“Okay, but you know how tight the board is. If it comes down to a draw, I’ll toss you to the wolves.”

“It’s a deal.” Hobie held up his Coke can. “Cheers.”

Walking up the road from the Nelsons’, Tritia saw Hobie’s truck in the driveway before she had reached the mailbox. She considered turning around and going back, returning after he had gone, but she heard his loud voice carrying on the warm slight breeze and could tell that he was just leaving. She walked across the dirt and turned into the drive.

“Trish,” Hobie called out. He laughed loudly and rushed forward, grabbing her around the waist, hugging her. “How’s it goin’?”

Tritia put on a strained smile. She didn’t like Hobie Beecham, although she tried to get along with him for Doug’s sake. She honestly could not understand what her husband saw in the man. He was lewd, crude, and a step above beefwit. She tensed as the hug continued, finally pushing him away. The last time he’d greeted her, he’d taken the opportunity to squeeze her ass, though when she’d told Doug about it he said it was probably an accident. It was no accident, she knew, and she’d told him his friend had better keep his hands to himself or he would find himself with one testicle less.

Billy thought Hobie was great, however, and each time after he came over, the boy walked around the house affecting a swagger, trying to put a southwestern twang in his voice. She wished there was some way to get Billy to emulate and admire some of their more cultured and intellectual friends, but he was at the age when that sort of simplistic macho posturing seemed extremely appealing, and there was no way to effectively dissuade him without pushing him into Hobie’s corner completely.

Tritia looked the big man over. “We missed you at the funeral,” she said pointedly.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t go. I mean, it woulda been kind of hypocritical. I didn’t even know the guy. He dumped off my mail, I saw him every once in a while, but we certainly weren’t friends.”

“A lot of people were there.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t. Sue me.” He smiled. “Making friends has never been one of my major goals in life.”

“I noticed,” Tritia said coolly.

Hobie turned to Doug. “Speaking of Ronda, have you seen the new mailman?”

“Yes,” he said noncommittally.

“I saw him this morning by the post office. Creepy guy. I don’t like him.”

Someone else had noticed too! Doug forced himself to remain calm. “Did you talk to him?”