Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Global Heartwarming - 6/18

Clark had just set foot on the newsroom floor Thursday morning when Jimmy caught his arm. “CK! Good. We need to go right now.”

Clark spun on his heel and followed. “Where are we going, Jimmy?”

“Mazik’s Jewelry. Somebody robbed it last night.”

“What!”

Jimmy looked at him oddly. “Why so surprised? The bad guys rob places with money and jewels all the time.”

Clark sighed. Jimmy couldn’t be held responsible for Clark’s mental state or the emotional associations with Jason Mazik’s store. “Okay, I’m right behind you.”

They piled into the elevator together as Jimmy did a final check of his camera and other equipment. Clark listened to his mumbled inventory and smiled. “You got everything, Jimmy?”

The young man glanced up. “Sure. Hey, what’s so funny?”

Clark shook his head. “Not funny. Refreshing.”

“What is?” Then Jimmy nodded. “Oh, yeah, I got it. Youthful enthusiasm and energy, right?”

“That’s it.”

“Hey, I can’t claim all the credit. I’ve learned a bunch of stuff from Perry, but a lot of what I know came from you and Lois.”

Clark froze for a moment, then Jimmy put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, CK, I didn’t mean to—”

“No.” Clark shook himself. “No, that’s okay. If you’re part of Lois’ legacy in the news game, then she would’ve considered it a compliment.”

The young man slowly grinned back at him. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

They rode the rest of the way to the ground floor in silence. As Clark stepped out, Jimmy asked, “CK? Are you doing okay?”

Clark stopped and turned, then considered the matter realistically. Six months earlier he would have simply muttered ‘Fine’ and ignored the reality of his heart, but instead he paused and gave the question some real thought.

After a long moment, he nodded and said, “You know, Jimmy, I think I am okay. Today, at least.”

Jimmy grinned. “Can’t ask for much more than that. Come on! We got a story to cover.”

*****

Clark and Jimmy showed their press passes and gained access to the front door of Mazik’s shop. They stopped and peeked inside, and Jimmy was surprised at the level of destruction he saw.

All of the display cases were smashed and the locked drawers beneath them had been pried open. Broken glass was scattered all over the floor. The light reflecting off the fragments made it appear that there were jewels scattered all around them.

But the detectives and the police photographer ignored the flashes, although Jimmy noticed that they did their best to step in the few areas which were clear of glass shards. One of the detectives, a redheaded woman Jimmy didn’t know, turned and saw them.

“Hey! You guys press?”

“Daily Planet,” Clark answered. “I’m Clark Kent, reporter, and this is Jimmy Olsen, photographer. We’ve been assigned to cover this breaking story.”

She cautiously made her way to the door. “We’re just about done with the preliminaries. What all do you need?”

“Pictures of the crime scene, an interview with the owner and/or manager, and a statement from the police,” Jimmy said, “along with any thoughts about who’s responsible and how soon you expect to catch them.”

“And your name, too,” added Clark. “We want to give you proper credit for solving the case.”

She frowned at Clark. “I’m Detective Felicia Ybarra. My partner is Detective Sergeant Gerald Freeman. And I can’t tell you how soon we’ll find these perps.”

Clark took a pencil and a notepad from his pocket. “Was anyone injured during the robbery, Detective?”

Ybarra shook her head. “No. It looks as if the skels – sorry, the perpetrators – waited until after the shop was locked up for the night. First thing they did was smash the security camera with a crowbar or a pipe. That swing at the lens was the only image captured, so we don’t even have a good idea of their number.” She sighed. “This is going to take a lot of legwork.”

Jimmy nodded. “Can I take some shots now?”

Ybarra turned and called out, “Jerry? I got two reporters here. Can they get some pics?”

A man in a suit looked in their direction. “Reporters for who?”

“Daily Planet. Names are Kent and Olsen.”

“Kent, huh? Sure. Just don’t catch any of our faces.”

“The Planet doesn’t print facial images unless the people are the story,” Jimmy said. “If I do happen to catch anyone’s faces, we’ll either blur them out or crop them out of the picture.”

Jerry frowned and licked his lips for a few seconds, then said, “Sure. Come on in. We’ve got all our shots.”

Jimmy stepped in first, trying to avoid as many glass fragments as possible. He didn’t want another memo from Building Services for bringing trash onto the newsroom floor. He checked his flash unit once more to make sure it was plugged into its charging port, then started photographing everything he could see.

