MONDAY

"Anybody meet that guy who bought the grocery store yet?" Gary Kane asked the room. Nobody answered him. Nobody, it seemed, had heard him; too many conversations were going on at once, as usual.
But then, across the massed tables, a finger went up, indicating that an answer might be forthcoming as soon as Leah Ambrose and Rex Wainwright finished their argument.
The finger stayed up for a while as Rex continued his narrative explaining why the concrete lining in the irrigation ditch that ran through town stopped at Bridge Street instead of at Main or Rochester. Rex enjoyed a good conspiracy theory as much as the next guy, but demanded that these be consistent with and inclusive of the facts – especially where family was concerned.
"I told you, Leah, my brother was the mayor then, and that's just where the town ran out of money. It's really that –"
"No, Rex, it wasn't your brother, it was Jim's uncle, whathisname, that retired pilot," Caleb Keith interrupted. "He was the mayor then. Your brother paved the alleys, remember? Downtown?"
"I know what my brother did, and you have it backwards," Rex countered. "The pilot's restaurant
rant always had trouble with delivery trucks getting stuck in the alley over there, remember? So he cut that clerk off at the knees, got rid of her town hall redecorating scheme and crap like that from the budget, ramrodded his amendment through and hired that idiot out of Colorado to come in September – September! – to pave the alleys."
"Oh yeah, I remember that guy..." Paul Black murmured into his coffee cup. "Had that Studebaker almost as old as mine..."
"Except he kept his in decent shape," Gary managed to chime in, somewhat impatiently. Leah's finger was still up in the air above her cup, but he couldn't catch her eye to get an answer to his question. Soon it would be lost altogether...
Paul laughed a little ruefully to himself, gulped a swallow of coffee, then, suddenly, slammed his palm down on the table.
"DUNCAN!" he roared.
"What the – Oh yeah, you're right." Mack Cobb agreed.
The rest of the group stared quizzically at Paul and Mack. Even Walt Gibson and his father-in-law, Tom Peters, had stopped their private chat about Walt's latest hilariously incompetent hire.
"Who in the hell is Duncan?" Gary enunciated at last, blinking emphatically.
"The pilot that was mayor then. Duncan!" Paul said triumphantly. Then he seemed to back down a bit. "Duncan... Duncan... Give me a minute, I'll think of the whole name. He wasn't mayor for that long. Got appointed at the end of old Gordie's term. I only interviewed him a few times..."
"I always called him Duncan Hines," Walt grinned.
"Yeah, we all did," Paul said, nodding vigorously.
A silent moment or two went by as the group sipped coffee, nibbled toast, and pondered the true last name of Mayor Duncan "Hines."
"Remember that one issue of the paper when Paul's wife actually called him that in her article?"
"YES!" Rex roared. "That was funnier than shit. I remember it very well. It was an article about when Duncan POTTER – that was his name! –"
"Yeah, Potter! Jim's uncle, like we said," Paul interrupted.
"Hush!" Rex demanded. "About when Mayor Duncan Potter/Hines yah yah told the clerk to go get stuffed and like it because he was paving the alleys and she could go make doilies if she thought the chairs in town hall were ugly." Rex jabbed a finger in Leah's direction as he said this, and shook it as if to say "aha!"
"You sure that wasn't your brother who said that, Rex?" a voice came from the doorway. Lee Meyer hung up his hat and sat down in his usual seat next to Caleb.
Leah's laughter nearly drowned out Rex's reply.
"No, no, no. Potter paved the alleys. My brother lined the ditch. Help me out, Paul – remember the stink that columnist of yours tried to raise because my brother's boss was a part owner of the ditch company?"
"Oh yeah," Paul said. "She high-tailed it out of town not long after that. Too bad. Good proofreader. But hey, I thought you guys were talking about the Ridgeway ditch out on the Samson place. Everybody knows Big Brother Teddy lined the ditch in town. At least until he ran out of money."
"JEE-sus, Paul, you make me wish I still smoked!" Rex said, throwing his hands up in the air.
Leah ducked, then gave him a patronizing pat on the shoulder. "Well, I always believed you, sweetie."
"Then why'd you start in with all of those leading questions about Kelley Ables and her stupid wetlands?" Rex said, agog. "YOU make me wish I still smoked, too."
"Oh really? When exactly did you quit?" Leah asked quietly.
"Hush!" he told her.
"Well, anyway, I wasn't asking any leading questions. I was simply relating a humorous anecdote about what a drunk said to me in the bar last night," Leah said in a more audible tone.
"Which bar? This one?" Paul cut in. "Was it that Buford guy your boyfriend wants everyone to write in for mayor? God, that guy is a nut."
