“Roll the window down, Charlotte.”

I do. But I look straight ahead at the skis stacked against the wall and the bikes hanging from the ceiling. I count ’em. One two three. One two three four.

“Where’d you go?”

“To the mall.”

“Why didn’t you tell somebody you was going?”

“Who cares where I go?”

“I do. You scared me. And the kids.”

“My heart goes out to all y’all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong.”

“No I do not.”

“Think about it for a minute or two.”

“Hold on, now. Smitty called a half-hour ago cussing me out.”

Now I look at him. “Go on. You getting warmer.”

“Why’d you call over there?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“I felt like it.”

“Charlotte, you done got Smitty in a heap of trouble.”

“How’d I get Smitty in trouble?”

“First of all, I didn’t know he hadn’t told his wife he was going fishing, but he said you told her.”

“I thought she knew.”

“Well, apparently she didn’t know, and it wasn’t your place to tell her.”

“It wasn’t my intention to. When she told me about Smitty’s uncle’s funeral, I thought you was lying to me.”

“Smitty said he didn’t even know his uncle that good, and, besides, he’s sick of funerals. This would make his fourth one this year and it ain’t even April.”

“So what are you telling me, Al?”

“I’m telling you that Smitty lied to his wife.”

“So—you saying you are going fishing?”

“I told you that’s where I was going. Oh, so you didn’t believe me?”

“No.”

“I said it was gon’ be me and Smitty, and a group of other guys.”

“Yeah, but what other guys?”

“Bill Carson, Willie, and Buffalo.”

“For real?”

“Well, we can forget about Smitty. He ain’t going nowhere now. He’s grounded.”

“How can he be ‘grounded’?”

“You know how his wife is, Charlotte.”

“I’m sorry, Al.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Smitty’s the one who’s mad. You can take it up with him.”

I open the car door and he backs away to make room. “What’s that on your finger?”

Shit. I didn’t want him to see this. I’ll take it back. Tomorrow. Didn’t need it. Got enough diamonds. “Nothing.”

“Let me see.” He takes my hand but I don’t want him to see the splotches. It’s too late. Now I feel stupid for spending all this money on a ring I didn’t need, not to mention this hat. Which apparently he ain’t noticed. “It’s pretty.”

“What?” He must not be able to see in this light. Good.

“So—was this a revenge ring?”

“Kinda. But I can take it back.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause I don’t need it.”

“We got a house full of stuff we don’t need, don’t we, Charlotte?”

“Yep.”

“So you still don’t trust the old man?”

“I want to, Al.”

“You should. You really should.”

I get out the truck, and since the windows are tinted he don’t even see the bags in the back seat and I don’t bother to get ’em. When we get inside, the kids have left the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and a few dried-up slices for me, I guess. But I don’t eat nobody’s pizza.