He laughed, not understanding the joke. His pale blue eyes were kind, and eager to engage.
“Guess not, but there’s no pleasin’ those people.”
I stuffed the plug back in my pocket and went to the place on the corner for some more coffee. I stopped on the way to check up on Eddie. He was sleeping in the cavernous back seat, off duty.
The flavor of the day was Chocolate Raspberry. The Summer People sitting around the crowded little tables wore their weary City indifference as an accessory to their jogging suits and Oxford cloth shirts with little embroidered polo players. There was a lot of confused milling around the area where you got your coffee and pastries. Summer People rarely obey line protocols, so I just shouldered my way up to the coffee stand and cleared a spot for myself. Only the women looked like they might object. The men had lived long enough to own houses out here by knowing how to pick their fights. I was very polite to the tiny Spanish ladies behind the pastry counter. They kept their distance even though they’d been selling me bagels and flavored coffee on a steady basis for about four years. I had that affect on people.
Amanda was sitting at a table in the corner, almost hidden behind the deli case. I must have felt her looking at me, because our eyes met the moment I saw her.
“Hey. How’re you doing?”
“Okay,” she said, looking at my coffee. “Taking out or staying?”
I sat down at the table. She looked like somebody had tightened her all up. Her face was drawn back and her hands were clasped together in a white grip. Only her posture seemed at ease as she leaned in closer to speak.
“I feel so bad about the way I’m behaving. I really wanted to tell you I was sorry.”
“For what? How’re you supposed to behave?”
“I don’t know. That’s not really what I mean.”
“We’re just having a cup of coffee. That was the deal, I think.”
She dropped one shoulder as she leaned in a little closer. I could smell her hair.
“I don’t usually do anything on my own without telling Roy what I’m doing. I mean, I don’t have to ask permission. I just usually tell him if I’m doing something with somebody. But I thought I might catch you here. I see you come in and out of here all the time. It’d be like … coincidence.”
She looked up at me and smiled a tight little smile.
I wanted to get her off whatever subject we were on, even if I didn’t know exactly what that subject was.
“I guess Joe Sullivan tracked down Regina’s nephew, Jimmy Maddox. You know Joe Sullivan? He’s a Town cop.”
“I don’t know him. Roy probably does.”
“He’s a local.”
“Then Roy must.”
“You guys must have met here, as kids, huh?”
“Oh, yes. Roy’s always been here.”
It was her turn to whisk me off the subject. She pointed out at the street.
“I ran over here when I saw you pull in. That big car must be quite the collectible.”
I snorted, the closest thing I had to a laugh.
“Collects problems. It’s a big dumb thing.”
“But you drive it. It must be more fun than your regular car.”
“No, that’s my regular car.”
“My.”
“It belonged to my father. Who was also poorly designed and out of place on Main Street.”
The look on her face told me she regretted picking this tack, as innocent as it looked at first. I tried to recoup for her.
“Is your father still around?” I asked her.
“No. He died when I was little. I never knew him.”
Man, I’ve got a real skill with casual conversation. An instinct for scratching at nerves, picking off scabs.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. People die. Our parents die. Even my mother, who never had a sick day in her life.”
I pursed my lips and tried to look understanding, afraid I was going to stick my foot in it again. She helped me out.
“Roy and I went over there when we hadn’t heard from her and couldn’t reach her. She’d been ironing her little doll outfits. She made her own dolls. She was very talented. It was horrible.”
She looked me in the eye when she said that and took a sip of her coffee. It wasn’t as if she was trying to test my reaction. She just looked at me. Her hands rotated the coffee cup, occasionally stopping it to draw imaginary lines down the sides with her fingernails. They were strong, thin fingers, with perfect long nails.
“Sorry. We shouldn’t talk about all these sad things. It’s just, you know, she was in pretty good health, and to just have that happen. And when you told me about Regina, something made me think about my mother. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“So what was it, a heart attack?” I asked, sensitive to the last.
She shook her head, her face down again.
“That’s what they thought. I don’t know. Roy looked after all that. I couldn’t really deal with it.”
“Roy must be a good looker-after.”
“Too good,” she said, then regretted it. She smiled brightly and switched gears.
“What are you doing in town today? I know it’s not bank day.”
“Just chores.”
“I can see everything from my window. I saw you go into the hardware store. I thought you’d come in here next. You usually do after you stop at the bank. I think it’s funny. I ambushed you.”
“I’m glad.”
She looked pleased. “I wanted to honor our bargain.”
“You did.”
She snuck a look out the picture window as she sipped her coffee.
“Something’s buggy,” I said.
She looked back at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I used to work on big complex systems for a living. Too complex for anyone to ever really understand. Even us engineers. So a lot of the time you just ran on instinct. I don’t know. Sometimes things just felt buggy.”
I drank a little more coffee and tried to keep my mouth shut, but it was hard with this woman. I wanted to talk to her.
“Maybe you just think too much,” she said.
“No, I do everything I possibly can to avoid thinking about anything at all.”
“You said it’s a feeling. So maybe you feel too much.”
“I’ve already had a lifetime of feeling. My allotment’s used up.”
Amanda sat back in her chair, looking into the paper coffee cup she was now crumpling with two hands.
“I understand. I shouldn’t be bothering you.”
“You’re not bothering me. I’m bothering myself. You’re just being nice. I’m not worth it. Not at all.”
She dug a thumbnail into the side of the cup.
“I understand. Really. I do. More than you think.”
Then she got up and left. I watched her delicately navigate the crowded little coffee shop. Nice going, Sam, I told myself. Fucking brilliant.
She got hung up in the chaotic line in front of the pastry counter. I saw an opening form along the window and took it, so by the time she reached the door I was already there, without having to climb over tables or trample baby carriages.
I caught her by the elbow. She swiveled her head around and stared at me.
“You don’t know this because I’ve been coming into the bank every month to do my stuff in person, because
