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Wade’s eyes widened. “You sure?”
I nodded. “I’m sure.” He gave me a salute and walked away. Meanwhile, Oren took the square out of his pocket and began swishing it over the bench he was about to sit on. Like that was going to help rid it of all the dried seagull shit. Finally, he sat down.
“Interesting establishment,” he said. “Very different from the last restaurant I ate at in New Orleans.”
“How was your trip?”
“Boring. But I hear things are getting interesting here.”
“If that’s what you want to call it. Listen, I asked you here—”
“Before we start, do you mind if I order some lunch? I’m quite peckish.”
“Sure,” I said. Oren stood and, after a moment spent extricating himself from the picnic table, walked over to the truck to order. I sat and thought about what I was going to say. That was part of my problem. I just came at things, all aggression. I never stopped to think about how to say the things I wanted to say. But I was going to learn. For Greer.
“Should just be a moment,” Oren said, sitting back down. “They’re going to bring it out to me, isn’t that nice? Now, what did you want to speak with me about? How’s our Greer?”
“Fine, as far as I know. She dumped me, though.”
“I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard.” He paused to let the news sink in before continuing. “Maybe Greer doesn’t belong here after all. Have you ever considered that she might ultimately have a better life if she moved back to Shreveport and was free to pursue her dreams?”
I had considered it, more than once since she’d returned. And I agreed. Only…
“No one will ever love her the way I do. So, her best life is with me.”
I couldn’t have said that seven years ago, but now I could give Greer anything she wanted—except for one thing. Oren sat, eyebrow raised, waiting for me to continue.
“I know you and Greer have always had a good relationship.” He cleared his throat. “Even when she lived here the first time. You might as well know that I’ve been trying to find out who Greer’s father is.”
Oren stilled.
“And I didn’t even know where to start until I spoke with Anna. She said something…”
“What did she say?” Oren demanded, in a voice that very much did not match his Colonel Sanders outfit.
“She said you were around the house then. To talk to you. That maybe you’d have some ideas of who Blair was spending time with during the year before she left.”
Oren sat rigidly for a moment before his whole body seemed to crumple against the table.
“I…I knew Blair very well in those days,” he started. “As far as I know, there were no young men around the house who could have fathered Greer.”
Bile churned in my gut. “What are you saying exactly?”
“Only just that.”
I steeled myself to ask the question I really didn’t want to ask. “Are you saying that Sterling is Greer’s father?”
Oren’s eyes widened. “No…” he sputtered. “No, no, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“Why do you know that so definitively, but you don’t have any other information?”
Oren rose. “I…I’m not prepared to have this conversation, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jace. But I have to go.”
“Wait—what about your food? And when will you be prepared to have the conversation?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time coming, and…I have to go.”
Oren walked away, passing the teenager bringing out his fish and chips who set them next to the number on the picnic table. I sat at the table for a long time, staring straight ahead, trying to make sense of the conversation, until the day began to wane, and the fog rolled in. Until the fish and fries cooled to a soggy mess in their paper-lined vessel.
