Misbehaving at Cactus Lanes by Patricia Santos Marcantonio

Author:Patricia Santos Marcantonio [Marcantonio, Patricia Santos]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008626389
Publisher: One More Chapter

At about nine thirty, the leagues began to wrap. Frank joined me.

“Enjoy the play?”

“Very much. You’re an amazing bowler, Frank.”

I was surprised when he blushed because anyone who had ever watched him must have told him the same thing.

The clamor as the players talked about their games and replaced equipment in bags fell off in a quiet space between Frank and me. This was not my imagination. In that space was a question I had to ask. I glanced over at Jo, who mouthed “What are you waiting for?”

“Frank, do you want to go have coffee? We can talk about … bowling.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great.”

“Let me put my equipment away in my office.”

“I mean if you’re tired, we can have coffee at the snack bar.”

“Have you tried the coffee here?” He put his hands to his throat in a mock yuck.

He headed off. I gazed at Jo with an expression of “What do I do now?” She tossed me an encouraging nod.

“It’s coffee, Margaret, not sex,” I whispered to myself. “God, I can’t believe I said, ‘sex’. God, I can’t believe I’m thinking about sex.”

Suddenly, Frank stood beside me. “You say something?”

“Nothing.”

“Ready?”

“I’ll drive.”

“I like a woman in charge.”

I wished I was one of them.

“You a native of Nevada, Maggie?”

“Yup. I should get a patch or something.”

“You should.”

“How about you, Frank?”

“My family ran a small grocery store in Henderson.”

“Hey, I grew up there. Where was your store?”

“On Sixteenth Street.”

“I’m sorry to say I never shopped there.”

“It was one of those stores selling a little bit of everything. Food, pots and pans, detergent. I used to sweep up and stock the shelves.”

The memories must have been happy. They were reflected on his face.

“I remember stores like that. Lots of characters with candy behind glass. Sausages hanging from the ceiling.”

“My dad’s place had tons of character, not to mention fruit in bins and a small deli.”

“I miss those. Now it’s like shopping at corporate grocers. Wide aisles. Clean floors. Stepford Wife clerks. No heart.”

“They scare me too.”

“How come you left the grocery business, Frank?”

“One word.”

“Bowling?’

“I loved it better than selling groceries.”

“Totally understandable.”

The only place I could think of to buy coffee was a Denny’s a few blocks away because there was always a Denny’s a few blocks from any point in the universe. Not the most romantic place, I thought as I drove into the parking lot. God, Margaret, it’s not a date, I assured myself. A meeting between teacher and student, or two bowling friends. Still, I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror before I got out of my car.

He ordered a large black coffee, none of those soy latte, non-fat beverages. I loved the simplicity. I ordered the same, although I’d been known to purchase a full-on, calorie-choked mocha every once in a while, especially when in a reckless mood. I should have asked for decaf because I was going to be up all night with the caffeine, but I didn’t want to be a wimp.

“Let’s get a piece of pie.” He eyed the dessert menu.

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