“And your parents picked a theme to name their children?” It was time to lighten the atmosphere.
“Beach people,” Fiji said, with a shrug.
“They actually went to Fiji?”
“On their seventh anniversary. Saved for four years. Mom got pregnant with me while they were there.”
“And Waikiki?”
“Third anniversary.”
He choked back a laugh. “Really?”
She tried not to smile. “Really.”
“I never had a sibling—one I knew of, anyway.” Maybe he had six brothers by his unknown father. Just with other women. “But it’s got to be weird to be obliged to stick by someone you didn’t pick as a friend. Or am I crazy?”
He glanced over to see that Fiji looked taken aback.
“I never thought of it that way,” she said slowly. “You have to stick by family, unless they’ve done something truly terrible to you. I know there are families who are sadistic or neglectful. I suspect Olivia’s was.”
Manfred was careful just to nod, because he didn’t want to interrupt the flow of Fiji’s thoughts.
“There’s a bond when you’ve been brought up in the same household together,” she said finally. “Whether you want there to be or not. There are times, growing up, when you get into trouble together. When it’s kids versus parents. I love Kiki, but that love is tempered with . . . a lot of wariness.”
“Interesting,” was all he could think of to say. After they drove a few more miles, he said, “We have to tell everyone about Francine Owens.”
“Yeah,” she said, without enthusiasm. “Maybe you could take care of that?”
Again, Manfred was surprised, and not in a good way. Keeping everyone in town on the same page was a Fiji thing. Something was going on with his friend, something beyond the unexpected arrival of her sister. Cautiously, he said, “There anything you want to talk about?” He half-hoped she’d say there wasn’t.
“I think having my sister turn up, on top of suicides and a suicide attempt, is enough,” she said, after a pause that was just a little too long.
“Okay,” he said, hoping his relief didn’t show. “But you know where I am if you need me.”
The adrenaline that had fueled his great tackle of the about-to-be suicide had long faded, leaving him dragging and dull. Now that they’d gotten rid of this last body (fortunately, still breathing), Manfred found himself longing for his computer and his telephone and his privacy.
“If your sister stays for any length of time, I’ll take you two out to dinner one night,” Manfred offered as Fiji dropped him at his house. “And not at Home Cookin. All the way to Davy, or even Marthasville. I spare no expense!”
“Thanks, Manfred,” she said, sounding surprised. Fiji threw the surprise back over to his side of the fence by giving him a hug.
Manfred knew his return of the hug was a bit awkward, but it was sincere. He was pleased. Unfortunately, as soon as he touched her, he knew what Fiji’s secret was. She had had a falling-out with Bobo—or rather, with her dream of the possibility of a relationship with Bobo. That made him sad, but he was not about to comment on it.
Fiji let go and leaned back in her seat. “Oh, I just remembered!” she said.
“Remembered what?”
“Where I’d seen Francine Owens before.”
“Where was it?”
“The last time I went to the grocery store in Davy. She was ahead of me in line.”
“How can you possibly remember who was ahead of you in line at the grocery store?” Manfred shook his head disbelievingly.
“You’d remember her, too,” Fiji said, though she wasn’t completely sure about that. In her limited experience, men remembered different things than women did, at least sometimes. “She was one of those shoppers who had a coupon for every item. And she asked the cashier about a dozen questions. Like if the second package of napkins had to be the same style as the first one for the coupon to be good.” She’d also waited until the items had been tallied to begin writing a check, which was one of Fiji’s pet peeves. If you’re gonna use a debit card, fine. If you’re gonna write a check, by golly, start filling it out.
If Fiji hadn’t been in a hurry (she couldn’t remember why) she would never have recalled the little incident, which had irritated her quite a bit.
She explained all this to Manfred, who said, “So you disliked her, based on that incident.”
“Well, yeah. Of course, today I just felt sorry for her. But she was definitely on my shit list for about five whole minutes.” Fiji smiled to make sure Manfred understood that being on her “shit list” was not a permanent thing.