Free Fire - C. J. Box [111]
Joe looked over at Marybeth.
“I guess I know where you two will wind up,” she said.
“Not tonight,” Joe said.
“Good, since we have dinner reservations at seven.” She turned to Nate. “Reservations are for five, Nate.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” Nate asked.
“I guessed,” she said.
“Enough,” Joe cautioned.
From a distance, Sheridan whooped. “Got one!” Joe saw the trout flash on the end of her line in the setting sun, looking more metallic than alive, confirming once again that there were few things more beautiful in the natural world than a rainbow trout—or his daughter catching one.
26
Saturday night, the mammoth dining room was a quarter filled with the last visitors of the season and a few people passing through. Joe had made a deal with the chef to prepare the three trout Sheridan had caught after he cleaned them and brought them to the kitchen. Sheridan couldn’t stop smiling.
They had returned at dusk to find that their possessions had been moved, as arranged, to a larger cabin a quarter mile from the one they had in the morning. The girls thought it strange.
“It’s like we’re Saddam Hussein,” Sheridan said, “moving to a new house every night. Like we’re a mafia family or something.” She looked to Joe and Marybeth for an explanation.
“This cabin is bigger,” Marybeth said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “We wanted a little more room.”
Lucy nodded her assent, but Sheridan eyed Joe with suspicion.He looked back stoically.
In the dining room, Marybeth said, “This is our big night. Let’s all behave and just enjoy it.” It wasn’t necessary to point out that since Joe had lost his job there had been very few nights where they ate out, and when they did it had been fast food.
“This is elegant,” Lucy said, touching each piece of silver-ware(three forks!) and glassware at her place setting with the tips of her fingers. “I was born for this.”
She was, Joe agreed, while Marybeth and Sheridan laughed and rolled their eyes.
Nate watched the exchange the way he always did, with a combination of disbelief and sentimentality.
The main courses had just been served—pasta for Marybeth,steaks for Joe and Nate, the fresh-caught trout for Sheridanand Lucy—when Joe saw the young, casually dressed couple making their way through empty tables toward them. The couple carried white foam containers of leftovers. The woman looked vaguely familiar.
“I thought that was Lucy!” the woman said, grinning, steppingup to the table between Joe and Marybeth.
“Mrs. Hanson!” Lucy cried. She was both excited and embarrassed,the way children are when they see their teachers in surroundingsother than the classroom. “What are you doing here?”
“Josh and I are on our way to Bozeman to the recycling center,” Mrs. Hanson said. “We thought we’d stop for dinner on the way through. How are you, Lucy?”
“Great! We caught these fish we’re eating.”
Joe saw the shadow of judgment pass over Mrs. Hanson’s face but it didn’t dent her smile. He thought it telling that the teacher didn’t introduce herself to anyone else at the table and talked only to Lucy.
“We like to leave the fish in the stream,” Josh said, cheerily but with admonishment, “where they belong.”
“But it’s okay,” Mrs. Hanson said, “not everyone feels the same way about nature. We know Lucy’s dad is on the other end of that viewpoint.”
Joe started to argue when he felt Marybeth place her hand on his thigh and she shot him a “Calm down” look.
Nate leaned back in his chair, studying the Hansons with a Clint Eastwood-type grimace.
“You’d change your mind if you ate this,” Sheridan said to Lucy’s teacher. “It’s really good. I wish I could have another one. I wish I could catch and eat five more.”
“How are you, Mrs. Hanson?” Marybeth asked pleasantly, trying to move the conversation past Sheridan’s overt challenge.
To Joe’s annoyance, Mrs.