HE HAD TO BE LEAVING.
When his dad came over for dinner, when it was an official visit to the house, scheduled in advance and not a drop-by, it almost always meant he was leaving the next day.
At least he had stayed a whole week this time. Longer, if you counted that first night in the driveway.
“Hold on there, Mr. Gloom and Doom,” Ali Walker said when Danny ran his theory past her. “He didn’t say anything about his travel plans.”
“He never does, until the last possible minute.”
“He just asked if it would be all right if the three of us had dinner. Even offered to take us out, sport. I told him to save his money, I’d whip up my famous Wasp Girl Lasagna.”
“At least he got to see me play at the fair,” Danny said.
She was setting the table. Resetting it, actually. That meant she was putting the forks on the outside of the napkins, knives on the inside, after Danny had once again managed to do it the other way around.
She looked up. “You didn’t tell me you saw him at the fair.”
“I don’t even know if he saw me see him. He was in the distance, kind of, just watching the game.”
“Anyway,” his mom said, “if he is leaving, he’ll tell you.”
“You don’t mind, by the way? Him coming over?”
She was back in the kitchen, opening the oven door, checking out the famous lasagna, which was better than you got at Fierro’s in town. “He’s your father. I have never tried to keep you two apart, you know that. I told him tonight that if you guys wanted to have a boys’ night out, go for it. He said, no, I was included.”
“He’s never not leaving when it’s one of these.”
“Double negative,” his mom, the English teacher, said.
“Just negative,” Danny said.
His dad showed up at six-thirty sharp, wearing a blue buttoned-down shirt, khaki slacks, the kind of nubuck shoes kids wore with their school clothes, his hair slicked back and still wet from his shower. He was carrying a bottle of wine.
Danny had been up in his room playing last year’s NBA game on PlayStation when he heard the doorbell. When he came down the stairs he noticed that his mom had found time to change out of her school clothes, into a green, silky-looking blouse with some kind of print on it you didn’t notice at first, and khaki-colored pants of her own, her slacks looking a lot nicer than what his dad had on.
The kind of dress-up clothes she’d wear when she went out to dinner with a friend. Male or female. Though, Danny had to say, there weren’t a lot of males in Middletown she would give the time of day to.
It was Danny’s impression that his mom was about as interested in dating as she was in video games.
But she’d dressed up tonight for his dad, whatever that meant. Maybe he’d ask Tess online later how much he should read into something like that.
Danny Walker, even at twelve, was smart enough to know this about girls: They were smarter than boys already. They were smarter about all the important stuff in life that didn’t include sports, and would stay smarter from now on, which meant that he and the rest of the boys would be playing catch-up, trying to come from behind, the rest of the way.
“You look nice,” his dad said.
“You still clean up pretty well yourself,” his mom said.
It was Will Stoddard’s theory that adults, even cool adults, behaved like space aliens about half the time, and now here it was right in front of Danny’s eyes: With all the rotten things his mom could say to his dad when they were alone, she still wanted to look her best when he came over.
The three of them sat in the living room before dinner, eating cheese and crackers. His mom drank some of the wine he’d brought. His dad drank beer out of a bottle. Danny got to have a Coke. On account of, he figured, this being a special occasion.
Whatever the occasion was.
His mom tried to find out how things were going for his dad in that casual way she had, asking questions you were supposed to believe had just popped into her head, all the time getting to the one she hoped would make you spill your guts.
He was still living in Oakland, he said, even though his lease was about to be up. Said the Warriors had talked about him doing some work for them in community relations, but he hadn’t decided yet. He had done some scouting for them in the past, but had quit that, saying he was tired of watching people he didn’t know or care about play games he couldn’t play.
He had thought assistant coaching might be different, taking a job at the University of San Francisco last season.
But he had quit that, too.
He had quit a lot of things since the accident, Danny knew.
“So it’s back to the card shows,” Ali Walker said. “Which you love so dearly.”
The most money he’d made the past several years was from making appearances at card and memorabilia shows.
“It’s not so bad if you limit the conversation.”
“Your specialty.” His mom smiling when she said it.
“Most people are all right. Step right up and see the guy who used to be Richie Walker.”
He drank down about half his beer in one gulp, like he was incredibly thirsty all of a sudden.
“You’re right,” he said. “I hate it.”
Now came one of those record-breaking, world-class silences that made you wonder if any member of the Walker family would say anything ever again.
Until Danny said: “When are you leaving?”
“It’s actually what I wanted to talk to you both about.”
She clapped her hands together. “Well, let’s do it at the dinner table, before the lasagna turns into leftovers.”
They passed the rolls and salad around. His dad remarked that her lasagna was as good as ever. She said, thank you, sir. She asked how things were at the place known in Middletown as the Inn. He said, hey, they even had cable there now.
Finally he put down his fork and said, “Listen, I’m thinking about hanging around for a while.”
His mom had her wineglass nearly to her lips, stopped it right there. “In Middletown?”
“Yeah.”
Danny thinking: Yeah!
His mom said, “What about the fabulous card-show appearances?”
“There’s enough of them around here,” he said. “Even though the money’s not that great for somebody like me anywhere.” He gave her a look and said, “As you know better than anybody else.”
“We’re all right, Rich.”
Danny couldn’t wait.
“What are you going to do here?” he said.
Richie Walker said, “I was thinking about coaching.”
Danny’s mom said, “You’re going to coach a team in Middletown?”
“Yeah, an opportunity just presented itself in the past couple of days.”
Danny and his mom waited. Sometimes you could try to wait his dad out on something and he’d be out the door and gone and you’d still be waiting. But this time was different, Danny’d had this feeling there was something he’d been waiting to tell them since he walked in the front door.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “it’s an opportunity I sort of created for myself.”
“Dad!” Danny didn’t mean it to come out as loud as it did, but there it was. “Who are you going to coach?”
“You,” he said.
“Me.”
His mom said, “In the Y league?”
Richie Walker was smiling now.
Even with his eyes.
“You know what this town needs even more than cable TV at the Inn?”
Danny grabbed his arm. “What?”
“Another seventh-grade travel team,” his dad said.