Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
JOSH
On paper, it’s a great idea to plan a weekend away with Avery. Just thinking about it has me hopeful about the future, in a way that I haven’t for a long time.
But when we look at our calendars, reality sets in. Mabel starts first grade this week. My parents have plans for two weekends in the upcoming month. They’ve put off retirement travel to help with the kids, so I can hardly begrudge them time for leaf peeping or a friends’ sixtieth birthday party. Meanwhile, Avery’s parents need help round the clock, so she has to convince one of her siblings to visit if we’re to get away.
In the meantime, I have so much work to do. At this point, I’ve met with almost every department head at Climax Parks and Rec. Avery and I haven’t talked specifically about children’s programming, but that’s on me. Even after only a few weeks of class, I’m convinced Playgroup is worth keeping around. I’m not ready to make any promises until I can Tetris my way through a full budget, but when I do, at least I know where to find Avery.
It’s not at all easy to pin down Travis, on the other hand. He never seems to be in his office. Instead, he’s always at a field or basketball court or workout room. And none of these facilities are anywhere near each other. Conrad explained that the Parks and Rec department has picked up abandoned properties over the years to kluge together its facilities, from an old middle school to farmland to a few lots that I’m worried might be brownfield sites. When I finally catch up with Travis, it’s late afternoon on a Thursday and he’s calling a kids’ soccer match.
And by calling, I mean the man is single handedly doing color and play-by-play commentary of a seven-year-olds’ game on a Frankensteined sound system at the edge of a field set at a thirty-degree angle.
“Miles Vanderhoost steals the ball for the Hudson Realty Closers, dribbling along the downhill side. He’s got impressive footwork but—look at that! His drive is stalled by Jose Rodriguez, defensive back for the Jones Auto Parts’ Flash. Nice pass, Jose! Ron Regis kicks the ball to the uphill side where striker Timmy Ballenger scoops it up.”
His patter only pauses when the crowd cheers or groans. The guy must know the name of every single kid on both teams, and his enthusiasm for the match is infectious. The parents aren’t side coaching or behaving badly. Nor are they staring at their phones. Everyone just seems to be into the game.
When it wraps up, I hover nearby while Travis chats with coaches and players and random other townsfolk, tirelessly and cheerfully fielding an endless stream of questions and suggestions. Twenty minutes later, I get my turn.
“Travis? I’m Josh Harmon from Trede.”
Travis slaps his forehead. “Gah. I know I’m supposed to call you back, man. I swear I’m not avoiding you.”
I gesture at the cars exiting the parking lot, or parking field, rather. “You’ve obviously got your hands full.”
His smile is wide, like he couldn’t be happier about it. “Yeah, I mean, we’ve got a solid sports program here. Leia said you want to hear about proposed changes, but honestly, I think we’re all good.”
“What about your facilities? They seem pretty spread out.”
“True.” He gestures at the folding table on the side of the field, holding sound equipment and what look like spiral notebooks. “Can we talk while I load up? ’Sposed to rain tonight, so I need to pack up.”
I look around, wondering why no one’s helping him. “Um, sure.”
I have to ask a few times before he lets me help him stow equipment in a nearby shed. Travis could probably use some guidance on delegating and making use of volunteers, but instead of making those suggestions, I ask, “How in the heck do you remember all those kids’ names?”
He pauses in the act of looping a very long extension cord. “I dunno. Leia calls me a gossip, but I don’t see the deets like that. They’re the threads holding this community together. I mean, lots of things don’t stick in my brain. I don’t know the difference between a stock and a bond, I couldn’t tell you any state capitals outside of New York’s or the difference between the Greek and Roman gods. That stuff’s not important to me, though. I care about my kids and this town. The people I can make a difference to. I can’t do anything about the rest of the world, so I don’t bother to hang on to it.”
Curious, I point at my chest, brows up. “What about newcomers like me?”
“We’ve had a slew of new folks move to town this past year, so I am a bit behind.” He scratches his chin. “Let’s see. Josh Harmon. Single dad of Mabel and Percy. Your parents moved here to help you out when you got the job at Trede at the beginning of the summer.”
My jaw drops. “How the hell do you know all that?”
He holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I do my best to use my powers for good, not evil.”
“But how?”
“I’ve met your mom.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. She’s a regular in one of my weight training classes. Those ladies like to chat. I just listen. That shit gets stored away in the little folders of my brain like squirrels storing acorns for winter.” He shrugs. “I don’t do it on purpose. It just happens.”
As we finish loading up the shed, we discuss potential improvements, starting with finding him a flatter soccer field. But as we head back to our cars, I have to ask, “Any advice for a fellow single dad?”
He looks over at me. “What’s the sitch with the kids’ mom? You share custody?”
“She’s not, um… she’s deceased.”
His face falls, and he reaches out to squeeze my shoulder briefly. “Sorry for your loss, man. That I didn’t know.”
“But now you do,” I point out.
He nods solemnly. “I promise not to abuse the privilege.”
“So… advice?”
He continues to nod, and his gait slows, like he’s considering his words. “Leia and I share custody fifty-fifty, and we’re friends. So I know we’ve got each other’s backs when it comes to the kids. Now, we’re not always on the same page about everything, so that does add a wrinkle every once in a while.”
