Lucky recognized Delbert Dibbs the moment she saw him through the inside window. She was surprised to find him working here, or anywhere, really. A couple of years older than she was, he had a mental disability that had always come between him and a normal life. He used to ramble aimlessly around town, as shabby and lean as a stray cat.
He looked greasy now, but happy as he hurried to the door, a huge rottweiler at his heels. “Bruiser and I like to watch the front. We can even baby-sit Troy for you, if you want. We’d never let anything happen to Troy, would we, boy?” he said to the dog.
The dog showed his agreement by wagging his tail and letting his tongue loll.
Troy clapped his hands and reached for Delbert. “D’bert! Hi, D’bert, hi!”
Delbert frowned at his blackened hands. “Sorry, Troy. I’m too dirty to hold you right now, but we’ll play blocks tonight, okay?”
“I’m taking Troy with me,” Booker said as Troy changed his focus to the dog.
“Dog!” he said, his eyes going round as he pointed.
Booker squatted so Troy could pet Bruiser while he continued to speak to Delbert. “Just check the front every once in a while to see if anyone’s waiting.”
Delbert seemed to notice Lucky, standing behind Booker and holding the phone, for the first time. “Hey, do I know you?”
Lucky smiled, and since she hadn’t dialed yet, pressed the disconnect button. “I used to live here a long time ago. It’s good to see you again, Delbert. You seem to be doing well.”
“I work for Booker,” he said proudly. “I change oil and fan belts and…and tires.” His grin revealed the same crooked teeth as before, but everything else about his situation seemed greatly improved.
“What a nice job to have.”
“Yeah. This is my dog, Bruiser. He’s big but don’t worry, he’d never hurt you.”
The dog laid his ears back and whined a quick hello, as if he knew he’d just been introduced.
“He’s a handsome animal.”
“He’s the best dog in the world,” Delbert said, positively beaming.
“I’ll bet he is.”
“Did Booker tell you about the new baby?”
Lucky looked to Booker, who was busy stuffing toys in his son’s diaper bag.
“My wife and I are expecting another child,” he explained.
“She’s sick ’cause of the baby,” Delbert chimed in, “but the baby will be here in twenty-eight weeks and three days. Then she’ll be fine again.”
“Twenty-eight weeks and three days?” Lucky echoed.
“That’s when the baby’s due,” Booker said. “Whether or not she’ll actually arrive on time is anybody’s guess.”
“She?”
He grinned. “They’re pretty sure it’s a girl.” Taking the diaper bag, he started moving into the garage. “I’m going to go over a few things I want Delbert to do while we’re gone. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Okay.” She waved goodbye to Delbert and his dog before calling the power company. Customer Service came on the line right away, but the first woman she spoke to transferred her to a man who transferred her to another woman, and no one could tell her when she’d have service.
“I’d appreciate it if you could see to it as soon as possible,” she told the last woman and hung up with a sigh.
FINLEY’S HADN’T CHANGED much in six years. The small, family-owned grocery now had a tiny health food section, in which Lucky found the almond milk she liked on her cold cereal, and an expanded deli. But everything felt, looked, even smelled, the same. A table near the front doors held the usual seasonal display of cheap Christmas dishes that could be purchased with coupons. The same dime-store-quality chocolates and stocking stuffers filled the shelves near the greeting cards. And, unfortunately, Marge Finley still worked the register. Marge had never been too friendly to Lucky. She was one of those who’d chosen between Morris’s first family and his second, and had never hesitated to make her loyalties known.
Booker remembered he needed teething gel. He took Troy and strode off toward the baby aisle just as Lucky got in line to pay for her groceries. She could feel Marge’s eyes repeatedly dart her way. But every time Lucky tried to challenge the other woman’s gaze, Marge focused on her current customer.
When Lucky set her groceries and other supplies on the conveyor belt, Marge instantly threw the switch that stopped it from moving and left the register without a word. Lucky didn’t know what was going on until she saw Marge picking up a few boxes of cold cereal that had fallen into the aisle. At that point, she suspected Marge was trying to send the message that she wasn’t a priority.
Finally Booker came around the corner. “Where’s Marge?”
Lucky jerked her head toward the cashier, who was now rearranging cereal boxes on the shelf.
“Does she know we’re ready to go?”
“Probably not,” Lucky said because she didn’t want to explain that Marge had purposely kept her waiting.
“Hey, Marge! I think we’re all set here,” he called.
“Right. Coming, Booker.” She pushed to her feet—no easy task with the weight she’d gained since Lucky had been away—and squished over, moving from side to side because her legs were so big she could no longer walk straight. “How’s Katie?” she asked.
“Better, I think,” he said. “I called her before I left the shop. She told me she managed a nap this morning.”
“Crackers, that’s the only thing that helps with morning sickness,” Marge responded.
“I’m going to get her some of that homemade soup she likes from the diner as soon as I give Lucky a ride home.”
Marge’s lips pursed at the mention of Lucky’s name, but she made no comment.
Lucky stood taller and withdrew her debit card. Eavesdropping on Marge’s conversation with Booker as they went on to discuss Troy and the new words he’d recently added to his vocabulary, and what they each had planned for Christmas, made Lucky feel terribly out of place. No wonder she preferred strange towns and new cities—being anonymous was better than being shut out.
She paid for her groceries. After Booker paid for his, they put their bags into one cart and were just heading outside when a tall, dark-haired man with graying temples brushed past them on his way in.
“Morning, Booker,” he said.