The Realm of Last Chances Read Online Free PDF Page A

through it.
    A lifelong resident of Montvale whose wire-rims might have made him look scholarly had he not been so big, Nowicki owned one of two hardware stores on Main Street. He was four or five years older than Matt and, like Frankie, had taken over the family business when his father retired. When people used the term “solid citizen,” they generally had someone like Paul in mind. For years he’d looked after his sister, who’d been born with some type of rare heart disease. You’d see him helping her into and out of the car, walking her to church, waiting for her at the doctor’s office. He never had a family of his own until she died, and everyone figured it was because of his devotion. If he refused to care for her, who would? “That’s just the kind of guy he is,” they’d say. He was an usher at Saint Patrick’s and a member of the board of selectmen. Because he’d always loved dogs, he helped establish the local chapter of PAWS, the Pets and Animal Welfare Society.
    As far back as Matt could recall, he’d been unable to think of Paul without also picturing the team of Clydesdales that pulled the Budweiser beer wagon in TV commercials. He was big, he was reliable; he did nothing purely for show. All right, hell: he was
noble
. The only problem was that a little over four years ago, he’d married Matt’s ex-wife and become stepfather to both of his daughters.
    Whether or not all activity ceased the moment Paul walked in, Matt would never know. He just knew that it seemed to. Later on, he couldn’t remember which customers were still present or if they appeared to be taking note, though he hoped not. “Hey, Paul,” he said, relieved that the words actually came out. “What can I do for you?”
    To his amazement Nowicki blushed, even the tip of his nose turning red. “I was wondering,” he said, “if I could speak to you in private? Would that be all right?”
    Matt turned to Frankie, who was taking a record amount of time to rewrap a chunk of hot ham, giving the task his fullattention. He acted as if he hadn’t heard the request, though he must have. Rather than ask him if it would be all right to step away, Matt pulled off his gloves, lifted the counter leaf and led Paul into the back room.
    The space was small and, with a man Nowicki’s size in there, crowded. Matt stood with his back to the counter where the char broiler rested. It felt like a defensive position.
    Paul pointed at the grill. “I didn’t know you guys cooked in here.”
    “Every now and then somebody’ll come in wanting a breakfast sandwich. That’s about the only thing we sell that needs to be cooked.”
    “Is it on the menu?”
    “No. But if you want one, Frankie’ll make it.”
    “That’s good to know. But of course that’s not what I came to talk about.”
    “I never thought it was.”
    Paul stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Look, Matt,” he said, “I try to stay out of here. You know that, don’t you? Before you went to work for Frankie, I probably came by three or four times a week. There’s not a better Italian sub anywhere.”
    Matt shrugged. “You can come in whenever you choose. It’s a free country, and Frankie could always use the business.”
    “I know that. But I think you and I have both been operating under the assumption that you’ve got your sphere and I’ve got mine. You used to come in the hardware from time to time, but not anymore.”
    “I haven’t been undertaking any home-improvement projects lately.”
    “You’re being ironic, I guess,” Nowicki said, “but that’s actually what I came to talk to you about.” He said that the previous weekend, when the girls returned home after their regular sleepover, they made a few remarks that got Carla upset. “Understand, they weren’t complaining, they were just laughingabout stuff and having a good time, but their mom sees things differently.”
    The “stuff” in question was the decay they’d observed in the house that had