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usual bowling alley mix of sweaty feet and decades’ worth of cigarette smoke. I piled on lettuce, tomato, pickles, and mustard and carried my plate to the booth where Mo had put two drinks. Daryl, sitting beside Mo, was evidently joining us for lunch.
    I slid in across from them, relieved that this wasn’t turning out to be a date between Mo and me. The guy bothered me a little. He gave me small cymbal shivers in my stomach.
    â€œI work here,” Mo said, looking around with pride of ownership.
    â€œPart-time,” added Daryl. He gave me a slight smile before his look turned frank. “How are you doing with your grandmother’s death? You okay?”
    â€œWell, I do wonder about her drowning like that. She was such a good swimmer, and she swam there almost every night.”
    I took a bite. Surely these burgers would await me in heaven.
    â€œNo kidding,” said Mo, smoothing out the ketchup he’d slathered onto the top half of his bun. “Why do these old ladies swim at night, anyway?” Mo frowned and chomped down on his burger.
    Daryl and I both grimaced at his lack of tact.
    Mo said something else I that missed because of the thunks and clunks of the bowling pins. We all continued eating without speaking, but, since I had been reminded of Gram with Mo’s coarse remark, the burger had lost its flavor.
    â€œAre the police looking into it?” asked Daryl. If I looked closely, I could see a faint sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks. I couldn’t tell if I was attracted to him. Neek was right. The last thing I needed was another boyfriend. The memory of Len was too fresh.
    â€œI don’t think so. As far as I know, it was an accident. It’s just that… I’m going to the funeral home this afternoon. Maybe I’ll learn something there.”
    â€œSure is strange.” He shook his head, then resumed his meal. No one spoke again for a couple of minutes.
    â€œDo you live here in Alpha?” I asked Daryl, to break the uncomfortable lack of conversation.
    â€œDarry and I are housemates,” answered Mo, his mouth stuffed with fries. “We rent a house a couple of blocks from here.”
    â€œYou rent a whole house? Aren’t there any apartments?” I stared at the two-thirds of a burger on my plate, but watching Mo eat had completely turned my stomach and I couldn’t poke another bite in.
    â€œThey’re scarce here,” said Daryl, taking over for Mo, whose mouth was now completely full. “But we’re not exactly housemates. We each rent half of a duplex. We don’t live together. And no one has called me Darry for years, except Moey .” He directed a dark look with his light green eyes at Mo, who frowned, perplexed. “Moey” didn’t have quite the same ring as “Darry.”
    â€œMoey?” asked Mo.
    â€œDarry,” snapped Daryl. Irritation shimmered between them.
    When Daryl got up, I let out a puff of tension I didn’t know I’d been holding in. He returned after a few minutes with a Coke and asked me if I wanted to bowl, but I declined. I needed to stay away from men.
    â€œYou sure?” asked Mo, reaching for more ketchup.
    â€œYes, I’m sure.”
    How could Mo be so cavalier about my grandmother’s death?
    And Mo’s attitude toward Daryl? His momentary pique at being called Moey had evaporated and he was chums with Daryl again.
    I supposed I should be grateful for his friendly gesture in taking me to lunch, even though it was probably just an obligation to his mother. But I mildly dreaded the ride back to the lake alone with him. What would we talk about? He wasn’t holding up his end of the conversation at lunch.
    To my surprise, Mo chatted all the way back over the sound of his loud car, mostly about his plans to open a jewelry store someday in Moline or Rock Island. I revised my estimate of his intelligence upward a notch. Just one notch,