"Thanks!" She pulled out a chair and sat at the table. She poured milk into her cup, then took a long, slurpy sip. "Hey! Don't forget your toast." She pointed to the toaster. After each sip she added more milk. "What do you put, b.u.t.ter on your toast? Or jelly?" Sip. "I like both." Sip. "Actually, I like everything." Sip. "I don't care, I'll, like, try anything." Sip. "I'm, like, always hungry." Sip. "Sometimes my mother says, 'I think you got worms, you must-n.o.body can eat that much food and be so skinny.' " Sip. The cup was filled with milk. "You gonna eat that toast?"

"In a minute." Determined to outwait her, he wet the sponge and wiped off the countertop.

"If you don't want it, I'll eat it." Her eyes fixed on his with a hard swallow. "But can you pop it down for a minute?" she asked as he started to take it out. "That way the b.u.t.ter'll melt. I love this house, it's so nice. Where I live it's just like n.o.body gives a s.h.i.t, oops, sorry, but you know what I mean? The landlord, all he cares about is his rent." Her voice grated like the sc.r.a.pe of the b.u.t.ter knife on the dry toast. "We're gonna move. I'm not sure when. But pretty soon. We were gonna move in with JumJum, but then that turned to s.h.i.t, I mean, like, well, you know what I mean. Thanks!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed a slice before the plate was even on the table. "The problem is, we only got one bedroom. I hate that. My mother's like this wicked loud snorer. Could I have another piece?" she asked, licking her fingertips and leaning close to the dish as she pressed them into the crumbs. "I'm not getting on your nerves, am I?" she said as he gave her the second slice. "My mother says I'm a pain in the a.s.s I talk so much, but I can't help it. I don't like quiet all the time. I mean, it's like there's nothing there, you know what I mean?"

"Actually, I like things to be quiet," he said as deliberately as he could.

"Whoa! Well, I guess I better go, then." She stuffed the rest of the toast into her mouth and headed for the door.

He'd played this out in his head a thousand times, and now he was finally dialing the number. He winced with each ring. He had everything planned. Dinner at the Yellow Brick Inn, which he'd overheard June say was the best restaurant around. When Jilly picked him up, he'd show her the roses. He'd break one off and give it to her. Or maybe he'd have a bouquet already cut and waiting. But they'd probably wilt in the car. So maybe the restaurant could put them in a gla.s.s of water for her. And there they'd be all through dinner, those red petals, velvety soft like her cheeks.

"h.e.l.lo?" she answered breathlessly.

"Hi." The restaurant, roses, her sweet voice, it all ran together in his head. He didn't know what to say next. "This is Gordon. Gordon Loomis."

"Oh, sure-Gordon! How've you been? I've been meaning to call you. I was wondering what you thought of the condos I showed you."

"I liked them. They were very nice. And I really appreciated seeing them. I mean, I appreciated your time . . . the time it took to show them to me."

"Well, I'm glad to do it. Did you get your appraisal yet?"

"No. That's not why I'm calling. I wanted to know if you could go to a restaurant. That's what I wanted to ask you."

"A restaurant?" She sounded confused.

"Yes, to eat dinner. That's what I meant. And any time's fine. Any night, whenever you want. I mean, I know you have appointments and things sometimes at night."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Gordon, but I can't."

"Oh. Well. Well, that's okay, then. I . . . I don't mean to bother you."

"You're not bothering me! No, it's not that at all. It's just that I'm-I'm seeing someone right now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Gordon."

"No, don't be sorry. I mean, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

CHAPTER 9.

He had been a fool to think that such a beautiful young woman would ever be attracted to him. He had to remember not to expect too much. Reentering the world didn't make a man free. It was enough just to be here, on his way home from work in the warm afternoon sunshine. As he turned into the front walk, Jada Fossum ran across the street carrying a puppy.

"Isn't he so sweet? Oh, I love you so much, you sweet little bee-bee!" she squealed, nuzzling the folds of its plump brown neck.

"He's a nice little dog." He thought of her kicking the old man's ratty little dog.

