“Good God, you folks work fast, don’t you? I’ve never seen people make up their minds like that. Sure, I guess so. I’ll call the lawyer tonight and see, and then I’ll let you know.”

Stephen would soon be home, and I didn’t want Mr. Chapman calling back. “I’m afraid we’ll be out this evening. How about you find out tonight and set a time for tomorrow afternoon when we can get together. I’ll call you in the morning and find out what you’ve arranged. Any time after noon is fine with me. I have a car so you can pick any place you want. I’ll have the money for you by then, all of it. I’ll give you a call about nine tomorrow.”

And that was all it took. Stephen walked in a few minutes later and found Katie and Elliott and me in the kitchen. They were arguing about what to put in the salad I’d set them to making. Katie wanted cheese, Elliott said cheese was a dumb thing to put in a salad. They turned to Stephen for arbitration, and he voted with Katie. I watched him.

I saw him, tall, strong-featured, with traces now of graying hair, discussing the salad issue with mock seriousness, a forefinger on his chin. The children loved him for taking them seriously. “They make a nice family,” I thought. I didn’t see myself in it, not any more, and I wondered if I ever had, when I had watched them before. Maybe I’d always been standing off to one side, admiring the complete family that didn’t include me.

But no, that wasn’t true; once I had been among them, in my way, and that had changed.

Katie and Elliott went outside; Fletcher needed exercising, and I could hear them arguing over whose turn it was to run with him today. Stephen leaned out the door and suggested they both take him, leave him off the leash for once and just let him go, only stay close to him; with both of them, he said, it should be all right. His talent for keeping them happy amazed me.

The two of us were left alone together in the kitchen. He sat down at the table, watching me peel the potatoes; it made me nervous, being watched.

“How was your day,” I asked, to divert him. “Anything interesting?”

“Not really, it was fairly good, normal, I guess.” I looked at him; I wondered if he ever got tired, or felt that maybe he belonged somewhere else. He must, I thought. Or maybe not; maybe he was the way I had been once. Maybe he didn’t know the difference. It wasn’t fair, when he tried so hard, but still there was no regret.