Spoonbenders

She had no idea. She kept rereading it, looking for clues. The computer, with its much-vaunted Pentium chip, was no help; she’d have had better luck interrogating a carrier pigeon. All her usual tools for managing people, men especially, had been taken from her.

It was exhilarating.

4 Frankie

Where the hell was the sock?

He pulled the dresser drawer all the way open. Ran his hand along the back. The drawer was full of white tube socks and a few colored dress ones, the pairs rolled up into balls. He was looking for a solo white sock tinged pink from a washing machine run-in with the twins’ outfits, folded over itself. He kept it right there, in the back right corner. And now it was gone.

He started unrolling socks and tossing them to the carpet.

“What are you doing?”

Loretta, suddenly in the doorway, making him jump.

“I’m looking for socks,” he said.

“You’re wearing socks.” Eyeing him half dressed in his tighty-whities.

“Other socks,” he said testily. “Have the kids been in my stuff?”

“Your stuff?” Her eyes narrowed. Did she know about the stash? Or was it just Loretta being Loretta? She could do that, go cold. Like she was reconsidering the whole enterprise—marriage, kids, mortgage, everything.

He lifted a hand. “I’m just saying—”

“No one’s interested in your underwear,” she said. “Your sister’s here.”

“What?”

“She’s in the living room. With Matty?” She stared at him. “First day of the new job?”

“Tell ’em I’ll be right there,” Frankie said.

“Don’t forget your pants,” she said.

He pushed the door closed, then yanked the drawer free of the dresser and dumped the contents onto the bed. Finally he spotted the pale pink sock—but it was unfolded. And suspiciously flat.

He pulled open the neck and fished out the bills. Mostly twenties, but a handful of fifties, and a couple of hundreds. Quickly he counted the stash, and came up a hundred bucks short of the three thousand he’d hidden there. Frantically he started counting again.

From the living room Loretta yelled, “Frankie! You coming?”

“Just a minute!” Now he’d lost count. But did it matter? He was drastically short of what he needed today—another hundred wouldn’t have made him any less screwed. He pulled on his yellow work polo and his pants, and then folded the cash and pushed it into a front pocket.

Before he left the bedroom he confronted himself in the full-length mirror hanging on the door. Mirror Frank was a mess. Sweat dotted his forehead.

“Embrace life,” he said to his reflection. He tried to say this every day. “Embrace the UltraLife.”

In the living room, the twins were bouncing around, competing for Matty’s attention. Loretta and Irene conspired in the corner. Frankie shook Matty’s hand, making sure Irene saw that. “You ready to work?” he asked the boy.

“I guess,” Matty said. “I mean, yes, I am.”

“You sure this is okay?” Irene asked Frankie. That skeptical tone. “You checked with your supervisor?”

“I say who rides in my truck,” Frankie said.

“Because if he’s not allowed—”

“I said it’s fine, Irene.” He put a hand on Matty’s shoulder. “And if you work hard, I can see about keeping you on part-time through the year.”

“Really?” Matty asked. Loretta and Irene were looking at him with two flavors of disbelief.

Frankie considered backpedaling, then thought: Why not? Frankie would pay the kid out of his own pocket if need be. It sure as hell would do Matty some good. The kid needed a man in his life. A male role model.

“If you work hard,” Frankie said. “I guarantee it.” The twins hung on Matty’s arms, trying to tell him things. Frankie knelt and pulled the girls in to him.

“Cassie, Polly. Look at me.” Jesus they were adorable. “You’re going to be careful today, right?”

“You always say this,” Polly said.

“ ’Cause if you’re not careful, Mom’s going to separate you, right? We don’t want what happened last time to happen again, right?”

“Why don’t you take us to work?” Cassie said.

“When you’re older,” he said. Thinking, Holy shit, what a disaster that would be. He kissed them on their cheeks and told them again to be careful. “You ready, Matthias?”

Matty was looking in the other direction, eyes wide. The basement door had opened, and there was Mary Alice, half asleep, wearing nothing but a long black T-shirt and a scowl. Her mother’s daughter, all right.

“Vampirella awakes,” Frankie said.

“Hi, Malice,” Matty said.

She clumped down the hall toward the bathroom without a word.

“Malice?” Frankie said to Matty. “Now she’s got you doing it.” Matty’s mouth was hanging open. “Snap out of it, kid. We gotta carpe the diem.” He kissed Loretta goodbye, and made Matty kiss Irene. “Always kiss your women,” he said. “In case you don’t come back.”

“A little dark,” Irene said.

—