“Chips are coming,” Harry said as he returned.

“Oh, splendid. I quite fancy some chips.” Alex’s grandfather patted Maia’s head, then looked at Alex, suddenly thoughtful. “I’ll need some salt.”

“I’ll get it.” Alex stood and crossed to an empty table beside them. He hesitated, then grabbed up a fistful of salt packets from a bowl. Nothing. The old man watched him.

“So, ’ow’s it feel to be famous?” Harry said as Alex sat back down.

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“What? Ain’t you seen?” Harry turned to the bag hanging over his chair, produced a German newspaper, and leafed through. “From a coupla weeks back. ’Ang on, not this one, but it’s interesting.” He tapped a story. “About towns in the southern Black Forest experiencing earth tremors on Walpurgis Night. Lots of fractures appeared in buildings. They’re blaming a power company that was doin’ geothermal drillin’.” Harry flicked a few more pages. “Ah, this is what I wanted to show you. It was everywhere. ’Eadline says, ‘The Stuttgart Witch’!”

Alex frowned at the photograph the big man pointed out. A blurry snapshot, captured at night on a cell phone outside an opera house. The shadowy figure depicted was indistinct, but Alex recognized himself. He was caught leaping over the photographer, silhouetted against a full moon. The traffic cone wedged on his head sat like a pointy hat, and he held his long-handled broom in a way that almost looked as if he was riding on it, flying.

“Oh, witches.” Alex’s grandfather grinned. “I could tell you a story or two there. But you’d never believe me. Hang on, the dog wants to say hello.”

The old man rose, took Maia by the leash, and walked toward the river pathway, where a young couple stood with a dachshund whose tail was wagging furiously.

“How is he, Harry?” Alex said.

“Oh, ’e’s all right,” Harry said. “Getting more stubborn, if you can believe that. That dog blummin’ loves ’im. She’s good for ’im, I reckon. Evelyn says she can stay with us as long as we all seem ’appy about it.”

“Do you think he’ll . . .” Alex took a breath that caught in his throat. “Do you think he’ll stay like that?”

Several seconds went by. The city boomed quietly in the background.

“Who knows?” Harry finally said. “You know your grandad, son. Full of surprises.”

“You sure you’re okay to look after him?”

“I won’t even dignify that,” Harry said, putting on an exaggeratedly snooty voice, “with an answer.”

“But you,” Alex said. “Do you feel . . . After what happened to you. Do you think . . . How long do you think you’ll be here?”

“Oh.” Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Feel all right. Same old ’Arry.” He rapped his head with a knuckle as though knocking on wood.