their plates were clean, Mary began slicing a piece of pie. "I'll just cut you a small one."
"I can't, Momma, honest. It looks delicious, but I just can't."
"Oh, nonsense." Mary pulled Tess's plate over. "I made it just for you. What's one little piece of pie going to hurt? If you ask me, you look like a scarecrow. You could use a little meat on your bones."
"Please, Momma, no. I can't."
Mary slapped a wedge on Tess's plate anyway. "Just don't put any whipped cream on it, that way it won't be so fattening."
Tess was eating a single obligatory bite of pie when someone tapped on the back door and opened it without waiting for an answer.
"Mary?" he said and stepped inside, into the tiny back entry, no longer wearing a business suit but a red wind-breaker, no longer carrying a briefcase but hefting a forty-pound sack of pellet salt on his left shoulder.
"Oh, Kenny, it's you," Mary said, going joyful in an instant.
"I brought your softener salt," he said, turning slowly beneath his burden and opening the basement door. "I'll take it right down."
"Oh, thanks a million, Kenny. Tess, get that light for him, would you, honey?"
"I got it!" he called as the basement light switched on. His footsteps thumped down, there was a pause while he slit open the bag, then the salt rattled into the plastic softener vat, and he came back up. Fast, as if jogging. "Got one more. Be right back."
When the door slammed Tess whispered, "He comes right into your house without knocking?"
"Oh, Tess, this is Wintergreen, not Nashville."
He was back in a minute with the second sack, carried it downstairs and emptied it into the water softener before returning to the main level. When he closed the basement door and climbed the single step into the kitchen, Tess stuck a second bite of pie into her mouth and fixed her eyes on her plate, as if he'd heard all the nasty things she'd said about him only minutes ago. She needn't have worried, for he gave her not so much as a glance. He shuffled to a stop beside Mary's chair, looking directly down on her, brushing off his hands and making his windbreaker whistle. "There. All filled. Anything else you need while I'm here?"
"I don't think so. That'll hold me for a while. Kenny, you remember Tess, don't you?"
He gave Tess a negligible nod that dismissed her as if she were still back in Nashville. It was brusque enough to be rude, and accompanied by not so much as a single word of greeting. She wasn't sure if he still had pimples or not because she couldn't find the wherewithal to raise her eyes.
While she went on eating her pie, Mary said, "How much do I owe you, Kenny?"
He fished a receipt out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "Seven-eighty."
Mary said to Tess, "Honey, could you get my purse? It's hanging on the closet doorknob in my bedroom."
Tess went gratefully. In her wake she heard Mary telling him what time Tess had arrived, and him changing the subject, asking her if everything was set for tomorrow morning. When Tess got back with the purse, he stepped out of her way and said nothing. Mary dug out the money and handed it to him while Tess resumed her chair.
"There you are. Seven dollars…" After the bills she counted out some coins into his palm. "And eighty cents."
"Thanks," he said, dropping the change into a tight side pocket of his blue jeans and reaching toward a rear pocket for his billfold. He had turned his shoulder on Tess again, and a quick glance gave her a view of his trim backside as the billfold slipped out of sight. "So everything's all set for tomorrow?" he asked Mary. "Blood work turned out fine? And you've got that walker all polished up?"
"Yes, sir, I'm all set."
"Scared?" he inquired with an easy casualness.
"Not much. Been through it before, so I know what to expect."
"So you don't need anything?"
"No. Tess is taking me to the hospital in the morning at six o'clock. That is, if I can get in that little car of hers. I don't know what it's called but it cost
"I can't, Momma, honest. It looks delicious, but I just can't."
"Oh, nonsense." Mary pulled Tess's plate over. "I made it just for you. What's one little piece of pie going to hurt? If you ask me, you look like a scarecrow. You could use a little meat on your bones."
"Please, Momma, no. I can't."
Mary slapped a wedge on Tess's plate anyway. "Just don't put any whipped cream on it, that way it won't be so fattening."
Tess was eating a single obligatory bite of pie when someone tapped on the back door and opened it without waiting for an answer.
"Mary?" he said and stepped inside, into the tiny back entry, no longer wearing a business suit but a red wind-breaker, no longer carrying a briefcase but hefting a forty-pound sack of pellet salt on his left shoulder.
"Oh, Kenny, it's you," Mary said, going joyful in an instant.
"I brought your softener salt," he said, turning slowly beneath his burden and opening the basement door. "I'll take it right down."
"Oh, thanks a million, Kenny. Tess, get that light for him, would you, honey?"
"I got it!" he called as the basement light switched on. His footsteps thumped down, there was a pause while he slit open the bag, then the salt rattled into the plastic softener vat, and he came back up. Fast, as if jogging. "Got one more. Be right back."
When the door slammed Tess whispered, "He comes right into your house without knocking?"
"Oh, Tess, this is Wintergreen, not Nashville."
He was back in a minute with the second sack, carried it downstairs and emptied it into the water softener before returning to the main level. When he closed the basement door and climbed the single step into the kitchen, Tess stuck a second bite of pie into her mouth and fixed her eyes on her plate, as if he'd heard all the nasty things she'd said about him only minutes ago. She needn't have worried, for he gave her not so much as a glance. He shuffled to a stop beside Mary's chair, looking directly down on her, brushing off his hands and making his windbreaker whistle. "There. All filled. Anything else you need while I'm here?"
"I don't think so. That'll hold me for a while. Kenny, you remember Tess, don't you?"
He gave Tess a negligible nod that dismissed her as if she were still back in Nashville. It was brusque enough to be rude, and accompanied by not so much as a single word of greeting. She wasn't sure if he still had pimples or not because she couldn't find the wherewithal to raise her eyes.
While she went on eating her pie, Mary said, "How much do I owe you, Kenny?"
He fished a receipt out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "Seven-eighty."
Mary said to Tess, "Honey, could you get my purse? It's hanging on the closet doorknob in my bedroom."
Tess went gratefully. In her wake she heard Mary telling him what time Tess had arrived, and him changing the subject, asking her if everything was set for tomorrow morning. When Tess got back with the purse, he stepped out of her way and said nothing. Mary dug out the money and handed it to him while Tess resumed her chair.
"There you are. Seven dollars…" After the bills she counted out some coins into his palm. "And eighty cents."
"Thanks," he said, dropping the change into a tight side pocket of his blue jeans and reaching toward a rear pocket for his billfold. He had turned his shoulder on Tess again, and a quick glance gave her a view of his trim backside as the billfold slipped out of sight. "So everything's all set for tomorrow?" he asked Mary. "Blood work turned out fine? And you've got that walker all polished up?"
"Yes, sir, I'm all set."
"Scared?" he inquired with an easy casualness.
"Not much. Been through it before, so I know what to expect."
"So you don't need anything?"
"No. Tess is taking me to the hospital in the morning at six o'clock. That is, if I can get in that little car of hers. I don't know what it's called but it cost
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