my stomach was upset. That means I was pooping.”
His mother’s eyes flared. “Do you want me to get a Tums? Or some Kaopectate? Was it diarrhea?”
“No, I’m fine, really.” Julian walked past her into the family room and looked out the window to see what was going on at Sasha’s house. The light was still on in their family room, so Sasha was in there with that new guy.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Let’s watch the movie.” Julian flopped onto the sectional, and so did his mother.
“But you missed the beginning.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I can tell you, from the box. Okay, so Meg Ryan owns an independent bookstore and Tom Hanks owns a big chain bookstore and they talk on that computer thing you go on, AOL—”
Julian zoned out as his mother droned on and they watched the movie, and after about half an hour, he could see the new guy leaving Sasha’s house. Sasha hugged the guy goodbye, then he walked down her front walk. Julian couldn’t see his face or his features. The guy was a silhouette backlit by the portico light, but he was tall, so he could be older. Maybe in college.
Julian watched as the new guy took a left, then turned the corner. Who the hell was the man? Where was his car? Why did he park away from the house, to avoid being seen? Or did he walk to Sasha’s? Did that mean he lived in Brandywine Hunt? Where? Julian knew the streets behind Sasha’s house: Palomino, Hanoverian, Andalusian, and Welsh Cob Drive. It had been his idea to name them after horse breeds because it had been a horse farm.
“Julian, watch the movie. I think they’re going to fall in love.”
“Terrific,” Julian said, forcing a smile.
CHAPTER 15
Bill Hybrinski
Darkness fell outside the kitchen window, and Bill Hybrinski eyed the calculator. He’d gone over his cost of goods, rent, payroll, utilities, inventory, and township, state, and federal taxes. He couldn’t deny the obvious any longer. He’d have to go out of business.
Hybrinski Optical spreadsheets cluttered the table. He’d wracked his brain over what he could’ve done differently, but there was nothing. He was a member of the Pennsylvania opticians’ guild and followed the Tips of the Trade. He’d painted his store blue (a welcoming hue) from beige (avoid beige). His frame displays were innovative, like the sportsman’s display with the picture of Bambi and the sign KEEP HUNTING AND/OR FISHING FOR SUNGLASSES FOR YOUR OUTDOOR SPORT! He’d trained his staff to upsell lenses to polarized, antireflective, or Transitions. He’d trimmed his operating expenses by cutting out Vision Expo, audited his lab and frame statements to make sure he was credited for warranty items, and held sales to turn over his inventory. None of it worked.
Bill eyed the spreadsheets without really seeing them. It was the end of a dream, one he had grown up with. He was from Milwaukee and had worked in one of the Stein Drugs stores in high school, where he met Marty Stein himself. Bill admired Marty Stein the way other boys admired baseball players, and when Marty sold his chain to Walgreens, Bill decided that someday he would be Marty. Marty founded Stein Optical with sixteen stores and had just sold it to Eye Care Centers of America, almost four hundred stores in thirty-six states. Bill would’ve settled for a fraction of Marty Stein’s success, but it wasn’t to be.
“Hey, honey!” Marianne entered the kitchen with the twins. He thought of them as his girls, a yappy trio of double ponytails, Browne’s T-shirts, and jean shorts. They’d had a softball game tonight against West Chester Automotive, but he’d missed it to work late, sitting in his empty store.
“Hey, Dad! Hey, Dad!” Jessica and Jennifer called out, their lips stained with cherry water ice. Twins didn’t run in their families, so Jessica and Jennifer had been a surprise. Like life itself, a series of surprises that cost you money you didn’t have.
“Hello, beauties! How was the game?” Bill tried to look happy when the twins scooted over, and he gave them big hugs. He kissed the tops of their heads, he could swear their hair smelled like strawberry shampoo and Big Macs.
“We won! Yay! Yay!”
“Yay! Yay!” Bill cheered. They always said yay-yay because there were two of them.
“We got you some fries.” Marianne came over with a weary grin, her light brown hair in a ponytail. She had round hazel eyes, a fine nose, and a warm, omnipresent smile, which was