are a little early,” Francesca responds. “We can probably fit a game in.”
We all grab tangs and head toward the courts. I notice a framed movie poster has been hung on the wall advertising Cocoon . Annie spies me looking at it and is at my elbow in an instant.
“Did you know they filmed a scene right here? I got to meet Ron Howard myself. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“You know, I saw that movie years ago but I never realized it was filmed here,” I say.
“You must be thinking of something else , dear. This just came out this past summer. You mean you didn’t go out and see it?”
“Oh, right. No. I wasn’t in town this past summer,” I reply.
“It was such a wonderful film. Ron Howard is so handsome now that he is grown up. And to think that we used to see him so little on The Andy Griffith Show and now he’s shooting big time movies in our city.”
Another person comes up to Annie for help and I gratefully make an exit out the door. I find my friends outside and we cruise around until we find an open lane. Blake grabs a rack of shuffleboard biscuits from a pile outside and t urns back to Francesca. “How are we supposed to know when Quickly is here? Did you tell him what we look like?”
“He said he would find us here,” Francesca replies. “He never asked what we looked like. He just said be here around eight and that he would find us.”
“Do we know what he looks like?” Carson asks.
“I guess we keep an eye out for somebody who looks like he’s looking for us ,” I say.
We can’t all play simultaneously, so Robbie and I decide to trade off shots. He, Francesca and I walk to the bleacher side of the lane and face off across from Blake and Carson. Robbie and I play against Francesca, while Blake contends with Carson . The match is going fairly smoothly until I accidentally knock two of my biscuits into the negative-ten-zone simultaneously while trying to move Francesca’s.
“Son of a— ” I edit myself as I see an older woman eyeing me disapprovingly from the neighboring lane.
“There goes our lead.” Robbie laughs.
“Here, you take it for the remainder. See if you can pick me up,” I say, and hand Robbie my tang.
I jump up a couple of steps and have a seat in the bleachers to watch the others play. The clock on the wall in the main building shows ten past eight. No sign of our mysterious rendezvous. I prop my feet on the railing and adjust my pants. Mr. Cameron took us to the Salvation Army so we could raid the sale racks for clothing. I ended up with a pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirts. The one I’m wearing now features Gizmo from Gremlins . Carson claims to have found the best vintage treasure because he snagged an original Thriller T-shirt, but I’m happy with mine.
I look around at the other people in the bleachers and take in the conversations. A group of older ladies are clumped together to my right, discussing their disapproval of someone’s taste in second husbands. I can hear occasional loud laughter from two men who are probably in their sixties, sitting a few rows up in the bleachers directly behind me. To my left a group of middle-aged couples is commenting on one of the games being played by their friends.
As I’m watching Blake and Carson repetitively clear each other’s biscuits off the lane in quick succession, one of the older men from behind me steps past me, still talking over his shoulder. “Gotta get back to glassing the lanes. It was good seeing you. Tell Mym I said hi.”
“I’ll tell her,” the other man replies. “She still talks about your wife’s cooking on a regular basis. Probably an allusion to what she has to put up with from me.”
“You two come over next time she’s in town. We’ll be happy to feed you both.”
“See you, Walt,” the man behind me says.
Walt walks in front of the bleachers, picks up the glass bead material and heads for the set of lanes around the corner. After a few moments, the second man
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