“Oh yeah. And Jessica got a video of the guy. So, you know, I hope they catch him. I don’t know what they’d charge him with but I hope they give him a talking-to at least.”

Trevor stared, grimacing, at the floor a moment.

“Miss Karie,” he said a second later. “I was a bit of a dick the other day when I came by with Mike. Pardon my French.”

This change of subject blindsided me. “Oh — no you weren’t!”

“I was being a big know-it-all, telling you your business. You shoulda just told me to shut up.”

“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “You were just —”

“But listen — please,” he said, cutting me off. “If something like that happens again — some asshole gives you trouble — for the love of god, don’t be afraid to give me a call.”

“I will,” I said. “I promise.”

Trevor cleared his throat and shifted, looking up from the floor at last. A blush had begun to creep up his neck, pinkening his freckled cheeks.

“Your mother and the Beaner out there —” Trevor began, actually gulping with the difficulty of getting the words out. “Well, I never told you I guess how good your mom was to me when I was going through my divorce. And all the custody BS that went with it.”

“Really?” This threw me. I thought about how indifferent my mother had been about my own divorce. Imagine if our divorces had been going on concurrently — me, a desolate puddle on my kitchen floor in a city many miles away as my mother offered tea and matronly wisdom to Trevor, musing sympathetically on the ancient, imperishable struggles of men and women trying to live together — wisdom I wasn’t sure she could even credibly claim, having been married so young to a man who died so early, and having never married since.

“So what I’m saying is —” continued Trevor, rubbing abruptly at his neck as if it had started to itch. His eyes were darting around the foyer. I could see that talking about my mother — his feelings for her — had put Trevor in a kind of masculine panic. He roughened his voice and forced the rest of his words out in a rush. “For a long time my motto’s been: Whatever Rini needs. Period, the end. And after she died I guess I just automatically figured . . . if Rini’s daughters need help, I gotta be there for them too. I’m just sorry as all shit if I was pushy about it.”

At which point Trevor actually hung his head.

“You’ve been great,” I assured him. “Really. We really appreciated all your help.”

“Well,” he sighed. “You just hold on to that card of mine, all right?”

“I will,” I promised. And in the moment I absolutely meant it.

Trevor looked relieved. Not by what I’d promised, but by the simple fact that the conversation was almost over. “Good-good,” he muttered, heading for the door.