crap will kill you, dear. It's the bubbles—they're poison, I swear. Whiskey is much better for you, believe me.” And Beth thought her sagging old face looked crafty and pleased with itself—or was it just the effort of trying to figure the two young women out?
Beth rose to go, throwing her coat over her shoulders.
"Oh, wait!” Vega pleaded. “Wait a little while. I'll make some dinner for us.” She put a hand on Beth's arm and this time it didn't bother Beth at all. Or rather, the bothersome sensation was welcome; it was all pleasure. They smiled at each other and Beth felt herself on the verge of giving in. She felt at the same time a warmth in Vega that she hadn't suspected.
"Stay and have some dinner with us, Beth,” Mrs. Purvis said genially. “Vega's a lousy cook unless she has company to fix for. The damn pussies eat better than we do."
"They're healthier, too,” Gramp interposed.
Beth looked at her watch. It was past six o'clock, which struck her funny. “I can't, thanks,” she said. “My kids, my husband—"
"Can't he cook?” exclaimed Mrs. Purvis. “Hell, I used to make the doctor sling his own hash three or four times a week. And we were sublimely happy."
But what happened? Beth wondered. Your family split up and—went all to hell. Everyone but Cleve, and even Cleve drinks too much. Charlie gripes about it.
"Charlie can boil water,” she said, “but that's all. It's past dinnertime now.” She adjusted her coat and headed for the door.
Vega scooped up a couple of mewing cats from the couch and followed her, balancing her drink precariously at the same time.
"Tell her to stay for dinner, Cramp,” Mrs. Purvis said.
"Canned cat food. The finest,” he offered with a grin.
But Beth suddenly felt the need to escape, and Vega, seeing it, took her hand and led her outdoors. “That's enough, you two,” she called back to her family. “Don't scare her off!"
Beth turned and looked at Vega one last time before she left She felt giddy and silly and she was aware that there was a smile on her face, a smile that wouldn't go away. “Thanks, Vega,” she said.
"You know, you don't need modeling lessons, Beth,” Vega said slowly, as if it were something they had a tacit understanding about. “I like the way you walk. It's not quite right for modeling—too free swinging—but I wouldn't change it for anything, even if I could. It would ruin you—the lovely effect you make."
Beth stammered at her, unable to answer coherently, only aware that she was deeply flattered.
"Tell Charlie you had a first-rate lesson,” Vega went on. ‘Tell him you walked three miles back and forth in a straight line and you learned how to treat your hair with olive oil. Tell him anything, only come back on Friday."
Beth, smiling and mystified and pleased, said softly, “I will."
Chapter Six
SHE DROVE HOME like a punch-drunk novice, laughing at the panic she caused and feeling light, giddy, peculiarly happy in a way that almost seemed familiar. She was unable even to feel guilty when she got home and found that Charlie had had to feed the kids and was waiting with stubborn hungry impatience for her to feed him.
She did her chores with a smile. Everything seemed easy. Even the children. The bedtime routine charmed her, the way it would have if she had to go through it only once or twice a year. She put her arms around her children and cuddled them, to their surprise. And Charlie, who was ready to bite her head off when she came in, traded his wrath for astonished love two hours later.
It did something to Beth to be in the company of a desirable woman, a woman whose interest was obviously reciprocal, and the first thing it did was make her happy. Her kids reflected the lighter mood gratefully and innocently, but Charlie ... Charlie wondered where it came from and, knowing his wife, he worried.
Beth was surprised two days later when Cleve Purvis called her. She had been in a state of wonderful tickling
Beth rose to go, throwing her coat over her shoulders.
"Oh, wait!” Vega pleaded. “Wait a little while. I'll make some dinner for us.” She put a hand on Beth's arm and this time it didn't bother Beth at all. Or rather, the bothersome sensation was welcome; it was all pleasure. They smiled at each other and Beth felt herself on the verge of giving in. She felt at the same time a warmth in Vega that she hadn't suspected.
"Stay and have some dinner with us, Beth,” Mrs. Purvis said genially. “Vega's a lousy cook unless she has company to fix for. The damn pussies eat better than we do."
"They're healthier, too,” Gramp interposed.
Beth looked at her watch. It was past six o'clock, which struck her funny. “I can't, thanks,” she said. “My kids, my husband—"
"Can't he cook?” exclaimed Mrs. Purvis. “Hell, I used to make the doctor sling his own hash three or four times a week. And we were sublimely happy."
But what happened? Beth wondered. Your family split up and—went all to hell. Everyone but Cleve, and even Cleve drinks too much. Charlie gripes about it.
"Charlie can boil water,” she said, “but that's all. It's past dinnertime now.” She adjusted her coat and headed for the door.
Vega scooped up a couple of mewing cats from the couch and followed her, balancing her drink precariously at the same time.
"Tell her to stay for dinner, Cramp,” Mrs. Purvis said.
"Canned cat food. The finest,” he offered with a grin.
But Beth suddenly felt the need to escape, and Vega, seeing it, took her hand and led her outdoors. “That's enough, you two,” she called back to her family. “Don't scare her off!"
Beth turned and looked at Vega one last time before she left She felt giddy and silly and she was aware that there was a smile on her face, a smile that wouldn't go away. “Thanks, Vega,” she said.
"You know, you don't need modeling lessons, Beth,” Vega said slowly, as if it were something they had a tacit understanding about. “I like the way you walk. It's not quite right for modeling—too free swinging—but I wouldn't change it for anything, even if I could. It would ruin you—the lovely effect you make."
Beth stammered at her, unable to answer coherently, only aware that she was deeply flattered.
"Tell Charlie you had a first-rate lesson,” Vega went on. ‘Tell him you walked three miles back and forth in a straight line and you learned how to treat your hair with olive oil. Tell him anything, only come back on Friday."
Beth, smiling and mystified and pleased, said softly, “I will."
Chapter Six
SHE DROVE HOME like a punch-drunk novice, laughing at the panic she caused and feeling light, giddy, peculiarly happy in a way that almost seemed familiar. She was unable even to feel guilty when she got home and found that Charlie had had to feed the kids and was waiting with stubborn hungry impatience for her to feed him.
She did her chores with a smile. Everything seemed easy. Even the children. The bedtime routine charmed her, the way it would have if she had to go through it only once or twice a year. She put her arms around her children and cuddled them, to their surprise. And Charlie, who was ready to bite her head off when she came in, traded his wrath for astonished love two hours later.
It did something to Beth to be in the company of a desirable woman, a woman whose interest was obviously reciprocal, and the first thing it did was make her happy. Her kids reflected the lighter mood gratefully and innocently, but Charlie ... Charlie wondered where it came from and, knowing his wife, he worried.
Beth was surprised two days later when Cleve Purvis called her. She had been in a state of wonderful tickling
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