“An intelligent man creates choices. A stupid man lets others deal the hand for him.”
“You’re not going to hurt that woman, are you?”
“You must think pretty low of me.”
“Not true. But I got to have your word.”
“That’s what my mother used to say, right before she made me cut my own switch and skinned me into next week,” Jack said.
The front porch light was on when they parked in the yard of the gingerbread house and knocked on the screen door. “Just an advanced warning, Noie,” Jack said. “I think some lies are being told about me. So don’t necessarily believe everything this lady says.”
“What lies?”
“If people faced the truth about how governments work, there would be revolutions all over the earth. So they blame the misdeeds of the government on individuals. I happen to be one of those individuals. You never read Machiavelli up there at MIT?”
“¡Venga!” someone called from the kitchen.
“You heard her,” Jack said.
They went inside and sat on the couch. A heavyset Mexican woman with a wooden spoon in her hand and her hair tressed up in braids came into the living room. Jack’s Stetson was propped on his knee. He rose from the couch, his hat hooked on one finger. “Where’s Ms. Ling?” he said.
“She went to the store. She’ll be right back. I’m Isabel,” the woman said.
“Mind if we wait?” Jack asked.
“The people are coming. If you don’t mind them, they won’t mind you,” Isabel said.
“What people?”
“La gente. The people.”
“Yeah, I got that. But what people?”
“The people who always come. You can sit at the tables in back if you want. I already put Kool-Aid out there. You can help me carry out the food,” Isabel said.
“We don’t mind in the least,” Noie said. “Do we, Jack?”
Jack’s expression made Noie think of a large yellow squash someone had just twisted out of shape.
They carried out lidded pots of beans and fried hamburger meat and plates of hot tortillas smeared with margarine. They set them on the plank tables under the trees and helped light the candles affixed to the bottoms of jelly jars. In the distance, they could see the headlights of several vehicles headed up the dirt road toward them.
“You have a bunch of wets coming through here?” Jack said.
“No, no wets,” Isabel said, wagging a finger. “These are not wets, and ‘wets’ is not a term we use. You understand that, hombre?”
“When is the lady of the house due back?” he asked.
“Any time now. Sit down. We have plenty of food for everyone.”
“We’re not here to eat,” Jack said.
“You should. You look like a scarecrow,” Isabel said.
Jack stared at her back as she walked away.
“What are you thinking?” Noie asked.
“That woman has a figure like a garbage can with a pair of bowling pins under it.”