Jacky changed the subject. “The chef where I work has a lovely daughter.”

“Is that so?”

“Cindy Bell.”

“What is Cindy short for, Cinderella?”

“Lucinda. She graduated this year from Georgetown University.”

Georgetown was a neighborhood of Washington, but few of the city’s black majority attended its prestigious university. “She white?”

“No.”

“Must be bright, then.”

“Very.”

“Catholic?” Georgetown University was a Jesuit foundation.

“Nothing wrong with Catholics,” Jacky said with a touch of defiance. Jacky attended Bethel Evangelical Church, but she was broad-minded. “Catholics believe in the Lord, too.”

“Catholics don’t believe in birth control, though.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“What? You’re not serious.”

“If I’d used birth control, I wouldn’t have you.”

“But you don’t want to deny other women the right to a choice.”

“Oh, don’t be so argumentative. I don’t want to ban birth control.” She smiled fondly. “I’m just glad I was ignorant and reckless when I was sixteen.” She stood up. “I’ll put some coffee on.” The doorbell rang. “Would you see who that is?”

George opened the front door to an attractive black girl in her early twenties, wearing tight Capri pants and a loose sweater. She was surprised to see him. “Oh!” she said. “I’m sorry, I thought this was Mrs. Jakes’s house.”

“It is,” said George. “I’m visiting.”

“My father asked me to drop this off as I was passing.” She handed him a book called Ship of Fools. He had heard the title before: it was a bestseller. “I guess Dad borrowed it from Mrs. Jakes.”

“Thank you,” George said, taking the book. Politely he added: “Won’t you come in?”

She hesitated.

Jacky came to the kitchen door. From there she could see who was outside: it was not a large house. “Hello, Cindy,” she said. “I was just talking about you. Come in, I’ve made fresh coffee.”

“It sure smells good,” said Cindy, and she crossed the threshold.

George said: “Can we have coffee in the living room, Mom? It’s almost time for the president.”

“You don’t want to watch TV, do you? Sit and talk to Cindy.”

George opened the living room door. He said to Cindy: “Would you mind if we watched the president? He’s going to say something important.”

“How do you know?”

“I helped write his speech.”

“Then I have to watch,” she said.

They went in. George’s grandfather, Lev Peshkov, had bought and furnished this house for Jacky and George in 1949. After that Jacky proudly refused to take anything more from Lev except George’s school and college costs. On her modest salary she could not afford to redecorate, so the living room had changed little in thirteen years. George liked it this way: fringed upholstery, an oriental rug, a china cabinet. It was old-fashioned, but homey.

The main innovation was the RCA Victor television set. George turned it on, and they waited for the green screen to warm up.

Cindy said: “Your mom works at the University Women’s Club with my dad, doesn’t she?”