I left the Beast in the front yard and walked into the house. My dad, seated in his chair in the living room by the fire, greeted me with a smile. “How was sledding? That’s some sled, right?”
“Dad, you have no idea.” He didn’t say anything, but he turned his gaze toward the fire. A twinkle in his eye told me that maybe he did.
The twinkle in his eye was extinguished when my mother called, “Donald, did you finish setting the table? The Windbaggers will be here any minute.”
I had never met the Windbaggers but somehow knew that I wouldn’t like them. Maybe it was because of the face my father made whenever my mother mentioned their name. It was a face like he was sucking on a lemon.
Moments later the doorbell rang. “Rodney, will you let them in?” my mom called from the kitchen. Penny beat me to it and opened the door. The Windbaggers rushed in along with an arctic chill.
“Cold out there!” Mr. Windbagger boomed, stomping the snow from his shoes on the mat.
“Oh, aren’t you precious?” Mrs. Windbagger said, patting Penny on the head. “What’s your name?”
“Penny.”
“Fred, isn’t she just adorable?”
“Gotta love a kid named after money,” Mr. Windbagger said. “And you must be Rodney? Heard a lot about you.” He stuck out his hand. I reached out and shook it. “No, no!” he said. “Your hand feels like a dead fish. Put some muscle into it.” I squeezed hard and jerked my arm up and down. “That’s it. When you’re in the business world, Rodney, a good handshake lets the other guy know who’s boss.”
Mr. Windbagger let go of my hand and turned to my dad, who had entered the hall and caught the end of the handshaking lesson. “Donald, good to see you.”
“You too, Fred.” My dad had that lemon face on.
Next thing I knew, their hands met with a thunderous clap. I watched their fingers tighten and their grins harden. I didn’t know if they were shaking hands or arm wrestling. Mr. Windbagger’s head turned red and a vein on my dad’s forearm began to bulge.
“Okay, you two, stop horsing around,” my mom said. “Let’s go have some appetizers by the fire. Donald, fix the drinks. Rodney, take the coats.” My dad and I attended to our assigned tasks, and fortunately, unlike my father, I was able to sneak off to the den to play video games.
Before I logged on to the game, I checked my e-mail. There was a message waiting for me from Timmy. It read,
Rodney, I have the best news! While he was choking me, Rocco mentioned that he might be moving! Isn’t that great?
I smiled as I wrote back congratulating him. Maybe things really do work out for the best. Grinning, I clicked off the computer and clicked on the game console. I had just blasted my fifth Nazi when my dad appeared next to me on the couch.
“This two-player?”
“It can be,” I told him. My dad picked up the other controller and joined in. Together we blew up a machine-gun nest and a tank.
Penny, who always seemed to sense when I was having fun, came in and announced, “Mom says you need to wash up for dinner.” She then added, “Dad, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be with the Windbaggers. Mom wouldn’t like it if she knew . . .”
“I was just fixing a draft.” Dropping the controller, he sprinted back to the living room as I headed for the bathroom. After rinsing my hands, I sat down at my seat at the dining room table before the adults entered.
The heavy steps of Mr. Windbagger banged down the wood floor in the hall. He walked in and planted himself in my dad’s seat at the head of the table. As my dad entered behind him, I could see his eyes narrow. He looked like he was about to resume shaking hands. Before he could start anything with Windbagger, though, my mom suggested, “Donald, why don’t you sit between Penny and me down here?”
Mr. Windbagger’s mouth immediately started blabbing. “What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”
“Spaghetti,” my mom answered.
“You New Yorkers and your fancy foreign foods.” He shook his head and laughed, shoved some pasta into his mouth, and went right on talking. “I got one heck of a deal on a new Cadillac. Rodney, after dinner I’ll take you for a ride. It’s got heated seats.”
“Wonderful,” I said. My mom caught my sarcasm and flashed me a look.
Suddenly Mr. Windbagger swung his leg up on the table, almost toppling my glass of milk. He pulled his pant leg up to his knee, and I looked at his fleshy, hairy calf. The spaghetti lost some appeal. “You see these socks, Rodney? They’re silk. Cost more than this table.” He rapped his knuckles on the oak. “Do you know what that says to people?”
That you’re nuts, I thought.
“It says this guy’s a success. People say, ‘That’s the guy I want handling my money.’”
I noticed my dad refill his wineglass.
My mom cut in. “Donald and I are so glad you could join us for dinner. . . . Right, Donald . . . Donald?”
“Absolutely.” He choked.
My mom went on. “With most of our friends and family living back east, it’s nice to have an evening like this, with new friends. And speaking of our friends back in New York, I have a little announcement I wanted to share with my kids.”
Mrs. Windbagger smiled kindly at Penny and me.
My mom continued, “I was talking to my friend Michelle, back in Bayside, about how nice it is here. Her husband, Vinny, works from home. He can basically live and work anywhere, and they don’t need to be paying New York’s high prices.” I didn’t know what this had to do with me, but at least it shut up Mr. Windbagger for a moment. “Anyway, they’ve decided to visit Ohio, to see if they like it, and if they do, they’re going to move here. If everything goes according to schedule, they’ll be here before the spring. Isn’t that great news?”
“Who’s Michelle and Vinny again?” I asked.
“Rodney, you know. The Ronbonis. Rocco’s parents.”
I choked on a meatball. Penny turned to me. “As in Rocco Ronboni!”
I thought about the e-mail I had just read from Timmy. Rocco was moving, all right. He was moving here! It was now only a matter of time. I could almost hear my last minutes ticking down like a clock inside my head. My nice little run was over.