I never dreamed that Steve could play the piano, let alone sing like a cross between Elvis and Paul McCartney.’ By the time Steve limped into the Anderson home, he was sore and exhausted. He turned to go into Kate’s bedroom. He was using hers so he would not have to navigate the stairs. Kate was doubling up with Gwen. ‘I’ll be in to change your dressings once I get into something more comfortable,’ promised Gwen as she headed up the stairs. Steve closed the door and unbuckled his belt. He allowed his trousers to drop and stepped out of them. With some effort, he bent over and picked them up and laid them on a chair. Then he managed to remove his sling with his good arm, smiled as he untied his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Clad only in his boxers, he gazed into the mirror. His chest was tender but appeared to be okay. The bandage on his right leg was red from blood, as was the right leg of his boxer shorts. This concerned him. There was a rap on the door and then it. That's where they ran into Bob.Bob Rice was manager of the Sporting Goods Department at March's. They all knew each other casually, nodding acquaintances. The store seemed like a large place, but if you worked there awhile, you became aware of everybody else that worked there. So when they stumbled into each other that night, it was like an unexpected meeting of old friends. They exchanged greetings much more warmly than they ever had at work. The spirit of the holiday was at work. It seemed Bob was there with a friend, whose wife was working at one of the stands. He wondered off on his own while his buddy stopped to visit her."And where's your wife tonight?" Marion asked."Ex-wife," he responded jokingly, "and I don't really care where she is, as long as it isn't here." That puts you and Gail in the same boat. Mine is working tonight."He looked at Gail and smiled, "Another happy loser. How long have you been a member of our little club?" Five years and counting." I've got you beat,.
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