“You're not leaving already?”

“I'm afraid I have to. I have the evening Mass, with a baptism. The family requested me, so I have to get back to St. 's and prepare. But I can't think of a nicer way to have spent the afternoon.”

“I'll drive you,” Eve said.

“That's kind of you.” He looked at her — warm brown eyes that to her mind always held a lingering hint of sadness. “But I couldn't take you away from your guests.”

“No problem. They're focused on food, and dessert's coming up.”

He continued to look at her, to search, and she knew he saw something as he nodded. “I'd appreciate it.”

“Why don't you take this?” Roarke handed Eve the platter. “Set it out, and I'll have Summerset box up some of the desserts for Chale.”

“You'd make me a hero in the rectory tonight. I'll just say my good-byes then.”

“Thanks,” Eve said when Lopez moved back to the party. “There's just a couple of things I wanted his take on. It won't take long.”

“Go ahead then. I'll have your vehicle brought around.”

She wasn't sure how to approach it, or even why she felt the need to. But he made it easy for her — maybe that's what men like Lopez did.

“You want to ask me about Li,” he began as she passed through the gates.

“Yeah, for one thing. I see Morris mostly over dead bodies, but I can get a sense of where he is. Just by wardrobe for a start. I know he's coming through it, but . . . ”

“It's hard to watch a friend grieve. I can't tell you specifics, as some of what we've talked about was in confidence. He's a strong and spiritual man, one who — like you — lives with death.”

“It helps — the work. I can see it,” Eve said, “and he's said it does.”

“Yes, tending to those whose lives have been taken, like his Amaryllis. It centers him. He misses her, misses the potential of what they might have made together. I can tell you most of his anger has passed. It's a start.”