He heard Clark ask for Jerry’s full name and rank – Detective Sergeant Gerald Freeman – then secured permission to quote Detective First Grade Felicia Ybarra. As Jimmy took a shot of one of the open drawers behind a destroyed display case, Clark broke off the conversation with Ybarra and called out, “Jimmy! Hold up a minute.”

Clark and the female detective were suddenly behind Jimmy’s shoulder. “What is it, CK? Did I step on something?”

“No,” Clark said, “but I think you found something.” Clark pointed at the open drawer and said, “Can you light that up again with your flash? I think I saw a reflection of some kind.”

“What?” Ybarra asked. “What did you see?”

Jimmy triggered just his flash unit and looked down. “Wait a minute,” he said. “There’s something on the floor under there.”

Jimmy reached for the open drawer, but Clark gently grabbed his forearm. “We need to let the detective check it out, Jim.” Clark turned to her and gestured for her to move past him.

Ybarra gave him a questioning look but didn’t speak, then stepped past him and pushed the drawer shut with her foot.

A rectangle of paper the size of a business card lay on the floor.

She frowned at it. “That’s not one of Mazik’s cards. The font’s all wrong.” She raised her voice. “Jerry? I think the reporters may have found us a clue.”

Freeman walked over to them, pulling on a latex glove as he approached. His eyebrow lifted at the sight of the card. He waited for Jimmy to take a shot of it as it lay, then he picked it up with his gloved hand as Ybarra opened a plastic evidence bag for him.

“Kelly’s Auto Body and Repair,” Ybarra read through the bag. “Doesn’t sound like something one of Mazik’s customers would drop in here.”

Freeman nodded. “Except for the busted glass and a couple of smudged partial work boot footprints, the carpet is immaculate. And I doubt that many of Mazik’s customers would choose that footwear.” He turned to Clark and Jimmy. “Gentlemen, I believe you have indeed given us a significant clue.”

“We won’t print that you have the card unless it helps you solve the case, Detective,” Clark said. “I’ve got a personal reason to see that the thief or thieves get caught.”

“Well, I think you’ve earned a quick interview with my partner, Kent,” said Freeman. “I, in the meantime, will move on this important clue. Good eyes, both of you.”

“You would have found it eventually.”

Ybarra unbent and almost smiled at Clark. “Don’t sell yourself short, big man. We have a lead quicker than we would have, thanks to you. Now, what else do you want to ask me? For your story, that is.”

*****

Clark got a page two byline on Friday morning and Jimmy got three shots printed alongside the story. He even earned a heartfelt “attaboy” from Perry. And Clark managed to quote both Detective Inspector Gerald Freeman and Detective Felicia Ybarra on the robbery and how quickly they anticipated solving the crime.

And they did, needing no help from Superman. On Friday afternoon just after two o’clock, Detective Felicia Ybarra, accompanied by three uniformed officers, burst into the thieves’ apartment hideout with the proper warrants and arrested two men without incident. They found the tools the thieves had used to break into the store, plus several bags of mounted jewelry and a number of loose stones, all identified as missing from Mazik’s store, all of which were confiscated as evidence. The tally indicated that the thieves hadn’t sold any of the loot yet, probably because they didn’t know who would fence it.

Clark got the exclusive on the arrest, too, printed in the Saturday morning edition, thanks to a hasty phone call from Detective Sergeant Gerald Freeman to the Daily Planet. Jimmy’s follow-up on the brief saga was printed on the Sunday front page below the fold, pushed out of the banner spot by Clark’s coverage of the nuclear disarmament treaty just concluded between the nations of the European Union and Israel. It included a quote from Superman to the effect that life in both Europe and the Mid-East was now safer than before.

Clark had asked Superman if he intended to help enforce the treaty. He’d answered that he wasn’t involved in the political or legal process of treaty enforcement, and that it was an agreement between sovereign nations and they were responsible for following the provisions in the document. But he also stated that he’d be on hand to intercept any nuclear missiles any nation might launch toward the others and throw them into the sun.

Perry read over the final layout of the front page and smiled. Maybe – just maybe – Clark Kent was finally back.

He’d have to touch base with Clark’s parents. He was certain they’d want a copy of this issue, and if they didn’t already have one he’d mail one to them himself.

