“Terrible. I got enough germs to wipe out this entire town.”

Echo started toward him, but he withdrew like a leper. “No, no, no! Unclean, unclean! Oh, Christ, woman, don’t come near me!” But she went over and kissed the top of his bald head.

“That’s better,” he said.

She gave Clinton a kiss on the cheek. “How’s m’guy?” she said. Then she started to pace the floor, rattling her car keys.

“I’m okay,” Clinton said. “Only I was afraid you weren’t comin.’ What happened?”

“Well, baby, two weeks is about all I can go without a look at you. I mean it, too, that’s the awful truth.”

Clinton watched her as she wandered aimlessly about the room. He liked to watch her move. Her clothes were always cut in a way that made them move with her body, in the same rhythm.

“Besides,” she said, “Mamma wanted me to come. Makes her feel bad if I stay home just for her account. Where’s Berry-berry?”

“He didn’t get here yet,” Clinton said.

Echo leaned on the windowsill and looked at the sky. “It started out like a real pretty day. Didn’t it? I can’t tell what it’s gonna do next, though. Oh, but I had such a scrumptious drive comin’ down. Made it in just under two hours. I mean, sweetheart, I moved! I’m not claimin’ I set a record, but who’d believe that old girl had so much speed left in her.” She walked over to the bedroom door. “I got something to tell Annabel.” She called down the stairs. “Annabel! I know you’re in that kitchen. And I know what you’re doin’ in there, too!”

Annabel’s voice came from the downstairs hallway.

“Well, aren’t you just starved?”

“Now, see? That’s what I mean. And if you fix me anything, I’m goin’ to slap your fingers. I got something to tell you.”

“But I know you’re starved!” Annabel said.

“I’m not really, darlin’. I’m truly not. Can I help with Ralph’s tray?”

“Absolutely not. Just keep him busy up there.” Annabel’s voice receded as she returned to the kitchen.

In the bedroom, Ralph studied the checkerboard. “I don’t know how I got into this hole,” he said. “I think my mind is deteriorated. I think I’m senile is my trouble.”

Clinton watched Echo in her aimless progress about the room. She sat at Annabel’s dressing table, her keys silent for a moment, and she said: “Now, let’s see. I had three things to tell, for cryin’ out loud, and I can’t remember a one of them.”

Now, unaware that Clinton was watching her every move, Echo suddenly focused on her own image in the mirror. Some aspect of what she found there caused her to tremble; for a brief instant her eyes closed and her body seemed to buckle from within. Clinton felt that what she had experienced in that moment was not physical pain—but a flash of terror. It had been so brief he could not even be certain that it had taken place at all. But he had lost all interest in the game, and watched her more closely than ever.