Loco Motive by Mary Daheim

his French-Canadian joual accent, “you see more in the dark. Shapes, forms, how sky and earth mingle. The rain is not so good, but it has stopped now.”
    Gauthier fils darted an amused look at his father. “Papa has eyes like a cat,” he said with only a faint accent. “I’d rather see things in daylight.”
    The father gave the son an indulgent look. “The young—so literal. We must humor them, eh? Our accommodations are most agreeable, madame. Merci et bon soir .” He sketched a little bow.
    The pair went upstairs. Judith locked the door and returned to the kitchen. It was ten-thirty, but not too late to call Renie, who was a night owl.
    â€œOh, good grief!” Renie exclaimed after Judith finished her recap of the situation with Mike’s family. “You get rid of one pain in the butt with Willie and then you end up in another mess. You really need to get out of town. It’s too bad we can’t leave now.”
    â€œCan Bill take us to the train a bit later?” Judith asked. “It’s a ten-minute drive to the station, and on a Sunday there shouldn’t be much downtown traffic.”
    Renie didn’t answer right away. “Well…Bill’s gone to bed, so I can’t mention it tonight. He’s like his brother, Bub. They insist on leaving an hour earlier than any normal person would because they want to make sure they have a seat, a pew, a parking place, a…whatever. It’s got to be a Midwestern thing. I don’t think either of them changed their watches after they moved here forty-odd years ago. Or,” she added musingly, “do I mean daylight savings time? I hate the idea so much that I try not to think about it. What’s the point?” Her voice grew angry—and loud. “What the hell are we saving the daylight for ?”
    Judith never understood her cousin’s opposition to the concept, except as an example of Renie’s contrary nature. “Relax,” she urged. “We change back in the wee small hours Sunday.”
    â€œHmm. That gives me an idea.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNever mind,” Renie said. “It involves math. I’ll figure it out by Sunday.”
    â€œI need answers now,” Judith insisted. “What do I tell the kids?”
    â€œNothing. Don’t expend energy making up one of your convoluted lies.”
    â€œFibs,” Judith snapped. “I don’t lie. I only tell fibs in a good cause.”
    â€œYou just told another one.” Renie sounded impatient with her cousin’s attitude toward deception. “Don’t say anything. Yet.”
    There was no choice but to reluctantly agree. Renie might be older, but that didn’t mean she was wiser. Besides, Judith admitted to herself as she slowly climbed the stairs, keeping quiet was easier than blurting out the truth.
    When she reached the third-floor family quarters, she paused as she often did to rest her hip and take a deep breath. All was quiet in Mike’s old room and the den. Joe, however, was still awake and reading a book by one of his favorite crime caper authors. He paused as Judith entered the bedroom. “I should never have tried to watch that Weevil movie,” he said. “It’s a good cure for insomnia. I must’ve dozed off for almost an hour, so now I don’t feel sleepy.”
    â€œI do,” Judith replied. “I’m suffering from a moral dilemma. Have you mentioned our Boston trip to Mike or Kristin?”
    â€œOnly that I’m heading back there next week,” Joe said. “I knew you were in a pickle, so I didn’t mention your plans.” His green eyes twinkled. “I’m anxious to hear how you plan to wiggle off the hook on this one.”
    â€œI’m not,” Judith retorted. “Renie’s handling it.”
    â€œOh God!” Joe flung an arm across his forehead. “That’s worse than your