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Hartman took a step and backhanded it cleanly. He trotted to tag first base and turned to roll the ball back toward home.He found LaCross glaring at him from 90 feet away."Just let the fucking thing go through," he said. "For God's sake." Hey, Skip," Brock yelled. "That was a hell of a grab he made. At least give him some love."LaCross' glare shifted from first base to his second baseman, who was on his knees after he dove in case the ball got through. The manager shook his head. He wanted to see what sort of footwork Miller had. He didn't need some never-would-be trying to steal the show. Still, he understood Miller's rationale."That was a fine play, Fred," LaCross admitted. "But for now, I want to see how much work Miller needs. I know what you can do. OK?" Sure, Skip," Hartman said. "Sorry about that. I see a ball, I react. I'll just hang near the base and stay out of the way." Thanks, Fred," LaCross said. He waited for a moment for Brock to resume his position and drilled another. He started to move farther into the kitchen. I pulled my head back from Ann and shook it 'NO' then said, "We better get out of here before anything bad happens." As I said that I stepped back from Ann but prevented her from turning toward the doorway Gene was in.Gene gave me an angry look and turned, walking quietly back into the living room.Ann seemed to take an involuntary step toward me. Her arms reached out for me then she got a scared look on her face and stepped back also. She whispered, "Thank you Hon, Uh George." She turned to the sack of food and took her order out. She placed it on the table and unwrapped it. She took a big bite of the burger then turned to begin unpacking again.I grabbed Ann and pulled her back against me once more. "Ann that'll wait until tomorrow. You're tired and hungry. Now come on and let's go into the other room and eat and relax for the rest of the evening."She looked up at me then at all the boxes she had to unpack. I watched her shoulders slump.
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Cecelia's, and, as she and I got the serving line ready for lunch, we talked about her future plans. I knew that Marie was married, and that she and her husband lived alone now. They had raised two children, but one of them had died in late childhood, of some illness. The other one was married, and she lived somewhere in Nebraska. I knew that Marie's husband was disabled, and that he lived on his social security disability payments. Marie wasn't someone who was easily upset or excitable. She told me she was going to go out and get another job, maybe at a restaurant. She told me there was always plenty of work for a cook. The only worry she had, she said, was people thinking she was too old to hire. I was surprised when Marie told me she was sixty one. I thought she was younger. Her hair didn't have any gray in it at all."Marie, you can come work at my Dad's company. We'll make you a baker. You can make bread or rolls, whatever you feel like making." Kenny, I'm a cook. I like to cook..

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