"Which guy? Buford or Will?" Caleb chuckled.
"Leah has a boyfriend?" Rex blurted out. Then he turned to Leah beside him with a high-wattage smile. "Do tell, schnookie. Who is it? Jack Daniels? Johnnie Walker?"
The group laughed its approval of Rex's witticism; Leah had managed to drink most of them under the table at least once over the years, and had the temerity never to show up for coffee with a hangover.
"You forgot Arthur Guiness." Leah stuck her tongue out.
"Oh. My mistake, ma'am," Rex said.
"So what's this about Leah and Buford, now?" Walt asked, dropping his side conversation again, leaving Mack in mid-utterance about the state of his rain gutters.
The table erupted again in mocking laughter – whether it was directed at Walt or at Leah was anyone's guess.
"Just promise me you won't have any kids," Gary groused when his friends quieted down again. "Or is it too late?"
"Oh, it's far too late, Gary. We're naming the first one after you," Leah said, patting her belly. "I do hope you'll accept it for the honor it is!"
"What the – Leah, dammit, that is not funny. You had me believing –" the rest of Gary's outburst was drowned out in another round of boisterous laughter.
"So hey, Paul," Leah said when things quieted down again. "Who is really supposed to be my 'boyfriend' these days? I'm always the last to know."
"Yeah, you know what she always likes to say, guys," Rex said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Leah is always happy when someone's gossiping about her, because it means she's still interesting."
Leah swatted at her friend's hand. "Hey, that's my line!"
"Well you know, Leah," Paul began. "You're always spouting off about that yay-hoo who keeps putting in those ads in the paper making fun of you guys on the council and saying to vote for Buford for mayor. You know what they say about protesting too much."
"Oh, Leah, not HIM," Mack said in what appeared to be genuine shock.
"No, Mack, honey, not him," Leah reached across Rex's lap to pat Mack's hand. "I'm still your best girl. Except for all your other girls."
"Shh!" Mack said with a wink.
"So hey, did we finally figure out who that contractor was?" Paul asked after a brief lull. "I remember it being a really funny name. Leah? What company was it screwed up everything while they were paving those alleys?"
"You expect me to know?" Leah asked.
"It was right by your folks' house. They managed to cut out the power."
"That was in like the 70s or something, right?"
"Yeah. '79, I think. Or was it the sewer line they cut?"
"Not the sewer," Rex interjected. "That neighborhood was still on septic tanks then."
"Only here would I find someone who would know that," Leah said to Rex, shaking her head and taking a sip.
"Come on, Leah," Paul continued. "You've got to know this. It was your house!"
"Paul –"
"Your dad was raging about it for weeks. Almost got Bill Greenwood to help him sue them. Too bad neither of them is here to help you, Leah, you getting senile a little early or something? Or smoke too much of that wacky tabacky?"
"Paul, I was nine years old in '79."
"So?"
"NINE."
"So?"
"NINE."
"Old enough to be paying attention to that sort of –"
"NINE. I was falling off monkey bars back then. Jumping rope. Playing tag. Shooting gophers. NINE."
"You and that son of mine never played a game of tag in your lives," Gary told her.
"Details, details," Leah dismissed him, still looking across at Paul.
"Details matter, Madam Reporter. Madame Councilwoman. Details is your life now, my dear," Gary replied.
"Okay, no tag," Leah agreed, waving her hand as if to shoo him away.
"Don't recall you bookworms jumping a lot of rope, either," Gary needled further.
"Gary! I'm trying to make a point here!" she retorted.
"What point is that? Though I'll grant you the gophers. You were brought up right, after all. Can't vouch for what you've done since then, but you were brought up right."
"Ooh, good thing Kevin isn't here to hear that," Rex chortled.
Leah ignored that last remark, and addressed Gary again, slowly and carefully. "I was trying to explain to Paul, here, that when I was NINE I didn't pay much attention to things like paving contractors."
"You still don't, from the looks of things," Paul said indignantly. "What about –"
"Hush, Paul. We've been over that," Leah said. "If your nephew was dumb enough to let some gypsy freak knock on his door and charge him – how much was that again? – to pave his driveway, and dumb enough to pay this guy UP FRONT, he's got bigger problems than a muddy driveway. If he'd hired a REAL paver that was bonded and insured and, I don't know, LOCAL, he wouldn't even have THAT problem anymore, would he? Oh, and he wouldn't have spent as much money! And he'd actually have some asphalt on his driveway! My, my, my! Anyway, none of this is the Town's fault..."
"Hee hee! Some people have buttons to push – Leah's got a whole keyboard!" Rex said.
"Hush!," Leah poked her friend in the sternum, then turned back to Paul and Gary. "Gary, didn't you have a question a minute ago?"
