Thursday

Mandy Heinemann, no, Mandy Masamoli, she had to remind herself, had less than three hours as a married woman under her garter belt when she and her husband committed their first robbery. It, the robbery, was Stuart’s idea—everything was always Stuart’s idea—to pay for their honeymoon and a start to their new life together better than he could realistically provide. She tried one last time, for almost three minutes, to talk him out of it, to convince him all she cared about was spending some legitimate quiet time with him rather than doing it in the back of his dad’s half-rusted out Chevy pickup or behind the loading dock of Bortmann Produce. But then she saw how eager he was, how much like the little boy she met in Sister Mary Dymphna’s first grade room, the boy who chucked an eraser at the nun and lived to tell about it, and Mandy gave in. He had to know she would. She always did, from the first game of I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours that same first grade afternoon fourteen years earlier to a little while ago, when he put the pistol in her hand and any chance at backing out was gone.

Now here she was, pistol pointed up at the quivering bank guard’s neck. Her right hand held the gun surprisingly steady. Her left she held out in front of her, admiring the small, shiny near-gold band on her third finger. She barely paid attention to what Stuart was doing. It looked like the teller was handing over the cash, so he had things under control. Mandy just wanted to look at her ring. It showed he loved her. Stuart Masamoli loved her. No one else did.

She was too short, too chunky, and way too pale, and that’s why her sister, Linda, was Daddy’s girl and Mandy got nothing from him. She was too stupid, too awkward, and way too sassy, and that’s why her brother, Craig, was Mama’s boy and Mandy got nothing from her. But Stuart called her his angel and treated her that way and that’s all that mattered. Mandy had Stuart and Stuart wanted Mandy and she’d do anything for his love, even hold a gun to an old bank guard’s head.

The guard started crying, drawing attention away from Mandy’s admiration of her ring. The words, “Shut up, old fartface,” were out of her mouth before she realized she said them, and his sobs abruptly stopped in a snot-clogged snort. Disgusting, but it made her giggle a little. It reminded her of the time Stuart kept making farting noises in Mr. Boscolovski’s English 10 class and got sent down to Old Man Penobscot’s office. Stuart always called him Old Poppin’-Snot, the bastard who pushed them out of the class of ‘52 a couple of years early and for no good reason. They weren’t the first couple to fake being sick so they could do it in the health room while the elderly school nurse was snoozing and they wouldn’t be the last. As always, Poppin’ Snot overreacted and their school days were over two weeks into their junior year.

Still, she almost said sorry to the guard, but she stopped herself just in time. Stuart would be so proud of her for putting an Old Poppin’-Snot kind of guy in his place. She pushed the barrel of the gun further into the guard’s gray bristles and turned her attention back to the ring.

She was so focused on it that she missed seeing Stuart until he was right in front of her. He grabbed her left hand, blocking her view of the ring, and yanked her toward the door.

“We got to skedaddle, Angel,” he said when he pulled her off-balance, making her start her run in a stumble. “Just run,” he commanded. “Don’t look back.”

She didn’t. Stuart knew best. Mandy hopped in the passenger side of the Chevy while Stuart hotfooted around to his side. He took off so fast the tires squealed, laying a great patch of burnt rubber, she was sure, and startled a couple of elderly woman looking in a shop window.

“We did it, Angel,” Stuart said. “There’s got to be four thousand smackers here at least. We’re gonna have one hell of a honeymoon. Treat you with style.”

Two minutes later, they were outside of the small town of Cloverdale. Stuart slowed at a fork in the road just beyond the last houses. “Which way, Angel? Left or right?”

Mandy saw a squirrel crossing the road on her side of the truck and pointed away from the little creature. It seemed the right thing to do, saving a life after robbing a bank. Keep things even with God.

Stuart veered left and put his hand on Mandy’s knee. “We’ll stop at the first restaurant—” He glanced at the money bag at Mandy’s feet. “The first decent restaurant we come across once we’re far enough away from that last town, and get some food. Our first meal as Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Masamoli.” He grinned the same grin he did on that private show-and-tell day fourteen years earlier.

“You sure nobody’s gonna know what we did?”

“Not a chance, Angel. Not a chance. We’re just a couple in love. People will think we’re adorable. And we are. Now, keep an eye on your side for an isolated house.”

“An isolated house?”

“What I said.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Stuart’s tone indicated the topic was closed, so Mandy turned her attention to the window. Her husband wanted to find an isolated house, so she’d find one for him. Maybe he planned to find a place for them to start their married life. No, that didn’t make sense this close to home. They were only fifty or sixty miles outside of Bascombe at the most. She wanted to press him for details, but after fourteen years growing up with Stuart, Mandy knew when, to use his words, to shut her yap.

As the scenery flew by, Mandy marveled at the way their week was turning out. A week ago, Stuart was as low as she ever saw him. He arrived at her house in a very quiet mood, which was unusual for him, and said he needed to talk to her and he didn’t want to do it at the Heinemanns’, even though no one was home but her. She didn’t question. She never wanted to be at her family’s house either. Instead, she did as he wanted, climbed in his boss’ truck, and waited for him to tell her where they were going.

Only he didn’t. They just drove, straight out of Bascombe to Hanover City, the next town over. Stuart was silent the entire time, and it scared Mandy just a little bit. Stuart was never quiet. He said quiet was overrated and words needed to fill the air since he went through the trouble to learn them. But on this day, there was nothing. Mandy studied him as they drove along. His expression was somewhere between extreme anger and extreme sadness, with some hatred thrown in. Though she’d never seen him like this before, she knew the best action to take was to go with his flow. He’d spill in time.

Hanover City was fairly quiet when they arrived. Stuart parked at the edge of the town square, but made no move to get out of the truck. “Stuey?” she said softly.

