“I can see it now, yes,” she said.
“See what?” Amanda asked.
“You’re his sister, all right.”
“You knew him. Dennis?”
“Not well. But I do remember him.”
“You’re the first person I’ve found who actually knew him.”
“What about Ralph? Have you found him?”
“Who is that?”
“He was the custodian. He’s the one who tried to save him.”
“Is this Ralph?” Amanda showed her the photograph.
“Why yes, it is. Where did you get that?”
“From Dwight Bowman at the paper.”
“I forgot about taking that picture. That poor child.”
“What was Ralph’s last name?” Larry asked.
“Hmm. I don’t recall. But don’t just stand there. Sit.” She signaled to the table, which was piled with receipts and balls of yarn and everything else that came into a kitchen because it didn’t have a home.
She insisted on fetching them cups of coffee and a plate of soft ginger cookies with lemon icing. She moved with the economy and delightof a woman who had spent a lifetime in kitchens. “You came at the right time. We just finished lunch, and it’s a few hours until tea. Some of the residents insist we have afternoon tea, though heaven knows why. Not one of them is British.”
“I imagine they’re bored,” Larry said.
“They’re the busiest people in town. We’re always taking them on field trips to see the whales, visit local sites, you name it. Just yesterday we went to a salmon bake.”
“Can you tell me more about my brother?” Amanda asked.
The cook sat and picked up her own cup, settling her bottom into her chair.
“Dennis was a sweet little boy. Well, maybe not at first. He was awfully shut down when he came to Brightwood.”
“How old was he?”
“Four? The center wasn’t supposed to take kids under six, but it happened. It was usually when they couldn’t find another home for them. You know, because of their issues.”
“What were his issues?” Amanda asked.
“I was never told. Just the cook, you know. But in the end, I think I learned more about some of those boys than anyone.”
“What was he like?” Amanda sipped.
“When he first came, he was like a little animal, growling. Then Ralph came, and they got to be friends. They were always hanging out together. I’d see them out back, raking weeds, just talking. Or Dennis would be helping him with the lawn.”
Larry was silent, eating his cookie.
“It wasn’t creepy, if that’s what you’re thinking. Ralph was a nice guy. Just a little... odd, I think.”
“Odd how?” Larry asked.
