A Hopeless Game

by Daniel Carson

  “You come here to work, Wilma?” I asked.

  She wiped her hands down the front of her blue pantsuit as if she were brushing off the very thought of doing manual labor. “As mayor of our fine town, I like to check up on our citizens. This is a terrible tragedy for Henry Tanaka, and I want him to know the full weight of my office will be here to assist him.”

  “I think he’d just prefer some money.”

  She patted me on the shoulder. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t have any. Money, that is.” She winked at me. “Goodbye Hope. Goodbye, Sheriff Kramer.”

  As she turned and walked toward Mr. Tanaka, I frowned at Alex. “I need some professional advice here, Sheriff. Is it legal to punch the mayor in the back of the head?”

  He frowned as if considering. “Only on Tuesdays. Sorry.”

  “What if I just threw my shoe at her?”

  Alex rubbed his chin and smiled. “Hm. That one’s a bit of a gray area.”

  Wilma was now shaking Mr. Tanaka’s hand in the double-fisted manner that politicians often do. She spent a whole two minutes with him, probably spouting off platitudes the entire time. She shook his hand again as if to mark the completion of this obligatory conversation, and then she and her pantsuit were gone.

  “In case it wasn’t clear, I really do hate her,” I said almost dreamily.

  “It was pretty clear,” said Alex.

  “But understand why. She comes off nice at times. Mayor. Businesswoman. But I know the truth. She’s up to something. And it’s not just a little bad… it’s a lot bad. That’s the worst kind of evil. Even worse than your girlfriend.”

  “And now Rebecca’s my girlfriend?”

  “Not that girlfriend. Your other girlfriend. Ol’ Hot Lips herself. Gemima.”

  “Hang on. In this world of yours I now have two girlfriends?”

  “At least. And Rebecca’s not evil—I just don’t like her—but Gemima is. At least in the garden-variety sense. A buffoonery kind of evil. Like Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazzard.”

  Alex smiled. “Gemima’s got a better figure than Boss Hogg.”

  “You would say that, seeing as she’s your girlfriend and all.”

  Alex laughed. Then he paused and looked right at me. He was tall. Good-looking. Wide shoulders. Lean frame. Piercing green eyes. A nauseatingly almost-perfect package.

  “Can we be serious for a moment?” he said.

  That made me nervous. And I didn’t like being nervous. “Honestly, Alex? This whole not being serious with you has been the best time I’ve spent with you since Old Boss Hogg herself decided to give you a tonsillectomy.”

  “I’ve said I’m sorry about that.”

  “And I believe you. I really do. I just…” I took a breath.

  He leaned in. “Just what?”

  “I just want to go back… back to how things were before. Where we joke with each other and you get annoyed with how I solve all the murders in town and you don’t because you’re so terrible at it.”

  “I wouldn’t say terrible.”

  “What would you say then? That I’m the Harlem Globetrotters of murder-solving and you’re the Washington Generals?”

  He laughed. “Is this your way of telling me you want to be just friends?”

  There were those words. Just friends.

  The truth was…

  I was a thirty-two-year-old woman, and it had been a lifetime since I’d been more than friends with anyone. And though he was proud and frustrating… Alex Kramer was also decent. And more than a little handsome. And when he and his green eyes looked at me in the way that made me wobbly, I definitely did not want to be just friends.

  But the problem was, I didn’t want to risk not being friends with him. Alex and I giving each other crap? I could handle that. Him and I flirting? Although I was a bit rusty in that department, I could handle that too. But if it became more than that… then there was the distinct possibility that it wouldn’t work. It might be weird. Or just so-so. Maybe the possibility of him would be better than the reality of him. And then what? Would we still be friends?

  And there was something else, too. Alex and I could be great. We could be amazing. I really believed we could. But I’d already known amazing. I was lucky enough to meet the boy of my dreams when I was only sixteen. And… I lost him.