“Sorry, Angel,” he said. “Just thinking for a sec. Hop on out.”

He got out and she followed suit. When he reached her side, Stuart took her hand in his and led her to a bench in the middle of the square. “Angel, we really got to talk.”

Mandy never had a boyfriend other that Stuart, but she knew from other girls when a guy said that, it wasn’t a good thing. Her insides churned as she asked, “What about, Stuey?”

“Me and you.”

Damn. What had she done? “What about us?”

Stuart took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said nothing. He took a second breath before speaking. “Angel, I got to get away from Bascombe. I can’t take it there no more.”

This was a little better, maybe. Maybe it wasn’t her, wasn’t them. “Stuey, what’s wrong?”

“My father.” Stuart’s voice was flat when he answered. “My goddamn father.”

This was a too-familiar story. Stuart’s dad was horrible and Stuart and his brother Ralph had the scars to prove it. But Stuart never reacted like this. He got angry or he acted like nothing was wrong. He never went to this too-quiet mood.

“What did he do?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

Stuart stood up and moved a few paces away.

Mandy thought about going after him, but decided better of it. He needed to say whatever he was going to say his way and in his time. She watched him pace for a moment. The silence was overwhelming and Mandy desperately wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what to say.

Eventually, Stuart sat beside her. “He shot at me,” he said simply, no emotion, as if he was talking about something that didn’t matter.

It was Mandy’s turn for quiet. She knew Mr. Masamoli was a worthless drunk who beat the crap out of his sons, but she didn’t realize he was bat shit crazier than Stuart ever let on. When she could finally form words, she asked, “What happened? Tell me everything, Stuey.”

Stuart addressed the ground rather than look at her. “Real quick, then we never talk about him again. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Stuart breathed in deeply before starting. “I come home from work that day and he’s sitting in the backyard, drunk off his ass. I know he’s supposed to be at the factory so I asked him if they let out early. He says no, that his foreman fired him because he was better than the foreman. That’s when I see his gun by his side and think, oh shit, what’s he doing? He starts rambling about how if a guy’s a good worker, and he’s a damn good worker, he says, there’s nothing wrong with having a bottle in his locker.”

Stuart paused and Mandy noticed a hitch in his breath. She didn’t look at him in case he looked up at her. If he had tears, he wouldn’t want Mandy to see them.

“He had a bottle in his locker?”

“Stupid ass always has a bottle everywhere,” Stuart said. “Anyways, he keeps on rambling about bosses and that switches over to bitches who leave a perfect good man to go off with other guys and leave the good ones with kids they didn’t want and have to take care of. Then he lifts the gun and takes a potshot at me. Doesn’t come close, but I don’t stick around to give him another chance.”

This time, Mandy did turn to Stuart, taking her hands in his. “You can’t go back there, Stuey. He’s snapped. It ain’t safe.”

Stuart shook his head. “I’m going back one time to get my shit. I’ll do it when he’s at Newberry’s. He closes the place pretty much every night.”

“Where you gonna go? With Ralph?”

“With my brother and his wife and brat? No thanks. I’m gonna hide out at work. Old Man Bortmann will let me for a few days. Long enough for you and me to get blood tests and a license. Then we get hitched and get the hell out of here.”

Hitched? Was this a proposal? Out of Bascombe? With Stuey? Her, Mrs. Masamoli? She didn’t know what to say.

“Angel, are you with me, or am I going alone?”

Mandy had a ton of questions, but she said, “I’m with you, Stuey. I’m always with you.”

And she was. Just a few hours earlier, Mandy Heinemann was sitting on her front step, waiting for her boyfriend, her fiancé, to pick her up so they could start their new life. She put two sets of everything; blouse, bra, dungarees, panties, socks, in a paper sack and started to roll it up. On a whim, she added a nightgown and her small makeup kit. They had the blood tests, they had the license, but there was no way they could afford a honeymoon. They hadn’t even discussed what they would do after they were married.

As promised, Stuart was at her door at eight sharp. “Man of my word, Angel,” he said. “I said eight o’clock and eight o’clock it is. Right on the button.”

Stuart took her clothing bag and put it in a suitcase in the truck bed. She looked at him for an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, he told her to climb in the passenger seat, even opening the door for her. After she was settled, he said, “Just be ready for anything, and for the best day ever.”

Mandy scooted to his side and didn’t object when his hand fell high on her thigh. “So, what do you have planned today?” she asked.

His hand crept a little further up, his pinky making contact with the top of her inseam. “You know what I always wanna do, Angel.” Stuart waggled his finger. “Always.”

She didn’t push his hand away. “Where can we go? It’s broad daylight.”

“Oh, I got a plan in mind. Don’t you worry about that.”

Stuart shifted the truck and peeled rubber, letting out a loud whoop that echoed in the cab of the ancient Bortmann Produce Chevy. Mandy loved when Stuart was excited and loved it even more when he had a surprise in mind for her. Last time he planned for them to be together, they ended up on the bank of Kellnor Creek. That one didn’t work out so good between the mosquitoes and the ants and the unexpected appearance of the Boy Scouts Summer Explorers literally at their feet. Those little monsters had quite the visual exploration that afternoon, that was for sure. Stuart’s heart was in the right place and the view, other than the Scouts, was very pretty.

When Stuart pulled up at a mostly tumbled down barn just beyond the city limits, Mandy started to protest, but Stuart shushed her. “We ain’t staying here, Angel. There’s just something I left out here the other day and I need to get it. Stay here and I’ll be right back.” He kissed her and hopped out of the truck.

She watched him bound into the barn, clearly pleased with whatever he had up his sleeve. When he came out a minute later, he carried a small box. His grin was infectious.

Stuart opened the door, placed the box under the driver’s side of the bench seat, and resumed his place behind the wheel. “This,” he announced, “was step one.”

