“For lovingkindness,” Shorty supplied,.
“‘For lovingkindness.’ Kissed us thank-you and good-night as quick with her husband there as any other time. Always did, if we stopped for a late bit o’ supper with them.” (All right, twin. Fred and Anton. Not Tom and Hugo. Happened only once. Oh, Tom would have, but no chance, so I kept it cool. Hugo—nobody gets past Hugo’s guard and I never tried. He has moral character—something you and I don’t know anything about.)
“Thank you for telling me, Tom. I’ll never let Anton guess. But he’ll find me easy to kiss if he wishes to. . . now that I know that she shared lovingkindness with him.
Abrupt change of subject: Tom, is that pretty little stream polluted? It looks so clean.”
“It’s clean. Clean as a creek can be, I mean. I know because I found out about this place through the company lending it to our guild for a picnic. Some of us went swimming after the farm super told us it was okay.”
“Oh, wonderful! Because I want to swim. I last went swimming in natural water—old swimming hole style, I mean—let me see. . . goodness! More than three-quarters of a century ago.”
“Eunice, I don’t think you should.”
“Why?”
“Because it can be polluted another way. Dropouts. Not all the dropouts are in the A.A.s; any wild countryside attracts them. Like this. I didn’t make a fuss but when you walked down to the bank by yourself, Fred had you flanked one side and me the other.”
“Well, heavens, if you can keep me safe on the bank, you can keep me safe in the water.”
“It ain’t quite the same, truly it ain’t. I was a few seconds late once, I won’t be again. Some dropouts are real nasty weirdos, not just harmless nuts.”
“Tom, why argue? I want to get into that water, feel it all over me. I intend to.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. . . Joan Eunice.”
She jerked her head around at the last two words. Then she grinned and pouted her lower lip. “Okay, Tom. Darn it, I’ve handed you three a leash you can lead me by any time you see fit. And yet I’m supposed to be boss. It’s comical.”
“It’s like the Secret Service,” Finchley answered soberly. “The President is the top boss of any. . . but he gives in when his guards tell him not to do something.”
“Oh, I wasn’t complaining; I was wryly amused. But don’t jerk that leash too much, Tom; I don’t think Eunice would stand for it and neither will I.”
“I’m hoping you won’t pull on the leash as much as she did. If she, uh—well, things coulda been different.”
Fred said, “Tom, don’t cry over spilt milk.”
Joan said quickly, “I’m sorry. Boys, I think the picnic is over. Maybe someday we pan all have that swim somewhere safe and just as beautiful.” (Eunice, can you swim?) (Red Cross lifesaver—you knew that, it was in my snoopsheet. Never went out for the team, though; cheerleader was more fun.) (I could make a comment.) (Look who’s talking! No-Pants Smith.) (Who taught me?)
(You didn’t need teaching; you have the instincts.)
19
A short time later they were again in the car. Finchley said, “Home, Miss Smith?”
“Tom, I can’t hear you.”
“I asked did you want to go home, Miss?”
“I understood that part but this intercom must be out of order. I heard something that sounded like ‘Miss Smith.’”
There was a silence. “Eunice, do you want to go home?”
“Not until dinnertime, Tom; I want all of this lovely day I can have.”
“Okay, Eunice. Do I cruise? Or go somewhere?”
“Uh . . . I have one more item on my list, and there’s time enough for anything you three may want to pick up, too, so check around.”
“Will do. Where do we take you for what you want, Eunice?”
“I don’t know. I lost touch with such matters years ago. Tom, I want to buy a present for Mr. Salomon, something nice but unnecessary—presents should be unnecessary, a luxury a person might not buy himself. So it probably would be a men’s shop that stocks luxurious unnecessaries. Abercromhie & Fitch used to he that sort—but I’m not certain they are still in business.”