glove. Even though I hate it, it's probably worth forty bucks."
They were sitting privately on the back patio after lunch. The babies were having their naps, and Poochie was, as usual, crouched in front of the TV with his thumb in his mouth.
"I know it sounds weird," Caroline explained, "but I think when you're in HUGE financial trouble, you can still eat steak and chicken breasts. It's
small
financial trouble, like Mom has, when you have to eat hamburger and chicken livers. This is different."
J.P. picked at a splintered corner of the picnic table. "Yeah," he said, "I guess. And I feel bad for him in a way. But it must be his own fault. He must be a bad businessman."
Caroline stretched her legs out in the sunshine. She watched a bird hop from one end of a tree branch to another. She yawned. One of the babies had fussed during the night and woken her up several times. "I feel sorry for him," she said. "He said everything had always been just fine. And then a couple of months ago he had to fire somebody, and that started a whole run of bad luck."
"Why did he have to fire somebody?"
Caroline laughed. "The guy stole two tennis rackets. What a stupid thing to do. He probably made a good salary. It was the guy who ran Dad's computer. Wouldn't you think he could afford to
buy
tennis rackets?"
J.P. sat up straight suddenly. "Dad has a
computer?
"
Caroline shrugged. "That's what he said. What's the big deal about that? Don't most stores have computers these days?"
J.P. looked stricken. "I don't believe it," he groaned. "All this time, he has a computer down at the store, and he didn't even tell me. He's got me coaching this ridiculous baseball team, and I
could
have been down at the store hacking around on his computer. I
could
have been having a decent summer."
Caroline stood up. "I have to do the lunch dishes," she said. "I wish you'd quit feeling so sorry for yourself and start feeling sorry for Dad. You're having a rotten summer, true. But
he's
going to have a rotten
life
if he goes bankrupt."
But J.P. wasn't listening to her. He was slumped over, with his head hanging down and his elbows on his scrawny knees. "He didn't even tell me," he muttered. "I could have been in there all day. I could even have
worked
for him, running the computer. I wouldn't even steal stupid tennis rackets."
He was still muttering as Caroline headed for the house.
"Don't sit so close," she said automatically to Poochie as she passed, and he moved his head a fraction of an inch away from the TV screen.
One of the babies began to wail.
An hour later, Caroline was rocking the baby wearing the yellow sunsuit, trying to get her back into her usual good mood. But she squirmed in Caroline's lap, whimpered, and pulled at her own ear.
"Poochie," Caroline said finally, "please, would you turn off the TV for a while? With the baby crying, it's really driving me crazy. J.P.'s out back. Why don't you see if he'll toss a few balls for batting practice?"
Poochie turned the TV off, stood up, rubbed his eyes, and looked through the window. J.P. was still at the picnic table, staring into space.
Poochie frowned apprehensively. "He looks like he's thinking," he said.
Caroline leaned forward and observed her brother. "Yeah," she agreed. "That's his 'I'm thinking' look. Maybe we'd better not disturb him."
But suddenly, as they watched, J.P. leaped to his feet. He clapped his hands together. "Obvious!" he said aloud. They could hear him through the open window. "
Totally
obvious!"
He came charging through the kitchen door and let it bang shut behind him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen floor with his arms out and his shoulders straight and his chin up. He looked like Clark Kent immediately after he had changed into Superman.
"Totally, wickedly, completely,
awesomely,
OBVIOUS!" J.P. bellowed. "I have to call Dad. What's the phone number of the store, Pooch? I need it instantaneously."
Poochie shrugged. "I dunno. Wait a minute." He went to the
They were sitting privately on the back patio after lunch. The babies were having their naps, and Poochie was, as usual, crouched in front of the TV with his thumb in his mouth.
"I know it sounds weird," Caroline explained, "but I think when you're in HUGE financial trouble, you can still eat steak and chicken breasts. It's
small
financial trouble, like Mom has, when you have to eat hamburger and chicken livers. This is different."
J.P. picked at a splintered corner of the picnic table. "Yeah," he said, "I guess. And I feel bad for him in a way. But it must be his own fault. He must be a bad businessman."
Caroline stretched her legs out in the sunshine. She watched a bird hop from one end of a tree branch to another. She yawned. One of the babies had fussed during the night and woken her up several times. "I feel sorry for him," she said. "He said everything had always been just fine. And then a couple of months ago he had to fire somebody, and that started a whole run of bad luck."
"Why did he have to fire somebody?"
Caroline laughed. "The guy stole two tennis rackets. What a stupid thing to do. He probably made a good salary. It was the guy who ran Dad's computer. Wouldn't you think he could afford to
buy
tennis rackets?"
J.P. sat up straight suddenly. "Dad has a
computer?
"
Caroline shrugged. "That's what he said. What's the big deal about that? Don't most stores have computers these days?"
J.P. looked stricken. "I don't believe it," he groaned. "All this time, he has a computer down at the store, and he didn't even tell me. He's got me coaching this ridiculous baseball team, and I
could
have been down at the store hacking around on his computer. I
could
have been having a decent summer."
Caroline stood up. "I have to do the lunch dishes," she said. "I wish you'd quit feeling so sorry for yourself and start feeling sorry for Dad. You're having a rotten summer, true. But
he's
going to have a rotten
life
if he goes bankrupt."
But J.P. wasn't listening to her. He was slumped over, with his head hanging down and his elbows on his scrawny knees. "He didn't even tell me," he muttered. "I could have been in there all day. I could even have
worked
for him, running the computer. I wouldn't even steal stupid tennis rackets."
He was still muttering as Caroline headed for the house.
"Don't sit so close," she said automatically to Poochie as she passed, and he moved his head a fraction of an inch away from the TV screen.
One of the babies began to wail.
An hour later, Caroline was rocking the baby wearing the yellow sunsuit, trying to get her back into her usual good mood. But she squirmed in Caroline's lap, whimpered, and pulled at her own ear.
"Poochie," Caroline said finally, "please, would you turn off the TV for a while? With the baby crying, it's really driving me crazy. J.P.'s out back. Why don't you see if he'll toss a few balls for batting practice?"
Poochie turned the TV off, stood up, rubbed his eyes, and looked through the window. J.P. was still at the picnic table, staring into space.
Poochie frowned apprehensively. "He looks like he's thinking," he said.
Caroline leaned forward and observed her brother. "Yeah," she agreed. "That's his 'I'm thinking' look. Maybe we'd better not disturb him."
But suddenly, as they watched, J.P. leaped to his feet. He clapped his hands together. "Obvious!" he said aloud. They could hear him through the open window. "
Totally
obvious!"
He came charging through the kitchen door and let it bang shut behind him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen floor with his arms out and his shoulders straight and his chin up. He looked like Clark Kent immediately after he had changed into Superman.
"Totally, wickedly, completely,
awesomely,
OBVIOUS!" J.P. bellowed. "I have to call Dad. What's the phone number of the store, Pooch? I need it instantaneously."
Poochie shrugged. "I dunno. Wait a minute." He went to the
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