Now, though, it was too late to turn off his feelings for Eunice. Now that he was so used to her.

He put the tomatoes in the pot to simmer, and he added the empty bag to his grocery bag full of newspapers, which he carried out to the recycling bin. The sun had begun to sink and the air outside was cooler than inside, with a bit of a breeze stirring the pines above the walkway. He saw someone ahead of him carrying an empty cardboard box-a heavyset man in a Hawaiian shirt. “Why, hello there!” the man said, stopping to let him catch up.

“Hi,” Liam said.

“How’s it been going?”

“Uh, fine.”

“You don’t remember me, do you. Bob Hunstler? The folks who called 911?”

“Oh! Sorry,” Liam said. He shifted his bag to one side and shook hands.

“I guess you saw where they caught your guy,” Mr. Hunstler said.

“They did?”

“It was in last Saturday’s paper. Did you miss it? Guy right here in the complex.”

“In this complex?” Liam asked. He looked around him.

“Well, not actually living here. But his mother does. Mrs. Twill? In Building D? We know the woman, by sight at least. Just as nice as she can be. It’s not her fault she’s got a dead-beat son, now, is it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Liam said.

“They caught him over in B, making off with a sound system. Seems every time he came to visit his mom, he’d just nip by someone’s apartment on the way out and pick himself up a little something to take home.”

“Is that right,” Liam said. “I haven’t heard a thing from the police.”

“Well, maybe since the fellow in B caught him red-handed, they figure there’s no need to bring in any others.”

Mr. Hunstler resumed walking, swinging the cardboard box at his side, but Liam slowed to a stop. “Good seeing you,” he called.

“Oh, weren’t you headed to the bin?”

“I’m going to check for that paper.”

Mr. Hunstler raised his arm in half of a wave and plodded on.

Back in the apartment, Liam dumped his bag upside down in a chair. Saturday, August fifth. Aha. He found the police news listed in the Maryland section. Man Nabbed in County Burglaries; that would have to be it. A paragraph barely an inch and a half long, without a photo.

The arrest of Lamont Edward Twill, 24, is expected to bring to a halt a recent rash of break-ins in Baltimore County. Mr. Twill was tackled by a resident of the Windy Pines development, where he was seen loading stolen electronic equipment into his panel truck.

A search of his Lutherville lodgings revealed a number of items reported missing from homes in the Towson and Timonium areas over the past several months.

“Your tomatoes are popping,” Kitty said, coming into the room.

“Turn them down, then.”

“What are all these papers?”

He held the Maryland section out to her. “My burglar,” he told her.

“Really?”

She took the newspaper from him and read where he pointed. “Well, what do you know,” she said. Then she handed the paper back to him and wandered off toward the stove. “I thought you were going to wait for garlic before you started cooking these,” she called a moment later.

“I’ll add it when it comes.”

“It won’t do much good at that stage.”

Liam didn’t bother answering. He was reading the news item over again. He wished they’d included a photograph. Maybe some random detail would have struck a spark in his brain. Just a glimpse of a mustache, say, or a birthmark or a scar, and he would think, Wait! Haven’t I seen that somewhere before?

The familiar strain of trying to remember what wasn’t there brought him back to Eunice-the original Eunice; Eunice as he had first fantasized her when he’d imagined that she might rescue him.

And she had rescued him, really.

He refolded the newspaper and dropped it on top of the others.

It turned out that combining egg noodles with angel-hair pasta wasn’t such a good idea. Or at least, the two should have been cooked in separate pots. The noodles still showed some resistance in the middle, while the angel hair was overdone. Liam and Kitty plowed through theirs regardless, but Damian, Liam noticed, forked up each strand of angel hair one by one and left the noodles behind. Even though Liam’s policy was never to apologize for his cooking, he did say, “Maybe the noodles should have been given a few more minutes.”

“Naw, they’re great!” Damian told him.

Liam felt touched. So did Kitty, evidently, because she reached over and gave Damian a tender pat on the wrist.

Liam averted his eyes.

Damian was very interested in the news of the arrest. He thought Liam should go inventory the stolen goods. “You might find something there that you didn’t even know you were missing,” he said.

“In that case, why bother getting it back?” Liam asked him.

“Because six months from now you might suddenly think, Hey, didn’t I used to own a what’s-it? And then you’ll be sorry you didn’t go check when you had the chance.”

“Well, it’s not as if these things are sitting on public display somewhere,” Liam said.

He wished Xanthe could hear their conversation. She’d been so sure the intruder was Damian! He remembered how she’d flounced off in a huff when she found out Damian was visiting. She hadn’t been back since, in fact. But here Damian sat, blithely unaware that anyone would dream of suspecting him. He was proposing now that Liam attend the lineup.

“Lineup? What lineup?” Liam asked him. “Why would they have a lineup? You’ve been watching too much TV.”

“They ought to at least offer to let you meet the guy. Don’t you want to see who it was? Don’t you want to, like, confront him?”

“Oh, I’m not much of a one for confrontation,” Liam said. “I would be, maybe, if I thought it would bring my memory back-”

He stopped himself, because he knew everybody felt he was making too much of the memory issue. He said, “But as far as meeting him just to see who he is… well, what’s the point? It’s not as if he singled me out. This was like those accidents you read about in the paper: an overpass collapses and a man driving underneath is instantly killed. He stayed in his lane, obeyed the lights, checked his rearview mirror, observed the speed limit, and still he was killed. These things just happen.”

“That guy didn’t just happen to hit you on the head,” Damian said.

“Actually, he did just happen to, because I just happened to be there. No sense going up to him now and asking why.”

Damian knotted his brow, clearly baffled. He might have continued arguing, but just then the kitchen telephone rang. Liam stayed seated. Kitty said, “Want me to answer that?”

“Never mind,” Liam said.

“That’s okay, I’m finished.” She stood up and went to lift the receiver. “Hello?” she said. “Hi. Sure, just a sec. It’s Eunice, Dad.”

“I’m eating,” Liam told her. And to prove it, he reached for the tomato sauce and ladled a spoonful onto his empty plate.

After a pause, Kitty said, “Eunice? Can he call you back later? Okay. Bye.”

She returned to the table and sat down. Neither she nor Damian spoke.

“I think you were right about the garlic,” Liam said. “I should have added it at the start. I can’t even taste that it’s there.”

He picked up the Parmesan cheese and sprinkled it on his sauce. Out of nowhere, a memory came to him of a spaghetti dinner he’d eaten with Eunice the week before, in a dingy little café in the mall across the street. The waitress had started out by introducing herself. “Hi,” she’d said. “I’m Debbie, and I’ll be your server tonight.” It was a practice that always made Liam roll his eyes, but Eunice seemed quite taken with it. All during their supper she had happily employed the woman’s name. “Debbie, could we have more bread?” and, “That was delicious, Debbie.” At the time, Liam had felt a bit irritated with her. Now, though, it struck him as funny. An actual bubble of laughter escaped him, and he ducked his head lower to hide it and busied himself with his meal.