think people would still recognize—”
“Course they would, Coach, but if you want me to tell em to leave you be and—”
“I’d rather no one even knows.”
“You got wheels? Well, course you do. You know the place. Park in the alley between Shipping and the water tower. I’ll be
waiting by the door. You coming now?”
“Right now.”
I stood and spun in a circle, wondering how I could tidy up the place fast. Bev, as usual, came to my rescue. “You have to
eat,” she said, hurrying in. “I’ll scrape the crust off this place and he’ll just have to accept the rest. Now sit and finish.”
I sat and wolfed as Bev swept off my credenza, the top of which I hadn’t seen in years, and dumped stuff into file cabinets
and onto shelves. “It’ll take him twenty minutes,” she said. “And we’re working with years of buildup here.”
I finished ten minutes later and tried to help her, but Bev just took my arm, pointed me and my fast-food trash toward a garbage
can in the hall, and kept working. When I returned my office looked halfway livable and she was spraying something that knocked
out the food smell. She pointed to my chair, I sat, and she picked up the phone and called reception.
“Ginny,” she said, “keep an eye on the driveway and give Mr. Sawyer’s phone one buzz when a car pulls in toward the receiving
dock. No trucks, just a car. Thank you.”
The wait seemed forever but I knew I couldn’t concentrate on one other thing anyway. When the buzz came, I leaped from the
chair and headed to the side door. On the way I said, “Bev, you’re the best.”
“Yeah,” she said, winking. “I know.”
There would have been no mistaking Buster Schuler, especially when he got out of his ancient blue Mustang. The mustache and
sideburns had gray in em and the eyes were wrinkled like a man even older than the coach had to be by now. But he wore the
same white shirt and tie and I daresay the same hat. I don’t believe I have ever seen him without a tie, not in the classroom
or on the field, even during practice. He looked pale and stooped.
He hurried up the concrete steps and shook my hand, patting me on the shoulder. “Aren’t you ever gonna get older?” he said,
forcing a smile but having trouble maintaining my gaze.
“I was about to say the same,” I said, leading him inside.
“You know I’ve never tolerated liars,” he said, not unkindly.
Bev nodded to him and took his hat, then left us alone in my office. I know all that management stuff about sitting next to
a guest rather than behind your desk so you even the playing field, but my office wasn’t big enough for more than one guest
chair. And when Coach Buster Schuler was in a room,
no
seating arrangement would level the playing field.
I sat, gripping the arms of my chair, tucked my chin, and looked at him with my eyebrows raised. We both knew this was no
social call, so I just waited. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder
in Bev’s direction. “You and her?” he said.
“Nah.”
He rubbed his palms together, clearly more nervous than I was. I knew he’d get to the point. He’d come this far.
“It’s Miz Schuler,” he said. “And I need your help.”
“Anything, Coach,” I said.
Coach suddenly looked stricken. “Where’s my manners?” he said. “How’s that little girl a yours?”
“That little girl’s a sophomore at Athens City,” I said.
“Rachel.”
I nodded, impressed.
“And I was so sorry about Estelle.”
“Thank you. I got your card.”
He nodded, looking miserable. “I’d say it’s been a lot of years,” he said. “But, believe me, I know how fresh a loss like
that feels.”
I nodded, waiting.
“Miz Schuler never forgave me.”
What could I say to that? I just pressed my lips together and shook my head.
“Most people don’t know that she had a problem long before we lost Jack. Long before I killed