* * * *
That Saturday she went shopping with Judi for the second time. Paul groused, “You spent the morning working and the afternoon with my kid sister.” The first was a familiar complaint, but she suspected her growing friendship with his sister pleased him.
She and Judi found a wonderful dress for the upcoming college formal, and after Judi returned to campus, Bette and Paul occupied the evening by making up for the time apart.
She finally got around to wearing the royal-blue negligee. He took it off her without ripping it. Barely.
The next day, he surprised her by insisting she accompany him to dinner at Mama Artemis’s home. Surely he had to realize how people like Ardith and her family would construe his bringing her along . . .
If he hadn’t before, he must by now, she thought as she headed into the huge, old-fashioned kitchen to volunteer to help. The greeting had been warm, interested and arch. In the few minutes from their entrance until Ardith’s nephews snared Paul to look at something in the basement, Ardith, her mother, her sister-in-law and even her teenage niece had made it clear they considered Bette and Paul an “item.” Their bluntness had made her feel a little uncomfortable. Since she’d been too chicken to look at him, she could only imagine how it had made Paul feel—probably like running.
Mama Artemis—a grayer, rounder, no less forceful version of Ardith—and the others shooed her out of the kitchen, where bustling seemed to be the only mode of movement. She was a guest, she was told, she was not to work. It was just as well. Not only wouldn’t she have known what to do, she didn’t think she could have kept up.
She tracked down Paul and Ardith’s two young nephews in the basement. They were making enough noise that they didn’t hear her coming down the wooden stairs. When she got far enough to see them, she sat on the steps and watched.
Taking up nearly half the neat basement, they had a huge, complicated track circling the edges of the biggest piece of plywood she’d ever seen, raised to waist-level by several sawhorses. In addition to the main route, there were smaller loops and shunts. Around the tangle of tracks grew a tidy, thriving community. The downtown sported a railroad station, of course, along with houses, shops, churches and schools. On the outskirts she spotted a few farms.
Amid this imaginary world, Paul Monroe played with as much verve as the two young boys.
Her lips lifted into a smile, but she denied the simultaneous urge to cry. He truly was a kid at heart.
She was very quiet the rest of the night.