“Step one of what?” Mandy’s curiosity was bursting.

“Our day. And our future.”

“Our future? What are you jawing about, Stuey?”

His lopsided grin kicked up a notch and Mandy knew she’d get nothing out of him. “Patience, Angel, patience, and trust your Stuey to look out for you.” He turned on the radio before she could answer, filling the cab with Joan Weber singing “Let Me Go, Lover.”

Stuart listened to music constantly to, as he said, drown out his boredom at work and to drown out his father at home, and he sang along to pretty much every song. When Weber was done pleading, he said, “Just a song, Angel. No way I want my lover to let me go.” His hand went from the gearshift to her thigh.

The DJ played a couple more songs before Stuart said, “Step two, coming up.”

Mandy looked around and saw nothing but trees. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Stuart shut off the radio and turned down a path Mandy barely saw. The produce truck wasn’t the smoothest ride on the best of roads and this weed-choked forest path hardly qualified as a road at all. By the time they pulled to a stop, Mandy’s head was swimming. Still, she was eager to see what Stuart had planned, so she shoved her discomfort aside and followed his instruction to hop out.

“Where are we?” Mandy asked.

“Middle of nowhere,” Stuart answered, grabbing the box from beneath the seat and slamming his door.

He took her hand and led her down a much narrower overgrown path that, in places, they had to traverse single file. It wasn’t long, though, before they came upon a clearing, and the unmistakable sounds of rushing water—and insects. “Stuey…”

“No, no, Angel. Not that, much as I want to. Not yet. Look,” He pointed to a place behind Mandy. “There’s a bench over there. Great view of the water. No creek this time. That’s the Wolf River right there. Let’s go sit.” Again, Stuart took her hand and led her the few steps to the stone bench.

“Why would there be a bench here?” Mandy asked.

Stuart shrugged. “Way I understand it, all this used to be somebody or other’s land and this is where Mrs. Somebody or Other used to sit while Mr. Somebody or Other did whatever he did to be able to afford it all. When the Somebody or Others died, nobody gave a shit and everything they had disappeared, but the bench is still here and the flowers are growing wild and pretty, just like you.”

Mandy felt herself blush. Stuart was full of compliments today and she knew he was leading up to something big. He directed her to sit on the bench. He then put the box underneath it and fished in his pants pocket.

“Keep playing pocket pool and you ain’t gonna need me,” Mandy said, regretting it instantly when she realized he was trying so hard to be serious and romantic.

“Always gonna need you, Angel, and I ain’t playing anything.” Stuart pulled whatever he was after from his pocket and sank to one knee in front of her. “Amanda Heinemann, will you marry me?” Stuart opened a little box and showed her a matching set of gold bands. “I couldn’t afford an engagement ring too, but I’ll get you one someday soon, I promise. I know we already got the tests and license, but a girl deserves a proposal. Amanda Joan Heinemann, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she said with a squeal. “Of course.” A dark cloud crossed her happiest of thoughts. “But we can’t till we can afford to. Our parents’ll kick us out for sure.”

Stuart picked up the bigger box and sat beside her. “We can afford to. Today.”

“How?”

He held up the box. “The answer’s right here, Angel.” He stood. “Let’s go back to the truck and I’ll show you.”

As they walked back along the path, Mandy said, “So what do you have in there? A cash making machine?”

“In a way, yep. You’ll see, Angel. Don’t worry. You’ll see real soon.”

A sudden jolt and Mandy’s attention was back to the road, the proposal by the river several hours in the past. She realized Stuart had slammed the truck’s brakes, causing the jarring that nearly threw her on the floor. “Did you find the house you were looking for?” she asked.

Stuart guided the truck to the side of the road. “Might be the perfect one. You just wait right here, Angel. I’ll be right back. Don’t you worry none. I’ll only be a minute.”

Mandy watched Stuart go around to the rear of the house, a small place with just a gravel driveway leading to the back. There didn’t look to be any movement inside, thank God. She didn’t want Stuart to get caught and get in trouble. She couldn’t drive the truck home herself. She didn’t even know where the heck they were. She smiled when Stuart emerged from behind the house, gave her an okay sign with his thumb and forefinger and went back to whatever he was doing. Since Stuart said he’d only be a minute, Mandy decided to close her eyes and just relax until he came back. Getting married at the Bascombe County Courthouse just after breakfast, robbing the bank and anticipating the night to come had taken a lot out of Mandy. A few seconds of unmoving calm wouldn’t hurt.

She barely started to relax when Stuart was back. He shoved something in the space behind the seat and jumped in, starting up the Chevy with a roar. “Success, Angel,” he said. “We’re one step closer to our honeymoon.” He laughed and peeled out. “Our honeymoon in the nicest hotel we can find.”

Stuart had that eager little boy face, and this time, Mandy immediately knew why. He was ready to have their first married game of I’ll-Show-You-Mine-if-You-Show-Me-Yours, and it was going to happen in a nice hotel room instead of the truck or an alley or in her bedroom on a grounded Saturday night. She dreamed of this day for so long and now it was going to happen, after a good meal and finding the right hotel. And they had money to do it right. Stuart was so smart.

“Angel, we’re going to have to make one more stop before we hit another town.”

“How come?”

He hooked a thumb toward the back. “New license plates for the truck. Boosted them off a Pontiac at that house. Got to change ours for those. Cops will be looking for ours if anyone caught sight of the number when we pulled outta that bank. Only way they’re ever gonna find out who we are is tracing the truck.”

Cops. What her and Stuart did. Mandy really hadn’t thought about the fact they committed a real crime. A Federal crime. Like in a Bogart movie. Holy crud. They were outlaws, like Al Capone or Adolph Hitler. They robbed a bank and, so far, got away with it. Holy moly.

“Stuart, we’re going to be okay, right?”

