Jack looked at Kate.
Kate said, “Maureen, stop interrogating the poor guy.”
Maureen pointed at Jack with her fork. “What’re you doing back in Michigan?”
“Visiting my sister,” Jack said.
Maureen said, “What do you do?”
“Sell real estate,” Jack said.
“Maureen does, too,” Kate said. “Tell her about your deal.”
“It’s a manufactured home development in Tucson, Arizona,” Jack said.
“I know a lot of people in the Tucson area,” Maureen said. “Maybe I can send some investors your way. What’s it called?”
“Eldorado Estates,” Jack said. “I’ll give you a copy of the prospectus.”
“And you live in Tucson, I hear,” Maureen said. “What part?”
“Rancho Mirage,” Jack said.
“Where’s that?” Kate said.
“Foothills of the Catalinas,” Maureen said. “Very trendy.” She sipped her wine. “I go to Canyon Ranch every year,” she said, sounding like a snob. “I saw Michael Douglas one time and Richard Gere. I like it for about three days. They don’t serve drinks-you can’t get one-and there’s no nightlife.”
“That’s the idea,” Kate said. “You go there to get healthy.”
“I bring a bottle of Skyy,” Maureen said, “have a couple in my room before dinner and try to meet an eligible guy and bring him back for a nightcap.”
Luke sat with them, eating in silence, Jack asking him questions whenever Maureen stopped talking, which wasn’t often.
Jack said, “Luke, you a tennis player like your mom?”
“Uh-huh.”
Kate said, “He has a big forehand and a two-handed backhand. Hits deep heavy topspin and has a hundred-and-ten-mile-an-hour serve.” She looked across the table at Luke. “He’s taking some time off, aren’t you, honey?”
Luke didn’t react. He seemed uncomfortable. He ate fast and asked if he could be excused. Took his plate to the sink and walked out of the kitchen.
Maureen got up, too, said she had an early appointment, told Jack it was nice meeting him and Kate walked her to the door.
Then they were alone.
Jack cleared the table and Kate did the dishes. She was at the sink, her back to him, rinsing out the wineglasses when he came up behind her, put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.
She squirmed, wiggling out of his grasp, wet hands pushing him away. “Easy.”
“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at the mall.”
“Where’ve I heard that before?” She wondered how many times he’d used that line or a variation of it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack said.
“That’s what you said the morning after we met-at the boat races.”
“How do you remember that?”
“I thought it was a good line,” Kate said, “like it was out of a movie.”
She showed him the house. They walked through the living room to the sun porch. The backyard lights were on, illuminating the pool and tennis court. It was dark out, wind blowing, kicking up leaves.
Jack said, “That Maureen’s a trip.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“What’s her story?”
“How much time do you have?”
She showed him the paneled den, her favorite room and the reason she wanted to buy the house.
“This place is unbelievable,” Jack said.
“Not bad for a girl who grew up on Spam, huh?”
“Luke’s a nice kid,” Jack said. “I feel like I’ve met him before. He ever spend time in Tucson?”
“You’re not going to start talking about fate and kismet again, are you?”
He moved closer to her and she stepped away. “I’ve got something else I want to show you.” She took him to the billiard room, thinking it would be easier being with him if they had something to do.
Jack said, “Wow. Look at that.”
There was a 1922 Brunswick Arcade pool table in the center of the room. It was made out of mahogany with six massive legs and weighed 2,760 pounds.
Kate said, “You want to play?”
Jack said, “It’s been a while.”
Kate said, “Are you hustling me?”
There was a cue rack on the wall. He went over and picked out a stick. He chalked the tip and grinned at her. “If I win, you let me buy you dinner tomorrow night.”
She said, “What if I win?”
“You buy me dinner.”
They played straight pool. Jack racked the balls and broke with a thunderous blast that put a couple in. He lined up a straight two-footer and banged it in the corner pocket. He kissed the second one in the middle pocket. She could see a swagger in his step now as he moved around the table. He sank six before he missed.
“You’re not bad,” Kate said.
Jack glanced at her and said, “What do you hear from Marina? Wasn’t that the girl from Guatemala?”
“I get a Christmas card every year,” Kate said. “She lives in Jersey with her husband, Benigno, who now owns the landscape company he used to work for.”
Kate used the bridge and banked one into the corner pocket.
Jack said, “The American dream, huh?”
Kate was lining up her next shot. She glanced at Jack across the table. “You making fun of him?”
“No,” Jack said. “She ever tell him about the cop?”
“I hope not.” She drilled one into the side pocket.
“What was his name?”
“Emiliano Garza,” Kate said. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Still remember him, huh?”
Kate put her cue on the rail and leaned against the table. “I can still see his face staring at me. I used to wake up in the middle of the night, I’d swear I saw him standing at the end of my bed, grinning at me.”
“You never gave me the full story,” Jack said.
“I couldn’t talk about it at the time,” Kate said.
“How about now?”
She told him how she shot the two cops.
Jack didn’t say anything. He just stared at her.
“The scariest part,” Kate said, “was when we were on the bus, sitting there waiting to leave. Marina had the seat next to the window. She was grinning. We both were thinking we were getting away. Then a green Jeep pulled up next to the bus- Policia on the side. Captain Garza and two others got out.
“You should have seen the look on Marina’s face. She was scared to death. She turned to me and slid down in her seat. I reached into my bag and pulled out the Beretta and showed it to her. She said, ‘What are you going to do?’
“I said, ‘Whatever I have to.’ I was thinking that they must have found the dead cops, or maybe the Jeep?”
Jack said, “How’d they know you were on the bus?”
She picked up the cue stick and put the butt end on the floor and leaned it against the long side of the table. “Unless you had a car,” Kate said, “it was the only way out of town. I watched Captain Garza moving along the side of the bus, looking in the windows, smoking his cigar. He had an automatic in a black holster on his right hip. As he approached our window, we got up and offered our seats to an elderly Mayan couple Marina knew, the Olivares. Marina stood next to me in the crowded aisle, fighting for space as Garza’s men got on the bus, one entering from the front and the other from the rear, yelling and pushing their way down the aisle.
“When they got within ten feet, I drew the Beretta and cocked the hammer. I turned my back as one of the cops approached. I could feel my heart pounding. I was ready to turn and shoot him, but he passed by me.
“They weren’t looking for us. The cops grabbed a short thin Mayan who looked young, no more than twenty. They took him off the bus and tried to cuff his hands and he broke free and took off running across the dusty parking lot. People on the bus were cheering for him, hoping he’d get away.
“I watched Captain Garza draw the pistol from his holster, aim at the man, extending his arm and firing. The man staggered and fell forward in the dirt.
“I could see Garza standing by the Jeep as the bus pulled away. I released the hammer and dropped the Beretta back in my bag and put my arms around Marina. I remember the day; I’ll remember it forever-San Pedro, Guatemala, August 11, 1990.”