He folded his arms before him on the table and, by his presence and his very corpulence, seemed to be a man who'd spent many happy hours in that location.

Elaine Grover served them coffee. And a cinnamon cake. Grover took two ample pieces and Elaine offered the rest to their guest.

Thomas declined with a smile.

"No, no, I insist," said Grover, his mouth full and speaking with a voice m.u.f.fled by pastry.

"It's excellent."

Elaine hadn't moved the cake from where she held it for Thomas.

Thomas, rea.s.sessing his decision, took the smallest piece offered.

Grover took another piece as it pa.s.sed by him again and was working on that third piece when he began to speak.

"d.a.m.ned good, isn't it?" he said.

Trying to be sociable, Thomas agreed.

"I'll get you another piece before you leave" Grover said.

"Elaine will wrap it up. You can take it with you." His lips smacked as he spoke, punctuating his sentences.

Grover continued for several minutes, dipping into a monologue on his wife's baking.

"Married, Daniels?" he asked, not waiting for an answer.

"Marry a woman who can cook. A wife's got two jobs to do. Cooking's the other one." He continued, moving on to the comparative merits of the bakeries of lower Manhattan.

"The French think they're the bakers," he postulated between gulps of coffee.

"French don't know c.r.a.p about pastry. Show me a great baker and I'll show you an Italian He allowed himself a satisfied smile. Thomas returned it. Grover was no fool. He'd just admitted who he was, his origins around Mulberry Street.

"How's the city?" he asked.

"I never go there no more ' "It's still there" said Thomas.

"It's a great town," Grover said, as if reminiscing.

"But it's a young man's town, don't you think? I had myself some times there."

He looked over his shoulder to the door to the kitchen. As if on cue, Elaine reappeared with coffee and more cake. Thomas received more without asking.

When Mrs. Grover disappeared again, Thomas spoke, put at ease somewhat by the large man's informality.

"I was afraid I'd have difficulty with you' he said.

"You wouldn't want to admit, you know, who.

"Who I am?, "Yes Grover stretched his expansive shoulders.

"What's there to deny?

I don't shoot my mouth off around this town. But you? You're your father's son. Why would I lie to you? You probably knew more about me than I do myself," he chomped.

"I doubt it' Thomas conceded.

"I'll tell you something' said Grover, leaning forward slightly as if to share a secret.

"I don't say

"I'm sorry' for nothing I ever done.

Nothing" Behind the conspiratorial smile were hard eyes.

"The neighborhood where I grew up was a cesspool of robbing and stealing and knifing. I done what I did to get out of it."

"I'm sure you did," said Thomas, anxious to strike a point of agreement. And equally anxious to move on to more pressing matters.

"I'll bet you would have done the same' ' Thomas shrugged, without indication either way.

"You wouldn't have?"

"I don't know. I wasn't in your situation. A man never knows what he'll do in a situation until he's in it." A good response, Daniels congratulated himself. He was certain now that the cagey Grover was trying to manipulate the conversation.

"Good point' allowed Grover. He nodded in thought.

"Your Dad used to say similar. What was it?"

"I'm not sure' "Have some more cake" he said with a rising laugh.

"How many times do you live?"

"That's hard to say."

"Excuse me?"

'Some people manage to lead two lives," Thomas suggested.

"Yourself, for example. Take that as a compliment." Grover nodded gratefully.

"Maybe some other people, too."

"You're losing me" said Grover curtly, the wide grin gone.

"Really? It concerns you. Indirectly."

"I'm surprised that there's still anything that could concern me he said, obvious annoyance beneath his flat tone of voice. He was licking his fingers, making soft smacking sounds, then with slight nervousness working on a thumbnail with his teeth.