“Of course, we are.” He patted the seat next to him. “Scoot over here, Angel. You’ll feel safer with my arm around you.”

So, she did. And she did. Stuart always knew what was best for her. He had the radio on and was happily singing as the never changing scenery; trees, farm, barn, cows, fields, trees, repeated itself over and over, broken occasionally by a small town or a gas station. Beneath her seat, the cardboard box bounced, its purpose served.

She was sitting in this same place a few hours earlier when Stuart showed her what was inside. Guns. Two of them. One large and ugly and the other small, shiny, and kind of cute. “What are these for?” she’d asked him.

“Money,” her new fiancée answered.

“We gonna sell them?”

“Nope. We’re gonna use them.”

Stuart explained how, a few weeks earlier, he made a delivery to a new customer in Cloverdale. The market was next door to a bank, so he stopped in to see if he could use their bathroom to take a quick whizz. “Stupid Jasper at the store told me their toilet was for employees only,” he told her. “Never mind that I’d been driving for two hours and had a couple Cokes in me and had to take a leak so bad the snake was spitting. So I tried the bank. Guy there looked at me like I wasn’t good enough to piss in his pot and said no. So I said screw you and went around back and pissed on the bank’s back door.”

Mandy laughed at that. People were always treating her and Stuart like crap, so any chance for revenge was a good thing.

“Anyways, I just put it away and zipped when this woman comes out for a smoke. I bummed one from her so it looked like I had reason to be there and talked to her.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Angel, she was about eight hundred years old and looked like a tomato that sat rotting in the sun for a week. Anyways, like I was saying, we got to talking and I asked her if she was having a busy day like I was. She said yeah, cause Thursday afternoons was the day companies always come for their payroll money. That got me thinking. If they come on Thursday afternoons for their dough to give out on Friday morning, then the bank’s got to have lots of moola on hand Thursday morning to be ready for them.”

“Makes sense.”

“That’s when I got the idea,” Stuart said.

Mandy wasn’t so sure she wanted to ask the obvious question. She looked at the guns in her lap. “What idea?”

“To make what’s theirs ours. Angel, think about it. A nice honeymoon and money to live on after.”

She shook her head. “Stuey, people would ask questions. A produce guy and a grocery checker don’t pull down big bucks.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “And that’s the clincher for you to say yes. We do this, we don’t go back to Bascombe. Ever.” His smile faded for a moment “No more family for neither of us. Never again. We’ll be our own family.”

“What about the woman you talked to? Won’t she recognize you?”

“That’s the best part. Like I told you, this broad was ancient. She told me she was counting down the weeks. She retired two weeks ago, so she won’t be there. Nobody else saw me.”

“What about the guy who said you couldn’t use the bathroom?”

Stuart thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, okay, he saw me, but he don’t know who I am. All he’d know is a guy in a blue work shirt and pants asked to use the toilet once, a month or so ago. Old man Bortmann’s too cheap to have names put on our shirts. Even the truck don’t have his name on it.”

The silence in the truck cab was deafening. Stuart had clearly thought all of this through. No more Bascombe. No more family. Money and a new life with Stuart. Maybe it was a long shot, but what else did they have? Bascombe was never going to be any better for them. “How will we do it?”

Those five words set everything in motion. Stuart started the truck and they headed back toward Bascombe. The plan was to drive back to Bascombe and get married at the county courthouse, then off to Cloverdale and the bank. The way Stuart had it figured; they would be at the courthouse by nine-thirty, back on the road by ten, and in Cloverdale by noon. “Dinosaur woman said the factory people started coming for money around two, so there’s plenty of cushion.”

As it turned out, they didn’t need it. The clerk and the judge were very efficient and within twenty minutes of arriving, Mandy and Stuart sported their matching gold-colored bands and were back in the truck. As they drove, he told Mandy all about the inside of the bank and what her role would be in his plan. As he talked, his enthusiasm and her fear were on a collision course and only one could win out in the end. She was sure, at first, he wasn’t serious and that if he was, she wouldn’t go through with it. But when they pulled up right in front of the bank and Stuart pressed the gun into her hand, she knew she wasn’t backing out. She tried to talk him out of it one last time because she figured she should, but she was all in. She and Stuart were in it together, no matter what.

Thinking back now, she was still amazed they actually did it. Now here they were, two hours out of Cloverdale and about four from Bascombe. Stuart pulled into a Standard station for gas and told Mandy to hit the vending machines outside the garage. They needed a snack and some soda, he told her, in case they didn’t find a place to eat soon. He headed off to the men’s room while the attendant filled the tank.

Mandy locked the truck doors when she got out, drawing a puzzled look from the skinny string bean working the pump, but with guns and cash stashed on the floor, Mandy wasn’t taking any chances. She’d wait for Stuart to return before taking her turn in the ladies’ room. Her husband wasn’t the only one on this trip who could make logical plans.

A few minutes later, the tank was filled, their bladders were empty, soda bottles and Hershey bars were on the seat between them, and the Masamolis took off again. Except for the courthouse wedding and the bank robbery, this felt just like an ordinary ride in the country. Mandy relished it, especially the wedding.

Another few hours of driving brought them to a town deemed suitable by Stuart for stopping for the night. Mandy didn’t see it as any different than the other towns they passed through, but Stuart was the planner and he knew what he was doing. After all, he picked the bank, he picked the house for the license plates and the place to switch them, and he picked her when he could have had Dottie Anne Bortmann and been in good with his boss at the produce company. Instead, he chose to marry Mandy, daughter of a line worker at Mother Meatworthy’s Canned Sausages. So Mandy knew when Stuart made a decision, it was the right one.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Sign outside of town said Mishawaskum.”

“Mishawhoskum?”

