“The closet is over here,” Ben said, turning the handle on the only other door in the room, as if perhaps she would never have discovered it on her own.

“There’s no TV,” Caddie realized, speaking the thought aloud. She tried to remember if she’d seen one in the living room but was sure she hadn’t. A kind of panic gripped her.

Ben stood, his hand on the doorknob, looking at her as if she’d asked where she could stable her unicorn. Finally he scratched his nose. “Um, no,” he said. “I don’t really watch television.”

Caddie sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the springs groan plaintively beneath her. “No air-conditioning,” she said. “No television. Do I have to get water from the well?”

“The bathroom is down the hall,” said Ben.

“The bathroom,” Caddie repeated. “There’s just one?”

“Do you need more than one?” asked Ben.

“Apparently not,” said Caddie. She closed her eyes. The Valium wasn’t doing the job; she would have to take another one. Why hadn’t her mother just sent her to prison? At least there they had television.

Ben had walked over to the bed and was standing at the foot. His hands were in his pockets. “Look,” he said. “I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too.”

Caddie looked at him. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s good to be wanted.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Ben. “I mean, I’m not used to living with someone else, especially a child.”

“I’m not a child,” Caddie said sharply. “I know you haven’t been around much for, oh, nine or ten years, but just to let you know, I’ve grown up since you walked out.”

Ben nodded. “I see that,” he said quietly.

Caddie unzipped her backpack and riffled through it, pretending to look for something. She hoped her father would take the hint and leave her alone. He didn’t.

“Your mother thinks ...” he began, then stopped for a moment. “Your mother and I think it will be good for the two of us to spend the summer together.”

Caddie, still rummaging furiously, said, “My mother thinks I’m out of control, and she’s making you take me for the summer because she doesn’t know what else to do.” She stopped pawing in her backpack and looked at him. “I’m not stupid,” she said shortly.

“I never ...” Ben retorted. He watched her face, her dark, flashing eyes. “No,” he said. “You’re not.”

Caddie pushed a strand of her long, curly hair behind one ear. Her mother was right, her father had gained weight. And his hair was grayer than she remembered. He didn’t look old, exactly, just kind of more worn out. Like his house.

“Do you want something to eat?” Ben asked her.

She shook her head. He nodded. “I guess I’ll just leave you to get settled, then,” he said. He walked to the door, then turned. “We’ll have dinner together,” he said. “How about eight?”

“Whatever,” said Caddie, shrugging.