She stared at the mess a moment. Then she rallied. “Well! Your father certainly didn’t tell me that cleaning up after you would be part of my job!”

Hurt showed in his eyes. He closed them briefly, lifting his hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose, wincing, like he had a headache. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

Considering matters, Dolly set the plate of food down on the end of the coffee table. Then she folded her arms. Though JJ’s impression that Jack Mickelson had hired her was what was trapping her here, she decided to use that same idea to her advantage. “I don’t know,” she said. “I might have to tell him.”

“I don’t even remember doing it,” JJ protested. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. The last thing I remember is going out to the trunk of my car and carrying in a couple bottles of Jack Daniel’s.”

She pursed her lips, and looked away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please, don’t tell my dad.”

“How do I know you won’t do this again?”

“I won’t! It’s just, my head gets—messed up, sometimes.”

Her skin was tingling; she prayed he wouldn’t see through her lies.

“I’m not planning on staying long, anyway,” he said. “I’m just supposed to check on the place. Looks like it was doing better before I came.”

She looked at him then, and pity washed over her; his eyes were small pools of misery. “I’ll clean this up,” she said finally. “I won’t tell your father.”

JJ smiled, his relief evident. He was as transparent, and as changeable, as a child. “‘Who is ’t can say, “I am at the worst”?’” he said then, in a resonant stage voice. “‘I am worse than e’er I was./And worse I may be yet; the worst is not/So long as we can say, “This is the worst.”’”

Dolly looked around the room. “Well, it’s pretty bad,” she said.

He laughed. “You know, you’re awfully cute for someone who doesn’t know Shakespeare when she hears it.”

She touched her throat. “I—I’m married!” A reflex, as much as if he’d tapped her knee and she’d kicked him. But her heart had taken off like a horse out of the gate. Stop that, she scolded.

“I saw your ring,” he said. “I meant in a little sister way. Besides, I never mess with married girls. It’s a rule I have. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She sighed. “Oh. All right, then.” She straightened her spine and took a deep breath. “Well, I should get to work. Please—eat.” She gestured to the plate.