“You keep trying to cast me as a villain, Tara.” Jones looked like a wine connoisseur after a fine sip of a joyful vintage, holding the sensation’s ghost in her mouth and mind as it faded. “I’m not. Our goals are different, that’s all.”

“Come on,” Tara said. She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes gone. She wasn’t sure whether she was surprised the song was so long, or so short. Clock time didn’t map to music. “I have a friend who wants to meet you.”

*   *   *

Claire stocked the stall and kept it herself all day, without father or sisters, complaint or apparent fatigue. She even smiled when she thought Matt wasn’t looking, though not more than once or twice an hour and never more curve than the blade of a paring knife. The produce moved. She kept the books and collected soulstuff for the family shrine. Sandy dropped by after the fiercest wave of customers passed to talk with Claire. Claire answered her politely—not that Matt was eavesdropping, only they were close enough he could hear her tone of voice.

Sandy visited his stall next. “You well?” Capistano’d come by too and asked the same question, but when Matt answered yes, the other man did one of those nods you could do only if you had a neck as long as his, where the whole head moved independent of the body like a spring-spined toy doll, and left. Sandy stayed. “And the girls?”

“Them, too.”

“I came over here to tell you off for letting Claire come to work,” she said. “But I won’t.”

“Wouldn’t stay behind. Strong kid.”

She gave him a sideways expression he couldn’t read.

“You should get your shocks fixed, on your truck. Ray’s cousin knows a guy.”

“You said that last night.”

“I did.” Though he didn’t remember. “Thanks, Sandy.”

He took Claire to Cadfael’s that afternoon. They ate in a silence that seemed deeper than the silence of the morning mist and country roads. She ate little, and though she looked at his beer when the waitress brought him one, she ordered tea.

“I’ll go see Father tonight,” she said. “Sandy says they took him to Branch Staffords. He’s still asleep.”

“Good of her to look into that,” he said. “I’ll go with you, if you want company.”

She chewed each bite of chicken breast ten times before she swallowed. “I do. Thank you.”

They took the cart back to the garage near Matt’s apartment and walked home. A light sea breeze cleared the air of smoke and damp. Hannah and Ellen and Donna weren’t home. Donna had left a note: she’d taken the girls with her to work.

“They won’t be home ’til late,” he said. “We could pick them up before we head over.”

“No,” Claire said. “They don’t need to come with us.”