  What if that happened again? What if I lost Alex? Really lost him.

  I didn’t think I could handle that.

  “I don’t like the term ‘just friends,’” I finally said.

  “Then what do you prefer?”

  “How about…” I chewed on my lip. “How about… ‘just not yet.’”

  Alex left to do some proper sheriff work, and I went back to helping Granny and Bess with Mr. Tanaka’s shop. Other people from around town also trickled in to help. Trusty ol’ Zeke Roberson came by and did what he could despite the fragility of old age and a frame that might get swept up by a north wind. Stank and Cup showed up too—Stank with supplies from his hardware store and Cup with chocolate chip cookies from her bakery. And Flo from the beauty shop arrived already decked out in leather gloves, goggles, and a yellow hard hat. April’s Uncle Juan came by for a spell, as did Pastor Leif, who prayed with Mr. Tanaka. At lunch, Buck brought sandwiches for everyone. And little by little, the mess that had once been the Watering Can was getting cleaned up.

  I had just squeezed another bag of trash in the loaded-down dumpster when I noticed Mr. Tanaka on his phone. He looked agitated, like he had just received some very bad news—and when he ended the call, he looked like he wanted to scream.

  Granny and I exchanged a look.

  “What is it, Henry?” Granny said.

  “That was the insurance company. Apparently Chief Albrecht has told them he suspects arson.”

  “But don’t they have to do their own investigation?” I asked.

  “They do. But they said that given the conclusion of the local fire chief, sorting through this claim is likely to take a while.”

  “How long’s ‘a while’?” Granny asked.

  “Months. Maybe even a year.”

  “A year?” I said. “How can you go that long without rebuilding?”

  Mr. Tanaka shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I do,” said Granny. “Henry, I know you’re not going to like this… but you’ll just have to get over yourself. Got it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Granny.”

  “We’re planning on having a celebration for the football team after the game tonight, at the bar. But I say we go ahead and block off all of Main Street. Make it a block party. Tonight’s a town celebration. We’ll celebrate the football team all right, but we’re also going to raise money for one of our town’s best.”

  Mr. Tanaka shook his head fiercely. “Granny, you can’t do that.”

  She snapped her fingers. “I’m afraid you don’t have a say in it, Henry. Tonight, we celebrate and we raise money. You can’t wait a year to rebuild your business. I told you we’d get you back on your feet. And I meant it.”

  He started to protest again, but Granny gave him one of those Granny looks. He put his head down, and when he lifted it a few seconds later, he had a tear in his eye.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say nothing. You just keep doing what you need to do. We’ll handle the rest.”

  “How much money do you really think we can raise?” I asked quietly.

  Granny grinned. “You’d be surprised. Bess and I know where all the bodies are buried in this town.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that plenty of people owe us. I figured I’d call in those favors when I had to escape prison, but this is even better. Bess! I need your phone.”

  “How can I help?” I asked.

  “Spread the word, Hope. Block party tonight, after the football game. Tell people to bring th
eir appetites—and their wallets. Henry Tanaka needs our help. And we’re not going to let him down.”

  Chapter 3

  First I called Sheriff Kramer.

  “You want both of my girlfriends to come?” he asked.

  “If they’ve got money, I want all of your girlfriends to come,” I said.

  Then I called Earl Denton. He knew people with money. I told him to call all of them.

  “I hate asking people for money,” he grumbled.

  “Then I suggest you get your friend Jim Beam to give you an assist.”

  I called Juan, my friend who worked as a gardener at the Thorndale estate, and I texted Nick the Idiot Barista at A Hopeless Cup.

  And then I called my best friend, Katie.

  “Do I have to come?” she said in an incredibly whiny voice.

  “Yes, you have to come.”

  “But it’s been a long week and I’ve been looking forward to taking a bath and watching tasteless shows on Netflix.”

