"But then," Eula said, "there's always some child visiting out in the parlor.

"Though my nieces don't come. Never bring their children. Only came here twice, both times to find out what's in my will." She glowered at Dillon. "Well I never told them. None of their business."

"I bet you and Mrs. Mae Rose are good friends, too," Dillon persisted. Joe had to smile. The kid wasn't subtle. Someone ought to have a talk with her; she wasn't going to get anywhere in life without a little guile.

She leaned closer to Eula. "I bet you and Mrs. Rose watch TV together." Joe had no idea what she was after, no notion where she was headed with this interrogation, but she meant to hang in there.

"No TV," Eula grumbled. "All Mae does is play with her dolls." She scowled deeply at Dillon. "You have as many questions as my old mother. Dead now. Dead a hundred years." She cackled wickedly.

"I didn't mean to be nosy," Dillon said, "but I bet you know everyone, though. Everyone here at Casa Capri. I bet you know if they lived in the village, and all about them."

Eula shut her mouth, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. Dillon sank into a quiet little funk, realizing she had pushed too hard. But then soon she rose, leaning to stroke Joe. "Would you hold him a little while longer? Don't let him get away? While I go to the rest room?"

The old woman snorted, but she took such a good grip on the nape of Joe's neck that he had a sudden flash of her reaching with both hands and squeezing; her fingers were as strong as a man's. "I won't be long," Dillon said, and she was gone down the hall toward the entry. Joe stared after her wondering what she was up to. Maybe the kid was going to skip-beat it out the front door.

"That's not…" Eula called after her, but Dillon was gone.

Joe could see the rest room in the opposite direction, a door clearly marked, just outside the dining room. He listened for the front door to open, but he heard nothing. Where was the kid headed, acting so secretive?

12

"That cat killed an entire litter of newborn pigs," Eula Weems said. "Biggest cat on the farm. So mean even the sow couldn't run it off.

"And after it killed those pigs it kind of went crazy. From that day, it just wanted to bite your bare toes. You couldn't go barefoot all summer, had to wear shoes. Terrible uncomfortable and hot." Eula stared accusingly down at Joe, where he crouched rigid in her lap, glowering at him as if the dead pigs were his fault.

Mae Rose said, "If they won't let us see Jane or Darlene or Mary Nell, then I say they aren't here. Not in Nursing, not anywhere in Casa Capri."

"Maybe in the county home," Eula said helpfully. "Maybe they couldn't pay. County home is free. When that cat got run over by the milk wagon everyone celebrated. It sure did feel good to go barefoot again. Took a month, though, for my feet to harden up on them tar roads. Burn your feet right off you."

Mae Rose pawed through the contents of one of the hanging pockets attached to her wheelchair until she found a handkerchief. She blew her nose delicately. Joe watched the arch where Dillon had disappeared, listening for the front door to open and close, convinced the kid was going to leave. He'd like to beat it, too. Mae Rose blew her nose again and wiped her eyes, then wadded up the handkerchief. "Maybe they're dead."

Eula Weems snorted. "How can they be dead? You know Darlene Brown was in the hospital with cataracts, and you saw her yourself when her cousin came. Right there in that corner room with the dark glasses. You're not making sense, Mae. And you know James Luther's trust officer was over there all one afternoon with him talking and signing papers."

"That's what they told us." Mae Rose glanced across the room toward the open double doors, where a nurse had appeared.

The white-uniformed woman propelled Dillon along before her, clutching the child's arm. Dillon balked and twisted, trying to pull away, her thin face splotched with anger.

"I was only looking for the rest room," the child argued, "I don't see…"

"The rest room is there, beside the dining room, not a block down the hall in the private wing. That area of the building is reserved for the very sickest patients, and they must not be disturbed."

"But-"

"You'll remain here in the social room as you were told, or you cannot come back to Casa Capri. You will not disturb the residents." The thin woman dropped Dillon's arm, stood staring down at her as if to make her point, then turned away. Dillon's face was red, her scowl fierce.

Across the room a man in a wheelchair watched the little exchange with interest, and as Dillon sat down on the couch across from Eula, he headed in their direction.

Though he was wheelchair-bound, he seemed too young to be living here among the elderly. Joe thought he couldn't be out of his late twenties-though Joe admitted he was no authority on human age. The man's smooth, white face was lean, his blue eyes friendly, but his body was puffy from inactivity. The roll of fat around his middle, beneath his white cotton shirt, looked like a soft white inner tube. Wheeling his chair toward them, he swerved around couches and chairs with a flashy disregard for the occupants. Coming to rest beside Mae Rose, he gave his" chair a final twist like a young man spinning his sports car, and parked beside her chair. He looked Dillon over with curiosity, winked conspiratorially at Eula, then leaned toward Mae, looking hard at the tabby cat in her lap. Dulcie looked back at him warily.

"What's that, Ms. Rose, a fur neckpiece? Did someone drop a moth-eaten fur piece in your lap?"

Eula Weems giggled.

Mae Rose's painted cheeks flamed brighter, and she petted Dulcie with quick, nervous strokes. Dulcie didn't move; she lay stretched out across the pink afghan coolly regarding the young man, and definitely not looking moth-eaten-her dark stripes gleamed like silk. She was very still, and nothing about her seemed to change except that her green eyes had widened; only Joe saw her stiffen imperceptibly, as if to strike.

Eula smiled coquettishly, stroking Joe. "Look, Teddy. I have an old fur piece, too."

Teddy laughed. "Or is that one of those moldering gray union suits you tell about on the farm, that your mama sewed you into?"

Eula favored him with a girlish guffaw.

Teddy said, "Mae, you're hugging that cat like it was a baby. Or like one of your little dolls."

"Leave me alone, Teddy. I shouldn't wonder if it was you that drove Jane Hubble away."

The young man's eyes filled with amazement. His smile was sunny and very kind; he looked as if Mae Rose could not help her aberrations.

But Dillon, watching them, was suddenly all attention. Gripped by some inner storm, Dillon raised her eyes in a quick, flickering glance at Mae Rose and the pale young man; then she looked down again.

Eula said, "Everyone knows Jane Hubble's right over there in Nursing." She looked to Teddy expectantly.

"Of course she is," Teddy said kindly. "They can't let us visit them, Mae. It's too hard on sick people to have us underfoot going in and out, getting in the way. Of course she's there. Where else would she be? Ask Adelina." He put his arm around Mae. "I know you miss her. Maybe when she's better, something can be arranged."

Dillon had turned away, seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. She was all fidgets, moving restlessly, and when she settled on the arm of Eula's chair and leaned down to pet Joe, her fingers were rigid, tense; she was filled with hidden excitement-or apprehension.

"She could send word," Mae said. "The nurses could at least bring a message."

"She's too sick," Eula said. "So sick she has tubes in her arms. They wanted to send me over there with the blood pressure, but I wouldn't have it. I won't have all those tubes stuck in me."