Stuart laughed. “Don’t be an idiot. Mishawaskum; named after Chief Mishawaskum, who won the Battle of Lickmelightly for his people and took over all of the land in the Belchinbelly Valley. Don’t you remember from Mrs. Fulbright’s history class?”

“When did we go over tha—you’re making it up. Belchinbelly Valley! Stuey, you’re a hoot! You really are.”

Stuart was always so funny that way. He could get her every time with his puns.

“Yep. Mr. Humor, that’s me.” He squeaked the truck to a halt at a stop-and-go light. “Angel, it’s your wedding day, so you’re the boss. What’s it going to be first? Food or hotel?”

Mandy thought about the question. She really wanted to get to a hotel. She was tired and a nap sounded so good. So did time to enjoy fully becoming husband and wife with Stuart, but she knew if she chose that, they wouldn’t get food anytime soon and a nap was an unrealistic pipedream. Stuart’s manly appetites could be tremendous at times, after all. And she was hungry. They didn’t take time out for lunch; the Hershey bars their only food all day. And really good meals didn’t happen often in her life and now they had the money for something really good at a fancier restaurant, one with tablecloths and waiters and everything. Private time with Stuart could wait another hour or so. “Restaurant,” she said.

Stuart hit the gas right as the light turned green. “Let me know when you see one you like.”

About two blocks into town, Mandy spotted a restaurant with a neon sign advertising steaks, chops, and seafood. “There,” she said. “That one looks great.”

Stuart obediently pulled into the lot and parked right outside the door. “You got fancy tastes, Angel. I like it. I bet we can get a three-course meal in here. Grab some money out of the bag.” He jumped out of the truck and headed for the door.

Mandy opened the money bag. How much should she take? A good meal at Grossinger’s Drive-Inn back home was around a dollar and a half, so if she brought a twenty, that should be plenty, she figured. She grabbed one, looked at the portrait of Andrew Jackson for a moment because she hadn’t seen it too often in her twenty years, and, after hiding the money bag under the seat, she pushed the lock on her door, went around and did the same thing on Stuart’s and headed inside.

This place put any restaurant back home in Bascombe to shame. Dark, solid woods decorated the whole thing, with sharp white linen on each table and silver polished to a high shine. She wanted to eat here more than anything in the world, she realized, but she didn’t think they’d fit in. They were dressed in dungarees, with a blouse for her and a white tee for Stuart. Plus, they were road grimy and tired-looking and she knew it. “Stuart, maybe I picked wrong,” she said softly. “We don’t fit here.”

“Hell, no, Angel. This is perfect for a wedding night feast. We’re not going to eat supper tonight. We’re going to dine on a full, fine dinner in style.”

A man who bore more than a passing resemblance to President Eisenhower approached them. “Two for dinner?” he asked in a voice as rich as the wood beams around them.

“Yes, my good man,” said Stuart. “Your finest table for my new bride.”

The man smiled at him, but it didn’t look genuine to Mandy. “We have a special place for newlyweds,” he said.

He led the Masamolis past a few diners dressed in clothing that matched the cars outside and to a secluded cove on the far side of the room, where he pulled out a chair. Stuart sat and motioned for Mandy to sit across from him. She did, and the man said, “Byron will be your waiter this evening. He’ll be with you shortly. Enjoy your dinner.”

Mandy waited for the man to be out of earshot before whispering to Stuart, “If that guy’s not our waiter, what is he?”

“That’s…that’s what you call the table show-er, Angel. Get used to it. This is how we’ll be living regular soon enough.”

A white-haired man with a bushy moustache and a suit matching the table guy’s appeared at their side. “Welcome to The Calder House. My name is Byron and it will be my pleasure to serve you this evening.” He handed each of them a massive leather menu. “This evening, the chef is featuring garlic roasted veal with new potatoes and baby carrots. We also have a nice rack of lamb with miniature peas and a baby corn and cherry tomato medley you might enjoy. Of course, all meals come with a choice of soup or salad and dessert.”

After taking drink orders, Coke for Stuart, iced tea for Mandy, the waiter left them to ponder the bill of fare. Stuart leaned in at Mandy. “Do you think they serve anything grown up here? Baby cow, baby sheep, baby potatoes, carrots, peas, corn, tomatoes. They’re baby killers.” He laughed at his own humor, so Mandy chuckled too, even though the other patrons in the room looked disdainfully at Stuart’s loudness.

Mandy opened the menu and was relieved to see that the twenty would be enough for two meals, though these prices were far higher than anything she ever saw before. “I’m not sure what some of this stuff is,” she confided to Stuart.

“Then either order what you know or be daring and pick something you don’t.”

“Not sure I’m all that daring.”

Stuart chuckled. “Really? Remember the bleachers at the football field during the homecoming game? The health room? Your parents’ bedroom when—”

“Stuey, stop. I don’t mean that way.”

“Well, you were pretty damn daring this morning at that bank—”

“Stuey, not so loud.”

He looked annoyed at being shushed. “All I was gonna say was you were brave back at…our last stop, so you could keep being brave and order something you don’t know.”

She returned her attention to the menu. There was no way she was going to take a chance on some unknown food when she finally had the chance at a decent fancy meal. She settled on a pork chop because it promised to be a decent cut rather than the gristly scraps Daddy brought home from the sausage factory. Stuart, not surprisingly, went for the largest steak on the menu, telling her that a huge slab of red meat in his tummy would fuel his lower regions for a long, good wedding night. His wink assured her he was thinking of her. Byron the waiter didn’t seem impressed with Stuart’s humor or his request for the meat to be extra well-done and served with plenty of ketchup.

