And indeed there were other things to be thankful for. His luck had finally turned. He still had his triple winnings and another five hundred or so from the afternoon’s poker game. He wasn’t out of the woods, but tomorrow he’d be able to go see Harold Proxmire and give him fifteen hundred on the truck, which would hold him for another couple months. And he’d have his first and last months’ rent on the new apartment he hadn’t found yet. If his luck held, Miles Anderson wouldn’t return for a while and see how far behind he was on the house. It shouldn’t take more than a couple weeks to get more or less caught up now that Rub was back in the fold. Peter had managed to convince Anderson that everything would get done. Probably the smart thing would be to turn the whole Anderson project over to Peter. If it snowed, he could afford to do that. Maybe he could afford to anyway. Sully felt the big wad of bills bulging comfortably in his pants pocket. He hadn’t even counted it yet. Maybe he was even better off than he knew.
When he awoke with a start, he saw that over half the boxes in the living room were now unpacked and the floor-to-ceiling bookcases were now full of books. Toby Roebuck, barefoot, her hair still damp, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, was standing on a chair and filling up the top shelf with volumes Peter was handing to her. The empty boxes they had used to form a wall between themselves and him. It was Toby Roebuck who first noticed he was awake. “Sully,” she said. “How can you sleep sitting up like that?”
In fact, he wished he hadn’t, at least not for so long. He’d slept slumped against the wall, and his neck was stiff. “Hello, Mrs. Roebuck,” he said, trying to stretch some of the kinks out.
She gave him a look. “Don’t Mrs. Roebuck me, Sully,” she said cheerfully. “You’re a documented sinner.”
“That was a long time ago,” he said, standing up and testing his knee. “Anymore I’m too tired to sin.”
“My point exactly. Don’t criticize people who have the energy.” She cast a glance at Peter, who didn’t look like he had any great wealth of energy himself. He must have, though, Sully reflected. There were at least two women who thought so.
“I don’t recall saying anything except hello,” Sully told her. “If you decide to get married, let me know. I’ll give away the bride.”
“Don’t pretend you approve, either,” Toby Roebuck said. “That’s even worse.”
Sully flexed tentatively at the knee. “Let me see if I understand. I’m not supposed to approve and I’m not supposed to disapprove. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Break down some of these boxes,” Peter suggested. “There’s a pair of scissors right behind you on the desk.”
“Just don’t throw them all away,” Sully told him, picking up the scissors. “I’m moving myself in a couple days.”
“I’ll save a couple,” Peter agreed. “You think two will do it?”
“I wish I’d known you were attracted to smart-asses,” Sully told Toby Roebuck.
“He has other qualities,” she said. “If it were just being a smart-ass, I’d be attracted to you.”
They finished about half an hour later. With all the books on the shelves and the boxes broken down and in a single tall pile, the flat again looked bare. “You’re going to need a few things, aren’t you,” Sully said.
Toby’s voice came in from the kitchen. “Pots and pans and plates and glasses and silverware, for instance.”
“I’ve got all that stuff,” Sully said. “We can bring it over tomorrow.”
“Then what would you use?” Peter asked.
“I haven’t eaten a meal at home in five years,” Sully told him truthfully, pulling on his coat and gloves to leave.
“That’s sad,” Toby said from the kitchen doorway.
“Not really, dolly,” Sully said, going over to the window. The street was dark, but he could make out the shape of Carl Roebuck’s sports car at the curb below.
Peter put on his coat too. “I’ll walk you down. I’ve got to close up the trailer anyhow.”
Sully glanced around the room again. Even empty it looked good. The fireplace, surrounded by books. He hadn’t seen that in his mind’s eye when they’d looked at the flat this morning, hadn’t imagined how it might look. “The place is going to be all right,” he admitted. “Bring your mother over tomorrow. It’ll make her feel better.”
Peter nodded. “Nothing reassures her like books.”
“She’ll love it here, then. It’s a regular library,” Toby said, pronouncing it “lie-berry,” and Sully thought he saw Peter smile.
Sully led the way down the dark stairway, holding on to the railing and taking the stairs one at a time, both feet on each step before proceeding to the next. What had possessed him, he wondered, a few hours ago, to back up these same stairs with a heavy oak desk? On the other hand, what had possessed him to punch a policeman last week or Carl Roebuck this afternoon? As always, to Sully, the deepest of life’s mysteries were the mysteries of his own behavior.
At the foot of the stairs, Peter flicked a wall switch to no purpose. “One more thing to do tomorrow,” he said, staring up into the dark of the vaulted ceiling. “Thanks for the help with the desk.”
Sully nodded, didn’t say anything for a minute. Peter, he was coming to understand, was capable of generosity. Sully hadn’t been a help with the desk, he knew. He’d made more of a job of it, not less. His son was simply being kind. Maybe this was one of the other qualities Toby Roebuck was referring to. “I’d lock up down here if she stays the night,” Sully warned. “That’s her husband parked across the street in the red car.”
“He followed us as far as Albany,” Peter said. “When we went to Morgantown.”
“She went with you?”
Peter didn’t say anything.
“How did all of this come about?” Sully wondered, genuinely curious.
“Quickly,” Peter said, as if this explanation might suffice. It did not. Sully had never fallen in with any woman quickly.
“Well,” Sully said. “Look out for Carl. This is all new to him.” It was odd talking to Peter in such a confined, dark space. Easier, in some ways. Often it was the expression on his son’s face that made talking to him difficult, the wry, detached smugness. His voice, on the other hand, was pleasant enough. “He’s the one that’s always playing around,” Sully explained. “He’s got to get used to the shoe being on the other foot.”
Sully could see just well enough to see his son shrug. “The shoe’s been on the other foot before,” Peter said. “At least according to Toby.”
Sully considered this for a moment. “I doubt it,” he said.
“Okay,” Peter agreed. “Have it your way.”
“She’s a pretty nice girl.”
Peter chuckled. “She’s a pretty nice woman. And you’ve put her on a pretty tall pedestal.”
“Well,” Sully said and let his voice trail off, glad that Peter apparently had no interest in confiding to him Toby Roebuck’s past transgressions, if indeed he knew of any. “Swing by the house on Bowdon in the morning before you return the trailer. There’s some furniture in the spare room. If there’s anything you want, take it.”
Peter said he would.
“There might not be anything you can use,” Sully admitted. “Who knows?” He put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll have a word with our friend on the way out. He’ll listen to me.”
“Do me a favor and don’t,” Peter told him. “You’ll just make things worse. Again.”
This, Sully realized, was a reference to his earlier refusal to wait for the ambulance when he’d slapped Vera. The horror of the scene had been running through his mind all afternoon, despite the excellent diversions — beer and poker and bare-breasted girls — with which he’d been surrounded. “You think your mother’s going to be okay?”