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Because without it, Maddy, the only place we can afford to put her is one of those horrible, real low-budget joints where they put all of the drug addicts with no other resources. She’d be shoved into a ward with about thirty other dying meth heads who look like Auschwitz survivors and—”
    “Well. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, right? Now.” Madison strode back to the credenza where she banged her empty glass down. Heavy male boots were heading down the interior hallway that bisected all the hangar offices of various estimators, accounting types, and foremen. Lots of teamsters and truck drivers had been coming and going, but the hollow sound of these boots stood out with authority.
    Even Madison turned around to face the closed door. Alert, obeying. I could easily read the excitement in her face before Ford even entered the room. Jesus, what a man. I had heard he’d been hit by some IED in Afghanistan or wherever he’d been patrolling as a SEAL. The ropey, thick scarring of his jaw didn’t even begin to detract from his innate beauty. His father had been Italian, and I guess Speed had told me he’d recently found out his mother was Apache, right before she died. Knowing that now, I could see it in the profile of his hooked nose as he gathered Maddy in his arms and bent a bit at the knees to kiss her on the mouth.
    He crushed her lovingly, his lips lingering on hers. Jealousy burned in the pit of my stomach and I wanted to slap myself. This was my sister here! She deserved Ford, and everything that came with Ford, and then some. It was just a childish crush of mine, and an absurd one too, thinking Ford would ever be mine. Still, I had to turn away, and I even wished I could drink some of the Jack Daniels.
    He turned to me. “I heard you were here.” He came for me with wide open arms. I wanted to scream and run away when he wrapped them around me, but instead I stood frozen like a statue, barely daring to breathe in his scent of sweat and exhaust fumes.
    “Little June,” he murmured in my ear. “I haven’t seen you since, well, since you went away to college.” Thank God he drew back and held me at arm’s length to look at me.
    “Well,” I breathed. “I’m not here for a good reason.”
    He made a serious face out of respect. “I know. I heard. Are you doing all right behind that diagnosis? I mean, she’s your mother and all.”
    That was Ford’s way of saying that Ingrid was knitting with only one needle. I briefly wondered if Ford was at all concerned that it ran in the family. He did just have a daughter with Maddy. “Oh, you know. We were never that close. Thank God I never relied on her for much. Her death won’t deprive me of anything. It’s just the… getting there that’ll be the hard part.”
    Ford had wandered behind his desk and was fingering some papers, already tuning out my talk about Ingrid. He probably knew it was a sore spot with Madison, and I doubt they ever brought up Ingrid’s name at all. I didn’t want to babble on, so I started stammering some crap congratulating them on their wedding. I was hugely relieved when a big clattering in the inner hallway took the attention off of me.
    Big men’s voices boomed out. All three of us stiffened, then quick as a whip, Ford snatched a pistol from where it had been secreted in his jeans waistband, underneath his leather cut. It sounded as though one man had busted through the heavy metal door at the end of the wing that led to the parking lot, and a few men were arguing with him, trying to get him to leave. Lots of hoarse, passionate yelling ensued—lots of “fuckers!” and “motherfuckers!”
    Holding out his hand in the “stay” position toward me and Maddy, Ford took three long strides to the open door and braced himself against it, just popping his head out briefly to see what the tussle was. By the confused look on his face, I surmised he didn’t know the intruder.
    Ford gazed down at his office