The All-Star Antes Up
Page 18
“After I eat”—Theo threw a glance at Patty—“may I please have a chocolate one?”
“You got it, young man.” Milt looked at the adults.
“How about a beer?” Dennis asked. As Milt recited what he had on tap, in the refrigerator, and what he could get from the lounge, her brother’s face lit up almost as brightly as Theo’s. The circles under his eyes and the lines of fatigue etched around his mouth disappeared. Patty had been right—her brother needed a day off.
Patty and Miranda both opted for white wine, much to Dennis’s disgust. “You don’t drink chardonnay at a football game,” he scoffed good-naturedly.
“So far, I don’t feel like I’m anywhere near a football game.” Miranda sipped the crisp chilled wine.
“Yeah, well, let’s change that.” Dennis gestured for Miranda and Patty to follow Theo past the televisions and the sofas to the glass wall. Tall bar chairs were lined up along a countertop positioned so one could watch the game from inside while eating and drinking. Theo pushed open the frameless glass door, letting in a burst of brisk autumn air.
“Want your coats?” Milt asked.
“No, no, we’re fine,” Miranda said. “Just exploring before we eat.”
The brilliant sunshine made the green of the synthetic turf and the royal blue of the Empire logo blinding. Clumps of early spectators dotted the giant arcs of seating, most of them sporting blue jerseys, but a few stood out in the dark red of the opposing Cardinals.
“We’re on the fifty-yard line,” Dennis murmured in a tone of awe. He turned to Miranda. “Just what did you get for Luke Archer’s brother?”
“You know I can’t answer that.”
“Yeah, that was rhetorical,” her brother said with a wry smile. “It must have been really something, though.”
Miranda was a little overawed herself, especially because Luke had reserved a box that probably accommodated twelve people for their exclusive use. This was far beyond what she’d expected, especially when she considered that she’d received all of this by refusing to get Trevor Archer what he wanted. Luke was trying to buy her silence in a big way.
“Can I have my Empire stuff now?” Theo asked, tugging on Miranda’s elbow.
“Of course, sweetie.” She’d sorted through the boxes and selected jerseys and hats for all of them to wear at the game, packing them in the tote bag she’d brought with her. She also had the autographed football and a fancy commemorative booklet that she figured Theo could get more autographs on after the game. The rest she had shipped to the farm.
They trooped back into the suite, where Miranda distributed her goodies. Father and son handled the football with equal reverence. “We’re going to put this in the china cabinet and never play with it,” Dennis said. Theo nodded as he held the ball by its pointed ends and stared at the scrawl of Luke Archer’s name slashed in black Sharpie across the pigskin.
“Yeah, it will add a nice touch beside my grandmother’s Royal Doulton.” Patty smiled indulgently at her husband.
Dennis returned the smile but with some extra heat. Miranda sighed inwardly. Patty and Dennis had the kind of love that seemed to grow stronger through their struggles with the farm’s finances, the difficulties of conceiving and bearing a child, and the stress of Patty’s mother’s protracted illness and death while she lived with them.
They still used every excuse to touch each other, looked forward to their date night once a month, and indulged each other’s interests, like Dennis’s love of football and Patty’s of square dancing. At an exhibition dance she’d attended, Miranda had been impressed with how light on his feet Dennis was on the dance floor, even as he threw a long-suffering grimace at her.
She tossed everyone a football jersey, which they pulled on over their shirts. “All of a sudden I feel underdressed.” Patty glanced between their fan apparel and the elegant suite.
“Look at the back.” Miranda turned around in front of Patty.
“Oh, my God, the jerseys are autographed,” Patty said, trying to look over her own shoulder. “Luke Archer touched my jersey.”
“I think he touches a lot of jerseys,” Miranda said.
“Not as many as you’d think,” Milt spoke up. “He prefers to donate his autographed items to charity auctions rather than selling them. But he’s happy to give his friends his John Hancock.” He winked at Theo, who looked down at his child-size jersey with new admiration.
“Hmm,” Miranda said. That was an unexpected side to Luke. Since he’d been so generous to her, she’d assumed he had stacks of the signed stuff in a warehouse somewhere.
“I’m hungry,” Theo said.
Right on cue, Dennis’s stomach growled, making them all laugh as they attacked the buffet.
Three hours later, the Empire were down by two points. All four of them were standing outside, yelling at the top of their lungs as the Empire drove down the field in an attempt to win the game. Milt had brought Theo a giant blue foam hand with the index finger raised, which the boy waved over his head with enthusiasm, occasionally whacking someone in the face.
Miranda found herself tracking Luke’s number nine jersey, whether he was on the field or on the sideline. Every time the quarterback got hit by a hulking lineman, she gasped and winced. Luckily it didn’t happen too often since, according to Dennis, his teammates did a good job of protecting him. “He’s tough and almost never gets injured,” Dennis explained, “but he’s getting older, so they have to step it up a notch.”
