“Is your sister there?”

“Well, she’s on her way. She had a hard time arranging child care.” He sounded a little hesitant.

“She knew about your mom, right?” I tried to keep the incredulity out of my voice.

“No,” he said. “Real often, were parents don’t tell the kids who aren’t affected. My sibs didn’t know about me, either, since they didn’t know about Mom.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, which stood for a lot of things.

“I wish you were here,” Sam said, taking me by surprise.

“I wish I could be more help,” I said. “If you can think of anything else I can do, you call me at any hour.”

“You’re keeping the business running. That counts for a lot,” he said. “I better go get some sleep.”

“Okay, Sam. Talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” he said. He sounded so worn-out and sad it was hard not to cry.

I felt relieved that I’d put my personal feelings aside to call Tanya, after that conversation. It had been the right thing to do. Sam’s mother being shot for what she was—well, that just put my dislike of Tanya Grissom into perspective.

I fell into bed that night, and I don’t think I even twitched after that.

I’d been sure the warm glow generated by Sam’s call would carry me through the next day, but the morning started badly.

Sam always ordered the supplies and kept up with the inventory, naturally. Also, naturally, he’d forgotten to remind me that he had some cases of beer coming in. I got a phone call from the truck driver, Duff, and I had to leap out of bed and hurry to Merlotte’s. On my way out the door, I glimpsed the blinking light on my answering machine, which I’d been too tired to check the night before. But I didn’t have time to worry about missed messages now. I was simply relieved Duff had thought of calling me when he got no answer at Sam’s.

I opened the back door of Merlotte’s, and Duff wheeled the cases in and put them where they were supposed to go. Somewhat nervously, I signed for Sam. By the time that was done and the truck had pulled out of the parking lot, Sarah Jen, the mail carrier, came by with the bar mail and Sam’s personal mail. I accepted both. Sarah Jen had her talking shoes on. She’d heard (already) that Sam’s mom was in the hospital, but I didn’t feel I had to enlighten her about the circumstances. That was Sam’s business. Sarah Jen also wanted to tell me how she wasn’t astonished at all that Sam was a wereanimal, because she’d always thought there was something strange about him.