“You were right,” he said. “The hash was good.”
She beamed, her smile dazzling. “Do you want some more? I think the house can spare seconds.”
“No, thank you anyway.”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, that’s fine.” He glanced over one shoulder as if checking something, then looked back at her. “Can I ask you a question?”
Her mouth quirked at the corners. “That depends on the question.”
He glanced over his shoulder again. “Is that Robert Freemark sitting back there with those men?”
She followed his gaze, then nodded. “You know Old Bob?”
Ross levered himself off the stool with the help of his walking stick. “No, but I was a friend of his daughter.” The lie burned in his throat as he said it. “Will you hold my bill for a minute, Josie? I want to go say hello.”
He limped from the counter toward the table in back, steeling himself against what he must do. The men sitting around it were telling stories and laughing, eating doughnuts and pastries, and drinking coffee. It looked like they felt at home here, as if they came often. Bob Freemark had his back turned and didn’t see him until some of the others looked up at his approach. Then Old Bob looked around as well, his big, white head lifting, his piercing blue eyes fixing Ross with a thoughtful look.
“Are you Robert Freemark, sir?” John Ross asked him. The big man nodded. “I am.”
“My name is John Ross. We haven’t met before, but your daughter and I were friends.” The lie went down easier this time. “I just wanted to come over and say hello.”
Old Bob stared at him. The table went silent. “Caitlin?” the other man asked softly.
“Yes, sir, a long time ago, when we were both in college.’ I knew her then.” Ross kept his face expressionless.
Old Bob seemed to recover himself. “Sit down, Mr. Ross,” he urged, pulling over an empty chair from one of the adjoining tables. Ross seated himself gingerly, extending his leg away from the table so that he was facing Robert Freemark but not the others. The conversations at the table resumed, but Ross could tell that the other men were listening in on them nevertheless. “You knew Caitlin, you say?” Old Bob repeated. “In Ohio, sir, when we were both in college. She was at Oberlin, so was I, a year ahead. We met at a social function, a mixer. We dated on and off, but it was nothing serious. We were mostly just friends. She talked about you and Mrs. Freemark often. She told me quite a lot about you. When she left school, I never saw her again. I understand she was killed. I’m sorry.”
Old Bob nodded. “Almost fourteen years ago, Mr. Ross. It’s all in the past.”
He didn’t sound as if that were so, Ross thought. “I promised myself that if I was ever out this way, I would try to stop by and say hello to you and Mrs. Freemark. I thought a lot of Caitlin.”
The other man nodded, but didn’t look as if he quite understood. “How did you find us here hi Hopewell, Mr. Ross?”
“Please, sir, call me John.” He eased his bad leg to a new position. The men at the table were losing interest in what he had to say. A fourteen-year-old friendship with a dead girl was not important to them. “I knew where Caitlin was from,” he explained. “I took a chance that you and Mrs. Freemark were still living here. I asked about you at the hotel where I’m staying. Then I came here. Josie told me who you were.”
“Well,” Old Bob said softly. “Isn’t that something?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are you from, John?”
“New York City.” He lied again.
“Is that so? New York City? What brings you out this way?”
“I’m traveling through by bus to see friends in Seattle. I don’t have a schedule to keep to, so I took a small detour here. I suppose I decided it was time to keep my promise.”
He paused, as if considering something he had almost forgotten. “I understand that Caitlin has a daughter.”