Free Promises by Belva Plain

boss.”
    “I don’t forget,” she said quietly. “Come, people, let’s gather up the papers and soda cans. Leave the place the way we found it and start home.”
    Danny wanted to know when he was to have his desk.
    “Dad will bring it home next week, when it’s ready.”
    On the way the children suddenly demanded Cokes.
    “We can stop off in Randolph Corners,” Margaret said. “We came through it, didn’t we? I didn’t pay attention.”
    “It’s Randolph Crossing,” said Adam, who had certainly paid attention.
    And remembering now as he drove along, he began to feel ashamed of this unaccustomed rudeness. Furthermore, it was a stupid way to behave; it was as if he were afraid of the woman.
    Yet, what did she want? On the one hand, he thought perhaps he knew very well what she wanted. On the other hand, though, he might be all wrong, merely a conceited fool who thought he was irresistible. He probably was all wrong.
    “This is a pretty little town,” Margaret remarked when they arrived at the soda fountain. “Look across the street. There’s a florist, a dress shop, and an attractive bookstore. There didn’t used to be much here, as I remember.”
    “There isn’t much now,” Adam said. “There haven’t been more than a dozen cars passing through in the last five minutes. Something tells me that they’ve picked a bad time to gentrify the place.”
    “Oh, ‘gentrify,’ ” said the waitress, joining the conversation. “It’ll be great when it happens, we can sure use the business. I know we sure can, but there’s no sign of it yet, that’s for sure.” A large woman, poised between middle age and old age, she spoke with authority. “Up there in The Grove, that’s what they call those new houses on the hill, mighty nice houses, too, I wouldn’t mind having one, ha-ha. Me! Fat chance. Up there, half of them aren’t sold. They can’t move them.Well, it’ll take time, I guess. Things’ll pick up. Want a refill on those Cokes, kids?”
    “I think they’ve had—” Margaret began, when Adam interrupted.
    “Things’ll pick up. They always do. But it must be hard on the real estate people, waiting around for the pickup.”
    “I guess so. Those women next door, they come in here every day for lunch, and I hear them talk. Mind, they’re not starving, but it’s slow, that’s all. Well, you want the check.”
    “Talked your head off, didn’t she?” Adam said when they were in the car.
    “She was lonesome.”
    Margaret was always quick to catch impressions. She really noticed people. I do not, he thought.
    “I had the feeling that she’s a widow. I imagine she has children who’ve moved away and whom she never sees. She lives alone and doesn’t get much chance to talk. A sad, abandoned woman.”
    “All that in two minutes’ worth of conversation? You ought to write novels. Sad novels.”
    Of course, he was teasing her. And yet there was truth behind the teasing: Margaret had
heart.
    Everyone else in the family being occupied on the following Saturday, Adam went alone to fetch the desk. On the way back he took the route that led through Randolph Crossing. The other way was more direct, but the day was brilliant, and the road on this side of the river went past pleasant scenery through diminishing hills down toward home.
    After a while, as he neared Randolph Crossing, heturned the radio off to examine his motive without distraction. The scenic route was certainly the more enjoyable, and it was quite possible he might have taken it even without any other consideration. Still, he had to admit to an element of—should he say “curiosity”?—in his choice. It would be interesting to learn what she was doing with that helter-skelter life of hers; that is, it would be interesting if by any chance he should encounter her. That, however, was most unlikely. In that case, no harm done. And if he should not encounter her, why, no harm done either. He was really making much ado about