"Huh? Did I?"
"Something about the new grocer?"
"Oh yeah. I was just wondering if anybody had met him yet."
"Way to change the subject, schnookie," Rex whispered to Leah.
"What subject was that," she inquired, innocently.
"You're learning," he whispered back with a grin.
"I hear he's from Colorado," Lee said, shaking his head sadly. "Another one."
"Does he have any kids?" Walt asked. "Didn't we start checking for kids at the border?"
"Walt, we want kids. We need kids. Our school enrollment is down," Gary began, carefully.
"I know that! That's why we're checking at the border, right? Can't move here if you don't have kids, that's the way it ought to be. Leah, you'd better pass an ordinance about that."
"Oh, I'll get right on that, Walt. I'll make it nice and constitutional," she agreed.
"Very funny," Gary said.
"More likely he has grandkids," Lee continued as if he hadn't heard them. "If he's moving here. Grandkids still in Colorado, but they're going to want to come up here for the summer and he's going to start crying for a soccer field or a field hockey program or some godawful expensive thing to keep 'em busy. We've seen it all before."
"So he won't have to deal with them himself," Gary agreed, grouchily. "'Cause you know that's what the city government is for. Oh well," he continued, fixing Leah with a look, "At least Woodstock will finally have a way to earn his keep."
"Hey, Woodstock has plenty to do keeping that swimming pool open and installing all that playground equipment Lee's wife and her buddies screamed about for so long. He's totally earning his keep," Leah said.
"Keyboard!" Rex piped up again.
"Shaddap!" Leah whacked his shoulder.
"You two are better than TV," Walt observed.
"Thank you," Rex and Leah said, then broke into giggles.
"Well, you know this new guy's going to be all over Woodstock's ass anyway," Lee continued, warming further to his theme. "He'll want doggie parks and indoor swimming pools and a leash law and –"
"We already have a leash law," three or four of Lee's companions reminded him.
"I know, but you know what I mean. And he'll start wanting fancy beer in the bars –"
"He can't be pickier than Leah and Rex," Gary interrupted. "What's that shit you're always asking for, Leah?"
"Xingu!" she said.
"Brazilian Black Beer!" Rex chimed in.
"Makes Guiness look like bathwater!" Leah said.
"And bathwater look like Coors!" Rex finished.
"Yeah, that shit," Gary said. "The liquor commission doesn't have it. Nobody has it. I think you have been smoking that wacky tabacky, Leah. As for Rex, well, there never was much hope for Rex..."
Leah took a deep breath to respond, but Rex stopped her, grinning and murmuring "Keyboard." Leah fell silent and tuned back in to Lee's evangelical diatribe.
"And he'll want lattes at coffee, and he'll want his steak cooked with herbs and..."
"You know, before we start greasing the rail to ride him out of town on, does anyone care to hear from someone who has actually met him?" Leah asked.
"No," Lee said.
"You have?!?" Gary said.
"Hell yeah!" Rex and Paul said.
"Who?" Tom said.
"I'm with Lee," Caleb said.
Walt and Mack were deep in a discussion of Mack's gutters and ignored the outbursts. Were they about to come to blows? Nobody else cared.
"Of course I have," Leah answered Gary. "I interviewed him yesterday for the newspaper."
"Well, what's his deal? Is he as bad as Lee says?" Gary asked, eagerly.
"I don't think Lee has met him yet," Leah began, but then Rex interrupted her.
"Wait and read the paper," he said. "It's no fun if you already know what's in it. You have to read the paper."
Leah looked bemusedly at her friend, then said, "Well, yeah. Read the paper Wednesday, Gary."
"I only read the paper to see Will Garrett's ads," Gary said. "He got you pretty good last week, Leah."
"Oh, you mean the thing about the 'dogs of Bridge Street'? Um, you know, Gary, all those dogs are still in the businesses, just like I wrote about last year. None of them have been removed. So isn't that maybe a little disingenuous? Maybe even an obvious lie that shows what a loon Garrett really is? I know," Leah said, swatting at Rex, "Keyboard."
"Well, anyway, what's the point of having you at coffee if we don't get the inside scoop," Gary said to her, leaning back and folding his hands over his belly in satisfaction.
"Her sparkling wit and scintillating conversation," Rex said, putting his hand back on her shoulder.
"Feh!" Leah said, then "It's not about what benefits you, it's all about me. Gotta get my story tips somewhere."
"She's got a point," Walt piped up.
"Dammit, Walt, what are you going to do about my gutters," Mack said querulously.
"You haven't told me what's wrong with them yet," Walt said.
"I been telling you this whole time!" Mack yelled.
