goddaughter breakfast? Miss Zula must like you. So are you coming?”
His eyes were brown while John’s were blue, and Angie remembered quite suddenly playing poker with the two of them on a rainy Sunday afternoon. He had been in law school then, and she had liked him tremendously. He was the only good thing to remember about that particular weekend, and she had the idea that he might actually understand, if she were to tell him what she was about to do.
She said, “I am on my way to find John. There are some things I need to talk to him about.”
“In that case”—he took her elbow—“you’ll have to come along. We share the house with him . . .” His voice trailed away.
Angie gave him her best, clearest, most intense smile. “Until he gets married. It’s okay, Rob.”
“Until we find a place of our own,” Rob said, but he gave her an appraising look that said he might have given up the law, but still understood a great deal about the way people lied to themselves, and others.
It was a ten-minute walk, long enough for Rob to give her his personalized, highly suspect history of the neighborhood and for Angie to begin to panic. He was in the middle of an anecdote that involved the adolescent Grant boys, a tire swing, a six-pack of beer, and somebody called Louanne who was now the chief of police, when Angie stopped just where she was.
Rob looked at her expectantly. “Rethinking?”
She nodded.
“You know,” he said slowly, “I live there, too. You’re welcome in my home anytime.”
“You think he won’t want to see me.” If she could have snatched the words out of the air, she would have done that.
“Oh, he wants to see you,” Rob said. “As much as you want to see him.”
She hiccupped a laugh, started to say something that was a lie, and stopped herself.
“I never took you for a coward,” said Rob Grant.
Angie hesitated a moment, and then caught up with him. After a while she said, “Do you mind very much having to move out?”
Rob shrugged. “I thought I would, but it turns out that looking for a house with Kai is an experience not to be missed. And John would never really be happy anyplace else. Something the Rose girls have yet to figure out, as they are still trying to talk him into moving into Old Roses.”
“Old Roses?”
“The family place. You were there for Miss Junie’s birthday. The occasion of the wayward arrow? The Rose girls have got it in their heads that Caroline should stay there for good and keep an eye on Miss Junie.”
“And what does Caroline want?”
Rob stopped short, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say one way or the other. It’s mostly her sisters who talk about it.”
Angie thought of Caroline Rose at Miss Zula’s table, and how she had disappeared from the conversation as soon as Harriet had come in.
She said, “Miss Zula asked Caroline to work with me and Rivera. She said Caroline is the best source of information about the town, next to her mother.”
After a while Rob said, “It’s true that Caroline is one of those people who’s good at listening, so she hears a lot.” He gestured with his chin. “Here we are. It’s not Old Roses, but it’s where my mother grew up and we’re all fond of it.”
Set back in a garden was a pale yellow two-story house. The windows were tall and narrow, with white woodwork and shutters, and a deep porch spanned the entire width of the house. The garden was in full bloom with flowers Angie couldn’t name, and more flowers bloomed in pots along the edge of the porch and between chairs piled with cushions. And, inevitably, there was John Grant sitting on the brickwork step, looking directly at her.
He had just come off the river. His skin was still flushed with exercise, water glistening in his short hair, his skin damp. Sweat was shining on his bare
His eyes were brown while John’s were blue, and Angie remembered quite suddenly playing poker with the two of them on a rainy Sunday afternoon. He had been in law school then, and she had liked him tremendously. He was the only good thing to remember about that particular weekend, and she had the idea that he might actually understand, if she were to tell him what she was about to do.
She said, “I am on my way to find John. There are some things I need to talk to him about.”
“In that case”—he took her elbow—“you’ll have to come along. We share the house with him . . .” His voice trailed away.
Angie gave him her best, clearest, most intense smile. “Until he gets married. It’s okay, Rob.”
“Until we find a place of our own,” Rob said, but he gave her an appraising look that said he might have given up the law, but still understood a great deal about the way people lied to themselves, and others.
It was a ten-minute walk, long enough for Rob to give her his personalized, highly suspect history of the neighborhood and for Angie to begin to panic. He was in the middle of an anecdote that involved the adolescent Grant boys, a tire swing, a six-pack of beer, and somebody called Louanne who was now the chief of police, when Angie stopped just where she was.
Rob looked at her expectantly. “Rethinking?”
She nodded.
“You know,” he said slowly, “I live there, too. You’re welcome in my home anytime.”
“You think he won’t want to see me.” If she could have snatched the words out of the air, she would have done that.
“Oh, he wants to see you,” Rob said. “As much as you want to see him.”
She hiccupped a laugh, started to say something that was a lie, and stopped herself.
“I never took you for a coward,” said Rob Grant.
Angie hesitated a moment, and then caught up with him. After a while she said, “Do you mind very much having to move out?”
Rob shrugged. “I thought I would, but it turns out that looking for a house with Kai is an experience not to be missed. And John would never really be happy anyplace else. Something the Rose girls have yet to figure out, as they are still trying to talk him into moving into Old Roses.”
“Old Roses?”
“The family place. You were there for Miss Junie’s birthday. The occasion of the wayward arrow? The Rose girls have got it in their heads that Caroline should stay there for good and keep an eye on Miss Junie.”
“And what does Caroline want?”
Rob stopped short, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say one way or the other. It’s mostly her sisters who talk about it.”
Angie thought of Caroline Rose at Miss Zula’s table, and how she had disappeared from the conversation as soon as Harriet had come in.
She said, “Miss Zula asked Caroline to work with me and Rivera. She said Caroline is the best source of information about the town, next to her mother.”
After a while Rob said, “It’s true that Caroline is one of those people who’s good at listening, so she hears a lot.” He gestured with his chin. “Here we are. It’s not Old Roses, but it’s where my mother grew up and we’re all fond of it.”
Set back in a garden was a pale yellow two-story house. The windows were tall and narrow, with white woodwork and shutters, and a deep porch spanned the entire width of the house. The garden was in full bloom with flowers Angie couldn’t name, and more flowers bloomed in pots along the edge of the porch and between chairs piled with cushions. And, inevitably, there was John Grant sitting on the brickwork step, looking directly at her.
He had just come off the river. His skin was still flushed with exercise, water glistening in his short hair, his skin damp. Sweat was shining on his bare
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