The Pinballs
“He was sitting as still as a statue.
“Carlie, let him see his father alone,” Mrs. Mason said when she saw Carlie heading for the front porch.
“I will.”
“Then stay in the house.”
“I’m going for the mail,” she said.
“The mail is already here. It’s there on the desk.”
“Anything for me?”
“No.”
“For Harvey?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong with the mail these days anyway?” Carlie asked. “People are going to quit buying stamps if the post office doesn’t start delivering letters.” She kept going toward the porch.
“Carlie,” Mrs. Mason warned. “I mean what I say. I don’t want you out there when Harvey’s father comes.”
“I won’t be. I’ll come back in the house as soon as he gets here. I just want to get a look at the kind of creep who would run over his own son’s legs.”
“Who told you that, Carlie?”
“Harvey told me.” She turned. “I wonder if he’ll have the nerve to come driving up in the same car.” Over her shoulder she said, “Anyway, when the creep comes, I will come right into the house.
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