Clay said with a smile that Alma Vonn was lucky she’d never have to see the rest of her family and he didn’t want to, either.
Monika Becker said Clay had the face of a movie star and the soul of a devil and Clay smiled.
Nick said why not-the Vonn brothers had all moved out. It was just the girls and the dad.
Andy thought it was a great idea but he didn’t say why.
“Decided,” said Mr. Becker. “David, you make the call. Do it in person, not over the phone.”
Half an hour later the Studebaker rolled back into the Becker driveway. David strode into the house to say that Karl Vonn and he had prayed together. To David’s great relief and surprise Mr. Vonn had then accepted the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. He and the girls would come early afternoon, because the Beckers liked their turkey early.
“Don’t you say one word,” Mrs. Becker said to Clay.
ANDY WAS thrilled to silence at being seated across from Karl Vonn. Andy could feel the heat of life and death and heartbreak and suicide coming off the man. Like he’d just come back from a spectacular battle. But Andy couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t seem impolite or just dumb, so he studied Karl Vonn’s ears and outdated clothing while Meredith made easy conversation with him. Karl told her about the “seemingly never-endin’” ride on the Sunset Limited that had brought his family of seven across the state of Texas to California.
“I love Union Station in Los Angeles,” said Meredith.
“Oh, the tile on that floor’s nice,” said Karl Vonn.
Andy drank another glass of wine while Nick talked a little about the Orange County jail, where he worked days. Nick still wasn’t much of a talker, but he said the jail was getting too small. The way the county was growing they’d need a bigger one soon. Either that or you let inmates out early to make room for new ones, which wasn’t exactly what the people expected when they sent somebody to jail. To Andy, Nick wasn’t God anymore, but Andy still liked his big brother’s good face and muscles and the calm sarcasm of his mind.