“You think so?”
“If not more.” The chief nodded. “Fenway Park is three hundred two feet from the plate to the right foul post. You know that. Now, you think we were hitting near twice that far when we were teens?”
“You want to say something, you can say it straight out, Bill,” Seward said. The stocky man stretched his back to reach the full height available to him.
“No reason to get upset, Hank,” the chief said, shaking his head. “I know the Lowells’ land was a good feed for your cows—”
“And my daddy’s and granddaddy’s cows.”
“—and with no claims on it, there was no harm in you using it, but it’s not yours to use now.”
“My cows can’t live all year just off just my acreage,” he said shrilly. “And in my book the Lowells have no rights to that land no more, not after they—”
The chief clamped a white-knuckled hand on the man’s shoulder, which brought him to a stop.
“It’s not your place to tell people around here what rights they do or do not have. Next time I come out here, I want to see this fence at the legal boundary or nowhere at all. You understand?”
Seward swallowed and nodded. His face had lost its flush.
“Now, you give my best to Bessy and the girls, you hear?” The chief leaned back, and the smile returned to his face. “My Mary was just saying that she should fix our June up with Martha and Meg. Do you think they’d go for that? Play tea party or jump rope some afternoon?”
“Yes, Chief, I’m sure they’d like that very much,” Seward said.
“Well, I’ll make sure she gives her a call, then. And tending this land is the Lord’s labor, but you don’t work yourself to nothing now, you hear, Hank?” The chief started to walk back to his cruiser.
“You know me, Bill,” Seward said.
“You take care, too, boys,” the chief said, waving to Ben and Ted.
“Thanks, Chief,” Ben said, then he turned to Hank Seward. “You know, I don’t mind at all if you use this land for your cows. We’re not using it for anything. You’re welcome to it for as long as we own it,” he said.
Seward’s darting eyes twitched and grew hard. He spoke soft and rough, so that the chief wouldn’t hear.
“Don’t need charity from the likes of you,” he said quickly, a faint mist of spit spraying from between his teeth. Then he turned on his heel and stalked back to his little house, where his daughters still watched silently from the stoop.
15
Caroline had made vanilla-bean French toast with strawberry compote for breakfast. This was a scaled-down version of an earlier meal in which each wedge of toast had been filled with sweetened cream cheese.
“Another?” Ben asked Ted, offering him a slice at the end of a fork.
Ted’s eyes narrowed and he leaned toward Ben. “Don’t need charity from the likes of you,” Ted snarled. Then he fell back in his chair, laughing. Ted had found yesterday’s exchange with Hank Seward to be the height of hilarity.
“More for me, then,” Ben said, shucking the slice onto his plate.
“I think I’m going to hit Walmart,” Caroline said. She helped herself to another spoonful of the compote. Ben was glad that her energy and appetite had returned. “I figure I’ll say hello to the priest when he gets here, then I’ll take off.”
“I can give you a ride, if you want,” Ted said. “Driving around in the McLaren is pretty fun. She really opens up on the interstate.”
“I think I need something with a little more trunk,” she said.
“I thought we just needed some diapers and milk,” Ben said.
“I may as well stock up since I’m trekking over there,” Caroline said. “I’m also going to pick up some paint samples from Home Depot. And there’s an info session there on installing window treatments. They’ve got a garden center, too, and I want to see what kind of an herb selection they have. Also, I saw some recipes in Saveur that I thought I’d make for tonight. Pork loin stuffed with sausage, scalloped sweet potatoes, and braised Brussels sprouts. Might have a nice, light beef consommé to start. And one of the baking blogs I follow has a recipe for a great-sounding lavender crème br?lée. So I need to pick up quite a bit.”
“That sounds”—Ted glanced at Ben—“involved.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Caroline said. She cleared her dishes and began rifling through the cabinets and making additions to her shopping list. “Entrées are important, but it’s the sides that really tie a meal together.” She headed for the pantry. “When’s the priest due?”
“Soon,” Ben said, checking the clock on the microwave. “You should get dressed,” he told Charlie.
“I am dressed,” Charlie said, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.
“I meant in something that you didn’t sleep in. And how did your feet get so dirty?” he asked. The boy’s feet dangled several inches above the floor, and their soles looked filthy.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said.
“I’m going with you to wash up. Right now. Let’s go.”
Charlie swung himself off his chair and started toward the stairs, dragging his black-soled feet.
“He looks like he escaped from a Dickens novel. Cee, when did he last take a bath? Do you remember?”
“Two nights ago?”
Ben also couldn’t remember exactly when he’d last given Charlie a bath. Between diving into the new book and dealing with Ted, he’d been distracted.
He headed up the stairs and ran a bath in Charlie’s bathroom.
“Charlie?” he called as he checked the water’s temperature. “Char—” He turned around and was startled by his naked son standing not six inches from him. “Jesus,” he said, “I didn’t know you were there.”
“Is it warm?”
“Feel it,” Ben said.