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  “Right,” Cynthie said, swallowing. “I just wanted to say, ‘Hi!’”

  “Hi,” Cal said. Something in the bleachers caught his eye and he looked past her to see Harry climbing up to the top. “Where the hell is he—” Cal began and then he looked past Harry and saw Min, sitting at the top, her hair cut short in loose curls that glinted in the sun. She was wearing a filmy, flowing white shirt, and her face lit up when she saw Harry so that she looked positively angelic, and he lost his breath for a moment. “She cut her hair,” he said out loud, and Cynthie said, “What?” and followed his eyes.

  Cal nodded to the bleachers, recovering. “Go up there and send Harry back down here, will you? He’s supposed to be playing ball, not flirting with older women.”

  “Right,” Cynthie said, in that brittle tone that Cal knew meant “I’m very upset, but I’m going to be an adult about it.”

  “You okay?” he said to her.

  “Just fine,” Cynthie said, even more brittle, and went around the fence to climb the bleachers.

  What’s her problem? Cal thought and then forgot her to look back at Min again, glowing in the sunlight while Harry wiped his nose on his arm and adored her. I am not interested in Minerva Dobbs, he told himself. She’s too high maintenance. She’s never peaceful. And, oh yeah, she hates me. Then Min smiled at Harry, and Cal thought, Damn, she’s pretty, and kept staring.

  When Min got to the park, the kids were warming up, and she saw Harry out on the field, smaller than the other kids and grubby as usual, and felt a twinge for him. Then he saw her and smiled the Morrisey smile at her, and she thought, Oh, he’s going to be fine, and smiled back. She climbed up to the top of the bleachers and felt the wind ruffle her newly short curls and the fluttery sleeves of her organdy blouse as she sat down. She tried to watch Harry, but it was hard because Cal was there, and her eyes kept going to him. It’s purely physical, she told herself, but it wasn’t; she loved the way he was with the kids. He hated coaching, but he was doing it right. That was Cal.

  Oh, stop it, she thought. You don’t even know him.

  A slender brunette walked up behind Cal and put her hands over his eyes, and Min thought, Of course, and felt all her ludicrous happiness deflate. It didn’t matter that he was good with kids, since she didn’t want any. But it did matter that he was a beast with women, so—

  Someone sat down beside her and said, “Hello,” in a beautifully modulated voice, and Min turned and saw a pale-haired, paper-thin woman smiling faintly at her. She had a heart-shaped face and huge gray eyes, her platinum hair was razor cut close to her finely boned head, and she couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. “I’m Bink,” she said.

  “Right,” Min said. “Hi. I’m Min.”

  “It’s so sweet of you to come for Harry,” Bink said. “I do appreciate it.”

  “Well, Harry’s a sweet kid,” Min said, looking back to find him, only to discover that he’d escaped from the field and was climbing the bleachers toward them, looking even grubbier as he came closer.

  “Most people don’t notice that,” Bink said, looking at him with love.

  “Hi, Min,” Harry said when he was one row down. He was beaming at her and she smiled back because anybody would.

  “Hey, Harry,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  “I have to play baseball,” Harry said. “Otherwise, pretty good.”

  “Well, live through this and we’ll celebrate with a doughnut afterward,” Min said.

  “Cool,” Harry said, bobbing his head.

  “You’re looking good down there on the field,” Min lied.

  “Thanks,” Harry said, still bobbing.

  “You can really throw that ball,” Min said, guessing.

  “Not really,” Harry said, but he didn’t seem depressed by that.

  He sniffed and kept nodding, and Bink said, “I think Uncle Cal wants you, Harry,” and he turned around and saw Cal and the brunette watching him.

  “Yeah,” he said and sighed.

  “Just keep thinking about that doughnut,” Min said.

  “Cool,” Harry said again, beaming at her.

  Min smiled back.

  “I gotta go,” Harry said, not going anywhere.

  “Good luck,” Min said.

  “Yeah,” Harry said, nodding for another minute or so. Then his smile faded and he trailed down the bleachers, avoiding his uncle’s gaze.

  “That was nice of you,” Bink said, and Min looked at her, surprised.

  “No, it wasn’t,” she said. “I like Harry.”

  The wind picked up before Bink could answer, and Min half expected her to blow away. I’m so glad she’s sitting beside me, she thought bitterly. Because I didn’t look hefty enough sitting up here by myself. Then she kicked herself. Bink might turn out to be nice, she was certainly polite, and Cal had warned her about hating her body. Okay, she thought. I’m one of those heavy cream wedding invitations, the kind you have to touch because it’s so beautiful, and she’s the expensive tissue paper that’s wrapped around me.

  “Are you all right?” Bink said.

  “Yes,” Min said. “Why?”

  “You were frowning,” Bink said.

  “I have to work on my metaphors,” Min said. “So Harry plays baseball.”

  “Unfortunately,” Bink said, and Min thought, She’s not one of the people who shanghaied Cal and Harry. I wonder—

  “Hi!” somebody said brightly from Min’s other side, and this time when she turned she saw the brunette who’d been flirting with Cal. She had a heart-shaped face and big gray eyes, and her dark hair was thick and silky.

  Kill me now, Min thought as the paragon sat down beside her. I’ve been bookended by the thin and rich.

  “How are you, Bink?” the woman said, and Bink smiled at her faintly—Bink evidently did everything faintly—and said, “Hello, Cynthie.”

  Cynthie. Min turned back to the brunette with renewed horror. Cal’s ex. Wearing, Min now noticed, a black halter top that wasn’t appropriate for a kids’ baseball game. Except that Cynthie was wearing it with no self-consciousness at all, probably because her breasts were those perfect perky kind men were always going on about. Bite me, Min thought and looked down on the field to see Cal staring up at the three of them with a very strange expression on his face. Probably realizing with horror that he’d been kissing a woman who was never going to wear a size eight. That hurt a lot more than it should have.

  “There’s Cal,” Bink said.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Min said. “Besides the fact that he hates this.”

  “He doesn’t hate this,” Cynthie said. “He agreed with me that this was great for Harry.”

  “Oh,” Min said. “This was your idea?”

  “Yes,” Cynthie said, smiling.

  Min turned to Bink. “Cynthie got Harry into baseball.”

  “Yes,” Bink said. “Cynthie discussed it with Harry’s grandmother and they agreed it would be good for him. Harry’s grandmother can be very forceful.”

  “Oh,” Min said, and turned back to the field to see a batter hit a wobbly shot into left field where a kid on Harry’s team bobbled the ball. Cal missed all of it, staring up into the bleachers at them.

  Then Cal began to turn away, and the kid in the outfield picked up the ball and threw it with desperation and an impossible force for an eight-year-old. It smacked Cal on the back of the head, knocking him off balance so that he fell to his knees and then to the ground.

  “No,” Min said and zapped down the bleachers and around the chain link fence. “Cal?” she said, going down on her knees beside him as he tried to sit up. “Cal?”

  He looked dazed, so she stared into his eyes, trying to see if the pupils were different sizes. They weren’t, his eyes were the same hot, dark depths they always were, and she fell into them again, growing breathless, as music swelled behind her, Elvis Costello singing his heart out on “She,” and the voice in her head said, THIS ONE.

  Then she hea