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chided, indicating eight-year-old Eric. Eric was too busy stuffing his pockets with tidbits to feed his pet duck to pay any attention to our boring grown-up conversation. "I think it's very sweet of them to make Michael feel more at home."
      "And so convenient that they've convinced Michael and his mother to do curtains and slipcovers and such," Mrs. Brewster said. "They've had an awful time finding local help who meet their standards."
      "Yes," Mother said. "I'm not sure I'd have dared to go ahead with redecorating the living room without Michael's help. Not the deviled eggs, Eric."
      "But Duck likes deviled eggs!" Eric protested.
      "You may take a deviled egg to Duck, then," Mother conceded. "But don't put it in your pocket."
      Eric took this as permission to leave the table and trotted out to the backyard with the deviled egg.
      "Then you're going ahead with redecorating, too?" Mrs. Brewster said.
      "Yes, the living room, and possibly the dining room," Mother said. "Michael will be out tomorrow to take measurements."
      "The dining room, too?" Jake said, plaintively. No one seemed to hear him.
      "We're having the living room and the library done," Mrs. Brewster said. Mr. Brewster sighed gently. "I haven't decided about the dining room yet, although I suppose I should very soon. Perhaps I should have Michael take measurements tomorrow, too."
      "If he has time," Mother said. "He will be doing quite a lot of measuring here."
      "I'll call to make sure he has time," Mrs. Brewster said. "And no snide remarks when he comes young lady," she said, turning to Samantha.
      "Of course; not a word," Samantha said. "What kind of an idiot do you think I am? I mean, you know how vindictive and temperamental they can be; I'm not about to do anything to make him mess up my gown."
      Mother kicked me before I could open my mouth. My shins would be black and blue by morning.
      What a narrow-minded, prejudiced--no, don't say the word, I told myself. The whole conversation left a bad taste in my mouth. I felt guilty about not having stepped in to defend Michael. On the other hand, if Mother hadn't shushed me, I'd probably have lost my temper and said something that I'd need to apologize for. I had a bad feeling that Samantha and I would end up having a knock-down-drag-out argument about narrow-mindedness before the end of the summer; I'd just try to avoid doing it in front of Mother. Or Rob. I had no idea what he saw in Samantha, but he was madly in love with her, so I'd have to learn to live with her.
      In the meantime I vowed to be extremely friendly and hospitable to Michael. To make up for the various indignities and embarrassments he had probably already suffered at the hands of my small-minded relatives and neighbors.

              Saturday, May 28

      Of course, being friendly and hospitable to Michael was going to get a lot easier once I mastered the tendency to drool every time I saw him. I stumbled downstairs at ten Saturday morning to find him sitting in our kitchen. Mother was serving him coffee and pastries and explaining her redecorating plans.
      I found myself wishing I'd combed my hair better before shoving it back into a clip. Or put on something other than my oldest jeans. Don't be silly, I told myself crossly, and responded to Michael's heart-stopping smile with as friendly a nod as I could manage before noon. I joined them and listened to Mother chatter about chintz for a while as I sipped my coffee and waited for it to take effect.
      "Meg!" Mother said sharply. I started, spilling some of my coffee. Apparently I'd nodded off while sitting upright.
      "Sorry, not quite awake yet," I mumbled, mopping at myself with a napkin. Good thing I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
      "I know how you feel," Michael said. "During the year I won't let them schedule any of my classes before eleven. I'm still not used to the way people down here get up at the crack of dawn."
      "Ten o'clock is hardly