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said in a low voice.
    Manny shrugged. “Okay, Wyatt, but he makes a mess, you have to clean it up.”
    Nolan swiped his bag from the counter and headed for the door. Jade pulled his hand, her voice imploring, “I want to eat inside.”
    Nolan gave in ungraciously, and the four of them took a booth in the rear. The restaurant was packed now—burgers were flying; stacks of fries and a dozen shakes were all carried over to the large group of newcomers. The noise level rose, the group bickering about something. They must be here for the theme park, Wyatt figured.
    He turned, looking at the older man who sat drumming his fingers uncomfortably. His shoes were caked with mud,and the coat’s hem rested on the floor. The patrons treated him as though he were invisible. Wyatt pulled out a few bucks from his pocket and placed it quietly in the register. Employees ate half price. Wyatt took a double double, a large package of fries, and a shake and brought it over to the bum.
    “Where you goin’ with that?” Manny called out with exasperation, watching Wyatt place it on the table where the man sat alone. “If you feed him, he’ll keep coming back.”
    “Don’t worry. I paid for it,” Wyatt told him quietly over his shoulder. The shyness he felt around his peers evaporated. He understood loneliness, the malaise of not fitting in. While he was tongue-tied with Jade or a bully like Nolan, his sense of compassion took over for someone down on their luck. It was these qualities that drew Melvin and Howard Drucker to him. He never judged, and he wanted so much to make people feel at ease around each other. “Hungry?” he asked.
    The huge group grew strangely quiet. The lactose intolerant man wearing the suit stood. He had his mouth open to interrupt Wyatt, but something unseen to everyone else made him pause.
    “Is that for me?” the old man asked softly.
    “It’s the best burger we have.” He leaned down to confide. “I like it better than the fish, but if you’d rather—”
    “I didn’t pay for it.” He looked up at Wyatt, his eyes piercingly direct. “Do you know who I am?”
    Wyatt searched his face but couldn’t place him. He was painfully skinny, his cheekbones jutting from his face, the creases lined with the red dust of the valley. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. My name’s Wyatt. Don’t worry about the cost. My treat,” Wyatt said as he placed the food on the table. “I’ve got another for you when you leave… for later.”
    “No, no, this is fine, I mean exceptional. You’re very kind.” He looked at the group in silent communication. “What’s your last name?”
    “Baldwin, sir. My name is Wyatt Baldwin.”
    “Baldwin. Baldwin. I knew a Baldwin once.”
    “It’s a pretty common name, sir. And you’re probably thinking of Alec, Stephen, or Billy—the family of actors. No relation. What’s yours?” Wyatt held out his hand.
    “If you touch that guy, I don’t want you touching my food!” Nolan shouted.
    Wyatt ignored Nolan, reaching forward to take the grubby hand. “Don’t pay attention to him.”
    “You’re very brave,” the man said quietly. “Do you always shake a stranger’s hand?”
    “If we’ve shaken hands, I don’t think we’re strangers anymore. Besides, I’ve introduced myself.”
    “Indeed, you have,” the man said, coming to his feet, straightening up. He was so tall, Wyatt had to put his head back to look up to him. He didn’t look old or frail after all, Wyatt thought. His black eyes swept the room, coming back to rest on Wyatt. “Vincent Conrad,” the man replied, taking Wyatt’s hand in a surprisingly strong handshake. “Forgive my filth. We’ve been knee deep in your red sand, getting the park ready. The werewolves…” he said, as if it were an apology. “You understand.” His deep voice filled the room, and Wyatt was awed by his presence.
    Wyatt’s eyes widened with excitement as he looked closely at the man’s lined face. He was dirty,