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anything, you know.” Rillma exuded excitement.
    “I’ll bear that in mind.”
    “Well, I’ve got to race back and pack up.”
    “When do you leave?”
    “Monday.”
    “Ah, then you do have a lot to do.”
    Impulsively, Rillma kissed Celeste on the cheek, then dashed out again as breathlessly as she had arrived.
    As she watched the beautiful girl reach the open doors, her youthful figure surrounded by a burst of light, Celeste felt a catch at her heart and wondered if she’d made a dreadful mistake.

8

    C hester Smith was foot-weary from the dance of politeness. Walter Falkenroth, Chessy’s biggest customer while his new house was being built, was not an unkind man, but when he said “Jump” he expected Chessy to reply “How high?” If Chessy hoped to find some peace in his mother’s kitchen, though, he was doomed to disappointment.
    Chessy’s mother and his wife cordially detested each other and had done so since he and Juts began dating. Their wedding day saw all their friends at the service but not Mother Smith, who feigned illness. Keeping both women happy, or at least away from each other’s throats, took elegant sidestepping.
    Mother Smith, built like a credenza, scrubbed her sink as she lambasted him.
    “—by the nose.”
    “Now, Mother.”
    “She does, she leads you around by the nose. The rest of the family will be here and you should be here, too.”
    “We go through this every year.” He sat on the floor, his legs straight out as he leaned back to fix a hinge on a low cabinet door to the right of the sink.
    “Your place is with me. Not with those Hunsenmeirs. They’re not our kind of people. She can go to her people, you can come home.” When her son did not reply she continued. “Youmarried beneath you, Chester.” She sighed an artful sigh. “Those things happen, but you don’t need to keep company with them. You belong here on Easter Sunday with your brothers. Oh, Uncle Will is coming up from Richmond and Uncle Lou is taking the train in from Harrisburg.”
    With a grunt, Chessy tightened a screw, the powerful muscles on his forearm also tightening with each turn. “Mother, Christmas dinner here, Easter dinner there. Let’s not fuss.”
    “I’m not fussing. I’m trying to get you to see the light.” She turned off the water after wringing out her dishrag. “In order to rise in this world, one must mix with the right people.”
    “I’m doing okay.”
    “You could do better.”
    “I like what I do.”
    “You’re the eldest, Chester. You should set an example. Joseph received another promotion.” She paused and before she could say “at Bulova Watch,” where Joseph worked, her son quietly interrupted.
    “I’m not as smart as Joseph and I’m not as ambitious as Sanford.” Chester carefully did not use his brothers’ nicknames in front of his mother, who thought them common. “I get along.”
    Rupert Smith, a big, broad-chested man like Chester, opened the back door. “Hello, Son.”
    “Hi, Dad.”
    “Chester, don’t use slang in my presence.”
    Rupert placed the folded newspaper he carried under his arm on the table as though it were fine china. “I’m ready for a cold beer. Will you join me?”
    “Sure.”
    “If you two are going to drink spirits, then you go out on the back porch. I don’t want anyone coming in the house and—”
    “Jo, we’re going to drink our beer right here in the kitchen.”
    She slapped down a wooden spoon. “Then you can fetch it yourself.”
    Rupert crossed over to the tiny wooden icebox with the ice compartment on the top and pulled out a long-necked brown bottle of good Pennsylvania beer. He handed one to Chester, then opened his own beer and the paper. Rupert’s idea of visiting was to read the headlines out loud.
    “Says here a man was arrested in Hagerstown for posing as a financier from New York City.”
    “Rupert,” Jo cut in, “tell your son to come to Easter dinner.”
    “I expect he knows that,