“He’s somebody I’d like to find.”

“Because you hate him or love him?”

Asher wants to tell her Luke is his brother but then he will have to reveal his own last name. Besides, the less she knows, the better. For Asher and for her. “I’d give anything to see him,” Asher says, “and I think he’s in Key West.”

“I wish I could help you,” she says. “I don’t believe I know a person in this world named Luke. But I keep to myself most of the time. Except for church.”

“Where do you go?”

“Saint Paul’s. The big Episcopal church down on Duval. But I don’t like to go out at all now. I’ve not gone in years and years. They bring me communion on Sundays.”

Asher wants to ask why she stays at home but that seems too personal. When folks don’t want to get out of the house they most likely don’t want to explain why, he reasons. So he asks if he can pull the Jeep into the garage. He tells her he’d like to get it out of the weather because of its soft top but she is no fool.

“Long as you can clear out a place for it,” she says. “There’s all kinds of junk piled up in there but if you stack it up neat there might be room.” Bell slaps at his knee and rises. “You think you’re ready to get started, then?”

“I reckon so,” Asher says.

“Just holler if there’s something you can’t figure out.”

Asher goes about his work. The guests show up as soon as breakfast is set out. A woman dressed in silk pajamas and a silk robe piles a plate with one of everything and rushes back to her room. An old liver-spotted man comes for coffee and nothing else. Asher speaks to them but keeps his head down as much as possible. They don’t care. To them he is just the help, someone there whose purpose in life is to put out their breakfast and clean their rooms.

The silk-robe woman isn’t happy when Asher shows up to clean her room but after he has been turned away twice she finally agrees to sit on the porch and read while he does his work. “Please leave on the radio so I may listen to it while I wait,” she says, each of her words tight and close like they are each alone. Then she puts her hand out, and he doesn’t know if she wants it to be kissed or shaken. He shakes it, briefly. Her smile is a tightening of her mouth. “I am Mrs. Lewis.”

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Asher,” he says.