When Solomon arrived Horst was out, picking up champagne. Any tension that might have dominated things was set aside by his excited observation: “He went for it! The delivery guy, Henderson. How did you know?”
I shrugged. “I just had the impression that he really loved Quentin. He didn’t want to hurt him, not really. He just made a mistake, and I guess he wants to do the right thing: penance if you like.”
“Wow!” Sam said. “You really get people.”
I grinned and said in a pseudo-Bogart voice, “Well, stick with me, kid, and you’ll learn plenty.”
To my surprise, Sam didn’t smile. Instead his eyes widened and they began to glisten with unshed tears. He seemed almost fearful, shy.
“I—I’d like to, Ian. If that’s okay with you.”
I stared at him for a second before it hit me. Then I became sh