"Pet him. Go ahead!" She grabbed his hand and placed it on the dog's warm head. "See! He likes you!"

The dog yipped and wiggled toward him. "He's friendly."

"Yeah, these druggers, they were gonna take him to the pound, but my mother said, 'No, you can't do that.' She can't stand seeing animals be hurt. She said, 'They'll just put him to sleep, and the poor little beebee's never even been outside or anything.' They kept him in a cage all the time, the zombies. They did, didn't they?" she murmured in his floppy ear. "Poor little thing, he keeps p.o.o.ping all over the house. I'm trying to train him, but every time I put him down he takes off. Hey, you don't have an old leash or anything, do you?"

"No," he said. Then, seeing her disappointment, he remembered the old pieces of clothesline in the garage. She tied the shortest length to the collar. The collar seemed loose, but he knew better than to get too involved. The minute she put the puppy down, he squirmed out of the collar and tore through the bushes, onto Mrs. Jukas's front porch. Yelling, Jada chased after him. The door opened as the girl dove onto the yipping dog, trying to snare him with the collar.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mrs. Jukas demanded through the screen.

"I'm just trying to get my dog, that's all!"

"Get out of here!"

"I am. I'm just tryna get the thing on him, that's all!"

"No! Get out of here! You get off my porch right now!"

"I am! I am! I just have to do this!" Jada said as the collar slipped off the dog's head again.

The commotion had summoned Marvella Fossum to her front door. She seemed confused at first, then hurried down the steps and across the street onto Mrs. Jukas's narrow porch. "What the h.e.l.l're you doing?" she screamed. "If you can't take care of him, then you're not gonna keep him. Didn't I tell you that? Didn't I? Well, didn't I?" Jada picked up the dog and was trying to untangle the rope from the leg of the aluminum chair the dog had pulled over. "Answer me! I said answer me!" Marvella cried in the frantic tone of baseless authority.

"Get out of here! Both of you! You get off my porch right now!" Mrs. Jukas said.

"f.u.c.k you!" Marvella kicked the door panel.

The old woman's head recoiled. "That's it! I'm calling the police. I don't have to put up with a tramp like you coming onto my property!"

"Ma!" Jada pleaded as Marvella charged the door again.

In the driveway, Gordon raised his hand.

"Stop it, Ma! Stop it!" Jada cried, and grabbed her mother's arm.

"So she can call me any name she wants?" Marvella screamed. "Like I'm nothing? Like I'm just some piece of garbage?" she bawled as Jada managed to get her off the porch with the joyful dog straining at the lead.

Delores couldn't believe her ears. Not a word from Albert in days and suddenly here he was with his mousy little Dearborn clerk, Katie, in her denim jumper, saying he was closing the Collerton store in a few weeks.

"It seems like short notice, I know," he said.

"Short notice!"

Katie was tallying the merchandise count in a steno notebook, but Delores knew she had been brought as Albert's shield.

"It was one of those what I call lightbulb decisions," Albert intoned in that chest-deep voice he used when he wanted to impress someone. "All of a sudden you go, What are we doing, why do we keep carrying this deficit from month to month? . . ."

Katie looked up and nodded.

We? Who's we? He and Katie? How can he do this? How can he be so insensitive?

"And then it hits me! Why not just end it now?" he said.

"What do you mean?" Her voice quavered. She stared into his eyes, as if they were the only two there.

"Close it. Clear everything out, just lock the door," he declared.

"And that's it?"

"Well, what would be the point really of a going-out-of-business sale? I mean, when we can just take it all over to the new store," Katie called from behind the gla.s.s case where she knelt, counting Post-it pads.

"We can probably get it all out in a day," Albert agreed.

"If that!" Katie scoffed.

"What about me?" she asked him.

"We're still working out the details." He opened the storeroom door. "Hey! Where'd the old copier go?"

"That's the last thing we need, Albert Smick, another copier!" Katie laughed and jumped up. "He can't throw anything out," she told Delores. "You never know when you're going to need it, right, Albert?"

