kids?" Cheryl asked.
"No." Jack had not wanted children. He never actually said so, but somehow it was never the right time.
"That's too bad. I was hoping I could borrow one." Cheryl giggled. "One of these days I'm going to be arrested. Whenever I see a kid in a grocery store or someplace, it's all I can do not to grab it and squeeze it. I miss Little Joe so much."
"He isn't with you?" Karen returned the wallet, adding, "He's adorable. I don't see how you can stand to be away from him."
"I didn't have much choice. He'd just got comfortable with Mom and Dad and I didn't want to uproot him again. Besides, it wouldn't have been fair to Mark. He's renting a town house in Foggy Bottom, all neat and shiny and modern, but not very big; and he's always having people in for drinks and talks and dinner and stuff. I'm pretty busy myself, trying to adjust to Mark's schedule and going to school. I'm studying bookkeeping and computer science."
"Good for you."
"Well, I don't want to be a checker in a grocery store all my life." Cheryl leaned against the counter, arms crossed; she seemed quite prepared to stand there for the rest of the afternoon. "I never went to college and I don't have any training-"
"No marketable skills," Karen said with a wry smile.
"Yeah, doesn't it make you feel small when they say that? Like you were a sack of potatoes that's gone bad. I'm doing pretty good in school, though. I think I'm going to get an A in accounting."
Karen offered appropriate congratulations; Cheryl's beaming smile of pride was as irresistible as her cheerful chatter. "So you don't want to become a Washington hostess?" she said.
"Hell-I mean, good heavens, no. All this protocol and formality drives me crazy. Besides, Mark is sure to get married someday. He's got women chasing him all the time."
Karen could think of nothing to say to this. Cheryl realized that she had been tactless and she flushed again, and said awkwardly, "Say, isn't it just about closing time?"
"Don't let that worry you. Take your time-"
"I came to see you. I was glad when that other woman left. I know I shouldn't talk about a friend of yours, but she gives me the pip. I thought maybe if you had time we could have a cup of coffee or a drink or something."
"I'm afraid…" The refusal was instinctive, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when Karen realized, with some surprise, that she didn't want to refuse.
Cheryl was too sensitive to miss the implication. She blushed more deeply. Her skin had the translucent pallor that goes with red hair and that shows every emotion in the ebb and flow of the blood.
"Mark said I shouldn't come. He said I'd open my big mouth and put my fat foot in it. But I thought… well, she's like me in a lot of ways, she hasn't lived here for a long time and probably most of her friends have moved away, and could be she's a little lonesome-like me…"
She stuttered to a stop, her cheeks flaming. She's shy, Karen thought in surprise, shy and a little insecure, under that chatty facade of hers. That was something else they had in common. And although Cheryl had described herself as tactless, she had not mentioned another thing they shared-their loss, by one means or another, of the men who had dominated their lives.
"I'd love a cup of coffee," Karen said. "But why don't we go to my house? I only live a few blocks away, and the cafes around here charge an arm and a leg."
SHY
was not exactly the word for Cheryl. She was acutely aware of her inadequacies as a hostess for Mark, but the rueful humor with which she related some of her funnier faux pas made it clear that they didn't keep her awake nights. Since her failures had been the result of a blunt tongue, a kind heart, and a complete lack of hypocrisy, Karen was inclined to agree, and to hope, that her new acquaintance would never become a successful political wife.
It was obvious that Cheryl wanted to become a friend, not just a casual acquaintance. Her confession that Mark had
"No." Jack had not wanted children. He never actually said so, but somehow it was never the right time.
"That's too bad. I was hoping I could borrow one." Cheryl giggled. "One of these days I'm going to be arrested. Whenever I see a kid in a grocery store or someplace, it's all I can do not to grab it and squeeze it. I miss Little Joe so much."
"He isn't with you?" Karen returned the wallet, adding, "He's adorable. I don't see how you can stand to be away from him."
"I didn't have much choice. He'd just got comfortable with Mom and Dad and I didn't want to uproot him again. Besides, it wouldn't have been fair to Mark. He's renting a town house in Foggy Bottom, all neat and shiny and modern, but not very big; and he's always having people in for drinks and talks and dinner and stuff. I'm pretty busy myself, trying to adjust to Mark's schedule and going to school. I'm studying bookkeeping and computer science."
"Good for you."
"Well, I don't want to be a checker in a grocery store all my life." Cheryl leaned against the counter, arms crossed; she seemed quite prepared to stand there for the rest of the afternoon. "I never went to college and I don't have any training-"
"No marketable skills," Karen said with a wry smile.
"Yeah, doesn't it make you feel small when they say that? Like you were a sack of potatoes that's gone bad. I'm doing pretty good in school, though. I think I'm going to get an A in accounting."
Karen offered appropriate congratulations; Cheryl's beaming smile of pride was as irresistible as her cheerful chatter. "So you don't want to become a Washington hostess?" she said.
"Hell-I mean, good heavens, no. All this protocol and formality drives me crazy. Besides, Mark is sure to get married someday. He's got women chasing him all the time."
Karen could think of nothing to say to this. Cheryl realized that she had been tactless and she flushed again, and said awkwardly, "Say, isn't it just about closing time?"
"Don't let that worry you. Take your time-"
"I came to see you. I was glad when that other woman left. I know I shouldn't talk about a friend of yours, but she gives me the pip. I thought maybe if you had time we could have a cup of coffee or a drink or something."
"I'm afraid…" The refusal was instinctive, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when Karen realized, with some surprise, that she didn't want to refuse.
Cheryl was too sensitive to miss the implication. She blushed more deeply. Her skin had the translucent pallor that goes with red hair and that shows every emotion in the ebb and flow of the blood.
"Mark said I shouldn't come. He said I'd open my big mouth and put my fat foot in it. But I thought… well, she's like me in a lot of ways, she hasn't lived here for a long time and probably most of her friends have moved away, and could be she's a little lonesome-like me…"
She stuttered to a stop, her cheeks flaming. She's shy, Karen thought in surprise, shy and a little insecure, under that chatty facade of hers. That was something else they had in common. And although Cheryl had described herself as tactless, she had not mentioned another thing they shared-their loss, by one means or another, of the men who had dominated their lives.
"I'd love a cup of coffee," Karen said. "But why don't we go to my house? I only live a few blocks away, and the cafes around here charge an arm and a leg."
SHY
was not exactly the word for Cheryl. She was acutely aware of her inadequacies as a hostess for Mark, but the rueful humor with which she related some of her funnier faux pas made it clear that they didn't keep her awake nights. Since her failures had been the result of a blunt tongue, a kind heart, and a complete lack of hypocrisy, Karen was inclined to agree, and to hope, that her new acquaintance would never become a successful political wife.
It was obvious that Cheryl wanted to become a friend, not just a casual acquaintance. Her confession that Mark had
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