But he didn’t seem to notice her, the apron, or the table setting. They were eating late again—Monday through Saturday, he rarely was home before seven. And, unlike many other husbands that Dolly knew of, he never even came home for lunch; he was afraid he might miss a sale if he left the Chryslers to themselves over the lunch hour. Dolly’s suggestion that he and Roy take turns going home for lunch so the lot would always be manned had been met with “I don’t think so, Doll.” He had promised his schedule would ease up once the dealership was more established, but Dolly wasn’t holding her breath. Well, less work for her, she supposed, since packing a lunch was much easier than having to cook a hot meal and then clean up after it. It was nice, actually, that she could get through her own work without interruption. Or so she told herself.

“I thought I had a sale made this afternoon,” he was saying, between bites. “I kept telling the guy, all these new features, at this price! Well, maybe he’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Dolly said, stirring figure eights in her casserole.

“Aren’t you hungry, Doll? You’d better eat before it gets cold.”

She took a bite. She did like this casserole; she had made it four times before, according to her calendars. They chewed together in silence.

She didn’t think it reasonable that this was all their life would be forever.

“Byron?” she said. “You know that house up on the hill that I like? Up at the edge of town?”

“Sure.”

“I found out today that it’s empty. Has Roy said anything to you about it? Do you think it might be for sale? Maybe you could get a good price on it. I could fix it up.”

He squinted. “Don’t you like this house? I picked it out because I thought you’d like it.”

“I do, Byron,” she said, looking at the swirls of casserole on her plate.

“Besides, I can’t see the sense in moving when we’re just getting settled here.”

“But, Byron, that poor house is suffering. If we don’t take care of it, who will?”

“I don’t think so, Doll,” Byron said, and turned his attention to his peach salad.

Dolly couldn’t sleep that night. Byron’s quiet breathing grated on her nerves. She flopped over and propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. Goodness, he had big ears. A cute mouth, though, and dreamy long eyelashes. But what in the world was it about him that she had been so convinced she couldn’t live without?