He stops to face me, hands on hips. “My best piece of advice? Don’t hold the reins too tight. Let other people help. That ‘it takes a village’ thing? It’s for real. And we’ve got a pretty nice village here.”
“I guess you would know.”
“Damn straight I would.”
With the current incubator class ramping things up at Trede for the month of September, everyone except my small team is focused on shepherding the CEOs-to-be through the workshops and coaching sessions designed to prepare them for pitch sessions with venture capital groups at the end of their term. Meanwhile, I’ve got my own projects to attend to. I’ve never had anything to do with site restoration, so it’s been a steep learning curve overseeing the final changes to the Trede campus. Nurturing contacts in the business community takes time, but attending events like Rotary breakfasts and the Art Co-op’s monthly Open Gallery night, makes me feel like I belong here.
It’s the Parks and Rec re-org that’s keeping me up at night. It’s not just the fact that I want to find room in the budget to keep Playgroup around. There are just so many moving parts, from figuring out how to plan a renovation that won’t interfere with class schedules to getting Wanda new accounting software and then getting it installed. The latter isn’t part of my job description, but I quickly learned that when Wanda wants something, she gets it.
Which is why I’m in her office at the end of the workday instead of my own.
“I don’t know what it is, Wanda, but there’s something different about you today,” Travis says from the office manager’s doorway. Looking over my shoulder, I realize that it’s nearly dark.
“Wanda had to pick up her grandkids, so I said I’d wait around until this new program loaded.” The computer dings and I click around to make sure everything looks okay. “Which it looks like it finally has. Good thing, because I need to pick up my kids. My parents have a date night planned.”
“I know,” Travis says. “Frieda told us about it this morning. You and your kids want to come for dinner tonight? It’s just crockpot spaghetti and meatballs.”
“With your kids? Aren’t they, like, teenagers?”
Travis shrugs. “They’re fourteen, so they might ignore your little ones, but they don’t bite. We do have a dog, though.”
“Mabel would love that.”
“So come on, then. I’m heading over there now.”
Another good thing about small towns: it only takes ten minutes to get anywhere. Even after swinging by Sweet Rewards bakery to grab a box of cupcakes, I make it home in time to corral Mabel and Percy into my car before my parents have to leave. Both kids are very excited to meet two teenagers and their dog, and thankfully, the Blake teens are kind enough to play Go Fish with the little ones while Travis and I get dinner on the table.
We’ve just settled down to eat when the front door opens. “Hey, Travis, it’s me, I’m just—oh, hi, guys!”
Avery takes in the six of us crowded around the table, looking as delighted as she is confused to see us all together.
“Do you live here too, Miss Avery?” Mabel asks.
“No, honey, I’m just here to get Leia’s glasses for her because—oop!”
Avery ducks, dodging a meatball flying from Percy’s fork. I jump up to retrieve it, but the dog beats me to it, and I end up catching Avery instead.
“Almost landed on my patootie there!” Avery’s cheeks go red as she steps out of my arms, like she’s been caught doing something naughty. “What’s going on? Dads’ night?”
Travis shoots me an inscrutable look before raising his glass. “Exactly. Single fathers unite!”
“Zero aura points for that, Dad,” Riley says, looking like she’s just managing to hold back an eye roll.
“C’mon, girl,” Avery says. “Your dad is cool.”
“Yeah, I got rizz.” Travis splays a hand across his chest, looking wounded.
Riley drops her head into her hands. “Dad. So cheugy right now.”
Owen pats his father on the arm. “It’s okay, though. We still love you.”
“You and Leia want some dinner?” Travis asks. “We’ve got plenty.”
“Thanks, but we’re heading to a movie in Coxsackie. She’s buying tickets on her phone right now because my batteries died, which is why I ran in,” Avery says, glancing over her shoulder. “I should probably skedaddle. Have fun!”
The rest of the meal passes without interruption, if you don’t count Percy feeding half his dinner to the dog. I know my little guy will be crashing soon, but I don’t want to leave without helping to clean up, so we settle the kids in front of the TV for one quick show, Mabel snuggled with the dog, Percy curled up next to Owen, and Riley pretending to be bored.
Travis deals with the leftovers while I load the dishwasher, and I almost don’t hear his question over the sound of the running water.
“You know that Avery deserves the best, right?”
Turning to face him, I’m surprised at the set of his jaw. Every other interaction I’ve had with the guy, he’s been as easygoing and lighthearted as the family’s golden retriever. But he’s all bulldog now.
“I, uh… yeah, I do,” is all I seem to be able to come up with.
He waits until the counters are clean and the water turned off, but he’s still in bulldog mode when he speaks again. “You seem like a decent guy. But Avery hasn’t been the same since she came home from Atlanta. I don’t know what happened down there, but it probably had something to do with that turd she was seeing, Peter.”
I should probably feel insulted that everyone assumes I’m going to screw things up with Avery, but they’re probably right. And it’s pretty amazing to know that so many people are looking out for her.
“Things are complicated with us, because of changes I’m making at CPR and my family situation. But I care about her. And I’ll do my best to…” To what? Not fuck things up? With my track record, how likely is that? It’s selfish, but I can’t seem to let her go. “She just fits with us, you know?”
His nod is slow and punctuated with a shrug. “Yeah. I know.”