He’d call Bill Henderson, too. It looked to Perry as if the developing relationship Clark had with this lady detective was a good thing for Clark.

And for the Daily Planet, too.

*****

Just before Clark left for the day that Friday, his desk phone rang. “Clark Kent, Daily Planet. How can I help you?”

“You can come to dinner with me Sunday afternoon,” Bobbie responded.

He smiled. “I think I can manage that. Where and what time?”

“I’ll pick you up about eleven-thirty. We’re having lunch with Glen’s parents.”

Clark felt his mouth move. He knew he should probably say something, but whatever it was wouldn’t come out. He licked his lips, and when that didn’t help, he sat up and flexed his shoulders.

Nothing. His speech center had definitely locked up due to input overload.

Bobbie finally said, “Clark? Are you okay? Is this – is this too much?”

He shook himself and took a breath. “No, Bobbie, it’s – it’s not too much. You just kind of caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay. I think I’d really like to meet them. From what you’ve told me about Glen’s family, they’re really good people.”

The relief in her voice came down the line. “Oh, yeah, they’re great! I’ve told them a little about you and your job and a little bit of how you – how you understand where I’m coming from. But I meant it, you don’t have to come if you’d rather not. I know I just kind of threw it at you out of the blue and I don’t want to put any pressure on you but I was hoping—”

“Whoa, hold on! Yeah, the invite was a surprise, but that’s not a reason to turn it down. Anyway, I really can’t complain, not after the way I ambushed you with dinner at the Lanes.”

“That ended up being a good night! I like Lucy and Ellen. In fact, Lucy and I are meeting for lunch again on Monday. I think she wants to grill me on whether or not my intentions toward you are honorable.”

Honorable intentions.

There were so many different possible responses to that.

He could tease her lightly. He could act offended. He could laugh it off. He could express his own concern about her intentions. He could turn it back on her and suggest something about his own intentions, honorable or not.

But in his mind, none of those responses fit. He knew he was special to Bobbie, just as she knew she was special to him. He also knew that it was way too early to even suggest a romantic future with her, much less something permanent. Neither of them was ready for something like that. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want to make her feel as though he thought she was pushing him in a direction he didn’t want to go.

So he opted for a neutral and non-committal comment. “You just tell her your intentions include beating me at multiple board games in the near future and she’ll be fine.”

Bobbie’s relaxed laugh eased his mind. “I’ll remember that. Thanks, Clark.”

“Any time. You said eleven-thirty on Sunday?”

“Yes. Oh, please wear nice clothes and clean sneakers. They raised seven kids in that house, and even though you can tell it’s lived in they keep it immaculate. They’re not OCD about it, but you’d better not smudge any of the glass or put your cup down without a saucer or a coaster under it. Because I am OCD about it. I am at their place, anyway.”

“Okay. Something like my usual Saturday outfits, but slacks instead of jeans?”

“That’d be perfect. See you in the morning?”

“Unless someone makes news I have to cover or commits a crime you have to solve, yes.”

“Great! Tomorrow’s my treat at Starways, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m not keeping score, but I won’t fight with you over the check. If you want to pay, it suits me just fine.”

“You know I’d beat you in a fight, right?”

He smiled. “I’d let you win. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Clark.”

*****

When Bobbie arrived at Glen’s grave the next morning – a good bit earlier than usual – she paced nervously. Sure, Clark had assured her that he’d be glad to meet Glen’s parents, but maybe he was just being kind. She’d not told him that the invitation to the Lanes had all but terrified her until she’d spoken with Ellen in the kitchen. The older woman’s smiles and sincere manner and gentle words had eased Bobbie’s trepidation slightly, and the way she’d reassured Bobbie after learning where and how Bobbie and Clark had met had dissipated any residual tension she might have still had. She wondered what Ryan and Clark had discussed in the living room, but it didn’t matter all that much. Whatever it was, it hadn’t spooked Clark into backing away from her.

Now, though, she’d pushed him into dinner with the LeCour family. Bobbie knew they loved her as an almost-daughter, the woman their youngest son had intended to wed, and that their interest in meeting her new masculine friend was sincere and genuine. But there was always the possibility of an accidental word or phrase or look that would damage such a new and fragile relationship, and the prospect of such an occurrence frightened her. She really hoped no one—

Bobbie stopped short as she realized something.

She was thinking more about Clark than about Glen.

