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to the same place after they had made their pickup。 Thank you； thank you； blahdeblah； bullshitbullshit。 There would be some inconvenience； but no real hassle。
Steve dropped the letters into the mailbox。 There was that satisfied feeling of having his ass well covered。 He drove away toward Portland； singing along with the Grateful Dead； who were delivering 'Sugaree。' He pushed the van up to fifty…five； hoping traffic would stay light so he could get to Portland early enough to grab a court at Tennis of Maine。 All in all； it looked like a good day。 If Mr。 Businessman hadn't received his little letter bomb yet； he surely would today。 Nifty； Steve thought； and burst out laughing。
At half past seven； as Steve Kemp was thinking Tennis and Vic Trenton was reminding himself to call Joe Camber about his wife's balky Pinto； Charity Camber was fixing her son's breakfast。 Joe had left for Lewiston half an hour ago； hoping to find a '72 Camaro windshield at one of the city's automobile junkyards or used…parts outfits。 This jibed well with Charity's plans； which she had made slowly and carefully。
She put Brett's plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him and then sat down next to the boy。 Brett glanced up from the book he was reading in mild surprise。 After fixing his breakfast； his mother usually started on her round of morning chores。 If you spoke to her too much before she got herself around a second cup of coffee； she was apt to show you the rough side of her tongue。
'Can I talk to you a minute； Brett？'
Mild surprise turned to something。 like amazement。 Looking at her； he saw something utterly foreign to his mother's taciturn nature。 She was nervous。 He closed his book and said； 'Sure； Mom。'
'Would you like…' She cleared her throat and began again。 'How would you like to go down to Stratford； Connecticut； and see your Aunt Holly and your Uncle Jim？ And your cousins？'
Brett grinned。 He had only been out of Maine twice in his life； most recently with his father on a trip to Portsmouth； New Hampshire。 They had gone to a used…car auction where Joe had picked up a '58 Ford with a hemi engine。 'Sure！' he said。 'When？'
'I was thinking of Monday；' she said。 'After the weekend of the Fourth。 We'd be gone a week。 Could you do that？'
'I guess！ jeez； I thought Dad had a lot of work lined up for next week。 He must have …'
'I haven't mentioned this to your father yet。'
Brett's grin fell apart。 He picked up a piece of bacon and began to eat it。 'Well； I know he promised Richie Simms he'd pull the motor on his International Harvester。 And Mr。 Miller from the school was gonna bring over his Ford because the tranny's shot。 And …'
'I thought just the two of us would go；' Charity said。 'On the Greyhound from Portland。'
Brett looked doubtful。 Outside the back…porch screen； Cujo padded slowly up the steps and collapsed onto the boards in the shade with a grunt。 He looked in at THE BOY and THE WOMAN With weary； red…rimmed eyes。 He was feeling very bad now； very bad indeed。
'Jeez； Mom； I don't know …'
'Don't say jeez。 It's just the same as swearing。'
'Sorry。'
'Would you like to go？ If your father said it was all right？'
'Yeah； really！ Do you really think we could？'
'Maybe。' She was looking out through the window over the sink thoughtfully。
'How far is it to Stratford； Mom？'
'About three hundred and fifty miles； I guess。'
'Jee … I mean； boy； that's a long way。 Is it
'Brett。'
He looked at her attentively。 That curious intense quality was back in her voice and on her face。 That nervousness。
'What； Mom？'
'Can you think of anything your father needs out in the shop？ Any one thing he's been looking to get？'
The fight dawned in Brett's eyes a little。 'Well； he always needs adjustable wrenches 。。。 and he's been wanting a new set of ball…and…sockets 。。。 and he could use a new welder's helmet since the old one got a crack in the faceplate
'No； I mean anything big。 Expensive。'
Brett thought awhile； then smiled。 'Well； what he'd really like to have is a new Jorgen chainfall； I guess。 Rip that old motor out of Richie Simms's International just as slick as sh …well； slick。' He blushed and hurried on。 'But you couldn't get him nothing like that； Mom。 That's really dear。'
Dear。 Joe's word for expensive。 She hated it。
'How much？'
'Well； the one in the catalogue says seventeen hundred dollars； but Dad could probably get it from Mr。 Belasco at Portland Machine for wholesale。 Dad says Mr。 Belasco's scared of him。'
'Do you think there's something smart about that？' she asked sharply。
