TILDA PUT the painting down in the basement and didn’t say anything else about the con, so Davy began to plan the show, enlisting everyone to scrape paint and wash windows, even Simon, who had plenty of energy to work off since Louise hadn’t shown up again. “Did you hear anything else about the Bureau looking around up here?” Davy asked him on Friday.

Simon shook his head. “But they definitely have somebody here.”

This family needs a keeper, Davy thought and went upstairs to shower. He came out of the bathroom, having washed off a lot of paint chips, and met Tilda.

“We’re watching The Lady Eve tonight for the hundredth time,” she said as she walked past him to the bathroom. “It’s Louise’s favorite movie. If you want to watch, too, you’d better call your sister now.”

“Right.” Davy watched the bathroom door close behind her, the FBI receding from his mind. A minute later the shower came on, and Davy thought about joining her. Then he thought about how much pain she could inflict on him and picked up the phone instead.

“Hey,” he said when Sophie answered. “What’s ne-”

“Where are you?” she exploded. “I can’t believe you talked to Dillie and didn’t-”

“ Columbus,” Davy said, moving the phone a little farther from his ear.

“-leave your num- Columbus? That’s two hours from here.”

“I know,” Davy said. “Stop shrieking at me, woman. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m having the week from hell,” Sophie snapped, “and the one person whom I would actually welcome seeing is two hours away and hasn’t even bothered to stop by. How long have you been there?”

“About a week,” Davy said, shaving some time off.

“A week?”

“Okay, you stop yelling now, or I’m hanging up. How’s life?”

Sophie groaned. “Don’t ask.”

“Okay, how’s Dempsey?”

“He’s teething,” Sophie said. “What are you doing in Columbus?”

“Nothing you want to know about. So what’s new with you?”

“I thought you were going straight,” Sophie said, caution making her voice soft again.

“I am,” Davy said. “For me, I’m practically a Boy Scout. So what’s making you nuts? Tell me everything.”

“Well,” Sophie said, mercifully distracted by her own problems. She talked on and Davy listened to the water running and thought about how round Tilda was, and how much fun she’d be covered in soap. Uncovered in soap.

“Are you listening?” Sophie said.

“Yes,” Davy lied.

Sophie went on and Davy went back to listening to Tilda and the water. Someday I’m going to be in there with her, he thought, and then realized he wasn’t. By the time someday got there, he’d be gone.

“Wait a minute,” Sophie said, and the water stopped, so Davy brought his mind back to the conversation. “Dillie says hi and she loves you.” Sophie dropped her voice. “She brought home this boy after school last week so he could help her with her softball swing-”

“Really?” Davy said, trying to sound innocent.

“-and the kid has been over here every night after school, so-”

Sophie talked on as Tilda came out of the bathroom, swathed in a bulky white robe, and pulled the towel from her hair, and Davy watched the little ringlets spring up around her face, shining damply in the lamplight.

“-and I can’t remember if Amy and I started doing boy-girl things at twelve. Did we?”

“I don’t think that matters,” Davy said. “The question is, do they do that now? Hold on a second.” He covered the receiver. “When did Nadine start bringing home boys?”

“Birth.” Tilda crawled up beside him on the bed. “She’s Gwennie’s granddaughter.”

“Right. You’re no help at all.” He uncovered the receiver. “Look, they’re playing softball. Let them alone.”

“Who’s there with you?” Sophie said. “Is it a woman? It’s a woman, isn’t it?”

“Is that your sister?” Tilda said.

“There’s a woman there,” Sophie said. “I can hear her.”

“My landlady.” Davy looked down the front of Tilda’s robe. “She’s asking for my rent. I have to go give it to her.”

“You wish,” Tilda said.

“Wait, don’t hang up, when are you coming down here?” Sophie said.

“Next Sunday,” Davy said, watching the curve of Tilda’s terry-cloth-covered rear as she rolled off the bed away from him. “I have some things to finish here first. But I will be there next Sunday. I swear. I have a present for you.”

“Forget the present, bring your landlady,” Sophie said.

“I don’t think so,” Davy said, as Tilda disappeared into the bathroom again. “She’s not a biddable female.”

“I like that in a woman,” Sophie said.

“So do I,” Davy said. “So do I.”

TILDA WENT downstairs the next morning to find Davy standing across the street from the gallery. He looked wonderful in the sunlight, big and dependable and… leaving. Why should I care? Tilda thought, and cared.

“Now what?” she said when he motioned her across the street.

“Gwennie’s been a little frosty to me lately,” he said. “What’s up with that?”

“She doesn’t want to attach in case Ford kills you,” Tilda said. “What are you doing out here?”

“She doesn’t want this show, does she?” Davy said.

Tilda sighed. “Not particularly.”

“Why? She hates the place, you’d think she’d be happy about-”

“She doesn’t hate the place,” Tilda said, surprised.

“-anything that would get her closer to freedom.”

“Hey, this is her home,” Tilda said.

“I think she wants to leave the nest,” Davy said.

“Is this the boat thing?”

“Boat thing?”

“Never mind. Gwennie will get over it. What are you doing out here?”

Davy squinted at the storefront. “Do you remember what colors the gallery used to be? The kids did a good job of scraping, but they didn’t uncover much original paint.”

“Blue,” Tilda said, squinting at the gallery front, too. “Sort of a midnight-blue trimmed with a red oxide. And the letters were gold, I think they were actually fake gold leaf.”

“Sounds expensive,” Davy said.

“It is,” Tilda said. “Although not like real gold leaf. It’s hard to put on, too.”

“Too bad,” Davy said. “Because we’re going to have to do it.”

“Can’t we do something new?” Tilda said. “I thought maybe black and white-”

“No,” Davy said. “Your dad had a reputation in this town and we’re building on it. We’re restoring, babe. Not to mention there’s already enough white in your life.”

“Funny,” Tilda said. “Listen, I really-” but he’d already started across the street.

He dragged her to a paint store and they bought gallons, a soft white for the interior -“It’s a gallery, Davy, it’s supposed to be white”- and a light blue and green Tilda talked him into -“We’re not selling what Dad would have, so we should be us”- and gold leaf for the letters, along with brushes and scrapers and another ladder. “Who’s paying for this?” Tilda said, and Davy said, “Simon, on loan. You can pay him back out of the till on opening night. Or you could have Louise stop by. That would cheer him up enormously.” When they got back to the gallery, Nadine was inside with Gwen, Ethan, and a new boy, this one dressed in a button-down shirt and immaculate khakis.

“This is Kyle,” Nadine said. “We met him working at his father’s furniture store in Easton.”

“Nice to meet you, Kyle,” Tilda said, a little taken aback when he shook her hand. Behind him, Gwen rolled her eyes and went back to her Double-Crostic.

“My pleasure,” Kyle said, every inch the gentleman. He turned back to Nadine. “I have to go to work, but I’ll call you later.” He kissed her on the cheek and nodded politely to Tilda and Davy. Ethan, he ignored.

“That kid is up to no good,” Davy said when he was gone.