“A Gap,” said Caddie. “Fantastic.”

Ben started to make another suggestion, thought better of it, and pushed his coffee away. It was too sweet to drink anyway. “We can worry about that later,” he said. He looked at his watch, feigning concern for the time. “I really should get to the lab.”

He stood up, and for the first time noticed the T-shirt Caddie was wearing. Something about it was familiar, but it took him a moment to realize what it was. “Johnny’s Pizza,” he said. “That’s the place a few blocks away. I’ve ordered from them.”

Caddie, still not looking at him, said, “That’s where I ate last night.”

“And you bought a shirt?” said Ben, puzzled. “Why would you want a T-shirt from a pizza place?”

Caddie looked at him. “It’s kitschy,” she said. “Retro. I like it.”

“It looks awfully big,” Ben remarked. “Didn’t they have your size?”

Caddie said nothing. Ben let the subject go. Probably it was just the latest style, like those ridiculous baggy pants so many of the boys in town wore, walking with their legs spread and their hands in their crotches just to keep them from falling down. And, really, what Caddie wore was the least of his problems as far as he was concerned.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, I guess I’m off.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and opened it. “I’m afraid there’s not much here to eat,” he said. “But there’s a Safeway. You must have seen it when you were walking. You can pick something up there.” He handed Caddie two twenties. When she didn’t take them, he let them fall to the table. “And tonight we will have dinner together,” Ben said.

He left her there, still sipping her black coffee, and went out the front door. As he got into his old Volvo, he had the simultaneously relieving and unsettling feeling that he was escaping. Or running away, he thought as he started the car. You could stay and talk to her. He put the car in gear and backed out before he could listen to his own advice.

Inside, Caddie listened to her father leave. She, too, was relieved. Simply making an appearance at breakfast had been a major concession on her part. No, not a concession, a necessity. Not being there for dinner the night before had been risky, riskier because she hadn’t returned to the house until after midnight. She’d half expected her father to be waiting up for her, ready for a fight. When she’d discovered the house dark and her father asleep in his room, she’d almost been disappointed.

But the incident with the T-shirt made up for it. That, she hoped, would give her father something to worry about all day. If, that was, he even understood the truth behind her vague replies. Her mother would have, would have known instantly that no girl with an ounce of self-respect would wear something so hideous, that the T-shirt was merely a symbol for something much bigger, for an act of rebellion that demanded confrontation.