Robyn moved between the men.

“He’s a old man, Alfred,” she said. “He sit all day in his house listenin’ to German music and readin’ old papers.”

“He bettah get some news, then,” Alfred said threateningly.

Nina went to Alfred’s side and took his arm.

“We bettah get outta here, Alfie,” the grieving widow and mother said.

But Alfred was not finished staring at the old man.

Ptolemy thought it was funny that a fool like that would try and intimidate him. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid hardly at all.

“Yeah,” Alfred said. “I come to take you and the kids back to your house.”

“Okay,” Nina said. “Come on, babies.”

Arthur and his sister started crying. They didn’t say that they didn’t want to go or even shake their heads. They just cried.

For their daddy, Ptolemy thought.

“Why’ont you let the kids stay here with Big Mama Niecie?” Robyn suggested. “She feed ’em an’ stuff.”

“Do you wanna stay here, Artie? Letisha?”

Arthur nodded and Letisha put her head in her brother’s lap.

“You sure?” Nina asked. “Okay. Mama’s gonna go home and sleep now. She’s tired.”

The baby girl whimpered for her mother but would not leave her brother’s lap. Nina kissed them both on their foreheads and then moved as if she wanted to kiss Robyn. But the younger girl leaned away. Nina played it off, putting her hand on Robyn’s shoulder.

All the while Alfred glared at Ptolemy.

The old man stared back, trying to understand what was happening, what had happened.

Nina turned away from her children and left under the protective arm of the handsome Alfred. Nina glanced back at her children as she went through and past the doorframe. Ptolemy listened to their shoes on the hardwood floor of the hallway.

“Where they goin’?” he asked.

“Who knows?” Robyn said. “You hungry, Arthur?”

“Tisha is.”