woman," Layla commented.
"Yeah, she's something. I need you to pull her estate file. She wants a couple of changes."
"All right."
"Do you ever think we'll lose this? That we'll lose the town, ourselves, the whole damn ball?"
She hesitated. "Don't you?"
"No." He glanced back at her. "No, I know we'll win this. But we won't all make it. Not everyone who's out there going about their business today is going to come through it."
Instead of taking his walk, Fox went back into his office. He took a copy of his own will out of the desk drawer to review it.
JUST AFTER FIVE HE WALKED HIS LAST CLIENT TO the door, then turned to Layla. "We're out of here. Grab your things. We're going bowling."
"I really don't think so, but that's a nice thought. I want to check in with Quinn."
"She's meeting us there. The whole gang's hitting the Bowl-a-Rama. It's Friday night. Pizza, beer, and duckpins."
She thought of the quiet meal of soup she'd planned, a glass of wine and a book. "You like to bowl."
"I hate it, which is problematic seeing as one of my closest friends owns a bowling alley." He got her coat as he spoke. "But the pizza's good, and there are pinball machines. I love me some pinball. Regardless, we earned a break. From everything."
"I guess we did."
He held out her coat. "Friday night in the Hollow? The Bowl-a-Rama's the place to be."
She smiled. "Then I guess we'd better get there. Can we walk?"
"Read my mind. Figuratively speaking. I've been antsy all day." He paused after they'd stepped outside. "Pansies in the tub outside the Flower Pot and see there? That's Eric Moore, clean-shaven. He shaves off his winter beard every March. Spring's coming."
He took her hand as they hit the sidewalk. "Do you know what I love as much as pinball and pizza?"
"What?"
"Taking a walk with a pretty girl."
She aimed a look at him. "Your mood's improved."
"Anticipation of pizza does that for me."
"No, I mean it."
He shot a wave at someone across the street. "I wallowed some. I need a good wallow once in a while, then I scrape it off."
"How?"
"By remembering we all do what we do. By reminding myself I believe good mostly wins out in the long run. Sometimes the long run's a bitch, but good mostly wins out."
"You're cheering me up."
"Good. That was the plan."
"I wasn't exactly wallowing. I think I got jammed up at worrying. Pansies in the tub, that's a good sign, but I hate that it's offset by ones like this." She gestured toward the gift shop. "I want to believe good mostly wins out, too, but it's hard knowing it costs so much, that some people have to lose."
"Maybe it's not a loss. Maybe they'll relocate to Iowa and hit the lottery, or double their business. Or they'll just be happier there, for whatever reason. The wheel's got to turn before you get anywhere."
"So says the man practicing law in the town where he was born."
"I turned the wheel." They crossed at the Square. "It brought me right back here. Brought you here, too."
He pulled open the door, and led her into the noise of the Bowl-a-Rama.
"To pizza and pinball."
"And pansies, to continue the alliteration. Then there's bowling and bonhomie."
"Bonhomie. Triple word score."
"Play your cards right." He turned her and, letting the mood carry him, laid his lips on hers before she could prepare herself. "There could be sex and satisfaction."
"I'm not playing cards just yet."
"So we settle for friends and frivolity. And boy, am I done with that." He led her to lane six, where Cal sat along with Quinn and Cybil, changing shoes. "Where's Turner?"
"Deserted us for the arcade," Cybil told him.
"And the pinball rivalry continues. Catch you later."
"No problem. I'll have three beautiful women to myself." Cal held out a pair of bowling shoes. "Size seven?"
"That would be me." Layla slid into the booth as Fox gestured Cal a few steps away.
"How'd you get Gage to come in?"
"It's his father's night off. Bill's not around, so..."
"Got it. I'm going to go whip his ass at Tomcat. He'll be buying the beer."
"Tomcat?" Cybil's eyebrows rose dramatically. "Isn't that a war game?"
"Maybe." Fox eyed her narrowly. "What are you, my mother? And you don't have to mention me whipping Gage's ass at a war game to my mother if you should happen to run into her."
An hour with the lights, the bells, the patter of antiair-craft cut away even the fading edges of Fox's pensive mood. It