She wanted to hold him forever, but suddenly the awkwardness of it overtook the magic. She thought of her age. She thought of his talent, of everything that made him so unusual and special. He was probably hugging her back because he was terribly upset, no other reason. His heart probably wasn’t pounding like hers. He probably wasn’t as aware of their bodies touching as she was. She abruptly pulled away.

“I guess we should go in,” she said.

Niles heard them long before they gave a thought to him. He was waiting by the front door when his owner and Piano Man walked in.

Piano Man took a moment to pet Niles, while Niles’s owner couldn’t be bothered. Niles stayed where he was, tail switching. He watched with crossed eyes and plotted as they went into the kitchen.

When they were out of view, Niles jumped up on the table in the foyer. He hooked a claw into the florist’s card. He jumped down, landing silently on three legs.

West did not think she could eat the sweet potato pie. She stared at the slice Brazil set before her. The idea that Ruby Sink had made it before her cold-blooded murder was too much for West to process.

“I can’t throw it away.” Brazil sat across from West at the kitchen table. “It would be heartless to throw it away. I just can’t. You couldn’t either, Virginia. She would want us to eat it.”

“This is kind of sick,” West said, blinking, focusing, looking at him. “I don’t think I can.”

Brazil picked up his fork. He flinched as he cut off the point of his slice. He raised it. He took a deep breath and put it in his mouth. West watched him chew once or twice and swallow. It surprised her that he looked enormously relieved. Tension left his face. His eyes brightened and got that fierce blue flame in them that she had learned to recognize and take very seriously.

“It’s okay,” he told her in a strong voice. “Trust me.” He nodded for her to eat.

West had never backed down from a challenge, especially in front of him. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done when she took a bite of that pie. It surprised her that it didn’t taste weird or dead or who knows what. She had no idea what she had expected.

“Brown sugar, coconut milk, cinnamon,” said Brazil, who spent more time in the kitchen than West did.

He took another bite, this time without hesitation. West matched him.

“Raisins, vanilla extract.” Brazil concentrated on his tongue as if he were tasting fine wine. “Ah. Ginger. A hint of it. And a breath of nutmeg.”

“Breath of nutmeg?” West said. “Where the hell does that shit come from?”

Brazil took another bite. So did she. She might just eat another slice to spite him.

Neither of them heard Niles, not that they ever did. He walked in holding up a paw, a white square of paper caught on one of his claws.