Page 18 of The New Place

“You hate those,” Abbot says.

“I am nobly helping a bridal party in need,” Pat says. “While Ned systematically gives away all the beer and wine in this place.”

Ned points at Claire’s glass. “Need a refill? Steve?”

“Sure,” Claire says, and Ned grabs her glass to fill it.

“I can’t,” Steve says. “I gotta hit the road.”

“Wait, tell us more about Adams,” Ned says.

“Newbury,” Steve says. “Focus on Newbury, not on Adams. I’m serious, alright?” He points a finger first at Abbot and then at Ned. And then he’s gone, weaving through the crowd, the door opening with a burst of frigid air.

“What’s going on?” Pat asks.

“Steve’s being weird as shit about things going on at Adams,” Ned says.

“Adams? Down in Boston?” Claire asks.

“Ned works there,” Pat says. “Don’t ask him about his papers. Abbot here is at Callahan, which is where Ned used to be, before he left me forever.”

“My daughter lives in Boston,” Ned explains.

“Left me all alone,” Pat continues.

“So I moved back to be with her when I graduated,” Ned says.

“Replacing me with the likes of that Steve guy.”

“Steve’s coming up to Callahan, apparently,” Ned says.

It shakes Pat out of his lament. “He is? Awesome.”

“Not awesome. What about our baseball team?”

“Me and Steve and Abbot all here in Portland? Ned, you won’t be able to stay away.”

“I don’t stay away as it is, and the amount I spend on gas will tell you that.”

“Do you think maybe Steve is coming up here because we’re actually cooler than you?” Pat asks.

“Impossible.”

“Or maybe he just really doesn’t like baseball?”

“Don’t even say that,” Ned says in a mock hurt voice. “That’s my star pitcher.”

Abbot rubs his hand across Ned’s. He could join the team at Adams. Not as a pitcher, of course. Or a batter, since Peggy’s T-ball set has been enough of a challenge. Or an outfielder, because catching a ball she actually connects on is really rather difficult.

But he could analyze their stats. Record box scores and provide Ned a level of detail no other recreational team could boast.

Again, that urge to go now to Boston rises through him. To talk to Ned about it at least, to plan, scheme, and dream together. “Ned,” he says, drawing a finger down the back of his hand.

Ned looks down at their hands, and then up to Abbot.

Abbot meant only to get his attention, but when Ned’s focus sharpens, Abbot’s piques too. Ned is here, in Portland, and they’re sitting in Pat’s bar, and surely neither of them wants to stay a moment longer.

Abbot stands as Ned does.