"They're all right," Ruthanne said. "Royal is joining tomorrow night. But the women in the neighborhood-"
"Oh listen," Joanna said, "that doesn't have anything to do with color, believe me. They're like that with everybody. No time for a cup of coffee, right? Riveted on their housework?"
Ruthanne nodded. "I don't mind for myself," she said. "I'm very self-sufficient, otherwise I wouldn't have gone along with the move. But I-"
Joanna told her about the Stepford women, and how Bobbie was even planning to move away to avoid becoming like them.
Ruthanne smiled. "There's nothing that's going to make a hausfrau out of me," she said. "If they're that way, fine. I was just concerned about it being about color because of the girls." She had two of them, four and six; and her husband Royal was chairman of the sociology department of one of the city universities. Joanna told her about Walter and Pete and Kim, and about her photography.
They exchanged phone numbers. "I turned into a hermit when I was working on Penny," Ruthanne said, "but I'll call you sooner or later."
"I'll call you," Joanna said. "If you're busy, just say so. I want you to meet Bobbie; I'm sure you'll like each other."
On the way to their cars-they had left them in front of the library-Joanna saw Dale Coba looking at her from a distance. He stood with a lamb in his arms, by a group of men setting up a cr amp;che near the Historical Society cottage. She nodded at him, and he, holding the live-looking lamb, nodded and smiled.
She told Ruthanne who he was, and asked her if she knew that Ike Mazzard lived in Stepford.
"Who?"
"Ike Mazzard. The illustrator."
Ruthanne had never heard of him, which made Joanna feel very old. Or very white.
HAVING ADAM for the weekend was a mixed blessing. On Saturday he and Pete and Kim played beautifully together, inside the house and out; but on Sunday, a freezing-cold overcast day when Walter laid claim to the family room for football-watching (fairly enough after last Sunday's sledding), Adam and Pete became, serially, soldiers in a blanket-over-the-dining-table fort, explorers in the cellar ("Stay out of that darkroom!"), and Star Trek people in Pete's room-all of them sharing, strangely enough, a single common enemy called KimShe's-Dim. They were loudly and scornfully watchful, preparing defenses; and poor Kim was dim, wanting only to join them, not to crayon or help file negatives, not even -Joanna was desperate-to bake cookies. Adam and Pete ignored threats, Kim ignored blandishments, Walter ignored everything.
Joanna was glad when Bobbie and Dave came to pick Adam up.
But she was glad she had taken him when she saw how great they looked.
Bobbie had had her hair done and was absolutely beautiful-either due to make-up or lovemaking, probably both. And Dave looked jaunty and keyed up and happy. They brought bracing coldness into the entrance hall. "Hi, Joanna, how'd it go?" Dave said, rubbing leather-gloved hands; and Bobbie, wrapped in her raccoon coat, said, "I hope Adam wasn't any trouble."
"Not a speck," Joanna said. "You look marvelous, both of you!"
"We feel marvelous," Dave said, and Bobbie smiled and said, "It was a lovely weekend. Thank you for helping us manage it."
"Forget it," Joanna said. "I'm going to plunk Pete with you one of these weekends."
"We'll be glad to take him," Bobbie said, and Dave said, "Whenever you want, just say the word. Adam? Time to go."
"He's up in Pete's room."
Dave cupped his gloved hands and shouted, "Adam! We're here! Get your stuff!"
"Take your coats off," Joanna said.
"Got to pick up Jon and Kenny," Dave said, and Bobbie said, "I'm sure you'd like some peace and quiet. It must have been hectic."
"Well it hasn't been my most restful Sunday," Joanna said. "Yesterday was great though."
"Hi there!" Walter said, coming in from the kitchen with a glass in his hand.
Bobbie said, "Hello, Walter," and Dave said, "Hi, buddy!"
"How was the second honeymoon?" Walter asked.
"Better than the first," Dave said. "Just shorter, that's all." He grinned at Walter.
Joanna looked at Bobbie, expecting her to say something funny. Bobbie smiled at her and looked toward the stairs. "Hello, gumdrop," she said.
"Did you have a nice weekend?"
"I don't want to go," Adam said, standing tilted to keep his shopping bag clear of the stair. Pete and Kim stood behind him. Kim said, "Can't he stay another night?"
"No, dear, there's school tomorrow," Bobbie said, and Dave said, "Come on, pal, we've got to collect the rest of the Mafia."
Adam came sulkily down the stairs, and Joanna went to the closet for his coat and boots. "Hey," Dave said, "I've got some information on that stock you asked me about." Walter said, "Oh, good," and he and Dave went into the living room.
Joanna gave Adam's coat to Bobbie, and Bobbie thanked her and held it open for Adam. He put his shopping bag down and winged back his arms to the coat sleeves.
Joanna, holding Adam's boots, said, "Do you want a bag for these?"
"No, don't bother," Bobbie said. She turned Adam around and helped him with his buttons.
"You smell nice," he said.
"Thanks, gumdrop."
He looked at the ceiling and at her. "I don't like you to call me that," he said. "I used to, but now I don't."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I won't do it again." She smiled at him and kissed him on the forehead.
Walter and Dave came out of the living room, and Adam picked up his shopping bag and said good-by to Pete and Kim. Joanna gave Adam's boots to Bobbie and touched cheeks with her. Bobbie's was still cool from outside, and she did smell nice. "Speak to you tomorrow," Joanna said.
"Sure," Bobbie said. They smiled at each other. Bobbie moved to Walter at the door and offered her cheek. He hesitated-Joanna wondered why-and pecked it.
Dave kissed Joanna, clapped Walter on the arm-"So long, buddy"-and steered Adam out after Bobbie.
"Can we go in the family room now?" Pete asked.
"It's all yours," Walter said.
Pete ran away and Kim ran after him.
Joanna and Walter stood at the cold glass of the storm door, looking out at Bobbie and Dave and Adam getting into their car.
"Fantastic," Walter said.
"Don't they look great?" Joanna said. "Bobbie didn't even look that good at the party. Why didn't you want to kiss her?"
Walter didn't say anything, and then he said, "Oh, I don't know, cheek-kissing. It's so damn show-business."
"I never noticed you objecting before."
"Then I've changed, I guess," he said.
She watched the car doors close, and its headlights flash on. "How about us having a weekend alone?" she said. "They'll take Pete, they said they would, and I'm sure the Van Sants would take Kim."
"T'hat'd be great," he said. "Right after the holidays."
"Or maybe the Hendrys," she said. "They've got a sixyear-old girl, and I'd like Kim to get to know a black family."
The car pulled away, red taillights shining, and Walter closed the door and locked it and thumbed down the switch of the outside lights. "Want a drink?" he asked.
"And how," Joanna said. "I need one after today."
UGH, WHAT A MONDAY: PETE'S room to be reassembled and all the others straightened out, the beds to be changed, washing (and she'd let it pile up, of course), tomorrow's shopping list to make up, and three pairs of Pete's pants to be lengthened. That was what she was doing; never mind what else had to be done-the Christmas shopping, and the Christmas-card addressing, and making Pete's costume for the play (thanks for that, Miss Turner). Bobbie didn't call, thank goodness; this wasn't a day for kaffee-kiatsching. Is she right? Joanna wondered. Am I changing? Hell, no; the housework had to be caught up with once in a while, otherwise the place would turn into-well, into Bobbie's place. Besides, a real Stepford wife would sail through it all very calmly and efficiently, not running the vacuum cleaner over its cord and then mashing her fingers getting the cord out from around the damn roller thing.