“There are a lot of great folks in town,” Frank said. “You need to get out and meet them.”
“I know,” I said, though my voice mustn’t have sounded too convincing because Frank came back at me right away.
“Small towns are funny places, Sean,” he explained. “You’re a stranger until you’ve lived here half your life. But if you knock elbows and spend less time jawing with coots like me, well, who knows.”
I laughed. “You saying you don’t like my company?”
“Your company’s fine. I’m just saying that in small towns you have to push yourself. Once you do that, you’ll find there’s a lot of loyalty. Secrets, too.”
Loyalty and secrets. I’d seen both in action today.
“Maybe I’ll head out, then,” I said, pulling my gloves from my pockets. “Knock elbows.”
Frank puffed his cigar. “Come back tomorrow, we’ll play chess.”
“I don’t play chess.”
“Christ on a crutch,” Frank said. “What’s this world coming to?”
A week later, a blizzard socked in and I began doubting the veracity of the online forecast. Perhaps there was more knowledge in the Farmer’s Almanac than I was ready to admit.
I trudged to the end of Grand Avenue, snow swirling around me. It was bitter snow, like grains of sand. By the time I got to Gosselin’s, my hair and shoulders were covered. I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the front windows. I looked like I had been rolled in confectioner’s sugar.
The front door swung open and a man’s broad back filled the doorway. He grunted and strained as he backed through the door carrying one end of Frank’s woodstove. On the other side of the stove was Frank, red-faced and scowling.
“Frank, what’s up?”
“I’m... reading the... paper,” he strained. “What... does it look... like? Goddamn... stove has to go.” The muscles on his forearms bulged as he stepped through the doorway.
“Can I help?”
Frank jerked his head over his right shoulder. “Man the ship.”
“Okay,” I replied, slipping inside.
Through the door’s snow-frosted glass, I watched as Frank and the other man struggled the stove across the parking lot toward a white moving truck. It was tough slogging through the drifts, but they seemed to have a handle on it. I turned my attention to the store.
The back corner where the woodstove had sat looked empty and dirty. The floor’s big bare patch was emphasized by the discolored hardwood and the massive dust bunnies crouched in the corner. There were still lengths of duct and pipe on the floor and I half considered lugging them out to the truck. The high keening of the wind, however, convinced me that my place was behind the counter.
I’d been back there less than two minutes when Edwin came inside. When he saw me he paused. Then, without another glance, he pulled the door closed, banged snow off his cane, and thumped down the aisle toward the beer cooler.
He knew I was watching but he didn’t even pause. He opened the beer cooler and reached inside for a six-pack. Then he took one step to the side and the shelves blocked him from my sight. When he came back into view, cane bumping the floor, I could see the bulge under his peacoat.
This old sonofabitch was pushing me and we both knew it. I had to say something, and I wanted it to be angry and indignant. When I opened my mouth, however, all I managed was, “Can I help you?”
“I doubt it,” Edwin said. “You don’t work here.”
“No, I’m just helping Frank.”
“Real man would help Frank by toting that goddamn stove, not by standing at the counter, catching flies,” Edwin said.
“Maybe there’s something you want to pay for,” I said.
He looked at me. “I don’t know who you are,” he said, “but mind your own business.”
“I’m doing what Frank asked.”
Edwin went out the door. I grabbed my jacket, meaning to follow him outside. I was just coming around the counter when Frank stepped inside. He was covered in snow and soot, his face red from cold and exertion.
“Where you running off to?”
“Um, Edwin, he...” I trailed off.
Frank had a curious look on his face, as if he knew damn well what was bothering me. “What about Edwin?”
“I thought...”
Frank gave me time. “Yeah?”
“I thought he might have... taken something without paying for it.”
After brushing as much of the snow and soot from himself as he could, Frank went behind the counter. Hanging his coat on a wall hook, he said, “You mean to say Edwin stole something?” He looked amused.
“More like he just forgot to pay,” I said.
Frank shook his head. “Not Edwin. He never forgets anything. Trust me.”
“But Frank—”
Frank raised a hand. “Edwin didn’t steal anything, Sean. It might have looked that way, but I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
I sighed inwardly. There was nothing I could do and, to be fair, it wasn’t my responsibility. Whatever friendship Frank and Edwin had, it didn’t involve me.
“What happened to the stove?” I asked, wanting to get as far away from my accusation of Edwin as I could.
“Damn thing’s had it,” Frank said. “Getting old, just like me. Sooner or later things get old and you have to let ’em go. It won’t be the same without that old bitch, though.” He sighed. “Let me wash up and get out the chessboard.”
“You’re determined to teach me that game, aren’t you?”
Frank nodded. “I’ll make you a smart man yet.”
Frank was good to his word and by the first week of December he’d taught me the basics of chess. I didn’t play very well, but Frank went easy on me. Still, he kept tormenting me about the weather. I’d claimed we were in for a mild winter but Mother Nature — and Frank’s Farmer’s Almanac — had put egg on my face. We’d had nothing but snow for five days straight.
I had my fingers poised over one of my pieces. Frank said, “You sure you wanna do that?”
In the middle of my contemplation — I did a lot of it during chess, and Frank usually muttered about how long it took — Edwin came into the store. His toque was pulled low over his brow. Hectic red patches stood out on his cheeks.
“Howdy, Ed,” Frank said.
Edwin’s reply was a muffled grunt. I was sitting on a stool opposite Frank and I swiveled around so I could see Edwin. He caught my eye and glared. Then he made his way to the beer cooler.
“Sean?” Frank said. “You gonna make your move?”
Frank had that curious look in his eyes. I said, “In a second.” Edwin was at the beer cooler, the door open. The cooler’s refrigeration unit hummed and steamy air breathed out around Edwin in a sigh.
“Sean?”
“Just hold your water,” I said, using one of Frank’s favorite phrases. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, Oh, really? Is that how it is?
At the back of the store, Edwin removed a six-pack and tucked it under his jacket. The cooler door thumped closed and Edwin came up the aisle, passed the front counter, and went out the door without a backward glance. I turned to Frank.
“Well?” I said.
“Well what?”
I pointed at the door. “Edwin just walked out of here with a six-pack.”
Frank’s eyes never left mine. “I didn’t see anything.”
“He pulled out the beer and put it under—”
Stepping into my words as neat as you please, Frank nodded at the chessboard and said, “Are you going to move?”
I couldn’t believe it. Here we sat, two adults, and Frank was going to pretend he hadn’t just seen Edwin lifting a six-pack. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Then, finally, I plucked up my piece and moved it.