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"Rufus, just give me—"

"You were told not to speak. In short, you aren’t what I’m looking for, Horace. Few are. I saw your heart in your words, and it’s a broken, desperate organ, for which I have no use."

"Pop," Luther says, "why don’t we just let him burn one of the girls?"

Rufus turns and smiles at his son. He lifts his hand, scratches his nose, and backhands Luther across the face.

Vi giggles.

Andy licks peas, one by one, off his plate.

Beth snores.

Maxine shakes her head.

Horace weeps.

Luther glares.

"You go on and take him downstairs, son. I don’t care what you do with him. I might be down later. Better say goodbye to your idol, Horace."

Crying hard now, Horace glares at Andy and his peas.

"You misjudge your former hero," Rufus says. "I knew his brother. That’s the stock I’m looking for. That’s a lion who wishes to God he were a kitty. Leave your pathetic book on the table. I want it for my collection. Merry Christmas."

Luther rises, discards his Santa hat, and pushes his long black hair behind his shoulders.

Horace begins to beg.

Maxine pinches his cheeks as Luther slides Horace’s chair back from the table.

"You give a shit about this chair, Mama?" Luther asks.

"No, why?"

Luther drags the chair to the edge of the staircase and kicks it down.

Bones crack. Screaming ensues.

Maxine tilts her head back and laughs long and low.

"Thanks for dinner, Mama," Luther says.

Then he kisses her cheek and heads down the steps toward the whimpering boy.

"I tell you Andy…Andy, quit it with the peas already."

Andy looks up and grins at Rufus. His long hair and beard have been trimmed haphazardly, both now streaked with gray.

"You really let that boy down. You know, he followed you all the way out here from Canada. In the Vancouver airport, he overheard you calling for information on ferries to Ocracoke. Showed up at my front door the night before Miss King came knocking. I mean if it hadn’t been for him, you might have pulled one over on us. You used to be that boy’s hero until he read your manuscript. If he’d had it his way, you’d be dead right now. You don’t know how much he begged me to let him set you ablaze."

A series of clunks is followed by a scream as Horace and his chair descend another flight of steps.

Maxine giggles. "That Luther—he’s so funny."

"That boy thought you were the biggest fraud he’d ever seen. Called you a gentle spirit in his treatise."

"Oh, no," Andy says. "I’m very mean. I killed a guy once in the desert. Put a hole—BANG!—right through his head. And I shot your son! Ha! Ha! Did you know that? I tried to kill Luther, but he didn’t die."

Rufus smiles. "You’re a hoot, Andy."

"I’m a hoot, too," Vi says. "Hoot. Hoot."

"Yes, you are. You know a strapping young man named Max dropped by about a week ago."

Vi takes a sip of sweet tea, gurgles it, and spits it back out onto her plate.

"He came with your former sergeant, Barry something. A big bear of a man. Apparently, the whole police community of North Carolina is searching for you, young lady. They think Andrew Thomas, the Heart Surgeon," Rufus winks at Andy, "kidnapped you and buried you somewhere on Portsmouth."

"That is a riot!" Vi exclaims. "I’m right here!"

"Your husband looked absolutely heartbroken. He sat down in the living room, in the very chair you parked your caboose in when you stopped by in early November. He misses you terribly."

"He’ll get over it."

Beth wakes up suddenly from her nap, yams clinging to the side of her face.

"Feel rested, Miss Lancing?" Rufus asks.

"Lancing?" Andy says. "I knew a Lancing once. I killed a Lancing once. BANG!"

Andy slams his fist down on the table. Maxine chuckles.

"We were sitting in a car together. Then BANG! Blood everywhere."

Beth looks at Andy. She grabs the back of his neck, pulls him in close, and plants a sloppy kiss across his mouth.

"Hey, I knew your husband," Andy says. "What was his name?"

"Walter," Beth says dreamily.

"You know, he was an all right kind of guy."

Beth giggles. "He’s dead now."

"Oh,