They brought all the groceries to Mr. C’s.

Doris immediately set Charles to work chopping things, and Beverly went back to Mr. Denby’s office.

He was dressed and wearing a tie that didn’t have a fish on it. His hair was combed, and he was sitting at his desk and sorting through papers. The little fan was plugged in, twirling back and forth at his feet.

“Merry Christmas,” Beverly said to him.

“Right,” he said.

“Here,” said Beverly. She handed him the photo of the Denby family Christmas.

“What’s this?” He squinted at the picture.

“It’s you,” she said. “Being happy. It was in the safe. I took it. I borrowed it for a while. I’m sorry. I’m giving it back.”

Mr. Denby stared at the photograph as if he had never seen it before.

“Look how small Anne was,” he said finally. “And look, Margaret’s tooth is missing.” He reached out and touched each of the girls’ faces one by one.

“And that’s your wife?” said Beverly.

“Yes.” He put the picture down on the desk. He sighed.

“That’s when you were all in Pennsylvania together?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Denby. “That’s correct. Thank you for returning it.”

“Mr. Denby —” she said.

A scream came from the kitchen. It sounded like Iola.

“What now?” said Mr. Denby.

And then somebody was standing at the door to Mr. Denby’s office. It was a man wearing a ski mask and a tank top, carrying a baseball bat.

“This is a stickup,” the masked man said.

“A what?” said Mr. Denby.

“Jerome?” said Beverly.

“Yeah?” said Jerome, turning toward her.

“Is that a Wiffle bat?” she said.

“Yeah?” said Jerome. “So what? Give me all the money in the safe, or else I’ll bash your heads in.”

“With a Wiffle bat?” said Beverly.

“This doesn’t seem right,” said Mr. Denby.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” said Jerome. He waved the bat through the air. It made a swishing noise.

“Let’s all just be calm,” said Mr. Denby.

“I am calm,” said Jerome. “I’m real calm. Give me the money — all the money in the safe. Put it in here.” He held out a paper grocery sack.

“I have three daughters,” said Mr. Denby. “This money is not my money to give away.”

“That’s the truth,” said Doris. She was standing in the doorway to the office with her arms crossed. Iola was behind her, and behind Iola, Beverly could see Charles’s green knit cap.

“Give me the money!” shouted Jerome. He swung the Wiffle bat down on the orange chair. It made a sad-sounding thwack.

“Just give him the money, Mr. Denby,” said Beverly.

“But that’s not fair,” said Mr. Denby.

“Don’t you give him that money,” said Doris.

“Is that a Wiffle bat?” said Charles.

“I will hurt somebody!” shouted Jerome. “I promise I will hurt somebody.”

Mr. Denby turned to the safe. He picked up the stacks of bills and put them in the grocery bag that Jerome was holding out to him. “This is not right,” said Mr. Denby. “This is not right at all.”

Jerome turned around. “Move,” he said to Doris.

“No,” she said.

“Move!” He raised the bat.

Iola put her hand on Doris’s shoulder. “Step back, honey,” she said. “Let him go.”

Jerome went out the door of the office, and then he turned back and looked right at Beverly. He took off the ski mask. He said, “If you call the cops, I’ll come back here to this stupid fish place and break everybody’s bones. I promise you I will.”

And then he was gone. Beverly heard the kitchen door slam.

“Call the police!” said Iola.

“No,” said Mr. Denby.

“I’ll get him,” said Beverly.

Charles said, “You take the front door. I’ll take the back.”

Beverly went out the front door of Mr. C’s and into the bright light. She blinked. Jerome’s truck was sitting in the parking lot.

The engine was running, and Freddie was in the driver’s seat. She was looking at herself in the rearview mirror. She was applying mascara.

Beverly went over to the truck and knocked on the window. Freddie jumped.

Beverly made the gesture to roll down the window.

Freddie looked all around the empty parking lot, and then she slowly rolled down the window.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I think you’re supposed to be out back,” said Beverly.

Freddie blinked. “Why?” she said.

“Because that’s the door that Jerome went out of,” said Beverly. “With the money.”

“Are you sure?” said Freddie.

“Yep,” said Beverly. “I’m sure.” She smiled. “Anyway, I think you might be too late. Charles — you know Charles, broken Charles, Charles who used to play football? — he’s out back. He’s probably already caught Jerome.”

Freddie slammed the truck into reverse and went screeching out of the parking lot.

Beverly stood there for a minute, still smiling.

It was hot.

She could smell the ocean and fried fish and exhaust. And underneath that, there was the smell of something else. What was it?

Turkey.

Christmas.

Doris and Iola must have put the turkey in the oven.

Beverly walked back behind Mr. C’s. She went past the kitchen and headed down to the water. She saw Charles’s cap — green against the blue. She walked closer and saw that Jerome was facedown in the sand. Charles was sitting on top of him, smiling.

He saw Beverly. He took his hat off and waved to her. “I got him!” he shouted. “I got him.”

“Good!” she shouted back. She stood and stared at the water, and at Charles sitting on top of Jerome, and suddenly, what Beverly wanted more than anything else in the world was to see Elmer’s face.

She turned around. She put her back to the ocean and headed up to the road. She turned left and started walking down A1A in the direction of Zoom City.

She walked past the phone booth, and then she turned and went back.

She opened the door and went inside.