Page 83 of Roadrunner

Lackey asked if he rode motorcycles.

“Not yet,” Arthur said.

Riley said nothing.

But the corner of his mouth moved.

After dinner the men moved to the living room.

Della and I sat at the kitchen table with coffee while the noise from the other room drifted in around the edges.

“He’s wonderful,” she said. “Arthur.”

“He is,” I agreed.

She wrapped her hands around her cup.

She looked at the table. “I can’t name it exactly,” she said. “A stillness. When he’s listening to something.” She glanced toward the living room. “He went very still when Price was talking. Not bored. The opposite. Like he was filing it away.”

I said nothing.

She looked toward the living room. “He’s going to be all right here.”

I looked at my coffee.

“Alex,” she said.

“Della.”

She held my gaze. Her eyes were steady and warm and entirely too perceptive for my comfort.

“He already is,” I said.

She picked up her coffee and looked at the wall.

I picked up mine.

We sat in the kitchen and listened to the noise from the living room, where Arthur was saying something that made Brisco laugh and Riley respond with one quiet sentence that made everyone laugh harder.

I closed my eyes briefly.

When I opened them Della was still looking at the wall.

“More coffee?” she asked.

“Please.”

She poured it without another word.

We drank the coffee. That was the whole conversation.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Alex

Now

Sunday dinners became a standing arrangement.