Her hand trembled as she wiped her cheek, smearing her black eyeliner. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer, Ricket Boy," she said.

Jimmy apparently understood that was his cue to return to the basement. About halfway down the steps he turned and said, "I did always like the boob job, though."

Joe had no idea that entertaining kids was so exhausting. As if he didn't admire her enough, he held Charlotte in even higher esteem after several hours on the job.

There were a total of seven of them-six fifth-grade boys and Hank, clearly the odd man out. The little girl fascinated him, not just because of her athletic prowess and blunt commentary, but because of how affectionate she was.

More than once that day, Joe felt a small stab in his chest he recognized as sadness for the girl. Hank obviously missed her father. He could tell by the way she followed him around and chattered nonstop, then hung on any response he might have.

It was a little embarrassing and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He didn't want to get her hopes up, but he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings by being too brusque. He decided he'd be friendly and hope for the best.

The truth was that the world of children was an alien land to Joe. He had no nieces or nephews, and Daniel Simmons was the only kid he ever really had much contact with, and Daniel had been downright reserved in comparison to the in-your-face Hank and the gleefully cynical Matt.

At the moment, the group was involved in a chaotic game of pickle in the backyard, Charlotte and he manning the makeshift bases, tossing the baseball back and forth as the kids took turns trying not to get tagged out. When kids got caught in a pickle, they would invariably laugh so hard that they'd fall down in the grass, grab their bellies, arid roll around as the tears trickled down their faces. Joe figured the hilarity must be contagious, because he'd been laughing right along with them.

He and Charlotte were a good team, and there had been many times when he'd catch her eye and know intuitively what her strategy was, whether the next motion of her arm would be a fake-out. He wished the game would go on forever. It gave him an excuse to have constant eye contact with her, in a way he hoped she found nonthreat-ening. It gave him an excuse to join her in every smile, every burst of laughter.

It was another way they could communicate without words. Kind of like sex, but not near as much fun.

And Joe found himself wondering if this was what Steve once had. If so, he could see why his partner had been happy-for as long as it lasted, anyway.

"Soup's on, campers!"

The boys ran hard for the back patio, where Ned and Bonnie had been setting two tables for the crowd, but Hank stayed behind. As Charlotte gathered up the old seat cushions that had served as bases, the little girl sidled up to Joe.

She grabbed his right hand and squeezed it hard.

Joe froze. He had no earthly idea what to do. So he just stood still until Hank started tugging and led him up the slope of the lawn.

"I like you, Joe," she said.

"I like you too, champ."

"Infinity much."

"Uh, thanks."

Charlotte arrived at his other side and offered to take the baseball mitt still stuck on his left hand. "I'll go put this stuff away in the shed and meet you in a minute."

Joe relinquished the mitt and walked hand-in-hand with Hank.

"That was my dad's glove," she said.

"I kind of figured that."

"You don't play much ball, do you?"

He laughed. It was true that his arm was a bit rusty. "I managed to throw you out a few times, as I recall."

She offered him that patchwork grin, and he noticed for the first time how strange her newer teeth looked this close up, all corrugated at the edges. He didn't know if that was normal. He suddenly couldn't remember why the hell he thought it was a good idea to hang out with the Taskers.

Then he saw Charlotte glance over her shoulder and smile as she walked to the shed, and it all came back to him. He squeezed Hank's hand in response.

The actual dinner struck Joe as a combination of theater of the absurd and a three-ring circus. The six boys were relegated to a picnic table under a tree while the adults and Hank sat at the wrought-iron patio table.

Joe was amused by the boys' conversation, which centered on bodily functions, how much they hated females, and which boy could perform any number of physical feats better than the others present. It reminded him of a typical staff meeting at the Albuquerque field office,

At their table, Charlotte regaled them with the healh hazards of trans-fatty acids found in commercial baked goods and the bovine growth hormones found in meat and dairy products.

Ned patted his round belly and said, "A little bovine growth hormone never hurt anyone. Look what it's done for me."

In the half hour it took to eat, Bonnie, Ned, and Charlotte got up and down from their own meals a dozen times to replenish plates and do everything from clean up spilled juice to put baking soda on a bee sting.

Hank never budged from his side. At one point she refilled his iced tea and looked up at him with huge blue eyes full of adoration.

She pulled on his shirtsleeve. "Wanna come to my ballet recital in two weeks? I get to wear a tutu and everything."

Joe felt his eyes widen. "Hey, sure. I'd like that."

"Ever had that hummus Stuff?" Hank said it in a whisper, nodding toward the barely touched dip at the center of the table.

"Mighty tasty." Joe scooped a wedge of toasted pita bread into the beige substance and took a big bite. "I think my mom made something like this when I was growing up."

Hank's mouth hung open. "For real?" She reached for a triangle of pita and held it over the bowl, a dubious expression on her face. "You didn't puke or anything?"

Joe laughed. "Not once."

After a moment spent steeling herself, Hank scooped the bread through the air and popped it into her mouth, plain. "I'd have puked, for sure," she mumbled, then once more bared those weird-looking kid teeth in that big smile ofhers.

Then she said, "Wanna see my tutu?"

After the campfire tale spun by Ned and Joe, it took Charlotte nearly an hour to get the boys settled down. Everyone agreed it was a real treat to have a professional storyteller like Joe contributing to scary-story time, but Charlotte was relieved that in the end Sasquatch only wanted to eat s'mores and not little boys.

Otherwise, she'd never get them to go to sleep.

Ned and Bonnie had just headed home. And Joe was drinking his iced tea on the patio keeping an eye on the tent while Charlotte put Hank to bed.

She tucked the sheet around Hank's body and kissed her sweaty forehead.

"I had fun tonight, Mama."

"Me, too."

"Can Joe come up and tuck me in next?"

She tried not to react too much to that question, though it concerned her. "I'll just tell him you said good night."

"I already said good night to him. Three times. He hugged me. He gives real good hugs."

"That was nice of him."

"I think he was stable tonight, Mama, don't you?"

Charlotte smiled down at her little matchmaker, her heart breaking. She'd seen Hank stare at Joe today, seeking out his attention whenever she could, sitting next to him, holding his hand. And Joe had been kind. But Charlotte knew that she needed to nip this puppy love in the bud. For Hank's sake.

"You know, sweetie, Joe probably won't live in Minton forever. He'll move one day."

Hank shook her head, her curls tumbling on the pillowcase. "Nope, Mama. I think he's gonna stay. He likes it here."