their eyes suddenly opened to the wary protection of their own mothers, their minds already calculating future enforcement of the dating rules they’d so hated.
“I didn’t have time to go out much,” I replied.
I answered more questions and posed a few polite ones of my own. Miss Estelle and my aunt took turns surreptitiously watching a clock hanging over the mantel as the hands inched toward noon.
“My, it’s lunch time,” Aunt Eva finally burst. “Where is that Thomas? Got me worried sick, bein’ gone so long.”
“I’m beginning to wonder myself,” Mr. Matthews replied.
“Well, at least your family wouldn’t be touched by a strike.”
Aunt Eva patted her hair distractedly. “I can’t stand to think a Frank in the middle of it.”
“Of course we’d be affected.” Miss Estelle’s tone held an edge. “You think Dad would keep out of it, with his grandiosity? Look at him already.”
“Thomas has a good head on his shoulders,” William put in mildly. “He’d know what to do.”
Miss Estelle closed her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Well, there
won’t
be a strike,” Aunt Eva insisted, waving an arm. “God forgive the first man who even spoke the word. Imagine what could happen to this town. Men fightin’, families without a paycheck. It would be awful, just awful. I can hardly sleep at night, thinkin’ ‘bout it.” She craned her neck, looking through the front window. “Where is that man, anyway?”
Not until we were nearly finished eating did Thomas return, the tires of his son-in-law’s car crunching over loose pebbles in the driveway. He mounted the back stairs and entered the kitchen wearily, removing his brown felt hat to run stubby fingers through his white hair. Our questions were silent, displayed in Miss Estelle’s worried eyes, the halt of a sandwich halfway to Aunt Eva’s mouth. He nodded at me and winked but did not smile. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he swiped at his forehead with an arm.
“Got any more a that iced tea?”
“Sure, Dad, I’ll get it.” Miss Estelle moved with efficient grace.
Thomas took his time pulling out a chair, its wooden legs softly scraping across the linoleum floor. He swigged the tea, placed his glass on the table with a
click
. “Well.” He stuck his tongue between his teeth and upper lip. “Riddum said, ‘No.’”
chapter 9
I shot you; you’re dead!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Hush up you two, you’ll wake up yer little sister. Go outside and kill each other in the yard.”
“Yessir.”
Two small pairs of boot-clad feet rat-tatted across the bare wood floor and down the porch steps. “Lord love ‘em,” their father whispered to himself, turning his beefy face toward the clock. A fly buzzed his head, and he swatted at it with impatience, registering the clink of dishes as his young wife cleaned up after lunch. One-twenty and no word yet. He shot a disapproving look at the telephone as if it were to blame, and, by providence, it rang. Crossing the room in four strides, he snatched up the receiver. Sounds from the kitchen ceased
.
“Yeah.”
“Riddum said no deal.”
His lips exploded air. “Why?”
“Said the money ain’t there; he cain’t spend what he ain’t got.”
“He ain’t got it ‘cause it’s sittin’ in that fancy new porch a his.”
“Yep.” The voice on the line was heavy. “Lee said Thomas just called; he’s been out there all this time.”
The man glanced up to see his wife standing in the doorway, hands bunching her apron. “Oh, Lord,” he breathed, “what’re we gonna do now.”
chapter 10
T he specter of bad news dangling from her like the handbag over her arm, Aunt Eva was undeterred from her plans for our next visit. Uncle Frank had not returned from Albertsville, this determined by her placing a phone call home. “We’d better go ahead and see the Hardings,” she said grimly, pulling her car away from the Matthews’s house. “They’ll
“I didn’t have time to go out much,” I replied.
I answered more questions and posed a few polite ones of my own. Miss Estelle and my aunt took turns surreptitiously watching a clock hanging over the mantel as the hands inched toward noon.
“My, it’s lunch time,” Aunt Eva finally burst. “Where is that Thomas? Got me worried sick, bein’ gone so long.”
“I’m beginning to wonder myself,” Mr. Matthews replied.
“Well, at least your family wouldn’t be touched by a strike.”
Aunt Eva patted her hair distractedly. “I can’t stand to think a Frank in the middle of it.”
“Of course we’d be affected.” Miss Estelle’s tone held an edge. “You think Dad would keep out of it, with his grandiosity? Look at him already.”
“Thomas has a good head on his shoulders,” William put in mildly. “He’d know what to do.”
Miss Estelle closed her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Well, there
won’t
be a strike,” Aunt Eva insisted, waving an arm. “God forgive the first man who even spoke the word. Imagine what could happen to this town. Men fightin’, families without a paycheck. It would be awful, just awful. I can hardly sleep at night, thinkin’ ‘bout it.” She craned her neck, looking through the front window. “Where is that man, anyway?”
Not until we were nearly finished eating did Thomas return, the tires of his son-in-law’s car crunching over loose pebbles in the driveway. He mounted the back stairs and entered the kitchen wearily, removing his brown felt hat to run stubby fingers through his white hair. Our questions were silent, displayed in Miss Estelle’s worried eyes, the halt of a sandwich halfway to Aunt Eva’s mouth. He nodded at me and winked but did not smile. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he swiped at his forehead with an arm.
“Got any more a that iced tea?”
“Sure, Dad, I’ll get it.” Miss Estelle moved with efficient grace.
Thomas took his time pulling out a chair, its wooden legs softly scraping across the linoleum floor. He swigged the tea, placed his glass on the table with a
click
. “Well.” He stuck his tongue between his teeth and upper lip. “Riddum said, ‘No.’”
chapter 9
I shot you; you’re dead!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Hush up you two, you’ll wake up yer little sister. Go outside and kill each other in the yard.”
“Yessir.”
Two small pairs of boot-clad feet rat-tatted across the bare wood floor and down the porch steps. “Lord love ‘em,” their father whispered to himself, turning his beefy face toward the clock. A fly buzzed his head, and he swatted at it with impatience, registering the clink of dishes as his young wife cleaned up after lunch. One-twenty and no word yet. He shot a disapproving look at the telephone as if it were to blame, and, by providence, it rang. Crossing the room in four strides, he snatched up the receiver. Sounds from the kitchen ceased
.
“Yeah.”
“Riddum said no deal.”
His lips exploded air. “Why?”
“Said the money ain’t there; he cain’t spend what he ain’t got.”
“He ain’t got it ‘cause it’s sittin’ in that fancy new porch a his.”
“Yep.” The voice on the line was heavy. “Lee said Thomas just called; he’s been out there all this time.”
The man glanced up to see his wife standing in the doorway, hands bunching her apron. “Oh, Lord,” he breathed, “what’re we gonna do now.”
chapter 10
T he specter of bad news dangling from her like the handbag over her arm, Aunt Eva was undeterred from her plans for our next visit. Uncle Frank had not returned from Albertsville, this determined by her placing a phone call home. “We’d better go ahead and see the Hardings,” she said grimly, pulling her car away from the Matthews’s house. “They’ll
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