Point Blank

moment, nodded to Stupper Fulton, owner of Fulton’s Hardware, as his father had been before him, and said, “Not so’s you’d notice, Stup. Me and the boys will be sledding down Breaker’s Hill along with half the kids in town if this storm coughs up enough snow. If it coughs up too much, I’ll be all over town with a shovel, digging people out of ditches.”
    “Don’t think I’d want to sled in a storm,” Stup said. “At my age, I’d break bones if I hit a tree.”
    Dix saw Stup was obviously cold but he wasn’t moving. “You got something on your mind?”
    “Well, yeah, it’s like this, Dix. Rafer wants a job.”
    “Rafe’s fourteen, old enough, but his grades in English and biology stink, and I’ve already told him there’
    ll be no part-time job until he gets both of them to a B average. I’m trying to help him out myself, helping him build a model of the double helix for biology in the evenings and even reading Othello with him for English. The guy’s an idiot.”
    “Rafer? He’s not an idiot, Dix, he just needs some good motivation.”
    “No, Stup, not Rafer, this guy Othello. You know, the guy who murders his wife in Shakespeare’s play.”
    “Oh, well then. Rafer wants a job so much he even promised me he’d work extra fast, do all I asked him to do in half the time it would take anyone else, and then he’d study.”
    Dix laughed. “That kid’s always got a line. What did you tell him?”
    “That I’d speak to you about it.”
    “Tell him you pay by the hour, so if he does the work in half the time, he’ll only make half the money. Let
    ’s see what he has to say to that.”
    Stup rubbed his arms and broke into a grin. “That’s good, Dix. He’s supposed to come see me tomorrow, so I’ll try it.”
    Before he reached his Range Rover, Dix walked along High Street, as he usually did, and spoke to a half dozen more citizens of Maestro, including Melissa Haverstock, the local librarian, who asked him if he’d like to come with her to the First Methodist Church potluck supper on Saturday night. He kindly refused. When he pulled into his driveway eleven minutes later, it was already getting dark. He was getting real tired of the long winter nights. It was cold, the naked branches shuddering in the frigid air. He sniffed the air. Snow was coming, all right, he could smell it, heavy and moving closer. The house was all lit up, and that meant the boys were home or they had left and didn’t bother to turn the lights off. Who knew?
    He heard Brewster bark, knew he was waiting beside the front door, his tail wagging so fast it was a blur. Brewster tended to pee when he got excited, so Dix speeded up, hoping to head off an accident. It was Friday night and he’d have to nag Rob to do the laundry. The three of them had lived through pink shorts and undershirts until Rob finally got clued in to colors running in the washer. Rafer had worn a bathing suit under his jeans for a good two weeks after the guys in gym class laughed their heads off at him for being a girlie-man.
    Brewster, whose truly impressive bark exceeded his body weight by at least fifty pounds, tried to climb up his leg when he came in the house. “Hey, Brewster, you hanging in there, fella? Yeah, I’m home and we’re going to have a fine old time. And you didn’t even pee on my boots.” He picked up the four-pound toy poodle and laughed when he wildly licked his five o’clock shadow.
    “Hey, boys, you here?”
    Rafer sauntered in, shoulders slouched, yawning. “Hey, Dad. I’m here.”
    “Where’s your brother?”
    Rafer gave a trademark teenage shrug, Like ask me if I care. “Dunno, maybe he went over to Mary Lou’
    s house. He said he wanted to get in her pants.”
    “If he tries to get into Mary Lou’s pants her dad will skin off his face.”
    Rafer grinned at that. “That’s good, I’ll warn him, but you know, Dad, he gets this glazed look in his eyes when he’s with her, like he’s a little nuts. Oh, never mind.”
    “Yeah, you warn him, Rafe.” Of course Rob was nuts, he was a teenager. Given those raging hormones, it was a blessing there were fathers like Mary Lou’s. Her parents kept a tight rein on her, but he supposed he’d have to speak to Rob again, for the umpteenth time—the teenage boy and sexual responsibility talk, now that gave him a headache.
    “Rob did the laundry,” Rafer said. Dix felt a leap of pleasure, but it folded when Rafer snickered.
    “What color are our