“One time is a diagnosis.”
“Your mother’s been talking to you.”
“Your mother,” I said, “is sitting right here.”
He leaned forward between the seats and kissed my cheek.
“I know,” he said. “Believe me. I know.”
We checked into the Lakeview Inn at four o’clock. The same white Victorian building with the wraparound porch and the rocking chairs. The paint was a little more peeled. The steps creaked a little more. Everything else was the same.
The woman at the desk was young, maybe twenty-five. When Mark gave his name, she looked up at him and smiled the biggest smile.
“Mr. Ellison,” she said. “We’ve been looking forward to this all month. Room 12 is all ready for you.”
Mark held out his hand for the key. I watched his face. I watched him look down at the little white card with the green pine tree on it, the same one I’d found in his duffel bag.
