“In spite of everything. We just didn’t talk about that part of her life.” Betsy crumpled the napkin in her hand and looked out of the window. “Except once. When Ethan was killed, she asked me to take care of the children if anything happened to her. Which meant that she wasn’t going to give up the handling. And, Lord knows, after what happened to Ethan, it was obvious to her how dangerous it was.”

It hadn’t been a dangerous rattlesnake that had killed Susan, but I didn’t say anything.

“And of course I said yes. I love those children better than anything in the world. Terry does, too.”

“Do you have children of your own?”

“We do now.” A weak smile and a swipe of the napkin under her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I’m embarrassing you. Do you want to go sit at the tables outside?”

“You’re not embarrassing me. Don’t worry about that.”

Betsy sighed. “I know you can’t understand, I don’t understand myself, but Susan was such a sensible person in so many ways. Such a loving person.”

No, I didn’t, couldn’t understand such need, such religious fervor. What would it be like to want to touch God? To hold up a snake? I shivered.

They called our number and Betsy said, “I’ll get it.”

I watched her get the tray and collect napkins and plastic spoons from a side counter. She looked like a child, I realized, with the long plait almost to the waist of her jeans. She had draped her denim jacket across the back of her chair, and her simple yellow shirt emphasized how small she was.

“Here we go.” Betsy placed the bowl of soup in front of me and handed me a spoon and napkin. “I think you’ll like this. It’s so hot, you might want to put some ice in it.”

We both scooped some ice from our tea with the plastic spoons and dropped it into our soup. It melted immediately.

“Do you work, Betsy?” I asked.

She nodded. “At the telephone company. I called yesterday and I think I can take maternity leave. They allow for special circumstances.”

She passed a basket of crackers to me.

“They’re going to be surprised when they get a request from me for maternity leave.”

I took a package of crackers and looked at her questioningly.

“Terry and I have been married eight years. We’ve tried it all, even in vitro a couple of times. We’ve given up.”

“Will you adopt Susan’s children?”

“Of course. It’s what she would have wanted.”

I was doing some mental calculations while I was opening the crackers.

“Susan married before you did, didn’t she? She waited a while to have children.”

Betsy nodded. “Midtwenties. That’s what I meant about her being sensible in so many ways.”