His voice was too sweet, like a pie someone oversugared to hide spoiled fruit.<\/p>\n
The chair creaked as I leaned back and gave him a long look. \u201cWell, I\u2019m not dead yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed\u2014that hollow bark\u2014and reached for my hand across the table. \u201cI just want to reconnect. Be here for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Funny. He hadn\u2019t been here for me when I fell off the porch steps last spring and needed a ride to the clinic. Or when the hip surgery happened. Or when the roof leaked during the hurricane and I had to patch it myself, cussing all the way. But now here he was with tea and a smile like a man who thinks he\u2019s three moves ahead.<\/p>\n
The grandfather clock struck three in the parlor. That old thing always ran five minutes fast. Evan flinched a little at the sound. Just a hair, but I caught it. He\u2019s nervous. Good.<\/p>\n
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