Laughing, he picked up his shoes and walked, slowly and with great happiness, back to his car.

CHAPTER 8

Ben didn’t notice the smoke rising from the pan until it was too late. The eggs were already burned. Still, he grabbed the handle, dropping it instantly as pain flared through his hand. The pan clattered to the floor, the eggs spilling over the linoleum and lying in the blackened butter like the casualties of a car crash. He looked down at the mess and nursed his hand.

“Better put that under cold water.”

Caddie entered the kitchen, glanced at the ruined eggs, and sat down at the table.

“I was trying to make eggs in a hat,” Ben explained as he turned on the tap and ran the water over his reddened skin. “You used to love those.”

“When I was four,” said Caddie. “Do you have any coffee?”

Ben nodded toward the pot sitting on the counter. Caddie, rising, shuffled over to it and poured herself a mugful. She took it back to the table and sipped it, black, not looking at her father.

Ben dried his hand and pulled several paper towels from the roll above the sink. As he bent to wipe up the remains of what should have been breakfast, he said, “What happened last night? I thought we were having dinner together.”

“So did I,” said Caddie shortly. “I waited until eight-fifteen. When you didn’t show, I figured you’d forgotten.”

Ben stood up, the wad of paper towels greasy and warm in his hand. “I didn’t forget,” he said.

Caddie looked at him, saying nothing. Her mother looks like that when she’s angry, Ben thought as he turned away from her and deposited the paper towels in the wastebasket under the sink. He washed his hands, smarting a little as the warm water touched his burned fingers. It wasn’t bad, though. Nothing a little aloe wouldn’t take care of.

“I didn’t forget,” he repeated. He faced Caddie again as he dried his hands. “I was working on something and lost track of time. You should have reminded me.”

Caddie nodded, looking into her coffee cup. “Maybe I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said.

Ben sighed. “You wouldn’t have disturbed me,” he said. The conversation was going badly already. On top of the ruined breakfast, it was making him tense. He decided now wasn’t the time to get into it with Caddie. “So, where did you go?”

“Out,” Caddie replied, typical of the teenager who doesn’t want to prolong a parent’s exasperation. “Into town,” she added, for which Ben was thankful. At least it was something.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Of what?” said Caddie.

“Of town,” Ben said patiently.

“Oh,” Caddie said. “It’s all right, I guess. It’s there.”

It’s there, Ben repeated to himself. That was all she was going to say? He felt the strain of forced conversation making him edgy. To distract himself, he opened the refrigerator and removed a carton of orange juice. When he poured the juice into a glass, it emerged in an unappealing mass of congealed pulp. He looked at the expiration date, which had passed weeks before.