Date: December 22, 1989 (Friday Night).
Location: The Cooper Dining Room, Medford, Texas.
Event: The Bomb Drop.
The Meatloaf Surprise was cooling on the table, but nobody was eating. The only sound was the ticking clock on the wall and the rain tapping against the window.
Meemaw was staring at George Sr. over her fork. Mary was looking back and forth between them like a referee at a boxing match. Sheldon was calculating the cooling rate of his mashed potatoes.
"Alright," Meemaw said, setting down her iced tea with a clatter. "Spit it out, George. You've been sweating since Sunday. You didn't eat your celebratory pie at the diner, and now you're pushing meatloaf around. Either you robbed a bank, or you're dying. Which is it?"
George Sr. took a deep breath. He looked at me. I nodded. It was time.
"We're not dying, Connie," George said. "But... we can't stay here."
He reached under his chair and pulled out two things.
1. The beige business card for the **University of Tulsa**.
2. The thick, leather-bound folder for **Highland Park**.
He placed them in the center of the table, right next to the butter dish.
"We have offers," George said. "Two of them. To leave Medford. Immediately."
***
Mary dropped her fork. "Leave? George, we just won the State Championship. The town... they finally love us. The church choir just gave me a solo!"
"I know, Mare," George said gently. "And that's why this is hard. But look around."
He gestured to the ceiling, where a water stain was spreading.
"The roof needs fixing. The car needs a transmission. We're heroes today, but you know this town. One bad season, and they turn on us. Remember last year? Remember the brisket incident?"
"But we're happy," Mary insisted, her voice rising. "We have a community. My mother is across the street. We can't just uproot the children."
"We have to look at the options, Mom," I said gently. "Just look at them."
George pointed to the beige card.
"**Option A: University of Tulsa.** Special Teams Coordinator. It's a college job. Respectable. Stable. Pays about double what I make now. We'd move to Oklahoma."
"Oklahoma?" Meemaw scoffed. "That's worse than dying."
"It's a University," Sheldon perked up. "Statistically, university towns have better libraries."
"And **Option B**?" Mary asked, eyeing the thick folder nervously.
George slid the Highland Park folder toward her.
"**Option B: Highland Park.** In Dallas. Head Coach. 5A Football."
Mary opened the folder. She saw the salary figure. She squinted, cleaned her glasses, and looked again. She went very pale.
"George... is this legal?"
"It's real," George said. "And look at the housing allowance."
"Rent-free," I added. "A five-bedroom estate on Armstrong Parkway. Pool. Maid service."
***
"A pool?" Missy shouted, dropping her napkin. "And a maid? I'm in. Goodbye, Medford! I hate it here anyway!"
"Missy!" Mary scolded.
Sheldon reached across the table and snatched the folder. He flipped to the back page.
"Partnership with Southern Methodist University," Sheldon read aloud. "Full tuition coverage for dual-credit courses in the Physics Department."
He looked up, his eyes wide.
"Mom," Sheldon said, his voice deadly serious. "Tulsa is a mid-tier university. SMU has a dedicated Cray X-MP supercomputer. I could run simulations that would take ten years on my computer. I vote Dallas."
"See?" George said. "The kids are on board."
Mary shook her head frantically. "No. No, George. Money isn't everything. Dallas? That is a city of sin! It's flashy, and loud, and... and full of rich people who will look down on us."
"They won't look down on us," I said. "Dad is the Head Coach. In Texas, that's higher than the Mayor."
"And the church?" Mary asked, grasping for straws. "We have a home at First Baptist."
"Highland Park Presbyterian," I said, reciting the line Serena had fed me. "Biggest choir in the state, Mom. They do televised Christmas specials. And the neighborhood has a morality clause. It's strictly dry on Sundays."
Mary paused. "Televised?"
"And Mare," George said, taking her hand. "Look at the salary again. I can pay for Sheldon's college. I can pay for Missy's braces without overtime. I can retire one day."
He looked her in the eye.
"I can't give them a future in Medford. I can give them the world in Dallas."
Mary looked at the money. She looked at Sheldon vibrating with excitement. She looked at the water stain on the ceiling.
