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You better hop to it.”
    The man did not look like he was wanting to ramble anywhere that night.
    â€œYou want my advice?” she asked.
    â€œNot at all.”
    â€œGo back home. Talk to your mother. Tell her the truth. Explain your situation. Don’t leave anything out.”
    The son looked at her once then walked away, scurrying as if he was afraid she would follow. Winnie stood her ground, not quite finished with the advice she had to give.
    â€œThis summer the two of you should go to Three Rivers Stadium. Stand in line and buy season tickets to the Pirates. There’s been a baseball strike. People are suspicious of the stability of the ball clubs—you’ll be able to get bleacher seats. When the vendor comes around and says what’ll it be, she might want a few jumbo beers. I say let her have ’em.”
    He was at the end of the block. In a minute he would disappear from her sight. “Did you hear me?” Winnie shouted. “Jumbo beers. Hot dogs with onions and relish. Soft pretzels soaked in mustard. She’s a hungry woman. Let her go for it.”
    The coffee drinkers sitting at the outside cafe were staring at her. She turned away, lest they mistake her for a ranting, raving bag lady.
    She walked quickly to the Uni-Mart on Ellsworth Avenue. The sign on the door told her that this franchise strictly enforced the “Only TWO children at ONE time rule.” She shopped the three aisles quickly. She picked up some frozen microwavable burritos that were decent if you used a good sauce and a bit of canned black beans. To drink, she chose a bottle of raspberry-flavored sparkling water.
    When she handed him a twenty-dollar bill, the cashier asked her if she had anything smaller.
    â€œJust some change,” she said and shook her wallet so he could hear the jingle of pennies and nickels.
    He shrugged and held out his hands as if to say that there was nothing he could do to help her.
    To go home without her purchases would have been pathetic. She wrote her name on the receipt and handed it to the cashier, whose blue uniform jacket was unzipped to reveal a wrinkled white button-down.
    â€œHere you go,” she said, her voice sounding bossy. “I’ll come in tomorrow with something smaller. I live around the corner.”
    â€œI don’t think my boss will go for that.”
    â€œDon’t worry. You’ll get your money,” Winnie said. “You can count on me.”
    â€œI’m not sure,” the guy hesitated. Winnie scooped up her purchases and walked out of the store with a big friendly wave.
    That was it. She had nothing more to say to anybody. Her day was done.

Three Fat Women of (Pittsburgh Just Visiting) Antibes
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    O NE WAS CALLED J ANE AND WAS a divorcée. The second was born Margaret Mary but had her name legally changed to Amber when she turned twenty-one. Sally was the third. She had never been married, never been engaged, never even had what others would consider a longtime serious boyfriend. A virgin, yes, though she no longer admitted or complained about it.
    The women were in their late thirties and comfortably overweight, so when they talked about food (and who doesn’t when traveling, especially when traveling in France?) they spoke not in terms of enjoyment but in terms of negotiations, as if everything they ate or drank had a price.
    â€œWe must have walked five miles,” Jane said.
    â€œAt least,” Sally sighed, as if they had just finished exercising.
    â€œIf you count what we did on the boardwalk, add that to the museum tour, I figure it’s more like six,” Amber said. She recorded her daily activities in a compact datebook she carried in her purse. Most nights she exaggerated her exercise and lied about her caloric intake.
    â€œMaybe more,” Jane said.
    â€œBut at least five,” Amber said and snapped the rubber band around her little black book.
    The three were good friends. They