Зима тревоги нашей

           "Agoodkid!"hesaidexplosivelyandasthoughshockedbyhisshowofemotionhewentoutofthestoreandwalkedaway.

           IwasweighingouttwopoundsofstringbeansforMrs.DavidsonwhenMarullocamechargingback.Hestoodinthedoorwayandshoutedatme.

           "YoutakemyPontiac."

           "What?"

           "GosomeplaceSundayandMonday."

           "Ican’taffordit."

           "Youtakethekids.ItoldthegarageforyoutogetmyPontiac.Tankfullofgas."

           "Waitaminute."

           "Yougotohell.Takethekids."Hetossedsomethinglikeaspitballatmeanditfellamongthestringbeans.Mrs.Davidsonwatchedhimplungeawayagaindownthestreet.Ipickedthegreenwadfromthestringbeans—threetwenty-dollarbillsfoldedinatightsquare.

           "What’sthematterwithhim?"

           "He’sanexcitableItalian."

           "Hemustbe,throwingmoney!"

           Hedidn’tshowuptherestoftheweek,sothatwasallright.He’dnevergoneawaybeforewithouttellingme.Itwaslikewatchingaparadegoby,juststandingandwatchingitgobyandknowingwhatthenextfloatwouldbebutwatchingforitjustthesame.

           Ihadn’texpectedthePontiac.Heneverloanedhiscartoanybody.Itwasastrangetime.Someoutsideforceordesignseemedtohavetakencontrolofeventssothattheywerecrowdedclosethewaycattleareinaloadingchute.Iknowtheoppositecanbetrue.Sometimestheforceordesigndeflectsanddestroys,nomatterhowcarefulanddeeptheplanning.Iguessthat’swhywebelieveinluckandunluck.