He smiled and kissed her mouth with a loud smack. I could tell the kiss was a ritual between them and for the moment I couldn’t help feeling cheated.

Regina refused to come out of her room to eat, so dinner turned out to be quite pleasant. Maybe because I was so disappointed in Regina—and myself—and because I admired the tenderness between Gloria and Brian, I set out to win the boy’s attention. When I served the pudding, I gave him a side dish of whipped cream shaped like a snowman, with raisin eyes, lemon-peel mouth and a maraschino cherry cap. Once again, he showed that uncanny adult expression as he adjusted the cherry cap to his liking.

“I can see it coming,” sighed Gloria as we watched him. “He’s going to be a nit-picker like his father.”

We had our coffee in the living room. Brian sat on my lap, running his fingers through my hair and murmuring, “Fire.” Gloria watched us with the same contentment she once had when she used to listen to Pat and me kidding each other.

“Don’t you think we should take something up to Regina?” she said.

“I told her if she wants to eat she can come downstairs.”

“Why don’t you let me take it up, as a kind of peace offering. After all, we’ve invaded her territory.”

“All right, if you want to.”

She prepared a tray with the ham and the potato salad and made a whipped cream snowman as I had done for Brian. She went upstairs, knocked and called Regina’s name. There was a long silence before she came back down.

“She wouldn’t answer me. I left the tray on the nightstand.”

“Then let her stew.” She sat down with a look of amusement. “I know. You think I’m being too hard.”

She shrugged. “Not at all. I know your expectations, Irene.”

“And you think they’re too high?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Do you really doubt yourself that much?”

“Sometimes. Especially when it comes from all sides. Frank and I see eye to eye on all the important things except Regina. I think he’s too indulgent, he thinks I’m too hard. The same thing at school. The trend now is less homework and practically no writing. Complete sentences are out of fashion, spelling is unimportant, knowing the parts of speech is considered passé. And when it comes to literature, everyone seems to be on this kick of reading what’s supposed to be relevant—the implication being that anything written before 1950 is irrelevant. I’m not very popular with the other people in the English Department. If it weren’t for the principal’s support, I’d feel like a total dinosaur.”

“It’s no better in college. You should see the papers I had to read. But let’s not talk shop.”

We put Brian to bed in the same room where Gloria would sleep. We only had to promise to leave the door open and the hall light on.

“Do you want one of Regina’s dolls or bears to sleep with?” I asked him.