What Happened to the Bennetts(29)

“What was Hershey like?”

“Heaven. I felt like I went to school in a candy store.”

“I bet. I’m a chocoholic.”

“Me, too.”

“You don’t get sick of it?” Dom looked over, surprised.

“Never.”

“I worked in a McDonald’s and never want to eat it again.”

“Chocolate’s different.”

“Agree. Should be a controlled substance.”

I smiled. “Nowadays Hershey has the Medical Center and all, the place is booming. Back then, it was about the company. Every T-shirt I had was an irregular from the company store. We had dish towels covered with Hershey bars. Salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like Kisses.” I thought back, surprised the memories came so easily. I felt my throat catch, for some reason. “My father idolized Milton Hershey. Milton S. Hershey. We all called him MS. To be a dairyman for him was a badge of honor. We had a tiny farm, like only fifty head, but he kept us going. We had a picture of him on our mantelpiece.” I heard myself yammering, my emotions all over the lot. “So tell me, then what did I do?”

“Star linebacker in high school. Majored in political science at Bucknell. Graduated magna. One year at Dickinson Law School, dropped out.”

I hated the word dropout, even if I was. “I couldn’t afford it.”

“Hey, no judgment.” Dom shrugged. “Your father died when your kids were little. You sold the farm.”

“We had debt. I had student loans to pay.”

“Grew your court-reporting business, got licensed as a merit reporter. One of only thirteen in the country chosen to go to Guantánamo Bay. The youngest, too. You got clearance.”

“I did, Top Secret.” I couldn’t help but smile. “No civilian was ever prouder of clearance. You would have thought I was a four-star.”

Dom laughed.

“How about you? I don’t have a file on you.”

“I grew up in West Philly.”

“?‘West Philly born and raised’?”

Dom smiled. “Everybody says that. I never know whether to thank Will Smith or hit him.”

“I like Will Smith.”

“All White people do.”

I sensed I’d stuck my foot in my mouth. I felt momentarily like I didn’t know what to say, or how to act. I didn’t have any close friends who were Black, and only one of my employees was Black.

Dom added, “Relax, I like Will Smith, too.”

I laughed. “So then what about you?”

“University City High, Temple Criminal Justice Program, Quantico. Then, like I say, worked undercover for twelve years. Now, The Babysitters Club.”

“Where do you live?”

“Villanova. I was raised by my grandmother and my Uncle Tig. He had a check-cashing agency at Gibbons and Masterman. I was there every day, working after school. My grandmother hated it. Said it wasn’t safe. She was right. He got held up four times. Never got hurt, luckily. That’s why I went into law enforcement. I saw what he went through.”

“I get that.”

“Still, I loved that job. I felt useful.”

“I felt the same way. It’s a different world in a family business.” I added, “Your own world.”

“You work for yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Dom fell silent a moment. “I don’t know what made me think of that job. I haven’t seen my uncle in too long.”

“It must be hard, away from home for months with us . . . applicants.”

“It’s the job.”

“What do your neighbors think you do? Do you say you’re in WITSEC?”

“No, I say I travel a lot, work in procurement. Nobody knows what that is, and it sounds too boring to ask about.”

I smiled. “Do you like it? WITSEC?”

“In this case, absolutely.” Dom brightened. “Your family’s nice, and you can’t beat the location. Normally I’m in a crappy motel with a sociopath.”

I burst into laughter.

“Only one problem.”

“What?”

“Can we pick up the pace, gramps?”





Chapter Fifteen



After the run, I climbed the stairs, excited to tell Lucinda I’d made progress getting protection for Mom and Melissa. I reached the second floor and checked on Ethan, not surprised to find Lucinda dozing with him. Moonie was curled at the foot of the bed. Lucinda opened her eyes and motioned me over.

I went to the bed and kissed her. “Want coffee?”

“No.” Lucinda brushed a strand of hair from her face. Moonie raised his head from his paws.

“How about breakfast? I’ll make eggs.”

“No, thanks. Where were you, so sweaty?”

“I went for a run with Dom.”

Lucinda lifted an eyebrow, and I translated disapproval, since my wife’s eyebrows contain our marital vocabulary.

“He asked.” I looked at Ethan, asleep in the Call of Duty T-shirt Allison had given him. “How’s he?”

“Okay.”

I started to sit down, but Moonie growled at me, which was strange. “Moonie, no.”