“Oh yeah?” He peeled the paper off the second cupcake and took a huge bite.
The kid nodded solemnly. “It’s the rule.”
He shot a look at the woman, who had moved up behind her daughter and placed protective hands on her shoulders. “I don’t always go by the rules,” he said. Keeping an eye on them, he went to the fridge, opened it, and took out a plastic bottle of milk. He thumbed off the cap and tilted the bottle toward his mouth, drinking from it in gulps.
“Mommy, he’s drinking from—”
“I know, darling. But it’s okay just this once. He’s very thirsty.”
The kid watched in fascination as he drank at least a third of the milk before stopping to take a breath. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and replaced the bottle in the fridge.
The kid wrinkled her nose. “Your clothes are dirty and stinky.”
“I fell in the creek.”
Her eyes widened. “On accident?”
“Sorta.”
“Did you have wings on?”
“Wings?”
“Can you do a face float?”
Clueless, he looked at the mother. She said, “She learned to do a face float in swim class.”
“I still have to wear my wings,” the little girl said, “but I got a gold star on my fertisicate.”
Nervously, the mother turned her around and ushered her toward the doorway into the living room. “I think it’s time for Dora. Why don’t you go watch while I talk to… to our company.”
The child dug her heels in. “You said I could lick the bowl.”
The mother hesitated, then took a rubber spatula from the bowl of frosting and handed it down to her. She took it happily and said to him, “Don’t eat any more cupcakes. There s’pposed to be for the birthday party.” Then she skipped out of the room.
The woman turned to him, but said nothing until they heard the voice track of the TV show come on. Then, “How do you know my name?”
“You’re Eddie Gillette’s widow, right?” She merely stared at him. “It’s not that tough a question. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“So, unless you’ve remarried…”
She shook her head.
“Then it stands to reason your name is Mrs. Gillette. What’s your first name?”
“Honor.”
Honor? He’d never known anybody by that name. But then this was Louisiana. People had strange names, first and last. “Well, Honor, I don’t have to introduce myself, do I?”
“They said your name is Lee Collier.”
“Coburn. Pleased to meet you. Sit down.” He indicated a chair at the kitchen table.
She hesitated, then pulled the chair from beneath the table and slowly lowered herself into it.
He worked a cell phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and punched in a number, then hooked a chair leg with the toe of his boot and sat down across the table from her. He stared at her as he listened to the telephone on the other end ring.