She attempted a light laugh that came out sounding tinny. Beatrice didn’t laugh herself, but she seemed to be listening. Her eyes, for the first time, rested on Rebecca’s eyes, and she stopped fiddling with her fork.
“I had this vision of you reading aloud to him in front of the fire,” Rebecca told her. “I thought you’d have these serious philosophical discussions.”
“Well, we don’t,” Beatrice said flatly.
“No, I can see that.”
“End of the day? We’re not speaking.”
Rebecca misunderstood her, at first. Accustomed though she was to young people’s turns of phrase, she thought that Beatrice meant they didn’t say good night to each other. Then she said, “Oh. You don’t speak ever?”
“This supper’s an exception. But I’m not here because I want to be.”
“Well… still, it was nice of you to come.”
“I’m here because he promised me my own e-mail account if I came.”
Rebecca said, “Oh.”
Will barged through the swinging door, carrying a Pyrex casserole in both hands. “Ta-da!” he said. He set it on the table. Rebecca sprang to pick it up — she expected it to be hot, although he’d carried it in bare-handed — but she discovered it was lukewarm, nowhere near a temperature that would damage the varnish. She sank back down, feeling silly.
“This is a complete-in-one-dish, whole-grain meal,” Will told Beatrice. “Entirely vegetarian.”
“Actually, I eat meat now,” she said.
“You do?”
His shoulders drooped. He looked over at Rebecca.
“We could all stand to eat more grains from time to time,” she assured him.
“Okay, well… I’m not serving anything else because this is complete in one dish. Oh. I already said that.”
“Have a seat,” she told him.
He sat down across from her and stared glumly at the casserole. It was Rebecca, finally, who lifted the lid. Chunks of broccoli and cauliflower dotted what looked like oatmeal. A serving spoon was submerged almost the length of its handle. Rebecca plucked the spoon out with the tips of her fingers. “Beatrice?” she said. “Care to pass me your plate?”
Beatrice rolled her eyes, but she obeyed.
“Will? Some for you?”
He held out his plate. A fleck of something green clung to his lower lip. Rebecca resisted the urge to brush it off.
She served herself last, and then wiped her fingers and picked up her fork. “Mm!” she said once she’d taken a bite. The other two were already eating, chewing crunchily and steadily, and she couldn’t think how because the dish was downright disgusting. The vegetables tasted raw and rooty, and the grain was so undercooked that she imagined it swelling up in her stomach and exploding. She looked around for water. There was none. Amazingly, Beatrice lifted another forkful to her mouth.
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a chef,” Will said.
“I just think you’re wonderful to make the effort,” Rebecca told him. “There are lots of men who would serve TV dinners, in your situation.”
He ducked his head shyly and said, “It’s not as if it’s all that complicated a recipe.”
Beatrice said, “So, do many men have you to supper, Rebecca?”
“Um…”
“Do you do a good bit of dating?”
Will glanced over at Beatrice, looking alarmed. Rebecca said, “Well, no, I—”
“Because you actually seem pretty normal, on the surface. And I’m just wondering if you realize what kind of a guy you’re eating with, here.”
“A very nice guy,” Rebecca said firmly. “I’ve known him since he was a toddler.”
“This is the guy who kidnapped our dog when Mom asked him for a divorce,” Beatrice told her.
“Your dog?”
“Our little dog Flopsy Doodle.”
Rebecca looked at Will. He swallowed. “I didn’t kidnap her,” he said. “I only… borrowed her. I happened to be upset.”
“He stole her when we were out and didn’t even leave us a note,” Beatrice said. She spoke pleasantly, almost perkily; she was the cheeriest Rebecca had yet seen her. “We came home and called, ‘Flopsy?’ No Flopsy. So my mom phoned my dad; we knew it had to be him. She told him she was calling the police, and do you know what he did? He lied and said he hadn’t the least idea what she was talking about. Then he opened his door and let Flopsy run off on her own, when everybody knows she’s got a terrible sense of direction. It’s lucky she wasn’t killed.”
“I was sad, all right?” Will said. “I was having a difficult time.”
“Like it wasn’t difficult for Mom and me.”
“Look: it was a momentary lapse. I already said I was sorry. How many times can I apologize? I went looking for her myself, in the middle of a rainstorm; I was out half the night hunting her; I brought her back in my new car even though she was covered with mud—”
“Well, just so you realize,” Beatrice told Rebecca. Then she rose and slid her chair neatly against the table. She gave her father a scornful stare down the length of her studded nose. “You can call me tomorrow about the e-mail account,” she said.
She walked out, clicking briskly in her hard-soled black leather boots.
After they heard the front door shut, Will and Rebecca looked across the table at each other. “I guess that wasn’t very successful,” Will said.
“Nonsense; it went fine.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Will said, shaking his head.
“Girls that age are impossible,” she told him. “My daughter? When she was your daughter’s age? Her most cherished dream was to grow up to be a bartender.”
Will didn’t seem impressed. Rebecca went further; she said, “And she always fell for the scariest boys. Boys you wouldn’t trust in your house, even! I worried what would become of her. But then she married the nicest man possible. Several nice men, in fact.”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Will went on saying.
“Will. Believe me. She’s going to be fine.”
He glanced up, then, from under his white eyebrows. “About the dog,” he said. “I’m sorry to say she was right: I behaved very badly there, for a while.”
“Well, no wonder! You were distraught.”
“What Laura said first was, she just needed a little space. To do some thinking, she said. I accommodated her in every way; moved out immediately. I was so agreeable! Then she called me on the phone and announced she was making it permanent. It kind of… floored me. I went over to talk about it, and when I found they weren’t at home, why, I must have gone a little nuts. But it was only that one occasion.”
“And you did bring the dog back,” she said.
“Yes, you should have seen the state of my car seats!” He grabbed another handful of his hair. “Well, enough of this. Can I offer you more to eat?”
“No, thanks. I’m stuffed,” she said.
“Let’s go into the living room, then.”
“Can’t I help with the dishes?”
“Absolutely not,” he said.
She didn’t argue. The undercooked grain was making her feel sort of logy; she envisioned dragging her stomach like a watermelon from table to sink.
He rose and came over behind her and slid her chair back. When she was standing, he took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Then he kissed her. This was not the light kiss they normally exchanged. It was more pressing and intense, more insistent, and she didn’t know why she felt no response. Mainly, she felt embarrassed. She drew away. She reached up to touch one of her barrettes. “Well!” she said. “Gracious!”
“Rebecca,” he said, still holding on to her shoulders.