Local Hero

in a macrame holder in the single window. She had less space than he did, which he thought was too bad. She would probably make better use of the kitchen than he. He took another glance around before settling at the counter. Stuck to the refrigerator was a large crayon drawing of a spaceship. “You do that?” Mitch asked Rad.
    “Yeah.” He picked up the pizza his mother had set on his plate and bit in eagerly—peanut butter and jelly long since forgotten.
    “It’s good.”
    “It’s supposed to be the
Second Millennium
, that’s Commander Zark’s ship.”
    “I know.” Mitch took a healthy bite of his own slice. “You did a good job.”
    As he plowed through his pizza, Radley took it for granted that Mitch would recognize Zark’s name and mode of transportation. As far as he was concerned, everybody did. “I’ve been trying to do the
Defiance
, Leilah’s ship, but it’s harder. Anyway, I think Commander Zark might blow it up in the next issue.”
    “Think so?” Mitch gave Hester an easy smile as she joined them at the counter.
    “I don’t know, he’s in a pretty tough spot right now.”
    “He’ll get out okay.”
    “Do you read comic books?” Hester asked. It wasn’t until she sat down that she noticed how large his hands were. He might have been dressed with disregard, but his hands were clean and had the look of easy competence.
    “All the time.”
    “I’ve got the biggest collection of all my friends. Mom got me the very first issue with Commander Zark in it for Christmas. It’s ten years old. He was only a captain then. Want to see?”
    The boy was a gem, Mitch thought, sweet, bright and unaffected. He’d have to reserve judgment on the mother. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
    Before Hester could tell him to finish his dinner, Radley was off and running. She sat in silence a moment, wondering what sort of man actually read comic books. Oh, she paged through them from time to time to keep a handle on what her son was consuming, but to actually read them? An adult?
    “Terrific kid.”
    “Yes, he is. It’s nice of you to . . . listen to him talk about his comics.”
    “Comics are my life,” Mitch said, straight-faced.
    Her reserve broke down long enough for her to stare at him. Clearing her throat, Hester went back to her meal. “I see.”
    Mitch put his tongue in his cheek. She was some piece of work, all right, he decided. First meeting or not, he saw no reason to resist egging her on. “I take it you don’t.”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Read comic books.”
    “No, I, ah, don’t have a lot of time for light reading.” She rolled her eyes, unaware that that was where Radley had picked up the habit. “Would you like another piece?”
    “Yeah.” He helped himself before she could serve him. “You ought to take some time, you know. Comics can be very educational. What’s the new job?”
    “Oh, I’m in banking. I’m the loan officer for National Trust.”
    Mitch gave an appreciative whistle. “Big job for someone your age.”
    Hester stiffened automatically. “I’ve been in banking since I was sixteen.”
    Touchy, too, he mused as he licked sauce from his thumb. “That was supposed to be a compliment. I have a feeling you don’t take them well.” Tough lady, he decided, then thought perhaps she’d had to be. There was no ring on her finger, not even the faintest white mark to show there had been one recently. “I’ve done some business with banks myself. You know, deposits, withdrawals, returned checks.”
    She shifted uncomfortably, wondering what was taking Radley so long. There was something unnerving about being alone with this man. Though she had always felt comfortable with eye contact, she was having a difficult time with Mitch. He never looked away for very long.
    “I didn’t mean to be abrupt.”
    “No, I don’t suppose you did. If I wanted a loan at National Trust, who would I ask for?”
    “Mrs. Wallace.”
    Definitely a tough one. “Mrs. is your first name?”
    “Hester,” she said, not understanding why she resented giving him that much.
    “Hester, then.” Mitch offered a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
    Her lips curved a bit. It was a cautious smile, Mitch thought, but better than none at all. “I’m sorry if I’ve been rude, but it’s been a long day. A long week, really.”
    “I hate moving.” He waited until she’d unbent enough to put her hand in his. Hers was cool and as slender as the rest of her. “Got anyone to help