Isobel flipped off the cell phone. She dropped the instrument on her kitchen table, right into the pile of real estate brochures. She covered her smiling face with both hands, almost laughing out loud. She should have known. Of course, she should have known. The bank had just called. They said a bank representing an anonymous donor called requesting wire instructions for a contribution to the Center. A few minutes later a bank in Cyprus made The Center for Consumer Concerns richer by thirty million dollars. “Oh, m-my,” she said. “Walter, Walter, Walter.”
St. John
“You got three,” said Ike, blowing the usual amount of smoke away from Billy out toward where the Poet slept in the square. “Brando, Newman, and Dean. What’s more to say? Ain’t three better. Ain’t three as good.” He looked to Billy, standing where he always did, behind the bar, halfway between himself and Walter. Billy mumbled something as he wiped the already spotless counter. “What?” said Ike.
“Tinkers, Evers, and Chance,” Billy said, this time loud enough to be heard. “There’s three for you.”
“Who the hell they?”
“Come on, old man. You’re losing it. Tinkers to Evers to Chance.”
“Un huh,” said Ike, the same way his doctor often did after putting down his stethoscope.
“Chicago Cubs infield,” Billy went on. “Best double play combination there ever was.”
Ike said, “Oh, yeah. Now I hear you. Couldn’t make out what you said. I heard of them. That was when only white boys played, so we’ll never know how good they were, will we? Easy to turn a double play on a white boy. Can’t run fast enough.”
“Ahh,” said Billy, waving his bar rag at the old man.
“Brando, Newman, and Dean,” said Ike again. “And they all white. I am no prejudiced man. I recognize talent.”
Billy said, “Walter, you got three for us?”
“Three what?”
“Three anything. Three better than Bran-”
“I heard him,” Walter said. “You too. I’ll go with the three ghosts.”
Billy dropped his bar rag on the floor. “The Father, Son, and the Holy-”
“No, Billy. That’s only one ghost, if I remember correctly.”
“I think you’re right, Walter,” Ike said. “Only one.”
Walter said, “The three ghosts. The ghost of Christmas past. The ghost of Christmas present. And the ghost of Christmas future.”
“The past, the present, and the future,” said Ike. “That’s good. That’s very good. I’ll take the past, if you don’t mind. I surely will.”
“I’ll take the present,” said Billy, who feared the future and dreaded the past. “That leaves you with the future, Walter.”
“It most surely does,” said Ike. “You up to it?”
“The future,” said Walter, raising his drink in the air. “Gentlemen, here’s to the future.”
Billy went to write it up.