Epilogue #2
Kelsey and Andre are deep in conversation with another couple I don’t recognize, Kelsey holding a glass of wine.
At a ball game. She’s also wearing a skirt and blouse and her usual clunky shoes.
Her scarf, at least, is Minnesota Twins red, white, and blue.
She’s mellowed out since having the baby, a sweet little thing named Lauren, and I’ve found that I enjoy talking with her.
She’s also slightly less of a fan of Mr. Jefferson A.
Wilshire III after she found out that he’d convinced Felix—that snake!
—to block my attempts at promotion. I always knew there was something shady about that guy.
He “resigned,” but Wil’s dad denied any part of it, and who would argue with him?
Kelsey also convinced Mr. Wilshire that Wil had already given enough of his life to Hometown Electronics that he shouldn’t have to pay him back for his college tuition. Wil, of course, refused the offer, and they argued for hours before they agreed on a prorated amount and a payment plan.
Wil heads toward an older white man with Down syndrome sitting at a picnic table with Kaplan and Jordan. His dark hair is short with a receding hairline, he rocks a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and he’s wearing a Minnesota Twins T-shirt. He grins and waves.
“Wil!” he cries. “You’re late!”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Wil hugs the man, who is about a foot shorter than Wil. “Uncle Howard, I’d like to introduce you to someone very special. This is my girlfriend, Abbey.” He turns toward me. “Abbey, meet Howard Kaplan, my mom’s younger brother, who loves baseball more than anyone I know.”
“More than that, even,” he says. “Call me Howie, please. All my friends do.”
“So nice to meet you, Howie. You must be a big Twins fan.”
“Yes, the biggest,” he says in a serious tone, which reminds me of my very first conversation with Wil. “I was at game six of the World Series in 1991 when Kirby Puckett made that amazing catch and then won the game with a walk-off homer in the eleventh inning.”
“That’s incredible!” Even though I wouldn’t have called myself a baseball fan until recently, everyone in the state of Minnesota was a Twins fan that year and in ’87 when they won the World Series. “I watched that game in my dorm room.”
“I have a Homer Hanky signed by every single player on the roster that year.” Howie puffs up with pride.
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Wil says. “He’s got a lot of Twins memorabilia.”
“And I’ve met Harmon Killebrew seven times!”
As we walk toward the entrance, some of the kids give Wil high-fives, including his buddy, Liam, who seems to have grown half a foot in the last year.
“Wilsy!” he cries. “You brought your girlfriend.” He says it in a sing-songy voice.
“I did,” Wil says. “You remember Abbey, right? If you’re lucky, when you’re older, you’ll find someone as smart and funny as she is.”
“Smart and funny?” the kid says. “How about gorgeous?”
“That, too,” Wil agrees.
“I’ve always wondered what she’s doing with a loser like you.” Charming rolls up in a motorized wheelchair. He and Wil do a complicated handshake, fist bump, elbow knock, finger waggle thing that ends in them yelling, “Booyah!”
Every time I see him with the Hometown athletes, I fall in love a teensy bit more.
“Come on, let’s go watch some baseball,” he says and motions for Liam and Charming to go ahead.
This is no game six to take the World Series to seven.
The Twins look bad—at least, that’s what the scoreboard’s telling me.
But everyone’s having too much fun to care that they’re losing.
Even Kelsey gets into it when the wave goes around the Metrodome.
She and Andre, Kap, and Jordan are in the row in front of where Wil and I sit with Howie, Mimi, and Bob—Howie on my left, Wil on my right.
Wil grins the entire game. He spends time moving from row to row to talk to Hometown League athletes, and their faces all light up when he gives them his attention.
I know the feeling. When he’s not making the rounds, he sits close to me, holds my hand, and eventually buys me nachos served in a plastic batting helmet. He even gets an extra cup of cheese.
I lean over to kiss him, close to his ear, and murmur, “Oh, baby, you know what I like.” He pulls away with wide eyes and I laugh. “Queso.”
“Are those nachos, Abbey?” Howie asks. “With extra cheese?”
“They sure are. Want some?” I pass the helmet over, but he shakes his head and giggles.
“No, thank you.”
I shrug. “Your loss.”
Howie elbows Mimi on his other side. “Is it time yet?”
“Hmm,” she says. “For the seventh-inning stretch? Is that what you mean?”
When the game hits the midpoint of the inning, the crowd stands and sings along to “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” I sway with Howie, still holding my helmet nachos with one hand and the cheese cup in the other.
There’s nothing like processed orange cheese in a plastic cup—unless it’s queso from La Cuchara, of course.
As the song ends and I sit back down, something in the cheese cup glints and catches my eye.
I turn it slightly and see that there are actually two cups with something in between them.
Something silver. I stand again and lift the top cup to find a smooth platinum band with an emerald-cut diamond.
I gasp. The ring is gorgeous and sparkly and absolutely perfect.
I pick it up but drop the cup and the helmet, and chips scatter everywhere.
I turn to Wil, who bends down on one knee, chips crunching beneath him. He laughs. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
“Ask her, Wil!” Howie whispers loudly from behind me.
“Okay, okay!” He grins. “Abbey Rhodes, sunshine of my life, I can’t imagine a world without you by my side.
I promise to take you to every concert, and to ball games, and to kiss you as the ball drops every New Year’s Eve from now until the end of time.
Everything I have is yours, especially my heart. Please say you’ll marry me.”
I nod and a tear escapes. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Jefferson Airplane Wilshire the fourth.”
Howie claps, and the rest of the Hometown League group joins in. Someone—probably Andre—whistles. I laugh and Wil stands, takes the ring from me, and slides it on my finger. Then he kisses the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got a little something here,” he says.
I stand on tiptoes, my lips close to his ear. “And will you always buy me extra cheese cups?” I ask.
“Always. I promise. And queso, no matter the occasion.”
He kisses me senseless, and the crowd goes wild.