Page 26 of Last Call (Open Tab #5)

The idea to give Owen “homework” had been Evan’s.

Ida had to give him credit. His idea showed both creativity and heart.

He’d drawn neat lines on a few sheets of paper and penciled in the outlines of every letter in the alphabet, telling Owen it was “practice work” just like what his cousins did in school.

It was exactly what Owen needed: a way to feel included, important, and just a little more like his older cousins.

So far, Owen had managed a nearly perfect D and C.

His A and B had gone a bit rogue, but she admired his effort.

Now he was hunched over the page, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed in quiet determination as he tackled the letter E.

His hand moved carefully along the pencil outline, tracing with as much precision as any four-year-old could hope to manage.

Ida smiled to herself. To Owen, this was the first step toward feeling a sense of belonging. Evan had understood that without needing to be told.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly, touching his shoulder, “you can finish later.”

Owen looked up, startled, then glanced down at his carefully half-traced E. “But Evan said it’s my work,” he whispered, as if stopping mid-letter might erase all his progress.

“You’ve got a big afternoon ahead,” Ida reminded him. “Pete will be here soon to take you to get Evan at school.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “Now?”

“Just about. You’ve got five minutes to wash your hands and find your hat. Momma put your fishing pole by the door.”

He sprang up from the table, already grinning. “Fish!”

Ida chuckled as he dashed down the hall, his socks slipping on the hardwood floor, the alphabet sheet fluttering behind him. “I hope Pete knows what he’s signed up for.”

The unfamiliar sound of the house phone startled Ida.

No one called her on the landline except Sylvia Main, and they had a scheduled phone date every Tuesday at 9:00 am.

If the phone was ringing at 2:30 pm on a Friday, something was wrong.

She took a few deliberate breaths to steady her nerves and went to answer it.

“Gwama!”

“I’ll be right there, Owen,” Ida called out. She exhaled and lifted the receiver on the wall. “Hello?”

“Ida?”

“Dick?”

“I’m sorry to call you in the middle of the day,” Dick Bath apologized.

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s a reason you’re calling me.”

“It’s Dora, Ida.”

“What happened?”

“She slipped. I thought she slipped in the bathroom. It looks like it’s more than clumsiness.”

Ida fought to breathe. “Where are you?”

“We’re at UVMC.”

“All right. Pete is due to get Owen any minute. I’ll head to you.”

“You don’t need to do that, Ida. I know you have your hands full. I just wanted you to know before the gossip mill starts turning.”

“I’ll be there in a bit. Do you need anything?”

“I’d say coffee.”

“I’ll bring you a decaf.”

Dick chuckled. “Ida…”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. She has enough friends who’ll do that for you,” Ida said.

“I’ll try.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Ida promised, slumping into a kitchen chair.

“Gwama?” Owen asked sheepishly. “Are you sick?”

“No, honey. I’m not sick. Come here,” Ida said. She straightened his lopsided blue Red Sox cap and smiled, even as tears prickled in her eyes.

“Are you sad?” Owen asked.

“No. Are you ready?”

“Yep!”

“Good,” Ida said just as a knock landed on the door.

“I can get it!”

“Ask who it is,” Ida reminded him.

“Who is it?” Owen called out.

“It’s your Uncle Pete.”

Owen turned to Ida with a giant grin. “I can open it?”

“Go ahead.”

Owen pulled with all his might to open the door. “Hi!”

“Hey, there, Owen,” Pete said, Hope’s feet dangling around his hip. “You ready to do some fishing?”

“Yep!”

“Got your pole?”

Owen grabbed his pole and held it up proudly.

Pete noted an unusual unsteadiness in Ida’s hands “Your seat is in the car,” he told Owen.

“Okay!”

“Put your pole on the floor before you climb in.”

“Kay!” Owen said. “Bye, Gwama!” He sprinted for the car.

“Don’t catch all the fish!” Ida called out.

“I will!”

Ida giggled. “Thanks for taking him.”

“Sure. Ida? Is everything okay?” Pete asked.

Ida sighed. She hated to spoil anyone’s fun. Word that Dora was at the hospital would spread like wildfire once Mary Branigan heard the news. “It’s Dora, Pete.”

Pete held his breath.

“I don’t know much. Dick just called. He said she took a tumble. It seems it might be more than that,” Ida explained. “They’re at UVMC. I’m going to head there now.”

“Call Andi.”

“Pete.”

“Ida, call Andi. She’s home. I know she is. She called me this morning. She’ll want to know. You know she will. And she’ll probably want to go with you.”

“I need to call Sylvia.” Ida’s heart dropped. “Pete.”

“Sit down. I’ll call Andi,” Pete offered.

“No. I will. I promise.”

“I can pick Evan up and take the kids to Riley and Beth, Ida.”

Ida smiled and reached for Pete’s hand. “No, sweetheart. You take the kids to the pond like you planned. I promise I will call Andi the minute I close the door.”

Pete hesitated to leave.

