Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “Like which ones?”
Zelda hummed the Grandma Muertas song.
Hazel didn’t smile.
• • • •
TOMAS COULDN’T CONCENTRATE. Half a bottle of Illinois Blue Bourbon last night hadn’t helped. Nor did Cheng insisting he repeat the conversation with Grandma three times, every word, every inflection.
“Damnit, there’s nothing else,” he exploded. “She wants me gone.”
There, he’d finally said it. The bourbon, the anger, lack of sleep, the fear erupted. He turned away, ashamed of his tears. Cheng sat beside him on the narrow couch in his office.
“It’s not you, Tomas. This has been a long time coming.” Albert hesitated. “I’ve covered up for her for years.”
Tomas frowned. “What’re you talking about? Grandma’s top of her game.”
“You hear the orders, not the deliberation.”
“I know how she thinks…”
“Do you really?” That stung Tomas into silence. “She wanted to let Allahs in about three years ago.”
Tomas couldn’t believe this. “How?”
“Dissidents. We received a report from Morocco about some group, cult, who can keep up with the names, but supposedly, they were unhappy about the Caliphate. Like the Son, but more officially. The Mufti of the Moroccan Caliphate was eager to get rid of them. In the dispatch the Cairo Collector passed along, they were considered dhimmi, infidels, whatever. Grandma swallowed the bait. Can you imagine fifty thousand Allahs back in America under the guise of political dissidents? Oh, she ranted and raved about our roots as an immigrant nation. Finally Laredo and Denise,” Cheng referred to a couple Second Cousins, “weighed in and we convinced her they’d be security risks. The children, she kept saying. Where will the Allah children grow up?”
White flecks dotted Cheng’s lips. “Where the hell will American children live if the Camels blow us up again?”
Tomas had no recollection of this. Wait. Three years ago. That’s when she dropped out of sight the first time.
“She also dabbled in unilateral disarmament,” Cheng’s voice dropped as if too horrified to even say the words.
“Giving up the nukes?” Tomas was equally sickened.
“Trading some to regain lost territories. She was after parts of South America. Brazil, Venezuela.”
“The Allahs would move back the second we dumped our weapons.”
The notion of Grandma making a mistake was barely tolerable. Grandma no longer functioning as Grandma was unthinkable. Who’d take over?
Albert acknowledged his hard stare. “Lenora probably wants me gone, too. That could be why she’s raising the profile of Kenuda. But you must obey her, Tomas.” Cheng exhaled very slowly. “No matter what, you’re probably the only one she still trusts, which is good. You can keep me informed.”
Spying on Grandma. Equally unthinkable. Yet what choice did he have. Tomas blinked back tears and Cheng rubbed his shoulder.
“She’s right to be worried, though. Something’s up. Abdullah’s allies have changed codes on their army groups.”
Tomas frowned. “Maybe they’re really gathering strength and expanding the conspiracy.”
“Against who? The Mufti? Or us?”Cheng pursed his lips. “We’re on full military alert. Yes, I know. That order’s only to come from Grandma. But I couldn’t take a chance. Our nukes are locked. If they make a move…I’ll shit on rubble rather than let those Camels march in.” He patted Tomas’ knee. “I know what I’m asking.”
“I’m not betraying her,” Tomas said hoarsely.
“Nor am I, Tomas. We’re not the traitors anymore.”
• • • •
FRECKLIE BASHED HIS right knee into the tip of the mahogany end table. Exhausted after running up and down a ladder outside the stadium all night, Frecklie wondered if he’d mindlessly walked into the wrong house where bedroom furniture was in the hallway.
He edged his way along the couch in the dark, stubbing his toe on a dining room chair and feeling his way to her door. If his mother was going to re-decorate in the middle of the night, she didn’t deserve a knock.
Her room was empty except for a flashlight hanging from the curtain rod.
“Close the door,” Beth snapped, kneeling by the closet.
An American flag covered the entire floor like a rug.
“Shit.”
That all you have to say, she raised an eyebrow.
Yes. They stared at the flag together for a moment. He counted the stars. Should be forty-eight.
Fifty. Beth’s eyes flashed.
Hawaii and Alaska are neutral.
Fifty. She fussed with a stitch, walking sidewise toward him to avoid stepping on the flag. Her eyes shone like when she prayed, Frecklie thought.
Never seen a flag, he gestured.
“I started making this just after your father died.” Beth peered into the stripes as if her dead husband were hiding there. “Then I stopped because I couldn’t risk getting arrested. Who would’ve taken care of you?”
“What do we do with it?”
Beth sighed wearily. “It’s for the game, Ruben. We’re honoring the soldiers. We’re honoring our country. Not the Grandma crap. These are real feelings.”
Frecklie was startled by her vehemence.
“They’ll use this flag when they present the color guard.” She paused, thinking. “After that’s done, it has to wave somewhere.”
“How about by the banners you made?” he asked softly.
“No, we need something more visible. An American flag hasn’t flown since the war ended. It has to be special. Like in center field. Yes. Center field.” Beth’s eyes glittered. “Coordinate that with Dale. I’m sure she’ll have an idea.”
“She always does.” He rolled his eyes.
Beth studied him carefully. “You love her, right?”
“Sure.”
“Answers are so easy at your age.”
“Only some.”
Beth smiled. “You can be a baseball architect now that Grandma’s allowing the game to continue.”
“We thought they’d start with just a few, but they’re rebuilding all the stadiums,” he said wonderingly.
“That makes a bigger splash this way. No favoritism for any city.” She grunted at Grandma’s wisdom. “America’s pastime again. Which stadium are you going to design?”
Frecklie hesitated. “Fenway Park. Puppy said he’d give my drawings to Commissioner Kenuda. There’s going to be a, a, you know…”
“Process.”
“And nothing’s guaranteed. There could be people with better ideas.”
“I kind of doubt it,” she said, laughing. “Show me.”
Frecklie went down the hall, tripping over knick-knacks on the floor; he grumbled loudly from his room.
“They’re not behind your dresser anymore. I put them back under under your mattress,” Beth called out.
Frecklie returned
