He was hiking up Bear Hill. “What a day,” Slick says as he sits down to dinner. “Beautiful weather. The sun always recharges me.” “So you’re solar-powered?” I tease. “I heard about your protest, Liza,” Slick answers, his voice gravelly. He stares straight ahead. “On the radio, as I was driving back into town. I nearly had to pull over, I was so completely shocked.” The air in the dining room seems to go hard. None of us move. Slick glares into the distance. He seems to be thinking too. Is it possible to glare thoughtfully? “The strange thing,” he finally says, “is that I was proud of you.” Then he brings Mom’s hand to his lips, and she makes that weird smile she gets when he’s around. My stomach lurches. I realize there’s a side of Mom that she doesn’t share with me. But I’m too excited about the protest to mind. “Kiss,” Mom singsongs, then narrows her eyes challengingly. Silas doesn’t miss a beat. “Smooch.” “Peck,” Leland cries out.