“Pete,” Ida said. “Don’t forget who the mother is here.”

Pete leaned close and kissed Ida’s cheek. “Call me when you know something.”

“I will. Now, go on. Get out of my doorway.”

Pete chuckled, relieved to see Ida returning to her usual humor.

Ida closed the door. “Shit. God help me if Mary Branigan appears.”

Carol looked up to find Riley walking into the pub with Beth.

“Thank God!” Carol called out.

“Why are we thanking God?” Riley asked.

“Adults.”

“Don’t tell me the preschool instituted a pub crawl?” Riley joked.

“Close enough. You just missed Fallon and Dave.”

Riley nodded.

“And just what is Fallon plotting?” Carol asked Riley.

“Plotting?”

“Uh-huh. She’s up to something,” Carol said. “She came in here for lunch and then didn’t sit long enough to eat it. She checked on the kegs, looked in the freezers, and asked Don if he thought the kitchen was big enough. She’s up to something.”

Riley shrugged.

“Mm-hm,” Carol said. “What brings you two in before Happy Hour?” she asked, working to fill two margarita glasses.

“We’re both kidless,” Beth said.

“Pete took the kids to the pond,” Riley explained

“All three of them?” Carol asked.

Beth nodded.

“By himself?”

Riley chuckled.

“Good thing Evan is there to supervise,” Carol said, handing her friends their drinks. “Wait. Pete isn’t working?”

“His new mechanic started this morning,” Beth explained.

Carol blinked. “New mechanic?”

“I haven’t met her yet,” Beth said. “He said something about her being Mr. Avery’s daughter.”

“He hired Avery’s kid!”

“Um. Who is Mr. Avery?” Riley asked.

Beth shrugged. “I don’t know. He tells me things sometimes, like I’m supposed to understand.”

“Sounds familiar,” Riley offered.

“He taught history at the high school,” Carol explained. “No. Actually, he was a history teacher at the high school.”

Beth and Riley exchanged a confused look over their drinks.

“We used to call him Avery the Ambusher,” Carol said, sliding a coaster under Beth’s glass like she was setting the stage.

“Pop quizzes every week. Sometimes, twice a week, if he was in the mood. He once gave us a quiz before he handed out our weekly reading assignment. Said, and I quote, ‘History doesn’t wait for instructions.’”

“He did not,” Riley said.

“He did. He was legendary,” Carol went on. “Had this haunted-looking classroom with maps all over the walls. It had the faint smell of a burning overhead projector and crushed dreams.”

Riley and Beth chuckled.

“I’m not joking. He was brutal. His class tanked more than one future valedictorian’s GPA.

You never ever left a blank on his fill-in-the-blanks.

He told everyone on the first day that if they could name Backstreet Boys, Gilmore Girls, American Idols, or Desperate Housewives but couldn’t name any Founding Fathers or First Ladies, they were already failing. ”

Riley laughed. “That is brutal.”

“Pete hired The Ambusher’s kid?” Carol asked.

“Apparently,” Beth replied.

“Maybe she’ll give Pete pop quizzes on carburetors,” Riley joked.

“I don’t think she’s interested in testing Pete’s knowledge of engines. Yours, maybe,” Beth told Riley.

“Avery’s kid is a lesbian?” Carol asked.

“A single one,” Beth replied.

“Just when I thought we’d married them all off,” Carol mused. “I really wish I could drink.”

Riley’s brow lifted. “We won’t tell.”

A lopsided grin served as Carol’s only reply.

“No way!” Riley exclaimed. “Are you pregnant?”

Carol shrugged. “Eight weeks today.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Riley wondered.

“I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“Congratulations,” Beth said. “Charlie must be thrilled.”

Carol nodded. “He is. It’s not the best timing.”

Riley reached over and took Carol’s hand. “Things will work out.”

“Am I missing something?” Beth asked. “I feel like I’m always missing something.”

“Welcome to the club,” Riley said. “It goes with the territory of being the never-ending newbie.”

“You’re not newbies.”

“Yes. We are,” Riley said. “Just look at your Mr. Avery story.”

“I’m sure you had a Mr. Avery,” Carol replied.

“Mine was Mrs. Jansen,” Beth said. “Freshman Algebra.”

“Oh, Algebra,” Riley groaned. “Not my forte.”

“Is Algebra anyone’s forte?” Beth asked.

“See, you do have your Ambushers?” Carol offered.

“Sure. One reason I fell in love with living here is how close you all are—your shared history. It’s endearing,” Riley said.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think we needed an injection of newbies. You should share more of your stories,” Carol said.

“Maybe we should,” Riley said. “But it’s so much fun listening to yours.”

“Okay, I get it,” Carol said. “Ammunition. Say no more.”

“Now, come on. I gave you my scoop. What is Fallon plotting?”

Riley sighed. “We’ll need another round.”

Fallon thanked the realtor and led Dave inside the main building on the property in Jeffersonville.

“What is this place?”

“It was a brewery. There are six cottages in the back that the owners rented.”