roost and always has.” He grabbed his wife’s hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “For 35 years I’ve been number two and happy to be there. Isn’t that so, number one?”
Barbara looked him in the eyes, “You old fool.” She then turned to Etta, “These are excellent mashed potatoes. You two do very good work. What’s your secret?”
Glen quickly added, “Love.” Pointing his fork in her direction, “Okay, love and butter.”
Etta said, “The same thing that’s in the pies that come later. Only then it’s Gabby and Peggy’s love.”
The conversations started drifting, splitting off and intermingling until there were too many to keep track. More than once during dinner and the clashing voices of chatting, Tom glanced across at Etta, watching the pure joy on her face to be surrounded by family and friends. Since he met her, he wasn’t sure he’d seen her quite this happy. Occasionally their eyes would meet and her heart would nearly jump in her chest. Her cheeks would blush, knowing that it wasn’t just her imagination, but everyone around them could see what lay in her heart. Yes, they would need to figure things out, and soon.
* * *
Following the meal, the men took back over the living room where one football game was ending and another was about to begin. The fathers had switched places. Josie, the youngest Donato had taken a spot on her father’s lap in the lounger, her head resting on his shoulder. It was a perfect picture of fatherly love, reminding Etta of a time before her mother had died. She was still cleaning up stray dishes, refilling drinks and generally playing hostess, while Izzy was busy doing dishes with two sisters in the kitchen. Barbara, Gabby and Peggy and a couple of others were in the dining room, taking in Peggy’s impromptu concert. Peggy hadn’t lost her edge at all. Her fingers still glided over the keys and made the most amazing sounds that were absolutely astounding. It really was too bad she hadn’t done more with her talent.
After the game was finished, Tom rose from the spot where he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, went into the dining room, leaned against the door frame, and asked Etta, “Up for running off some of what we just put on?” She looked up at the ceiling, thought for a moment, “Sure. Let me grab my runners.”
Tom went into the living room, yelling up the stairs, “Etta and I are going to run off our dinner to make room for dessert. Any takers need to be on the porch in five!” He went out on the porch and sat on the swing to chat with his sister, Sarah. Etta came down the steps, stopped to hug her father from behind, “I hope you don’t mind if I run off for a bit. I love having you here.”
“It’s fine with me. We men are enjoying the games. You go off and have fun,” he said, grabbing her hand and kissing it.
“Okay, dad. See you later,” she said, patting his chest from behind.
Donovan got up, stretched and made his way out to the porch. Etta walked out to meet him, “Are you coming along, Brian?”
“Yeah, you fed me too much. But I know, I know, there was no force feeding. It was just really good, Etta. You and Izzy are killing me with kindness.” He patted his back leisurely, then stepped out on the porch. As they spoke, Ray and Rachel came bounding out of the house, their tennis shoes in hand.
Etta sat in the rocker, pulling up her legs one at a time to tie her shoes, as Ray and Rachel sat on the top steps doing the same. “I can’t believe your mom had two sets of boy-girl twins. Imagine the odds,” she said, to Tom.
“Well, why mess with perfection?” he chuckled, rubbing his fingernails on his shirt.
“Oh, yes, the ego. I forgot.” Etta grinned at him. “Really, though, they’re like a younger carbon copy of you and Izzy. It’s really cute.”
“It’s kind of like two different families, the old version and the younger version, all in the name of attempting to get more boys.” Tom rose up, looked at his sister beside him. “Have you decided, Sarah? Coming along?” For some reason, Sarah was upset but Tommy seemed to be bringing her out of her funk. “Okay. I’ll go along. I like to run.”
Etta wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they trekked down the steps. “I’ve always liked running too. It can really help to take your mind off of things. You don’t need any equipment except the shoes on your feet. And you can run with someone else and make great friends, like your brother and I.”
“You guys run together? How do you keep up?”
“Oh, that’s not the question, Sarah. The question is, how does he keep up?” She flashed a wide smile, running backwards for a few paces, then swiveled and took off with a bur