Karen cried brokenly then, and Eddie was distracted, trying to comfort her. He looked around, found that Skip had opened the door beside him. “We’re going to change places. You’ll do the driving now. You’re going to drive by and drop me off at those trees. I’ll work my way back to the house.”

Eddie got out, went around the car. It was absolute insanity to stay in the neighborhood, much less go anywhere near that house. He wondered in an instant of self-revelation why he let Skip dictate this crazy course to him.

Skip got in on the other side of the car, shut the door. “Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come out the same way, through the trees. If I’m not there give me another half hour before you come back again. But go by the house, size it up, before you stop anywhere either time.”

“What’ll we do?”

Skip looked slyly from Eddie to Karen. “Just drive around. And keep out of trouble.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Uncle Willy was surprised, a little disappointed, to see what a large gathering it was. The place was a grammar school auditorium. He and his sponsor slipped into their seats just as the proceedings opened. A big husky-looking guy on the stage at the front of the room rapped a gavel on a table and said, “Will the meeting please come to order?”

Willy looked all around. He had to make enough of an impression here so that he would be remembered, his time accounted for. A smaller group would have been better, easier to handle.

The chairman waited until the rustling and whispering subsided. Then, looking directly and rather fixedly at the people nearest the platform, he said, “Good evening, folks. My name is Jerry. I’m an alcoholic.”

The audience answered in unison, “Hello, Jerry.”

“He’s an alcoholic?” Willy whispered to Mitchell. Willy thought he’d never seen a healthier specimen in his life than the man in front of the room. Mitchell nodded, smiling encouragement.

“He got his five-year pin a couple of weeks ago,” Mitchell replied.

Jerry, the chairman, now said, “You all know Betty. Betty, will you please open our meeting by reading the twelve steps?”

Betty stood up in the front row, turned around holding the A.A. manual. She was a woman of around thirty, smartly dressed, rather good-looking. She read the twelve steps of the A.A. program in a firm clear voice.

“That’s another one?” Willy wondered, squinting at her.

“Look,” Mitchell said, “this is a closed meeting. Everybody here has been through the mill. Some of these people would be dead if it weren’t for A.A. All these people, sober and presentable, interested in helping each other, were once just as confused and lost as you are.”