Chapter 5

Arlie got back from the ballpark Tuesday night just after eleven. A few minutes later, Dan Preston drove up and, looking a little embarrassed, rang the doorbell.

Arlie knew who it was and why he was there, but he motioned to Susan to allow him to answer the door.

"What in blazes are you doing here at this ungodly hour?" he said. If he expected Dan to retreat in confusion, Arlie had to be disappointed.

"C'mon! You knew I was coming by tonight."

"I did?"

"Of course you did. I'm sure Susan told you. You probably grilled her like a nervous father after I dropped her off last night."

"I'm not the only one old enough to be her father."

"A gross exaggeration," Dan said. "Not even technically accurate."

"What? You were a late bloomer?"

"I wasn't getting a lot of offers from women of child-bearing age back when I was ten years old," Dan said.

"I'm not surprised. You were probably as ugly then as you are now. Not as hairy, maybe, but still plenty ugly."

"Would you mind if I came inside and had a few words with the person I drove over here to see?"

"Sure. Sure, come in, Dan." Satisfied that he'd gotten in a few minor jibes, Arlie disappeared upstairs, not to be seen again.

"Hi," Susan said when Dan had wandered down the hall and found her in the kitchen. "You lost."

"Well, not me, personally," Dan said, smiling. "I didn't even get into the game. But, yes, we lost."

"But it's been going well, right? The team? Mostly winning?"

"It's April," Dan said. "It doesn't mean much yet. The main thing is, nobody's gotten themselves messed up yet. All five of our starters are actually starting, and the defense, considering that it's April, is looking very, very solid."

"I'm taking more interest in baseball than I did in the past," Susan said. "It's natural that I would, I guess, living here with Arlie and Toby and them constantly talking baseball. Christy, too, although sometimes she pretends to be bored with it all."

"Pace yourself," Dan said, smiling. "It's a long, long season."

"You really look the part, you know," Susan said.

"How so?" he said, but he thought he knew what she was going to say.

"You're so ... so damned strong looking. Sturdy. But you look more like a home run hitter than my idea of a pitcher."

"We pretty much come in all shapes and sizes," he said.

"How are we going to do this?" Susan said, abruptly leaving the subject of baseball.

"You mean, see each other? It won't be easy. If you were living alone, working days or something, you could show up at lots of games and we could leave together, after."

"But instead, the only time I can leave here is when Arlie's home."

"Too bad I don't play for the Cubs," Dan said. "Lots more day games. Many more free evenings."

"Setting aside the little detail that then you'd be living in Chicago," Susan said. "Well, there's always Sundays."

"Don't forget, we're only here -- in town I mean -- fifty percent of the Sundays," Dan said.

"It's going to be pretty tough, working this out," she said.


"It's no big problem for me, coming by here to see you late after the night games," he said. "I can sleep in as long as necessary in the morning."

"But I can't," Susan said, frowning. "Gotta get up and get the kids going."

"On non-school nights, though, you could stay up late. Just put the Saturday and Sunday morning breakfast duties on Arlie. I know Simon Legree has to be allowing you to leave here at some point."

"So, your proposal is, you come by after the Friday and Saturday games, and we sit out on the front porch and neck, and drink coffee with real caffeine in it. Is that the deal?"

"I thought that sometimes we could maybe go back to my place. It's only, oh, maybe twenty minutes away."

"And then, you bring me back here in the wee hours, and I sleep in, leaving breakfast duty to Arlie?"

"Or not," Dan said.

"Not leaving breakfast to Arlie?"

"No. Not bringing you back here in the wee hours."

She gave her best imitation of a woman scandalized by the suggestion. "You mean ... spend the night at your place?"

"Are you shocked at the suggestion?" he asked.

"Shocked? Moi? No, although we haven't got much of a history yet, have we?"

"I'll be pleased to keep coming by for those front-porch-swing after-the-game dates, at least starting next month when the nights are a little warmer. I'll do that as long as you require. And on open dates, when the club's at home, and on Sunday nights after a day game, we can have real dates, like normal people."

"But no spending the night at your place?"

"Not until you say the word," Dan said.

"Thunderbird!" Susan said.

"Say what?"

"Thunderbird," she repeated. "Isn't that 'the word?'"

Dan smiled. "What a damned shame that we're back on the road again this week, starting Thursday!"

"Yes," Susan said. "Friday night would be ideal for a pajama party."

"But we'll be back in town again the Friday after next," he said.

"Ten days," Susan said.

"Long time."

"You have no idea!" she said.

Dan got suddenly serious. "Susan, if you're just teasing me here, please tell me so now. Because I'm not. Teasing. Last night, I really thought we, you know, connected. I mean, I'm not just kidding around here."

"We need to get to know each other, Dan. We both know that much. But ten days from now, I'm bringing my toothbrush to your place after Friday night's game, and I'm telling Arlie not to look for me until around noon on Saturday."

"So ... you're not just kidding around either, are you?" Dan said.

"Sex is no laughing matter -- not if you're doing it right," she said. "Now, go on home before I throw you down and fuck you right here in Arlie's foyer!"

They didn't fuck in the foyer, but neither did Dan go home immediately as ordered. Instead, they adjourned to the living room couch and engaged in a half hour of intense petting. It was reminiscent of high school days, with Arlie serving as Parent, sleeping upstairs.

Susan knew there was no real barrier to her taking Dan upstairs to her bedroom that very moment and getting it on, adult-style. She didn't believe that Arlie would seriously object, and the children's bedrooms were well out of earshot at the other end of Arlie's aged, solidly built house.

But she knew that it was terribly early in the relationship. Susan was now reasonably confident that Dan didn't think she was a slut. He just thought she was hot for his body -— which she most certainly was!

Meanwhile, ten days from now, she had a date that was going to be an all-nighter in Dan's bed, a mere twenty minutes away from this very spot.

She could do ten days. It wouldn't be easy, but she could do it.

While the Birds were making their first swing through the AL Central, Susan concentrated on her household duties, work on the novel, and making initial contact with Zeke Taylor's New York editor, Gwen Riordan.

As he had promised, Taylor had skillfully paved the way for Susan's telephone call, up to and including an explanation to Riordan about the difficulty Susan would experience in getting to New York for an interview.

It was agreed that Riordan would be sent lengthy excerpts from the manuscript, along with a biographical sketch and a list of Susan's published stories and poems. When Susan and Arlie worked out a suitable time for the young woman's one-day trip to Manhattan, Susan would be back in touch.

"I'm sorry I can't just arrange an appointment suitable to you right this minute," Susan said. "You're being very patient with me."

"This works fine for me," Gwen Riordan said. "It just makes sense to see your manuscript before you come up here. And the timing of your trip is obviously going to be easier for me to accommodate than it is for you to plan."

Susan laughed. "And if you just hate the novel, we can always call the whole thing off, with nobody hurt but U. S. Air."

"Nothing like thinking positive," Riordan said. "I'm confident that your novel will at least rate a meeting. But I think you should investigate Amtrak. It's less of a hassle than flying up here, and when you factor in the to-and-fro from airports, it's almost as fast."

Susan Fed Ex'ed the first six chapters of her novel to Riordan that same afternoon.

It was the last Friday in April, and the Texas Rangers were in town to open a four-game series at Camden Yards that night. The Orioles had already been back home for three days, coming off a three-game sweep of the White Sox.

This was the night that Dan Preston was going to drop by to pick up Susan for their very late date. This time, they were not going to restrict themselves to late-night necking in the Stone living room while watching Letterman's lame musical guests and the opening monologue of one of the late-late talk shows.