It wasn't so bad in the dugout when we were at bat, but standing in centerfield, I felt like a character in that old movie, "Ethan Frome," standing ou... in the snow in that godforsaken farm field, wherever the hell it was... Northern Sweden, probably. Or Minnesota.OK, so it wasn't actually snowing at Shea, but you get the idea.But it was, apparently, even colder for the Mets than it was for us, and our starter, Rob Murray, was holding them down pretty good. Rob wasn't fast anymore, but he was. She wasn’t red, she was bone white, drained of blood. Cormac turned and faced the theater. ‘Everything’s laid out! just the way you like…!’ He drawled, trailing a limp wrist. ‘At least, come have a look…Max!. I went through all this… trouble! Come… and see! Baby!’ It was terrible overacting in my opinion—laughable—but no one laughed, least of all Lexi, who stood watching him with a hot glow of humiliation in her eyes, as if he’d stripped her bare, set her on fire, doused her with cold water. More

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