What did that mean? Was it just her apprehension over the upcoming dinner? Was she putting Clark in Glen’s place in her heart? Or was it just the current circumstances?

Had to be something current, she insisted to herself. No way was Clark going to crowd Glen out of her mind. Didn’t matter that he wasn’t trying to replace Glen in her life or that he’d never even hinted that she should forget Glen. That just wasn’t going to happen. No way, no how, Glen was number one in her heart forever.

Maybe Clark could be a close number two? Maybe as a really good friend?

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. That was it. Clark would be her really good friend, someone she could and would trust, someone who would stand beside her no matter how crazy her life became. He’d be her rock, her foundation, her defense against all the heartache in the world.

And he’d smile at her like he enjoyed being all that to her.

The scuff of shoe leather behind her made her smile. Clark was here, and he was early too. She turned to greet him and—

And it wasn’t Clark. It was a tall older man who appeared to be well into his seventh decade. He had gentle eyes, a large nose, and curly white hair. He wore a soft-brimmed hat, a knee-length tan coat, and a long multi-hued garish scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. The man shuffled along the path as if his life had ended but his body hadn’t quite realized it yet.

The man didn’t look at her, he just slowly carried the bouquet of flowers beyond Glen’s grave to one four plots over. He put his free hand on the headstone, bent over, and laid the flowers at the stone’s base. After a few seconds, he struggled upright again and turned to walk back the way he’d come.

This man was hurting. Bobbie knew what that felt like. She didn’t know if she could offer him anything worthwhile, but she had to say something to him.

“Sir?” The man didn’t respond. “Sir, are you all right?” He stopped but didn’t look at her. “I’m a police officer. Is there any way I can help you?”

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then said, “No. But thank you. You’re very kind to offer.”

His accent was vaguely English. And his voice was vaguely familiar. “Are you sure? Is there someone I can call to come and get you? Or could I take you somewhere? As a police officer, I mean.”

He looked up at her. If he’d been standing straight, he’d be taller than she was, but he was bent over as if he suffered from arthritis – or maybe the burdens of life had laid on his shoulders too long. The man shook his head and replied, “You truly are very kind. Perhaps I can do something for you some day.”

Bobbie nodded. “I’d like that. But isn’t there something I can do for you?”

For the first time, he smiled. Just a little. But it was a smile. “No, you’ve done quite a lot. And I thank you for it.” He turned his whole body to face her and added, “I hope you have a very good life, young lady.”

“Thank you, sir. You have a good life too.”

He smiled again and reached out to touch her arm, then he shuffled slowly down the path and turned the corner to the main entrance.

Bobbie watched him go, then eased over to the plot where the man had placed the flowers. She read the legend on the headstone.


Elizabeth’s birth and death dates weren’t that far apart. Bobbie did some quick math and came up with an age of forty-three when she’d died.

She’d died just about nine years ago.

Was Elizabeth the older man’s daughter? Had they been long-term companions? Had Elizabeth been married, had she had children? Was she even family to the man? Or were they just close friends, or was the old man Elizabeth’s father’s friend? Or had they been husband and wife? Was he so stricken with grief that he’d aged prematurely? Had he loved and needed and missed her so much that he’d given up on living?

She’d probably never know.

She turned back to Glen’s grave and looked at the headstone again. It listed his name, his birth and death dates, and displayed the badge and handcuffs of a police officer. It also indicated that he’d died in the line of duty.

Bobbie took a deep breath but didn’t cry. She wasn’t sure why, but the hurt wasn’t as deep today. She still missed him terribly. She still felt responsible – partly, anyway – for his being shot during a stupid traffic stop. There would always be a Glen-shaped hole in her life.

But for the first time, she didn’t consider joining him, didn’t feel overwhelmed with grief, didn’t curse herself and accuse herself of complicity in his murder. She’d always love him, always miss him, always regret not being able to walk beside him in life, always miss whatever joy she might have experienced with him. But those feelings would no longer stop her from living.

The dead part of her heart was coming alive again. And she welcomed it back with open arms.

Her time that morning with Clark at Starways was the best hour she’d had in over a year.

*****

The next morning, at half-past eleven, Clark looked up when Bobbie knocked on his door. Of course he recognized her knock. That knock was as obvious a clue as a hand-written cheat sheet on a college football player’s forearm.

He bounced up from the couch and opened the door. “Hi! You’re right on time, as usual.”

