Wednesday it rained, and Leo stayed in bed until almost noon, when Jim and Ryder walked into the house and Ryder said they were given the rest of the week off for good behavior so get the heck out of bed, we got rehearsing to do. Leo’s legs, chest, and stomach muscles were sore, even his upper arms. While the two men made themselves tuna fish sandwiches in the kitchen, Leo put on cut-off shorts, sneakers, and a T-shirt and went running in the rain. He ran in the same direction as yesterday but now, instead of turning around at the bend in the river, he jogged on for another quarter mile, maybe half. When he started back he felt a cramp behind one of his right ribs and slowed his pace. The rain came down in a soft spray that felt good on his face and chest. An empty logging truck rattled past him, splashing his calves, and by the time he reached Saunders Hill Road his shirt and shorts were sticking wet against him.

Ryder and Jim sat at the kitchen table finishing their sandwiches, each with a section of the .Boston Globe in front of him. Ryder looked up as Leo walked into the parlor. “What’s your hurry? You’ll be gettin’ your fill of that soon enough.”

Jim said something low that Leo couldn’t hear. His push-ups hurt much more than yesterday, his sit-ups too, but he did five more of each. After his shower he drank a Coke, ate a slice of toast, then grabbed his harp harness and met Ryder and his father in the parlor for rehearsal. Jesus, he couldn’t believe it, a rehearsal.

It was 4:00 on Thursday and Allie stood at the far end of the counter pouring half-full ketchup bottles into half-empty ones. Beatrice called this marrying. She wanted Allie to scrape the last of the ketchup from the empty bottles with a butter knife, but when Allie tried, the ketchup missed the hole and ran down the sides, so instead she would glance at Beatrice down near the register, make sure she wasn’t looking, then drop the empty one into the trash. She was working on her fourth pair of bottles with three to go when one of Beatrice’s girlfriends walked in from the sun shower outside. Yesterday had been awful, all clouds and rain, and today was only half better; the sky had cleared and the sun was out, but it still rained. A lot of people liked sun showers but those downpours always left Allie feeling so unfinished, in danger almost, like she was living on a planet that couldn’t make up its mind.

Beatrice’s friend was loud and pretty, but she looked cheap. She wore too much rouge, and one of those terrible wide headbands that held her beauty-parlor-dried hair a foot high on her head. She had a slim figure though, and she held a packet of orange papers. She gave one to Beatrice to read, but before Beatrice could adjust her glasses, the woman placed the rest of the papers in a neat pile next to the register. “Thanks a million, Bea! Toodles.”