LUCY FROWNED AT THE MICROWAVE-SHRIVELED green bean draping the clump of chicken on her plate that night. Temple gazed longingly toward the refrigerator, as if she hoped a stream of hot fudge would magically pour out of the water dispenser.
Panda had been quiet all through dinner, but now he pushed his plate away. “I have a surprise for the two of you.”
“Tell me it involves pastry,” Lucy said. “Or letting me cook real food.” Salad was the only contribution she was permitted to make to a meal—all vegetables, no cheese, no olives, no croutons or creamy salad dressing.
“Nope.” He kicked back in his chair. “We’re going out on the water to watch the fireworks.”
“I’ll pass,” Temple said. “Two kayaks for three people isn’t my idea of fun.”
“No kayaks.” He got up from the table. “I’ll meet you both down at the dock. No excuses.”
While Temple finished her dinner Lucy grabbed a sweatshirt and went outside to see what Panda was up to. A black-hulled cabin cruiser, maybe twenty-five feet long, was moored at the dock, a boat that hadn’t been there last time she’d looked down here. “Where did this come from?” she asked.
Panda tossed a pair of life preservers in a locker on the deck. “I talked to Big Mike a couple of days ago. His guys delivered it while we were at the parade and hid it in the boathouse. I leased it for the rest of the summer.”
“What’s this?” Temple said, coming down the steps.
After he’d explained, Temple began calculating how many calories waterskiing burned.
Lucy couldn’t stand it. “I’ll make a deal with you, Temple. If you promise not to use the word
“Deal,” Temple said. “Really, Lucy, you won’t believe what a difference rigorous exercise makes in—”
“You also can’t talk about exercise, fat grams, cellulite, or any of the rest of that crap,” Lucy said. “Basically, you can only talk about sloth.”
“I’m all over that.” Panda started the engine.
He handled the boat as easily as he handled everything except human relationships. The wind had calmed, the sky had cleared, and the stars were just beginning to come out. He goosed the throttle when they hit open water and headed toward the point that divided them from the town harbor. As they rounded it, they were met with a flotilla of pleasure boats waiting for the show to start, their lights bobbing like fireflies above the water. Some of the boats flew yacht club burgees; others displayed patriotic pennants.
When they were just inside the harbor—close enough to see the show but away from the other boats—Panda turned the bow into the current, set the anchor, and cut the engine. In the sudden silence, laughter and music drifted across the water.
Temple grabbed a cushion and crawled to the bow, leaving them alone.
THE FIRST OF THE FIREWORKS exploded above them, an umbrella of red and violet. Lucy rested her head against the back of the bench seat that ran across the stern of the boat. Panda did the same, and they watched in surprisingly comfortable silence. “What you did today with little Sophie was pretty great,” Lucy eventually said as a shell of stars withered above them.
She felt him shrug. “You’re a good swimmer. If I hadn’t been there, you’d have gone in.”
She liked how certain he sounded. She glanced over at him and watched a trio of silver comets shimmer in his eyes. “The surf was rough. I don’t think I could have pulled her out.”
“You’d have done what you had to,” he said curtly, and then, “People need to watch their kids better.”
The sharp edge to his voice seemed unwarranted. “Children move fast,” she said. “Hard for any parent to watch them every second.” Sailboat spars jingled in the silence between booms, and water slapped the boat’s hull. “You understand kids. I guess that surprised me.”
He crossed his ankles. Purple palms dropped a trail of stars, and orange peonies unfolded. “You can’t be a cop and not deal with kids.”
“A lot of gang stuff?”
“Gangs. Neglect. Abuse. You name it.”
She’d seen a lot of troubled kids through her work, although she suspected not as many as he had. It was odd. She was so accustomed to regarding Panda as an alien being that she’d never thought about what they might have in common. “Sophie didn’t want to let you go.”
A silver weeping willow glittered against the dark night. “Cute kid.”
Blame it on the night, the fireworks, the emotional aftermath from what could have been a terrible tragedy, because her next words came out unplanned. “You’ll make a great dad someday.”
A short harsh laugh. “Never going to happen.”
“You’ll change your mind when you find the right woman.” She was sounding too sentimental, and Viper came to her rescue. “You’ll know her when you see her. Opposable thumbs. Not too choosy.”
“Nope.” He smiled. “One of many good things about modern science.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vasectomy. The medical profession’s gift to guys like me.”