While they waited for their soup—vegetable, on the waiter’s recommendation, though Mandy and Stuart both gagged at the alternate, shrimp bisque, since neither had ever eaten shrimp and didn’t know if a bisque was animal, vegetable, or mineral—the newlyweds watched as more patrons entered the dining room. “Man, this is a fossil collection,” Stuart said. “There ain’t nobody here under thirty-five. Maybe that’s why they stuck us in this dark hole in the wall, so they wouldn’t have to look at us. We probably remind them of the youth they’ve lost. Ain’t no other reason for the way they’re looking at us.”

Mandy saw red creeping up Stuart’s face and knew she had to make it go away. “Don’t worry about them, Stuey. They’re probably just looking at us cause we’re not from around here.” Not because their description was on the news or anything, she hoped, her stomach churning. Mandy made a mental note to turn the radio on in the Chevy and not let Stuart change the station when the news came on, just in case.

He snorted and took a large swallow of Coke. “Yeah, they’re just jealous. At least there’s no way none of the crones in here can compete with you for prettiest girl in the room.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “And I could whip any of these old farts with my arm in a cast and my legs tied together.”

The waiter brought their soup and quickly retreated. “Damn,” Stuart said. “I was hoping for another Coke, but Zippy the Penguin got away too fast.” He took a loud slurp of his soup. “I’ll get him to stop next time if I have to trip him.”

They talked about how they’d break the news of their wedding to their families and decided that a telegram would be their best course of action. “No use getting on the horn and listening to them tell how we gave them the royal shaft after all they done for us. Not like they ever done anything for us anyways, so it ain’t worth the bother. We split, we ain’t seeing them ever again, it’s over. Hell, ain’t none of them even worth the telegram,” Stuart explained.

The waiter returned with their main meals while each still had half a bowl of soup to go. Luckily, Stuart caught the waiter’s arm before he could take off and ordered his second Coke.

Mandy knew Stuart was especially glad to be away from Mr. Masamoli, who was about six inches taller and fifty pounds wider than his son. Stuart’s dad was a top-notch jerk who hated Mandy and expected nothing but trouble from Stuart. Stuart had scars from disappointing his father in the past and she didn’t want him hurt again.

Her own family would be a different matter. They wouldn’t care. She knew her parents would tell Stuart she was his problem now, good luck, and good riddance to them both. Mandy was never sure if they hated her or just didn’t care enough about her to bother to hate her. Either way, Stuart represented freedom and happiness and a chance in life she wouldn’t otherwise have.

As she thought about all of the good things life with Stuart would mean, Mandy ate the best pork chop she ever had. Stuart tore into his steak with wild abandon. She never saw him look happier than he did during their first married meal. The marriage, the money, the future, all of it came together to create this moment, the best and brightest of their lives. Mandy hoped it would never end, and she knew it was up to her to see that it didn’t. It was a wife’s duty, after all, to keep the family happy, and she wanted to be the best wife ever. Stuart deserved that.

Stuart’s fourth Coke and their dessert, a treat the restaurant called the Honeymooners’ Delight showed up. It was a round chocolate cake with whipped cream and cherries in the middle, and it arrived long before they finished their main meals. They moved the cake to the side and kept working on their steak and chop and talked about their future together. When they were ready for dessert, Stuart stood. “Before I start this,” he indicated the Coke, “I need to lose the other three. Be right back.” He headed off to find the restroom.

He was back fast, even for him, and Mandy didn’t like the look on his face. “Is something wrong, Stuey?”

“The penguin,” he said. “The damn penguin and the table show-er. Heard them talking. Waiter said he was pushing our food out as fast as he could to get us out of here. Like we ain’t good enough for their fancy-schmancy joint.” He took a knife to the cake and served up two very slim slices. “Angel, we’re gonna eat this cake nice and slow, one little slice at a time, and we’re gonna laugh and have a good time and really piss them off.”

After spending more time on the cake than they did on the meal and laughing louder whenever Byron or the table guy glared at them, Stuart finally served himself the last little slice. While Mandy watched him slowly and deliberately polish it off, she got an idea. After he ate the last forkful, she said, “Stuey, honey, while you pay the bill, I’m going to make a quick stop in the little girls’ room. Will that be okay?”

He laughed. “There ain’t no such thing as a quick stop in the little girls’ room, but of course it’s okay, Angel. I’ll settle up and meet you at the truck.”

Mandy stood, grabbed her pocketbook, and headed to the ladies’ room. She did her business, went to the sink, applied and blotted fresh lipstick, gave herself a squirt of Evening in Paris, and ran a brush through her hair. She took as much time as she could to check her look because she wanted to be perfect. Needed to be perfect. But she couldn’t dawdle too long. She was too keyed up for what she had in mind.

She peeked out of the bathroom door and saw Stuart exit the restaurant. Taking a deep breath, Mandy reached into her pocketbook and pulled out the little gun Stuart gave her that morning. The gun was so cute, she thought, before she learned it was real and what Stuart was planning to have her use it for. Now, while it was still cute, it was oh-so-practical. And Mandy Masamoli was about to prove that she, too, was practical.

She approached the counter where the cash register was discreetly hidden behind a dark wood panel, went around, and jabbed the table show-er in the side. “This here is a gun in your side,” she said, trying to sound as serious as she could. “You and the waiter didn’t want us here, and that’s bad service, so I want our money back. And whatever else you got in there too, as a penalty.” She snickered a little at that, thinking that was something Stuart would have said to be funny while showing he was in charge.

The old guy looked down his nose, discreetly, of course, and Mandy pulled the gun back a little so he could see it plain. That got him moving. Without comment, he emptied the bills from the cash register into a little paper bag with the restaurant’s name on it. Good thing he had something to put it in, she realized. She didn’t think to get anything to carry the money out like Stuart did before they went into the bank. He was so smart that way. She had a lot to learn.