That night Delores called her youngest sister. Babbie was the one she called when she needed to sound off but didn't want a lecture. Of the five Dufault girls, Babbie was considered the featherbrain in the family, even though she was the only one who'd gone to college. Babbie said she should be grateful the store was closing. She'd never understood why Delores had stayed there all this time.

"All right! All right, I'm coming!" Babbie called away from the phone. She had to go. Dwayne was waiting. It was their line-dancing night at the Elks.

Maureen wasn't home, and Linda had her daughter-in-law on the other line and would call her right back. Delores was on the phone with her oldest sister, Karen, now, chewing her inner cheek to shreds while she tried not to cry. "You had to know this was going to happen. There's no loyalty with a boss like Smick. He's a creep! He's always been a creep."

"No, he's not. He's a good man. And a good friend. A very good friend," she added.

"So is your very good friend going to make you manager of the new store, then?"

"I would imagine."

"Well, is he or isn't he?"

"Yes. Of course. I'm sure he is. He's just been so busy, he-"

"Delores! Don't you get it? This is it! In a couple of weeks you're out of a job!"

"No, I'm not!"

"You could make so much money somewhere else. I never understood why you stayed there. How many times did I tell you about openings at the post office? You would've been a supervisor by now. You would've had security plus a pension. You're so smart: I don't get it, Delores. What were you thinking all those years? That somehow there was going to be some future there? I mean, even Mom saw this coming. She'd say, 'What's she doing still living at home? Why isn't she out on her own like the rest of you?'"

"I took care of Mom! She wanted me there. She needed me. Who else was going to do it?" Delores cried, though she was sure Karen was once again putting words into their dead mother's mouth.

"What she wanted, Doe, was for you to have your own life like the rest of us."

"I do. I have my own life. I always have. It may not meet your standards, but I'm very happy the way I am." She felt better for saying that. She took a deep breath. "And if you can't accept me for who I am, then that's your problem."

There was a pause. "Oh, my G.o.d."

"What do you mean, 'Oh, my G.o.d'?"

"You're gay, aren't you. You're a lesbian, that's it, that's what you're trying to tell me. I feel so stupid! I mean, here I am, a nurse, and it went right by me. All these years, my own sister, and I never even put it together. Of course! It was like you always wanted to tell me something: I always had that feeling. Now it all makes such sense."

"It does?"

"You always had so many girlfriends! You never went out with guys."

"Yes, I did."

"Yeah, but they were always more like buddy things."

"Buddy things?"

"You know, either they were seeing someone else or, G.o.d, probably even gay themselves, now that I think of it. Or like Gordon Loomis, right? Jail, now isn't that the ultimate cover? But listen, Doe, it doesn't matter. Really. You're my sister and I love you just the way you are! No matter what you are!" Karen declared with the fervor of liberation, sisterhood, relief-something.

"I'm not gay, Karen."

"It's all right. I can handle it."

"But I'm not!"

At nine the next morning, Delores sat in her idling car in the narrow lot behind Smick's in Dearborn. She noted the brand-new wheeled trash receptacles. All the Collerton store had were old galvanized barrels she could barely drag when full. There were even two lawn chairs and a small plastic table for employees to use on warm days. Albert pulled into the s.p.a.ce beside her.

"What are you doing here?" His shiny pate pinkened with her approach.

"I have to talk to you."

"All right. Yes. Of course. We do, but does it have to be right now?" He glanced at his watch. "Shouldn't you be opening now?"

She shrugged. "Why? What does it matter?" Her heavily made-up eyes burned in the morning light. She hadn't slept all night but had taken pains to look her best, wearing a bright fuchsia pantsuit and parrot-green scarf.

"It's not as if this comes as any big surprise, right?" he said in a low voice.

"Why did you have to bring someone with you? Do you know how I felt? We've always been able to talk. My G.o.d, how many years have we . . . known each other?" she added quickly when his eyes widened.

"I'm sorry."

"You hurt me terribly, Albert. I've always been so loyal. You know I have. And I've tried to be understanding. No matter what was going on, I always tried to see your side of it. So how could you do that to me?"

"I'm sorry."