She smiled brightly. “Of course I am. You ready for lunch with the LeCour family?”

“Just let me get my windbreaker. There. Now I’m ready.”

She put her hand inside his elbow as they walked to her car. He smiled and glanced down at her. Her face wore a jaunty smile.

He looked up as they approached her car and said, “What is this? Homicide detective Roberta Tracey is double-parked?”

She smile-frowned at him and shoved him at the passenger door. “Cut it out. The emergency flashers are on and it wasn’t here more than three minutes. Besides, I’m just picking up a passenger.”

He nodded. “Okay, if you say so.” They climbed into their respective doors and sat back, then Clark added, “But I’m gonna research the parking regulations for this part of town on Monday morning.”

Her head slowly turned toward him. “Why?” she asked in a flat voice.

“Are you kidding? It’s my next Metropolis exposé. ‘Metro Detective Abuses Parking Laws.’ I can smell the Kerth nomination now!”

Bobbie rolled her eyes and started the car. “Good thing Edward R. Murrow is retired. You’d make him nervous.”

“About my obvious skill at investigating, no doubt.”

“Or at the immensity of your ego.”

He grabbed the left side of his chest and dramatically declaimed, “Augh! Oh, fair one, I am betrayed by thy beauty and charm! Thou hast slain me with thy viperous tongue! Thy dagger hast struck deep into mine heart and I die!”

Clark took a deep breath and held it, then toppled against the passenger door. He exhaled deeply and held the pose for a long moment, then looked up at Bobbie, who was glancing between his performance and her watch, a flat expression on her face. She shook her head, then raised her eyebrows and asked, “You about done now? We have a lunch engagement and I don’t want to tell them we were late because you got bit by a Shakespeare beetle.”

He straightened and buckled his seat belt. “Everybody’s a drama critic.”

*****

Bobbie rolled to a stop in the circular driveway of a fairly large house and watched Clark’s eyes get bigger by the moment. He scanned the width of the two-story building, then turned to her and said, “Tell me this is a fancy restaurant in an expensive hotel where we’re meeting Glen’s parents.”

She grinned. “Nope. This is their home. The four oldest siblings have their own homes, but the two youngest live here with their families. And it’s not because they’re lazy or out of work. They do the upkeep on the lawns and the maintenance on the house and their kids keep Grand-maman et Grand-papa young. At least, that’s what Étienne and Evonne say. I don’t think they’d want it any other way.”

Clark released his seat belt latch and looked down at himself. “Now I wish I’d worn a suit,” he mumbled. “I’m way underdressed.”

“No you’re not,” she insisted. “Look at me. I’m wearing slacks and blouse with my tennies and they’ll be thrilled to see me. You’ll be fine as long as you’re with me, okay?” She opened the driver’s door and released her own seat belt. “I promise, Clark. They won’t judge you and they won’t run you off. They’re good people.”

He sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it. Oh, how’s their English? Or do they prefer French?”

She nodded. “English is fine, although a few French terms wouldn’t upset them. I usually say ‘bonne après-midi’ – that’s ‘good afternoon’ – when I come over for lunch. Ah, you do speak some French, right?”

He nodded. “Learned in Paris.”

“Really? When were you in France?”

He turned and almost smiled. “Paris, Texas.”

“Oh, funny, real funny. You better not kid around like that with them or I’m liable to arrest you.”

“The French are often accused by other Europeans of having a poor sense of humor. I really did spend some time across the pond, as the Brits say, and I found that rumor to be untrue. They laugh at different things than Americans do, but they laugh a lot.”

They stepped out of the car through their respective doors and stood. He met her at the foot of the walkway. “I agree with you. The LeCour family doesn’t belly laugh like the Lane family does, but they smile a lot and often chuckle modestly. They also don’t try to shove French food at Americans on first meeting, so we won’t have snails or fish eggs or fried insects today.”

He shook his head as they walked. “Too bad. Fried cricket is high in protein.”

She smiled. “Yeah, but you better floss before bedtime or you’ll end up spitting out little pieces of leg all night and the next day.”

He kept his smile hidden. “True. All great blessings have drawbacks.”

“Uh-huh. Just keep the jokes to the absolute minimum and we’ll be fine.”

He lifted his right hand in a Boy Scout salute, palm forward with three fingers up together and his little finger held down with his thumb. His hand went down when Bobbie reached out and pressed the doorbell.

