andrea watched the dufus looking guy in the delivery man’s uniform trudge back to his van. he got into it and took off quickly, down wayne toward main street, without circling back or passing andrea.
what was that all about? probably nothing. but just in case there was, she would have to tell pete and woody, and then they would tell joe, and you never knew with joe, he might just shrug it off - or, he might make a very big deal out of it indeed.
with a sigh, andrea took a key out of her pocket and opened the door of the diner. she shook the rain off her umbrella, folded it up and brought it behind the counter. she switched the lights on.
*
barry decided to forget about his dream, and 53 wayne street, and his new life, and the world’s old and new religions, and just get to the office and make his deliveries, and not think about anything except making the deliveries until he finished them.
he had always prided himself on being able to put aside his worries - even when the twins or the cubs suffered some really heartbreaking losses - and just do his job.
*
pete arrived at the same time he did every morning - as soon as andrea had finished getting the diner set up, so that there was almost never anything left to do that she might suggest that he help out with.
as a member of the gang, pete did not have to pay for his coffee and donut. at least he went behind the counter and got them himself, instead of waiting for andrea to get them for him.
when the gang had first set up the diner as their headquarters, pete and woody and the two johns had taken for granted that andrea and susan would wait on them whenever they were in the diner, either because they had been summoned there, or when they were just hanging out.
andrea and susan had complained to joe, and joe had taken their side. the four had been somewhat consternated by his decision, but after a little bit of grumbling and headscrathing, had not thought it worth their while to argue with joe about it.
not that any of them were much for arguing with joe about anything.
of the four, pete spent the most time in the diner, usually with his guitar. sometimes, when there were few or no customers in the place, mournfully plunking on it and humming to himself, but most of the time just staring into space.
this morning, after pete had poured his coffee and was deciding whether to have a plain doughnut or a sugar doughnut, andrea described her encounter with the inquisitive delivery man.
“doesn’t sound like much to me, the guy got lost in the rain, that’s all.”
“i didn’t like his looks,” andrea insisted. “and that crap about mickey or mumbo or whatever, it sounded like he was going to give a secret password.”
“he was looking for 53? this isn’t 53, it’s 57.”
“maybe there is somebody in 53 who is watching us, ever think of that?”
pete rolled his eyes. “well, what do you want me to do about it?”
“tell joe. i think he should know about it.”
“fine. i'll tell him when he comes in.” pete picked up his coffee and donut and started to move around the corner to his booth by the window. “his” booth, which he had worn down a sagging spot in.
“he might not come in.”
“he will come in eventually.”
“maybe. i think you go tell him now.”
“in this rain? look at it.” the rain was, in fact, coming down harder than ever. “besides, he might not be up.”
“what do you mean, he won’t be up? he never sleeps.”
“but - do you really think it’s that important?” pete pleaded, looking down at his steaming coffee
“i tell you what,” andrea said, “i will go, you can stay here and mind the store. how is that?”
“all right, all right, i’ll go. but can i have my coffee first?”
“of course. nobody is forcing you to do anything. where are we, in argentina?”
26. joe
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