But that was a minor mistake and, if she had to, she could have used her pocketbook in a pinch. The table show-er was shoveling cash into the bag as fast as his old shaky hands could move, so she was doing something right. Lucky for her, no customers came in during the couple of minutes it took and nobody came out. She was to the side of the counter and the guy was behind it, so even if someone came through, it would be pretty close to looking normal anyway. But she couldn’t stand there forever. “Get a move on, old fartface.” As at the bank, calling somebody older than her parents fartface made her want to giggle despite the seriousness of what she was doing.

The guy handed over the bag and Mandy grabbed it, took a couple of picture postcards from a rack by the register, and flew out of the restaurant. The parking lot was clear of snoot-faces, so she ran straight for the truck and jumped in.

“Way you was running, you looked like you got something biting your—” Stuart stopped short when he saw the bag. “What did you do, Angel?” he asked. “Get some takeout for an energy boost later tonight?” He gave her a dirty leer, which Mandy enjoyed. “I, for one, won’t need it, but you already know that, don’tcha?”

She giggled and held the bag open for his inspection. “I suggested they should give us some money back for being so snooty. They agreed.”

“Shi—you…”

Stuart threw the truck into gear and zipped out of the parking lot so fast, Mandy could smell burnt rubber. She started to think she did something wrong, but then he let out a full-bellied laugh. “Oh, Angel, you are something else. What the hell? We’ll just have to drive a little further to clear this town, find us an even better hotel to consummate this marriage proper.”

He laughed again, this time with Mandy joining in, and led them out of Mishawaskum into the dark Wisconsin night.

As they drove along, they talked about their day, the wedding at the courthouse, and everything else they’d done. Mandy relaxed during the conversation, thanks to Stuart’s reassurances. Sure, they might have broken the law, but they’d been careful. They’d been smart. Stuart had been smart. Nobody back at the bank or the restaurant knew them. They had money to start a new life on their own, no matter what their families thought. Their marriage was starting off on the right course, with smooth sailing into the future.

“Angel, we got one problem to deal with,” Stuart said, one hand on the wheel and the other high up on her thigh.

His words crashed her back to earth in a hurry. “What’s that?”

“The truck. Plenty of folks have seen it and, let’s face it, this bucket of bolts and rust is pretty damn easy to spot. Especially with the most beautiful woman in the world riding shotgun.”

Stuart’s hand moved all the way up her thigh and she closed her eyes to enjoy the ride, her reverie interrupted only when he pulled his hand away to shift gears, which was far, far too often.

When she opened her eyes again, Mandy had no idea where they were. Stuart had them parked on the side of what appeared to be a motel. “Where are we?” she asked, rubbing sleep sand from her eyes.

“This here is the Patriot Arms Motor Lodge. According to the sign, it’s all new and the finest accommodation in Devlin’s Crossing, Wisconsin.”

She yawned. “Devlin’s Crossing. We’ve come pretty far, haven’t we?”

“Not as far as we’re gonna go, that’s for sure.”

“You get us a room?”

“Hell, no, Angel. We ain’t staying in this here place.”

Mandy wasn’t sure what was more muddled, her still sleeping brain or Stuart’s words. “You’re not making sense, Stuey. Why are we here if we ain’t staying?”

He snorted a quick laugh, just a hair too loud for the surrounding darkness of the truck cab. “Part of my plan. We’ll leave the truck here, then walk up the street to where there’s a nicer hotel. I already scoped it out. We stick to the side street and ain’t nobody gonna see us.”

“Why don’t we just park at the other hotel?”

“Because,” Stuart said slowly, his tone indicating he was getting irritated by her questions, “that ain’t the plan. We leave the truck here and go down to this joint called the Grand Devlin. Looks pretty snazzy fancy. Perfect for our honeymoon night. Then, in the morning—late in the morning—I’ll slip back to this house I spotted with a beautiful Buick sitting and gathering rust. I’ll hotwire the car while you’re checking out of the Grand Devlin and we’ll leave the police looking for one of the guests from this here dump.” He hooked a thumb at the Patriot Arms. “Meantime, we’ll be on our way to our future.”

Mandy liked the way he said “our future” and the thoroughness of his planning. She could feel the look of awe and admiration on her face. “That’s brilliant,” she said. “You’re brilliant. I’m so lucky you picked me to be your bride.”

“You were the only one smart enough to want me, Angel. Now you, you got an important job to do.”

“I do?”

“Yep. I’m gonna carry our suitcase. I’ll throw the guns in it too so they won’t be seen. You’ll have to carry the money. Now, make sure you don’t slam the truck door getting out. We don’t need to kick up a lot of noise and draw attention to ourselves. It’s near eleven o’clock.”

They slipped out of the truck and Stuart led Mandy down a quiet residential street. All of the houses were dark and she relaxed into him as they strolled along. They didn’t talk during the short walk, and Mandy was thankful for that. She knew Stuart’s mind was on consummation, and so was hers, but probably not for the same reason. Men focused on the act, women on the atmosphere, and this would be her first time someplace classy. It would be like her first time all over again.

Mandy and Stuart had sex before, as many times as they could. This was different. This would be making love, like they talked about and didn’t show in the romance books and magazines she devoured. This would be legitimate, that was the word. Not rushed in the truck or listening for her parents or his dad to come home. This would be fully naked, not slacks around ankles or dress hiked up, with the lights on and without rush. This would be how it should be and, though she’d been with Stuart before, she couldn’t help but be nervous about being with him tonight. She wanted everything to be so right and so grownup for him.

She snuck a glance at her new husband. From the expression on his face, he seemed as jittery as she was. Or was he just antsy to get inside and have at it? No, she decided. She knew Stuart’s overeager look and this wasn’t it. He was nervous too. Though she felt bad about it, Mandy took some comfort in this. He wanted things perfect for them too.

They arrived at the Hotel Grand Devlin sooner than Mandy hoped and Stuart stopped and spun her into a hug. “Angel,” he whispered, “welcome to your new life as Mrs. Stuart Masamoli.”

