There was a dark hilarity in his face, and perhaps in his heart, too, you would think — and you would be right. It was the face of a hatefully happy man, a face that radiated a horrible handsome warmth, a face to make water glasses shatter in the hands of tired truck-stop waitresses, to make small children crash their trikes into board fences and then run wailing to their mommies with stake-shaped splinters sticking out of their knees. It was a face guaranteed to make barroom arguments over batting averages turn bloody.
I'm almost done with Song of Susannah, probably tonight (Susannah/Detta/Mia are about to have the kid) and will be moving on to the final book shortly. I've flown through the series in the last couple of months. Gripping stuff.
Let us know!