Hank gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “It’s great to see you guys, and I’d like to stay and chat but I’m late for a softball game. Maybe you could stop by the field and watch me destroy West Millerville.”
“That would be lovely,” Helen said sweetly. “We could swing by Dr. Pritchard’s office and get a tetanus shot for your father, and then we’ll watch you play for a little while.”
Hank took his cleats from the hall closet, rumpled Maggie’s hair, and kissed her on the nose. “See you at supper. Don’t forget about the dance to night.”
Bubba’s mouth fell open. “You’re taking her to the dance at the grange? You hate that kind of stuff.”
“I’m going to the dance too,” Elsie said. “I hear everybody’ll be there. I even got my hair done.”
“The grange holds two dances,” Bubba told her. “One at the beginning of the county fair and one at the end of the county fair. This here’s the one at the end of the county fair, and it’s always the best. The king and queen of the fair will be there. One year Hank was supposed to be king of the fair, but he never showed up.” He elbowed Hank. “Remember that?”
Hank’s father shook his head.
“He was a trial,” his mother said. “But now he’s all settled down. Married to a lovely girl. No more crazy schemes. Goodness, it makes a mother feel good.”
Maggie put her finger to her eyebrow.
“Something wrong, dear?” Hank’s mother asked.
“A slight twitch. It’s nothing. The doctor says it’s a nervous disorder, but you can’t believe everything those doctors say. I’m not a nervous sort of person. I’m really very calm. Don’t you think I’m calm, Hank?”
“I told you she was loony,” Bubba whispered to Hank. “You’d better watch her. Old Bernie Grizzard started with a twitch, and now he’s talking to doorknobs.”
Hank put his arm around her. “Of course you’re calm, sweetcakes. You’ve just been working too hard. You’ve probably got eye strain from too many hours at the computer.”
“She works day and night,” Elsie said to Hank’s parents. “It isn’t natural for a body to sit in front of one of those machines like that. It’s no wonder she’s so pale and twitchy.”
Maggie gasped. Was she realty pale and twitchy? Maybe she had been working too hard lately.
Hank patted her on the top of her head. “Poor little girl. All work and no play.” His mouth curved into a seductive smile. “We’ll fix that to night, won’t we?”
There was laughter in Hank’s eyes, and Maggie knew it wasn’t directed at her. He was fond of these people, and he was tolerant of them. He found humor where she found pure aggravation. She liked him for that. And she liked him for his silent reassurances. His eyes told her that she wasn’t the least bit pale. His eyes told her she was beautiful beyond belief, and the smile was frighteningly indecent. The smile also produced a flood of memories from the night before.
“We’re gonna be late for the game,” Bubba said. “We’d better get going.”
Helen Mallone responded to her husband’s hand at her elbow. “We should be moving along too.”
Maggie waved good-bye to the Mallones and watched Hank follow them down the driveway in his faded Ford. The sun had baked the moisture out of the dirt road, and a cloud of dust rose like a plume, marking the truck’s progress.
Maggie stood on the porch until the cars were out of sight and the dust had begun to settle. Excitement fluttered in her chest like a wild bird. She was going to a dance to night! With Hank! How could she have forgotten? Easy. She had a short memory these days, she admitted. For instance, she’d just forgotten she was supposed to be disenchanted with Hank as husband material. In fact, not so long ago she didn’t even think he looked so great as friend material. Now here she was in a state approaching euphoria because he was going to take her to a dance.
She put her hand to her mouth and found the smile had returned. She wasn’t surprised.
“Life is not simple,” she said to Fluffy, taking her into the kitchen for a dish of cat food.
Elsie was one step behind them. “You know, if I was after those diaries, I’d come get them tonight. There won’t be nobody home to night. They’ll be easy pickin’s. You don’t just leave them laying around, do you?”
“I hide them under my mattress.”
“Amateur stuff. We got to do better than that. We got to find a real hiding place for them if we’re all going out.”
Maggie popped open a can of kitty tuna. “I guess you’re right. I’ll find a better place as soon as I feed Fluffy. You have any ideas?”
“I read a mystery story once where they hid diamonds in the refrigerator. I always thought that was pretty dumb, because every man I ever met stopped at the refrigerator first thing. I figure you got to put it in something a man would never touch. Like a basket of ironing. Or maybe you could get a false-bottomed pail for the johnny mop.”
“The diary is too big for a false-bottomed pail. It’s actually seven books.” She set the plate of cat food on the floor. “I guess I should hide my computer disks too.”
“Tell me the truth,” Elsie said. “Are those books worth stealing? Your Aunt Kitty know something the rest of us don’t? She have trade secrets in those books?”
“I suppose there are a few trade secrets, but I really don’t think there’s anything worth stealing. You can read them, if you want.”
“Yeah? Maybe I will. I got some time off this afternoon. Maybe I’ll just spend an hour or two browsing through them. Then we can find a good hiding place before we leave.”
At six o’clock Elsie put dinner on the table. “I don’t mind people not coming to the table to eat my food,” she said. “You don’t want to eat, you don’t have to eat. But I’m not waiting dinner. Dinner is served at six o’clock, and if you want to eat, you’d better not be late. I don’t care if the truck broke down or aliens landed on the baseball field, I’m not serving supper all night long.”
An hour later Hank threw his cleats onto the back porch and ambled into the kitchen. “Smells wonderful in here, Elsie. I bet you made stew with homemade biscuits. I could smell it the minute I got out of the truck.” He put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sorry I’m late. The game went into extra innings.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Did you win?”
“Yup.” He grinned down at her and pulled a baseball out of his pocket. “And I brought you the game ball too.”
She slid the ball into her apron pocket. “Lucky for you I can be bought. I don’t usually serve supper to people when they’re late.” She ladled out a plate of stew from the pot heating on the stove and added biscuits she’d had warming in the oven. “There’s layer cake for dessert. You can help yourself. I got things to do.”
Maggie was still at the table, lingering over a glass of iced coffee and a second piece of cake.
“How do you do it?” she asked Hank when he sat across from her.
“Do what?”
“Charm all the women. If I’d been an hour late, I’d be eating dry toast for supper.”
“That’s not true. Elsie would have saved supper for you. She’s like a hedgehog. All prickles on the outside and soft and warm at the belly.” He buttered a biscuit. “You weren’t talking about just Elsie, though, were you?”
“No. I was talking about a lifetime of wrapping women around your little finger. Including your mother and me.”
“I didn’t realize I had you wrapped around my little finger.”
“I’m resisting.”
“Are we having a serious discussion?”
“Pretty much,” Maggie said.
“Then we have to put all these women in the appropriate category. My mother doesn’t count. Mothers spoil their children no matter how rotten they are. The girls I knew in high school were hardly wrapped around my little finger. When I came back home I was the bad boy returned, and every eligible female-and some that weren’t-wanted to take a crack at reforming me.