Free Switcharound by Lois Lowry Page A

financial situation is just fine, Lillian? The income was all there the whole time. It was just that it was concealed, apparently, by the way the computer had been programmed—"
    "Yes," Lillian said, laughing. "You told me, Herbie. The instant you told me, I resigned from the real estate course." She put her knitting down. "How about some iced tea?"
    Caroline and Herbie both nodded, and Lillian went to the refrigerator.
    Herbie set his papers aside and shook his head. "Revenge," he said. "The guy got fired for stealing two tennis rackets, and he was lucky I didn't prosecute. Imagine doing something like this for revenge. If I had any idea where he is now, I think I'd go after him and—"
    Lillian handed him a glass of iced tea. "No you wouldn't, Herb. Because that would be revenge, too."
    Caroline took her glass of tea, thanked Lillian, and sipped. She was uncomfortable listening to the talk about revenge.
Very
uncomfortable. But at least J.P.'s revenge had been undone, and the Tater Chips now had a better chance of winning their game tomorrow.
    "I know I told you about this, Lillian," Caroline said, "but I want to make sure you don't forget. About Poochie's eyesight—"
    "I already made an appointment," Lillian said. "I'm taking him to the ophthalmologist on Monday afternoon. And I'm ashamed of myself that I never realized he needed glasses. I thought
all
kids sat four inches away from the TV."
    "He's going to be a really good ballplayer after he gets glasses, Dad," Caroline told Herbie. "Even
without
glasses, I bet anything he gets a hit tomorrow."
    Herbie beamed. "I can't wait to watch that game," he said. "Thank goodness the mess is cleared up at the store so I can take the morning off. I'll stop by the store early so that I can pick up your COACH shirt, Caroline, and your cap. Do you need a glove? We wouldn't have time to give it the old neat's-foot oil, but—"
    "Nope," Caroline told him. "Thanks anyway. But I really don't need a glove."
    Lillian held up the sweater sleeve she was knitting and measured it against one that was already finished. "I'll be late to the game, Caroline," she said. "I wouldn't miss it for anything, but I probably won't get there until the second or third inning. I talked to the pediatrician this afternoon about Ivy's earache, and I'm going to run her over to his office in the morning for a penicillin shot."
    "I'll tell Poochie," Caroline said. "His big rooting section will be there by the third inning."
    Lillian stood up and went to the refrigerator again. "It won't take long at the doctor's," she said from the kitchen as she poured some more iced tea into her own glass. "It's a good thing it's Ivy, though, who has the earache. Holly's allergic to penicillin."
    She brought the pitcher in. "More tea?" she asked Caroline.
    Caroline stared at her. "No, thank you," she said finally, in a stricken voice.
    "Is something wrong?"
    "I'm going to bed," Caroline said tensely. "All of a sudden I feel as if I want to go to bed."

    But she couldn't sleep. For hours Caroline lay in the dark bedroom, wide awake. She heard the babies sigh and snore and toss as they slept. After a while she heard Herbie and Lillian go down the hall to their bedroom. She heard the muted sounds of their voices and water running in their bathroom, and then the house was completely silent. And still Caroline couldn't sleep.
    Finally she got out of bed. In the bathroom across the hall, she turned on the light, blinked, and looked at her watch. It was after one A.M.
    Unhappily she wandered out into the dark family room and sat on the couch. Lillian's partly knitted sweater sleeve was there, on top of the knitting instruction book. Yellow, for Ivy. She had already finished the little pink one for Holly, with a matching cap.
    Caroline picked up the little pink cap, turned it over in her hands, and began to cry.
    Had she said, just a few days ago, that she hated the babies? It wasn't true. She didn't hate them. It was true