Stella lined up the cards. Most were hidden. “Think about it,” she said. “Who was threatened the most? Those people on Shell Road. With all their money and their fine cars and their trips to Europe and their private beaches—think they wanted a Negro living next door?”

No, thought Macey Clare. Not these answers. I don’t want these answers.

7

“Austin,” said his grandfather. His voice was serious.

Austin stiffened. Grandfather was going to talk about Chicago or divorce or parents. Austin wasn’t ready. He kept moving the tack cloth over the hull of the little boat they were restoring, picking up invisible dust from sanding. Then he smiled at his grandfather. Whatever phone call Grandfather had had from Mom or Dad, whatever news he possessed that Austin didn’t, Austin would take calmly.

But there was no calm in him. He felt as weak as if his legs had been torn off and he had nothing to stand on. Don’t let them divorce, he thought. Don’t let them.

“I have a sense that you’re becoming friends with Macey Clare,” said his grandfather.

Austin folded the tack cloth and set it down. They weren’t going to talk about Chicago or divorce or parents. They were going to talk about girls. Probably Grandfather had lots of knowledge, but none Austin wanted to hear out loud. He picked up the can of varnish and reread the instructions.

Macey.

Over Macey he was spinning like a comet. Trajectory unknown.

On the beach, surrounded by stars and ocean, he had felt himself just as elemental: a tide of desire. When she called the other night, his heart might have been answering the phone. And then, instead of an ordinary suburban date of movie, popcorn and back row, they’d gone on that visit to Stella Miller.

He felt sick from it. He could not get the taste out of his mouth. He felt as if Macey were driving a new car toward a high cliff. He didn’t want to be in that car with her, but he didn’t want to be anywhere else, either.

“Perhaps, Austin, you could talk to Macey about this project she seems to have taken on,” said his grandfather.

Austin blinked. “Okay.”

“She’s talking to everybody about the fire that destroyed the old barn apartment,” said Grandfather. “It’s a sad story, Austin, and one we would all prefer not to have dredged up. I think you could help her find another outlet for her energy.”

Austin was astonished. His grandfather wanted him to corner Macey and tell her to stop researching the fire?

Those people on Shell Road. With all their money and their fine cars and their trips to Europe and their private beaches—think they wanted a Negro living next door?