Page 12 of The Bad Weather Friend

The LEDs behind her retinas dimmed. “That’s not an option.”

He had taken a key ring from his pocket. It held two keys—one to his house, one to hers. “I don’t want to give your key back. It means the world to me, having your key.”

She smiled. “Then you keep it, sweetheart.”

“Really? I can keep it?”

“If it means that much to you, of course. I’ve already had the locks changed.”

He followed her out of the kitchen, along the hallway, to the front door. “I had a ... a conversation with Handy Duroc. I left Surfside this morning. Did you know about that?”

“How could I not know, sweetie? Everybody knows. The word is out.” Jill opened the door, stepped outside, and turned to him. “Don’t let the bastards get you down, Benny.”

“Bastards? What bastards? Who?”

“I don’t know who. The usual bastards, I guess. The world’s full of them these days. Take Bobby McFerrin’s advice.”

“Bobby who?”

She sang the title of McFerrin’s number one hit. “‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy.’”

“You just said ‘misery forever.’ How can I be happy if I’m on a path of misery forever?”

“The path you’re on would be miseryfor me, Benny. Maybe not for you. You’ll have some kind of life, just a lesser life than the one we planned together.”

“Why?”

“I really don’t know why. Something you did to someone, I guess. I can’t be caught in this.”

“I didn’t do anything to anyone. I’m not the kind who does something to anyone.”

“Then maybe it was something you didn’t do. Anyway, honey, there’s no reason you can’t have a nice little life and be happy. Most people never snatch the brass ring, yet they can be happy in their nice little lives.”

“But I want a big life.”

Even the pity with which she regarded him didn’t make her any less beautiful in his eyes. “We all do, honey. That’s why we need to be careful, very careful.”

“I’m careful,” he assured her.

“Evidently not careful enough. Maybe you should get a dog.”

“A dog? Why a dog?”

“For companionship. People can stave off depression if they have a great dog.”

“I’m not depressed, just confused.”

She gave him a meaningful look. No one was better at meaningful looks than Jill. “Consider a dog, sweetie.”

With that, she turned from him. Went to her gleaming, midnight-blue Mercedes in the driveway. Got behind the wheel. Drove away.

Benny stood on his doorstep, watching her go until she was out of sight. He was alone on the table, a mere dessertspoon in an incomplete and meaningless place setting.

His phone rang. Certain it must be Jill, that she realized she had made a terrible mistake, that she wanted to patch things up, he took the call. A woman from Mayweather Universal Air Freight wanted to know if someone would be at home between nine and ten o’clock the following morning to receive a deliveryfrom Talmadge Clerkenwell of Boca Raton, Florida. “Sure,” Benny said. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

(In spite of the cryptic and disturbing video card that Benny received from that old man in Florida, he remains able to consider the possibility that the inheritance he is about to receive will be a great good. If you’re a bitter cynic or merely a sour one, you might find his hopefulness frustrating and wish to see him learn a hard, painful lesson. That is how a story can go wrong and encourage the worst of human behavior in the reader. We should hope the tale doesn’t take such a turn, because Benny is one of us, after all, and wishing horrific pain on him is like wishing it on ourselves—though it’s the kind of narrative drama that makes authors chortle with wicked glee.)

LISTENING TO “DON’T WORRY, BE HAPPY” IN THE WAKE OF JILL’S REJECTION, BENNY REMEMBERS HIS GRANDMOTHER

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