The Lucky One(40)
He went up the steps, paused to wipe his feet, and stepped inside. Taking in the room, he noted the antique furniture and original paintings that hung on the wall. Like a country parlor, he thought, which wasn’t what he had pictured.
“Your home is lovely,” he called out.
“Thank you.” Her head poked out from the kitchen. “Haven’t you seen it before?”
“No.”
“I just assumed you had. Feel free to take a look around.”
She vanished from view, and Thibault wandered around the room, noting the collection of Hummels displayed on the shelves of the dining room hutch. He smiled. He’d always liked those things.
On the mantel, he spotted a collection of photographs and moved to study them. Two or three were of Ben, including one in which he was missing a couple of his front teeth. Beside them was a nice shot of Elizabeth in a cap and gown, standing beside her grandparents, and a portrait of Nana and her husband. In the corner, he noted a portrait of a young marine in dress blues, standing at ease.
The young marine who’d lost the photo in Iraq?
“That’s Drake,” she said from behind him. “My brother.”
Thibault turned. “Younger or older?”
“A year younger.”
She handed him the glass of lemonade without further comment, and Thibault sensed that the subject was closed. She took a step toward the front door.
“Let’s go sit on the porch. I’ve been inside all day, and besides, I want to keep an eye on Ben. He has a tendency to wander.”
Elizabeth took a seat on the steps out front. The sun drilled down through the clouds, but the shade from the porch stretched to cover them. Elizabeth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry. This is the best I can do. I’ve been trying to talk Nana into getting a porch swing, but she says it’s too country.”
In the distance, Ben and Zeus were running through the grass, Ben laughing as he tried to grab for the stick in Zeus’s mouth. Elizabeth smiled. “I’m glad to see him getting his energy out. He had his first violin lesson today, so he didn’t have a chance after school.”
“Did he enjoy it?”
“He liked it. Or at least he said he did.” She turned toward him. “Did you like it when you were a kid?”
“Most of the time. Until I got older, anyway.”
“Let me guess. Then you got interested in girls and sports?”
“Don’t forget cars.”
“Typical,” she groaned. “But normal. I’m just excited because it was his choice. He’s always been interested in music, and his teacher is a gem. She’s got all the patience in the world.”
“That’s good. And it’ll be good for him.”
She pretended to scrutinize him. “I don’t know why, but I see you as more of an electric guitar player than someone who played the violin.”
“Because I walked from Colorado?”
“Don’t forget your hair.”
“I had a buzz cut for years.”
“And then your clippers went on strike, right?”
“Something like that.”
She smiled and reached for her glass. In the silence that followed, Thibault took in the view. Across the yard, a flock of starlings broke from the trees, moving in unison before settling again on the opposite side. Puffy clouds drifted past, changing shape as they moved in the afternoon breeze, and he could sense Elizabeth watching him.
“You don’t feel the need to talk all the time, do you,” she said.
He smiled. “No.”
“Most people don’t know how to appreciate silence. They can’t help talking.”
“I talk. I just want to have something to say first.”
“You’re going to have a tough time in Hampton. Most people around here either talk about their family, their neighbors, the weather, or the championship prospects of the high school football team.”
“Yeah?”
“It gets boring.”
He nodded. “I can see that.” He took another drink, finishing his glass. “So how does the football team look this year?”
She laughed. “Exactly.” She reached for his glass. “Would you like more?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you. Very refreshing.”
She set his glass beside hers. “Homemade. Nana squeezed the lemons herself.”
He nodded. “I noticed she has a forearm like Popeye.”
She circled the rim of her glass with her finger, secretly admitting to herself that she liked his wit. “So I guess it’ll be just you and me this weekend.”
“What about Ben?”
“He’s going to see his father tomorrow. He goes every other weekend.”
“Yeah?”
She sighed. “But he doesn’t want to go. He never wants to go.”
Thibault nodded, studying Ben from a distance.
“Nothing to say?” she prodded.
“I’m not sure what I should say.”
“But if you would have said something . . .”
“I would have said that Ben probably has a good reason.”
“And I would have said you’re right.”
“You two don’t get along?” Thibault asked carefully.