Will you be best man?”
David gave him a crooked grin. “What do you mean, ‘will I be’? I always have been.”
Ted snorted. “Not in Darlene’s eyes—and that’s all that matters.” He picked up his bag and headed for the door. “I’ll tell her you said yes and she can scratch you off the ‘things to be done for the wedding’ list.” He pulled open the door, stepped outside, then hesitated. “See you next Wednesday. And make sure the ‘Tiger’ shows up, okay? I like a little competition.”
David threw his shoe at him. He wasn’t quick enough. The shoe crashed against the closed door. He grinned, grabbed his other shoe and cocked his arm. He didn’t have long to wait. The door eased open and Ted stuck his head through the crack. David let the shoe fly.
“Whoa!”
Ted’s head disappeared behind the door. The shoe sailed through the narrow opening into the hallway. David laughed. Not a bad shot.
A moment later the door opened wide and a grinning Ted tossed his shoe back to him. “Told you you’re off your game tonight, pal. That woman must really be something!” The door closed on his laughter.
David shook his head, retrieved his other shoe and sat on the bench to put them on. Erin Kelly was “really something,” but not for him. He frowned and shifted his thoughts to his friend. Ted married!
David gave a disbelieving snort, zipped his bag and left the locker room. He might have been off his game, but he’d worked up an appetite just the same.
“The penny glee…aaams.”
“Not quite, Amber.” Erin smiled at the teenager sitting beside her. “Remember the rule. When there are two vowels, the first vowel says its own name and the second vowel is silent.”
The girl nodded her head, then bent forward over the children’s reading book. Her forehead furrowed in concentration. “The penny glee…mmms. Gleems!”
“That’s right! Good job, Amber.” Erin’s heart swelled as the teenager lifted her head and smiled. “Friday night we’ll start a new book.” Erin smiled encouragement. “You’ll be reading and writing with the best of us in no time. I promise.”
The tension in the girl’s face eased. She nodded, and rose to her feet. “I hope so. I need to learn to read so I can get a better job. Doing dishes in a restaurant doesn’t pay enough to live on, and I’ll be on my own when I graduate this month. I don’t know what good school did me!” She shrugged and tugged her purse strap over her shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Miss Kelly. I’ll see you Friday.”
“You’re welcome, Amber. Good night.” Erin picked up the child’s reading book they’d been using and carried it to the cupboard.
“Miss Kelly? Will you help me with this word? I don’t think it obeys the rules you taught me.”
Erin turned and smiled at the frustrated fourteen-year-old. “Sometimes words don’t obey rules, Janine. Let me see. Oh. You can do this one.” She put her hand on the teenager’s shoulder urging her forward. “Let’s go sit at the table and I’ll help you figure it out.”
Almost ten o’clock. Another long day. And she still had papers to correct. Erin dropped her shoulder bag on the couch, slid her feet out of her pumps and wiggled her toes into the carpet. Wonderful! What was it about taking your shoes off? She could almost purr.
Erin reached for the TV remote resting on the coffee table beside the framed picture of Alayne she’d requested for her birthday a few weeks ago. She picked up the picture and studied her sister’s face. Alayne was smiling in the photograph, but there was unhappiness in her eyes. Did she know about Jerry’s affair?
Erin frowned. If only she could talk with Alayne about it. If only she could talk to their mom and dad about it! But that was out of the question. The familiar sadness swept through her. Erin sighed, put down the picture, picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. All she could do was wait and make herself available.
Piano music filled the room. Erin sank down onto the couch closing her eyes as a voice started touting a concert in the city. What would it feel like to play like that?
“A Channel Four News exclusive! This is Robert Sheffield reporting live. Only minutes ago there was a shooting here on Humbard Street—”
Erin opened her eyes. The flashing lights of an ambulance and two police cars blinked behind the man on her TV screen.
“—We’ve been unable to talk with police and obtain details as yet, but initial reports place two witnesses on the scene at the time of the shooting. And as you can see…” The reporter stepped aside, giving a graphic description of the scene while the TV camera panned to the sidewalk across the street. Two men knelt beside a body.
“Ugh! Sorry, Robert Sheffield, but this is nothing I want to see.” Erin reached for the remote, then stopped when she caught sight of two men standing with a policeman in a darkened doorway in the background. Poor men. They must be the eyewitnesses. What a horrible experience!
A flash of brilliance from the rotating light of the ambulance swept across the recessed entrance highlighting the men’s faces for a moment and Erin jerked forward. That was David Carlson! She stared at the man on the left. She must be wrong about the witness thing. He was probably just covering the story for The Herald. But he wasn’t talking to anyone. He was just standing there. She leaned closer to the TV, watching David.
Suddenly a hand appeared, and the screen went black. A voice, obviously connected to the hand covering the lens, ordered someone to turn the camera off. There was an indistinguishable mumble in reply, and a moment later the hand was removed, revealing the reporter standing in front of the Channel Four News van. “This concludes our live coverage at this time. We’ll have updates as details become avail—”
Erin snatched up the remote, clicked the TV off and leaned back against the couch. David Carlson. She had enjoyed the time she spent with him, which was unusual because she was always so tense around men. It was probably his professional interviewing skills that had made her relax. Of course, it helped that his behavior had been impeccable. He’d been polite and nice. And he was so intelligent.
Erin bent down, scooped up her shoes and headed upstairs to change into comfortable clothes. Why was she thinking about how nice David Carlson seemed? She’d never see him again—except occasionally on TV. She pursed her lips in speculation. She could be wrong, but it sure looked as if he’d witnessed that shooting. For his sake she hoped not.
David unlocked his door and stepped into his entrance hall. The leather globe light, suspended from the plastered ceiling, shone onto the objects atop the red-lacquered chest below it. He dropped his keys into the brass bowl, then tugged his necktie loose and moved down the two steps into the living room.
It had been quite a day. Witnessing that shooting had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He’d never seen a man’s life snuffed out in the space of a moment before. He’d almost lost his dinner. And then there was the police questioning, and his own limited account of the story to write for the paper. Too bad he had to report in general terms. This story could have been his big break. Maybe it still could be.
David rotated the tension from his neck and shoulders, then flipped the switch that turned on the indirect lighting and punched the button on his answering machine.
“David, darling? Are you there? It’s after eight.” A tiny bit of impatience crept into Brandee Rogers’s honeyed tones. “I thought you’d be home by now. Even reporters— Oh, never mind. I’m calling because I want you to take me to Charlene’s this Saturday night. She’s having one of her fabulous spur-of-the-moment parties, and you know everyone who is anyone in town will be trying to wrangle an invitation. I happened to run into her at lunch today so I’m in. And so are you, darling. She made a point of mentioning you. I’m jealous.”
David frowned at the coy words and tone. He could almost see Brandee’s full lower lip sticking