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it is. No one knows. And even if they think they know, they don’t. Twenty years from now, they’ll say, ‘Well, we didn’t know it then, but now we know that shit’ll kill you.’”
    He went on for a while after that, about pesticides and global warming and biodiversity. After a few miles of uninterrupted cornfields, we passed a small tract of identical new houses and he started in about how developers were buying up all the land and building on the farms, and about the run-off, and on and on.
    I didn’t completely disagree with anything he was saying, but I was tired and hungover and I just wanted food.
    *   *   *
    With its tree-lined streets and planters full of petunias, Main Street in Dunston had a small-town feel that was quaint but claustrophobic. After Moose’s rant, I half-expected to see people in hazmat suits walking down the street, but it was a beautiful sunny day and the few people that were out looked normal enough.
    Moose directed me to a dark brick building with BRANSON’S painted across the front window. I parked a couple of spots down from it, and as we got out, he said, “You go on in. I gotta run around the corner for a second. If the waitress comes, I’ll have the meatloaf and an iced tea.”
    Before I could say anything, he was jogging down the street. I shook my head, determined not to let it bother me, and pulled open the heavy glass door.

 
    8
     
    Bright sunlight streamed through the big front window, but it was quickly absorbed by all the dark wood and deep-red vinyl. The place was half full, tables in the front and booths along the left-hand side. The bar was in the back. A couple of old guys were sitting next to the beer taps, talking to the bartender, a solid-looking guy in his early sixties with a buzz cut and a bar towel over his shoulder. There was a picture of him on the wall by the front door, twenty years younger, balancing a laughing toddler on his knee.
    There were no photos of me and Frank like that. He didn’t come into the picture until later, when I had already learned how to be surly.
    The bartender laughed at something one of the old boys said, but his eyes scanned the room every few seconds.
    I scanned the room, too. At the first table was an elderly couple dressed in the same pale blue. The husband coughed and the wife rolled her eyes and told him to cover his mouth. At the second table two guys in denim and plaid were eating in silence. When I got to the third table, I stopped scanning and stared.
    She was sitting alone, reading a book and absentmindedly playing with her tousled, shoulder-length blond hair. In front of her was a tall glass of iced tea, full to the brim, sitting in a pool of condensation. On the plate next to it was an untouched turkey club and a pile of chips. She hadn’t started eating, and I liked the idea that she would be there for a while.
    She had on jeans and a T-shirt, and even sitting, I could tell she had a trim, athletic body. If she was wearing a bra, it wasn’t much of one, because her nipples were poking, just a bit. I might have lingered there a moment too long, because when I looked back up, her cool blue eyes were looking right at mine.
    Normally, I would have looked away fast and pretended nothing had happened. This time I smiled, and I was pretty sure she smiled back.
    When I finally did look away, I noticed the PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF sign right in front of me. I took a seat a couple of tables away and snuck a few peeks while I was waiting, made eye contact once and got another little smile. I don’t always know when something is there, but I usually know when absolutely nothing is, and I was not getting the absolutely nothing vibe.
    The waitress was a stocky older woman with a pleasant expression that disappeared behind an appraising look when she got to my table. She gave me a menu, and I asked for another one because I couldn’t remember what Moose wanted.
    The front door opened as I was trying to decide between the