Mandy smiled. Despite her jitters, there was no better thought than spending the rest of her life as Amanda Joan Masamoli, Mrs. Stuart Masamoli. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Are you ready to go inside?”

Stuart reached in the bag, pulled out several bills and stuck them in his wallet. “I’m ready now. While I get us checked in, you sit pretty in the lobby and give the joint some class.” Arms around each other, they entered the hotel.

“Fan-cy,” Mandy said in a soft voice.

“Fancy schmancy,” Stuart answered. “This is a shack compared to what you deserve.” He pointed to a red velvet davenport in the middle of the lobby. “You go ahead and sit and I’ll get us checked in.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Mrs. Masamoli.”

Mandy watched Stuart strut across the lobby to the registration desk. He was always so confident, no matter what life threw at him. She was the opposite. Until today. The bank holdup. The restaurant. The Masamoli name was helping her become bolder, more like her new husband. Stuart had always been bold. On the day old Poppin’-Snot told them they were expelled from Bascombe High, he asked if they had any questions. With both of their fathers sitting right there, Stuart asked the principal if he was jealous because Stuart was getting some and he wasn’t. Later on, Stuart told Mandy the punishment at home wasn’t too bad—Stuart’s father wasn’t big on education or any authority that wasn’t his anyway—and it was well worth it. When they went back to the school the next day to moon Poppin’-Snot’s office, Mandy noticed fresh welts on Stuart’s rear. He never said a word to her about it.

That endurance is what she thought about as she studied Stuart’s back while he talked to the clerk. His strength was obvious. Hers was emerging. Stuey, she thought, tonight, you are going to learn just how bold your new bride can be.

As if he somehow gleaned her intentions, Stuart turned from the desk, key in hand, and grinned before walking her way. “We’re all set, Angel,” he said. “Room 210.” He helped her stand. “Our honeymoon suite.”

Butterflies the size of bald eagles suddenly took flight in Mandy’s stomach. Honeymoon suite. She really was a married woman. This was all very, very real and she was nowhere near as bold as she convinced herself she was just a moment before. Her newfound confidence watered down to thoughts of whether or not she’d ever be woman enough to be Stuart Gaylord Masamoli’s wife. Wordlessly, Mandy took Stuart’s hand and let him lead her to the elevator. His hand was clammy and she felt him tremble slightly.

Dang it, how excited was he? She wondered. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She didn’t want to disappoint her new husband on their first true night together.

All too fast, they arrived at Room 210. Stuart pulled the room key from his pocket and brandished it with a flourish. He inserted the key in the lock, turned it, and the bolt slid with a loud click. He opened the door and waved his hand into the room as if he were a magician at the climax of his best trick. “Our suite of love awaits, Angel.”

Mandy looked down at the floor. “Stuey, honey,” she said, his voice barely a whisper to keep him from hearing her nerves. “A new groom is supposed to carry his bride over the threshold.”

“Threshold? Huh…Oh, oh, yeah, like in the movies.” He turned toward Mandy and took her face in his hand, kissing her softly. “Of course, Angel, of course.” Stuart took a step back and looked at her as if he were still unclear on what she expected, then hoisted her over his shoulder so her rear end faced the room.

“Stuey, I don’t think this is how it’s done.”

“Sorry. Fireman’s carry is the only way I know to carry bulk stuff, like the potato sacks down at work.” He brought her into the room that way and deposited her, a little roughly, onto the bed.

“Stuey, put the suitcase on that little bench so I can get a few things,” Mandy said.

Now he had his overeager face on. “All you’ll need is your pretty little self.” He moved to the bed and began to lower himself toward her.

She pushed him away. “Stuey, a girl wants to be all special for her husband on her honeymoon. It won’t take me too long. I promise.”

He looked disappointed, but he said, “Of course, Angel. How many honeymoons does a girl get in her life?”

Mandy grabbed her nightgown and her cosmetics bag and retreated to the bathroom. She reminded herself that she was ready for this new life; she wanted it, longed for it. And Stuart was so good to her. He deserved it. And he deserved her to be as close to perfect as she could make herself. Her makeup might not be the finest brands, but it was the best she could afford from Woolworth’s and the Rexall and would have to do. She’d make herself beautiful with what she had, and Stuart would be pleased with the result.

She put on her face; not too heavy on the makeup, not too light, as quickly as she could and turned her attention to her nightgown. Did she wear anything beneath it? At home, she did. Her parents considered nudity beneath nightclothes whorish for girls, though her brother Craig exchanged pajamas for boxer shorts as sleepwear, when he turned twelve three years ago, and that was okay. Her mother said boys were different and she might as well just accept that, so she did. There was nothing else she could do.

She held up her panties and sighed. They were baggier than Craig’s boxer shorts and in no way attractive, and these were the best she had. She looked at her nightgown; pale yellow, not sheer but not flannel, and thought she’d look good with just that. If she went back out with nothing underneath her nightgown, Stuart would be more than pleased. If her parents thought that was whorish behavior from a wife, it was their loss, not his and not hers. She slipped the nightie on over her naked body and reached for the doorknob.

When she emerged, she found Stuart in his baggy shorts, off-white, striped and in no way flattering to his masculine body. Still, this was as close to being fully naked in front of her that he had ever been and she was appreciative of what she saw. No jeans puddled around ankles and no t-shirt barely rolled up. And his excitement at what the night held in store was obvious, and this pleased her too.

Together, they unmade the bed and, once the covers were down, Stuart pushed off his underwear and tried to lower her to the bed, but she held firm. “Stuey, slow, okay? Romantic. For me.” She pulled her nightgown over her head and presented herself to her new husband, whose eyes showed his approval as much as his body did. He, gently this time, lowered her to the bed, and they snuggled in together to start their new life.