"That's interesting history," the boy replied.

"Oh, well, interesting history," I agreed, passing a tip to Phillip, who doffed his ball cap and climbed back into the truck, dusting splinters and wood chips off his hands. I circled around to the truck's gate and crooked my finger at the boy until he crouched at the edge and regarded me with quick, sharp eyes.

"What's he like around you?" I asked. "Lucas, I mean."

"What do you mean, like?" the boy asked back.

"You know. Is he shy? He seems shy around most people."

"Nope, not really. Trick is not to care," the boy replied.

"Why would I care?"

The boy beamed. "Exactly. See you 'round, Mr. Dusk. Give you my invoice tomorrow!"

I stepped back to let the truck pull out into the alley, then went inside and out to the front to watch it pull away, the boy sprawled comfortably on a pile of tarps in the back.

The cafe was looking interestingly busy, and I hadn't really eaten dinner, so I closed up for an hour and ran across to get a bite to eat. Besides, I wanted to see if anyone else had heard the gossip about Lucas tutoring the boy.

Instead, when I stepped inside the bustling restaurant, I found Lucas himself. He was seated at the window table I usually claimed, studying a menu while the rest of the cafe studied him. He looked jumpy, and he was at my table, so I took a menu from the rack near the door and rested my hand on the chair across from him.

"Evening," I said, and he looked up. "Mind if I sit down? Room's a little scarce right now."

"Oh, well, no – I don't mind," he said, inching backwards as if his legs might be taking up too much room under the table. "Are you sure?"

"That I want dinner? Yes," I said, giving him a friendly smile. "I'm pretty sociable, but if you want me to leave I can."

"No, I don't mind. I'm not much of a conversationalist," he added.

"You don't have to be. I talk enough for both of us."

"Seems everyone here does," he murmured, bending back to his menu. "What do you talk about?"

"Oh, farm business and the weather, the Sunday sermon, whatever's been featured in the magazines this month. Patching leaky roofs," I said, and he smiled faintly.

"You eat alone, though, sometimes," he said. "I've seen you. With a book. And people come up to talk to you."

"Well, I've lived here for a while. And I own the only source of printed material for miles around."

Carmen was on that night, and she appeared at my elbow with two glasses of water. Around us, people were watching even more intently than they had been, and I felt a certain amount of pride in being the one to actually go and sit with Lucas.

"Know what you want yet?" Carmen asked, looking from me to Lucas and back again. "Dinner's on me, Christopher. Payback for Clara's book."

"Hope she likes it," I said, as Lucas practically hid behind the menu.

"She loves it. I think because she stole it."

"Better curb that young, or she'll be boosting cars before you know it."

"Ah, glory days," Carmen winked at me. "Takes after me."

"Then she'll do fine. Have you tried the soup, Lucas?" I asked. He flicked his eyes up.

"No, not yet."

"You should. I think I'll have that, Carmen."

"It's good tonight, split-pea with ham," she said. "And you?"

"Um," Lucas stammered. "Soup too please. Thank you. Thank you," he repeated, when she took his menu. She gave him a small smile, then gave me a what the hell? look and walked off.

"I always worry I won't like something when I come here, and the cook will notice and be offended," Lucas said. "I've seen him, I think he lives on the road I take into town."

"If it helps, he's used to people insulting his food, we all tease him about it," I said. "That's the price you pay for living in a little place like this. It's hard to be anonymous. Everyone learns what you like and dislike, after a while."

"I hadn't thought about that when I moved here."

"You came from the city," I said.

"Pretty obvious," he said.

"Yep. You're not one of the summer crowd, and you might've noticed that the faces don't change much around here."

"But you haven't lived here always, have you?"

"No. Three years."

"Why'd you move here?" he asked, then blushed. "If I can ask."

"I needed a break," I said, and sipped my water so I wouldn't have to talk further. He just watched me, a growing desperation in his eyes to fill the silence. I set my glass down.

"Listen, we don't have to talk," I said. "Ever eaten dinner with a farmer? Total silence. I'm used to it."