Page 28 of Head Room

“Yeah, I’m making a one-day trip to Sherman for some business things.Have to get back here to fill in for the sports anchor.”

Herewas Chicago, for the network affiliate job.

“Okay, tomorrow.”Better than closer to the wedding, anyway.“But that’s not what’s bothering you.”

“It’s not bothering me, exactly.It’s just our ad guy has a lead on a series of ads.”

I knew names of business-side people at the station.But Mike seldom used their names, keeping as thick a wall as possible between the news department and the business side.

“And that bothers you?”

He chuckled slightly.“I guess not.I’m being a contrarian because he’s so enthusiastic.I should be, too.More income, you know.”

“The station needs more income?”To my surprise, I’d learned a while back that the station’s ads did quite well, what with no other TV outlets around.

“No.Thank heavens.Though the business guys always want more.”His next words sounded more cheerful.“Guess that’s why he’s good at his job.So, yeah, before you say it, I’m being unreasonable.You want me to get with Needham about the time—?”

“Message me when you’ll get to town and I’ll check with Needham.”

“Good.Also...probably can’t do it this trip, because I’ll be there such a short time, but I hope we can sit down before the wedding and go over how to speed up these hires.”

I breathed out through my nose.“That will mean conferring with Mom and Tamantha.”

“And their spreadsheet.”And then he laughed.

He used to be my friend.

****

Shadow greeted meat the door.Took a sniff, then sneezed, and slipped past me to get outside and go visit our next-door neighbors.

Couldn’t blame him choosing to get away from the smoke smell.Besides, Iris and Zeb Undlin would give him treats.

I showered, washed my hair, put on fresh clothes, and tossed the smoky ones in the washing machine.When I knocked on the Undlins’ door, I found Zeb and Shadow sitting in twin chairs in front of the TV, catching a baseball game.

I pretended to be blind to the breaking of the not-on-the-furniture rule — for Shadow, not Zeb — and called out, “Want me to take Shadow home?”

“No,” came in stereo from Iris in the kitchen and Zeb in the chair.Shadow added a yip without looking away from the screen.

“It’s only the fifth inning,” Zeb added.

“We’ll send him home before you get back,” Iris said from the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t be late.”As I left, I said to Zeb, “I am not keeping track of baseball standings for him.”

“No need,” he called after me.“I fill him in.”

My commute to the station still stirred my wonder at its ease after years in Washington and New York, even Dayton and St.Louis before that.

This time, though, the commute made me follow Shadow’s example with a sneeze from lingering smoke.

As I turned onto Cottonwood Avenue, I remembered the bag Hannah had given me, the one with the manuscript Frank Jardos’ wife had been working on before she died.That had to be the source of the enduring smoke smell.

I should have left the SUV’s windows open while I was at the house.If I did that in the gravel parking lot at KWMT, I’d have a coating of dust inside.

After I parked, I carefully drew the pages from the bag.

Edges were charred on one side.Dark streaks showed across pages.All the paper felt sucked dry of moisture, like they’d shatter.