“Give the old man the same thing,” Irving said, low and flat.

“Once he’s out, we go through his truck for the deeds. If he doesn’t wake up in the morning, we tell the police his heart gave out. He’s sixty-eight. Nobody will ask twice.”

I have buried a wife. I have driven ten thousand nights of empty highway alone. I did not think anything left in the world could frighten me.

Standing in my son’s kitchen, listening to my daughter-in-law’s father calmly plan my death, I learned I was wrong.

But I also knew that a frightened man who keeps his head is far more dangerous than a calm one, and I kept my head.

Delia came back with a warm cup of spiced punch and a hostess’s smile.