  “And instead, you get to come and support Mr. Tanaka—and hopefully celebrate the football team’s victory. Lucky you! You know what? You should just come to the game with me tonight.”

  “I can’t. Chris has a meeting of the local craft beer guild.”

  “There’s a craft beer guild?”

  “There is now. My idiot husband—”

  “Who you love with all your heart…”

  “Right, my idiot husband who I blah blah blah started a craft beer guild and made himself the president. So yippee, now he’s gone one Friday out of the month so he can support other local home brewers.”

  “Are there lots of other home brewers in Hopeless?”

  “Ernie from work, and three kids from the local college.”

  “That’s… sad.”

  “That’s what I said. But Chris claims he’s a craft beer pioneer. And then he decided that might be a good name for a YouTube show about beer: Craft Beer Pioneer. Hope, he’s thinking of starting a vlog. No joke. I thought childbirth would kill me, I often think motherhood will kill me, but I had no idea that the actual end of me would be due to Chris’s ridiculous hobby. I swear if I have to talk about craft beer one more time I’m going to lose my mind.”

  “All the more reason to bring the kids to the football game tonight. I’ll even help. I haven’t seen the kids this week.”

  “You’d help me with my kids at a football game? Do you realize what you’re getting into?”

  “If I knew what I was getting into I probably wouldn’t offer. But yes, I’ll help.”

  “And you’ll buy me a hot dog and popcorn?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ll change Celia if she has a blowout?”

  I hesitated. I’d experienced Celia’s blowouts before. They were… impressive, in a hide-the-women-and-children sort of way. I decided this was a bridge too far.

  “How about you change the blowouts but I buy you an extra hot dog?” I countered.

  “And?”

  “And… all the little Styrofoam cups of hot cocoa you can handle.”

  “You, my friend, have a deal. But wait a second… wait just a second. I heard a rumor that you’ve got a big date tonight.”

  “Wh—does the whole town know?”

  “Hey, when the great Hope Walker agrees to a date with Fireman Bob, that news travels fast.”

  “For the record, I never agreed to a date.”

  “People are saying he liked your underwear.”

  I groaned, then laughed in spite of myself. “Well, they are magically delicious.”

  “That’s exactly what I heard. So what’s the deal?”

  “The deal is, Fireman Bob told me we were going on a date, then left before I said anything in response.”

  “Then you, my darling, are going on a date.”

  “How can you be sure?” I asked.

  “Because unlike you, I actually know Fireman Bob.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She laughed. “Nothing. I just think you’re going to have a really great time tonight. And since you won’t be there to buy me hot dogs and hot cocoa, I don’t need to go to the game.”

  “That’s rotten, even for you.”

  “It’s called self-preservation, sweetie. But I will call some people and tell them to go to the party tonight. And you can count on me for twenty bucks for Mr. Tanaka.”

  Just then a truck honked as it came down Main Street. A fire truck. And who should be hanging off the side… but Fireman Bob.

  He waved at me as he passed and yelled out, “See you at six, Lucky Charms!”

  “What was that, Hope?”

  “Katie Rodgers, you were right.”

  “About what? I’m so rarely right about anything these days.”

  “About Fireman Bob. It appears I’ve got myself a date.”

  I’d come to some sort of a temporary understanding with Alex, and now I was preparing for a date with an entirely different man. And it had all happened on the same day.

  Weird.

  But it was also okay. At least for now. I didn’t know if I was truly ready for a serious date with Alex Kramer. Whereas I had little fear that a date with a man who called himself “Fireman Bob” threatened to be remotely serious. And for now, not-remotely-serious was a little more my speed.

  I wore perfectly plain underwear that actually fit. Dark jeans. High brown boots. A black turtleneck sweater. And a vest. Call it my Harrison Ford look.

  I walked outside to find Granny and Bess putting the finishing touches on the beer garden. Two different bars were set up, tables and chairs had been arranged all down Main Street, and temporary lights had been strung up everywhere. A stage area had even been cordoned off, and a local band was lugging some equipment into place.

