"So?"
"So you have one lousy affair in your whole life. For a few lousy days. And you get a kid as evidence. Christ, what are the odds of that happening to anybody?"
"Oh," said Bob bitterly, "about a billion to one."
1 HE VEAL IS PERFECT, JeSSIE."
''Do you really think so, Mom?"
*'I think so too," said Bob, unasked. All during dinner he had been trying to read Sheila's face from across the table, but found it curiously indecipherable. They'd talk later, he reassured himself.
"What a nice surprise," Sheila added. ''Did you make the salad dressing too?"
"Well . . ." said Jessie. Then she realized that if she did not attribute authorship, her sister would. "Uh—actually Jean-Claude made it."
"Really?" Sheila said, trying to seem pleased. "It's very good, Jean-Claude."
"Thank you," he answered shyly.
"He used to do it for his mom, every day," Paula added. "He can cook a lot of other stuff too."
"Oh," said Sheila, "that's nice." She was doing her best, dammit, and Bob wasn't helping at all.
"Anyone care for more hlanquetteT' asked Jessica.
At first there seemed no takers. Everybody's appetite was satisfied. But there was so much left.
"Uk—I would like some," said Jean-Claude. Jes-
96
sie was delighted. Better to please one French palate than a dozen provincial know-nothings.
For dessert she had prepared Black Forest Cake a la Sara Lee. Provincial taste buds were suddenly reawakened.
"May we go watch television?" Paula asked her father.
"Can't you ever read a book?'' said Bob, annoyed.
"Books are too scary/' Paula protested.
"What are you talking about?" asked Bob.
"Jean-Claude has a schoolbook about strangling,*' Paula said, cringing in retrospect.
"What's this?" Bob asked the boy.
"I was reading the history of France. That is how Julius Caesar disposed of Vercingetorix the revolutionary."
"Ah," said Sheila. "That brings back memories of Mr. Hammond's Latin class. Do you enjoy history, Jean-Claude?"
"Not when it's sad. I was hoping Vercingetorix would win."
Bob smiled. "Why don't you go with the girls, Jean-Claude? It'll take your mind off strangling."
"Come on," said Paula, leaping from her chair.
The two girls scampered off. An instant later, the sound of sitcoms past was wafting in from the next room. But the French boy had not moved.
"Go on, Jean-Claude," said Bob. "It's a good way to practice your English."
"If you don't mind, Bob," he said politely, "I would prefer to read."
"Of course. More history?"
"Yes. I want to finish Julius Caesar." He got off his chair and started toward the stairway.
"You'll like what happens to him, Jean-Claude," Sheila called. "Brutus and Cassius get revenge for Vercingetorix."
**l know/' he answered with a smile. "There is a picture."
When he had left the room, Sheila said something that totally astonished Bob.
''He's very cute/'
They lingered over coffee in the dining room.
"How was Cambridge?" Bob inquired.
"Hot and tiring/' she answered. "The Square was swarming with summer-school kids.. . /' Their dialogue was strangely awkward.
"See anyone?" Bob asked.
"Yes/' she answered, and then, trying not to seem hostile, added, "Margo."
"How is she?" Bob asked, wondering if Sheila had confided in her friend as he had in his.
"The same."
"No new love?"
"Just the gallery. And I think she and Hal are not unhappy."
"That's hardly cause for cheering. Not being miserable isn't exactly my definition of an ideal marriage."
"Give Margo time. She's just learning.*'
"God knows she's had enough practice."
"Don't be snide."
"Sorry."
They finished their coffee in silence. Bob was now pretty sure she had told Margo. Then they began to talk again. Not really communicating, merely lobbing words over the net.
"Anything happen today?" Sheila asked.
"Nothing much. I jogged with Bernie. Oh, yeah— Louis Venargu^s called."
"Oh. Has he made any progress?"
"Not yet. He just wanted to see if the boy was okay. Tliey spoke for at least ten minutes."
"I think he's adjusted rather well, don't you?''
''Seems to have. Good kid/' he said tentatively, ''don't you think?"
"Yes," she said, "considering."
And then it suddenly occurred to Bob. We are talking like unhappily married people.
Even during vacation time, lights out was 10 p.m. for the Beckwith children. Jessie and Paula, all cooked out and viewed out, were more than willing to go to bed. After Sheila tucked them in, she joined Bob in their room.