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“No, of course not,” answered Lori. “It’s Thursday.”
“Big party?”
“No, I gather it’s just five or six people.”
“No kidding!”
She was pleased but not really surprised. They courted her company: cab drivers; poets; professors; kings. What was it they liked about her? Life? Shirley sat at the table. “How’d the lesson go?”
Lori lit a cigarette, frowning. “Had a bad time with math again.”
“Oh? Gee, that’s funny.”
“I know; it’s her favorite subject,” said Lori.
“Oh, well, this ‘new math’. Christ, I couldn’t make change for the bus if –
“Hi, Mom!”
She was bounding through the door, slim arms outstretched. Red hair in ponytails. Soft, shining face full of freckles.
“Hi ya, stinkpot!” Beaming, Shirley caught her in a bearhug, squeezing, then kissed the girl’s cheek with smacking ardor. She could not repress the full flood of her love. “Mmum-mmum-mmum!” More kisses. Then she held Stephanie out and probed her face with eager eyes. “What'djya do today? Anything exciting?”
“Oh, stuff.’
“So what kinda stuff?’
“Oh, lemme see.” She had her knees against her mother’s, swaying gently back and forth. “Well, I studied, of course.”
“Uh-huh.”
“An' I painted."
“Wha’djya paint?”
“Oh, flowers, ya know. Daisies? Only pink. An’ then-