"Oh, well, I've been listening to Gary and Leah. You've got to admit they're more fun. Anyway, sorry. I'll come take a look at them after coffee."
"You should see them," Mack told the room. "They're so full of leaves they're pretty much useless."
"Mack, you silly bastard, I told you to get some of that gutter shielding when I had it on sale at the store this summer," Rex said, shaking his head and staring down into his cup. "But I've still got some if you want to come take a look. Friend price, of course."
"You really should get some," Caleb added. "I put some on at my house this summer, this wire mesh stuff..." Caleb held up his hands and began to fold his fingers into a complex pattern.
Leah watched him and laughed quietly, murmuring "This is the church, this is the steeple..." until Rex grabbed her leg and hissed at her to stop through his own giggles.
"Huh?" Caleb asked. "Anyway, it keeps the leaves and stuff out just fine. Just knock the leaves off the wire with a garden hose. It's great stuff."
"So anyway, Leah, what's this new guy like?"
"And does he have kids?" Walt asked.
"She told you, read the paper tomorrow," Rex grinned.
"The paper never tells the whole story. Just a bunch of bullshit," Gary said.
"I beg your pardon!" Leah said, pretending to get up.
"Except for your stuff, of course, Leah," Gary amended. "But you know that idiot editor of yours always cuts off the bottom."
"Whether the sentence is finished or not," Walt agreed.
"True, true," Leah agreed. "But I'm still not going to tell you!"
"That's my girl!" Rex said.
"No, didn't you hear? I'm Buford's girl," Leah teased.
"I thought you were Mack's girl," Tom said.
"One of the dozens," Mack grinned.
Gary grunted and dug a pad of note paper from Paul's shirt pocket, brandishing a pen as he did.
"All right, people, listen up! One to one thousand!"
The group sat at attention as the morning ritual began.
"511" Tom said.
"One to 511," Gary intoned.
"Oh, how about 411," Walt, seated at Tom's right, said.
"One to 411," Gary intoned.
"Hmmm... 611," Caleb, seated at Walt's right, said.
"I said one to 411," Gary warned.
"Oh," Caleb laughed. "Um..."
"Oh, you know what he's going to say. Just say it," Paul teased.
"How about 311," Caleb finally guessed.
"One of these days it's going to be an 11 and you clowns are going to be sorry," Leah said.
"Hush!" Gary said. "One to 311 to you, Rex."
Ever theatrical, Rex looked over at Leah as he guessed.
"Hmph. Too much wiggle room today to 'git' you," he said.
"Oh, go ahead and try," she retorted.
"309" Rex said.
"One to 309, Leah," Gary intoned.
"Damn!" Rex said.
"Nice try, schnookie," Leah smirked. Then she turned her attention back to the rest of the group. "Um... 200."
"One to 200," Gary intoned.
"111" Lee, seated at Leah's right, said, stifling a giggle.
"One to 111," Gary intoned.
"109," Paul, seated at Lee's right, guessed.
"That's a – Oh shit," Gary said, looking down at the paper where he'd secretly written the magic number. "That's not a winner. I'll buy. Dammit, Paul, you're not allowed to sit there anymore. Pick a letter."
"Oh, how about 'G' for 'Gary'," Paul said, rubbing it in.
Gary counted off the letters for each player in turn. "H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q" he said at last, landing on Tom.
"Aw, poor Tom, how many times have you gotten stuck this month," Lee asked.
"Oh, it's no big deal, it's Uncle Sam's money anyway," Tom said cheerfully, digging for his wallet.
"So wait," Leah said, pulling out her Palm Pilot, "The number today was 110? And the letter was –?"
"Q," Gary said, showing her the notepad.
"Thank you," Leah said, entering the numbers.
"What ARE you doing, writing down what won?" Gary asked.
"Our Leah is running a sophisticated statistical analysis of the winning numbers and letters at this coffee group and the 6 a.m. group over at the gas station," Rex said. "She doesn't think the selection process is random."
"Well of course they're not random," Gary said. "I make them up. Or you do, if I'm not here."
"Yes, but she's interested in just how not random they are," Rex explained in a mock-scholarly tone. "We will all know much more about how our own rituals and habits work when she's done. She may publish in an important journal someday, and we'll be famous. We'll go down in history as –"
"Leah's monkeys," Leah cut in.
"Leah's monkeys. It will be a signal honor." Rex agreed.
"Say, how come you're always answering for Leah?" Caleb asked. "How do you know so much about what she's up to?"
"Because I read her weblog," Rex declared. "I read it every day. She has no secrets. But only if you read it every day."
"Phooey," Gary said, returning the notepad to Paul.
Amidst a muddle of hats and coats, the group began to disperse for the morning.