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ball and finally vanishing from sight. He leaned over, and despite the fact that he knew everything about this particular engine, he had no idea where it had gone.
    Mike stared, blinking back his disbelief.
    Great, he thought, just great. The wrench is stuck, the screwdriver was absorbed in a mechanical black hole, and I'm not getting a single thing done here. I've been working for an hour, and if it keeps going like this, I'm going to have to place a new order with Blaine Sutter, the Snap-on tool representative.
    He had to talk to Henry. It was the only way he could put this behind him.
    Crap.
    Mike reached for a rag and began wiping his hands on his way through the garage, hating the fact that it had come to this and trying to figure out the best way to ask. The challenge, he knew, was to not let Henry know why he was so interested. It would be best if the topic came up naturally, or Henry would end up rubbing his nose in it. His brother lived for moments like this. He'd probably spent the whole morning preparing zingers. With people like that, there was only one thing to do, and that was to use the fine art of deception. After taking a moment to formulate his plan, Mike poked his head into Henry's office.
    Henry was sitting behind his cluttered desk, placing an order on the phone. Directly in front of him was a packet of miniature doughnuts sitting next to a can of Pepsi. Henry always kept a stash of junk food hidden in his drawer, to make up for the healthy lunches Emma made him. Henry waved him in, and Mike took a seat in the chair across from the desk just as he hung up.
    "That was the dealer down in Jacksonville," Henry said. "They won't have the switch you need for the Volvo for another week. Remind me to call Evelyn, will you?"
    "Sure," Mike said.
    "So what's on your mind, little brother?"
    Of course, Henry already knew what Mike needed to talk about. The look on his brother's face made the topic plain, and though he could have come straight out with what Mabel had told him, he didn't. There was something about seeing Mike squirm that always left him feeling gleeful the rest of the day.
    "Well," Mike said, "I was thinking . . ." He trailed off.
    "Yes?" Henry asked.
    "Well, I was thinking that maybe I should start going to church with you and the family again."
    Henry brought his finger to his chin, thinking, That's an original way to begin. Won't do you any good, but it's definitely original.
    "Oh, really?" he said, hiding his smile.
    "Yeah, you know. I haven't been in a while, but it would be good for me."

    Henry nodded. "Mmm . . . you might be right. You want to meet there, or do you want us to pick you up?"
    Mike shifted in his seat. "Before we get to that-I just want to know what the new reverend is like. I mean, do people like what he says in his sermons? Do they talk about it after the services?"
    "Sometimes."
    "But people do talk. After church, I mean."
    "Sure. But you'll find out this Sunday. We go at nine."
    "Nine. Okay. Good." Mike nodded, pausing for a moment. "Well, just for example, what did people say after last Sunday?"
    "Oh, well, let's see . . ." Henry tapped his finger in feigned concentration. "Come to think of it, I don't really know. I was talking to Mabel."
    Bingo, Mike thought, smiling inwardly. Just like I planned. I am a master of deception.
    "Mabel, huh?" he asked.
    Henry reached for the doughnuts. Taking a bite, he waved a hand and leaned back in his chair, talking as he chewed. "Yeah. Usually she goes to the earlier service, but I guess she was running late. We talked for a good long time, and boy, did she tell me some interesting stuff." He took a moment to look upward, began counting the little holes in the ceiling tiles for effect, then rocked his seat forward again, shaking his head. "But you don't want to hear about that. We were just talking about Julie's date, and you've already told me you're not interested. So should we pick you up on Sunday or what?"
    Realizing his plan had just