She sighed, a long, shuddering breath.
"Tulsa is too far," Mary whispered. "And Oklahoma is... well, Mom is right about Oklahoma."
She touched the Highland Park folder.
"If the church is good... and if it helps the children..."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. We go to Dallas."
***
"Well, send me a postcard," Meemaw said coldly.
The room froze.
Meemaw stood up. She hadn't looked at the folder. She was staring out the window at her small white house across the street.
"Mom," Mary said. "The estate has a guest house. It's fully furnished. It has a wet bar."
"I don't care if it has a fountain of youth," Meemaw snapped. "I ain't going."
"Connie, please," George said. "We can't leave you here."
"I was here before you got here, George Cooper, and I'll be here after you leave," she said. Her voice was shaking, just a little. "That house across the street... my husband built that porch. Pop-Pop died in that bedroom. His smell is still in his chair."
She looked at Mary, her eyes fierce.
"You go chase your money. But I'm not leaving him behind. I'm staying right here until they carry me out feet first."
She stormed out the back door. The screen door slammed shut.
Mary put her head in her hands and started to cry. "I can't go, George. I can't leave her alone."
"Let me talk to her," I said, standing up.
"Georgie, she's dug in," George warned.
"I know," I said. "But I know how to move her."
***
I found her sitting on her front porch swing. She was smoking a cigarette, shivering in the cold December wind, staring at the plastic flamingos in her yard.
I sat down next to her. The chain creaked.
"Go away," she said.
"Nice night," I said.
"You're slick, Georgie," she muttered. "You and your daddy. Thinking you can buy me with a wet bar."
"It's a nice wet bar," I said.
"This isn't about the bar!" she snapped. "It's about *him*." She gestured to the house. "If I leave... who remembers him? Who keeps his tools? Who sits in his chair?"
"Meemaw," I said softly. "He's not in the chair."
She went quiet.
"I remember the day Pop-Pop died," I said. "He told me to take care of you. He told me that he wanted you to have fun. Do you think he wants you sitting on this porch, freezing, eating dinner alone because we moved away?"
She took a long drag. "I won't be alone. I have the TV."
"You'll be alone," I said brutally. "And we'll be alone. Who's gonna yell at the refs for me in the 5A State Championship? Who's gonna keep Dad from popping a blood vessel when the brisket burns? Who's gonna make sure Missy doesn't date a drummer?"
I poked her arm.
"You really gonna trust Dad to navigate high society without you? He'll accidentally insult a diplomat in five minutes."
She chuckled. A wet, raspy sound.
"He would, wouldn't he?" she wiped her eye.
"Pop-Pop isn't in the wood, Meemaw. He's in you. He's in the way you laugh. He's in the way you cheat at cards."
I stood up and offered her my hand.
"If you stay here, you're just guarding a museum. Come to Dallas. Be the Queen of Highland Park. Terrorize the rich ladies. Pop-Pop would think that's hilarious."
She looked at the house. Then she looked at me.
"Does the guest house really have a wet bar?"
"Fully stocked," I promised. "And cable."
She crushed her cigarette.
"Alright, Moonpie Number 2. But I'm bringing his chair. And the flamingos. And if the maid touches my stuff, I will cut her."
"Deal."
***
We walked back inside. Mary was weeping into a napkin.
Meemaw slapped the table. "Alright, stop blubbering. I'm coming."
Mary jumped up and hugged her. "Oh, Mama! Thank you!"
"Get off me," Meemaw grunted. "George, call the man."
George walked to the phone. He dialed Silas Remington's number.
"Mr. Remington?" George said. "It's Coach Cooper."
Pause.
"We're in. We'll take the house. We'll take the job."
He listened. He looked at me.
"Yes, sir. I understand. 5A State Championship or bust."
He hung up the phone.
"Pack your bags," George said. "We're moving to Dallas."
[Quest Complete: The Home Front]
* Decision: Highland Park (Accepted).
* Mary: Convinced by Religion/Sheldon.
* Meemaw: Convinced by Georgie/Legacy.
* Next Stop: 4400 Armstrong Parkway.