“You got it, young man.” Milt looked at the adults.
“How about a beer?” Dennis asked. As Milt recited what he had on tap, in the refrigerator, and what he could get from the lounge, her brother’s face lit up almost as brightly as Theo’s. The circles under his eyes and the lines of fatigue etched around his mouth disappeared. Patty had been right—her brother needed a day off.
Patty and Miranda both opted for white wine, much to Dennis’s disgust. “You don’t drink chardonnay at a football game,” he scoffed good-naturedly.
“So far, I don’t feel like I’m anywhere near a football game.” Miranda sipped the crisp chilled wine.
“Yeah, well, let’s change that.” Dennis gestured for Miranda and Patty to follow Theo past the televisions and the sofas to the glass wall. Tall bar chairs were lined up along a countertop positioned so one could watch the game from inside while eating and drinking. Theo pushed open the frameless glass door, letting in a burst of brisk autumn air.
“Want your coats?” Milt asked.
“No, no, we’re fine,” Miranda said. “Just exploring before we eat.”
The brilliant sunshine made the green of the synthetic turf and the royal blue of the Empire logo blinding. Clumps of early spectators dotted the giant arcs of seating, most of them sporting blue jerseys, but a few stood out in the dark red of the opposing Cardinals.
“We’re on the fifty-yard line,” Dennis murmured in a tone of awe. He turned to Miranda. “Just what did you get for Luke Archer’s brother?”
“You know I can’t answer that.”
“Yeah, that was rhetorical,” her brother said with a wry smile. “It must have been really something, though.”
Miranda was a little overawed herself, especially because Luke had reserved a box that probably accommodated twelve people for their exclusive use. This was far beyond what she’d expected, especially when she considered that she’d received all of this by refusing to get Trevor Archer what he wanted. Luke was trying to buy her silence in a big way.
“Can I have my Empire stuff now?” Theo asked, tugging on Miranda’s elbow.
“Of course, sweetie.” She’d sorted through the boxes and selected jerseys and hats for all of them to wear at the game, packing them in the tote bag she’d brought with her. She also had the autographed football and a fancy commemorative booklet that she figured Theo could get more autographs on after the game. The rest she had shipped to the farm.
They trooped back into the suite, where Miranda distributed her goodies. Father and son handled the football with equal reverence. “We’re going to put this in the china cabinet and never play with it,” Dennis said. Theo nodded as he held the ball by its pointed ends and stared at the scrawl of Luke Archer’s name slashed in black Sharpie across the pigskin.
“Yeah, it will add a nice touch beside my grandmother’s Royal Doulton.” Patty smiled indulgently at her husband.
Dennis returned the smile but with some extra heat. Miranda sighed inwardly. Patty and Dennis had the kind of love that seemed to grow stronger through their struggles with the farm’s finances, the difficulties of conceiving and bearing a child, and the stress of Patty’s mother’s protracted illness and death while she lived with them.
They still used every excuse to touch each other, looked forward to their date night once a month, and indulged each other’s interests, like Dennis’s love of football and Patty’s of square dancing. At an exhibition dance she’d attended, Miranda had been impressed with how light on his feet Dennis was on the dance floor, even as he threw a long-suffering grimace at her.
She tossed everyone a football jersey, which they pulled on over their shirts. “All of a sudden I feel underdressed.” Patty glanced between their fan apparel and the elegant suite.
“Look at the back.” Miranda turned around in front of Patty.
“Oh, my God, the jerseys are autographed,” Patty said, trying to look over her own shoulder. “Luke Archer touched my jersey.”
“I think he touches a lot of jerseys,” Miranda said.
“Not as many as you’d think,” Milt spoke up. “He prefers to donate his autographed items to charity auctions rather than selling them. But he’s happy to give his friends his John Hancock.” He winked at Theo, who looked down at his child-size jersey with new admiration.
“Hmm,” Miranda said. That was an unexpected side to Luke. Since he’d been so generous to her, she’d assumed he had stacks of the signed stuff in a warehouse somewhere.
“I’m hungry,” Theo said.
Right on cue, Dennis’s stomach growled, making them all laugh as they attacked the buffet.
Three hours later, the Empire were down by two points. All four of them were standing outside, yelling at the top of their lungs as the Empire drove down the field in an attempt to win the game. Milt had brought Theo a giant blue foam hand with the index finger raised, which the boy waved over his head with enthusiasm, occasionally whacking someone in the face.
Miranda found herself tracking Luke’s number nine jersey, whether he was on the field or on the sideline. Every time the quarterback got hit by a hulking lineman, she gasped and winced. Luckily it didn’t happen too often since, according to Dennis, his teammates did a good job of protecting him. “He’s tough and almost never gets injured,” Dennis explained, “but he’s getting older, so they have to step it up a notch.”
