“There might not have been as much as he thought,” she said, hoping that the cynicism she felt hadn’t rubbed through into her voice. “Anyway, that’s what I think he did, and that’s why he didn’t answer the phone yesterday or today. Drink your milk, Brett. It builds up your bones.”
He drank half his milk and grew an old man’s mustache. He set the glass down. “Maybe he did. He could have got Gary to go with him, maybe. He likes Gary a lot.”
“Yes, maybe he did get Gary to go with him,” Charity said.
She spoke as if this idea had never occurred to her, but in fact she had called Gary’s house this morning while Brett had been out in the back yard, playing with Jim Junior. There had been no answer. She hadn’t a doubt in the world that they were together, wherever they were. “You haven’t eaten much of that Danish.”
He picked it up, took a token bite, and put it down again. “Mom, I think Cujo was sick. He looked sick when I saw him yesterday morning. Honest to God.”
“Brett—”
“He did, Mom. You didn’t see him. He looked . . . well, gross.”
“If you knew Cujo was all right, would it set your mind at rest?”
Brett nodded.
“Then we’ll call Alva Thornton down on the Maple Sugar tonight,” she said. “Have him go up and check, okay? My guess is your father already called him and asked him to feed Cujo while he’s gone.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yes, I do.” Alva or someone like Alva; not really Joe’s friends, because to the best of her knowledge Gary was the only real friend Joe had, but men who would do a favor for a favor in return at some future time.
Brett’s expression cleared magically. Once again the grownup had produced the right answer, like a rabbit from a hat. Instead of cheering her, it turned her momentarily glum. What was she going to tell him if she called Alva and he said he hadn’t seen Joe since mud season? Well, she would cross that bridge if she came to it, but she continued to believe that Joe wouldn’t have just left Cujo to shift for himself. It wasn’t like him.
“Want to go find your aunt now?”
“Sure. Just lemme finish this.”
She watched, half amused and half appalled, as he gobbled the rest of the Danish in three great bites and chased it with the rest of the milk. Then he pushed his chair back.
Charity paid the check and they went out to the down escalator.
“Jeez, this sure is a big store,” Brett said wonderingly. “It’s a big city, isn’t it, Mom?”
“New York makes this look like Castle Rock,” she said. “And don’t say jeez, Brett, it’s the same as swearing.”
“Okay.” He held the moving railing, looking around. To the right of them was a maze of twittering chirruping parakeets. To the left was the housewares department, with chrome glittering everywhere and a dishwasher that had a front made entirely of glass so you could check out its sudsing action. He looked up at his mother as they got off the escalator. “You two grew up together, huh?”
“Hope to tell you,” Charity said, smiling.
“She’s real nice,” Brett said.
“Well, I’m glad you think so. I was always partial to her myself.”
“How did she get so rich?”
Charity stopped. “Is that what you think Holly and Jim are? Rich?”
“That house they live in didn’t come cheap,” he said, and again she could see his father peeking around the corners of his unformed face, Joe Camber with his shapeless green hat tipped far back on his head, his eyes, too wise, shifted off to one side. “And that jukebox. That was dear, too. She’s got a whole wallet of those credit cards and all we’ve got is the Texaco—”
She rounded on him. “You think it’s smart to go peeking into people’s wallets when they’ve just bought you a nice lunch?”
His face looked hurt and surprised, then it closed up and became smooth. That was a Joe Camber trick too. “I just noticed. Would have been hard not to, the way she was showing them off—”
“She was not showing them off!” Charity said, shocked. She stopped again. They had reached the edge of the drapery department.
“Yeah, she was,” Brett said. “If they’d been an accordion, she would have been playing ‘Lady of Spain.’ ”
She was suddenly furious with him—partly because she suspected he might be