"See, Mom, it's got there."
"Yes, I see. Maybe Willie picked it up with the cleaning."
"It's gone."
"Yeah, well, put on the navy. It's pretty."
**********
They went to the Hot Shoppe. Chris ate a salad while Regan had soup, four rolls, fried chicken, a chocolate shake, and a helping and a half of blueberry pie with coffee ice cream. Where does she put it, Chris wondered fondly, in her wrists? The child was slender as a fleeting hope.
Chris lit a cigarette over her coffee and looked through the window on her right. The river was dark and currentless, waiting.
"I enjoyed my dinner, Mom."
Chris turned to her, and as often happened, caught her breath and felt again that ache on seeing Howard's image in Regan's face. It was the angle of the light. She dropped her glance to Regan's plate.
"Going to leave that pie?" Chris asked her.
Regan lowered her eyes. "I ate some candy."
Chris stubbed out ber cigarette and chuckled. "Let's go."
**********
They were back before seven. Willie and Karl had already returned. Regan made a dash for the basement playroom, eager to finish the sculpture for her mother. Chris headed for the kitchen to pick up the script. She found Willie brewing coffee; coarse; open pot. She looked irritable and sullen.
"Hi, Willie, how'd it go? Have a real nice time?"
"Do not ask." She added an eggshell and a pinch of salt to the bubbling contents of the pot.
They had gone to a movie, Willie explained. She had wanted to see the Beatles, but Karl had insisted on an art-house film about Mozart. "Terrible," she simmered as she lowered the flame.
"That dumbhead!"
"Sorry 'bout that." Chris tucked the script underneath her arm. "Oh, Willie, have you seen that dress that I got for Rags last week? The blue cotton?"
"Yes, I see it in her closet. This morning."
"Where'd you put it?"
"It is there."
"You didn't maybe pick it up by mistake with the cleaning?"
"It is there."
"With the cleaning?"
"In the closet."
"No, it isn't. I looked."
About to speak, Willie tightened her lips and scowled at the coffee. Karl, had walked in.
"Good evening, madam." He went to the sink for a glass of water.
"Did you set those traps?" asked Chris.
"No rats."
"Did you set them?"
"I set them, of course; but the attic is clean."
"Tell me, how was the movie, Karl?"
"Exciting." His back, like his face, was a resolute blank.
Chris started from the kitchen, humming a song made famous by the Beatles. But the she turned. Just one more shot!
"Did you have any trouble getting the traps, Karl?"
"No; no trouble."
"At six in the morning?"
"All-night
