Jolie put down her fork, pushed her plate to one side for the waitress to remove. “Lillian must have thought you were in danger, to kidnap you like that,” she said. “She’d have gone to prison, maybe for life, if they’d caught her. She blew off her whole life—her home, her friends, everything, to get you out of Dodge. Has she ever told you why?”

I shook my head. “I’ve asked, but she always said it was better to leave the past alone. She was a great mom. She was also a master at stonewalling. The more questions I put to her, the less she was willing to say.”

“I’ve often wondered how much she told my dad,” Jolie reflected.

“Me, too.”

Jolie signaled for the check.

I’d left my ATM card at home, and I didn’t have any cash. I hadn’t deposited Greer’s check, either, since I’d been a little busy. I snatched the bill, just the same, since Jolie had paid the time before, at the Italian place in Tucson, and handed the waitress my credit card. I offered a silent prayer and hoped for the best.

The waitress returned, and the apologetic look on her face was a clear indication that my prayer was stuck in some heavenly cyber-queue.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but the credit card company declined payment.”

Jolie was ready with a twenty-dollar bill.

The waitress took it and hurried away gratefully.

“It bites, being poor,” I said, my face hot with embarrassment.

“You really got burned in that divorce,” Jolie said. “I thought you’d paid all that stuff off.”

“That’s the last one,” I said. “I cut up the other cards a long time ago.” I thought of Nick, and his mother, and seethed. I’d rarely used plastic, but Nick had flashed them everywhere he went. Most likely, I’d taken the fall for a lot of hotel rooms, romantic dinners and sexy lingerie. Nick DeLuca was going to be a while getting out of the train station up yonder if he needed my forgiveness to buy a ticket.

“Better take the whackers to that one, too,” Jolie suggested.

“You can bet on it,” I said.

On the way back to my place, Jolie pulled into a supermarket parking lot and loaded up on groceries. Maybe she’d looked in my fridge between going to the bathroom and catching me at smoothing the bed. Maybe—and this was worse—she just felt sorry for me because I was a schmuck with a piecework job and bad credit.

We carried the bags up to my apartment, and Jolie went off to take a shower and put on her pajamas while I put the stuff away.

Nick popped in just as I was turning away from the refrigerator.