Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part IAnnie
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Part IIHarry
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Part IIIAnnie
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part IVHarry
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Part VAnnie
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
“He was an animator. You know, like cartoons.” She guessed what he was thinking. Her husband was the provider. He wasn’t going to ask what she did, because she was a woman and was content to run a household. She thought about telling him what she did, then decided she didn’t need to make a point with this man. He seemed nice enough.
“Cartoons?” he said, and nodded. His expression grew wistful. “Our grandson loves cartoons.” Daniel had another pull on his beer. “Although we don’t see him too much. And he’s in his teens now, anyway.” There was a sadness in his eyes.
“So you obviously have grown children.”
“Two. Son and a daughter. Son lives in Milwaukee. Him and his wife don’t have kids. Daughter’s in New Haven, mostly raising her boy alone. She got divorced a while back and her husband’s not on the scene much.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Oh well, what can you do? You bring them into the world, you raise them, then send them off on their own. Just wish they visited more. Offered to look after Thatcher—that’s our grandson—a few times over the years so his mother could get away, but she’s not been inclined to take us up on it.”
So there was something going on there, Annie felt, but she didn’t guess what, and wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.
Another few seconds of silence. Finally, Daniel said, “You might have noticed I didn’t really want to step inside.”
She had, but didn’t say anything.
“Dolores and me, we’ve lived in that house since 1961. That’s . . .” and he paused, doing the math in his head, “. . . sixty-three years. Built that house with my father when I was eighteen. He was a carpenter, built houses all around these parts. And I worked with him since the time I was twelve. When I was seventeen, I met this girl.”
He smiled, and a web of creases spread out from both eyes. He gave her a sly look. “We were young and kind of stupid, and I guess if we’d both known more we wouldn’t have got into the situation we did. Dolores kinda got pregnant.” He grinned at his choice of words. “I guess there’s no ‘kinda.’ You either are or you aren’t.”
Annie smiled. “That’s been my experience.”