In the Shadows

fine dusting of the sweet crystals clung to her vast bosom, which,

owing to her short and round stature, rested on the table in front

of her.

She had cooed at him, tsking softly at his pallid complexion.

Illness made people either avoid him or pamper him, and she was

in the latter category. It could come in handy, now that he’d lost

his most malleable nurses.

A honeymooning couple, who fell firmly in the avoid-

acknowledging-the-sick-boy category, were remarking on the

quality of the day and planning a bicycle ride to the lighthouse.

There was another young man probably around Thom’s

age. He clung to the edges, slipping in after introductions,

face neither angry nor pleasant. Everything about him begged

to be ignored in the most polite sort of way. He looked to be no

fun at all.

There was also a man with a full mustache. He was tall, shoul-

ders several inches above the curved wooden back of his chair,

filling out the lines of his finely tailored suit. Something in the

line of his mouth spoke of age to Charles, the gradual, wearing

weight of time. Forty? No, the man’s skin was free of wrinkles and

his hair was a slick, glossy brown, save a streak of gray. Was there

a polite way of asking what his age was? It would bother Charles,

not knowing. He liked to categorize things, filter and sort and

understand and —

A girl of sixteen or seventeen swept into the room, picture-pretty

and efficiently elegant, and Charles no longer cared a whit about

the man. He leaned back, letting a smile play over his mouth in

anticipation. Girls were problems to be solved, and he was very

good at solving problems.

“Thank you, Cora,” Mrs. Humphrey said. Cora! He liked the