“Excellent,” he said. “Then I’ll expect you for tea. It’s an afternoon custom in my home, a legacy of the years I lived in England several decades ago. And do bring Diesel with you.” He rose and extended his right hand.
I stood to shake his hand. “We’ll see you this afternoon at four. Now, let me just put on Diesel’s leash, and we’ll go downstairs to let you out of the building.”
A couple of minutes later, the front door locked behind us, Diesel and I bade good-bye to Mr. Delacorte. I waited until he was in his car and driving away before I turned to head for home. The morning was pleasant, not too cool, not too warm, and the walk home was most enjoyable.
Sean’s car was gone, I noticed when we approached our block. I hoped he hadn’t changed his mind about staying with me. Surely he wouldn’t have gone back to Texas.
By the time we reached the front walk, I could hear barking coming from inside the house. Feeling oddly reassured by Dante’s racket, I opened the front door, being careful not to let the excited poodle out. Dante moved out of reach when Diesel batted at him. I managed to squeeze in and shut the door, only to discover shreds of newspaper all over the hall and on the first three steps of the staircase. Dante had done what all bored, unhappy dogs do when they’re left alone. I felt sorry for the poor little guy, but I was going to leave this mess for Sean to clean up.
After removing Diesel’s harness, I checked the water and dry food supply in the utility room. Then I went upstairs to change into more casual weekend clothes.
By the time Diesel and I returned downstairs about twenty minutes later, Sean was back and in the kitchen, putting some bottles of beer in the refrigerator. Dante’s mess was gone, and the poodle lay on the floor a few feet away from Sean, his head down on his front paws. Diesel padded over to the dog and sat down beside him.
“Sorry about the newspaper, Dad,” Sean said as he shut the door of the fridge. “I scolded Dante for making such a mess. I don’t know how he got hold of the newspaper unless he jumped on the table somehow.”
I pointed to one of the chairs around the table, pushed back several inches. “He probably hopped up into the chair and then onto the table. But there’s no real harm done. He simply wasn’t happy about being left alone.”
“I know,” Sean said. “But I can’t take him everywhere I go. That’s just nuts.”
Two seconds later, he realized what he’d said. He started to apologize, but I waved it away. “Again, no harm done. You aren’t the first person to think I’m eccentric because Diesel goes almost everywhere with me.” I grinned. “Every Southern family worth anything has at least one eccentric among its ranks. And I’m it for the Harris clan.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when Laura and I arrange for the competency hearings,” he said, totally deadpan.
This was more like the Sean I knew, always ready with a witty retort. He did look better this morning after a good night’s sleep. All he needed now was plenty of good food to put back on some much-needed weight, and he’d be back to normal—physically, at least.
“Did you have breakfast? When I came down this morning it looked like you’d been up at some point and had something to eat.” I went to the sink for a glass of water.
“That was a snack about three this morning,” Sean said. “I stopped at a fast-food place just now and had something before I went to the grocery store.” He snapped his fingers, and Dante’s head popped up. “Come on, dog, I think you need to run around in the backyard and burn up some of that restless energy. See you later, Dad.”
Dante followed Sean toward the door into the hall, and Diesel went with them.
“Hold on a second, Sean,” I said, and he turned to look back at me. “About lunch. I thought I might take you to one of my favorite places. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk from here, and we can take the guys with us.”
“Must be an interesting place if it allows animals,” Sean said. He shrugged. “Sure, why not? When do you want to go?”
“Eleven,” I said.
“See you then.” Sean disappeared down the hall with his two companions.
I finished my glass of water and thought about Sean’s manner toward me. He was polite, but distant. Perhaps I could get him to open up a little more during the walk or over lunch. The more I could get him to relax, the better. I decided I’d read until it was time to leave and went upstairs to my bedroom.
At eleven Sean met me at the front door with Dante on his leash. “So, where are we going?” Sean asked when we were outside on the front walk.
“The square. There’s a French bakery there, and the owner, Helen Louise Brady, is an old friend of mine and your mother’s.”
“Sounds interesting.” Sean glanced at me briefly. “Lunch will be my treat.”
“Sure. Helen Louise has a limited lunch menu, but everything on it is delicious.” During the walk I told Sean about the job Mr. Delacorte wanted me to do. He whistled when I told him the hourly rate. “That’s more than a lot of lawyers make.”
