And then Gwen appeared in the doorway, a sour look on her face, pulling her sweater tighter around her.

“Oh, good, you and Iris can talk about the cruise,” Norm said. “I want to run over to the station and make sure they’re getting by all right. I’ll, um, need to take that phone, Iris. But I’ll give it back to you next time I see you and you can look at the rest of the pictures. I have to get us a decent camera, a real camera.” He pocketed the phone. “You probably don’t want to cook after all we ate,” he said to Gwen. “Want me to pick up something from the diner? A couple of good old-fashioned hamburgers?”

“I’ll cook,” she said evenly, arms crossed over her ample chest.

“I’ll be back then,” he said. “You just about over that little seasickness?”

“I’m over it.”

Norm was out the door and Iris sank onto the couch, bewildered.

“You’re upset about something,” she said. “Wasn’t it a nice cruise?”

Gwen went to the chair, Norm’s favorite chair. She took a deep breath. “The scenery was very nice. Colder than you think.”

“Gwen, what’s wrong? You’re angry.”

“Did you see the pictures?” she asked.

“I saw a lot of his pictures. He was pretty taken with the food.”

“The food? He was taken with the widows!”

“The widows?”

“That boat was full of widows! They loved Norm! They couldn’t shut up, comparing him to their dead husbands, asking him questions about his company. It wasn’t a company—it was a gas station! Helping him fill his plate. I thought one of ’em was going to cut his meat! It was disgusting!”

“Those women?” Iris asked.

“Widows,” she said.

“You didn’t like them?”

“What’s to like? They hardly gave me any notice. It was like he was in a damn kissing booth!”

“He kissed them?” Iris asked, aghast.

“Of course he didn’t kiss them, but he sure didn’t mind all the attention. I’d’ve been better off if he’d worn his gas station shirt and stood at the rail, pouting. Maybe he coulda slipped and gone...”

“Gwen!”

“It was supposed to be a trip for us, not a trip for Norm to play escort to a wife and eight widows. Who never shut up. And thought he was the sweetest man they ever knew.”

“Norm? Sweet?”

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Gwen said. “I never saw him so sweet before. He’s been a grumpy pain in my ass for almost fifty years, and all of a sudden with eight widows he’s sweet.” She grunted. “I never.”

Fourteen

When Lin Su was a senior in high school, a very upscale and expensive Catholic girl’s academy, she met Jake at a dance. A mixer. Once every couple of months the boys from Camphill Hall, a prestigious boy’s academy, got together with the girls from Sisters of Mercy. Jacob Westermann was a rugby player, handsome and smart. They danced every dance. He called her and said, “We need to get together for a real date. Tell your parents we’re going to double, but it’ll be just you and me. We need time together to talk. You know?”

She knew what she might be getting herself into. But that was fine with her. She’d only had a couple of brief, boring boyfriends so far and she was ready for a little excitement and romance.

It wasn’t yet Christmas when Jake said, “We’re going to a party at Todd’s and his parents are out of town. Small party. Private party. Wear a skirt.” And she had. She went home without her virginity and her panties in her purse.

When she was around Blake, all the lust and irresistible passion of her first, her only, love affair came back to her. All those feelings at least. Given her experience, she had decided that if there was any getting to know each other better with Blake, it would happen in the cool light of day in a place where they weren’t too alone. She learned from her mistakes, after all.

But Charlie was fourteen and aching for independence; he had wearied of being her constant companion. She had not had a man in her life since high school. She couldn’t deny a certain hunger. This time, however, she wasn’t as daring because she was more familiar with the possible consequences.

When Blake got back from Hawaii there was a lot of activity around Winnie’s, Cooper’s, even Blake’s. Everyone wanted to know about the race, about what was next for Blake, how he felt about his win. Their neighbors had learned a lot about triathlons in the past few weeks because of Blake and Charlie; they knew Kona was the big one, the legendary Ironman contest. Just because of circumstances, she saw him often and learned quite a bit, though they weren’t alone.

“I can see by the way he looks at you, there’s serious interest there,” Grace whispered to Lin Su.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken about that. He has a vested interest in helping Charlie, that’s all. He seems to be a good man.”

“Yes to the good man helping Charlie with a training program, but that’s not what I see in his eyes when he looks at you. Take a chance, Lin Su. I bet you haven’t dated in a while.”

Hah! A while?

Just by keeping her ears sharp, she began to learn things about Blake. He apparently had a poor childhood, raised by a single mother, and even signing up for school-or park-sponsored sports like Little League or soccer were out of the question. “We couldn’t have afforded uniforms, much less registration fees. I played a little sandlot soccer and there was a basketball hoop, if we could catch it when the big guys weren’t on the court. It was old—a hoop, no net, late at night, outside, only in summer, of course. So a friend of mine, a lawyer who had a similar childhood, and I have been working on a foundation to sponsor underprivileged kids in athletic programs. We have our own corporate sponsors lined up, donors, other foundations and a board of directors setting up the mission statement and governing body. It takes time and will start small. In another five years it will probably be my primary job.”

“Because you will have made enough money racing?” Charlie asked.

Blake laughed. “Charlie, I don’t make much money racing. Just about enough to pay the expenses. But now that I’ve won some big ones, I have sponsors and I’m asked to speak. Motivational speaking. It pays the bills and, I admit, it really gets my motor running.”

“Speeches encouraging other athletes?” Troy asked.

Blake shook his head. “More generic than that. It’s more about being human and survival.”

“Of the fittest!” Charlie said.

Again he shook his head. “Survival of the weakest,” he said. “It’s complicated—but something I’m very familiar with is what it feels like to think you don’t stand a chance. It could be poverty, emotional problems, family dysfunction, illness, you name it. It could be asthma,” he said, winking at Charlie. “Turning that around isn’t easy, but it’s possible. You don’t have to be in first place to feel like a winner, you just have to beat the thing, whatever it is, that makes you feel failure is inevitable.”

“So what kinds of audiences do you have?” Winnie asked.

“All kinds. Schoolkids to executives. Corporate leadership, a group I don’t really understand except to know they’re competitive in a way only they get. I spoke to a writers’ group, a police department, a library district.” He looked pointedly at Lin Su. “I did a TED Talk. It hasn’t been released yet.”