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to the brochure. But Blanca also gets the best of his
smiles and those cute new words. It's the only reason she hasn't
quit.
    Listen , Karin
tells herself. That's weekdays. The weekends are mine.
    Denny comes over
Saturdays and every Sunday. If he's there weekdays, Blanca doesn't
say. He picks the best time – after Karin's had her kid fix and
before Danny starts whining, "I'm bored."
    Danny lights up.
"Doorbell!"
    "I bet I know who it
is." Smiling, Karin opens the door and looks out at eye level. At
his giggle, she looks down and pretends to be surprised. "Why, it's
Denny!" She does not say, again .
    Green OshKosh overalls
today. Canary yellow shirt. Blond hair, bowl haircut just like
Danny's. Karin thinks that's why she likes the child so much. They
look like brothers. Who wouldn't like a neighbor child, looks a lot
like one of her own? She thinks sentimentally, the second child
I ever had . "Can Danny play?"
    "Benny?" she tries. He
blinks those green eyes. "Or is it Lenny?" He murmurs in that
little kid way. With a frisson she leans closer. Why does
this part creep her out? She tries, "Danny?"
    He blinks. Doesn't
exactly evade; he says "Denny," or something like it – she thinks.
Then, clearly, "Is Danny here?"
    "Of course, sweetie,
come on in." When Karin bends to hug him, he clings so she has to
pry his fingers off. Poor kid , she notes. Full time
mother and starved for love . With a darling smile, he trots off
to Danny's room.
    The child's mother
would speak clearly – real name, nickname, might even reel off a
pedigree and a list of food fetishes, but Karin has decided not to
like her. If she was that good a mom, Denny wouldn't be over here
all the time. The woman seems to drop him on the doorstep, ring the
bell and go. Unless, since Cadogan Hills is so quiet and ultrasafe,
he trots over on his own. Unlike hellacious Terry McGonnigle, whose
parents are brokers, Denny is an ideal guest. With Terry, Karin has
to be on the phone with Patti McGonnigle every living minute –
hitting, fights, better come over, Terry started it, but he's going
to need stitches.
    She never, ever has to
discipline Denny. It's a little eerie, but he's never bad! And
bless him, he never overstays. Comes after lunch so she won't need
to feed him or phone his mom about allergies, and just when she
starts wondering whether to call and ask if he can stay for supper,
he lisps "Fsthangs" and goes.
    "It's pizza," Karin
offers at suppertime, even though she's glad it will be just the
three of them – her, Danny and Dave.
    "I mvf piffm," Denny
says.
    "We'd love to have
you, Denny."
    He says – it sounds
like, "Mwenny."
    "Lenny?"
    "Fwenny."
    "Oh, Kenny."
    Little mite standing
there with fur in his mouth and sweet, blind love shining in his
eyes. "Nwmenny."
    "Do you know your
phone number?"
    He shakes his
head.
    "I can walk over with
you, ask her myself."
    "Nemf." Smiling, he
shakes his head.
    Safe as a theme park,
Cadogan Hills is completely silent at twilight, happy families
sitting down together behind locked doors. The late afternoon light
is thinning and Karin says in a moment of apprehension, "Will you
be OK going home, or shall I get Mr. Fowler to walk you?" She
imagines marauders in the bushes, coyotes swarm ing down out of the
hills. "Just a minute." Calls. "Dan?"
    "Nmmne," Denny says. A
little agitated. Lenny? Kenny?
    And when she comes
back with Dan, the child is gone. "He's so little," she says to her
husband. "I hope he gets home all right."
    "Perfectly safe." Dan
slides his arm around her waist. "That's what we're paying for. For
all we know, he lives next door."
    "Danny, stop that!"
The kid is elbowing and gouging between them. He hates it when they
touch. Karin worries. "I should tell his mother he's on the
way."
    Dan draws her back
into their warm kitchen. "Believe me, if he doesn't make it, you'll
hear soon enough. Danny, stop that!"
    "I don't know," Karin
says uneasily, "these houses are tight as drums. Anything could
happen out