The doorbell rang again, and she walked to the door and opened it. Peter stalked in with Dani behind him. Nick and T. J. had been left at home. Peter said, “Jesus Christ, you really live out in the goddamn sticks, don’t you?”

Karen gave me the flat eyes. “You see?”

The room felt smaller with them in it and the ceiling no longer felt high and peaked. Peter looked around like he was thinking of buying the place, and Dani stood to the side, sort of out of the way, one hand holding the other.

Karen said, “Would either of you care for something? I have soft drinks and beer and I made iced tea.” The corners of her mouth were tight.

Dani said, “No, thank you.”

Peter said, “I’ll take a brewski. You got a Bud?”

Karen went into the kitchen without saying anything.

Peter winked at me and smiled. “She’s doing okay, isn’t she? If you’d known her back in L.A., you’d never believe it.”

I said, “Peter. Go easy on that.”

He looked confused. “What?”

Karen came back with a bottle of St. Pauli Girl and a glass and a napkin on a Dansk tray. Peter took the bottle but not the glass. “You know I never use a glass.”

Karen said, “I forgot.”

“Sure.”

Karen offered Dani a seat on the couch, then took one of the wingback chairs. I sat at the dining-room table with Joe Pike. Peter had some of the beer and went over to the mantel and looked at the pictures. It was five minutes to four and we were having just a fine ole time.

Peter said, “Guess it was too much to hope you’d have a couple shots of me up here.”

Karen made her lips into a small hard rosebud.

“You know, for the boy.”

She looked out the window, then checked her watch.

Peter crossed the living room and sat on the other wing chair. He spread his legs under the coffee table and held the beer without drinking it. He said, “I’m not trying to create a problem for you.”

Karen said, “Of course.”

“I just want to know my son.”

“He should be here anytime.”

Peter nodded and drank some of the beer and didn’t say anything. Karen stared out of the window. Dani stared at the floor. Pike sat immobile, safely hidden behind the dark glasses. Maybe if I asked he would loan the glasses to me and I could pretend I wasn’t here, either. I made a little face at him to see if he was looking, but he didn’t react, so maybe he wasn’t. Of course, he might be pretending that he wasn’t. You never know with Pike.

At ten minutes after four Peter said, “I thought the kid was supposed to be here at four.”