“How do you know I’m not a criminal? A fugitive from justice?”
“Do you believe in instinct?”
“Yes, of course. It’s—”
“You don’t have to explain. Just put it down to instinct.”
She had a little table on the porch, a single chair. Brooks set the pizza down, went inside for her desk chair.
“It’s nice out here, the view, the air. You’ve started your garden.” He took the desk chair, sipped his wine. “What do you have in the greenhouse?”
“Plants. Flowers, some vegetables. I have some small fruit trees. They do very well in the greenhouse environment.”
“I bet.”
At her signal, Bert lay down by her feet and began to gnaw on his bone. “He’s smiling again.”
This time she shook her head but smiled a little, too. “You have a fanciful nature.”
“Maybe it offsets that stress.” He took the pizza she served him, balanced the plate on his lap, then, stretching out his legs, held his silence.
She did the same.
“You’re not going to ask,” he decided. “That’s some control you’ve got there, Abigail.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I had news, but you’re not going to ask about it. Most people wouldn’t have waited three minutes to ask.”
“Maybe it was another ploy.”
“Not this time.” He waited a few beats, sighed hugely. “Now you’re not going to ask because you’re messing with me.”
Her smile bloomed again, and damned if he didn’t feel a sense of victory every time he made those lips curve. “All right, all right, if you’re going to nag about it, I’ll tell you. I took your advice. Rescued a pup from the pound for my mother.”
“Is she pleased?”
“She cried, in a good way. My sister texted me today that I was a suck-up, and Ma still likes her better. That’s the middle of us. She was kidding,” he added, when Abigail frowned. “We like to rag on each other. After an intense debate, during which I ate my burger and kept my mouth shut, the happy parents named their new child, because, believe me, he’ll be treated like one, Plato. My dad wanted Bob or Sid, but my mother claims the puppy looked philosophic and very bright, and deserves an important name.”
“It’s a good name. Names with strong consonant sounds are easier to use in training. It’s good news. Happy news.”
“I think so.” He pulled his phone off his belt. “Got a picture of him.” He scrolled through, offered it.
“He’s very handsome, and has bright, alert eyes.” And it softened her to look into them, imagine him in a good, loving home. “You’re a good son.”
“They make it easy to be. How about your parents?”
“There’s only my mother. We’re estranged.”
“I’m sorry. Where is she?”
“We haven’t communicated in several years.”
Off-limits, Brooks deduced. Way off-limits. “I end up communicating with my parents damn near every day. One of the ups, or downs, depending on your viewpoint, of living in a small town.”
“I think in your case it must be an advantage, and a comfort.”
“Yeah. I took it for granted when I was growing up, but that’s what kids do. Take for granted. When I lived in Little Rock, I talked or e-mailed a lot. And I came up every month or so, to see them, my sisters, my friends who still live here. But I never thought about moving back.”
