The three drank tea and ate the hard, long, seeded crackers that were so popular in the town. Frances did not much like them, though. Once, she had asked her sister, Valencia, when they were sitting in their mother’s kitchen, “Can’t we eat something else for a change? I get so tired of these darned things.”

“Why can’t you be creative? Mash them up with corn and milk, or toast them! You’d be surprised what you can do,” Valencia asserted.

Frances had toasted the crackers, but they did not please her. “They’re dry,” she complained.

Valencia was unconcerned. It was true, she admitted, that a group of men in Munson had once formed a business board, and tried to start some sort of locally based food manufacture. The group met a few times enthusiastically, and even prepared a pamphlet to drum up local interest in the venture. Townsfolk grew excited too, and began to hope for a home industry that, in producing tasty foods, would also promote commerce and draw newcomers to Munson. But then, somehow, folks began to cool on the food manufacture idea, or else forgot about it. Over time, the men stopped going to the meetings, and the business group eventually withered away.

Now Frances glanced at the brothers, who ate their crackers with enjoyment, not noticing her. In the silence she drifted into the kitchen, bringing out further food, and a sauce. If only there were some guarantee, she thought worriedly, that if she left Munson—perhaps Florida altogether—she would not regret it! With rigid fingers she tapped her brow.

Frances left the table to peer quickly inside a book that she kept on the dining table. To its inside cover she had glued a small, inexpensive wristwatch, and this was the only clock in the room. Ray did not care to see clocks in general, since they made him feel rushed, so Frances had pondered until she came up with the idea for the book-clock. It was her own invention, one of which she was quietly proud. Though she had created other domestic inventions, such as a toilet silencer—using rope and soft rags—the book-clock, she felt, was her best.

“Six o’clock,” she announced. “You brothers head home! I need time tonight to be alone for mending and what-not.” She took a last swallow of tea and scraped her cup along its saucer, eyeing Kenny with a look neither complicitous nor cool.

“God, I understand that!” the fireman cried out, looking at his brother. “So often I need time alone.”

Ray bit into a cracker, staring ahead. “Hold it. Let’s stay here.” He swallowed, then poured more tea. “Did either of you notice the weather late today? Foggy, I thought.”

“Ray!” Kenny threw his napkin angrily. “Frances made a request! Didn’t you hear?”