Brett sat back in his chair； a little frightened by her fierceness。 He couldn't remember his mother ever acting quite like this。 Even Cujo； out on the porch； pricked his ears a little。
'Well？ Do you？'
'No； Mom；' he said； but Charity knew in a despairing way that he was lying。 If you could scare somebody into giving you wholesale； you were trading a right smart。 She had heard the admiration in Brett's voice； even if the boy himself had not。 Wants to be just like him。 Thinks his daddy is just standing tall when he scares someone。 Oh my God。
'There's nothing smart about being able to scare people；'
Charity said。 'All it takes is a big voice and a mean disposition。 There's no smart to it。' She lowered her voice and flapped a hand at him。 'Go on and cat your eggs。 I'm not going to shout at you。 I guess it's the heat。'
He ate； but quietly and carefully； looking at her now and then。 There were hidden mines around this morning。
'What would wholesale be； I wonder？ Thirteen hundred dollars？ A thousand？'
'I don't know； Mamma。'
'Would this Belasco deliver？ On a big order like that？'
'Ayuh； I guess he would。 If we had that kind of money。'
Her hand went to the pocket of her… housedress。 The lottery ticket was there。 The green number on her ticket； 76； and the red number； 434； matched the numbers drawn by the State Lottery mission two weeks before。 She had checked it dozens of times； unable to believe it。 She had invested fifty cents that week； as she had done every week since the lottery began in 1975； and this time she had 'won five thousand dollars。 She hadn't cashed the ticket in yet； but neither had she let it out of her sight or her reach since she found out。
'We do have that kind of money；' she said。 Brett goggled at her。
At quarter past ten； Vic slipped out of his Ad Worx office and went around to Bentley's for his morning coffee； unable to face the bitch's brew that was available at the office。 He had spent the morning writing ads for Decoster Egg Farms。 It was hard going。 He had hated eggs since his boyhood； when his mother grimly forced one down his throat four days a week。 The best he had been able to e up with so far was EGGS SAY LOVE 。。。 SEAMLESSLY。 Not very good。 Seamlessly had given him the idea of a trick photo which would show an egg with a zipper running around it's middle。 It was a good image； but where did it lead？ Noplace that he had been able to discover。 Ought to ask the Tadder； he thought； as the waitress brought him coffee and a blueberry muffin。 Tad liked eggs。
It wasn't really the egg ad that was bringing him down； of course。 It has having to take off for twelve days。 Well； it had to be。 Roger had convinced him of that。 They would have to get in there and pitch like hell。
Good old garrulous Roger； whom Vic loved almost like a brother。 Roger would have been more than glad to cruise down here to Bentley's with him； to have a coffee with him； and to talk his ear off。 But this one time； Vic needed to be alone。 To think。 The two of them would be spending most of two weeks together starting Monday； sweating it out； and that was quite enough； even for soul brothers。
His mind turned toward the Red Razberry Zingers fiasco again； and he let it； knowing that sometimes a no…pressure； almost idle review of a bad situation could~ for him； at least …result in some new insight； a fresh angle。
What had happened was bad enough； and Zingers had been withdrawn from the market。 Bad enough； but not terrible。 It wasn't like that canned mushroom thing； no one had gotten sick or died； and even consumers realized that a pany could take a pratfall now and then。 Look at that …McDonald's glass giveaway a couple…three years ago。 The paint on the glasses had been found to contain an unacceptably high lead content。 The glasses had been withdrawn quickly； consigned to that promotional limbo inhabited by creatures such as Speedy AlkaSeltzer and Vic's own personal favorite； Big Dick Chewing Gum。
The glasses had been bad for the McDonald's Corporation； but no one had accused Ronald McDonald of trying to poison his pre…teen constituency。 And no one had actually accused the Sharp Cereal Professor either； although edians from Bob Hope to Steve Martin had taken potshots at him； and johnny Carson had run off an entire monologue … couched in careful double entendre … about the Red Razberry Zingers affair one evening during his opening spot on The Tonight Show。 Needless to say； the Sharp
Cereal Professor ads had been jerked from the tube。 Also needless to say； the character actor who played the Professor was wild at the way events had turned on him。
I could imagine a worse situation； Roger had said after the first shock waves had subsided a bit and the thrice…daily long…distance call