"No coffee. It's hot chocolate or soda." Dance supposed that Wes didn't want something that the FBI agent paid for. What was going on here? Then she remembered how his eyes had scanned Kellogg on the Deck the other night. She thought he'd been looking for his weapon; now she understood he'd been sizing up the man Mom had brought to his grandfather's party. Was Winston Kellogg the new Brian, in his eyes?
"Okay," her daughter said, "chocolate."
Wes muttered, "That's okay. I don't want anything."
"Come on, I'll loan it to your mom," Kellogg said, dispensing the coins.
The children took them, Wes reluctantly and only after his sister did.
"Thanks," Wes said.
"Thank you very much," Maggie offered.
Edie poured coffee. They sat at the unsteady table. Kellogg thanked Dance's mother again for the dinner the previous night and asked about Stuart. Then he turned to the children and wondered aloud if they liked to fish.
Maggie said sort of. She didn't.
Wes loved to but responded, "Not really. You know, it's boring."
Dance knew the agent had no motive but breaking the ice, his question probably inspired by his conversation with her father at the party about fishing in Monterey Bay. She noted some stress reactions--he was trying too hard to make a good impression, she guessed.
Wes fell silent and sipped his chocolate while Maggie inundated the adults with the morning's events at music camp, including a rerun, in detail, of the trash can caper.
The agent found herself irritated that the problem with Wes had reared its head yet again . . . and for no good reason. She wasn't even dating Kellogg.
But Dance knew the tricks of parenting and in a few minutes had Wes talking enthusiastically about his tennis match that morning. Kellogg's posture changed once or twice and the body language told Dance that he too was a tennis player and wanted to contribute. But he'd caught on that Wes was ambivalent about him and he smiled as he listened, but didn't add anything.
Finally Dance told them she needed to get back to work, she'd walk them out. Kellogg told her he was going to check in with the San Francisco field office.
"Good seeing you all." He waved.
Edie and Maggie said good-bye to him. After a moment Wes did too--only so he wouldn't be outdone by his sister, Dance sensed.
The agent wandered off up the hallway toward his temporary office.
"Are you coming to Grandma's for dinner?" Maggie asked.
"I'm going to try, Mags." Never promise if there's a chance you can't deliver.
"But if she can't," Edie said, "what're you in the mood for?"
"Pizza," Maggie said fast. "With garlic bread. And mint chocolate chip for dessert."
"And I want a pair of Ferragamos," Dance said.
"What're those?"
"Shoes. But what we want and what we get are sometimes two different things."
Her mother put another offer on the table. "How's a big salad? With blackened shrimp?"
"Sure."
Wes said, "That'll be great." The children were infinitely polite with their grandparents.
"But I think garlic bread can be arranged," Edie added, which finally pried a smile from him.
*