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object. She rose slowly from the bench, feigning weariness.
    “Okay, sweetie. I’ll be right there.”
    “Wait,” Theresa whispered. She had her purse open and was groping for something inside.
    “What?” said Sarah.
    Theresa held up her wallet, smirking like a schoolgirl.
    “Five bucks if you get his phone number.”
     
    The little boy observed Lucy with a certain amount of skepticism as she swung in near unison beside him. Then he turned to Sarah, his expression unexpectedly serious for someone wearing a floppy velour cap outfitted with real bells.
    “Her how old?” he inquired.
    “Lucy, honey?” Sarah coaxed. “Tell the nice boy how old you are.”
    Lucy shook her head, refusing as usual to do anything that might enable a social interaction to unfold smoothly, without awkwardness or unnecessary effort.
    “I three!” the little jester shouted, undeterred by Lucy’s silence. He jabbed the corresponding number of fingers into the air.
    “His birthday was in February,” the Prom King added, smiling pleasantly at Sarah. Up close his features were more distinctive than she had anticipated—the eyes set a bit too close together, two of his bottom teeth overlapping slightly—the imperfections adding a helpful touch of humanity to the package. “Still working on the potty training, though.”
    “Tell me about it.” Sarah chuckled. “Lucy turned three in April. Isn’t that right, honey?”
    Lucy would neither confirm nor deny this assertion. She just stared at the boy, her expression composed of equal parts amazement and horror.
    “She can be a bit shy,” Sarah explained.
    “Not Aaron,” said the Prom King. “He’s a real talker.”
    “My grandma lives in New Jersey!” the boy proclaimed, unable to contain this exciting fact a moment longer. But then his eyes narrowed and his mood turned somber. “She not have a swim pool.”
    “His grandmother in Florida has one,” the Prom King reported.
    “Do you like to swim?” Sarah asked the boy.
    “I don’t like sharks,” he said. “They eat you up.”
    “Don’t listen to him. He loves to swim. We go to the Town Pool almost every day.” The Prom King held out his hand. “I’m Todd, by the way.”
    “Sarah.”
    “I haven’t seen you here before.”
    “I’ve only been coming for a few weeks. I used to go to the playground with that old, creaky merry-go-round? The one by the ice-cream place?”
    Todd knew it well. He and Aaron liked to rotate playgrounds every few weeks for the sake of variety. Though, he had to say, some places were friendlier than others.
    “You’re the first person who’s ever talked to me here,” he said, glancing in the direction of the other mothers, who were staring back with undisguised curiosity, as if Sarah and Todd were images flickering on a movie screen.
    “I think you make them nervous,” she said. “They’re not used to running into good-looking men at the playground.”
    Oh my God , she thought. I can’t believe I’m flirting with him .
    Todd nodded thoughtfully at her analysis, neither blushing nor trying to deflect the compliment. When you were as handsome as he was, Sarah supposed, there wasn’t much point in pretending to be surprised when other people noticed.
    “I guess it is a little odd,” he admitted. “There aren’t as many stay-at-home fathers around here as I thought.”
    “What does your wife do?” Sarah asked.
    “She’s a filmmaker. She’s doing a documentary on World War Two veterans. You know, the Greatest Generation, all that stuff.”
    “ Saving Private Ryan ,” said Sarah.
    “Tom Brokaw,” agreed Todd.
    “Anyway, I think it’s great that you’re here. There’s no reason why men can’t be primary caregivers.”
    “I finished law school two years ago,” Todd volunteered, after only the briefest hesitation. “But I can’t seem to pass the bar exam. Failed it twice now.”
    “That’s a hard test.” She shook her head. “I remember all the trouble John F.