“If we know what’s good for us,” agreed Jimmy or Hughie, digging around in his cooler and withdrawing what looked to be a couple of choice filets. “Now, sir, you wanna talk happy? Wait’ll she tries these.”

He was, I guess, talking about me. My happiness. I came down the stairs with my hand extended. “I’ll put those in the fridge.” But Trevor had already handed the guy a twenty and taken them from him. Instead of achieving significant eye contact with the fish guy, I got it from Trevor as he handed me the bag. “Good-good,” he said, unsmiling. Which meant I was to turn around now and go upstairs. But I stayed, instead, to see Jimmy or Hughie out the door. I needed to look past the open door and view what was beyond — the oblivious cars, the placid houses across the street — to see if there was anyone I could raise a hand to. Someone who would see me.

Kelli was peevish at dinner, even though Trevor had made a great ceremony about the beautiful haddock he’d pan-fried especially for her. Just before he called her to the table, he had made the mistake of remarking that fresh haddock was “better than fish and chips” when cooked right, and all Kelli had heard in that sentence was “fish and chips.” When a monochrome plate of haddock and mashed potatoes was placed in front of her, she started hollering. Where were the fish and chips? It made me feel gleeful. It was such a rookie mistake — how stupid did you have to be to mention fish and chips to Kelli moments before suppertime if it wasn’t on the menu? You were just asking for trouble.

Trevor busied himself buttering Kelli’s roll and pretending not to be taken aback. “Well, well,” he said. “Someone’s got an attitude on her tonight.”

“It’s because she skipped lunch,” I ventured.

“Keep it up and no dessert,” said Trevor, placing the roll at the side of Kelli’s plate. His mouth was a prim, hurt line. I was the one who gave him trouble; he expected it from me. But he and Kelli were supposed to be a team.

Even with half her roll in her mouth, Kelli managed to snarl: “Want dessert!”

Trevor shot me an exasperated look. “We gotta do something about the table manners around here!”

“It’s been a weird day for her,” I said. “The early start. Missed lunch. Hasn’t moved all day.”

“No excuse,” grumbled Trevor. “If I ever caught Mike throwing a snit like that at the table, dinner’d be in the garbage before he could blink.”

Kelli brought her face closer to her plate, the faster to shovel food in.

“Slow down, Kelli,” I said quietly.

“No,” said Kelli around the fork in her mouth.

“Listen to your sister,” said Trevor, “and slow the fuck down.”

Kelli started griping loudly again, spewing potato particles from her mouth. “No Trebie no she don’t want to slow —”