"Friday's going to be a busy night," she told him. Grim glanced at her. "How busy?" "Busy enough you'll want to make sure you don't come in here looking like you slept in your boots."
He looked almost alarmed. "Sarah called?" Millie nodded. "They're coming if the people helping them say the road is clear."
Grim set down his fork and stared at the second dinner, which the cook had prepared again out of habit. "I thought they might not want to," he said. "That's the thing about giving someone a choice, Victor," Millie replied. "Sometimes they choose to come back."
The following Friday he arrived twenty minutes earlier than usual. Danny noticed the clean shirt under the vest and the fact that Grim had trimmed his beard. Neither detail was dramatic, but together they suggested a kind of preparation the man had not permitted himself in years. "You nervous?"
Danny asked as they parked. "No," Grim answered. Danny looked at him. "You just checked your watch twice in thirty seconds." Grim muttered something unflattering and went inside.
Millie had moved two tables together near the corner booth, making room for Sarah and her children without requiring anybody to squeeze against the wall. She had set the extra place at the far end, just as Grim requested. Its plate was empty for the moment; he had asked her to bring the meal when the others arrived so he would not spend the evening staring at food getting cold. She had accepted the request without comment.
Ethan came in first, wearing dry jeans, a clean plaid shirt, and a pair of shoes that fit. He stopped just inside the entrance and looked toward the booth, almost as he had done on the stormy night. Rosie came in behind him holding their mother's hand, her lavender sweater pulled over a dress with little yellow flowers. Sarah followed slowly, still careful with her ribs, accompanied by an advocate who waited near the counter and then took a seat where she could remain available without intruding.
For a moment nobody moved. Grim stood beside the booth in his leather vest and watched the children take in the diner without the terror that had brought them there the first time. Rosie saw him and hurried forward, stopping at the last instant as though she remembered she was supposed to ask before hugging strangers. "Can I?" she said. Grim crouched awkwardly, the movement hard on old knees, and held out his arms. She stepped into them without another word.
He closed his eyes briefly against her hair. It smelled of clean soap rather than wet desert dust. Ethan approached more slowly, his face serious, but when Grim stood the boy extended his hand with all the solemnity of a business agreement. Grim took it.
"Good to see you in dry shoes," he said. Ethan glanced down and nearly smiled. "They have real soles," he answered. "Rosie keeps checking them to see whether they make noise on the floor."