“I know. It’s a medical condition. Looks worse than it is. Nothing life-threatening.”
“Okay. You leave that application with me. We are really shorthanded on the late shift right now. Round here we call it the zombie shift. You do it too long, that’s how you feel. Well now . . . is that Lama?”
“Laura.”
“Laura. Okay. Well, I hope you don’t mind dealing with weirdos. Because they come out at night.”
“I’m sure they do. I can cope.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hey, old friend.
What do you say, old friend?
Make it okay, old friend,
Give an old friendship a break.
Why so grim?
We’re going on forever.
You, me, him—
Too many lives are at stake . . .
—Stephen Sondheim, “Old Friends”
It was Saturday morning. Shadow answered the door.
Marguerite Olsen was there. She did not come in, just stood in the sunlight, looking serious. “Mister Ainsel . . .
?”
“Mike, please,” said Shadow.
“Mike, yes. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? About sixish? It won’t be anything exciting, just spaghetti and meatballs.”
“I like spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Obviously, if you have any other plans . . .”
“I have no other plans.”
“Six o’clock.”
“Should I bring flowers?”
“If you must. But this is a social gesture. Not a romantic one.”
He showered. He went for a short walk, down to the bridge and back. The sun was up, a tarnished quarter in the sky, and he was sweating in his coat by the time he got home. He drove the 4-Runner down to Dave’s Finest Food and bought a bottle of wine. It was a twenty-dollar bottle, which seemed to Shadow like some kind of guarantee of quality. He didn’t know wines, so he bought a Californian cabernet, because Shadow had once seen a bumper sticker, back when he was younger and people still had bumper stickers on their cars, which said LIFE IS A CABERNET and it had made him laugh.
He bought a plant in a pot as a gift. Green leaves, no flowers. Nothing remotely romantic about that.
He bought a carton of milk, which he would never drink, and a selection of fruit, which he would never eat.
Then he drove over to Mabel’s and bought a single lunchtime pasty. Mabel’s face lit up when she saw him. “Did Hinzelmann catch up with you?”