  Granny was talking to a man I didn’t recognize, but I needed her opinion.

  “Do I look okay?” I asked.

  “You’re my granddaughter. You always look okay.”

  “I mean do I look good enough for a date. It’s… been a while.”

  “Honey, I haven’t been on a date in fifty-five years. Not sure I’m the right person to ask. But I thought the date was with Fireman Bob.”

  The man with Granny smiled. He was a nice-looking man, maybe mid to late forties, wearing khaki pants, a light-blue button-down shirt, and a blue sports coat. “I think you look great,” he said.

  “Thank you.” I extended my hand. “My name’s Hope Walker.”

  He took my hand and squeezed. “Kevin Sunderland. Pleased to meet you. You’ve got a date on the night of the big game?”

  Granny smiled. “Oh, she’ll be at the game.”

  “I will?”

  “She’s got a date with Fireman Bob.”

  The man laughed. “Then you’ll definitely be at the game.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Fireman Bob’s a huge football fan,” Kevin said. “Comes to all our games.”

  “‘Our games’? Are you a coach or something?”

  “Or something. Guess you could call me the team dad. I’m the head of the booster club. I organize team dinners, gifts for the coaches, that kind of thing. Just checking in with Granny on the preparations for tonight’s big celebration.”

  “Don’t you feel like you might be jinxing it a little bit?” I said. “Everybody seems awfully confident.”

  Kevin looked at Granny, who just shook her head. “Granddaughter, I don’t think you understand. I’ve been watching Idaho high school football for over seventy years. This isn’t just the best team Hopeless has ever had… this is one of the best football teams I have ever seen, period.”

  “Better than Grandpa’s team?”

  Granny smiled and nodded her head solemnly… the way she always did when she thought of Grandpa. Word was that my Grandpa Walker had been the best high school football player to ever come through Hopeless. When Granny was a sophomore, she couldn’t help but fall in love with the senior star. And when Grandpa w
ent on to play halfback at Boise State, she couldn’t help but fall in love with Boise State football, too. She’d been a huge football fan ever since. And if she said this was a great team, then I believed her.

  “My Marshall was a great player,” Granny said to Kevin. “As good a two-way player as central Idaho has ever seen. But even his team got knocked out in the first round of the playoffs. What Coach Mossback has done with these boys is nothing short of—"

  “Incredible,” Kevin said.

  “I was going to say impossible,” said Granny.

  “Why impossible?” I asked.

  Granny and Kevin exchanged a look. “You’ll have to forgive my Hope—she hasn’t been around in a while. Granddaughter, our football team has been the worst program in the state for the last ten years.”

  “More like twenty,” said Kevin.

  “And we’ve had some good players. Like Kevin’s son Elliot. He’s the best to come through these parts since my Marshall. He’d be great no matter who was the coach.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, Granny.”

  “I bet he’s a chip off the old block,” Granny said.

  Kevin laughed. “Not me. The athletic genes come from his mother. I was good at math. Still am.”

  “Not just math.” Granny looked at me and hitched a thumb at Kevin. “He also makes those weird ice sculptures.”

  Kevin grinned. “I know, math and ice sculptures. It’s like I’m competing for some kind of nerd Olympics.”

  “Well I’m just glad Elliot chose football instead. We all are.”

  Kevin looked proud. “He’s a good kid and he works hard. But Coach Mossback is the leader of this team. He’s…” He hesitated as if trying to find just the right word. Finally he shrugged and said, “He’s a miracle worker. First head job he ever had, at Pleasant View, he won the state championship in only his second year.”

  Granny shook her head with the kind of reverence she reserved for football coaches and gunsmiths.

  Kevin continued. “Even more incredible, after he won another title at Pleasant View, he headed off to Eden Park and… you guessed it… won two more two state titles before moving up and building a powerhouse out of Crete City.”