you
can tell Zack to call me there."
"Where would you go?" Mary asked.
"I don't want to go anywhere, not really, but I don't
want to be any trouble."
"You're not any trouble. I just don't know what to do
for dinner. Carl's working some overtime at the plant. I should cook something
he can heat up later." Mary was frowning faintly.
"Don't you have any leftovers? Something to make a
sandwich with? It's too hot to cook."
Mary smiled faintly. "Peanut butter and jelly. Canned
tuna. I don't know."
"Both of those sound good," Diana suggested. "If you don't mind
company for dinner."
"But what will Carl eat when he gets home?" Mary
asked, looking around for her glass of orange juice.
"I don't know," Diana said. "We can make him
a sandwich, he can heat up some soup if he wants. If it cools off later."
"I like to make a meal for him," Mary said a
little sternly.
"Okay, but you don't have to make a meal for me. I
don't want to cause trouble."
"You're not causing any trouble. It's that Mr. White. Who
does he think he is?"
"Now, Mary, he's "Mr. White" so obviously we
should do whatever he says."
Mary giggled. It did sound odd, but Diana thought that's the
way the man seemed to think.
"Do me a favor, Mary?" she said.
"What's that?" Mary shifted a little.
"Sit down. You look so tired."
"I'm afraid to stop. I'll fall asleep."
"Does the word 'nap' mean anything to you?"
"I don't want to sleep while you're here."
"Okay, but I wish you'd sit down. Tell me what you want
to do for dinner and I'll make dinner. I mean, if you don't have a problem with
another woman in your kitchen."
"Not with you. I suppose if my mother showed up and
started wiping counters I'd have a problem with that." Mary crossed the
small kitchen and settled into the chair opposite Diana.
"Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. I promise not to
start wiping up your counters. Besides, they're very clean."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Diana."
"What for?"
"Carl told me that you've always been the one to do the
cooking and the cleaning up."
"That's because he and Robin never wanted to do the
dishes. Because I couldn't stand coming down in the morning to a dirty
kitchen." Diana stood up. Peanut butter or tuna? The peanut butter sounded
a little decadent. She hadn't had any in ages.
"I never thought about a dirty kitchen when I was
growing up," Mary said. "My mother did all that."
Mary, Diana thought, was so normal and I'm not .
"Sometimes I envy you, Mary." She pulled down a plate from the
cabinet and got some bread out of the bread box.
"Sometimes I don't know how I'll live up to you,"
Mary said, mumbling.
"Live up to me?" Diana stopped on her way to the
refrigerator.
"Carl adores you. He says if you hadn't done what you
did, you would have all had to go live with relatives in Illinois."
Separate relatives in Illinois . None of the
relatives wanted to take all three of us. It was too much, that was the
consensus . "As it was, we had to live with our dear, dotty old
grandmother. Where do you keep the peanut butter and jelly, Mary?"
"In the cupboard, right there. But you all got to stay together. You got
to stay in town, too, the place you grew up."
"That's true. But sometimes I wonder if Carl wouldn't
have been happier if he could have gone to Uncle Melvin's, worked on the farm,
ran around with a bunch of his cousins." All of whom were big louts like
him. It would have been a little like a fraternity, Diana suspected. She found
the peanut butter and some blueberry jelly and put it on the counter.
"Maybe," Mary conceded. "But would he have
come back to town for me? I'm glad you kept him here."
She wanted to make a glib answer, but Diana saw the emotion
on Mary's face. "I don't know, Mary. I know he loves you. You can drive
yourself crazy thinking things like that."
"I guess so," Mary said slowly.
For example , she thought, then spoke the thought out
loud. "I was thinking the other day about Robin. If Robin had married
Zack, left town, would she have died in a car
can tell Zack to call me there."
"Where would you go?" Mary asked.
"I don't want to go anywhere, not really, but I don't
want to be any trouble."
"You're not any trouble. I just don't know what to do
for dinner. Carl's working some overtime at the plant. I should cook something
he can heat up later." Mary was frowning faintly.
"Don't you have any leftovers? Something to make a
sandwich with? It's too hot to cook."
Mary smiled faintly. "Peanut butter and jelly. Canned
tuna. I don't know."
"Both of those sound good," Diana suggested. "If you don't mind
company for dinner."
"But what will Carl eat when he gets home?" Mary
asked, looking around for her glass of orange juice.
"I don't know," Diana said. "We can make him
a sandwich, he can heat up some soup if he wants. If it cools off later."
"I like to make a meal for him," Mary said a
little sternly.
"Okay, but you don't have to make a meal for me. I
don't want to cause trouble."
"You're not causing any trouble. It's that Mr. White. Who
does he think he is?"
"Now, Mary, he's "Mr. White" so obviously we
should do whatever he says."
Mary giggled. It did sound odd, but Diana thought that's the
way the man seemed to think.
"Do me a favor, Mary?" she said.
"What's that?" Mary shifted a little.
"Sit down. You look so tired."
"I'm afraid to stop. I'll fall asleep."
"Does the word 'nap' mean anything to you?"
"I don't want to sleep while you're here."
"Okay, but I wish you'd sit down. Tell me what you want
to do for dinner and I'll make dinner. I mean, if you don't have a problem with
another woman in your kitchen."
"Not with you. I suppose if my mother showed up and
started wiping counters I'd have a problem with that." Mary crossed the
small kitchen and settled into the chair opposite Diana.
"Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. I promise not to
start wiping up your counters. Besides, they're very clean."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Diana."
"What for?"
"Carl told me that you've always been the one to do the
cooking and the cleaning up."
"That's because he and Robin never wanted to do the
dishes. Because I couldn't stand coming down in the morning to a dirty
kitchen." Diana stood up. Peanut butter or tuna? The peanut butter sounded
a little decadent. She hadn't had any in ages.
"I never thought about a dirty kitchen when I was
growing up," Mary said. "My mother did all that."
Mary, Diana thought, was so normal and I'm not .
"Sometimes I envy you, Mary." She pulled down a plate from the
cabinet and got some bread out of the bread box.
"Sometimes I don't know how I'll live up to you,"
Mary said, mumbling.
"Live up to me?" Diana stopped on her way to the
refrigerator.
"Carl adores you. He says if you hadn't done what you
did, you would have all had to go live with relatives in Illinois."
Separate relatives in Illinois . None of the
relatives wanted to take all three of us. It was too much, that was the
consensus . "As it was, we had to live with our dear, dotty old
grandmother. Where do you keep the peanut butter and jelly, Mary?"
"In the cupboard, right there. But you all got to stay together. You got
to stay in town, too, the place you grew up."
"That's true. But sometimes I wonder if Carl wouldn't
have been happier if he could have gone to Uncle Melvin's, worked on the farm,
ran around with a bunch of his cousins." All of whom were big louts like
him. It would have been a little like a fraternity, Diana suspected. She found
the peanut butter and some blueberry jelly and put it on the counter.
"Maybe," Mary conceded. "But would he have
come back to town for me? I'm glad you kept him here."
She wanted to make a glib answer, but Diana saw the emotion
on Mary's face. "I don't know, Mary. I know he loves you. You can drive
yourself crazy thinking things like that."
"I guess so," Mary said slowly.
For example , she thought, then spoke the thought out
loud. "I was thinking the other day about Robin. If Robin had married
Zack, left town, would she have died in a car
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