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DESPITE THE MISGIVINGS I had expressed to Emma earlier, I was enjoying dinner with Donnie. A good night’s sleep had helped me to put things into perspective, and the delicious cooking smells filling his house enticed me to forget my doubts about the distant future. I preferred to focus on the immediate future, which was going to include Donnie’s delicious spaghetti Bolognese.
One time, it must have been about a year ago, I had fixed dinner for Donnie at my house. Since that one dinner date, for some reason, he’s never been able to coordinate his schedule with mine so we could do that again, and we always end up having dinner at his place. He insists on doing all of the cooking. Tonight I’d tried to pitch in by picking up some of the groceries.
I deposited my reusable rice-bag shopping tote on his kitchen counter and started pulling things out.
“I got grass-fed beef,” I said. “Beef from grass-fed cattle, I mean. That’ll be nice for the sauce, won’t it?”
“Perfect. It’ll give the sauce a richer flavor than the grain-fed would have. Good job.”
“Donnie, I’m feeling a little guilty about you doing all of the cooking. I mean, you run the restaurant all day, and when you finally get home—”
“No worries, Molly. Cooking at home isn’t anything like running a restaurant. Running a restaurant is like managing a factory. Cooking is art.”
“Huh. I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
To me, cooking is more like chemistry than art. I was never any good at chemistry.
“Creating a meal for you is very rewarding for me, Molly. I can tell you really enjoy eating.”
I pulled a tub of hydroponic lettuce from the bag, popped it out of its clear plastic container, and started rinsing it in the sink. That, I can do.
“So, what’s been going on since the last time I saw you?” Donnie asked.
“Oh, nothing too out of the ordinary.” Except for the part where your ex-wife murdered two people and skipped town. “My afternoon class went well today.”
“How so?”
“We’re covering persuasion and charisma. So I showed them a movie about Nazi propaganda.”
“That’s what I like about you, Molly. Always looking on the bright side. What inspired you to show your students a film about Nazis?”
“It turned out to be interesting for the students.” I didn’t feel like explaining about it being Pat’s suggestion. “Goebbels pioneered the modern use of sound bites, so after we watched, I had the students try to remember some of the bits of propaganda from the movie. They were able to remember a lot of it.”
“Like what?”
“For example, Goebbels got people all stirred up with the idea of endless war. Totaler Krieg. He got the public clamoring for it.”
“For endless war?”
“I know, it doesn’t appeal to me either. At all. But I guess he knew his audience. And tell me if this sounds familiar: Effective propaganda is confined to a few simple points, and these points are repeated over and over. Talking points, right? I bet we could turn on your TV right now and see Goebbels’ legacy in action.”
“My TV?”
“Oh right. I forgot you don’t have a TV.”
“There’s one in Davison’s room.”
“Well, we don’t have to go in there. Anyway, what’s new with you?”
“Good news, I suppose. Do you have the onions?”
I handed him the bag of sweet Maui onions.
“Perfect, thanks. Merrie Musubis is discontinuing their Mexican food line.”
“Already? That was fast.”
“I understand it was popular the first week, but their sales started to decline after that.” Donnie placed an onion on the cutting board and started chopping.
“I’m not surprised. Unexpected flavor combinations aren’t always a good thing. Like Spam and refried beans.”
I involuntarily wrinkled my nose at the pasty, flavorless memory of the Carlos Spamtana burrito.
“Speaking of unexpected combinations. Guess who’s unexpectedly back in Davison’s life. His mystery woman.” The speed and force of Donnie’s onion-chopping increased noticeably.
“What? She’s in California already? I mean, she’s in California now? How did that happen? How do you know?”
“I called Davison this morning. He was on his way back from the airport.”
“Are you sure it’s the same person? You mean the one he met here, right? Before our trip across the island?”
“He’s supposed to be concentrating on his schoolwork. This is the last thing he needs right now.”
“I thought she—I thought he said they were done.”
“Well, it’s her. No doubt about it.”
“Wow.”
“She dumped him. Now she snaps her fingers and he comes running back. I don’t like it.”
I wondered whether I should tell Donnie what I knew—or suspected—and decided I should not. If Donnie found out all about Sherry and Davison now, the Sumo Saimin would really hit the fan. Donnie would wonder why I hadn’t ever said anything to him.
Why hadn’t I said anything to him? Well, maybe I could have shared my suspicions with Donnie earlier, but what would I have told him? I hadn’t been sure myself, not until that conversation with Sherry. So I’d kept my mouth shut, and now it was too late.
And I had something else to worry about. What if Davison got on Sherry’s bad side, and ended up mysteriously dropping dead the way Glenn and Kathy had? I would have a lot of explaining to do.
“No. I don’t like it either,” I agreed. “Not at all.”
Donnie paused his chopping and turned to smile at me.
“I like your maternal instinct, Molly. You’re protective.”
“Hm. Maternal instinct. There’s that.”
“Did Davison ever tell you anything about her? Confide in you?”
“Confide in me? No. Davison hasn’t confided in me,” I answered, truthfully. “I honestly couldn’t tell you anything about this,” I added, pushing my luck.
“Molly, maybe you should talk to him.”
“What? Me? Why?”
“He won’t listen to me. He thinks he can party his way through college, and everything will turn out fine. I think if he had to live my—I think he doesn’t understand why his education is so important.”
“Well, he is going to inherit a successful business. If you were heir to Donnie’s Drive-Inn, schoolwork might not seem so urgent. Anyway, if he doesn’t listen to you I don’t think there’s a chance he’d listen to me.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself. I know Davison thinks very highly of you. He always asks about you.”
“Oh. That’s very nice.” I shuddered a little.
“Let me give you his contact information,” Donnie said. “You should have it anyway.”
I finished spinning the lettuce dry and reluctantly went to retrieve my phone.
“I appreciate it, Molly.”
I opened a new contact and at Donnie’s prompting typed in Davison’s phone number and email address. I hoped taking Davison’s information down was enough of a show of good faith. I certainly did not intend to call him.
“I think he’d enjoy hearing from you,” Donnie said. “Just a quick call, tell him you’re rooting for him. You’re the closest thing he has to a mom right now.”
I had no answer for that.