so fast. She lit up with a smile that was so wide Jules had to squint at the extreme wattage. And, sure enough, the voice belonged to Boston Globe reporter Jack Lloyd. He was with a grim-looking boy who was nearly Jack’s height, but half his weight. He was almost as skinny as young Jason.
But he was older than Maggie and her friends. Maybe by as much as four years.
He’d clearly made an effort to look nice. His jeans were clean, and he was wearing a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His long hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. But he had the hardened, edgy attitude of a kid who’d often found himself in trouble—and probably not by accident.
Still, Jules had to give the boy credit. He looked Arlene dead in the eye and held out his hand and said, “I’m Mike Milton, Mrs. Bristol.”
“Liz’s brother,” Jack provided, in case they weren’t on the same page. He turned to Mike. “And she’s Ms. Schroeder. Maggie’s name is Bristol, but her mom and dad are no longer married.”
“Of course, I knew that, I’m sorry,” the kid said. He glanced at Jules, but apparently decided that he didn’t need to know who he was, because he turned back to Arlene. “Ms. Schroeder, I came over here tonight because my sister is convinced that you don’t want her anywhere near Maggie ever again, and maybe that’s the case, but there’s really something that you need to know before you make any ultimatums and that’s that Liz is the only person Maggie talks to, you know, about your being out there, in danger? And it’s really not that Maggie talks to Lizzie, but it’s that Liz makes Maggie talk. And I can see it—I can see that it helps her. Mags. And I try to get her to talk about it, too, but …” He shook his head. “Lizzie’s the only one she’ll talk to and I know she’s not perfect, Lizzie, she’s really not even close to perfect, but her friendship with Maggie is … It’s important to both of them and … I wanted you to know that.”
It was quite the speech, a little wordy in places, sure—and it would have benefited from more traditional punctuation, which also would have allowed the kid the chance to take a breath.
But as far as heartfelt went, it was a perfect ten, in Jules’s book. And evidently it got high scores in Arlene’s, too, because she was now clearly struggling to find her voice to respond.
Jack gave her the time she needed to compose herself by putting a hand on Mike’s shoulder and saying, “You were right—that’s really important information for Arlene to know.”
“Thank you,” Arlene added. “I can tell that you … care a lot about Maggie.”
The boy’s attitude shifted into full-on badass, and he laughed his disgust as his entire face shut down. “Perfect, yeah, I should have expected you to go there. Right. I don’t know why I bothered—”
“Yeah, you do.” Jack cut him off. “And she didn’t go there, but you sure as hell just did. So why don’t you just confess to Maggie’s mother that you’re smitten, but you know damn well that right now the girl’s too young. Cap it off with a little reassurance that you’re honorable—”
“I am honorable,” Mike countered hotly, his chin high. “Not that I expect you to believe me.”
“I’d very much like to believe you,” Arlene said evenly. “But I don’t really know you. So why don’t you go home and pick up Lizzie and both come back here so we can all spend some time getting to know each other.”
The boy looked at Arlene as if she’d just spoken to him in Chinese.
“Unless you have someplace you need to be,” she continued. “In which case, you and Liz can come over for dinner. Maybe tomorrow …?”
“Not tomorrow,” Jack said quickly. “We’re busy tomorrow. Night.”
Arlene looked up at him in surprise. “We’re …?”
“Busy. Yes, we are.” Jack nodded. For some reason he was unable or unwilling to look at her, his focus on Mike. “How about Sunday. I’ll come, too.”
The boy was astonished by the invitation, and Jules could tell that he was not the kind of kid who was often astonished. Mike closed his mouth. Opened it again. Closed it again, then cleared his throat. “No,” he said. “Well, I mean, yeah. Dinner would, um … I know Lizzie would like that and, um, I would. Also. But she’s