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They’d hardly looked at each other. I was pretty sure that things would have been the same before I arrived. I wasn’t sure if Tara had been told n...t to speak or had just felt so awkward that she didn’t say anything.I lined Tara up and looked her straight in the eye.“Tracey says hi and she says sorry.”“Sorry for what?”I shrugged. “Sorry for whatever. Sorry for everything. She didn’t say. Now listen. Tomorrow at school, if Tracey tries to be nice to you, don’t be stupid about it – be nice back to. And although I knew the pastry shop would be the highlight of my morning I first of all went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, wearing that Italian silk dress I have so often spoken of. Now it may have been the dress, and the fact that there was a breeze swirling and billowing the skirt tantalizingly, or it may have been my increasing anticipation, but simply walking up the steps at the front of the MMA was enough that all my senses came to the fore, and I began to feel that pressure between. The kitchen seemed to be empty. Peter walked around the kitchen table where various steaming dishes full of food had been laid out. He stood in front of the stove, scratching his head. There were two pots boiling on the burners.Peter put down his briefcase and opened the door of the stove. A powerful light flashed and Peter froze. He was leaning forward in front of the open stove, his slender arms holding a large tin pan in which sat a large, golden brown turkey. His back ached with the strain. " And then I chuckled. She looked at me and smiled and said, "No, we're okay. It isn't far." I reached down in the side door pocket and grabbed my umbrella and said, "Here. At least take this, I don't need it." Just then a huge lightning bolt and accompanying thunder cracked down and without another word she opened the truck door, handed me her child and jumped in. She put on her seat belt, then grabbed the little girl and held her in her lap. I turned off the flashers and drove ahead, hoping.
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