“Why don’t you—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “Why don’t I take a shower while you and Hooch rustle up some vittles.” Ryan winked at Boyd.

Boyd wagged at Ryan.

“OK.”

That’s not how it went.

I’d just lathered my hair when the shower door opened. I felt cool air, then a warm body.

Fingers began massaging my scalp.

I pressed into Ryan.

“Have you started the fish?” I asked, without opening my eyes.

“No.”

“Good.”

We were cuddled on the couch when the phone rang.

It was Katy.

“What’s up?”

“Just finished dinner.”

“Now?”

I looked at the mantel clock. Ten-thirty.

“Some things, uh, came up.”

“You need to ease back, Mom. Take some time for yourself.”

“Um.”

“Are you stil working on Boyd’s big score?”

“Boyd’s big score may actual y turn out to be something.”

“Such as?”

“I found human bones mixed in with the animal remains.”

“You’re kidding.”

Ryan tickled behind my ear. I brushed his hand away.

“I’m not kidding. Anyway, where have you been hiding out?”

“Subbing at Dad’s firm while the receptionist is on vacation. It is so boring.”

She gave the “so” at least three syl ables.

“What do they have you doing?”

Ryan blew air onto the nape of my neck.

“Licking envelopes and answering the phone.‘Bialystock und Bloom. Bialystock und Bloom.’” She imitated the Swedish receptionist fromThe Producers.

“Not bad.”

“Lija and I thought we’d throw a dinner party.”

“That sounds like fun.”

Ryan unwrapped his arm from my shoulders, stood, and waggled his coffee cup. I shook my head and mouthed “no thanks.”

“Is someone else there?”

“Who do you plan to invite?”

Short pause.

“When I cal ed, some guy answered your phone.”

Slightly shorter pause.

“That guy’s staying with you, isn’t he? That’s why you sound funny. You’re playing tonsil tennis with the studmuffin from Montreal.”

“Are you talking about Andrew Ryan?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.” Sudden recol ection. “Wait a minute. It’s been bugging me, but I just figured out who that is. I met that guy when I visited you in Montreal and some serial kil er tried to reconfigure your larynx with a chain.”

“Katy—”

“Anyway,le monsieurwas there when I dropped Boyd off. Whoooo, Mom. That guy’s a player.” I heard her shout across the apartment.

“My mom’s shacking up with a gendarme.”

“Katy!”

Muffled comment.

“Oh, yeah. This dude makes Harrison Ford look like Freddy Geek-meister.”

More muffled commentary.

Katy spoke into the phone.

“Lija says keep him.”

Again, a voice in the distance.

“Good idea.” Katy reengaged. “Lija says bring him to the party.”

“When is this gala?”

“Tomorrow night. We thought it might be fun to dress up.”

I looked at Ryan. After our shower, the studmuffin had swapped the luau shirt and shorts for cutoffs, tank, and flip-flops.

“What time?”