He looked at her across the railing that divided their porches. “Would you like to join me for a coffee?”
“I’m hardly dressed for it,” she said. She was wearing a pair of cutoffs and house slippers and a shapeless green T-shirt that hung down past her butt.
“The Greek doesn’t stand on ceremony,” he said. He was hardly dressed better. He hadn’t wanted to go up to the master bedroom and face Mimi, so he’d dressed himself out of the laundry hamper in the basement.
“I don’t have shoes, Alan.”
“You could go in and get some,” he said.
She shook her head.
Her shoulders were tensed, her whole skinny body a cringe.
“We’ll go barefoot and sit on the patio,” he said after a moment, kicking his shoes off.
She looked at him and gave a sad laugh. “Okay.”
The sidewalk was still cool enough for bare feet. The Greek didn’t give their bare feet a second look, but brought iced coffees and yogurt with walnuts and honey.