A cathedral-like “Bing-bong” rang out sonorously as she stepped back and smoothed her hair. Clark wondered if he had time to get his hair styled before the door opened, and then it did open.

A tall older man stood in the doorway, wearing slacks and a golf shirt. He smiled at Bobbie and said, “Bienvenue, Roberta! Et bienvenue à votre ami également. Veuillez entrer.” (Welcome, Roberta! And welcome to your friend. Please come in.)

Bobbie smiled. “Merci, Étienne. This is my friend Clark Kent.”

Clark smiled and bowed ever so slightly. “Bonsoir, monsieur LeCour. Merci de m'avoir invité dans votre belle maison.” (Good evening, Mr. LeCour. Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home.)

Both Mr. LeCour and Bobbie blinked at him, then the man smiled wider and gestured for them to enter. “You have an excellent accent, Mr. Kent. Have you spent much time in Paris?”

Bobbie broke in. “Yeah, the one in Texas.”

Mr. LeCour chuckled and shut the door behind them. “Ah, yes, the city of Texas lights. I am continually surprised that they have not erected a replica of the Eiffel Tower in their downtown area.”

“I’m sure it would boost tourism there,” Clark answered. “Might even pay for itself pretty quick.”

“No doubt,” the older man said. “I hope you enjoy takeout food, Mr. Kent. Our grandchildren threatened to go on strike unless we served real American pizza this evening. And please, address me as Étienne, as Roberta does.”

“I’m honored, sir. Forgive me, Étienne. Please call me Clark. And yes, I’ve been known to eat pizza. I rarely have to be threatened, in fact.”

Their host clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Excellent! Come, you must meet my wife, the lovely Evonne LeCour. Any praise I might sing of her would pale against the reality of her beauty and grace.”

Bobbie stopped and stared at him. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Étienne LeCour?”

Étienne surprised Clark by laughing aloud. “My dear, we are simply happy that you have met a young man whom you trust. He would not be here had you not believed him worthy of your friendship.”

She nodded. “As long as you understand that friends is all we are.” She waggled her index finger in front of his face. “No matchmaking allowed, understand?”

He laughed again. “Of course not, Roberta. You are, as you always have been, free to make your own choices. Now come, the grandchildren are prepared to assault you once again. Mr. Kent, I hope – oh, now I must ask your forgiveness. Clark, I hope you like playing volleyball. Our six grandchildren are quite competitive.”

“Volleyball, eh?” Clark asked. Étienne nodded. “Before or after dinner?”

The man laughed yet again. “After, I fear. The two of you are surely young and agile enough to prevent yourselves from being embarrassed.”

Before either Bobbie or Clark could respond, a woman’s musical alto said, “My husband, it is rude to monopolize our guests before presenting them to your loving wife.” The woman smiled at them and said, “Greetings, Roberta. I am pleased to see you once again.” She turned to Clark and put her hands on her hips. “And this substantial young man must be the most estimable Clark Kent!” She reached out and grasped his hands in hers. “I am most pleased to meet you. Roberta has told me so much about you.”

Étienne said, “Has she told you that Clark speaks excellent French?”

Evonne’s smile turned quizzical. “No, she has not. Perhaps she was unaware of this talent.” She switched languages. “Est-ce vrai, monsieur Kent?” (Is that true, Mr. Kent?)

“Oui, madame, c'est vrai. Je l'ai surpris avec ça aujourd'hui quand nous sommes arrivés.” (Yes, ma'am, it's true. I surprised her with it today when we arrived.)

A young teenaged girl stuck her head around the corner and called out, “Hey, can we stick with English tonight? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Her grandparents laughed. “Then you should study harder, Nancy,” said Evonne. “Come, Mr. Kent. Dinner is ready to be served.”

Clark let Evonne put her hand through his arm. “Please call me Clark, madame.”

“Then you shall call me Evonne, as Roberta does. I hope you are hungry.”

He put on an exaggerated Texas accent and walked as if he were suddenly bowlegged. “Yes, ma’am, Ah shorely am. Ah think Ah could eat a horse, hooves and bridle and saddle included.”

All the adults except Bobbie laughed. Nancy rolled her eyes and said, “Bobbie, you told me he was nice!”

Bobbie glared at Clark. “I also told him to keep the jokes to a minimum or I’d arrest him. Don’t make me pull out my spare cuffs today, buster.”