Redhead by the Side of the Road - Anne Tyler Page 0,46

had to see himself out of the apartment. Yolanda barely noticed he was leaving.

* * *

—

For lunch he cut up the remains of a rotisserie chicken and tossed it with chopped celery and mayonnaise and capers. (He liked to clean out his refrigerator at some point every weekend.) As he was adding the capers he thought of a story Cass had once told him about bringing a tuna salad with capers in it to the fourth grade’s opening-day picnic. “Miss,” one little boy had said, “I really do like these here caprices.” Quoting him to Micah, Cass’s voice had become a little boy’s voice, smaller than her own and livelier. Micah had always thought it sounded silly when people switched to other people’s voices. In fact, he found it silly to this day, but even so he wished now that he could relive that particular moment. This time, he would just let himself enjoy the way her nose wrinkled when she talked about something that tickled her. And the triangular shape that her eyes took on; it had to do with how her cheeks rose up when she was laughing.

Caprices! Excellent word.

Halfway through eating his lunch, he got a customer call. “Tech Hermit,” he said, and a woman said, “Hi!” All perkiness and optimism; she was probably still in her twenties.

“Hi,” he said.

“My name is Rosalie Hayes,” she said. “Is this the Hermit himself?”

“It is.”

“Well, I’ve got the weirdest problem here. I’m living in my granny’s house, right?”

“Okay…”

“I mean, it’s my house now, because she willed it to me, but I’ve just recently moved in. She died of a stroke in September.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Micah said. He served himself another spoonful of chicken salad.

“So, she was all equipped here, technologically speaking. Computer, printer, cell phone…even an iPod! Actual iPod Classic.”

“Lucky you,” Micah said.

“But no passwords.”

“No passwords?”

“I mean, I don’t know her passwords. I was hoping she had a cheat sheet, but I can’t find one. Just the password for her Internet, on a Post-it under her modem. No sign whatsoever of her computer password, though. And this is a good computer, practically brand-new. I could seriously use it. I did try calling the manufacturer, but they said they couldn’t help me.”

“Well, no,” Micah said.

“So I was wondering if you would come to the house and see what you could do.”

“Me!”

“You must know some special trick.”

“?’Fraid not,” Micah told her.

“Nothing? You can’t do anything?”

“Nope.”

“Well, darn.”

“What’s her Internet password?”

“What?”

“You said you found her Internet password; what is it?”

“Well, Mildred63,” she said. “Mildred was her first name, and ’63 I think was the year she married Gramps.”

“Try that on the computer,” he said.

“I already did,” she said. “And then every possible variation of it. Nothing worked. But see there? You do know some tricks!”

“No more than you do,” he said. “You’re the one who already tried it.”

“The iPod’s not password-protected,” she said. An alluring note crept into her voice, as if she were holding out some promise. “I can work the iPod just fine!”

“Well, good.”

“But I can’t change any of the songs on it because they’re linked to her computer. And her songs are all easy listening.”

“Oh, God,” he said.

“I know; right? Elevator music. Dentist music.”

“My heart goes out to you,” he said.

“So couldn’t you just come to the house and see what you can do? I realize you must have a base fee. I understand I’d have to pay even if you can’t figure out her passwords.”

“I promise you I cannot figure out her passwords,” he said. Then he said, “How about her mouse pad?”

“Huh?”

“A Post-it stuck under her mouse pad.”

“I tried that,” she said.

“Under her printer? Under a desk