My mom is usually happy and eager to hear about my day when I get home from school. Not today. When I walk into the house, she's sitting on the counter in the kitchen, holding her wine glass, staring off into space. Now she does have an occasional glass of wine after dinner, but I've never seen her have one before. And she always has dinner started or she'll tell me to get ready to go out for dinner.

"What's for dinner?"

She looks up, like I've just woken her up. "You can have a bowl of cereal," she says.

I wonder if something bad happened at work. She'll act like this when a patient dies unexpectedly.

"Why are you acting like this, Mom?"

She squints. "How am I acting?"

"Like someone died. You acted like this for a long time after Dad died. You know, all deep in thought, and drinking wine."

Mom puts the glass down and hops off the counter. "It's one glass of wine, Jack."

I try again, this time with more compassion in my voice. "Geez, did someone do something to you? Anything bad happen at work?"

"No. Nothing happened at work. This doesn't really concern you." She stops and covers her face with her hands, then I hear her laugh. She is definitely acting weird. "Oh, my gosh. I sounded like Mr. Rutledge."

I follow her into the living room. She sits on the couch and I go sit in the over sized chair next to the fireplace. This was my dad's chair. When I was little he used to let me sit in his lap, and we'd watch television or sometimes we'd take a nap. Whatever she's about to tell me, I feel better sitting in this chair.

"Remember that whole fiasco at that game?" she asks.

"Which one?" I grin.

"The one where Rutledge brought those men from the Booster's club."

Nodding, I wait as she goes on with her story.

"Remember what Gus told us after the game?"

"Yeah, how Rutledge wanted Coach Parker to take over."

She nods. "Well that, but remember how Gus said they inferred his services might be needed at the elementary school?"

Oh crap. I have a feeling I know what is coming next. Coach Parker is going to be moved to Patterson Elementary.

"The Middle School let him go." Her voice has a strange quiver to it, like she's going to cry. "This is my fault," she whispers, her voice husky.

"How is it your fault?"

"I just had to make a stand," she says, bitterly. "I had to show Rutledge and his friends that he wasn't going to dictate what happens." She pauses and struggles for composure. "The trouble with Rutledge is that he doesn't play by the rules. He never has and he never will. I should have known that."

I sit there in stunned silence. She hasn't said anything about Gus being sent to another school. "Is Gus upset?"

Mom tucks her hair behind her ear. "I had lunch with him today. He seems fine. Says he's going to use this little break to do some things he's been putting off. But the way things are, it's not a good time to be unemployed and...," her voice trails off. She looks up with wet eyes. "This is my fault."

"Mom, he's gonna be okay," I say. I try to think of something Mrs. Jenkins would say. She always has some good advice or saying that will calm Mom down when she's at the end of her rope. "Things have a way of sorting themselves out," I say. Yep, that is exactly the sort of thing Ms. Jenkins would say.

Mom's eyes sparkle and a small hopeful smile creeps onto her face. "You're right, Jackie. Things do have a way of sorting themselves out."

She stands up and takes a step over to me, then leans down to plant a kiss on my forehead. "I'm going out to the porch to talk to Pistol Pete. You wanna come?"

I smile at her. "I'll be out in a minute," I say.

I wait until I hear the door close then I go to the phone. I need to make a call.