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Fiji was squatting beside her looking solicitous.
    “Oh my goodness,” Francine Owens said. “What happened?”
    “Do you know where you are?” Manfred said, his voice gentle.
    “Why, no, I don’t believe I do.” She looked terrified, even more so after she gave a second glance at Manfred’s glinting silver piercings and spiky platinum hair.
    “You’re in Midnight, in a store called The Inquiring Mind,” Fiji said. “You came in to look around, and I think you fainted.”
    “But I’ve never done that before,” Ms. Owens protested weakly. “My gosh, I must have scared you to death! You . . . haven’t called the ambulance or anything, have you?”
    “We were just going to,” Fiji said. “You’ve only been out for a few seconds. Maybe you’d feel better if you got checked out?”
    “Oh, please don’t call,” Ms. Owens said. “The fuss . . . and all over nothing, I’m sure.”
    Fiji felt like the lowest form of life possible.
    “Really? Because we’d be glad to.”
    “I’m absolutely sure. Here, help me sit up. If you wouldn’t mind.”
    “Of course not.” Fiji took one arm, and Manfred the other, and in a jiffy Ms. Owens was sitting up and smiling with relief.
    “That’s better. I feel just fine. I’m sure I can get myself home.”
    “No, ma’am,” Manfred said firmly. “One of us will drive you in your car, and one of us will follow to take the driver home.”
    “Thanks for taking such good care of me,” Ms. Owens said, genuinely surprised. “Though . . .” She looked hard at Fiji. “I feel like we’ve met before. I mean, recently.”
    “I felt just the same way when you came in,” Fiji said. “But for the life of me, I can’t recall where. Have a drink.” She handed the glass of water to Ms. Owens, who took a long gulp and handed it back.
    “Thanks. If you wouldn’t mind, I know I’d feel even better at home,” she said.
    “All right, we’ll get you up then,” said Manfred, and he signaled for Diederik to take Fiji’s place at Ms. Owens’s side. She was up on her feet before she had time to worry about the procedure.
    Fiji asked Diederik to help customers if any came in while she was gone, and then she grabbed her keys and purse so she could follow Manfred to Ms. Owens’s house in Davy.
    “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” Kiki demanded.
    For a few pleasant moments, Fiji had forgotten all about her sister’s presence. “I won’t be gone long,” she said. “Unpack. Or fix lunch. That would be nice. And helpful.” And then she started out back to her car, only to spin on her heel.
    “And leave the kid alone,” she said.
    “Oh, for God’s sake. How old is he?” Kiki was partly angry, partly curious.
    “Younger than you think.”
    “Too young to drive the woman back to her house?”
    “No driver’s license,” Fiji hedged.
    “Why?”
    “He’s foreign.”
    “He sure doesn’t look Mexican.”
    “He’s Dutch,” Fiji said. “Now, I’ve got to go.” And she made good her very temporary escape.

3

    M anfred gave the sister—Kiki?—a nod and a wave as he got into Francine Owens’s car. The sister nodded back, but without enthusiasm. That was okay with Manfred. She wasn’t impressed with him; he surely wasn’t impressed with her, either. And he’d seen the way she looked at Fiji when Fiji’s back was turned.
    Manfred couldn’t drum up much conversation with Francine on their short drive to her house. She asked if he’d lived in the area long, seemed relieved that he hadn’t (so presumably he wouldn’t gossip about her fainting in the store), and thanked him several times for helping her, though his appearance clearly made her very uneasy. She had no idea how much he had helped her, but that was okay with Manfred.
    Her house was a small ranch in a neighborhood of similar homes. Gardens and basketball goals and barbecue grills and the smell of cut grass, though it was the tail end of mowing season in Texas.
    After Francine