That Lois's daughter-in-law had given in to an evil impulse, scooping the diamond earrings from the china dish and putting them in the pocket of her jeans, he had no doubt. But Janet Chasse no longer had them; even now she was no doubt reproaching herself bitterly for having lost them and wondering why she had ever taken them in the first place.
Ralph knew the shrimp with the scalpel had McGovern's hat even if Lois had failed to recognize it, and they had both seen him take Rosalie's bandanna. What Ralph had realized as he started to get up from the bench was that those splinters of light he had seen reflected from the bald creature's earlobes almost certainly meant that Doc #3 had Lois's earrings, as well.
The late Mr. Chasse's rocking chair stood on faded linoleum by the door to the back porch. Lois led Ralph to it and admonished him to "stay out from underfoot. Ralph thought this was an assignment he could handle. Strong light, mid-afternoon light, fell across his lap as he sat and rocked. Ralph wasn't sure how it had gotten so late so fast, but somehow it had. Maybe I fell asleep, he thought. Maybe I'm asleep right now, and dreaming all this. He watched as Lois took down a wok (definitely hobbit-sized) from an overhead cupboard.
Five minutes later, savory smells began to fill the kitchen.
"I told you I'd cook for you someday," Lois said, adding vegetables from the fridge crisper and spices from one of the overhead cabinets. "That was the same day I gave you and Bill the leftover macaroni and cheese. Do you remember?"
"I believe I do," Ralph said, smiling.
"There's a jug of fresh cider in the milk-box on the front porchcider always keeps best outside. Would you get it? You can pour out, too. My good glasses are in the cupboard over the sink, the one I can't reach without dragging over a chair. You're tall enough to do without the chair, I judge. What are you, Ralph, about six-two?"
"Six-three. At least I was; I guess maybe I've lost an inch or two in the last ten years. Your spine settles, or something. And you don't have to go putting on the dog just for me. Honest."
She looked at him levelly, hands on hips, the spoon with which she had been stirring the contents of the wok jutting from one of them.
Her severity was offset by a trace of a smile. "I said my good glasses, Ralph Roberts, not my best glasses."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, grinning, then added: "From the way that smells, I guess you still remember how to cook for a man."
"The proof of the pudding is in the eating," Lois replied, but Ralph thought she looked pleased as she turned back to the wok.
The food was good, and they didn't talk about what had happened in the park as they applied themselves to it. Ralph's appetite had become uncertain, out more often than in, since his insomnia had really begun to bite, but today he ate heartily and chased Lois's spicy stir-fry with three glasses of apple cider (hoping uneasily as he finished the last one that the rest of the day's activities wouldn't take him too far from a toilet). When they had finished, Lois got up, went to the sink, and began to draw hot water for dishes. As she did, she resumed their earlier conversation as if it were a half-finished piece of knitting which had been temporarily laid aside for some other, more pressing, chore.
"What did you do to me?" she asked him. "What did you do to make the colors come back?"
"I don't know."
"It was as if I was on the edge of that world, and when you put your hands over my eyes, you pushed me into it."
He nodded, remembering how she'd looked in the first few seconds after he'd removed his hands-as if she'd just taken off a pair of goggles which had been dipped in powdered sugar. "It was pure instinct. And you're right, it is like a world. I keep thinking of it just that way, as the world of auras."
"It's wonderful, isn't it? I mean, it's scary, and when it first started to happen to me-back in late July or early August, this was-I was sure I was going crazy, but even then I liked it, too. I couldn't help liking it."
Ralph gazed at her, startled. Had he once upon a time thought of